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changbunnies · 2 months

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Lowkey, I Need You (To Move Out) 18+

♡ Pairing: Changbin x Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: friends with benefits, friends to lovers, roommates to lovers, angst, fluff, smut with plot, mutual pining but especially lots of pining from binnie

♡ Word Count: 12k

♡ Summary: Changbin has a problem– he’s in love with his friend with benefits. And not only is he in love with her, but she’s also his roommate. Torn on what to do, the only thing he knows for certain is that something has to change soon– but is he even brave enough to spark that change, and risk their friendship?

♡ Warnings: miscommunication, but it's resolved quickly!, bin is lil insecure but we're here to make it better !!, gets a bit emotional because truly this is a love letter to changbin and how much i adore him

♡ Smut Warnings: multiple smut scenes, switch!bin with a heavy sub lean, as usual changbin is an extremely soft and perfect lover, pet names (baby, bun, bunny, honey, sweet + good boy), oral (m + f rec), fingering (f rec), nipple play, begging, a tiny bit of edging, spit as lube, cock warming, unprotected piv, creampie, praise kink, body worship, face sitting

♡ Notes: this was written in response to the topic of binnie being excluded, because as a bin biased girlie it's my job to show out for him when he needs the extra love! i've been wanting to write a fwb for SO long and in true changbunnies fashion this turned out longer than i intended it to be but i just had so much fun writing it and giving binnie the attention he deserves, so i hope you enjoy it too !!

♡ 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.

What do you do when you realize you've fallen in love with your friend with benefits? And what do you do when said friend is also your roommate? The conclusion that Changbin has reached is simple: spiral.

Well, not that spiraling is an actual choice in this scenario– he can't stop it from happening despite how desperately he wants to. He knows you aren't looking for a relationship right now, that you like what you have together because it's casual and fun.

You swore off dating apps and relationships after having your heart broken one too many times, and the only reason you're friends with benefits with Changbin is because you trust him– a trust that he is loath to break by dropping the revelation that he's fallen in love with you.

You were away from your shared apartment for the past week and a half, on a trip back to your home town to visit family. It was exhausting, but fun enough when your parents weren't driving you up the wall by pestering you with questions about when you're going to start bringing a boyfriend back home with you, you told Changbin on the phone last night whilst packing to come back to the city.

He hated the way his heart sank to the pit of his stomach when he considered the fact that he'll never be the boyfriend going home with you to meet your family. And he wants to be, fucking hell, does he want to be yours.

He wants to tell you he loves you and have it mean something more than the platonic love between friends, to take you on dates and freely hold your hand when walking through the city streets together, to share a bed with you for more than just a fuck.

How many times has he wanted to pull you back to him when you start to get up from his bed? To reach out and beg you to stay when you start to get dressed? To knock on your door late at night and lay everything out on the line because the way it keeps him up at night is becoming unbearable?

Fuck, he can't keep dwelling on it– you've been on your way home since this morning, and you're due back any minute now. It'll be disastrous for Changbin if you walk through the door and realize something's off with him.

His heart twisted when he checked his phone and saw a new text, one excitedly telling him you're almost home and that you've missed him– but was it really him you missed, or just fucking him? He didn't know anymore, and he was afraid to find out.

Changbin jumps when he hears the lock to the front door click, taking a breath to calm his racing heart as he rises to his feet to help you with your luggage and welcome you back home.

He’s spent enough time spiraling over what to do this past week, he can’t afford to anymore; not if he wants to keep his sanity intact, anyways. He can do this– once you get settled, he can have a heart to heart with you, and everything will be fine. Even if it’s too much to confess his feelings, surely there’s a way to go about things where you’re both still happy, right?

Changbin did a lot around the apartment to make it perfect for you upon your return– cleaned and dusted every common room until they were spotless, made sure not a single dirty dish was left in the sink, emptied every trash can.. He even unclogged the drains and scrubbed the tub! He just wanted to make sure you didn’t have a single thing to do, that you could just relax and unwind in clean comfort after your trip.

But you don’t spare a single glance around the apartment once you enter– you look just at him, smiling as you kick the door closed behind you, and drop your luggage to the floor to squeeze him into a hug.

He blinks a moment in surprise at how quick the action is– he didn’t even have the chance to get a word out before you were on him. Still, he quickly returns the hug while trying his best to prevent the happy, almost relieved sigh you let out as you bury your head into his chest from giving him false hope.

“You really missed me this much?” Changbin asks with a small giggle– why is he even asking? So much for not giving himself false hope. He just blurted it out without thinking, really; but he can’t pretend the way you affirm it doesn’t make his heart swell.

It was the longest you’d ever been apart from Changbin since moving in together, and it put a lot of things into perspective. Like, you really did miss him, of course you did, he’s your friend! But there was something more– you don’t think you’d ever missed someone so fucking badly before.

Like, staying up all night because you can’t stop thinking about him type of ‘I miss you.’ Wanting to text him or call him at all hours of the day just to check up on him and ask what he’s been up to even though you’re supposed to be focusing on your family and reuniting with childhood friends.

You missed everything about him– his smile and cute laugh, the way he smells, his big arms wrapped around you and squeezing you close. You wanted to hear his voice again, and not through the grainy speaker of your phone, wanted to see him without your parent’s shitty old wifi connection lagging your call, and making him pixelated and blurry.

Changbin is your home, you realized; wherever he is is where you want to be. As long as he’s there, you’d have everything you need to be happy. Is that too sentimental of a feeling for just friends?

Yes, you know it is– and every time you felt it for him before, you shoved it down as deep you could, not ready to get your heart broken again just yet. Better to hold onto him for as long as you can, before he cuts things off to start dating again.

But of course, you can’t deny you also missed him in other, less than innocent ways. The squeak he lets out when you surprise him with a kiss, the cute way he blushes and giggles when you compliment him or call him his favorite pet name, the way he’ll easily drop to his knees for you the moment you tell him you need him.

He never cares what he’s in the middle of or what he needs to get done– if you tell him you want him, he’s ready for you, eager to please. Even if he loses sleep, if it makes him late for work, if it means the food on the stove is going to burn– none of it matters if you need his tongue on you. And you’ll reward him, you always do; with sweet words and touches that makes his heart feel like it’s going to beat out of his chest while his cock throbs.

“Missed you more than you know,” you say in a near whisper, pressing your lips to his like you’ve been eager to do since walking through the door. Changbin practically melts when you kiss him, as always; he just can’t help it– he’s forever going to be putty in your hands.

Was he right in his fear that you only missed him for the sex? Maybe, but he can’t even dwell on the idea anymore– not when the urgency in which you start touching him underneath his shirt while sliding your tongue in his mouth makes him weak at the knees.

Fuck it, maybe that is all you want him for these days, but he’d never stop giving you what you want. Use him over and over, run his heart into the ground when it’s done, what does it matter? At least in this moment he’s yours, even if it’s only temporary.

You grab Changbin by the waist and turn him around, pressing his back against the front door to the apartment. One of his feet very nearly gets caught up on your luggage on one of his steps back, but you kick it to the side, away from the two of you. His sound of surprise is muffled by your mouth on his, as is his gasp when your hands travel up to squeeze his pecs.

You can feel his body shudder when your thumbs brush over his nipples, letting out a whine when you pinch them between your fingers. He’s breathless by the time you pull away, watching you with that eager look in his eyes that makes you crazy for him. “B-Baby, what are you-” he tries to ask as you fall to your knees, though the last word dies in his throat when you look back up at him with a smile.

He still remembers the first time he slipped up and called you “baby.” You were on top of him, riding him so good that all he could do was babble on and on about how good it felt while gripping the bed sheets beneath him. “S-So good, oh my god, baby, it’s– you’re so good, feels so good,” he whimpered, whining loudly when you stopped moving to just look at him.

Changbin was going to ask why you stopped, beg you to please, please keep going, but then it hit him all at once– he called you ‘baby’ when it was never something either of you had done before. And instantly, he looked up at you utterly mortified with himself, ready to apologize over and over again for crossing the line in your friends with benefits relationship.

While the arrangement didn’t come with strict rules, such as no kissing for example, he still was concerned that it was a touch too far in the ‘romantic relationship’ direction. But to his surprise, and relief, you smiled at him, calling him sweet names in return after picking your pace back up. You continued to try out names, gauging his reaction carefully until you found the one that seemed to make him react the most.

And now here you are, looking up at him with his cock pulled out of his sweatpants and throbbing in your hands, calling him the name that turns his brain and body to jelly. “Want to show you how badly I missed you, bunny,” you told him before pressing a lingering kiss to his already leaking tip, his pre-cum smearing over your lips.

Thank fucking God you pressed him against the door, because if he didn’t have the support he’s pretty sure his legs would’ve given out. It’s not often that you’re the one on your knees for him, and the sight is so erotic it makes his brain feel like it’s going to melt out of his ears– not to mention the way you’re talking to him on top of it.

“So hard and leaky already,” you comment gleefully, sticking out your tongue to lick over his tip, “you missed me too, didn’t you, bun?”

“Y-Yeah, missed you, I missed you so much,” Changbin replies breathlessly, struggling to keep his hips still and not rut against your hands. He bites his lip, restraining the whimpers that threaten to endlessly spill when you open your mouth to take him in.

You don’t waste any time getting the corners of your mouth used to the stretch, or for Changbin to get used to the feeling after having gone without it for so long; you take him all at once, until his tip is touching the back of your throat and your nose is pressed against his pelvis.

His head falls back against the door as he squeezes his eyes shut, slapping his hand over his mouth to muffle the obscenely loud moan you draw out of him. Normally he pays no mind to his volume because he knows you prefer him loud, but he’d be beyond embarrassed if any neighbors walking the hall heard him just on the other side of the door.

You swallow around his length, and it takes effort to not gag given how thick and heavy he is, but you manage just fine. Breathing through your nose, you stroke his cock with your tongue whenever you need to give your throat a tiny break, sometimes pulling back to take a bigger breath and let more air into your lungs before sucking him into your mouth again.

Changbin cards his fingers through your hair, but doesn’t pull– just holds your head in an effort to ground himself. His thighs are trembling, and he’s seemingly given up on trying to be quiet, or is simply too far gone to care anymore, the hand he was using to cover his mouth now clenched into a fist at his side.

“W-Wait, wait, baby, please wait, don’t wanna cum yet,” he pleads as his stomach clenches, the twitching and throbbing of his cock growing more in intensity. He’s lifted his head from the door, looking down at you now and meeting your gaze as you blatantly ignore his request and continue to swallow him down your throat.

“Please, please, your pussy– want your pussy, honey, please,” he tries again, chest heaving as he begs, the fingers threaded through your hair now clenching into a fist as well, but still, he doesn’t pull you off him. That’s one of the things you like most about Changbin– he’s so strong that it’d be easy for him to make you do whatever he wants, but he doesn’t.

Even now, as desperate as he is to be inside your pussy, he’s obedient, first and foremost. How can you resist giving him what he wants when he’s so sweet, perfect and well behaved? You pull off him with a loud ‘pop,’ watching the way his cock throbs pathetically against his stomach as his impending orgasm begins to ebb away.

You expect him to take a longer moment to recover, but even with how breathless he is, he’s leaning down to pick you up from the floor. You can’t help but let out a squeal as you’re lifted from the ground– you know very well that Changbin is strong, but it always surprises you how effortlessly he can lift your weight. Excites you too, if you’re being completely honest.

He has you in a full princess carry, one arm supporting your back while the other is under your knees. You know he won’t drop you, but you wrap your arms around his neck anyway for the extra security. He shows his appreciation for you with so many kisses over your face that you can’t help but giggle, and he holds you tighter when his kisses cause you to squirm in his grasp.

“Don’t tickle me with kisses when I can’t escape you,” you half-heartedly complain, and he giggles with you, pressing one more to your nose before he starts walking away from the front door. “We’re going to your room,” he informs you, figuring that’s where you’d prefer to me after having been away from home.

Your luggage lies forgotten on the floor as he makes his way past the open kitchen and living room, and into the hallway leading to your rooms. Standing in front of your door, you lean in his grasp to twist the door knob, and he gently nudges the door open further with his foot. Your bedroom is just how you left it a week and a half ago, and Changbin sets you down on your bed carefully.

“Are you going to undress yourself for me?” you ask with an expectant tilt of your head, and he blushes ever so slightly as he shyly giggles and nods. It never fails to make him a little shy when you watch him undress like this, but he also takes pride in the way you look at him. Hungry, but somehow still tender and sweet.

He starts with his sweatpants and underwear, considering his cock is still out from when you pulled them down just enough to get it out. Kicking his feet out once they’ve fallen to the floor, his shirt is next, and he very quickly pulls it up and over his head. “My baby,” you coo at him after beckoning him closer, and it makes his head spin.

It’s the first time you’ve used a possessive term with him. Your baby.. Yes, whether you know it or not, he’s yours. Only yours.

“You’re so handsome, you know that?” you continue, smiling when the pink on his flushed cheeks deepens, “And sexy, and adorable, and lovable.” You love complimenting him– even before you were friends with benefits, you’d tell him sweet things whenever you could. It took him a long time to grow into himself and get comfortable and confident in his own skin, and he deserves the pride and joy he feels now.

Lovable is a new one, and he tries not to let it root itself inside his head– you certainly do love him, but just as a friend, he knows it. You’ve always been sweet to him, and he’s certain that your doting on him and sweet gestures increased only because of the slight change in your relationship, and no other reason.

Regardless, does the reason matter? You’re complimenting him earnestly, and that’s enough. Even if it’s said without romantic intent, you do mean it– and that’s all he needs, really.

“Help me out with my own clothes now, won’t you, sweet boy?” you ask, and he gives you an excited nod that makes you giggle again. You lift your back off the bed so he can help you with your top and bra, then lift your legs so he can help you out of your pants and underwear when you let your back fall against the bed again.

He kisses you the entire time he’s getting you out of your clothes, only breaking away when he has to. “Gonna get you ready for me,” he breathes out near the shell of your ear before planting a kiss there, and then trailing them down your neck. He slides his hand between your legs as he does, and you spread them apart for him to make his task easier for him.

You both know you can handle the sting from his cock stretching you out, sometimes you even crave it– but you can never deny his desire to be sweet to you. If he wants to stretch you out on his fingers first, you’ll let him do it every time.

“Oh, honey, you’re so wet,” he gasps as he runs his fingers between your folds. It shouldn’t be much of a surprise, really– you always get soaking wet when you and Changbin are being intimate. Still, it always surprises him as much as it did your first time together; he supposes there’s a part of him that still can’t believe you’re this physically attracted to him, even with how much you shower him with compliments.

Of course, if you knew he had that thought, you’d shower him with even more of them, until there wasn’t a single doubt left in his mind. He’s perfect, truly; there’ll never be anyone who can compare to Changbin.

You don’t need him to start slow or careful, but he does regardless, starting by pressing just one of his fingers to your hole before sliding it inside. He knows you can take more at once, would even enjoy the sting that would follow, but he wants to be good to you! When you’re full of him, so thick that you’re full to the point it’s almost too much, he wants it to be pure bliss.

Changbin pumps his finger in and out of you slowly, waiting until he’s certain you’re about to start whining for more before adding a second, and after just a little more he’s adding a third. He keeps his fingers still for just a moment, making sure you’re well adjusted before he starts to thrust them in and out in the way he knows you love.

And God, even though it’s you that’s getting fucked right now, he feels like he’s going a little crazy. He’s so addicted to the noises you make, the way your breathing starts to hitch and turn more shallow, how your eyes roll back when he hits that gummy spot inside you. You’re so fucking slick, and squeezing his fingers so tight that he can barely even think straight– not that he was entirely to begin with.

Is it just because it’s been over a week since the last time you were together? He never thought himself so insatiable or easily worked up, but fuck, you just unlock something in him. He’s had sex plenty of times before you started sleeping together, had plenty of fun experiences with different partners, but only you make me feel so.. needy.

“Binnie, baby, want your cock now, give it to me, please,” you whine, voice impossibly pretty and breathless. “Ah but– are you sure, baby? Don’t want me to make you cum first?” he asks as he slows down the motion of his fingers.

“We’ve both waited long enough, haven’t we?” you ask, rhetorical; it’s much more a statement than a question. You look at his cock, still leaking steadily and impossibly hard, and then look back to Changbin’s face. “Let’s cum together. That’s what I want,” you tell him, and you can’t help but notice the way his cock twitches from your words in your peripheral.

Of course, he can’t resist doing whatever you want– especially not when there’s a promise to cum together at the end. So he slips his fingers out of you, and before he can even ask what you’d like him to do, you’re putting your hands on his shoulders and guiding him to his back.

He falls to his back easily, swallowing as he watches you crawl on top of him. You’ve done it countless times at this point, but it never stops being sexy and exciting to watch. Your hands planted firmly on his chest, and your legs straddling his body, you move your hips back and forth, rubbing your pussy up and down his length to get it wet.

His tip rubbing against your clit feels so fucking good too, but that’s not why you’re doing this; so you quickly move on before you get carried away and end up grinding on him until you cum. Reaching your hand between your bodies, you grab his cock at the base and angle it where you need it.

Changbin watches with eager eyes and bated breath, his hands holding your hips for extra support. Even when you start to slowly sink down on him, and you’re both gasping and breathless from the pleasure, he’s careful to not squeeze you too hard. He’s always so tender and careful, even when doesn’t need to be, and you love him for it.

And true to what he hoped, there’s no sting when you’re fully sat on him, the stretch nothing but pleasurable for you. Because of this, it also means you don’t have to start slow– and so within just a few short moments, you’re bouncing on him rapidly, leaning down to kiss him as you do.

He has long since stopped being embarrassed about the noises you draw out of him, whimpering and moaning freely as the pleasure seeps into every pore of his body. Your tongue once again slips its way into his mouth, and he meets it eagerly with his own, happy to slide it around yours.

Bouncing on his cock, and kissing him like this, he can’t help but be reminded of the very first time you slept together. You had just freshly agreed to the friends with benefits arrangement, both of you lonely and in need of some intimacy, but being done with relationships for the time for your own reasons.

You took the lead, and it was the first time anyone ever had– he was so used to being the macho man in charge for his lovers, that he found it interesting and exciting that you wanted to be the one in control. You told him what to do, how to do it, praised him and guided him along, had him lay down while you crawled on top and did all the work for him after you were ready to take his cock.

And to his surprise, he instantly liked it– loved it, even. He never considered before then letting someone else have the leading role in bed, but after you started, it just felt natural. And when you leaned down and kissed him in that moment, when everything was so different for him and exciting, it felt like everything shifted, like the entire world titled on its axis.

Maybe he’s been in love with you since then, but only fully realized what he felt recently. Maybe he’s been in love since even further before, but didn’t have the tools then to put that feeling together, because the line between friend and lover can sometimes be blurry. Maybe he’s been a fool this entire time, and continues to be one now– because he knows what he feels now for certain, but is still too scared to admit it to you.

He’s thankful that your tongue in his mouth prevents him from speaking– because he’s certain if it wasn’t, he’d end up saying something he shouldn’t. It doesn’t stop him from having the thoughts internally, however.

“You’re so perfect, I love you, I love you so much, I need you, need you to need me, love you,” his brain is screaming as his orgasm approaches once more. The noises leaving him growing more in volume and desperation is enough of a warning for you on its own that he’s close, but you can feel him throbbing too, eager for release after how close he was to cumming earlier.

You reach your hand between your bodies once more, this time to rub your clit with your fingers. It makes your pace falter a bit, but Changbin is more than used to helping you in the last stretch like this. He helps you keep your pace with his hands, and thrusts up into you in time with the fall of your hips onto his.

“C-Cumming, oh, bunny, you’re making me cum,” you whimper, biting your lip and furrowing your brow as the circles you draw on your clit grow messy. You gasp when your orgasm hits you, your breath catching in your throat as your mouth hangs open in a silent cry. Changbin was already close, and the way you squeeze around him as you cum unravels him too.

His cum shoots inside you, hot and sticky, his entire body trembling as he whimpers and whines beneath you. He’s not sure when he closed his eyes, but when he opens them he sees you looking down at him with such a beautiful smile that he truly feels like he died and went to heaven– because fuck, you’re an angel.

Changbin reaches a hand up, tucks your messy, fallen strands of hair behind your ears, smiling when you coo and call him a “sweet boy,” again. You let your body fall against his chest, resting your head in the crook of his neck as you close your eyes and let out a content sigh. “Baby?” he questions, giggling a little when you mumble about being tired against his skin.

“We have to get you cleaned up,” he reminds you, though the way he strokes your back surely doesn’t give you any motivation to get off him. “And you need to go to the bathroom before you fall asleep!” he adds, and you hum an acknowledgment, but still make no effort to crawl off him. Instead, your body relaxes even further, and soon enough you’re not even responding to him talking to you anymore.

You’ve fallen asleep much quicker than Changbin would’ve ever expected; he’s sure you’re tired from the days you spent away and the trip back home, and the fact that you fucked him immediately upon getting home likely didn’t do you any favors in keeping the fatigue at bay.

But he’s still here in your bed, beneath you, your body warm and soft and entirely limp as serene snores leave you. He’s not sure if he should try to wiggle his way out from under you, or just stay like this and sleep together. He knows what he wants to do, but.. he’s never spent an entire night in your room, nor have you done so in his.

And all he can think about while he looks up at your ceiling with you in his arms is how much he loves you but can’t tell you.

Fuck. What does he do now?

It’s been days since Changbin has had the chance to speak with you, but whether or not that’s entirely a good thing remains to be seen– because even with the distance to sort himself out, his mind remains addled and plagued by the desire to be with you as a lover.

Thankfully, you haven’t noticed anything off with him– mostly because the distance since arriving back home was due to your own need to catch up on sleep, unpack your belongings, and get ready to go back to work and resume life as usual. Whenever you’re not sleeping, you’re busy, and that works for Changbin– or it was supposed to, anyways.

All he’s done the last few days is get back into his spiral. Confess his feelings or not, risk your friendship or keep everything to himself, move out before he loses his mind or stay until the day you decide you’re done.. He wishes there was a simple, easy answer. More than that, he wishes he could guarantee that you’d stay with him if he laid his feelings bare for you.

And he misses you. You’re only a room away across the hall, but he misses you. And he doesn’t fucking know what to do with himself anymore. He’s been trying to sleep for hours now, but all he can do is toss and turn and think about you, how bad he needs you– not just emotionally, but physically too. Because the moment he started thinking about you, it was only a matter of time before he began to reminisce about the sex you’ve had.

Is his brain fucking against him, or what? As if it wasn’t bad enough he was in a spiral over the possibility of you rejecting his feelings, now he can’t stop thinking about how pretty you looked after your shower this morning. He only saw you in passing, as he had to head out for work and you had to get back to catching up on the work emails that piled up in your inbox while you were away, but God..

If it wasn’t for the fact that you really needed to get your work done before going back to the office when the weekend’s over, he would’ve dropped to his knees right there in the middle of the hallway and eaten you out until you were begging him to stop (or forcing him to by pulling his hair.) He wouldn’t even have cared about his own job– Chan would forgive him, he always did.

And truly, this is agony. Worse than agony, it’s torture. He needs to go take a cold shower and calm the fuck down so he can start thinking rationally again– as rationally as he can manage to in his lovesick state, anyways. With a heavy sigh, he throws his blankets off himself and reaches for his glasses on his nightstand. After putting them on, he rises from his bed, hoping the shower will be enough of a reset to let him get some sleep.

Opening his door, he’s surprised to see you’re awake. Well, he can’t see you just yet from the hallway, but he can see that the lamp in the living room is turned on, and can faintly hear the tv playing lofi focus music. And even though he probably shouldn’t, he can’t resist walking over to check in on you.

He can hear you typing away on your laptop as he gets closer, and you look away from the screen and turn your head in his direction when you hear his footsteps over the softly playing music. “Oh, Binnie!” you smile at him, and it’s so genuine it makes his heart flutter. He’s so fucking screwed. “Couldn’t sleep?” you ask him, taking a small break from responding to emails to give him your attention.

“O-Oh, yeah, well I was trying to sleep, but..” he trails off when he sees you glancing down his body, to the painfully obvious erection straining against his shorts. “Had a problem?” you finish for him, and his face instantly flushes red. It’s not like it’s the first time you’ve caught him with an erection, but it always makes him feel so perverted when it happens this way.

“I can help you,” you offer, shooting him that pretty smirk that always turns him into jello. Fuck, you’re a siren, and he’s helpless to resist you. But still, aren’t you busy? As much as he’s willing to fuck up his own work performance for you, he’d feel terrible if his neediness made your own work harder for you.

“I-I was going to shower and take care of it myself, but I saw you were awake and I just wanted to see what you were doing and.. Anyways, you don’t have to! Seriously, I know you’re busy! It’s okay, I don’t-” he babbles, and you giggle at him. He’s just so cute, especially when he’s trying his best to be considerate to you.

“C’mere. I can’t help you right this minute but good boys like you know how to be patient, right? You can sit pretty here until I’m done with my emails?” you ask, patting the spot next to you on the sofa. Shit, you always know just what to say to him.

He listens to your siren song, coming to where you beckon him to sit like the obedient boy you know him to be. “Take your cock out for me, baby,” you instruct, and again he listens, not a single ounce of hesitance as he slides his shorts down enough for his erection to spring free. He watches as you set your laptop on the coffee table and stand up, curious as to what you’re doing.

Changbin gulps when you slide your own shorts down your legs, as well as your panties, and fuck, he’s excited, but more than that he’s confused. He thought you told him he’d have to wait until you were done with your emails.. So why are you undressing already..?

Maybe this is to keep him hard and eager– make him sit there with a view of your bare pussy so that by the time you’re done, he’s desperate and begging for you. Maybe you want to test the limits of your “good boy,” see how riled up you can make him while you work until he snaps and bends you over the sofa, taking you as he pleases.

You stand in front of him with your back facing him, and though it’s a bit awkward and challenging, you reach behind and take his cock into your hand. “Spit on it, get it wet for me,” you tell him, and though his mind is still reeling from the unexpected development, he does as you ask.

You spread his saliva around his length as best you can with your fingers, and when you’re content, you carefully press his cock to your hole. It takes you a second to get the angle right thanks to the position, but once you’ve got it, you slowly start to sink down. Changbin gasps and whines, bewildered by what’s happening right now. “B-Baby, I- what- what are you doing? I thought- I don’t-”

“You’re still going to wait,” you tell him after you’ve fully sat in his lap, doing your best to keep your voice steady and firm despite how deliciously his cock is stretching out. “Be good for me, and stay still ‘til I’m done, okay? And then I’ll take care of you,” you tell him, and again he whines as he watches you lift your laptop from the coffee table and set it back in your lap.

It’s a little awkward to type like this, but you think the fun that’ll result from it is worth it. Changbin eagerly nods his head, but then he remembers that you can’t see him in this position, so he speaks the best he can. “Y-Yes, I’ll be good for you,” he says with a shaky breath, biting his lip when you squirm ever so slightly to get more comfortable.

You lean back into him, his chest pressing against your back, his face close enough to your neck and shoulder that you can feel his labored breaths tickling your skin. He hears a click on your touchpad, opening a new email he assumes, followed shortly by the sound of keys resuming as you respond to it.

Why is this so fucking hot? His dick is fully pressed inside you, and you’re not even paying attention to him– just continuing to type away on your laptop as if he’s not even losing his mind beneath you. Or should he say behind you? Both?

He bites his lip and closes his eyes, trying his best to keep staying still like you told him to, his hands clutching the sofa cushions to keep them from wandering without permission and distracting you from your work.

And God, he’s trying so hard to be quiet too, but it feels so impossible. The more you type away and click open new emails, the more he throbs. And the more he throbs, the more your pussy reacts by squeezing around him. And then he can’t help but whimper, his eyes rolling back when you adjust in his lap and cause the tiniest bit of friction.

Click, more typing. A few more clicks, more typing. Click, click, more typing. How long has it even been? Since the moment you sank down on him and started working, he feels like he’s lost all sense of time. All he knows is that your pussy has been squeezing him so good– and it’s so wet now too. Is it just as exciting for you as it is for him? Do you like it? Or is it how good he’s being for you that’s making you soak his cock?

“B-Baby, are you almost done? Please tell me you’re almost done,” Changbin whines, the desperation in his voice palpable. You chuckle as you click send on another email, wishing you could see his face right now– you’re sure he’s absolutely debauched. “Not quite,” you answer, and you can practically hear the pout in his whine.

Changbin is many things, but impatient and disobedient is not among the list. And he’s trying so, so hard to keep staying still, but he doesn’t think he can take it much longer. Honestly, you’re not sure if you can either– you’re quickly losing focus on your emails, and you’re fairly certain at least a handful of them were written less than professionally.

Still, you click open another one, trying not to react to the way he desperately whimpers. He can’t be bad, he can’t– so his only option is to keep sitting here, and take it. “You’re- you’re almost done now, right?” he asks after another few minutes of waiting– at least, it felt like that to him. For all he knew, in reality it could’ve been more like 30 seconds.

“What’s wrong, baby? Can’t wait anymore?” It’s a bit of a mean question, you know– especially since you already know the answer. But still, it’s fun to ask, and you love how whiny and breathy his voice has gotten in the time you’ve been sitting on his cock.

“I-I’m sorry, I’m really trying, I just- I-I’ve never wanted to fuck you so bad before, I’m going crazy,” he practically cries, and you’re sure that if you turned around, you’d see his plump lips formed into the cutest, most devastating pout. “But I’m- I’m good,” he continues after taking another shaky breath, “I won’t move, not unless you tell me to, I promise.”

Fuck it– you still have work, but who cares? Surely your boss will understand if you couldn’t get to every email right? You got through most of them, and that counts for something, doesn’t it? That’s the justification you give yourself anyways as you close your inbox.

“You want to fuck me, Binnie?” you ask him, and he eagerly nods just as he did before, remembering again at the last moment that you can’t see him. “Yes, yes! I really, really want to,” he replies, letting out a salacious moan when you start to lift off him. You shut your laptop and place it back on the coffee table before you turn around to look at Changbin.

Just as you expected, he looks deliciously debauched. Lips swollen and bitten red, face flushed, eyes sparkling with hope and desire as he looks up at you. “You’re right baby, you’re good. Such a good boy,” you coo at him, leaning down to kiss him sweetly. “How do you want me?” you ask him when you pull back, and his brain has to work overtime to stop itself from short circuiting from the question.

If you’re letting him pick, there’s one clear answer that’ll make him the happiest. “Lay down- on your back, please. Want to look at you, want you to look at me,” he says, and you smile at him as you lay back against the sofa, spreading your legs so Changbin can crawl between them. He kisses you as he takes his cock in his hand, pressing it against your hole before pulling away to look at you for approval.

“Go ahead, fuck me, bunny,” you encourage him sweetly. A shiver runs down the length of his spine as he starts to push back inside you, another obscene whine from deep in his throat leaving him when he’s fully inside. He leans down to kiss you again when he starts to fuck you earnestly, because that’s all he can think to do with his overwhelming wave of emotions.

He’s thrusting fast from the start, all the pent up desperation and need for you pouring out of him ceaselessly. Your eyes always stay on his, even when he hits your spot in the way that normally makes them close or roll back, and it makes him crazy how you’re catering to his desire to have you looking at him.

Your eyes are so pretty, so warm in the way they look at him. Everything about you is warm– your hands when they hold him, your body when it envelops him, your voice when you speak to him. The way you smile at him when he enters the room, the way you laugh at his stupid jokes, it’s warm, all of you is so, so warm. You’re home, you’re comfort, you’re bliss.

He feels like he’s unraveling in his entirety as he looks down at you, his pace quickly growing sloppy as his cock throbs. He can’t handle the way you’re looking up at him, can feel the tears threatening to well up in the corners of his eyes. He’s so overwhelmed by it all– by the pleasure, by the way you look lying beneath him, by how much he loves you.

“You’re so beautiful, oh my god,” he whines, every thought that’s been running through his mind falling from his lips as he squeezes you in his arms. He knows he should shut up, should bite his lip or slap his hand over his mouth before he says something he shouldn’t, but the words just keep pouring out of him.

“You’re so pretty, so fucking pretty, I can’t take it sometimes,” he continues, whimpering when you bring your fingers to your clit and start to squeeze around him tighter. “You- you make me so crazy, you’re perfect, so perfect, and- God, ‘m so close, love you so much, I love you,” he stutters, his eyes rolling back as he feels you start to cum with him. He presses his cock fully into you one last time, his cum spurting out in thick ropes until you’re full.

He’s panting, glasses fallen down to the tip of his nose, body trembling as he slowly starts to come down from the high. “Binnie,” you call him softly, and it’s not until he opens his eyes and looks at you again that what he said hits him like a ton of bricks.

He told you he loves you. While he was fucking you. He told you he loves you.

There’s no way to turn it out around as platonic in this scenario– it’s so fucking obvious how he meant it. To say he’s mortified is an understatement; and when he tries to speak, all that comes out are pathetic stutters, every explanation he wants to offer dying in his throat. Your eyes are watery as you look at him, and suddenly his throat feels impossibly dry, his hands clammy as he pulls out of you.

He fucked up so bad. He ruined everything, he knows he did– this isn’t how he wanted to tell you, he wasn’t even ready to tell you. And now you know, and you’re looking at him with so much concern he feels like he’s going to shatter. Not anger, not sadness, but care– a care entirely different from what he’s seen on you before.

It’s pity, isn’t it? You don’t share the sentiment and you pity him for blurting it out like that. “You love me?” you ask him, your voice soft but cautious, unsure. “I..” Changbin tries again, but honestly he just wants to cry. Every emotion, every word, lodged in his throat and stuck, but still he tries to explain himself. “I’m sorry, I- I didn’t mean-”

You’ve always loved Changbin. Since the early days of your friendship, you’ve loved him. How could you not? You’d never met someone as sincere as him, his every action so affectionate and caring. A gentleman through and through, always making sure the people he loves are taken care of, always the first to offer a helping hand when someone is in need.

But you’d given up on the idea that you could have something more so long ago– and becoming friends with benefits with him told you that he didn’t love you romantically. He was the first to offer, and people don’t offer that arrangement if it risks their feelings getting exposed; so he didn’t love you that way, you were certain.

You told yourself you were okay with that. You were done with relationships, so tired of having your heart broken after pouring all of your love and faith into someone. And sure, you’d be heartbroken again when Changbin inevitably decides to move on, but at least it was a heartbreak you accepted would come, you’d be ready for it– that’s what you always told yourself.

But he loves you? Like, is in love with you? And he’s mistaking your surprise, your teary eyes, your struggle to wrap your head around the fact that he loves you as much as you love him as rejection. You can see it in the panic in his eyes, the way he stumbles over his words, the tremble in his voice– he thinks you don’t love him.

How could he ever think you don’t love him?

“Changbin, I-” you try again, and somehow the fact that you’re using his full name hurts worse; it's like a confirmation that you’re done with him, with this. It’s irrational, but the part of his brain that’s trying to talk sense into him is drowned out by the panic and fear of rejection, as if he can protect himself from the pain by accepting the fact that you don’t love him now before you say it out loud.

“I need- I need a minute, I’m so sorry,” he blurts out, because even though he knows it’s coming, he can’t bear to hear it yet. He scrambles up from the sofa, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to spill as he rushes back to his room. He falls to his bed, burying his face into his pillows and lets out a trembling breath.

Tomorrow.. He can’t avoid this, knows he needs to accept it sooner rather than later, but for this tiny moment, at least until tomorrow, he’s still yours.

Changbin isn’t avoiding you. At least, not on purpose– he just hasn’t gathered the courage to leave his room yet. He feels a bit like a hypocrite; he prides himself on his communication skills, and yet in the face of an honest conversation and acceptance of rejection, he flounders. Is he pathetic? You’d have every right to think so.

Are you going to move out now? Should he? No, he should stop beating around the bush and just talk to you. You’re not in love with him, but you do love him– and that’s supposed to be enough, he told himself so many times that it is.

You can work past this, can’t you? It has to be possible. He just doesn’t want to lose you, even if it breaks his heart he can take not having you romantically, is totally fine without the sex– but losing you as a friend? He can’t bear that.

He sighs, covering his face with his hands as he lies in his bed. He slept like shit, and he’s sure you didn’t fare much better– a thought that adds to the guilt he feels. But fuck, he needs to face this. The only thing that would be worse than losing you as a friend because being friends with benefits blew up in his face would be losing you because he was a spineless coward.

Changbin grabs his phone, checks the time– it’s still early in the morning, but you’re usually awake by now. With another sigh to steel himself for what’s to come, he gets up from his bed and faces his door. He takes a breath, another attempt to calm his nerves, and walks to his door, quickly twisting the knob and pulling it open.

“Oh!” you squeak in surprise, jumping where you stand before him. Changbin jumps too, with his own little shout of surprise coming out. How long were you standing outside of his door? Were you trying to work up the nerve to talk to him too? You blink at one another for a moment, and to Changbin’s relief, you’re the first to crack, letting out a little giggle.

He giggles too, and though it’s a bit awkward given what happened late last night, it’s a relief that you’re not mad at him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Changbin explains through his giggles, and God, your smile is so cute. You cover your mouth as you try to stop giggling, eyes crinkling and sparkling as you look at him, “No, no! It’s my fault for standing outside your door like this.”

It eases him, feels more like the normal he’s used to with you– the normal he hopes and prays you can still share after this. “Can I come in?” you ask him, and of course he lets you, stepping to the side so you can enter his room. Your body language is still relaxed, but when you look at him again, your expression is serious.

Part of him worries that the lighthearted moment you just shared was a lapse in judgment on your part, and that you’re about to chew him out for running away last night– not that he wouldn’t deserve it if you did. But what you actually end up saying is a much stronger shock to his system. “Why do you think I don’t love you?”

“Wh-What? I-I.. I don’t-” Changbin stutters, blinking at you in utter shock, not even entirely sure how to respond.

“Because I do. I love you so much, Seo Changbin. The idea that you think I don’t hurts me,” you tell him, entirely sincere. That’s the part of his impromptu confession that kept you up at night, the part that upset you? Not that he loves you when he shouldn’t, or that your friendship might be ruined?

“If you think you’re not enough for me, you are– if you think you aren’t deserving of love, you are. Tell me what it is, so I can make sure you never question how much I love you again. Okay? I need you to promise me that.”

Changbin blinks, frozen, a million thoughts and emotions running through him. If he’s being honest, he doesn’t know the answer. There was such a big chunk of his life where he wasn’t happy with himself– the way he looked, the soft parts of his personality, his desires that felt so grandiose and impossible..

He thought he had to live to what other people expected him to be, that it was the only way they would love him. It took him years of effort, of stumbling and falling and getting back up to get where he is now. More confident in his body, in the way he walks through the world, in the love he pours into his family and friends.

But there’s that part of his old self that still lingers– a part that calls to him late at night, that makes him question if he’s allowed to be this happy. That reminds him it’s still there when he’s weak and unsure, that crawls up his spine whenever you smile at him, that won’t let him believe that you could love him.

Changbin isn’t the same lanky, insecure boy he was when he first met you, but maybe he is. He looks different than he did then, but maybe that part of him is still there, underneath the built up muscle and maturity. Maybe it always will be, maybe there’s no way to ever make it go away– but maybe he doesn’t need to.

He thinks of all the times you were there for him, from the very first day you met. How you always encouraged him to do what makes him happy, how you supported him through his every decision to better himself.

“I think you’re perfect the way you are, but if going to the gym would make you feel better about yourself, you should do it!” you told him when he brought up the topic of trying to bulk up and fill out his body. “You’re so adorable Binnie, seriously, how can you be so cute?” you grinned, pinching his cheeks the first time aegyo slipped out in front of you.

No matter which version of himself he showed you, you loved him. Each part, no matter how different and against expectations, you cared for. And even with all the work he put into himself, there was still the part of him that tried to change in his romantic and sexual relationships. Trying to live up to what he thought his partners wanted, trying to adapt himself to them.

But so effortlessly, you dismantled the expectations he put upon himself. All the times you called him sexy and adorable in the same breath, made him believe that he could be both at the same time– that he could be manly and intimidating, sweet and loving, sexy and cute all at once, and it was all still genuinely him, all worthy of love.

Maybe it’s impossible to shove insecurity completely aside; it’s likely that it’ll always linger. Even when it’s small, and tucked away, and very nearly forgotten, it’ll be there, waiting. And maybe that’s okay, because when you have someone who loves you as you are, who reassures you and listens to you and comforts you, it’ll start to fade back out as naturally as it came in.

“I don’t know why,” he answers honestly, his bottom lip starting to quiver. His best guess is that his fear of losing someone he loves so much expounded upon his underlying insecurities, made them flare to the point that he felt like he could drown in them.

“I just know that I love you. And I need you, and not like- not like that, I just- ..I never want to be without you,” he continues, refusing to get choked up by his emotions and let it stop him from saying what he needs to. “And I promise- I’ll tell you, anytime I’m unsure of myself, I’ll tell you.”

You step closer to him, reach up and cup his face in your hands, rub the tears that threaten to fall from the corners of his eyes with your thumbs. His heart skips a beat when you smile sweetly at him, when you lean towards him to press a soft kiss to his lips, to tell him you love him. “You said I was perfect,” you say as you kiss him again, and then again, “but so are you. You’re the loveliest person I’ve ever known.”

You press more kisses over his face, complimenting each feature as you go. His deep, dark eyes that can be so piercing or so soft depending on the situation. His full cheeks, so cute and endearing when they’re pink from a blush, but so handsome and complimentary to his face. His downturned smirk when something amuses him that can easily turn into a fully bright upturned smile when he’s happy, and makes his nose scrunch adorably.

“Honey,” he breathes in a soft whine, unsure of what to do with all the excess affection. You guide him back to his bed, crawling atop him when he falls back against it, continuing your trail of kisses down his neck. “You deserve this,” you tell him, smiling against his skin when you feel him squirm beneath you, “deserve it all, and more.”

Changbin brings one of his hands to the back of your neck when you pull back to look at him, bringing you back down to him so he can kiss you. He doesn’t want to hold back anymore, to try and hide how badly he needs you. He kisses you like a man starved, hungry and desperate. His desire is carnal, every inch of him aching for your attention.

Your hands sweep over his torso, finding the hem of his shirt and tugging at it. He gets the hint, and separates from you so you can take it off him. He watches you remove yours too, heart thumping in his chest as you reach behind you to unhook your bra. He tries to lean up to kiss you again when you’re finished, but you push him back down.

He whines at first, but quickly swallows it down when you smile at him in that pretty way that makes his stomach flare with butterflies, his cock twitching as it hardens beneath you. Your hands travel his body, compliments about each and every inch of him freely falling from your lips. His arms, thick and warm and comforting. His chest, so strong and beautifully sculpted. His stomach, soft and cute, as perfect as the rest of him.

You kiss him too– everywhere your fingers touch, your lips follow. Soft, tender, overwhelming– his heart is beating so fast and hard, all your words, touches, and kisses make his blood feel like molten lava, every inch of him unbearably hot. It chokes him up too, how sweet you’re being to him; you’ve doted on him plenty of times, but never like this.

You take one of his hands in yours next, bring it up to your lips to press achingly soft kisses to it. The palm first, and then his wrist, before you turn it over to kiss his knuckles. You kiss the tip of each of his fingers, and his breath hitches as he watches you, goosebumps erupting all over him when you gently put it down and pick up his other hand to repeat the actions.

You treat him with so much reverence, shower him with more love than he knows what to do with. He’s trembling with emotion, aching with desire, overwhelmed by how much he loves you, how beautiful you look. He’s going to cry– seriously, he doesn’t know how much more he can take before tears start spilling out of him.

“Honey, please-” Changbin whines, and to his relief, you pause to look at him. “Please, I- let me make you feel good, please? I want to, I- I want to show you how much I love you too,” he begs. You intended to take care of him, to shower him in affection until you inevitably made him cum, but you meant it when you said you can never deny him his desire to be sweet to you.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” you say, and you watch as he chews on his bottom lip, face heating up further as he considers what to say. He knows what he wants, he’s thought about it so many times– it’s just the admitting and asking for it part that makes him a little shy. Still, you treat him so well, and you always indulge him, so.. The only thing to do is just go for it.

“I want.. Want you to sit on my face. Please? Please, please sit on my face,” he begs, and God, that has to be the sexiest thing he’s ever begged for. It makes your stomach flip, and if your legs weren’t straddling him, you definitely would’ve clenched them together. Lifting yourself off him, you make quick work of the remainder of your clothes.

Changbin scoots down the bed, so your legs will have more room when you return to him, chucking his glasses away, not nearly enough care in him for where they land. He looks at you, with a devastatingly sweet and bashful smile, his arms reaching out to help you when you start to settle above him. Your knees on either side of his head, he wraps his arms around your thighs.

The latter half of his face is obscured by your body hovering over him, but looking down, you can see his eyes, sparkling with eager excitement as he keeps your gaze. You lower yourself just a little, nervous to sit your entire weight on his face and suffocate him, but Changbin doesn’t want you to hover, he wants you to sit.

So using the arms he has wrapped around you, he pulls you fully down to him. You gasp– partly because of the surprise, and partly from the feeling of his tongue meeting your pussy. He focuses on your hole first, lapping up all the slick that drips out of you before he drags his tongue up to your clit, licking in a long, fat stripe.

He wraps his lips around it, sucking and flicking it with his tongue until you're writhing above him before he alternates back to licking you up, bottom to top, drinking all you offer. You bury your fingers in his curly hair, and he moans when you tug on it. He squeezes your trembling thighs, letting out happy hums whenever you moan for him.

He sticks out his tongue and lays it flat for you when you start to roll your hips, letting you grind against his face and use him however you see fit to. You shiver when your clit bumps against his nose, your breaths becoming harsher as you drive yourself closer to release on his tongue.

“Oh bunny, you’re so good to me, so good, ‘m gonna cum for you,” you cry, voice whinier than you would’ve otherwise liked it to be, but the way Changbin whines eagerly in response tells you how much he loves it. A few more rolls of your hips, and you’re cumming, your thighs squeezing around his head as you keep a tight grip on his hair to keep yourself steady.

Changbin enthusiastically laps up your release, continuing until you're squirming and whining from the sensitivity. He loosens his hold on your thighs when you do, letting you lift your leg over his head and fall to the side of the bed a little ways away from him. Both of you are breathless, but Changbin is the first to recover, and when he does he sits up and crawls over to where you landed.

He grabs your face, gently, of course, and pulls you into a kiss. His face is slick with your essence, and you can taste yourself all over his lips and tongue. “You looked so pretty,” he tells you softly between kisses, “You’re so gorgeous when you cum for me.” He carefully spreads your legs and slots himself between them, sliding his tongue around yours as he does.

“Want to give you my cock now,” he breaths, pulling away just enough to look at you with those eager, pleading eyes that make you weak. “Want to keep making you feel good, want to- want to watch your eyes roll back when I make you cum again.”

“Sweet boy,” you coo, spreading your legs wider for him, offering yourself to him, “do it, baby. Give it to me.”

He kicks off the remainder of his clothes in record time, taking his cock in his hand and spreading the dribbling pre-cum over his length until it’s completely wet. You’re more than ready for him, but he’s as careful with you as always, pushing each inch inside slowly.

You reach out to him and pull him down to you, kissing him hard and sweet, drinking in the whimper he lets out when he’s fully inside you. His entire body is trembling, still worked up from all the attention you gave him and sensitive from fucking you just last night. There’s a part of him that still feels vulnerable too, but he’s safe with you, and he knows you always will be.

He loves you well, but you love him better; and he’ll spend every moment he has showing how much he appreciates you. He doesn’t need to prove his worth, doesn’t need to do anything apart from be himself– the love you’ve given him has shown him that. You understand him, better than anyone ever has.

You love him, you always have, long before who he is now, and will continue to long into the future. All he has to do to repay all you’ve given him is love you. Love you honestly, openly, freely– because he’s enough as he is.

When he starts to move his hips, you both moan, Changbin just the slightest bit louder than you. He tucks his arms under your shoulders and pulls you closer to him, chests touching as he steadily builds a faster pace. He’s squeezing you in his arms, whining in your ear about how good you feel around him.

He’s so high-strung and sensitive that he doesn’t think he’ll last long, but oh, is he going to try. But shit, he’s still so emotional too– he thought he would’ve recovered by now, but it keeps hitting him in waves. And when you kiss him, it makes him dizzy– not just with lust and desire, but with passion, adoration.

The way he looks down at you when he pulls away takes your breath away, so sentimental and loving. You take his face into one of your hands again, and it takes everything in him to not get choked up again. Your love is his greatest comfort, but it also makes him ache– because no one has ever loved him as sincerely as you do.

“Do you need to stop?” you ask him tenderly, once again wiping the tears from his eyes. His heart feels like it’s going to burst from all the emotion, but he quickly shakes his head, offering you a sincere smile, “N-No, no, I’m fine! I just- I really love you,” he admits, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips to show you he means it.

“And besides, I might go actually insane if I don’t fuck you, cause seriously, how are you so fucking sexy?” he follows up. “Oh, shut up,” you giggle, playfully slapping his arm. “This is supposed to be about you, you know? My sweet bunny and how perfect he is- maybe I need to remind you?”

Changbin curiously tilts his head at your words as you lock your legs around him and using what strength you have, and with the help of gravity and momentum, you force him to roll to his side, and then to his back. You smile down at him, your roles easily flipped, while he stares up at you, mystified and easily the most turned on he’s ever been.

“Oh-” is all he manages to utter, his cock throbbing furiously inside you. He could’ve easily fought it– he’s physically much stronger than you, after all. But he just loves when you force him into the positions you want, loves to be malleable and pliant for you.

You plant your hands firmly on his chest, bouncing on his cock fast, the sound of your thighs slapping together just barely louder than Changbin’s obscenely loud whimpers. “Oh God, ‘m gonna cum,” he whines desperately, too wound up and sensitive to resist it, his hands clutching at the bedsheets so hard his knuckles have turned white, “please, please, please, can I, please? Please, let me cum.”

“I love you so much, Binnie, want you to cum for me,” you tell him, bringing one of your hands to your clit so you can cum with him, the way he always loves to. It causes you to squeeze tighter, and he gasps, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth as he trembles. “Give it to me, baby, be a good boy and cum for me.”

He does just as you ask, a messy string of “I love you”s falling from his lips until he’s too far gone to keep talking, tears streaming down the sides of his face as his eyes roll to the back of his head, and then close. His noises are high-pitched and pornographic, his entire body shaking with the intensity of his cum spilling inside you.

His vision is blurry when he starts to blink open his eyes, but soon enough you come back into focus above him, looking down at him affectionately. He smiles at you, a goofy, sweet one that makes you giggle. He wraps his arms around you and drags you down to him, pressing kisses to your lips over and over again.

Changbin tells you everything he’s wanted to this entire time as he does; how beautiful you are, how much he loves you, how he can’t imagine his life without you in it. He blushes when you do the same, while once again making him promise he’ll tell you if doubt ever starts to creep up on him.

The journey to loving yourself isn’t easy; it’s a long winding road, uneven and easy to stumble on. But when he falls, you’ll be there to catch him. You’ll remind him how loved he is, the value he has simply in being, how he brightens every day you share just by existing.

You’ll always be here, growing older with him, supporting him as he continues to grow and change, each experience turning him into a newer version of himself. And in every change, in every season of his life, you’ll continue to love him. Always.

network tags: @ksmutsociety @skzstarnet

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

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romana-after-dark · 8 months

Text

Rooms on Fire: Stop Dragg'n My Heart Around

Dark!Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader Dark!Francisco Morales x Fem!Reader Dark!William Miller x Fem!Reader Dark!Benjamin Miller x Fem!Reader

Also: FishBen, and an assortment of other M/M relationships (no Millercest). Everyone is Bisexual

Series Masterlist: Main Masterlist : MainTaglist

Spotify playlist

Summery: Madonna learns more about her role and the dynamics of the household.

Warnings and Content:

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

DUB CON MOSTLY but there WILL BE NON CON. Major character deaths, forced breeding, physical abuse, brainwashing, manipulation, violence, gore, alcoholism/addiction, BIG OLE BLASPHEMY WARNING like this cult appropriates a lot of religious themes and they call reader their Madonna, Santi is called the Pope, like all that stuff. However, this is a cult so I mean. It happens. None of it are my thoughts on religion or meant to make fun of religion or demonize religious people. Disgusting views on virginity. Attempted rape outside the boys. T*m warning. Age gap. Creepy terrible men. Non-reader rape, dub con, violence.

Extra warnings for chapter: Anal, oral, love bombing, control

This is not meant to be a statement about religion, Christianity, or Catholicism, this is simply my take on a cult. I am a religious person. I understand that some of this may be very offensive to religious people so if you don't like thing like AHS Asylum or Black Mass, maybe consider not reading.

A/N: Every chapter will be named after a song from the spotify playlist. Dont forget to commen fitting songs!!

6.2k words

Support writers! Reblog and leave comments!

NEW OC: Faceclaim, Dev Patel

**************

There's people running 'round loose in the world Ain't got nothing better to do Than make a meal of some bright eyed kid You need someone looking after you~ Stop Dragg'n My Heart Around, Tom Petty and Stevie Nicks

You were the wife of deities. You were blessed, honored. Holy mother. The Madonna, and inside your womb the savior would grow. All four of them were Gods of different patronage, each with their own abilities and passions.

Francisco was the god of nature. He was the god of all that grew in the earth, the soil. the flowers. He was clairvoyant, but also had a gift of growth. Life. His prayers over you would solidify implantation after conception, keep you and your baby safe.

Benjamin was the sun god, god of celebration, and celebrate he did. Ben’s mood often controlled the weather. Most of the time, regular weather patterns took place, Benjamin’s emotions could change them, and he was prone to big emotions. That’s why him and Francisco worked so closely together. Weather and nature, working to keep the crops growing and the people safe.

William was all about duality, you were taught in catechism. God of war, God of medicine. He had the gift of healing, but also impeccable military prowess. This made for a powerful ally and feared enemy. William headed the military and security, but also watched over the medical care.

And Pope, Divine Mothers only child. Pope had the gift of discernment and prophesy. He was incredibly intelligent, and with that came respect. He was not just born into this position, but born for it. God of family, god of passion. You felt that passion so clearly every time his eyes bore into you. He could no more hide it than he could his own beauty.

So why, with all this power surrounding you, did you feel so scared?

Everything just feels so confusing right now. You feel as if you can’t get your head on straight, like everything is whirling. You're married. You might be pregnant. Why was everything so… hard. When Pope waved your bloodied sheet around, he was soon joined by a whooping Ben who took part in the celebrations and dragged Francisco out with him. It was just you and Will.

Naked and shivering, suddenly cold on the cool tile of the altar without the heat of passion to warm you

“Just one minute, I’ll get you dressed once I’m done.” He says quietly, kneeling before you with a wet wipe, gently dapping at your swollen folds. “Damn, really did a number on yuh, huh?”

You don’t know how to respond, so you don’t.

“Well, I think this is as good as it’s gonna get.” Leaning over, he presses a kiss to the top of your puffy parts and gets up, helping you down with a hand. He slides the dress back over you. William was gentle as he caressed your cheek. “You did so good for us, princess.” His hand moved to your belly. “You’re a good girl, and soon you’ll be full with our baby, I just know it.”

You stand there in shock, unable to exactly form a reaction. The lights were too bright, it was too warm. There were too many flowers and incense and candles and oils… to much. You shut down and Will finishes dressing you: shoes, flower crown minus the ropes of vine. He stuffs your underwear in his pocket with a smile. “My little dividend.”

Jonah was outside the room, laying down on a bench with his cowboy hat pulled over his face.

“Wake up, old man” Will spoke with a bite you weren’t used to.

He mumbled under the hat. “I’m awake, damn. Just resting.”

William nudged you towards where he was standing. “Watch her for the rest of the cocktail hour, then bring her in for the entrance.”

Jonah frowned. “She ain’t going to the cocktail hour with you?”

“What’s the point? She can’t drink. She might be pregnant.”

“It’s her wedding.”

Will rolled his eyes. “She’ll have the wedding shit, this is more of a… stag party. Bachelor party sort of thing.”

You didn't know what that meant. You weren’t sure you wanted to.

“Whatever. I’ll watch her.”

“Yeah. You will.” Williams harsh glare softened as he turned to you, holding your face with both hands. “I’ll see you in an hour, my beautiful bride.”

When he left, Jonah mumbled something and began walking you down the long hall. The place was huge, absolutely massive. The worship chapple and sanctuary were attached to the house, originally built as a pool house but refurbished with the establishment of Delta. Divine Mother wanted her home attached to the sanctuary so she could go whenever she wanted, no matter the weather, so a hall was built on. In addition to the several bedrooms, living rooms and so on, there was a ballroom. This is where you would go after. For now, it seemed, you weren’t needed…

You wanted to go still. You were their wife, you wanted to meet the other members of Delta, you wanted to dance, to laugh, to smile with them… but the day's events left you tired, left you hurting, left you… confused. Why had they all left you so fast, save for Will?

“You alright, honey?” Jonah’s voice barely registers in your ear.

You don’t have it in you to answer, simply staring straight ahead as your breathing picks up speed.

“Hey, darl’n, hey.” He stops outside the kitchen. “What’s go’n on, you hurt?”

How do you even explain it, the panic rising up in you, the fear. Why were you scared? You were married to the gods, there was no safer position to be in. You were safe, protected… so why did you feel so on edge? Why was your head hurting, your heart racing, and why did you feel so used?

You stopped breathing before you realized it.

“Hey!” Jonah shook you, but your eyes felt glassy and unfocused. He pulled you through the swinging kitchen doors.

“Dad, what-” You hear Iris say and vaguely register a third person in the room. Iris stops what she’s doing and rushes to you. “What’s happening? What did you do?”

“Nothing! I got her after the ceremony and this just started!”

You were gasping for breath, the light and airy feeling in your head making everything a little blurring. Still, you register hands on your shoulders, calling your name. “You need to breath. HEY! You hear me? BREATH.”

But you can’t. The panic, all-consuming panic clawed at your throat and tightened your chest. Then, a hard slap.

*SMACK*

Iris slapped you, causing your body to gasp in shock. You took the opportunity to breathe in as much as you could get, and once the oxygen settled in, so did the clarity.

Dizzy, you stumble back and nearly topple over, but Jonah catches you. Careful, he sets you down in a chair. “Easy now, darl’n, breath, breath…” his arms were strong and safe around you, but Iris grabs your shoulders.

“Listen to me.” You look up to watch her, brown eyes fiery on yours. She commanded the room. “You need. To get it. Together. Those men out there-” She pointed vaguely out the door. “Are dangerous.”

“Iris…” Jonah whispers, but when her head whips towards him in anger, he backs off.

“You shut it, you don’t know jack shit about surviving here, especially as a woman.” Back to you. “I don’t care how you feel, I know you’ll probably fall in love because you’ve been so brainwashed, but I need you to understand this.” She leans in. “You need to get your shit together. You need to clean up, you need to get out there and charm the fucking dick off of every single person in that room. The only way you get through this is if you want a very thin line. Submissive but not weak. Obedient but not permissive. Have boundaries but keep them loose and never, ever, try to resist sex. This is no time to be weak.”

Her words barely made sense to you.

They weren’t dangerous. They LOVED YOU. You were their WIFE. But still, part of her words range true; you were the daughter of a traitor, a man who partook in an uprising that caused the death of the Divine Mother, and the other high up members would have their eye on you. You needed to make sure there was no reason to doubt your love for your husbands, nor your adoration of Divine Mother.

“Fuck,” Iris mutters something to the third figure in the room about ‘nothing there’ then stands up. “Jonah, go back to the dressing room and get the make-up and hair products.” It was only then you realized you had been crying, make-up running off your face. “Rey, I need you to help me in here.”

He was tall, about as tall as Jonah but not quite the Millers height. “What do you need?” He began to tie his dark curls back. Iris directed him on finishing the desserts while she took out all the food from the oven for the main dish.

When Jonah came back, Iris set to work redoing your face, making it look as if you never cried, never had a single scared thought. She fixed you up nice and pretty, then left you on the chair to wait for your entrance.

After everything was placed on carts to take out, Iris departed, with Jonah following behind shortly and instructing the other man to stay with you. Iris insists she doesn’t need a guard dog, but Jonah say something about not wanting her alone with ‘those drunk bastards’ if he can help it. You’re suddenly nervous, unsure about being alone with a man other than your husbands or Jonah, but you don’t have a choice.

“They’re a stressful pair to watch aren’t they?” The dark haired man says, pulling up a chair beside you. He turns it around, straddling it before sitting backwards and leaning his arms on the backrest.

You don’t want to be rude, so you give a shy smile without meeting his eye. “Are they… um… is uh…” You realize you don’t know Jonah’s last name, and are unsure how to properly address him to others. You don’t want to seem too familiar when you are a married woman now. “Mr. Jonah, is he Iris’s father? I heard her call him dad.”

He chuckles a bit, and you turn to look at him. With a better view, and clearer vision, you are able to take in his features. He’s handsome, but in a almost boyish way -although you doubt he’s younger than 30. Dark curls are still pulled back, but you’d estimate his hair falls about shoulder length, maybe shorter, as chunks are falling out. Strong nose, brown skin, and bright, brown eyes. Strangely jovial compared to Iris and Jonah.

“Yeah, kinda rare that happens. She’s um… well, they’d had… well I guess it’s not my place to say, but they’ve had some ups and downs. But yeah, she’s his daughter.” He extends a hand. “Reyansh Saha.”

You give him your name. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Saha.”

He laughs again, but it doesn’t feel like he’s laughing at you; it’s too good natured for that. “Just Rey is fine.”

“Oh, no, no I shouldn’t.” You try to protest.

“Ammayi” (my girl) He says with a glint in his eye. “No one here will understand you if you call me Mr. Saha, I promise you. You can call me Reyansh if that’s easier. Or, well, you can call me Mr. Saha if you’re uncomfortable of course” His tone is good natured, but clearly trying to ease you. You feel like a skittish animal, and he’s a good samaritan trying to coax you to some food.

You give a little nod. “Okay, yeah Reyansh works.”

You felt like you may have another panic attack.

Pope was on your right, holding your arm with William beside him. On your left arm was Benjamin; Francisco was fidgeting beside him.

“Baby.” Ben whispers to Francisco. “You gotta calm down, you're shaking…”

You watch as Pope turns abruptly at the nickname, but says nothing. Benjamin grabs Francisco's hand, squeezing it three times and giving him a little peck on the cheek before letting go. Francisco smiled, just a little.

You were making your grand entrance as husbands and wife, to the whole of Delta, to stand out on the balcony as the masses gathered below. Jonah instructed you on procedure.

“This is the most dangerous point. I have the entire guard in the crowd, both noticeably armed and plain clothes, everyones been searched before entry and theres no reason to suspect a problem, but-” He turned to you. “Anything happens, a gun shot, something is thrown, a fight breaks out, I am grabbing you and we are going. Don’t argue, don’t worry about them-” He gestures to the men beside you. “My only concern will be to get you to safety. Your husbands are all armed and trained fighters, you are not. You have me, understood?”

There would be no need for concern. As you stepped out, leading your husbands in a v shape through the curtains, a stark hush fell upon the crowd. Thousands of people, thousands, here to see your husbands. Here to see them with their brand new bride, the mother of their child. You were humbled, truly, to be honored in such a way that the god’s dained you deserving. Cheers broke out, no doubt to the flag being raised- your bloodied sheets, signifying that you were indeed a virgin, and had been claimed in the name of the gods. The crowd was adoring; how beloved your husbands were to their people!

You focused your hearing not being all that far away, to try and pick out a word or two, and were surprised with the result.

“MADONNA! MADONNA! MADONNA”

They were cheering… for you.

The priestess stood off to the side, raising her arms to hush the crowd.

“Hail Madonna, full of grace, blessed are you amongst women!”

Then, she kneeled.

Behind her, beginning with the front and sending a wave through the back, the entire mass of people knelt, chanting “Hail! Hail! Hail!”

To both your left and right, all four of your husbands bowed to you.

You were the holy mother. You were Madonna. You would bring about the savior and peace on earth. You were divine.

The party went swimmingly. Your new found confidence, it turns out, made speaking to strangers easier. You shouldn’t fear them for being a traitor's child, you shouldn’t feel their judgeful gaze. They should worship you. Not the same as Pope, William, Benjamin and Francisco, and certainly not Divine Mother, but you were blessed.

You never were far from William, Pope, or Benjamin, most moments of the evening were spent with their arms around your waist or holding your hand; you belonged to them.

Pope had pulled you to the dance floor, tender grasp keeping you close as he guided you through the violin music.

“You are just… so beautiful” He whispered, clean shaven face up against your own.

“Thank you.”

“You do understand how stunning you are, don’t you? Most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

You tuck your head in his neck, smelling his aftershave; or was it the liquor on his breath? You weren’t sure.

“It’s like you were made for me…”

A gentle kiss. “I was. I was made for you, by Divine Mother’s majesty.”

You could feel him smile at that, hands slowly trailing down your back. “That’s right, made just for me…”

You nuzzle against him, signing contently. He loved you, you were so, so loved… “Made for my husbands”

His smile dropped. When his hands grazed over your ass, he gripped it tight, painful, making you yelp. The noise and crass motion was sure to attract attention, and you turn to look.

Pope grabs your face, forcing you to look at him. “Don’t look at them, look at me. I am their god, they are nothing compared to us, what we do is none of their business. I could bend you over right now and if I told them to ignore it, to go about the party, they will. You understand me?”

You nod.

His fingers pinch your cheeks. “Your body was made for me, and it’s mine. Understood?” You realize now your mistake. You had said your husbands. Plural. You must have hurt his feelings when bringing the others into it, even if you meant well. You note that special times between you and Pope should remain exclusive. Don’t make him jealous.

“Made just for you” You push past the force of his hold to kiss him on the lips. “I belong to you.”

Popes body language relaxed, his plush lips smiling again as his grip softens. He runs his thumb over your lips. “So beautiful for me…”

As you spoke like old friends to a woman you’d never met in your life, Benjamin slid up to you. “‘Scuse me, darl’n, but may I steal my wife away for a few moments?”

The woman bowed her head and excused herself while Benjamin pulled you away.

It wasn’t long before you were out the ballroom, down a hall and into a small linen closet, his hands all over you; frantic, needy, a fully hard cock pressing against your skirt. This was to be expected, and you understood your role. At any time, day or night, busy or not, you were to be available to be filled.

He yanked at your skirt. “Yuh know,” Benjamin said between short pants of breath. “It was my brothers insistence that your dress have blue… he said that- mmphh- it was symbolic or some bullshit, but I think he just wanted his color on you.”

You weren’t entirely sure if that was true, but you didn’t want to make a committal answer so you attempt to kiss back, unsure of the movements still. “Mmm, Benjamin…”

“Call me Benny, darl'n.” He rucks up your skirt, only to find no underwear. He stops, blue eyes looking at you with a steely ferocity. “Will take your panties after he cleaned you up.”

Lie, your first instinct told you. He’s dangerous,lie. But he wasn’t dangerous. He was your husband. “Yes” You wanted him to touch you again, you liked the way he explored your body.

His brows pursed together before growling, turning you around and bending you over a small folding table. “God damn him, and god damn Pope!” Benjamin grunted, making you scared as he flicked your dress up to your waste. “I should’ve had you first!” Ben spits onto your exposed asshole, shocking you a bit.

You try to turn around when you hear his belt being undone. “What-”

“Shhhh” He pushes you back down on the table, freeing his hard cock. You jump when he slides a finger into your tight ring of muscle. It doesn’t feel bad, but not necessarily good, either. He begins to pump, then adds a second finger and you gasp at the intrusion. “Making me fuck’n wait till last-” You hear him spit on his free hand, beginning to jerk himself off as he begins to scissor you open.

“Ben!”

“Relax, baby, I’m not Pope, I ain’t tryna tear you open, you’ve bleed enough for one day.” You swear you hear him chuckle. What is he doing? You were confused, but also beginning to sink into the feeling of him. “They always do this to me, they always make me wait, and wait and wait just because Frank’s Pope’s favorite and Will’s ugh, Will’s older- goddamn” He stops, lining up the tip of his cock to your asshole and spitting a few more times. He was going to fuck you there?! Ben folds over, encasing your body in his warmth as he whispers in your ear. “Not this time, your ass is mine.” With that, he thrust into you, splitting your hole open as you cried out.

He laughs. “Lot louder than when Pope took you huh?”

Jonah found William getting a glass of wine and sipping it while watching over the party.. “I gotta talk to you.”

William doesn’t even turn to look. “Fuck off, Hanson.”

Will did not like Jonah, he knew. Their history prevented the same rapport that he had with Santiago, but never the less, he know Will was the one for this request.

“It’s about your precious Madonna.”

With that, Will turned.

Benny was insatiable, thrusting into you wildly and grunting with every movement. “So- fucking-tight-god!” He shouts and it takes everything in you not to cry… but that feeling was bubbling up again, despite the discomfort, but that discomfort was slowly slipping into something else.

The slightest moan escapes.

It seems then almost that Ben reminds you’re here, that he’s not fucking a hole in a wall and chuckles. “Oh, you like this, pretty girl? I can make it better, so much better.” He wraps a strong arm around you, toying with that sensitive spot that William was playing with earlier illiciating a much louder moan from your lips.

“God baby, thats it… gonna cum like this, darl’n? Gonna cum with a cock up your ass like the dirty girl I know you are? Yeah, yeah sure sounds like it…” He replies after your sounds of pleasure grow. “Under all this white, underneath that good girl act and that sweet little face, I knew, I just fucking KNEW your little virgin cunt was begging to get fucked, desperate for cock, huh?” His hips begin to falter, growing more sloppy. “Well now you got 4 cocks desperate to fill you up, to put our baby inside you first, fuck, you gonna be able to handle all that?

You can’t even reply, a mess of moans under his body.

He grabs your hair, yanking you up to look at him. “ANSWER ME!”

“YES!” You scream, so close to spilling over but not quite there, needy and whimpering for him. “I can take it! I want it! I want you all, all the time!”

“I know, darl’n girl, I know, f-fuck, ugghh fuck!”

Pulling out of your ass, you almost whine for him, whine for more, but he thrusts it into your pussy last minute. The intrusion sends you over, clamping down hard on him as he spills into you. “Yeaahh, that’s it, thats- oh my god, perfect little pussy- fuck!” When he finishes inside you, his warmth is all over you again, staying there for a moment with his cock plugged inside you. “Gotta make sure to cum inside your little pussy every time, no matter how good your ass or mouth feel. Can’t waste a drop.”

He caressing your arm as his body language softens, nuzzling his face into your hair. “So good, pretty girl. So fucking perfect.”

“She needs someone looking after her.” Jonah insists. “She’s just a kid.”

Will is dismissive, but behind his eyes hide curiosity. “That’s what you and security are for.”

Jonah signs. “Okay, listen, I’ll be honest here.”

“You sure that’s a good idea?”

“You ain’t fond of me, that’s a given. I get it. But let’s be clear.” Jonah drops his voice low. “Frank’s been mentally checked out all day. He don’t want nothing to do with this. Ben’s a -”

“Watch it.”

Jonah rephrased his next words. “He’s not gentle. He’s not careful, and when he’s high he flat out dangerous, and he buys into this whole delusion and so does Santiago. Santiago is worse, he’s delusional and can flip like a fucking switch. She needs someone to help her navigate them. That needs to be you.”

Will didn’t say anything, but from the way his brows were furrowed, Jonah new he planted a seed.

“Look, here she comes with Ben, she’s fucking stumbling, Will. Go take care of your wife.”

It hurt.

It was hard to walk like this, but Ben’s arms were tight around you. You felt strangely safe like this, like he was going to be there from now on.

“What the hell did you do to her, Ben?”

“Relaaaaax” Ben waved off his brother. “She’s fine.”

Will didn’t buy it.

“Pope got her pussy, I got her ass.” He shrugged.

Disgust spread across his features. “You did anal? With no lube? Jesus Ben!”

“RELAX!” Ben raised his hands in defense.

Will hushed him. “That’s enough for tonight, I’m taking you to bed.”

And that was that. Will’s arm replaced Ben’s and quickly guided you out the door again. Once out of sight, Will scooped you right out. “Ain’t having you walk like that, babygirl. ‘Slright, just rest.” And rest you did, clinging to him and laying your head on his firm chest. You felt like you were almost asleep when he laid you on the bed.

Like how he cared for you before, he cared again, undressing you with a gentle strength.

“Lay down, lemme make sure your okay.” The worry in his voice made your heart sing.

“I’m alright, I promise.” You whisper, but spread your legs anyway.

He tsks his tongue. “Poor little girl… you’re alright, but I know it must hurt, doesn’t it?”

You swallow thickly, nervous with his face so close to your core. “Um… it’s a little sore, I guess…”

“I bet… but it wasn’t all bad, was it?”

“N-no, it wasn’t…”

“I can see that…” A thick finger swipes up your slit. “Got all wet, didn’t you? You sure are easy to work up…”

You shutter at the touch, a little achy but still desiring him. How could you not? How could you not want him when he spoke to you so low, so careful? When carried you and cleaned you and dressed you… he was perfect, fucking perfect.

“Poor little girl…” William spoke in a deeper tone, planting a kiss to your clit and making you whimper. “Gotta be at the beck and call for four men… that can’t be easy, but you’ve been taking it so well…” His fingers move up and down your folds, spreading your cum and the new slick trickling down.

“It’s, mmmm it’s my honor to be found worthy…” You sit up on your elbows, curious as to his actions.

“And worthy you are, Madonna.” His lips glazed over your flesh. “Bless are you, among women” His hand on your stomach. “and blessed is the fruit of your womb.” You watch William, knelt before you, hovering with his mouth open above your waiting mound.

You whisper, “Please”

He whispers equally soft. “As you wish.”

When William latched his mouth onto you, it’s unlike anything you’ve felt before, although you can’t say you’ve felt much. His mouth is hot, wet, messy as he licks you, tongue and lips moving in tandem, like a well practiced team with the sole purpose of reducing you to a whimpering mess.

“W-Will, oh that… oh my god-”

But he didn’t stop, latching his tongue to your clit as his fingers entered you, and despite the overstimulation of the day, compared to the large phalluses that had breached your core, his fingers merely provided pleasurable stimulation. His free-hand remained busy as well, taking your private moment to explore the rest of your body. You didn’t understand what pleasure he could find in your thighs, your stomach, or playing with your fingers, but you relished in his closeness, the emotional and physical and sexual intimacy compared to the coldness of the deflowering.

But it had to happen this way, you thought as your hips bucked; William had begun swirling his tongue around your clit, causing a surge in pleasure. This afternoon was a ritual; systematic, calculated, precise. There was no room for intimacy, for love. But you’d seen it now. You’d seen it in the way Pope danced with you, in the way Ben caressed you after sex and praised you, the way Will touched you now… the only thing missing was Frankie.

It wasn’t long before Will had to gushing on his face, crying out his name in a hedonistic moan, a orgasm so blinding that the revelation that you existed to pleasure and be pleasured by these men until you were swollen with child seemed like a gift of godhood itself.

He pulled three more out of you before he was satisfied, making come on his face and fingers thrice before your final orgasm was only singled by an tired “Mmmmmmmph” and your contracting walls. Finally, he pulls back. You can’t see him, eyes too tired they won’t open, but you imagine his beard is glistening with the way he soaks you when he kisses you cheek.

When you’re situated in bed, where you can only assume is your room, you ask Will to stay, ask him to hold you while you fall asleep. He obliges.

You feel dwarfed in his grasp his body so large it makes you feel small, but also secure. You don’t have to be brave, you don’t have to be strong. You don’t have to think or to worry. Everything would be taken care of for you, you’d give birth to the savior and how many other children, and redeem your family name from your fathers betrayal. You would find redemption in this house, right alongside love, family, and maybe even friendship for the first time since you were twelve…

Everything was falling into place.

So why didn’t it seem like Francisco loved you?

Knock knock.

“Honey?”

Knock knock knock

“Honey you in there?”

Jonah.

“One moment!”

You open your groggy eyes and take a look around the room, finding a luxurious, long, white robe on the dresser. You put it on, covering your nakedness, and timidly open the door.

“Yes?” Jonah stood before you, gun slung on his hip as usual.

He looks sympathetic. “Sorry to wake you, but Santiago wants to see you, I’m here to escort you.”

Hearing someone refer to Pope as his given name is jarring, but something about Jonah is just… very different. He seemed so serious when talking to you about safety, about making sure only his most trustworthy men watched you and how determined he seemed at the balcony… but it seemed he took everything else so unserious to him.

You didn’t like that he referred to your husband by his name, it was much too informal, but you cared about Jonah, so you don’t mention it.

After dressing, Jonah takes you down stairs. You’re thankful for him, the house is too big for you to know your way yet.

“How you feeling?”

“About what?” You ask genuinely.

Jonah turns to you, a curious look on his face. “About… everything. Yesterday was a big day. A lot happened.”

Of course a lot happened. You were still leaking their cum. “Nothing that Divine Mother didn’t intend.” You say as if its obvious.

He sighs. “Right.”

Pope was waiting outside the door of the intended room. His smile grew when he saw you, walking over to place a hand on your cheek and kiss you. “Good morning, my beautiful wife.”

Wife… something so magical about that word.

Pope thanks Jonah and dismisses him, turning you to the doorway and opening it. “I have a surprise for you, bebita.”

When the door opens, you gasp as you’re led inside. Canvases fill the room as did papers, paints, pencils…

“How… how did you know…” You whisper in awe, your heart swelling at the gesture. He loved you, he really loved you and wanted you to be happy here. You were so lucky, so lucky to be adored like this, to be adored by him especially. Pope had worked his way deep into your heart in a matter of days. He was everything to you now, he was your world. You belonged to him, every single inch of your heart, your body, your mind, your faith was him.

“I’m the god of love, I know what mi amada needs… I’ll always know.” He stands behind you, wrapping his arms around your body, the body that belongs to him, and kisses your neck. “I can’t wait to see what you paint, Madonna…”

***************

PLEASE TELL ME UR THOUGHTS I THRIVE ON PRAISE

I feel like im doing ass at writing Ben here. I my normal fics on my main he's a consent king and so so so so soft so this is strange to me. BUT he can be tender and loving, dont you worry

SO, THE GENERAL CONCENSOUS IS YOU ALL WANNA FUCK JONAH. Lmfao, horny sluts. HE'S OUR FATHER FIGURE. Imagine having daddy issues. COULDNT BE ME (this is a joke lol)

But! Thoughts on Iris, and our new boy, Reyansh?

Not a super eventful chapter and i felt like Madonna have said like 10 words this whole fic but this has been the set up, now we can move forward! If you read TWW, LO was practically silent for the first few chapters.

Now they ceremony is done and she's married and already v attached and brainwashed.

How to keep up with the story!

Comment on this masterlist that you want to be tagged and I'll tag you in updates (If you ask to be tagged, I ask you at least like the fic. Likes dont do anything to spread the work, but it at least lets me know you're still reading.)

Follow @romana-updates and/turn on notifications

Follow the tag Rooms on fire

@hon3yboy @winniethewife @femmeanonymelives @yorksgirl @pockcock @neverwheremoonchild @casa-boiardi @meveispunk @survivingandenduring @criticalarchitecture @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @obscurexsorrows @hellfire-state-of-mind @christinamadsen @pimosworld @princessanglophile @rubyfruitjungle @simple-lovebot @missdictatorme @campingwiththecharmings @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @javier-penas-wifexx420 @stefani-topaz @alwaysmicado@mjnomaryjane @incorrectclassicbookquotes @axshadows @ghostslillady @movievillainess721 @justagalwhowrites @charethcutestory02 @pixielou5 @gogh-with-the-flow @justafandomgvrl @katw474 @loveable-liar @arrozconpepitoria @minigirl87 @runa-falls @pedge-page @angel-of-the-moons @beefrobeefcal @pixielou5 @miraclesabound @oliveksmoked @mjnomaryjane @bubble-pop-eclectic @corazondebeskar-reads @charethcutestory02 @pedroshotwifey

If I forgot someone or you'd like to be added/removed LMK!

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welldonekhushi · 6 months

Text

Call of Duty OC: Katya Kovalevskaya 🌹

An updated bio sheet of Katya! The last one felt like it was straight Wiki format style, but doesn't really explain her character properly, I also added some changes to her character as well so, here you go! <3

GENERAL:

Name: Katya

Full name: Yekaterina Viktornovna Kovalevskaya

Codename: "Katyusha"

Alias(es): Lady of Death (by the Red Army), Mama Katya (by her soldiers), Der Russische Leutnant (by the Germans)

Age: 32 years old (Call of Duty: World at War), 58 years old (Call of Duty: Black Ops), 70 years old (Black Ops: Cold War)

Gender: Female

Nationality: Russian

Languages spoken: Russian, German (for intelligence purposes), English

Date of birth: June 15, 1916

Place of Birth: Ural Mountains, Imperial Russia

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Martial Status: Single

Occupation: Senior Lieutenant and Sniper of the Red Army (retires after the events of the first Black Ops)

Status: Active

Rank: Senior Lieutenant (1942), Lieutenant Colonel (1945)

Affiliation: Red Army, CIA (briefly)

Universe: Call of Duty: World at War, Call of Duty: Black Ops, Black Ops: Cold War (alternative AU)

Faceclaim: Anna Chipovskaya

Song: "Katyusha" by Boris Alexandrov

youtube

Biography: Yekaterina, commonly known as Katya joins the Red Army for the service of the Soviet Union to avenge her parents death under the hands of German forces. While defending her country amidst the raging Second World War, she faces tremendous amounts of obstacles and barriers in her life which often try to make them as her weakness, but the woman was sworn to take her last breath in achieving one goal with her comrades — and that was liberating Berlin.

AFFILIATIONS:

3rd Shock Army (Red Army)

Sergeant Viktor Reznov [K.I.A]

Private Dimitri Petrenko [K.I.A]

Private Chernov [K.I.A]

Commissar Markhov [fate unknown]

Major General Nikita Dragovich [K.I.A]

Colonel Lev Kravchenko [fate unknown]

CIA (Call of Duty: Black Ops)

Alex Mason

Frank Woods

Jason Hudson

Grigori Weaver

SKILLS AND ABILITIES:

Weapon induced: Scoped Mosin-Nagant, Tokarev (TT-33), PPSh-41, Molotov Cocktail, RGD-33

Fighting style: Hand-to-hand combat, but rarely, since she's more used to being a sniper giving covering fire

Special skills: Is a very experienced sniper, that gave her the infamous name of "Lady of Death", but Katya didn't want to coin such a name for herself when she was only serving her people as a soldier of the frontlines.

Talents: Knows natural remedies, holds a lot of empathy for others, can speak fluent German even if she knows a little bit of it

Shortcomings: Due to the incident, she lost her face partially along with the half-vision of her eye throughout the accident, faces survivors guilt, is a bit mentally depressed but she's able to push those negative thoughts down

PERSONALITY:

Myers-Briggs Type: ISFJ (The Defender)

Is very protective towards her comrades: Ever since she lost her parents, Katya had always been searching for a way to cope up with her loss by taking care of the people she loves and believes in the most. Even if she never married, or birthed a child, she automatically unlocked her motherly instincts by calling her comrades as her "sons and daughters", considering them as her one, found family.

Ruthless, but at times merciful: Katya has shown immense strength and courage in the battlefield as a sniper and a squad leader, haunting the Germans in their own sleep thinking Katya wouldn't kill them and make the mattress they're sleeping on as their deathbed. But also, when Katya wants to show mercy, she'll show it. She thinks there's no use to wasting her own bullets on someone who already decided to surrender to the Red Army.

Emotional: Let it be a soldier dying, or a civilian, she'll ask forgiveness from God that she wasn't able to save an innocent despite having the duty to protect her own people. The incident that killed all of her soldiers left her deeply scarred, and believed she committed a bigger sin for being too naive and careless, and she deserved the impact on her face. It was even worse when Nikita Dragovich killed her teammates again by putting them as test subjects for the Nova 6 experiment that made her grow deranged and bloodthirsty to hunt Dragovich and his lapdog, Kravchenko in a fit of vengeance, until the CIA caught her presence.

Intelligent and observant: Katya is more aware of her surroundings ever since the incident impacted her, which caused her to be very vigilant, and grew her intelligence in the battlefield which made her useful for the Red Army as a sniper and as a squad leader in the infantry.

BACKGROUND STORY

Katya was born around 1916 with her mother Elizaveta Kovalevskaya (neé Petrova) and father, Viktor Kovalevsky. Spending her childhood in the Ural Mountains, she learnt how to snipe at a young age from her father, who was a hunter, the reason why she took her father's skill in the field of sniping.

In 1939, she recruited herself in the Red Army as a sniper, in which her talent gave a huge role and reputation among the soldiers as a source of bravery, courage and inspiration, that gave her the name "Lady of Death". But, Katya on the other hand didn't want to coin such a name for herself when she believes she's only doing it for the protection of her own people.

But, in 1941, when Germany attacked Soviet Russia under "Operation Barbarossa", her village became a victim of the attacks, which ended up killing her family in the process. Broken and enraged, Katya wanted to avenge her parents death by going through missions and eliminating every single enemy who tried to cross the Soviet borders. Her life completely changed when one day she encountered General Heinrich Amsel, who was responsible for the death of her family along with many others, wanted to kill him by her own hands but never succeeded because he evaded before she could get to him.

Furious, the General wanted to eliminate Katya in her path, by luring her into a trap that he was staying at a hotel and could grab her an opportunity to end his life there. But little to her knowledge, it was all a set up, when he used that entire building as a decoy with the explosives attached. His soldiers locked away his teammates, including Katya but she was able to break through it. In a desperate attempt to find her comrades who were still locked inside, it was too late before the explosion could take effect, and blew her out of the building, leaving her drastically injured.

The explosion was the turning point of her life, where it emotionally scarred her and made her regret being a soldier, when she couldn't even protect her own soldiers, who basked into the flames of Amsel's planned explosion. She was taken for medical assistance, which took her a month to recover physically, and mentally. But, that didn't stop Katya from retiring, as her mind still revolved around that one goal — to eliminate General Amsel, and push all the German forces back from invading Russia.

Somewhere around 1942, she was promoted to Senior Lieutenant, and became the squad leader for the 3rd Shock Army, and participated in the Battle of Stalingrad alongside Pvt. Dimitri Petrenko and Sgt. Viktor Reznov. As the General's whereabouts were found, she led her team throughout the warzone and successfully countered Amsel, which led to his untimely death under the hands of Dimitri's sniper rifle. Katya, who held immense pride for the Private for doing something she couldn't, made him along with Reznov and Chernov as her closest comrades.

After the entire battle, in 1945, they finally achieved victory by liberating Berlin by hoisting the Soviet flag on the Reichstag, Katya was now at peace, hoping for a better future after the war's end.

But, somehow.. her life was going to go into a bigger turmoil, when she gets sent to the mission around the Arctic Circle, leading the events of the first Black Ops.

#oc #oc story #oc biography #original character #ww2 oc #russian oc #red army #soviet union #cod #call of duty #cod waw #cod bo #call of duty world at war #call of duty black ops #call of duty oc #katya kovalevskaya #character profile #original character profile #oc profile

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maidragoste · 9 months

Note

anyway I have Daemon dadgirl planned because HBO robbed us 😤

Girl not only that, but also Daemon being a malewife and not with Rhaenyra, but with Laena his second wife.

In the books, unlike in the show, Daemon marries Laena without needing to ruin her reputation, but winning her hand by killing her drunk bethrothed.

Daemon marries her and they spend years travelling, HE WAS LOYAL AS HELL, HE LOOKED HAPPY AND CONTENT, and when the twins were born, Daemon brought them and Laena at court and BEGGED to his brother who was angry for his second marriage, to legitimate his daughters.

The rouge prince. The PROUD ROUGE PRINCE PLEADED TO HIS BROTHER FOR HIS OWN FAMILY TO BE RECOGNIZED.

These moments of humanity that demonstrate Daemon can be decent were cut off in favour of Daemyra or Daemon hate(look he's not my fave as well butttt me and some fans that don't love Daemon are there like: "why? With these few moments they will make him a morally grey character)

Writers were spurred by Daemon hate or racism😑(Laena and Elia get behind me! Also you too Nettles) and they say Laena and Daemon's relationship wasn't as passionate as Daemyra.

***

If you make the twins Baela and Rhaena sea dragon's daughters, I can see Rhaena being so insecure because her egg didn't hatch, believing she's a bastard, plus Daemon is being a negligent ass and sea dragon! Reader is there for blood.

Because baby is aware how it feels being judged.

Sea!dragon reader(her faceclaim is so beautiful *holds her gently*) was considered less Targaryen, especially by the good king misogynistic Jaehaerys, because of her black hair and dark purple eyes.

Then her egg, gifted by king Viserys to mend he and Rhaenys' relationship, hatched and it was the best day of her life.

Laena, PLS, let her live, let her have children! And not with Harwin but with a velaryon! cousin, then we have Laenor is living the best life and be like to his father:

"No need for me to marry father😉"

Laenor is the rich and "single" uncle that everyone loves.

Rhaenyra and Harwin marry and have the strong boys🤭 and she and Alicent makes up after a while.

I KNOW GIRL, I WILL NEVER FORGIVE THE SHOW FOR HOW THEY RETRACTED DAEMON AND LAENA'S RELATIONSHIP 😫

I totally agree with you, those moments of Daemon with his family showed his humanity and I HATE that the show didn't include that.

I'm not POC so the truth is at first I didn't realize the racism in the show until I started reading analysis and everything changed for me. I honestly don't understand the point of making the Velaryon POC and then treating them like this

Now talking about Rhaena as the daughter of Daemon and Sea Dragon

Nooo baby Rhaena thinking she's a bastard because her egg didn't hatch 😭 Sea Dragon would be heartbroken to see her baby so insecure 🥺

Sea Dragon barely sees any sign of Daemon being negligent towards Rhaena and is ready to put an end to it. She is not going to tolerate her daughter being treated differently for not having a dragon.

I can see Jaehaerys treating Sea Dragon differently but at the same time it seems strange to me because her mother was also a Velaryon so perhaps it would make more sense for him to treat her differently because she is the daughter of Rhaenys and not Viserys. Like I can see the little Sea Dragon struggling to get Jaehaerys' attention while Rhaenyra doesn't even have to try.

Now I imagine Daemon and Sea Dragon roasting Jaehaerys while drinking wine lol

It had never occurred to me about Viserys giving a dragon egg to Sea Dragon but now that you mention it I LOVE IT.

I plan for Laena to have children and they will not be with Harwin. Still I can't promise if she will live and Rhaenyra will marry Harwin instead of Laenor. Sorry but for now I plan to continue having war hahaha

but who knows maybe later I'll change my mind and if I do everything fluff and happy

Thank you for writing to me and I hope you are well 🥰🥰💖

#lu speaks #hotd #daemon targaryen #laena velaryon #rhaena targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #hotd x you #daemon's wife!au!#thanks for the ask!#ask me anything #send asks #send me asks #inbox open #inbox #sea dragon!reader

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boroughshq · 1 month

Text

Greetings! I've finally made some much needed updates to the rules. The majority of these updates are just administrative policies that were not explicitly stated before, with the major changes coming in the form of our diversity and character limit rules. These changes should hopefully encourage and promote the use of more diverse FCs, as well as help prevent inconsistent activity when picking up multiple muses. Please make sure to read the updates below carefully!

ACTION REQUIRED: Members, please like this post after reading. Thank you!

ACTIVITY CHECKS: Activity checks will be held every week. To meet activity, writers must post at least three (3) in-character interactions with two (2) different muns. Writers who have not met activity within the last 7 DAYS prior to the check will be given 48 hours to resume interactions. Failure to do so will result in an unfollow. Writers who are placed on consistent activity checks (3+) may also be subjected to an unfollow. Writers who have consistently been activity checked out of the group (5+) may also be subjected to denial of re-entry into the group.

FC CHANGES: There is currently no limit to the amount of times writers can request a change for the FC of their muses. If a FC change from a white FC to a FC of color is made, the writer will not be allowed to request a subsequent change back to a white FC. We ask that writers be mindful of their requests to ensure each change is in the service of their character. Should an admin feel like a writer is abusing this freedom, they are allowed to restrict the number of additional FC changes a writer can make. DIVERSITY: Every second character must be represented by a faceclaim of color. Please note that white latines (individuals of primarily Spanish or Portuguese descent, such as Pedro Pascal, Ana De Armas, and Chay Suede) are not people of color, and cannot be used to satisfy this requirement. Please make sure to do proper research and keep the ethnicity of your muse in mind when developing them. We also highly encourage the use of age diverse, body diverse, gender diverse, and ability diverse muses! Additionally, if you are writing a trans character, we highly encourage you to consider using a trans faceclaim when portraying these characters. Here is a link to a wonderful directory with over 200+ faceclaims to browse through! CHARACTER LIMIT: The character limit is currently set at 6 muses. Muns are allowed to apply for up to 2 muses upon first joining the group. After this, players must wait one week between each additional character they pick up. Please only pick up characters if you have the time to be consistently active on them. The admins reserve the right to deny applications should there be signs of inconsistent activity. Should the admins notice that members are not maintaining consistent activity across their muses, members may be asked to drop characters to help better their focus. Additionally, members must adhere to the following rules when picking up new characters: -If neither one of your first two characters are BIPOCs (black or indigenous people of color) or dark-skinned, your third character must be. -If none of your first three characters fulfill a listed wanted connection, your fourth character must. -If none of your first four characters are aged 40+, your fifth character must be. -If none of your first five characters are gender diverse, your sixth character must be. Additionally, if only one of your first five characters are a BIPOC or dark-skinned, your sixth character must be as well. This rule was instated on AUGUST 21, 2024, and is not retroactively implemented. Members who have applied for multiple characters prior to this rule will not be expected to change their current characters, but will be expected to adhere to these rules in listed order for each of their subsequent additional characters.

Admin Note: As a woman of color, it’s important to me that we do not have a group of majority white-passing FCs. New York is known as a melting pot, full of different cultures, colors, and ethnicities, and our characters should reflect that. This rule has been specifically adjusted to prevent writers from skirting past the POC rule by only picking up light-skinned and white-passing FCs, and to hopefully encourage diversity and the use of more FCOCs with a wider range of complexions. If you need some help finding new FCs, here are a couple of directories with a ton of beautiful FCs of color to choose from: black faceclaims, indigenous faceclaims, south asian faceclaims.

BLOGS: For your first character, you must submit a main account specifically dedicated to this group. After that, every new character can use a sideblog associated with that main account, or you can make your main account a mumu blog. If writers are using mumu blogs, please make sure to include the names of each of your characters in a pinned post or in the blog’s description. MAJOR PLOTS: Please make sure to run any major plot developments past the admin first. These plots include, but are not limited to: pregnancy, marriage, major injuries, death. LEAVING: If you would like to leave BHQ, please send a message to the main requesting an unfollow. No questions will be asked, no reason needs to be provided. It is simply a courtesy requested by the admins that you at least give the grace of a warning before suddenly deactivating or revamping your account for another rp. Thank you.

And, this rule did not change, but is included here as a reminder, since it is perpetually broken:

STARTERS: Please be sure to respond to at least 2 open starters before posting your own starter. This includes before posting closed starters, and this rule does apply to new characters, too.

Admin Note: To reiterate, new characters are not allowed to post any starters (closed or open) until they've responded to at least 2 open starters FIRST. It's important that we are showing love to the open starters in the tag. "What if there's no new starters?" There are always open starters available on the bhqextra's starter reel in need of replies. Just because a starter is a week old does not mean it does not deserve replies, especially if it barely has any to begin with. So long as the mun has not capped or closed the starter themselves, it is still open for replies and available for you to respond to. Please make sure we are replying to at least 2 open starters before posting ANY new starter when we bring in new characters.

And that's all! None of these changes are targeted at any one individual, but rather are a result of multiple patterns I've noticed over the many months of operating BHQ.

Members, please remember to like this post to signify that you've read the updates. Thank you!

#boroughs.announcement #boroughs.update #to recap: using bipoc as fcs is very demure #lets be mindful of the number of muses we can handle #its very cutesy to reply to open starters #<333

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nightingale2004 · 2 months

Text

The Marauders next gen: Wolfstar version (Sirius x Remus)

Artemis Hope Lupin

Faceclaim: Diana Silver

Artemis is the firstborn daughter of Remus Lupin and Sirius Black

Her middle name was the name Remus's late mother

Looks a bit like both her dads but takes after more of Sirius's looks and personality

She is fiercely protective of her family

Attends Hogwarts

Gryffindor through and through

Raging bisexual

Quidditch player (beater and chaser)

Inherited Sirius's love for pranks and loves brainstorming with the weasley twins

After Sirius got locked up to Azkaban, Artemis felt like she had to take care of everything, and everyone in her family and be the adult but still a great big sister

Loves going to music record stores and just loves music in general (more specifically, Rock n roll 🤟)

Her patronus is a husky dog

Her favorite subjects are flying, charms, DADA, care for magical creatures, muggle studies, and transfiguration

Doesn't know a lot about Sirius's side of the family other than what she was told and what she has found out about them (she is very nosy and has dug around for information about them)

Has an interest in auto mechanics and engineering

She wears Sirius's old leather jacket

Likes chocolate but prefers sour candy

She is also an animagus, and her form is a husky dog, similar to her patronus

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Caelum Alphard Lupin

Faceclaim: Felix Mallard

The second child and the first son of Remus Lupin and Sirius Black

His middle name came from Sirius's late uncle, Alphard Black

Sirius and Remus got married a year after they graduated from Hogwarts and had their children shortly after

Caelum is more like Remus but takes after Sirius in looks

Caelum is considered quiet, distant, and intelligent. He also considers himself an artistic soul

If you were to ask Caelum, he'd say Athena was the Sun, and he was the moon

When Sirius was sent to Azkaban, Caelum was only 1 year old, while Lyra was 4.

He vaguely remembered the Potters, but what he did remember was that both his dads loved them and that they would take Caelum and his sister over to the Potters all the time

He is sorted into Slytherin when the hat senses his determination, ambition, and cleverness. He was almost put into Gryffindor, but the hat changed its mind

He is on the quidditch team as a seeker but is not as passionate about it as his older sister

When he was sorted into Slytherin, his sister was worried for him along with their father, but Remus still loved his son but at the same time was afraid of what he would turn into in Slytherin

He is a major choco-holic (prefers dark chocolate)

His patronus is a raven

He also has an animagus form, which is a cat

He once snuck out to Grimmauld place out of curiosity of Sirius's side of the family. And he found out a LOT of information about the Blacks and his late Uncle Regulus and how similar he was to his uncle Regulus in some ways

☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆

Cerys Nova Lupin

Faceclaim: Bailey Bass

Cerys is the adopted daughter of Remus Lupin and Sirius Black

They both adopted her a year before Sirius went to Azkaban, so Nova doesn't remember much of her other dad

Before she was adopted, she was born to a werewolf couple who were formerly a part of Fenrir Greyback's pack who gave her up for her safety

After Sirius went to Azkaban, Remus wasn't present as much, and Artemis took charge at a young age. Taking care of her younger siblings and her own father

She is literally the sweetest person you'll ever meet. A literal cinnamon roll that needs to be protected, but she can she won't hesitate to fight you if you speak badly about her family

Loyal to a fault

Loves gardening and sweets

Loves milk and white chocolate

Sorted into Hufflepuff

She is the second werewolf in her family, while her older siblings are full wizards.

She loves it when her siblings turn into their animagus form during full moons. It makes her feel less lonely

Sees Harry like an older brother.

Severus has a soft spot for this young wolf (how can you not?)

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rpdepartment · 2 years

Text

ROLEPLAYING GLOSSARY

new words might be hard to understand right away if you’re new... here’s some basic glossary to help getting started! some are more obvious than others, of course, but i know lots of people who might be confused, especially people who don’t speak english as their first language, so i figured it’s better to write down any “important” words

this list might be updated every now and then!!!

activity: the abount of time spent on a specific blog. it can be high, medium, low, or even lead to hiatus or semi-hiatus

affiliates: blog canons who tend to be tied together

archived: an archived blog is what remains of a blog no longer used, but that the player prefers not to delete. The blog might’ve been remade, so always check!

AU: alternate universe, when the story setting changes completely.

canon-divergent: a blog that follows canon only to a certain extent, making significant enough changes to distance itself from the original version of the character

crack: silly posts, more often than not out of character, meta and meant to be jokes. crack intreactions are generally considered non-canon for the blog

dash commentary: in-character comments about what’s currently happening on dash, like other characters’ thread or replies to asks

DNI: do not interact; a list of people or blogs you don’t want to interact with, for a reason or another

double: people who play as the same character

event: a roleplay event is, for lack of better terms, an event that lasts for a generally specified amount of time, that involves a handful of characters to the whole dash. examples of events could be working together to save someone from another muse, or simply partecipating to a holiday ball

exclusive: a blog who doesn’t roleplay or ship with doubles of certain muses, since they already have mains who play them.

FC: faceclaim, the face used to represend a character, usually OCs

godmodding: any form of cheating to win an argument or a fight, usually involving metagaming or ignoring the partner’s actions to succeed. an example of godmodding could be the good ol’ “it’s an hologram” thread

hard block: blocking someone permanently

hiatus: a blog on hiatus means that the player isn’t going to be around for a long amount of time, generally unspecified

HUB: when someone makes secondary blogs to roleplay with, they usually keep their primary blog (the one they use to follow others) as a HUB where they can redirect others to all their other blogs

IC: in character; what your character says

icon: small images used to represend your characters’ expressions

interest checker: a post, or a google sheet, people ask to like, comment or fill up to see if they’re interested interacting with a certain character or blog.

magic anon: anons of bygone eras, who cast “spells” on muses in their askbox for a specified amount of time. for example, a magic anon could “transform” your character into a cat for a week, and expects you to roleplay the situation accordingly

main: a RP partner with who the player interacts with more often; some mains can be or become exclusives

meta: metagaming, playing in character using knowledge the characters themselves don’t know, but the player do. it’s the RP equivalent of knowing how to deal with a boss in a game because you watched a walkthrough, making your character break the fourth wall and godmod to win

moved: a blog that was remade, usually either reusing the same URL or keeping a post with a link to the remade blog, leaving behind an archived blog

muse: the character you play as

musing: sentences, prose or lyrics, often written in stylistic manners, that represent the muse’s feelings, thoughts, relationships and history ( you can find a lot of them here )

mun: the player. this is you!!!

mutual: someone you follow, and who follows you back. a lot of blog are mutuals-only, meaning they’ll roleplay only with people they follow and who follows them back

OOC: out of character; when the mun talks. the opposite of IC

para/multipara: long threads, written in paragraphs

permanent starter call: generally speaking, permanent starter calls are posts the mun asks others to like or comment to make sure they’re “allowed” to send asks, interact, dashcomment or mention in other threads

promo: a post where the players promote their blog and their character, where they often give an idea of who the character they play as is, very basic rules and links to rules and about pages. please reblog those if you want to interact with them

prompt: also called ask memes or sentence starters, posts with a bunch of pre-made sentences used to break the ice and send as asks. they can be both in character and out of character ( you can find a lot of them here )

reblog karma: when someone reblogs a prompt, it’s common courtesy to send them something before reblogging the same prompt, or at least wait a few minutes and then reblog from the source

RP: roleplay

RPC: roleplay community, the “main” fandom you’re roleplaying with

rules password: a word or sentence left in the rules page of a blog, meant to be sent to prove the mun you read their rules. while the trend died down and even those who leave passwords generally agree that it isn’t something you’re forced to send, a lot of people at least notify their partner that they read their rules

semi-hiatus: a blog on hiatus means that the player isn’t going to be around very often for a long amount of time, generally unspecified

selectivity: depending on a mun’s selectivity, it means how open they are to play with new people, or non-mutuals. non-selective blogs are open to anyone to join, semi-selective blogs are much more reserved, being much more open to mutuals and people you know, while selective blogs are more often than not mutuals only and tend to have mains or even exclusive partners. someone being selective doesn’t mean they will never roleplay with you, and someone who’s non-selective isn’t automatically better than others. decide how selective you are with your blog based on nothing but your own comfort

softblock: blocking and unblocking someone in your follower list, not blocking them completely but still making sure they don’t follow you . A lot of mutuals-only blogs prefer to softblock people they don’t follow anymore

starter: the first post in a thread

starter call: a post muns ask others to generally like or comment if they want a starter for their muse. they usually have a specified limit

tag dump: the list of tags the mun uses in their blog, often to help people finding specific kind of threads (like ships and crack), or to make sure tumblr saves the most elaborate ones expect tumblr to not save them and remake the tag dump a few times

thread: the interactions between two (or more) muses

VC: voiceclaim, the voice used to represend a character

#roleplaying 101 #roleplay glossary

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arcielee · 8 months

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Interview With a Writer

Thank you so much @aemondtarqaryens for starting off Volume 2 of my Interview With a Writer series! This is my ongoing series of the talented souls on Tumblr and ao3, and their brilliant writing!

If there is a story you are interest in, I am open to requests! Just make sure to check out my criteria for stories considered for this.

Name: aemondtarqaryens

Story: Precious Delights

Paring: Maegor Targaryen x niece!Reader

WARNINGS: See each chapter for individual, more precise warnings. Written with/for a female reader, but other than purple eyes, there‘s no mention of her appearance.

What inspired the plot for Precious Delights?

Oh God, truth be told? It started with a request I received for Maegor x Reader smut where she's heavily pregnant with his child. And I'm just a sucker for my big tiddy daddy and gave it a shot.

Once the original Precious Delights was posted, people commented under it, asking for a part 2 where the baby is born. The whole series just developed from there on and the rest is history.

I just loved their dynamic in the first part I posted (it's based on the bath scene between Aemma and Viserys, because it was just fitting and I liked that scene in the series) and felt captivated to give the few people interested what they wanted.

Explain your interpretation of Maegor? What drives him? Why is he the way he is in the story?

Charlie Hunnam is my faceclaim for Maegor because someone (I'm not dropping names cough cough @fairysluna cough) planted that seed into my mind. Most people fancast him as Aegon I, but to me, Henry Cavil makes a better Aegon I (you know, let's just cast Henry as every ASOIAF character lmfao).

I always had the relationship of Daemon and the young Rhaenyra we see in the show in my mind while writing this story. And we learn in Innate Desires that Maegor has lusted after his niece for quite some time, and even asked Aenys to give him her hand in marriage. He was denied, and searched his luck (or power) elsewhere, but failed with his wives dying without giving him an heir.

This is something that drives him, too. The need to provide an heir with his blood, that will take the Throne after him.

Canon!Maegor is one kind of a man, and while I find him intriguing, I firstly know that I could never do him justice and secondly, it just wouldn't have fit the story and it's overall development. Plus, having had a soft spot for his niece for so long, it's clear he's not always the brute he is towards her. He's softer, and allows her to catch some rare glimpses of his vulnerability as their relationship develops.

Was there anything in specific that inspired your Reader portrayal?

No, I feel like it‘s very self indulgent. Usually, the reader portrayals are matching their respective role (or I try to make it that way, at least) and with Targcest, I feel like you do have a bit more freedom to indulge. Just a freedom to be cheeky, or disobey certain rules.

Do you feel they eventually come to complement one another?

They complement each other. Maegor gives her something she‘s craved for so long, stability, family, attention, and Reader takes piece after piece of the brute out of him. Just like their children. They‘re not changing him completely, but they have a positive impact on him. She basically made the rogue brute soft and tender. 🤭

Will you add into their story?

Depends, if I really get another idea for this series maybe, but most likely not. It has found a good end, and everything else would be just dragging it out.

Do you want to share about another upcoming WIP? I know you finished celebrating a milestone for your blog (congratulations 💖).

Thank you!! I‘m currently working on the last two requests for my celebration, a one shot with Aemond and servant!Reader for a writing challenge I participated in, and a one shot of an American Horror Story x HOTD crossover where Aemond is the Antichrist.

Any chance we can have a snippet for Aemond!Antichrist? 👀

Easing your trembling legs, you hold onto the desk for support. It feels like an eternity when you crouch forward slightly to steady your uneven breathing, the moment only breaking as Aemond advances towards you, his body leaning against yours and pressing you up against the desk. It’s the only thing keeping you upright, and the moment you feel his hot breath caress your neck, your legs feel like they are about to give in. His thigh slips between yours, but you can’t feel his hands on your body, assuming he’s clasped them behind his back or keeps them at his sides. But you can tell that his chest isn’t the only firm thing that presses against your body. His cock is rock hard, clearly finding as much pleasure in the situation than you do, and all but strains against your lower back. He is so close, that’s all you’ve thought of for the past days, yet it’s not enough. You need his hands, him, to feel thoroughly satisfied. The urge to whine scratches in your throat, but you manage to swallow it at the last moment. “Beg for me to touch you,” he drawls, voice laced with a mixture of excitement and hunger. Exhaling a strained breath, you close your eyes. “P-Please,” you whimper, barely loud enough for him to hear. “Please… touch me. It’s been so long.” “Hm.” You hear it loud and clear, the amusement, the satisfaction, causing your skin to heat up. “That’s all you’ve got?”

#interview with a writer #iwaw21 #bts #of their brilliant writing #writing community #maegor x reader

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changbunnies · 9 months

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All About You (18+)

♡ Pairing: Royal Knight/Bodyguard!Minho x Princess!Reader

♡ Genre: age gap, royal au, historical au, arranged marriage au (reader only), angst, kind of forbidden love? (maybe more than kind of), basically porn with plot

♡ Word Count: 7.5k

♡ Summary: You, the princess who ran away from the castle after finding out your father, the king, has finalized your arranged marriage. Minho, your royal knight and glorified bodyguard, tasked with bringing you back home at all costs. When found, you hit Minho with a very interesting proposition- for him to be the one you share all your "firsts" with, instead of your inevitable husband.

♡ Warnings: age gap !! reader is ~23 while minho is in his 40s, please don't read if this makes you uncomfortable!, uneven power dynamics, outdated traditions and views on women to suit the setting, brief reference to death by guillotine and death in general, mentions of injury and swordfighting

♡ Smut Warnings (contains spoilers): lowkey corruption kink, loss of virginity (reader), pet names (princess (mostly as a title), good girl), slight sub + dom dynamics, soft dom minho, a lot of kissing (should be expected from me atp), nipple play, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), slight overstim, unprotected piv, multiple orgasms, creampie

♡ Notes: at this point i am determined to write a royal au fic for every member, and my newest offering to you is minho <3 i was literally possessed writing this like once the idea hit my brain i had to get it out asap

Fuck. Minho was absolutely fucked.

In recent years, he had one job, and one job only, and that was to take care of the princess. Make sure she’s safe, escort her to where she needs to be and watch over her at all times– that’s all. Not always an easy job, but one of vital importance that Minho took with utmost seriousness. In the 3 years it’s been since becoming your royal knight and glorified bodyguard, he never messed up this critically.

You always had a rebellious streak and challenged authority, everyone in the castle knew that. And part of Minho’s job, apart from keeping you safe, was keeping you in check– and the king made it extremely clear that failing to do so was not an option.

He lost track of the amount of times he uttered the words “Princess, please think rationally,” or “please consider your responsibility to the kingdom, don’t do this,” in a near desperate attempt to get you to listen to reason.

And today, he fucked up the worst he ever had. He knew you were upset tonight, but he was under the impression he successfully calmed you down, and that you wouldn’t do anything rash. He turned his back to you, thinking the storm had been quelled, and that you’d listen to your father, even if doing so felt like pulling teeth. He underestimated however, just how deep your sadness and anger truly ran, and the very moment you saw an opening, you took it.

You fled from the castle with blind determination, nowhere to go and with little of value in your hands, fueled purely by the desire to escape your unfair circumstances, and live your own life by your own means. You may not believe it, but Minho understood, and felt for you– he really did. But that didn’t change what his duty was, and even if it made you hate him, he had to do his job to the best of his ability.

So now here he was, roaming the streets looking for you, the hours passing in a blur. You must’ve done a good job of concealing your identity, because no one he asked had seen a young woman matching the princess' description. And as the minutes ticked by, and sunset turned to midnight, he was at a complete loss of what to do.

He made record time combing the entire bustling town, stopping into places full to the brim with people in the hopes he’d catch a glimpse of you in the crowd, and yet there seemed to be no trace of you anywhere. It was easy for someone to hide their presence in a crowd, or in the rowdy environment of a tavern, and you were more than intelligent enough to blend into a crowd and divert attention away from yourself.

It was entirely possible that Minho had seen you at some point, and simply didn’t realize it, though he liked to believe he’d recognize you anywhere, no matter what you wore. Minho scowled, clenching his teeth as he scanned the dark horizon of the treeline; should he check the outer walls of the town for a clue, or double back and check the streets again?

He doubts you made it out of the town easily, considering you likely had no money on your person and little experience with the realities of the world. You were intelligent, yes, but sheltered; he could easily imagine you quickly getting in over your head, thinking you could make it to the next town without issue, only to end up lost and in need of help, with no one for miles to hear your desperate cries.

Fuck. If he couldn’t find you, his head would most certainly be meeting the cold steel of a guillotine. He had no family who would mourn his loss, but still, he wasn’t ready to face his mortality. And the king, despite being someone he could call a close friend, would spare no mercy if he failed to keep his one and only daughter safe.

But really, there was more to it than just the threat of death that kept him searching for you. Believe it or not, he genuinely wanted you safe and well, and he'd do anything to ensure you made it back home, even if it made you curse him for the rest of his days.

As if God himself heard his prayers and decided to grant him a miracle, Minho sees you– there, on the outskirts of town, holding your cold hands up to your face and letting your breath warm them. It’s dark, the street barely even illuminated enough to discern your recognizable features, but he knows without a doubt that it's you standing there in the cold street, because truly, he knows you anywhere.

By the time you realize you’ve been spotted and recognized, it’s already much too late to flee. Minho approached you with utmost haste, reaching out and grabbing your arm, lest you make the foolish decision to try to escape again. His hold, while not rough enough to hurt you, is firm, and it only takes one attempt at pulling your arm from his hold to know this is it; your escape attempt has failed, and you’ll be dragged back to the castle and reprimanded for your “temper tantrum.”

Your father never listens to you, no matter how hard you try to make him understand and see your point of view. Maybe if you were born a boy, your opinions would be important to him, and he’d see you are more than an object to pawn off to whatever man gave him the most political power.

“Princess–” “I’m not going home,” you interject before he even has a chance, though you already know it’s in vain. There is no avoiding returning to your glorified prison now that Sir Minho has you in his grasp.

He sighs, but his face changes to one of sympathy, his grip on your arm loosening ever so slightly. “Can we at least go to an inn room? It’s not safe for a young lady to be on the streets at night,” he reasons with you, as gently as he can manage.

Normally Minho is quite stern with you, but you get the impression that he feels being stern isn’t the right approach tonight. You’re known for expressing yourself very vocally, even when doing so is extremely ill-advised, and he is well aware of how opinionated and fiery you are.

But treating this display as anything other than a genuine act of desperation, a culmination of years of perceived disrespect and conformity, would be another critical error– one he can’t afford to make. So he will be firm, yes, but gentle in his approach.

You frown as you look at him; you’re stubborn by nature, and part of you wants to fight against him until the bitter end, but he’s not wrong about the streets being unsafe for you at night. You know he won’t let you escape again come morning, but that’ll have to be a problem for later; for right now, you really should heed his advice and go to an inn for the night.

“Fine,” you concede, much to Minho’s relief. He could’ve forced you to go with him if he really needed to, but he’d rather avoid doing something so unpleasant. He leads you to a nearby tavern, which is still bustling with activity even at the late hour.

He keeps you close as he pushes through the crowd of rowdy drunks to the dual innkeep-bartender, hoping that there is still a room available. The man departs, coming back with a key dangling in hand, “You’re in luck. Last room’s all yours.”

Minho thanks the man and pulls out his satchel to pay him, leaving a few extra coins as a tip before stashing it back in his pocket, along with the key he was given, and the two of you go up the stairs together.

“There’s only one bed,” you comment as you step inside the room, though Minho doesn’t seem to care much about that fact. “That’s fine, don’t plan on sleeping anyways,” he says as he removes his leather scabbard from his back, resting it against the back of the chair in the corner of the room.

You frown as you sit on the bed and watch him; he must’ve been in a hurry when he received word you fled from the castle, as he wasn’t wearing any of his armor, strictly in casual wear you’d very rarely seen him in. Probably for the best, you think, because if anyone saw a royal knight desperately searching the streets, multiple alarms would be raised.

He lights the fireplace, hoping to quickly spread some heat throughout the cold room, before he sits in the chair, crossing his arms and watching you carefully. Deserved, you suppose. How is he supposed to trust you’re not going to flee at the first available moment just as before?

You certainly don’t make his job easy for him; he can’t take his eyes off you for a second. The silence between you lingers for some time, the crackling of the fire the only sound either of you hear, apart from the muffled patrons enjoying their drinks downstairs. Minho, despite his relaxed posture, looks like he’d be ready to jump up at a moment's notice should he need to.

You sigh; should you just try to sleep? It’d feel awkward and uncomfortable to try to fall asleep with someone's eyes boring holes into you, but you really didn’t give him much of a choice. “Do you want to tell me why you ran away from the castle?” Minho asks suddenly, breaking the tempered silence between you. “You already know the answer to that,” you respond, crossing your own arms now.

“Is marrying Sir Jin really so bad?” he asks, and you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Yes, obviously. I don’t want to. Not that you or my father care about me or anything I think.”

Minho’s brow furrows, the frown on his face growing. “Princess, you know that’s not true. I do care about you.”

“Do you? I haven’t been able to tell in the slightest,” you counter a bit harshly, “and you could help me if you wanted to, you know. I’d be fine out there if I was with you.”

Okay, maybe you’re not being fair to Minho right now. You do know he cares, but realistically, what is he supposed to do? If he disobeyed your fathers orders, he’d be lucky if his only punishment was a swift death.

He was assigned to you because your father trusts him to do the right thing and follow orders dutifully, a trust that is usually not misplaced. But he has to admit, the more and more time he spends with you, the more he feels for you.

Minho never knew your father, the king, to be an unreasonable or cruel man, but in your eyes, he might as well be the devil himself. And maybe he is cruel– because how do you strip someone of their freedom and choices for your own gain, and not see the harm it causes, the wrong in it?

You are more than a pawn, more than a subject, more than his daughter– you are a person. A person with thoughts, feelings, and opinions as real as any mans, who did not deserve to be treated lesser than for the simple crime of being born a girl.

But what is Minho if not an upholder of the status quo? He was just a single man, and even if he recognized how unfairly you were treated in comparison to the golden child that was your elder brother, what was he supposed to do? He always performed his tasks dutifully and without question, and it wasn’t until he met you that he began to struggle with what he should do, and what he wants to do.

And maybe he could get you out of this town, help you live a quiet, modest life somewhere new, away from the watchful eye of your father. Where he could be your protector, same as now, but without the guilt, burden, or threats.

You know you shouldn’t take your frustrations about your life out on Minho, but he’s really all you have. You trust him with your life, and he’s shown you multiple times that he cares about you beyond the duty he has to you, or to your father. He's your only confidant, the only person in the world you can rely on.

Your eyes linger on the scar across his nose– he got it protecting you, the other man’s sword barely missing his eyes and cutting just across his face, and it was only one of many scars he obtained in his service to you. He’d pick you up and run with you in his arms when you were injured, he’d fight off attackers without breaking a sweat, sustain injury after injury all to make sure you were safe.

You’d watch his back, always stunned and mesmerized at the ease at which he cut down your enemies, as if they were nothing but paper. When he’d turn back to you, breathing heavy and sweat only just starting to trickle on his brow, his eyes would turn from the harshest winter chill to the gentle warmth of a spring morning.

He was quiet, stern, but his care ran far deeper than one would think just by looking at him, and all you had to do to see the true depth of his feelings was look in his eyes. So you knew it was unfair to accuse him of not caring about you, to expect him to go above and beyond for you, to ask that he go against your father to give you what you want. But you were just so sad, frustrated, angry, that you couldn’t stop yourself.

“Maybe you’ll grow to love him if you give him a chance,” Minho suggests; you both know that’s never going to happen, but what else can he say? He never married, and had no children, dedicated to his duty as he was; he had no real advice to offer someone when it came to love, romance, and the like, but he imagined it wasn’t impossible to fall in love if you just met Sir Jin with an open mind.

But as stated, that’s never going to happen. You’re stubborn to a fault, and once you’ve decided something, there’s no changing it. The best Minho can ever manage to do is get you to reconsider, but even then, you’re still likely to go about things the way you originally wanted to, with no regard for consequences or keeping up appearances. You’re a fiery woman, there was no doubt about it, and you don’t let go of things easily.

“The mere thought of giving that man all my firsts makes me sick, it’s vile,” you scrunch up your nose, making your distaste for the man very clear. Minho doesn’t even think you’ve actually met the man yet, but you’ve already decided you hate him– you don’t want to marry him, and so you’ll be firmly stuck in your opinion, no matter what anyone says.

“Maybe this isn’t advice I should be giving you, but.. You don’t necessarily have to. To give him your firsts, or love him. Find someone you do love, even if you have to keep it a secret, and hold him with all you’ve got. It still wouldn’t be ideal, of course, but.. Well, it’d be something, at least.” Really, Minho is supposed to encourage you to be an obedient daughter and listen to your father without question, but he knows you well enough to know that’s a fool's errand.

You’re never going to listen, never going to be obedient, never going to stop being opinionated. So what’s the next, most realistic piece of advice he can give? Lie, of course. Make your father and inevitable husband believe you’re a good, obedient wife and daughter, and then go live the life you really want behind their backs.

It's dishonest as all hell, and there would be consequences if you got caught, but if you’re going to be miserable no matter what you do, you might as well try, right? It’s what Minho thinks he would do if he were you, anyways.

“What about you?” you ask and Minho raises a brow in question. “What about me?” he asks, and what you respond with makes him feel like the air has been punched out of his lungs. “What if I gave my firsts to you?”

Did he hear you right? There must be some mistake with his ears, there’s absolutely no way you said what he thinks you did. “You– what?” Surely you can’t be serious about this. You’re the princess, and he’s just the man who happens to be your guard; a man who is your fathers age at that. But the way you look at him, he can tell you’re not joking in the slightest.

“Princess, I couldn’t possibly accept that,” Minho says sternly, his arms no longer crossed but instead resting on the arms of the chair, hands beginning to grip tightly so he can ground himself and try to make sense of this insane situation.

“Why not? I’d be happier if I gave it to someone like you. I trust you,” you say so nonchalantly it makes his head reel. What the fuck is happening right now?

And truly, Minho was the ideal man; at least in your opinion. He was handsome, mature, realistic and practical, knew how to reel you in without disregarding the root of what you feel or being disrespectful to you.

He never dismissed how you felt, made you feel over emotional or like a fool who overreacts; he’d ask you to see reason, sure, urge you to think more before acting, but he never, never made you feel like your feelings were invalid. And he genuinely cared about you, and you liked him, were attracted to him, so if the opportunity presented itself then.. Why not take the chance?

Fuck. Minho was absolutely fucked.

You were just freshly 20 when Minho first met you and became your guard, and hard as he tried to never see you beyond the platonic, he’s always viewed you as an attractive young woman. He liked your fiery spirit, liked how you had the bravery and gall to challenge authority, a skill that in recent months he felt he was sorely lacking. Your attitude was refreshing, and despite your circumstances, you never acted like a damsel in need of his help.

In a different life, in another world, maybe you two could have met as equals, not painfully stuck to the rules of an unfair, unforgiving reality. You’d be each other's foil; you, the impassioned dreamer with as many thoughts and ideas as there were stars in the sky, and he the realist, who didn’t dim your light but tempered it into a steady, sustainable flame.

You’d take him out on adventures, out of the strict box of his comfort zone, and he’d ground you more firmly to reality, never discouraging your dreams but making sure you took the necessary steps in the right way, responsibly. You'd match one another perfectly, complementary and meant for each other.

But that’s not your reality, and you both know it. There would never be any coming back from this if you go through with it, and there’s no ideal, happy future for you two to share. “I’m not so disillusioned to think this would be anything other than sex for you,” you continue, and he swallows, mind still racing impossibly, “but it’d be much more meaningful for me with you than some bastard I don’t like in the slightest.”

You’re wrong. So wrong, and you don’t even know it. It would never be “just sex” with you. You mean much, much more to him than you even realize. “You won’t regret asking a man like me? There’d be no taking it back once it’s done,” Minho can’t help but ask, rationality and reason desperately trying to gain control.

Despite what your father may believe, you’re a grown woman capable of making your own decisions. And this is a decision you make with full knowledge of what it means for you, more than willing to accept whatever consequences may arise for committing such a sin.

In an ideal world, you’d be allowed to love who you wish, live where you wish, do what you wish. But this isn’t an ideal world, and if there is only one thing you can ever be granted in this life that feels as if it isn’t even your own, it would be this– to have one night, just one night, where you can be the person you want to be, with Minho by your side.

“You’re free to reject me if you’re not attracted to me, but.. My only regret would have been not trying. So I ask, are you not attracted to me?” He looks you over carefully following your question, grip on the armrests tightening.

Admitting that he’s attracted to you may as well be a death sentence. But he can’t lie to you, completely at your mercy. Fuck the king, it’s you he’s really loyal to. All he’s ever done, all he ever will do, it’s always for you. He’s always tried to act in your best interest, to do the right thing, to keep you safe and protected. But does keeping you safe even matter if you’re miserable?

“I am,” Minho swallows, answering honestly despite his better judgment, “You have no idea how attracted to you I am.”

“So why hesitate?” you ask, fingers trail down your lap, over your knees, to where the very bottom of your dress lies. He watches you, eyes darting from your hands back to your face. You’re watching him too, carefully, considering his every reaction before you make your next move, impressively calculated.

You take the hem of your dress in your hands, pulling it up leisurely, getting it halfway up your thighs before Minho rises from his chair. He's is in front of you in an instant, his hands grabbing your wrists and stopping you from lifting it any further.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Princess,” he breathes, voice low and strained; he can’t lose control of his desires, but fuck, you’re making it so hard. You look up at him, meeting his gaze with the same fiery determination you always have, but there’s more there than just that this time. Desire, want, need– all for him.

Fuck it. He’s going to get burned, but maybe it’s worth it. You’ll be his funeral pyre, engulfing him in your flame until all that remains are the ashes of the man he was supposed to be. And what a beautiful way to end his life it will be, lost between your thighs, feeling your nails dig and claw at his skin.

He lets go of your wrists, one of his hands coming to cup your face, thumb tracing over your bottom lip. “Has anyone ever kissed you, Princess?” he asks and you give a slight shake of the head, breathing a soft “No..”

He hums, and there’s a twisted sort of pleasure he derives from knowing he’ll be your first in every conceivable way. You’re not “innocent,” he knows you’re not, but there’s something about being your first kiss, your first cock, your first everything that makes him crazy.

“And you want me to be the first one to kiss you?” he follows up with another question, corners of his mouth threatening to twist into a smile when you nod, a soft, honest “yes” leaving your lips effortlessly. He leans down towards you, keeping your head tilted up so he can easily meet your lips.

He does so softly, treating you with care. His lips are softer than you expected, and the feeling of them against your own fills you with butterflies. He carefully tilts you back, and you let your body fall back onto the mattress, head hitting the surprisingly soft pillows.

Minho crawls over you, spreading your legs apart just enough to get between them, your dress now hiked all the way up your thighs. He’s hovering over you, looking down at you with so much love and lust and that it leaves you speechless. “I’ll need you to listen to me tonight. Can you do that for me?” he asks, pressing light kisses to your jaw, under your ear, your neck.

You can, because it’s Minho. He’d never hurt you, never try to control you, never make you feel lesser than. So you can listen to him, because you trust him with your care; he’ll take good care of you, you know he will. He smiles when you nod, and you see him smile so rarely that it makes your heart skip a beat; his role always requires him to be so stern and straight faced, that seeing him smile down at you like this is enough to melt you into a puddle.

“You’re a good girl when you want to be, hmm?” he hums against your neck, resuming his trail of kisses against your skin, and you can’t explain why, but the words and tone he says them in makes your stomach flip.

If you were in a different world, and didn’t have to return home to the castle tomorrow, he’d take his time marking your neck, filling it with pretty shades of blue, purple, and red, sinking his teeth into your soft, supple skin. He just knows you’d look so pretty like that, and the way you react when his breath tickles your skin and his lips linger, tells him you’d like it too.

His fingers trail down your body, finding the hem of your dress and pulling it up over your chest. You lift your back off the bed when he separates from your neck, pulling your dress off the rest of the way and discarding it to the floor. He kisses you as he fiddles with the straps of your bra, effortlessly unhooking it in the back and pulling it down your arms and off your body.

He may have never married, but he’s no stranger to being with and pleasuring women. And he’ll make sure he makes this a night you’ll always remember for all the right reasons. Capturing your lips in another kiss, his hands take in your now bare breasts, gently kneading and squeezing.

You try to squeeze your legs together, but his place between your thighs stops the act from happening, and he chuckles against your lips when he realizes what you’re doing. “Be patient, Princess, I’ll take good care of you,” he whispers before kissing you again, and you let out a small whine, not knowing exactly what you want but knowing you want something.

You gasp when he takes your nipples between your fingers and pinches them, not too hard of course, but enough to give him the chance to slip his tongue into your mouth. Your body shudders, you feel dizzy with pleasure and excitement, and the feeling of his tongue circling yours is impossibly intoxicating.

One of his hands travels down, over your stomach, coming between your bodies to feel your heat over your panties. He’s barely even begun and you’re already soaking the fabric, your eager anticipation for more of his touch palpable beyond all else. He nips at your bottom lip, gently tugging it between his teeth before soothing the sting with kitten licks, his hand slipping inside your panties to feel how slick you’ve gotten directly.

Your body jolts when his fingers run between your folds, and he barely has to move them at all to get his fingers completely coated in your arousal. He pulls back to look at you, taking in the sight of your flushed face and swollen lips, pretty and perfect.

You’re panting, breathless, overwhelmed in the best way possible. You keen when his fingers rub over your clit in circles, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you lift your head from the pillows to watch. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” he asks, suppressing a grin when you whine and quickly nod your head.

“Want more, want you,” you mutter, the most timid you’ve ever been in regards to a man. He coos, giving you a sweet kiss as he continues his stimulation to your sensitive spot. “Remember what I said? Patience, Princess, you’ll get what you want. We can’t rush and have you getting hurt, can we?”

You pout as you concede, and God, he finds that so cute; he’s never seen you actually act shy and pouty before, and it makes him want to give you the entire world. He’ll give you everything you want, anything you ask for, but he’ll have to remember to tease you first so he can see that cute expression on your face before he gives in to your whims.

“I’ll make sure you’re nice and ready for my cock, so just be a good girl and follow my lead until then. You can do that for me easily, can’t you?”Another shy nod, another adorable flushed look that makes his cock throb in his trousers.

It was a little intimidating for you, knowing how experienced Minho must be due to his age, and feeling like you must fall short in comparison to other women– women who knew what they were doing. But really, that was just your own insecurity talking. He didn’t mind at all that you were inexperienced; in fact, it excited him for reasons he didn’t entirely understand.

Maybe it was the knowledge that he was the first to touch your skin, or maybe that someone as determined and fiery as you are is allowing yourself to concede control, to let him be in charge of your pleasure, trusting him to bring you to utmost bliss. What bigger display of trust could you ever show him? Your glassy, pleading eyes, begging him for more but still waiting for it just as he asked– you’re too good for him. He’s going to ruin you.

He takes his fingers away, and you have to physically stop yourself from whining at the lack of contact, lest he remind you again about “being patient.” “Open your mouth for me,” Minho requests, and though you are a bit confused, you do as he asks immediately, obeying without question.

Fuck, that’s hot; the image of you, mouth open, tongue slightly sticking out and waiting to receive whatever he gives you is something he never wants to forget. Minho slides two of his fingers into your mouth, instructing you to lick, to get his fingers nice and wet.

Truthfully, you were more than lubricated enough to take his fingers without this step, but he couldn’t resist the urge to see you this way. He pushes his fingers in your mouth down to the knuckle, and you persist with coating them in your saliva even as you gag and tears prick the corners of your eyes.

He showers you with praise, slipping his fingers out of your mouth when he feels satisfied with the work you’ve done on them, kissing your cheeks, feeling the heat of your face on his lips. Slipping his hand back inside your panties, he presses the tips of his wet fingers to your hole, and you instinctively suck in a breath, body unconsciously tensing from the anticipation.

“You have to relax, Princess, it won’t feel good if you’re tense,” he explains sweetly, shaking his head when you mutter a soft apology. “Don’t be sorry, not for that. Just focus on me, hmm? On this,” he whispers, his lips lingering on yours in a deep, impassioned kiss.

His fingers stay completely still until he feels your body start to release its tension, heeding his advice to focus more on his kisses than the motion of his fingers. He keeps kissing you even as the first of his fingers finally starts to push inside you, and you moan into his mouth, hot pleasure licking your skin.

He moves his finger in and out slowly, making sure you’re well adjusted before he pushes in another one, hooking his fingers to find that delicious sweet spot he knows will have you crying his name in no time. You gasp loudly when he finds it, your hands twisting the sheets beneath you between your fingers, your entire body trembling.

It feels so good you almost can’t breathe, and when he picks up his pace, hitting your spot over and over as he brings his thumb to your clit, you know you won’t last long at all. “M-Minho, I’m– 'm gonna–” you try to warn him, but the words die in your throat, the pleasure too overwhelming to continue to try and form a sentence.

He simply hums, continuing his motions until your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, sharp, shuddery gasps and moans tumbling from your lips as your orgasm takes you. “That’s it, just let go, just like that, I’ve got you,” he praises, pressing kisses to your hot skin, helping you ride out your high.

Before you can even fully recollect your breath and get your racing heart back under control, he’s pushing a third finger inside, the trembling in your body intensifying from the addition. “You need more to get ready for me,” he tells you, and in your fucked out state all you can do is nod, taking his word as gospel truth, “need to stretch you good to make sure my cock fits.”

All you can do is lay there and take the onslaught of pleasure, unable to think of about anything other than how full and good his fingers make you feel. You don’t even register that he’s moved your down your body and tugged your panties to the side until his tongue is meeting your clit, swirling around it in expertly practiced circles, making you desperately cry out his name.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging harshly as your hips buck up to keep feeling the delicious sensation his tongue provides you. He flattens his tongue and lets you grind against it as you want, the motions of his fingers not stuttering or ceasing despite the movement of your hips.

You feel the familiar heat pooling your stomach, another orgasm approaching quickly, the sounds you release turning into desperate whines and whimpers as you chase the feeling. It only takes a few more rolls of your hips and thrusts of his fingers to have you releasing all over his face and gushing around his fingers.

He sits up and pulls his fingers out when your body falls limp, chest heaving and ears ringing as you try to recover from the mind-blowing experience you just had. Your eyes are closed, and you can feel his weight shift, can hear the soft clink of his belt unbuckling, followed by the rustling of clothes.

You open your eyes to see Minho’s cock is now out, his hand lazily pumping it and spreading the pre-cum that accumulated and dripped over his time focusing on you. You reach a hand out to touch it, to replace his hand with your own, but he grabs your hand before you can, instead making you intertwine your fingers.

“Tonight’s all about you, Princess. Don’t worry about taking care of me,” he says, kissing the back of your hand and then holding it down right above your head. You’re not quite pinned, easily able to snake your hand out of his hold if you wanted to, but you have to admit, you like the feeling of his hand keeping yours held down.

He rubs his cock between your folds before he lines himself up with your entrance, though you didn’t miss the subtle smirk on his face when you whined from the feeling of his tip rubbing against your clit. “Squeeze my hand if you need to,” Minho tells you before taking your free hand and bringing it up to his shoulder, “and hold onto me.”

Your heart squeezes in your chest; the hidden romantic in you yearns to tell him you love him, to thank him for taking such good care of you, to express how you never want this night to end, but you know that would be a mistake. Neither of you can afford to let your emotions spill out, so you swallow them down the best you can, deciding to just live in this moment, to experience it for all that it is and all that it means for you.

The initial push is slow, and thanks to his diligent preparation, there is little physical pain or discomfort you experience from the stretch of his cock. A slight sting, sure, but nothing you can’t easily handle, and it’s barely even recognizable when compared to the pleasant fullness you feel. So when you squeeze his hand, and your eyes well with tears, it’s not because you are pained; it’s because you finally have something you want, a happiness you thought would forever elude you.

He takes his free hand and wipes away the tears from your eyes, a soft look of concern on his face. “Hurts?” he asks, but you shake your head quickly.

“Feels good, I just– I..” you struggle with the words, knowing you can’t express how you actually feel about him even if you felt you could. “I know. You don’t have to say it, I know,” Minho speaks to you softly, and the kiss he gives you very nearly makes you sob.

There’s still a few inches left before he’s fully inside you, and he pushes the remainder in slowly as he continues to kiss you, his free hand now rubbing soothing circles on your hip with his thumb. Minho does well at maintaining composure, staying firmly in control of himself and his body despite the way your walls squeeze and suck him in, despite the way you whimper when you feel him throb, or cry out against his lips when his tip kisses your deepest spots.

“That’s a good girl, taking all I give you, doing so well,” he praises you some more, and you love when he tells you how good you’re doing if the way you clench around him is any indicator. “Fuck, Princess–” he groans when he finally starts to move, pulling out and pressing back in much more slowly than he normally would, but the wet friction you provide him is delicious.

“Minho, I–” you start, interrupted by a sharp gasp when he finds your sweet spot with his cock.He looks at you as he stills his hips, patiently waiting for you to continue in case what you have to say is important, or a request for him to stop.

You swallow, face heating up but determined to get out what you want to say. “J-Just this once, I don’t want to be the princess. Call me by name, please–” Oh, that’s what you want? He can do that, easily; he’s already groaned your name countless times in the privacy of his room, stroking his cock to the thought of you.

The sound of your name falling from his lips as he resumes the thrust of his hips has you clenching hard, stars erupting in your vision as he picks up his pace, beginning to quickly and mercilessly hit your spot, over and over again. He takes one of your legs and props it up over his shoulder, allowing more of his cock to fill you up, the creaking of the bed and the sound of skin slapping beginning to overpower the noise from downstairs.

Taking his other hand away from yours, you’ll have to forgive him, he licks his fingers and then brings them to your clit, wanting nothing more than to see and feel you release on his cock. It only takes a few more thrusts and circles from his fingers to have you crying out his name as you cum, fingers digging into the sheets beneath you as your body shakes and legs tremble.

But Minho hasn’t cum yet, so he’s not quite done with you– not that you mind in the slightest. You’ll let him chase his pleasure as long as he wishes, even if it leaves you a drooling, fucked out mess in the end.

He pulls out of you, just long enough to sit against the headboard, and then he’s pulling you on top of him, guiding you to sink back down on his cock and sit fully in his lap. The new position has you rolling your eyes to the back of your head, Minho guiding the movement of your hips with his hands as he thrusts up into you.

He’s quite literally doing all the work, but that’s perfectly fine; this night is supposed to be about you, after all, and he doesn’t want you to lift a pretty little finger. Just let him use you a little until he cums, that’s all he needs.

You’re panting against his neck, head laid on his shoulder and nails digging into the skin of his back beneath his shoulder blades. The sting of your nails in his skin is just how he imagined it to be, and his head is falling back against the headboard, low grunts and groans of your name leaving freely as his cock throbs and twitches, getting closer and closer to his release.

He uses one of his hands to grab your face and lift it up to his, crashing his lips to yours in a desperate, impassioned display of love and lust. A few more snaps of his hips and you feel his cum spurting inside you in long, thick ropes, the sensation sending you forward into yet another orgasm of your own, your desperate sounds muffled only by Minho’s mouth on yours.

Your body collapses against his when the moment slows to a stop, both of your chests heaving and breaths heavy as you lie against him. His arms wrap around you snuggly, and keep you upright against his chest. You can hear the quick, erratic beating of his heart as he catches his breath, looking up at him to see his eyes closed and sweat trailing down his brow towards his cheek.

He looks beautiful like this, you think; you hope he thought the same of you. Even as his cock starts to soften, neither of you move, and though your legs protest and beg to be stretched out, you refuse to leave your spot on Minho’s lap.

“Are you alright, Princess?” he asks once he’s collected himself, pushing your hair from your face and wiping the sweat from your brow.

“Mhm, just want to stay like this,” you reply, and Minho smiles softly, rubbing over your shoulders and down your back in a sweet gesture of comfort. You’re silent like this for some time, just simply enjoying the feeling of him, the sound of the crackling fire, the warmth he and this room provides you.

“Does my happiness really have to end here?” you can’t help but quietly ask, and Minho is quiet for a moment, carefully considering before he speaks.

In a different world, in a different time, in a different place, maybe the two of you are meant to be. There’s comfort in imagining yourself there, truly happy with Minho, letting him care for you while not snuffing out the flame that is your pride, ambition, and spirit.

It’s not meant to be, you both know that to be true. To be with each other required great risk, sacrifice, hardship. But again he has to wonder, is being safe worth the cost of happiness? Would you even truly be “alive” if your every moment was spent miserably?

He doesn’t want to see the very core of what makes you you be snuffed out by selfish, idiotic men and their expectations of what you should be. You’re much younger than him, and it would be impossible for him to be there for you for the rest of your life, but he can be for the rest of his, at least.

“Maybe not,” he answers, unsure of what the future holds for the two of you, but not entirely ready to give up so easily. He could accept his fate, accept that love is something out of his reach, but it’s your happiness on the line that makes him want to fight for it.

There’s a lot he could lose by helping you escape this life you feel trapped in, but he’d rather see you happy than wasting your days away in the castle, subservient to a man you loathe. Your love isn’t meant to be, but that’s okay; he’ll help you all the same.

He’s loyal to you, and only you, he’s decided– so if you make your future husband, your father, or even the entire kingdom your enemy, then they’ll be his enemy too. And it’ll all be worth it just to see you smile for a little bit longer.

#skz x reader #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #skz smut #lee know smut #lee minho smut #skz imagines #skz scenarios #not me posting a fic again literally 4 days after my last one i am serious when i say i was possessed to write this #also not posting between the hours of 4-7am for once that is a win for me !!#mdni + divider graphic credit: @cafekitsune

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