#death bed (coffee for your head) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

alnilaem · 2 months ago

Text

coyote head and the body of a man — (e)

ghost/fem reader There's a killer on the loose. But your logging town is small and quaint and doesn't even appear on maps, so you know you're safe. That all changes when a gruff, big, taciturn man shows up at your workplace one day. Or; Simon is a fugitive serial killer, and you're the housekeeping girl that caught his eye.

cw for explicit content, graphic violence, possessive behaviour, size difference, cunnilingus, stalking

pinterest board | ao3 | for @spidehpig <3

Sometimes, you believe you were born in the centre of a dying star.

Born on the crest of death and fated for a bleak life. Dead, before you even had a chance.

The universe sweeps before you. Infinite. Expansive. Hungry. You float at the mouth of the galaxy and it swallows you whole, but doesn’t seem to like the taste of you—too bland, too trite—so it spits you back out and sends you tailspinning.

You land with a lack of courtesy. Tossed between trees and dropped in a basin. You find yourself in nowhere, Oregon. In a town flecked by a lake inlet and a clement fjord, where the moose population outnumbers the people population. It has a maritime allure but strangely enough, isn’t commercial enough to be a tourist hub. It’s too hidden in the thicket. Too deep in a borehole.

Every day here is the same. It's an abyss that yawns before you with no end in sight, lacking undue entertainment and vividness and excitement. There’s no light pollution so far off the beaten track, so oftentimes, you’ll wish upon shooting stars for someone to come for your deliverance.

There’s a reason they say be careful what you wish for.

The day isn’t even halfway over and your bone tips already ache with hard work.

It isn’t to say your workplace is busy. In fact, it’s the exact opposite. A cut-rate motel with more vacancies than residents found far-removed from the highway, taking only cash, no card, which is good for deterring paper trails and welcoming the transient but is bad for providing records when the police come knocking.

You’ll get the occasional trucker, the sparse backpacker. In any case, folks stay here when they don’t want to be bothered. They’ll drive past the splintery welcome sign and stop at the diner for earthy, full-bodied coffee and a slice of famous rhubarb pie. They’ll recuperate in the motel and leave before sunrise, and you’ll be there to clean up what they leave behind, scrubbing the memory out of the fibreglass bathtub for whoever’s next.

It’s a place where time fleets away. Hallucinatory. Where people pay their due and you hang your head because after all, you’re nothing more than the housekeeping girl. Cottony pinafore and a black dress. Mary Jane flats. Fingers desquamating from years of bleach and vinegar stuck in your nail beds. You get handed dog-eared tips and in return, you don’t ask questions. But maybe you should have.

You’re sliding the window cleaner back into its compartment on the cleaning cart just as your boss scales the veranda. He’s grinning and sporting sweat stains across his armpits. A patchy beard. A loose tie.

Your nerves lock up tight when he grasps your shoulders. His razorous fingers and the pinchbeck of his wedding band saws under your skin. The dregs of his afternoon drinking knocks into you, and you try not to let your body betray you. Despite that, your eyes water and your nose crinkles. You white-knuckle your dress and almost pop the fabric of your pinafore.

“How’s my favourite employee?” he grins. “Is she workin’ hard?”

There’s an irreverent innuendo somewhere in his smile. You ignore it and opt for a stale smile.

“I’m working,” you eke out. “I've got to restock the bathroom, then I’m done.”

“That’s good, peach. Real good,” he watches you collect toiletry essentials, then tacks on, “there’s a man in the lobby.”

You falter. The travel-sized shampoo bottle almost slips between your forefinger and thumb.

“An outsider.”

It’s an observation, not a question. If the man in the lobby were a local, Phillip would have given you a name because in this town, everybody knows everybody. The fact that a name was bereft tells you your new guest came from elsewhere. Maybe he’s cutting through the main road on his way to Yachats for your town’s cascade mountains and bigleaf maple, or for the diner’s famous rhubarb pie. In any case, he's in need of a rest stop.

“Mh. I’m gonna check him in. Just wanted to let you know I’m givin’ him this room, so try to hurry it up, okay peach?”

You blink slowly. This motel holds twelve rooms—there’s never been a need for any more—and currently, nine of those are occupied. That leaves three. There’s no reason for your boss to put up the new guest in Room 11, especially when you’re still cleaning it.

Phillip reads the question in the bend of your eyebrow. He smiles knowingly and pats your head. “He requested a room on the higher level. Room 9’s aircon is busted and Room 6 shares a wall with the Pettie’s. They’re loud.”

You sigh. “Ah.”

“Sorry peach,” he smiles like he’s apologetic, but you don’t think that’s the case. “Just get it done, alright? And add some extra coffee packets."

You furrow your lips. Displeasure flutters over you but you wash it away with a smile, refusing to irk him. You nod and pivot, bones bending against your skin for an escape as his hand whispers against your bum in an encouraging caress.

Anger simmers in your marrow. Phillip simply chuckles, disparaging.

“That’s a sweet peach.”

His voice gets muted by the tinny, rattling radiator as you make it to the bathroom. You stock it up dutifully—perhaps taking extra long to ensure he's not waiting outside for you—and spritz air freshener around the room when you finish. It’s a flaky, expired bottle of Platinum Ice which barely masks the town’s deep-seated smell of old-growth forest, petrichor and woody debris. You hope the new guest doesn’t have a sharp nose.

You make sure to stuff the coffee station with extra packets before stepping out of the room. Off the mysteriously stained carpet, onto the veranda. You putter around with your large keyring, thumbing through the nickel-brass since you also have a key to the elementary school, post office, and city hall (aptly titled shitty hall by locals, since this town isn’t much of a city and the building’s roof is held together by nothing but rusty rivets and tassels of sprig collected in the corners). You’ve got so many keys because again, everybody knows everybody, and it isn’t rare to see the housekeeping girl at the motor lodge supplementing her income as a part-time teaching aid.

Finally, you find the master key. You lock the room and roll the cleaning cart into the utility room before locking that too. Your wrist drags across your forehead, wiping away sweat, and you tug on your dress because perspiration has pasted it onto the pert curve of your breasts, the squish of your thighs. You furtively glance down your bodice and watch how the sweat pocks your skin, knotting your nipples against your cheap bra. Lament catches you in regards to your shower after work—it’s going to be freezing since the heating system here is so fickle—and in the paroxysm of your grief, the sound of heavy breathing eludes you.

You don’t hear his footsteps. He’s an ambush predator. Stalking and shadowing in the tall grass, waiting for the moment your hackles melt to bite into your neck like an unripe stone fruit. You don’t see him, but you feel him. His breath tickling down your neck. The erogenous zone behind your ear.

A gasp parts your lips and you whip around, coming face-to-face with a paunchy chest plated by moth-eaten flannel. You heft your head up, exercising the hinge in your neck. Paling at the sight that greets you.

He has a Cabela’s cap on. It’s pulled over his eyes, but a few blonde curls peek out from under the crown of his hat. He has a damaged, blistered face. A cauliflower ear. Nicks on his cheeks that distend from his skin and have turned pallid with time, rippling like seafoam petticoats on waves as he flickers his jaw. He wears jeans and mud-clogged boots and holds a duffel bag.

His gaze unties you. You slowly find words, fitting them in an orderly queue in your mind as you avert your gaze and stare at the floor. Squirming. Preening. Sweltering.

“Welcome to Sockeye Inn, mister…”

Silence. He lets your words awkwardly trail off. Doesn’t do anything to belay the discomfort in your belly. The man simply stares at you with brown eyes.

Humiliation crawls up your spine and settles on your cheeks. It burns through your skin, withering you away, to which you fidget with your fingers and baldly nod towards the door.

“Your room is ready,” you murmur. “Enjoy your stay, sir. Uh– if you need anything just give us a shout. Phone’s on the bedside table.”

Foolishly, you wait for a response again. Nothing. He towers over you, owlishly blinking, one slower than the other because he seems to have a lazy eye. You clench your skirt and softly shoulder past him, heading for the stairs as you hear him putter with the keyhole.

You’ve halfway scaled it when a rasp distorted by what seems to be years of cigarettes stops you dead in your tracks.

“Bring me a BLT and root beer.”

You burn up at the muscle in his voice. The drag. Just as you’re about to reply, his room door slams shut and rocks across the veranda.

Your dress is stickier than it was before. Perhaps an ice cold shower isn’t so bad after all.

The end of your shift slowly arrogates.

After delivering food to Simon Riley—you glinted at the logbook while waiting for his order, reading his name—you left his room as soon as possible. You set the food down and found yourself plugging your nose. The Platinum Ice you sprayed before didn’t accost you— instead, it was pomade. Lucky Strike cigarettes. Decaying heartwood. Bleach.

You pointedly breathed through your mouth. It didn’t actually help though, since you could taste it then. The ethanol in the air drizzled over your pockmarked tongue and glided down your throat. Collected in your stomach.

You almost retched it back up at the sight of him.

Through the foggy shower wall, the colour of his hazy contour was striking. It seemed to be a tight fit for him, hemming in his lumberjack build. The shampoo bottle looked like a damn accessory in his large hands and his chased shoulder blades pressed soap against the glass pane, sudsy.

Your curiosity pulled your gaze lower. Down to the heavy mass between his thighs, thick and fat. Bulbous.

His spine suddenly went erect, straightening like a chary animal. As if by the agitated pappus of his skin, his chin lifted in your direction, and that’s when the earth collapsed under your feet and you beetled for the door.

You distract yourself in the kitchen. Emptying the dishwasher. Taking the garbage to the bear-proof receptacles. Putting the oven on steam clean. Kate, the kitchen supervisor, stares at you oddly under her hairnet but she isn’t going to reject a set of helping hands.

You scrub at a pan hoping it will erase the image burned into your mind. Hoping that the steel wool will have the same effect on your temporal lobe as it does on the pan. You don’t realize your hands are chafing and the pan is flaking, not until Kate is passionately complaining beside you, her spit dashing onto the side of your face.

“—fuckin’ freeloaders. They drain our taxes but can’t even do their damn jobs. Wait until one of their family gets butchered, you’ll see, that’s when they’ll start taking this seriously.”

She waves a newspaper in your face. The paper stack fans in front of you, blowing you with cool air. You’re just barely able to read the big, blocky headline.

Connection Made Between Ventura, Gilroy and Eugene Serial Killer — Aptly Coined the Ghost.

“Eugene!” Kate slaps the newspaper, frazzled. “Not even three hours from us!”

You scarcely listen to her, her voice ripening into white noise as you scrutinize the police sketch on the newspaper’s margin. The offender is drawn with an overripe balaclava and probing eyes. Dark brown, as if his corneal opacity has laid claim before death. His eyelids have no tension, but a furl of crow's feet gather at the corners. It’s uncanny. Eerie. And even though he’s pressed on paper, you can’t help the unease welling inside you.

A part of you waits for the other shoe to drop. For him to manifest and crawl out of the paper, dripping ink and viscous tar, ruining your Mary Jane flats and the floor you’d just mopped.

Hemlock hits the back of your throat. Lemony, sedgy. Your eyes fixate on the information detailing his crimes. Spines broken and necks snapped with inhumane strength. Pieces of flesh carved with the precision of either a surgeon or a butcher. Rigour mortis locking the victims in a scream, nail beds caked with skin which implies a struggle, but leads nowhere since the Ghost’s DNA hasn’t been found on any database.

(He’s as elusive as his name suggests. Investigators say he could be foreign, or that he has a clean record. The latter seems unlikely for the violent calibre of his crimes.)

There’s also his modus operandi—slicing off his victim’s ring finger, taking it with him. A cruel reward.

“They say he’s taking Route 101,” Kate tacks on. “That he’s a long-hauler. How the hell will they catch a long-hauler?”

You shake your head, shrugging. Your tongue is too heavy and your gums rub against the round of your cheeks when you try speaking. The sentence gets snagged on your molars, and all that comes out are sparse words, lamely falling to the floor with how out of breath you are.

“…They’ll catch him.”

“They better,” she shortly huffs. “I don’t want this town making the paper for all the wrong reasons.”

Death comes to you in a cornfield.

You’re sprinting through the crop, barefoot and scantily clad and pricked by thorns. Your clothing catches on thistle and corn husk, slowing you down, but the quick-footed trampling at your tail keeps your pace steady and stable.

Your lungs burn. Your bones rasp. Your eyes well up with how fast you’re moving, with how your retinas strain to see more in the pitch black than just reflective corn silk and the crescent moon.

The midnight sky is close to swallowing you whole, but at this point that would be an act of mercy. The whistle of his cleaver slicing through the air and the stomp of his boots are promptly catching up, heckling you, barely whispering against the flowy cotton of your dress.

By a cruel twist of fate your foot catches on a tiller and sends you flying. Your nose softens the impact, the crack of cartilage reverberating through your skull, glutinous red spurting down your chin as you try scrambling to your feet.

But true to his name, Ghost, he slips through matter and suddenly, he’s standing in front of you.

Black, sweaty tank top. Freshly sharpened meat cleaver. Stout arms. Predatory eyes. Rotting balaclava—which at this point, you’re starting to believe was grafted onto his face, fitting him like skin.

You raise your hands for mercy.

But you should know dead stars have exhausted all their luminosity—that after death, they hold no power. That space is a graveyard. That’s why the Ghost poises his cleaver behind him. That’s why the last thing you see is his cleaver handle swinging towards you, about to collide with and shatter your cheekbone into a million pieces—

—but daylight strikes you with no clear trajectory.

It’s your alarm that rings, waking you up from a nightmare, telling you to brush your teeth and scrub yourself down and pop your supplements before biking to work. You do so sluggishly, standing under the shower spray as you massage your cheekbone. Burning your toast as you scour the news for developing details on the Ghost case. Ordering a cup of coffee from the local diner and gulping it down behind the motel lest Phillip catches you.

Your nightmare—omen, prophecy, portent of death?—pursues you like the persistent stench of fish on an angler’s hands all morning. You flinch at the slightest noise while scrubbing toilets, you constantly look over your shoulder while sweeping floors.

Malaise builds in your blood vessels like creosote. It doesn’t thin into fluid, flowing in and out of your appendages and around your sex until you situate yourself in front of Room 11. Fluffing up your skirt and puffing out your chest.

You announce your presence and rap the door with your Mary Jane flat because your hands are occupied with new bed sheets. Your knuckles blanch around the linen, quivering, struggling to keep it in your grip. The sheets almost flutter to your feet when a voice penetrates the door, abrasive and husky. Rough. Grating against your spine and shaving down the vertebrae.

“Door’s open.”

You wait a few seconds before contorting yourself against the threshold. You try the handle and lo and behold, it’s unlocked, swinging open when you press your weight onto it.

You step inside and toe off your flats. Next to Simon’s boots, they look fit for a doll, and a dizzy spell ricochets through you at the size difference. At the stark reminder that he’s as big and packed as a thick tree stump.

You walk inside and heed the CRT television playing the news.

It does nothing to soften the scream that rips out of you as you round the corner.

Simon is in bed, pulling on a cigarette. His pudgy tummy and bristly chest are bared, the steel wool of his happy trail disappearing into the bed sheets furled around his hips. The flat sheet is thin enough to outline something stirring. Something thick and pressed against his inner thigh.

He stares at you, eyes of Argus. It’s so intense you’re sure he can sense the slick running down your back. The dew that settles in the gusset of your panties.

You stutter. “I can come back later.”

Simon sits up with a groan. It rattles you. His joints must be fettered with age, or hard work, but in any case your head goes cottony with the picture of him splitting wood and hauling heavy bovine flanks.

You swallow thick as he shakes his head. “It’s no problem, sugar. I’m not even here.”

The pet name makes you squirm. You sure do feel like it—sugar, that is—with the way you could melt on his tongue, wedge yourself between his teeth. Turn syrupy and sappy at the back of his throat.

He takes another drag of his cigarette. You watch raptly as his jaw feathers around it, lips proffering another plume of smoke.

He blinks. “Well?”

You eke out an apology and fiddle with your hands.

“I’ll have to, um, change your bedsheets first.”

Simon shakes his head. He taps the ashy casualties off the tip of his cigarette and you watch as it sinks onto the bed sheet, almost burning through the floral motif. “No need.”

“Well,” you cough, forcing your eyes away from him, “if I don’t, my boss…”

Simon pricks up. The hind of his spine straightens the same way a dog would sit straight and plumb after hearing rustling in a bush. His muscles tighten, thick, and his face twists into a sneer. The bed sheet around him falls and you lock up tight lest it bare his pubic bone.

“Is he a minger?”

“I’m sorry?”

He huffs. “‘s he a bully?”

“Oh, no,” you blandly laugh. “Mister Graves isn’t a bully. He just…”

“Makes you uncomfortable?”

There’s a lapse between acknowledging his question and spitting out an answer that makes you kick yourself. Simon already looks dubious. You hug the sheets closer to your chest and smile, your cheeks feathering like beeswax.

“He’s a kind man.”

“Not wha’ I asked,” he says. The bed creaks as he leans forward, the sheets slipping lower, scarcely covering his sex. “I asked if he does stuff he shouldn’t be doin’.”

Your heartbeat quickens. Briefly, you wonder if he can hear it. He probably can, albeit softly, due to his lumpy cauliflower ear.

“He’s a married man,” you mumble. “He doesn’t touch me if that’s what you mean. Not like that.”

“There’s only one way to touch someone,” Simon grunts. His chest starts churning a little, as if he’s agitated. “Does he put his hands on you?”

Your skin burns, remembering. A phantom scar runs through you, long and creeping, mapping all the places in which Phillip’s pinchbeck wedding ring has burned you. The suture of your spine, the pappy flesh of your neck, the rise of your hips where his palm has melted through your dress and smarted your skin.

Your silence makes Simon grunt.

Panic surges up your throat. You feel the need to defend Phillip, in some approximation of gratitude and fear since you’re on his payroll and you don’t want to reap the consequences should you rat on him and he find out.

“No!” you hurry. “Mister Graves isn’t like that. He’s a good man. Honest.”

Simon’s eyes push against your skin. He scrutinizes you, tests you. Waits to see if you’ll fidget too much and flake away and sink into the carpet.

He growls. “You fancy him, is tha’ it?”

Answering yes is the only way to shake him off your leg. You do so archly, so it seems as though the thought of your boss has you flushing when really it’s Simon. He’s fully upright, and now you can see the girthy base of his cock. Stirring, twitching. You suppress a moan.

“Yeah…” you murmur. You can feel your makeup turning blotchy, running down your cheeks. “It’s just a bit…embarrassing, is all.”

He lapses into it again. Staring at you. Razoring his way into your head and thumbing through your consciousness, searching for an Achilles’ heel. A crack he can break into a hole because he has the size for it—barrel-chested, stupidly thick fingers.

Simon slips out of bed and disturbs the coiled aches of the mattress. He holds a washcloth over his crotch. It’s crusty and keeps shape and covers almost nothing, confirming your inkling.

His bulbous cockhead winks at you from under the hem. It’s heavy. Leaky. Dripping precum that laves down his legs and gets caught in the wiry hair of his thigh.

Anxiety pools in your armpits and around your groin. Or maybe that’s just arousal. Brackish and sticky, rubbing your pussy lips together, hugging your clit.

Simon pulls on his cigarette once more and then folds it into the bedside table. You should scold him. You should tell him that he’ll have to pay for damages even though the wood is already degraded and mouldy. You should scuttle out of the room and call for Phillip, but that would be a crueler fate. Instead you stay fixed to the carpet as Simon steps forward. Cock swinging between his legs, tummy jiggling.

You don’t know whether he’s going to pull you in for a kiss or rip off your dress or—and you’re unsure why you think of this—take you by your skull and smash it against the television stand. He has the muscle to, surely, but somehow you know he won’t. And the thought of that makes your skin hot.

You’re at his mercy.

You gird yourself for his lips or for your dress to be torn off, but your preparations flux away as Simon steps close and crowds you against the television stand. The stench of Lucky Strike cigarettes and gamey meat impair you, as he reaches behind you and increases the television volume. You want to say something but cotton fills your mouth and the news report floods your ears. It’s fragmentary—you can only heed oddments of the news anchor’s latest updates.

The Ghost is still at large. Corpses keep popping up around California and Oregon, each with their ring fingers sliced off. The tipline has been leading investigators nowhere, shepherding them to the end of the earth and over the edge, floating, where they’ll move through molasses and will never be able to catch him.

White male. 6’4”. 196 centimetres. Brown eyes. Heavyset. Likely military background. Likely a surgeon, or a butcher. A dangerous, ruthless individual.

If spotted, do not approach.

Simon’s breath fans against your neck, rousing the bristles of your warm cheeks. He turns off the television and steps back. An ether opens up in the pit of your stomach as your gaze falls on his bulging pelvis, on the purplish veins and webbing muscle, sitting like a tuft under his navel, disappearing behind the washcloth where his cock stirs.

Simon tuts. “World’s goin’ to shite.”

You nod.

“You shouldn’t be out here anyway,” he tacks on. “Should be at home takin’ care of your man’s house. Keepin’ safe.”

You flash your naked ring finger embarrassingly fast. “I-It’s just me…and my cat.”

His eyes darken. His head tilts down at you. He purrs.

“Better get started on mine then,” he breathes. “Put yourself to good use.”

You shyly get to cleaning his room.

You try to ignore his hand disappearing behind the washcloth, pumping his cock. You can’t ignore the silk ruining your panties. Scarcely, you manage to ignore the caution creeping up your back. Your lower instinct that screams at you as you feel his stare tracking you across the room, burning. Smouldering. Warning.

Daylight scissors into you.

It melts the sleep in the corners of your eyes. It clears the haze in your head. It interrupts the sultry dream you were having. Your flesh is still pocked and your clit is still peaked, as you rehash the contents of it.

You can still feel Simon’s weight on top of you, sweat compressioning you, the sheets gathering under your slick back. Your underwear had dangled from one of your ankles, flapping and swaying as Simon pounded into you. Your head bobbed over the lip of the mattress. Your tits bounced, nipples caught between his gnashers. Your slick ran down your cunt and over your asshole, pooling onto the floral bed sheets. You just quit your job. You didn’t care about the sheets. Or the Pettie’s down the veranda. Phillip was on the other side of the door too, and he could hear everything. Your moans. Simon’s balls dragging over your furled hole. His groans—

—And the sudden tearing of cartilage and skin stretching, rubbery, as Simon shifted into something else above you. Something larger. Deadlier. His drool dripped onto your chest, and his cock was suddenly too big for your pussy, popping back out until only his tip managed to squeeze inside your puffy hole. He snarled down at you, but it got covered by a creeping balaclava. You still reached your orgasm, quivering around his cockhead. Watching him go spotty and graphite-like in your vision, as if he were a composite sketch.

You get out of bed and wash the absurd dream away under the shower. The nozzle hits your clit weakly, and you never reach your high. You show up to work pigeon-toed and sweaty. Pent-up. You scrub harder at bathtubs and almost snap at Phillip when he swats your bum. Almost. Simon is watching from the dining hall, and he makes you skittish.

The day rolls by sluggishly. There’s a Do Not Disturb sign dangling from Simon’s door, so you don’t get the chance to see him in his room. You huff and puff at the Pettie’s and give Kate attitude. It’s the peak of afternoon when you’re sent home, shoulders stiff because Phillip squeezed them and tacked on, ”I can always help out if you’re stressed, peach,” before shepherding you out the door.

You bike into town. Indulge in the diner’s famous rhubarb pie because the motel’s cherry pie is nowhere near as good, though you’ll never tell Kate that. You polish off your treat then ride to the beach (which is more of a graveyard for birds and braided, washed ashore sea meadow), and prop your bike against the wooden bollards.

The beach is familiar with you. It sees you when you're overwhelmed by the monotonous colour of your life. You never worry about meddling kids or loud teenagers or anything, because the stench of fish usually keeps them away anyway. It's your own Shangri-La. Your little Eden. Albeit overcast and greyscale, with an ocean spray that gets into your hair and dries out your mouth.

You slip out of your Mary Jane flats and wade through the sand dunes, breathing in salt and sulfur and tasting it on your lips. You maneuver around seawrack and driftwood and eventually find yourself seated behind a tussock of seaoats, watching as the waves lazily beat against the shore.

It's easy for you to lie down and get comfortable among the scent of iodine and the feel of pillowy granules. It's also easy to let your eyes flutter shut, lulled into limbo by the ebbing tide and murmuring waves.

You stir awake with flaccid lungs.

Presentiment hangs in the air, thick, like a blanket of smog. It interrupts your breathing pattern and makes you light-headed. Vertiginous. Makes you see things that aren't there…

…Such as the off-white scleras and twists of dilated blood vessels that stare at you from the foreshore.

They approach you eerily. Two pieces of driftwood floating over the waves, jolting slightly as it hits the sand, splintery and mossy and heavy.

The man feathers toward you from the blue glow of the beach. You squint through the darkness, because maybe it's the sheriff, but you know he walks with a drunken gait and he…strides like a bear on its hind legs.

The way he lurches for you says otherwise. Perhaps he's rather a panther or a coyote, or some crude backyard breed of all three.

A large palm splits itself over your mouth. An arm lays beside you and secretes a musk of sweat and iron. A knee digs into the plush of your cunt, agitating your clit, as a warm breath fans over your pulse point.

"Waited for me, didn't you?" he rasps against your neck.

In your stupor, you brace your hands against his shoulders. A sticky substance coats his skin, too viscous to be sweat.

Nausea knots in your throat. Tremors wash over your body. You dig your nails into his flesh, and when your hands don't fall through it like you hoped, you gravely realize he's made of muscle and skin instead of your drunken, sleep-inspired imagination.

You experience a cruel loss of equilibruim. If you weren't already lying down, you'd collapse to the ground. You go limp in the sand, thawing into his hands which you unwillingly notice are caked with that sticky substance too.

"There's dangerous folk 'round here," he grunts. "What if someone else followed you? A big, bad man?"

A chord of recognition stirs in your brain at his voice. That brash accent.

"Simon…?"

He chuckles. "It's me, sugar."

You squeeze your thighs together but it's abortive. He pries them apart anyway, and cups your pussy through your panties.

He rubs you through the gauze, knuckling your soft lips. Through the darkness you barely see the misshapen silhouette of his mouth. That snarl, curling off him as if he suffers from some chronic wasting disease, slowly atrophying and turning into some vestigal cadaver.

He kisses down your sternum. Grips your hand and forces it over his crotch. Your fingers brush over the solid mass. It's hard due to both stiffened denim and his thickening cock.

"All for you," he mumbles. "Take it out, sugar."

You fumble with the metal teeth of his zipper. You pull him out with both hands and your mouth goes dry. Tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth. Deadly nightshade hitting the back of your throat. Despite you, your thighs squish together, and a rumbling chuckle slips through the seam of his lips.

He's huge. Fat and heavy, so much so you need both fingers to wrap around him.

"Give it a kiss, yeah?" he coos. "Like a sweet girl."

You spread your lips against his cockhead. You pull away and a string of precum chases you, but Simon is pushing your head back down and bucking his bristly pubic bone into to your nose.

"There it is," he grumbles. "Such a big girl, aren't you?"

You look up at him with wide, wet eyes.

The stiffs of hair on his pubic bone tickle your nose. You smell sweat and iron, but you can't tilt your head away, because the stout muscle of his arms keep you in place.

Fighting is futile. His cockhead hits the back of your throat like oleander and he holds your jaw in place, dimpling your cheeks with his rough fingers, letting his balls slap against your chin.

Just as you're getting used to his size, he pulls out, breaking the strands of saliva and precum between you.

"Take off y'panties, sugar."

You pull them off and squirm at the way the gusset clings to your pussy lips a little while longer. Simon takes it against his nose and sniffs it, running his fingers through your pussy, spreading your slick.

You don't get a warning before he's curling one of his fingers into you. Massaging your walls. Scissoring you open. Thumbing your clit.

He adds another and twists them deeper—meaner—into you. He swallows your whimpers but spits them back into your mouth when he empties his saliva down your throat. He keeps stroking the inside of your pussy, your sticky walls, and rubbing your clit.

He squeezes your cheeks together and gives you a big kiss. He coos condescendingly into your lips, and licks away your fresh track of tears. "It's supposed to hurt, baby. Don't be mad, alright? It'll feel good soon."

He gets deeper and deeper. Knuckle-deep, when he curls his fingers inside you. You lock up tight and thrust your hips through the bulk of your orgasm, trembling and quivering around him.

Your lips quiver around a plea when he pulls his fingers out. It's a lapse of judgement on your part—you know it—but you can't help it anymore.

"Please what?" He grins. It's ugly. Like a truss of stitching falling off his face, mangled and chewed up.

"Can you g-go…" you squirm when he rolls his tumb over your clit, agonizingly slow. "Can you go–"

"C'mon baby," he whispers against your lips, "spit it out. Big girls use their words."

"Canyougodownonme?" you gasp and grip onto him, bucking your cunt into his palm.

He chuckles against your mouth. He kisses down your chest. He crinkles his nose against the husk of your pussy. He deeply inhales and vibrates at your scent. He darts his tongue out and flattens it against your dewy folds, licking a stripe up your slit.

You writhe but he holds you in place with those big, thickened hands of his. They're wet but at this point you can't tell if it's your arousal or that mysterious substance on him. You can't even think about it, not with your thoughts melting away, escaping you like the humming waves.

Simon's a bit too aggressive in how he eats you out. It doesn't come from a juvenile attempt influenced by sex-on-screen with undue emphasis, but rather his tongue spelling devotion into the fat of your cunt.

Your fingers flex into his blonde head of hair. It's closely cropped, but you still manage to pull him closer, grinding yourself down on the bumpy bridge his nose. You pull on his hair and he growls and sends a quake up your spine. He wraps his lips around your clit and swirls his tongue further into you, softly suckling your juices out.

The waves fold over each other, beating against the shore. They crest and crash and just as they race up the sand dune, teasing your flexing toes, your second orgasm crashes into you too. You twist and twirl Simon's hair in your grip and almost miss the feel of something cold being slipped onto your finger.

You're shaking, trembling, as you raise your hand. You're hazy and the moonlight is shrouded by clouds. It makes the mystery object look smeared across your vision, blotchy and spotty.

You hold it a little closer to your face, examining the twinkle as Simon massages your thighs to ease the quiver.

You turn your hand over and whisper your thumb over its curve.

You bristle when you realize what it is. It hangs off you a little loosely, burning your knuckle.

A pinchbeck wedding ring.

Stained with red, and still warm from the body it was pulled from.

Bile gathers in your throat and burns your mouth. Tears gather in your eyes. A small gasp parts your lips, billowing out of you like the mushroom-head of a flare just as realization fully commits itself to you.

You shiver. Both through realization, and your orgasm. "…What did you do to him?"

"Took care of him," Simon grunts, caressing your hair. "I'm supposed to handle the monsters under your bed, ain't I?"

You spare him a glance. You heed the white of his teeth and a smudge of—you know it's blood—across his cheek. His eyes, hidden in the shadowy canopy. His nose, bent out of shape and speckled with blood.

"You're not going to hurt me."

He brushes your hair back. "No."

You pant into him when he captures you for a kiss. "…Why?"

"I'm supposed to take care of ya," he grunts. "That's what couples do, no?"

He pushes something in your grasp—a folding knife. Your thumb slips over the two initials engraved into the handle—your initials.

"How do y'feel about Kate?" he asks.

Your coworker flashes into your mind. "I like her"

Simon—the Ghost—grunts. "And what about that bloke at the diner? What's his name?"

"I– Franklin?"

"Hn. Does he bother you?"

You thumb through your memory. Perhaps what you say is an embellishment, giddy of what Simon's going for.

"He did steal my bike once…" you mumble.

Simon pricks up. His chest puffs out and squishes against your arm. "He married?"

"Yeah, um," you swallow, "for about ten years."

"You want his pretty ring? Or his wife's?" Simon asks, then kisses you. "Anythin' you want."

Your lips stretch into a smile.

Simon cups your cheek, blood rubbing off on you. For the first time ever, you feel exhilarated at the thought of the future. At the thought of being taken care of. Doted on.

Suddenly the town doesn't feel so cold anymore. It doesn't feel like an invisible barricade is hemming you in. Simon is your ticket out of here, and a ticket to your new life.

You can abandon your pinafore and Mary Jane flats and maybe he'll spoil you with frilly socks and a cute sundress. Maybe he'll fuck you in his truck or in gas station bathrooms as the corpse of a man who wronged you rots in the truckbed. Maybe you'll get caught but at least you'll be together and at least your name will finally be known.

Not as the housekeeper girl, but Mrs Riley.

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost/reader #simon riley smut #ghost smut #cod x reader #cod mw2 #simon riley #simon ghost riley #cod smut #orion writing

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noraxab · 1 year ago

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#quote #music #powfu #beabadoobee #death bed (coffee for your head)#sad #Spotify

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lotties-ashwagandha · 2 months ago

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THE FIRST TO BREAK

agatha harkness x reader x rio vidal

NSFW! when they can’t decide who indulges you more, agatha and rio find a way to settle it in competition. based on this ask i got. 1.3k words. i might have written this at 7am (that’s my excuse if it’s bad <3).

Rio’s arms rest looped around your waist as you stand at the stove. Her head rests on your shoulder as she watches you work, as you pour herbs and spices into a pot —you got up early, stalking through the kitchen to create something to prevent the illnesses that will be coming with winter soon. You use your witchcraft in the way of herbs, a potion witch as they would call you.

“You don’t need any of this,” Rio whispers. She watches you stir, and her arms around you grow tighter. “I’m not taking you from illness.”

You smile softly. You’ve tried to explain to her before that it’s not just about life and death, but discomfort — how much life resembles the gleaming, shifting ideal of thriving. She is still learning, it’s a concept too human for what is ancient, for Death.

“You’re going to keep her alive forever,” Agatha’s voice rings out into the gentle silence of the kitchen as she speaks to Rio. You turn slightly in Rio’s grasp to look over at her, and as she pours a coffee for herself Agatha raises her eyebrows at you accusingly. “Don’t break my favoritism streak.”

You shake your head. “I’ll try.”

Rio rolls her eyes. She steps away from you, leaning against the kitchen island behind her as she turns to Agatha. “If one of us is treating her with favoritism, it’s not me.”

“Really? That’s a stretch. How do I treat her with favoritism?”

Leaving the contents on the stove to simmer, you turn to watch them argue over you. It is playful, but still endearing, because you know they both treat you with favoritism.

“You answer to whatever she wants,” Rio says, like it’s obvious. “Even when she doesn’t ask, you’re always giving.”

“That’s not a bad thing.”

“No. Stealing diamond earrings and a diamond bracelet in the same week from a shopkeeper you threatened to kill is a little much though, isn’t it?”

Agatha is quiet for a moment, taking a sip of her coffee. She drinks out of a black mug Rio got her, wears a dark blue robe Rio bought her, wears a wedding ring Rio proposed to her with. You don’t think you are the one being shown partiality.

Agatha sets the mug down and looks at you. “What do you think?”

You didn’t think it had been worth bickering over. They had disagreed. Now as you lay on the bed with your hands tied all you want is for them to show you favor, to fuck you until they forget the petty competition they have created between them.

Two of Rio’s fingers slide into you as she takes advantage of her turn. The rules of their competition are simple: whoever lets you come first loses. You’re working up to the third time being edged, this is Rio’s second time on you and Agatha has only edged you once.

It was Agatha’s plan to make Rio go first, and now you can see why, because in the way she’s fucking you so greedily now with her fingers and in the low moans she lets slip as she sucks bruises onto your chest you can tell Rio will be the first to break. She wants to let you come as bad as you need it, her black nails digging into your hips as her free hand presses against you in a reminder to stay still.

“Look at her,” Agatha says, speaking to Rio as if you couldn’t hear, you were something to admire. “Doesn’t she deserve to come? She’s so beautiful for us like this.”

Rio lets out a frustrated breath, accusatory glance shifting to Agatha, who takes advantage of her proximity and pulls her into a kiss. You watch them above you, one of Agatha’s hands drifting to your breasts as she sits at your side. She’s trying hard to do anything she can to make Rio let you come.

Rio notices Agatha’s wandering touch. She pulls out of the kiss, pulling Agatha’s hand away from your breasts and replacing it with her mouth. The sensation elicits a gasp from you, and your back arches into the sensation of her tongue licking across one of your nipples.

“She’s so close,” Agatha whispers into Rio’s ear. She watches you with the same hunger in Rio’s eyes as she keeps fucking you with her fingers. “Think about how perfect she would look for you, how it would feel to have her—”

Just as you reach the edge of your orgasm, Rio pulls her hands from you. She compensates with kissing you — it’s not enough, though, and you can’t help but whine into the kiss. You need her touch, or Agatha’s, something to soothe the need growing in you so sharply.

When you pull away and look at Agatha, a conflicted expression occupies her features. You know she wants to give you an orgasm, but she also wants to win. As she takes Rio’s place and settles herself between your legs, head dipping down to kiss your thighs, you can see it — that there’s nothing she wants more right now than to feel you come on her tongue.

When Rio kisses you from beside you, Agatha delivers a sharp slap to the outside of your thigh. You tense, startled out of the kiss.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Agatha’s tone is demanding as she addresses Rio, who looks back at her with unbothered pride.

“I’m playing by your rules. You want to taunt me during my turn? It has to be even.”

“It will be even when I win,” Agatha says, and you’re overcome with the sensation of her tongue dragging through you. Your hands pull at the restraints above you to no avail. You want to reach down and weave your hands in her hair, or pull Rio closer to you as she watches.

Agatha runs her tongue over your clit. She does it harder, moaning against you when your legs begin to tremble on either side of her head. It’s almost painful how good it feels to have her tongue dipping inside of you and back up to your clit. With Rio’s lips crashing back into yours you can feel yourself slowly building into another orgasm — this time you need it.

“Please,” you beg breathlessly, hands pulling the restraints again. “You win, both of you can win…”

“Agatha,” Rio taunts beside you. She watches as Agatha draws you closer and closer to the edge — she watches when Agatha pulls away.

Yet when Agatha pulls away it’s not to let Rio take her place, but to slide two fingers into you and reposition herself so she can kiss you. You taste yourself on her tongue and a moan escapes you.

“Come for me, baby, give it to me,” Agatha murmurs. Your body responds immediately, any restraint you’ve tried to keep snaps as white-hot euphoria rushes over you. Agatha fucks you through it, fingers buried deep in you as she guides you through your orgasm. Vaguely you’re able to process Rio beside you as well with one of her hands between her legs — she’s gone with you, at the sight of you and Agatha.

Agatha kisses you again as you come down from it. You hear Rio breathing heavily beside you, and then Agatha is pulled away from you again so that Rio can kiss her. When they part, Rio looks into her eyes. “You fucking lose.”

“And you’re the one that got off on it.”

A smile makes its way to your lips. Playfully Rio shakes her head at you, Agatha moving to lay on your other side so that you’re sandwiched between them while Rio undoes the restraints on your wrists. You pull your hands down.

Laying down with them, Rio rests her head on her chest and loops an arm around your waist. Agatha holds her hand, and in their embrace you are enveloped by their love. There is no winner amongst you — the victory is shared.

#agatha all along #agathario x reader #agatha harkness x rio vidal x reader #agatha x rio x reader #agatha x rio #agathario #rio vidal x reader #agatha harkness x reader #agathario smut #agatha harkness #rio vidal #agatha harkness smut #rio vidal smut #agatha all along smut

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schrodingerscougar · 10 months ago

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Note: Wow, the roommate!Simon story blew up. Anyway, here's part 2.

Following his conversation with Johnny, Simon begins to think. He begins to consider the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he’s developing feelings for you. Why else would he be so protective and mad when the sergeant talks this way about you? The thought scares him at first.

For one, being near him is a death sentence, he saw that with his family. He can’t even imagine surviving losing someone he loved again. Then there is another thing, the fact he isn’t sure you would return his feelings. If you didn’t, as he suspects, living with you would be torture, and he’s honestly too lazy to look for a new place to stay.

The next time he arrives home in the middle of the day, the apartment is empty since you’re at your workplace most probably. Not seeing your face brighten at the sight of him makes his heart ache, but he knows you’ll be home in two or three hours, so he can most certainly survive that by lying down to catch up on sleep. He leaves a post-it for you on the small table next to the front door where you always put your keys, warning you that he’s back home.

He’s woken by the smell of fresh coffee and something sweet. When he checks the clock on his bedside, he notices it’s past seven, which means he slept a good four hours without interruptions. The new record of the past weeks as the most he slept peacefully was two hours tops. He climbs out of bed and goes to the living room, surprised to see you in the kitchen, humming a song to yourself as you admire the neatly cut brownies on the kitchen island.

“You’re awake!” you exclaim happily, quickly pressing a button on the coffee machine to make him some coffee too, then pick up an empty plate and put a slice of brownie on it. “Welcome home. Here, try this. I thought you might use some homemade things after being away for so long.”

That damn smile of yours. It’s wide, happy, and it easily warms his heart and makes him smile too. Your good mood is infectious and he finds himself stuffing the cookie into his mouth as he stands next to you, nudging your side with his hip playfully. “It’s perfect, thank you,” he says while chewing, earning a roll of your eyes. You hate it when someone talks with their mouth full, so he quickly swallows the remains and goes, “Sorry.”

You shake your head with a laugh then turn away to get his coffee. Simon can’t help but wonder if this is how things would always be if you were his wife, if you would be this kind and caring all the time. He certainly could get used to this. He wouldn’t believe he deserves all the love, but he would definitely enjoy your attention.

“What got you thinking so hard?”

Simon lets out a questioning hum before realizing he zoned out for a while. “You,” he replies honestly.

“Me?”

“Mm-hmm.” Before you could ask more questions, he moves in front of you, trapping you between the kitchen island and his body as he leans down to you. “I had an interesting conversation with someone and it got me thinking while I was gone,” he says with his lips moving so close he almost kisses you. “Do you have any idea how much I miss you when I’m deployed? How many times do I wonder what you’re doing while I’m away?”

It’s easy to tell, especially from this close, that your heart is racing and your breath is caught in your throat as you watch him. Your eyes are moving back and forth between his lips and his eyes, unable to decide what to focus on. You’re both under a spell that he doesn’t want to break, in fact he wants this moment to last forever, this anticipation before he finally makes up his mind to kiss you. He wants to do it, but he can’t help but think about whether or not you would be against it.

Maybe he thinks too much, maybe his brain is too focused on the negative thoughts, and before he knows it, you move your head to capture his lips with yours in a slow and sensual kiss. Simon is aware that he has issues. He understands that his brain is only on high alert because deep down he doesn’t believe he deserves your attention. After all, he’s not a good man. Well, not always. He does his job like a good little soldier, but the lines are blurry between good and bad.

He knows that you know this too. Shortly after he moved in and found out what he did for a living, you had a lot of questions, many that he simply wasn’t allowed to answer. But you probably sensed that he was keeping things to himself, certain aspects of this position that civilians would never understand. He didn’t want to scare you away, he didn’t want you to throw him out, so he kept his mouth shut. You knew that and never pried for more information.

When your nails dig into the skin on his back in a desperate attempt to pull him closer, Simon finally returns to the moment, returning your delicious kiss while his hands grab your ass and help you on the counter behind you. His lips trail from your lips to the shell of your ear, whispering praises until he feels your hands moving to his belt.

As much as he wants that, he knows he has to stop you. So he reaches down to grab your hands, pulling them away and lacing his fingers with yours as he kisses the tip of your nose. “Not yet, love. Let’s go on a proper date first, yeah?” he asks you with a small smile.

You whine, then you beg for more, asking him why you have to go on a date when you've been living together for over a year now. He tells you that the reason is simple; he spent a bigger part of it away from home so you have to get to know each other.

“I know you, Simon,” you push on, your fingers tracing the tattoos on his forearm as you speak. When you see the determination in his eyes, you finally let out a sigh of defeat and say, “Okay, fine. Let's go on a date first. But don't even think about something fancy. Let's keep it simple.”

With a short laugh, he leans down to give you a quick kiss. “Understood.”

Later in the evening, way past eleven, the two of you finally say goodnight and he returns to his room. There's a message waiting on his phone, one that came from Johnny. “I’ll send her a DM if you won't introduce me,” it says.

“Better not. She's taken,” he replies.

#ghost #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty #simon riley x reader #mw2 #modern warfare #mw3 #john soap mactavish #john mactavish

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deathbyday · 2 months ago

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𖥔not so gen. mouthwashing relations headcanons.𖥔˚

Written By: DeathByDay

TW - death, SA.

Includes: Captain Curly, Daisuke, and Anya

__________

Captain Curly

• This man is 100% a sucker for romance

• I’ve seen some people say that they think that he’s one to be into PDA, but honestly I just don’t see it

• Maybe a few pecks on the cheek or light hand holding, but nothing more

• He just doesn’t seem that type of guy to me

• But in private? That’s a whole different story

• He’s all on you whenever you want him to be or not, especially in the mornings

• I feel like he’d love to hug you from behind while you sleep, his nose pressed against the back of your neck while his arms are wrapped around right underneath your chest

• Would 100% wake up first like c’mon he’s literally a captain, he needs to (much to your dismay)

• But while you’re still asleep he’d plant small kisses on the back of your neck to try to wake you

• If that doesn’t work, then he’d leave the room before coming back soon enough with a cup of your favorite morning drink. Coffee, tea, milk, water, you name it

• If you came to him during a bad day, rest assured he’s gonna take care of you

• He’s running a bath with the exact temperature you wanted, laying out pajamas for you, along with towels. Probably would put bath salt in there too (if you aren’t allergic and like the feeling of it)

• Acts of service and words of affirmation are his love languages, prove me wrong. YOU CANT

• You don’t understand how bad he would feel after the crash

• Like he can’t be there for you and you need to be the one taking care of him. He just feels pathetic

• You sometimes make Jimmy let you give him the painkillers. You wouldn’t be as harsh as him, of course. Just gently slide it on his tongue and help him swallow, not shoving or pushing it down

• Anyways back to pre-crash Curly

• I think he would adore it if you ever planted kisses on his cheek, neck, or forehead (or honestly anywhere else)

• If you’re shorter than him, you’d have to grab his jawline and bring him down to your level to properly kiss. Trust me when I say he would never recover from it

• Loves kissing your neck, especially before you two begin the day together

NSFW

• Y’all cannot tell me this guy isn’t the most gentlest man in bed

• Always asking if you’re comfortable, moving at a reasonable pace until you’re ready, praising you for taking him so well, etc

• He 100% presses down on your stomach to feel how deep he is inside of you

• Gives you neck kisses while he praises you

• #need that

• I think he’d end up being more serious than silly

• Although he would occasionally chuckle at your whimpers and moans, I don’t feel like he’d actually crack a few jokes

Daisuke

• Ten thousand percent blushes at the slightest contact. Even from your hand accidentally rubbing against his he becomes a flustered mess

• Adores PDA, he doesn’t care

• But of course if you don’t, that’s fine

• Just hold his pinky finger and give him a kiss on the cheek from time to time and he’s good to go

• 100% does puppy eyes whenever he wants a kiss

• You guys could just be laying on the lounge area’s couch and he would give you those eyes. Obviously you gave him what he wanted because who wouldn’t

• When you cuddle, I don’t really see him having a favorite position. He could be the big spoon or the little spoon, he’s happy with both

• When he’s the little spoon, he’d have his arms loosely wrapped around your waist. His head would be smushed into your chest, snuggling close

• When he’s the big spoon, he’d almost always have an arm wrapped around your shoulders while being in a starfish position

• Not to mention the snoring. He snores so loud you can’t prove me otherwise. He would sleep with his mouth open, which makes it even worse

• At first, it was tricky getting used to his snoring. But after a month or two of sleeping together, you couldn’t sleep without it

• Definitely not the one to wake up first. Most of the time, you have to drag him out of the bed to get him up and get ready for the day, leading to him whining and groaning

• Physical touch has this man in a chokehold

• Whenever the two of you actually have to work, he’d be so sad to leave you alone

• But after you two finally met up after, he would blabber about what he did, who he talked to, etc. and you would listen to every detail

• 100% the one to say “gyatt” whenever you pass by him. Even if you have a flat ass he still says it

• If you ended up dying before him, this guy would actually become depressed

• We all know he started getting drunk due to the mouthwash, but that is nowhere near how much he drank when you passed away

• If he ended up dying before you, he would promise you a thousand times while he’s bleeding out that he’d wait for you

• But back to fluff

• Whenever you have a bad day, this guy is definitely not leaving you alone

• He’d cuddle you until you literally explode

• If you were to ever kiss him anywhere on his face, he’d be a blushing mess no matter how light it is

• He genuinely doesn’t know what he’s doing and just wings it with you, knowing you’d love him no matter what

NSFW

• He’s definitely a whiner

• You’d have to shut him up by either making out or keeping a hand on his mouth to muffle him

• Soft sex soft sex soft sex

• There’s no way he can take it seriously when you two are in bed. Of course he would try if you were into that, but he’d end up giggling at the end of each sentence

• 100% has a praise kink

• Please tell this man how good he’s doing at keeping you satisfied. He’d be way too embarrassed to do anything more with you if you don’t

Anya

• My poor baby

• She isn’t the best at expressing her love for you, but it’s obvious she loves you so much

• Not very big on PDA, but you do sometimes get a hug or a light peck on the cheek whenever you walk into a room she’s already in

• Will rant to you about how dumb it is that Daisuke won the game in Sorry!. She could honestly go on for hours on end

• You have to calm her down and tell her that it’ll be okay. Never tell her “it’s just a game” because then she’ll get even more upset

• When she found out she was pregnant, she felt terrible. Not just for herself but for you

• What would you think? Assume she’s cheating on you with her assaulter?

• You two were in bed when she finally broke the news to you about Jimmy and the baby. And oh my god you actually almost fought that man

• She had to hold you back from getting up from your spot. After that night, you shot daggers at that man every time you passed him. You didn’t speak to him once, no matter the situation

• You held her in your arms that night, whispering praises into her ear before she finally fell asleep

• Speaking of sleep, she adores being the little spoon while cuddling with you

• Her face smushed into your chest? Your arms wrapped around her, fingers twisting around her hair? It sounded like heaven

• I feel like Anya would be the one to wake up first

• She won’t leave you alone until you did, so it doesn’t take long for you both to be up and ready

• She would mutter petnames against your neck, pleading with you to wake up from your slumber

• 100% makes your favorite drink in the morning and makes it perfect every. single. time

• If you can’t cook, she’ll teach you

• She’s a wonderful teacher and chef. She explains everything to you correctly and soon you actually catch on

• You bake cookies by yourself (under her supervision) and if you burn them, she still praises you like you did everything right

• Whenever you get hurt, even if it’s just a scratch that’s barely bleeding, she cares for you as if you’ve broken a bone

• Both of you are each other’s protectors. She watches out for you, and you watch out for her

NSFW

• She wouldn’t be very talkative, but she would occasionally speak if you ever asked

• Ex: “Use your words, baby.” “Y/N-.. Please..”

• I feel like she’d shed a few tears whenever she becomes overstimulated, or if it’s your first time together

• Let her go as slow as she wants. She’ll eventually become comfortable enough with you, but it’ll take a few attempts

• I’m literally begging you, don’t slam your fingers, dildo/strap, or dick into her. She won’t talk to you for ages

• Don’t do anything harsh while having intercourse. I feel like she’d rather you be soft with her

• She’d be a mix of silly and serious. Drop a few occasional jokes to get her to laugh. But only do that when you two are actually moving at a good pace

• At first, I think she would be serious. If not nervous. But when you guys are finally adjusting to each other, it’s always nice to see her giggle

__________

authors note

I sincerely apologize if anyone was hoping for swansea.. I just couldn’t think of anything for him. Still wanna kiss that grumpy old man though!!

but nonetheless, I hope you all liked this<3

#mouthwashing #mouthwashing game #indie games #mouthwashing x reader #horror games #video games #x reader #writers on tumblr #captain curly x reader #anya x reader mouthwashing #daisuke x reader mouthwashing #captain curly mouthwashing #daisuke mouthwashing #anya mouthwashing

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iuchamjohta · 3 months ago

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Sex Swinger Cruise Part 1 Ft Yuna and Jieun

6497 words

Tags: Foursome, bdsm, exhibitionist, mutual masturbation, anal , DP (Sort of), footjob, petplay, bi.

Didnt proof read this, enjoy, not sure how many parts I will write. but as always give comments likes or anything.

The soft glow of sunlight streamed through your curtains. With a groan, you roll over, reluctantly pulling yourself out of bed. “Fuck, my head hurts” The effects of yesterday hungover was still evident from the amount you drank. The world feels fuzzy as you shuffle to the kitchen, rubbing your eyes and battling the urge to crawl back under the covers.

You pour yourself a steaming cup of coffee, the rich aroma slowly waking up your senses. As you take your first sip, the warmth spreads through you, pushing back the grogginess just a bit. With your mug in hand, you plop down at your cluttered desk and open your laptop, the screen flickering to life.

As you scroll through your emails, half-heartedly scanning the usual promotional messages and updates, something catches your eye—a bright, official-looking email with a subject line that makes your heart race: “Exclusive Invitation: K-Pop Swingers Party!” It was classified as a top secret document that needed your work credentials to open.

You blink twice, half-expecting it to disappear. But there it is, vivid and undeniable. Probably another fucking scam, you rolled your eyes. It seems too good to be true, a potential scam preying on hopeful fans. Just as you're about to close the email, something makes you pause. Your eyes scan down to the signature at the bottom, and your heart skips a beat: “Jieun.”

Jieun—the idol you’ve adored for years, the one whose music has accompanied you through countless moments of joy and sorrow. She signed off the invitation. Your skepticism melts away, replaced by a rush of excitement. This isn’t just any invitation; it’s a chance to be part of something extraordinary, possibly even a chance to meet her.

With your fingers trembling you quickly keyed your credentials opening the docuement. The email details an upcoming sex swinger party for selected K-pop groups in the 2024-2025 edition. The timeline outlined a week-long program filled with performances and offered an open invitation for select photographers to capture the festivities.

The party is set to take place on one of the most luxurious cruise ships in the world, renowned for its luxurious amenities and breathtaking ocean views. Your fingers tremble as you scrolled, reading the instructions to bring your camera to capture exclusive footage of the event.

As a junior photographer in the K-Pop industry, you’ve spent countless hours honing your craft, capturing shots as best as you could of celebrities. Though your work has garnered some attention online, you have always been rather under the radar. You were appreciative of this opportunity.

Further down, you notice a clause about confidentiality: “By accepting this invitation, you agree that all images taken during the event cannot be disclosed elsewhere without prior consent. Failure to comply will result in death.”

Your heart races as you realize you’ll need to sign your acceptance of these terms. “Death” you could understand the seriousness , as any leakage would destroy all of the idol's image. Without hesitation you signed the disclosure.

The thought of being on a luxury cruise with your favorite idols feels surreal. Your mind races with possibilities: capturing candid shots of their candidness, documenting behind-the-scenes moments, and most importantly uncovering the true personalities behind their polished images, the true depravity hidden in them.

You feel your cock hardened against your boxers, as your mind drifts to your fantasies.

After a moment of silence, you begin gathering your gear , carefully checking each lens and memory card making sure you had more than enough space to capture footage.

When the day finally arrives,you arrive at the designated port early and step aboard the luxury cruise ship after showing your invitation to the security.

The moment you enter, you’re struck by the beauty of the interior: elegant chandeliers hang from the ceilings and how spacious the whole ship actually is. You take a moment to soak it all in, your heart racing at the thought of what’s to come.

Remembering the schedule, you check your phone and see that the opening ceremony is about to begin. You decide to head to your room first to drop off your gear and freshen up. The corridors are lined with plush carpets, and as you make your way to your suite, you can’t help but admire the luxurious touches everywhere—marble accents, golden fixtures, and vibrant flowers that add a touch of warmth to the elegant design.

Once you reach your room, you unlock the door and step inside. The space is even more breathtaking than you imagined: a spacious layout with a large window offering a panoramic view of the ocean. You quickly set your camera bag down and take a moment to breathe before assembling your full camera gear to capture the opening event.

Doing a quick refresh, you check your reflection, ensuring you look both stylish and casual. You grab your camera and make your way back to the main deck where the opening ceremony is set to take place.

The main deck was ridiculously spacious. A massive stage dominates the area, with many big screens around that would capture the stage shows.

You scan the crowd, your heart racing at the sight of some of the biggest names in K-pop gathered in one place. Members of G-IDLE are chatting cutely nearby, dressed in their skimpy summer outfits from klaxton.

You catch glimpses of IVE, effortlessly exuding confidence with their stylish outfits. Aespa is clustered together, each member looking stunning in cocktail dresses. Not too far off, you spot Red Velvet, their playful energy a stark contrast to the elegance around them. And there’s ITZY, radiating friendliness and charm as they greet fans and fellow idols. Tons of other people were here, some managers, some fans but mostly people you have not seen.

Everywhere you look, the members are as beautiful as you imagined and you quickly snapped a few shorts. But amidst the excitement, you realize you haven’t seen Jieun anywhere. A slight twinge of disappointment hits you, but you quickly push it aside, focusing instead on the spectacle unfolding before you.

Suddenly, the lights dim, and a hush falls over the crowd. A sense of anticipation fills the air, and you grip your camera tightly, ready for what’s to come. Then, out of nowhere, a spotlight beams down onto the stage, illuminating the figure standing in its glow.

Your heart skips a beat as you finally spotted Jieun, looking absolutely radiant. Dressed in a stunning outfit that sparkles under the lights, she stands with grace and confidence, her smile brightening the entire deck. The crowd erupts into cheers, and you instinctively raise your camera, capturing the moment.

As the cheers of the crowd settle, Jieun steps forward to the microphone, her presence commanding the attention of everyone on deck. She beams at the audience, her energy infectious, and you can’t help but feel a rush of excitement.

“Hello, everyone! Welcome aboard our luxury cruise for what promises to be an unforgettable week!” she says, her voice filled with mischief. The crowd erupts in applause, and you quickly snap a few candid shots of her glowing with enthusiasm.

We have an incredible lineup of events planned for you, from exciting games and performances to meet-and-greets with your favourite artists,” she continues, her eyes sparkling with joy.

As she gestures toward the expansive deck, she explains the layout. “To your left, we have the pool area, perfect for relaxing and soaking up the sun. Over there, to the right, is the lounge where you can unwind and grab some refreshments. And don’t forget to check out the dining hall, where we’ll be serving delicious meals throughout our journey!”

Jieun’s smile widens as she continues her orientation. “Now, beyond the common areas, we have some exciting options for those of you looking for a more unique experience!”

She gestures toward the screen showcasing a series of beautifully decorated doors lining the corridor. “You can book private rooms for gatherings or even themed rooms tailored to specific fantasies!”

“ You can even request any type of additional toys and equipment and it will be delivered to your room. “ She gives a wink with that last remark.

Jieun’s eyes sparkle with excitement as she leans in closer to the microphone, as if sharing a secret. “Now, I have to let you in on a little secret: the most exciting themed rooms are located at the top few levels of the ship,” she says, and the audience leans forward in anticipation.

“But there’s a catch!” she adds with a teasing smile. “Access to these exclusive rooms comes with earning your rights. How? You may ask.”

With a playful glint in her eyes, Jieun clicks a button on the podium, and suddenly, a flurry of lights dances around the crowd. The crowd gasps as each of their guest’s access card illuminates and materializes a holographic display in mid-air.

“Welcome to your personalized adventure!” she announces.The holograms shimmer and shift, revealing each guest's unique access card. As you look closer, you see various levels displayed, each indicating the rights and privileges you’ve earned.

“Each card comes with specific missions you can complete throughout the week,” Jieun explains. “These missions range from fun challenges to interactive games, and completing them will unlock higher levels of access to the exclusive themed rooms at the top of the ship!”

Your heart races as you see different missions pop up on your card. There were a range of tamed activities like “Capture a selfie with your favourite idol” “participate in the talent show” “Join a themed scavenger hunt” to things that were more explicit like “Pleasure 5 females” “paint someone’s face with your cum” “willingly serve an idol till they are satisfied”

The list was endless and you can’t help but feel a rush of excitement at the possibilities. Jieun points to the holographic display. “The more you participate, the more rights you earn! Levels range from ‘Explorer’ to ‘VIP,’ with each level granting access to even more exclusive experiences. Who’s ready to level up?” Jieun added which enticed a roar from the crowd.

As the excitement of the opening ceremony swirls around you, you take a quick look at your holographic access card, which still hovers brightly in front of you. The word “Explorer” is emblazoned across the top, and below it, a clear breakdown of the different tiers unfolds.

Taking a quick summary, the break down was

Explorer: Basic access to common areas and entry-level missions. Perfect for first-timers.

Adventurer: Unlocks additional activities and some themed rooms with opportunities for one-on-one interactions

Trailblazer: Grants access to exclusive events and private closed events with idols. Can initiate private bookings with Idols

VIP: The highest level, providing full access to all themed rooms, private events, and special perks throughout the cruise.Can even call for idols below your tier to service you.

As you study your holographic access card, you notice something intriguing above the VIP level: there are additional tiers, but they are currently blocked, shrouded in mystery. The words “Exclusive Access” flash briefly before fading away, leaving you curious.

As you take a quick glance around the deck, you notice that many of the idols seem to be at the Trailblazer or even VIP levels.

“Time to earn my stripes,” you murmur to yourself, tucking the holograph back into your pocket, ready to embrace whatever comes next.

Jieun pauses, looking around at the audience who were playing around with the holographic before her angelic voice captured the audience again.

“Make sure you are always ready– you never know what surprises will come.”

You were curious how much all of this cost, probably a few millions and to find out that it is an annual event is rather shocking to you.

As your thoughts wander off, Jieun steps back up to the microphone, her expression glowing with enthusiasm. “Alright, everyone! It’s time for the main event!” she announces, her voice ringing out over the deck.

The crowd erupts into cheers, the anticipation palpable as everyone shifts their focus to the stage. You can feel the energy crackling in the air, and you raise your camera, ready to capture the moment. With that, the lights dim and after a few minutes it comes on again.

Jieun has changed her outfit. The petite singer with an angelic face, now exuded a dominant presence.

She was every inch the sexual goddess, dressed in a black leather corset, fishnet stockings, and knee-high boots that emphasised her slender legs. Her long, cascaded over her shoulders, contrasting with her pale skin. IU held two leather leashes in her hands, a mischievous smile playing on her lips as she surveyed the room.

Her eyes rested momentarily on your captivated gaze. With a playful wink she once again addresses the audience, her persona different now. Her stage presence is no joke as it commands the attention of every person in the room.

“Welcome my naughty playmates. Tonight, I have a special treat for you all. But first, let me introduce my beautiful assistant, Yuna."

Yuna, a stunning redhead with an hourglass figure, stepped into the spotlight. She was already fully naked and the crowd's attention shifted to admire her body.

"Yuna here is a little shy," Jieun continued, "But I'm going to help her overcome her inhibitions. Aren't I, sweetheart?" Yuna nodded nervously, her eyes darting around the room, taking in the hungry stares of the audience.

As she spoke, the curtains behind parted , and a table was rolled into the centre of the stage. On it, a custom-made sybian rider stood tall, its sleek black surface glistening under the stage lights. This mechanical pleasure device was the centerpiece of the show, designed to bring intense orgasms to whoever rode it. Jieun approached the sybian, her steps graceful and confident.

With practiced ease, Jieun secured Yuna to the sybian rider, binding her wrists and ankles with soft silk ropes, ensuring she couldn't escape the impending pleasure. The crowd cheered as they witnessed the vulnerable position Yuna was in, completely at Jieun's mercy. Yuna’s nipples hardeend under the gaze of the eager crowd.

Meanwhile you were capturing as many shots as you can as a treasure trove to keep. Your breath caught in your throat as you feast your eyes on Yuna's beauty. Her long red hair fell in waves over her shoulders, framing her flawless face.

The curves of her body were accentuated by the binds to the sybian that forced her to arch backwards slightly pushing her chest forward. This position emphasised her full breasts and the swell of her hips. You could feel your raging erection already.

Jieun circled the sybian, running her fingers along Yuna's bound body, teasing her captive. She leaned in close, whispering something in Yuna's ear that made the redhead's cheeks flush with desire.

"Now, my dear Yuna, let's see how well you can handle this machine," Jieun purred, her fingers trailing along Yuna's inner thighs, making the redhead squirm. With a flick of a switch, the sybian rider came to life.

The machine started at a slow, gentle pace, its vibrations humming softly. Yuna's eyes fluttered shut, and a soft moan escaped her lips as the sensations began to build. IU stood by her side, stroking Yuna's hair, her touch both comforting and arousing.

As the sybian's intensity increased, Yuna's moans grew louder, filling the room with erotic music. Her hips began to move in rhythm with the machine, her body arching and undulating as the pleasure coursed through her. IU watched with satisfaction, her eyes gleaming with the power she held over her submissive partner.

Clicking onto another control button, the Sybian’s dildo started thrusting upwards, pushing its way into Yuna’s cunt, making sloppy sounds as it entered.

"Let's make this more interesting," Jieun announced to the crowd, her voice dripping with sensuality. "Who here has the skill to pleasure a goddess while I tend to my pet?"

Two men stepped forward from the audience, their eyes locked on IU with a mixture of desire and awe. One was tall and muscular, with dark hair, and the other was lean and tattooed. Both were eager to serve IU's pleasure.

Jieun attached the collar and leash she held in her hand to each of the men, and they obediently dropped to their knees. Undressing her black leather corset, she was now naked but with her boots and stockings still on , which made her even more sexy.

Tugging on the leash, the dark-haired man was made to position himself behind Jieun. Jieun grinds her ass on his face as his tongue willingly traced circles around her tight asshole. Meanwhile the tattooed man dove between her legs, his mouth seeking her swollen clit.

The crowd roared with approval as Jieun let out a moan of pleasure, her body trembling under the skilled attention of her oral servants. She gripped the leashes tightly, controlling their movements as they pleasured her.

While Jieun savored the sensations, she never took her eyes off Yuna, who was now riding the sybian in her restricted room of motion. The redhead's body shook as she chased her orgasm, her cries filling the room. Jieun reached out, pinching Yuna's nipples between her fingers, twisting and pulling them gently, heightening her pleasure even further.

Yuna's breath came in gasps as she neared the edge of release. Jieun however knew exactly how to push her submissive to the brink, only to pull her back just before the climax. With a cruel smile, IU reduced the sybian's speed, denying Yuna the orgasm she so desperately craved.

"Please... let me cum," Yuna begged.

"Not yet, my pet. We're just getting started. Cant ruin the show now can we? " Jieun chuckled in response.

The men servicing Jieun were relentless in their efforts, their tonguesl were working in perfect harmony. IU's moans grew louder, her body shaking as she neared her own climax. She tugged on the leashes, urging her oral slaves to give her more, to drive her to the edge.

As Jieun's orgasm built, so did Yuna's. The sybian's vibrations increased once more, and Jieun released Yuna's nipples, moving her hands down to her sensitive pussy. She plunged two fingers deep inside Yuna's wetness alongside the dildo, finding her G-spot and massaging it with expert precision and stretching her fully.

Yuna's body trembled uncontrollably, her eyes rolling back as the pleasure became almost unbearable. She screamed, her voice raw and primal, as she could no longer hold her orgasm which finally exploded within her. Her pussy clenched around Jieun's fingers, and she squirted, her juices gushing onto the stage, splashing the front row of the audience.

The crowd went wild, cheering and whistling as Yuna's orgasmic convulsions continued. Jieun, still being pleasured by her devoted men, watched with satisfaction as her submissive's body shook and quivered.

Jieun’s own release was building, her breath coming in short gasps. She tugged on the leashes, signaling her slaves to increase their efforts. The dark-haired man drove his tongue deep into IU's ass , swirling his tongue to taste every inch of her walls. Meanwhile the tattooed man sucked on her clit, and thrusted two fingers into her throbbing cunt, bringing her to the brink.

"Yes... yes... YES!" Jieun cried out, her body convulsing as her orgasm hit her like a wave. Her juices flowed, coating the faces of her devoted servants as they continued to pleasure her through her climax.

“Naughty girl, cumming without my permission” Jieun coming back to her senses and flicked the switch to increase the sybian speed once again

The sybian's relentless rhythm continued to pulsate through Yuna's body, the dildo thrusting deep into her wet pussy, each movement sending waves of pleasure coursing through her veins.

Jieun, the insatiable singer, stood before the crowd , her eyes gleaming with lust. With a firm grip on the leashes, she commanded the two men who had been worshipping her body, "Serve Yuna now”

Obediently, the men redirected their attention to the bound redhead. The dark hair man stepped forward, his cock throbbing eagerly. Jieun guided him to Yuna's luscious ass, spreading her cheeks with her delicate fingers exposing her delicate rosebud hidden beneath the valleys.

"Take her here instead," she instructed

The man positioned himself behind Yuna, his cockhead pressing against her tight asshole. With a gentle push, he entered her, eliciting a moan of pleasure from Yuna's lips. It was tough to push through given how tight it was and he stayed in that position for a moment to give Yuna time to adjust.

Simultaneously, the other tattooed man, approached Yuna's face, his cock already glistening with pre-cum. Jieun urged him forward, and he plunged his throbbing length into Yuna's waiting mouth. Yuna's eyes rolled back as she accommodated the thick shaft, her lips sliding along the veiny surface. The tatooed man held her head firmly, thrusting his hips in a steady rhythm, face fucking the bound beauty.

Jieun, ever the exhibitionist, couldn't resist joining the erotic display. She stepped closer to Yuna, her fingers trailing along the redhead's sweat-glistening body. With a playful smirk, IU spanked Yuna's ass, the sound echoing through the room, causing the audience to gasp in delight. "Such a good girl," IU purred, her hand moving to her own pussy, stroking her clit as she watched the men use Yuna's body.

The men's movements became more frantic as they neared their climax. The dark-haired man fucking her ass was well adjusted and had began increasing the speed of his thrust as well, plunging deep into her tight ass. Yuna's body trembled, her pussy clenching around the sybian's dildo, her ass tightening around the dark-haired man's cock. She was being airtight filled and every thrust of both men only pushed her deeper into the other’s cock.

Sensing their impending release, Jieun dropped to her knees, tugging at the men's cocks, urging them to empty their loads. The dark-haired man groaned, his hips thrusting wildly as he filled Yuna's ass with his hot cum. Simultaneously, the tattooed pulled out of Yuna's mouth, his cock pulsating as Jieun stroked him with expert hands. He aimed his throbbing head at Jieun's mouth, and with a final stroke, he exploded, his cum shooting onto Jieun's tongue.

Jieun savored the taste of his release, her eyes closing in pleasure. She swallowed, then opened her eyes, meeting Yuna's gaze. With a mischievous smile, she dove into Yuna’s asshole and ate the cum right out of it, cleaning her completely.

Then moving up, she leaned forward and kissed Yuna, their lips locking in a passionate embrace. The crowd roared as they witnessed the cum swap, the women’s tongues intertwining sharing the essence of the male slaves.

Pulling away, Jieun untied Yuna from the sybian helping her weakened body off it. The crowd applauded at the incredible performance.

‘"That was incredible," Yuna breathed, her eyes fixed on Jieun's petite frame. "I've never been used like that before." IU grinned, her fingers trailing along Yuna's collarbone. "You were amazing, my dear.”

“Can I return the favour unnie” Yuna pleaded looking at Jieun with her big puppy eyes.

“What do you have in mind?” Without answering with her words, Yuna stepped closer, her hands roamed over Jieun full breast, before taking one of the hardened buds into her mouth , eagerly sucking on them, eliciting a moan from Jieun.

“I want to taste you Unnie” With that she guided Jieun onto the table and pushed her thighs apart as she knelt down so that her face was on eye level with IU’s pussy.

Yuna’s fingers dove into the wet folds, eliciting another sharp moan from the petite girl. Soon her tongue replaced her fingers lapping eagerly at Jieun’s swollen clit. Throughout the whole session, Yuna's pleasure was prioritised and she wanted to pay back her Unnie well.

Yuna’s tongue was so good that Jieun began thrusting her hips forward to meet Yuna’s mouth, her hands gripping scratching the table surface as Yuna continued to lap eagerly to drive her towards the edge. The room filled with the sounds of their pleasure—Jieun’s moans and Yuna's soft, wet noises as she devoured her partner.

As Jieun’s orgams built, Yuna mischievously inserted a finger into her tight asshole , causing the sexual goddess to cry out.

“Oh , Yuna! Yes, just like that”

Jieun's body convulsed, her pussy clenching around Yuna's tongue as she came, her juices flowing freely.

Yuna continued to lap at Jieun's sensitive clit, prolonging her pleasure. When Jieun finally collapsed, her body trembling, Yuna crawled up her length, their bodies aligning.

“You’re so beautiful” Yuna whispered, her lips finding Jieun again in another passionate kiss.

With that the curtains closed on the stage. As the curtains closed, the audience erupted into applause, their cheers echoing through the venue. You check your camera footage which had now been switched to video mode and it was a good 30 minutes of crazy footage. You were satisfied and couldn't wait to review them.

When Jieun reappeared she was dressed in a tight white dress. She clapped her hands and exclaimed, "Let the party begin!" Her excitement was infectious, and soon everyone was buzzing with energy. Friends gathered, laughter filled the air, and people were downing drinks. You see couples moving off to their own rooms and some idols picking up some men here and there. It was too much to keep track of everything.

As you sip on your drink, your eyes wander across the room, taking in the lavish decorations and the beautiful people. You were wondering where to start when you spotted Jieun, your favourite idol. She's standing by the buffet table, her slender legs accentuated by a tight fitting dress. You can't help but notice her, and your gaze lingers a little too long.

Unbeknownst to you, Jieun has caught you staring, and a mischievous smile plays on her lips. She finishes her conversation with a group of admirers and begins to make her way through the crowd, heading straight in your direction. Your heart races as she approaches, her hips swaying gracefully with each step.

"You've been staring at me all night, even when I'm on stage" she purrs.

“Who would not, Jieun you are fucking gorgeous” you instinctively replied.

“Time to get better acquainted then” Before you can respond, she takes your hand, her touch sending a jolt of electricity through your body. You allow yourself to be led away, your desire overwhelming any resistance. IU guides you through a side door, away from the bustling party to the front of a secret elevator.

As Jieun reached into her pocket, she pulled out an eye-catching access card, black and gold. The words "Queen Card" were elegantly embossed on it. She smiled, holding it up playfully. “Looks like I’ve got the royal treatment,” she teased, winking at you. With a flick of her wrist, she swiped the card at the elevator and pressed the top floor.

“Top floor” damn you wondered what kind of privileges Jieun had. The elevator door opened to reveal an exclusive lounge filled with plush seating and ambient lighting. “Welcome to my kingdom,” she said, stepping inside.

The room is expansive, with high ceilings adorned with intricate chandeliers that cast a warm, golden glow. Plush, deep-colored sofas are arranged invitingly around a sleek, modern coffee table, and rich tapestries hang on the walls, adding an air of elegance.

In one corner, there’s a small bar area stocked with an array of top-shelf liquors, colourful glassware catching the light. In another corner of the room, a sleek, large-screen monitor is mounted discreetly. As you admire the space, Jieun casually gestures toward it, and with a soft beep, the monitor glides down effortlessly from the ceiling, filling the wall with a crisp, vibrant display.

You noticed nobody else was here and remembered that even within VIP , when you had clicked on it earlier you were unable to view further information and only showed you restricted access. Queencard was definitely not one of those tiers.

“Let’s review some of the footage you captured shall we?” As you stand beside her you could only produce a nod still captivated by her beauty. She was a vision of perfection and you did not fully process what she meant until you subconsciously took out the SD card and handed it over to her.

“Wait what” You snapped back to reality, you were amused at how much control this woman had over you.

Jieun's fingers dance across the remote control, and the large screen in the room flickers to life. The footage is crystal clear, a close-up of her naked body, writhing in ecstasy.

The footage shows that most of the focus of the entire video was on her even when Yuna was being pleasured by the two men. You were embarrassed having failed at your professionality and letting your biasness shaped your filming.

As the video plays, you witness IU's hands gliding over her own body, her fingers teasing her nipples, causing them to harden. Her moans fill the room, soft and breathy, as she touches herself, building up the tension.

Your eyes are glued to the screen, and alternated between her and the screen watching her every move. You see IU's hand disappear between her thighs, and she begins to rub her pussy lips slowly, her fingers dipping into her wetness. The sight of her masturbating is incredibly arousing, and you feel your cock twitch in response. You reach down and start stroking yourself, unable to resist the urge to touch your hardening length.

IU notices your action and lets out a soft, sultry laugh. "Oh, baby, you like what you see?"

"Go ahead, stroke that cock for me. But remember, I'm in control tonight."

You continue to pleasure yourself, your strokes becoming more urgent as the video progresses. IU's fingers work their magic on her clit, and she arches her back, her moans growing louder. She's a vision of pleasure, and you desperately want to join her.

"I bet you want to fuck me, don't you?" She teases, her eyes never leaving the screen. "You want to pound this tight pussy of mine. But not yet, you have to earn your rights to the VIP tier first”

With those words, she pauses the video, leaving the image of her fingers buried deep in her pussy imprinted on the screen. IU turns to you, her eyes sparkling with lust. She takes your hand and places it on her waist, guiding it lower until your fingers brush against the soft skin of her inner thigh.

"Start here," she whispers, her breath hot against your ear. "Worship my legs, kiss and lick every inch of them. Make me feel your devotion."

You kneel before her, your cock throbbing as you gaze up at her beautiful face. Her legs are toned and smooth, a perfect canvas for your worship. You start by gently kissing the sensitive skin behind her knees, feeling her muscles quiver under your touch. Slowly, you work your way up, kissing and sucking on her inner thighs, leaving a trail of wetness with your mouth. Slowly, you work your way up, kissing and sucking on her inner thighs, leaving a trail of wetness with your mouth.

Jieun’s breath becomes ragged as your lips get closer to her core. She pulls away and sticks out her perfect feet , giving you a full view of them. Her toes are slender and delicate.

"Suck my toes," she instructs, her voice husky with desire. "Show me how much you've been craving this."

You lean forward, your mouth watering at the prospect. You take her big toe between your lips, sucking gently at first, then with increasing fervor. Her taste—had a unique flavor which sends shivers of pleasure through you. You move to the next toe, lavishing attention on each one, savoring the feel of her against your tongue.

IU lets out a soft moan, her eyes fluttering closed as she enjoys the sensations. "That's it... suck them clean," she encourages, her breath coming in short gasps.

You obey eagerly, taking each toe into your mouth, using your tongue to clean her and leaving them glistening with your saliva. Your hands roam up her calves, squeezing the firm muscle there, as you continue to worship her feet.

Moving lower, you go to her soles. Sliding your tongue along the smooth arch of her foot, relishing the taste of her skin. You work your way to the heel, paying attention to every inch, until her entire foot is glistening with your devotion.

“That's it, you're doing so well," she praises, running her fingers through your hair. Pulling you higher up through your hair, Your tongue finally reaches the junction where her thigh meets her pussy. You pause as if waiting for permission.

“Go ahead you have earned the right to taste me”

You can't resist dipping your tongue into her warm, wet folds. Jieun tastes like heaven, her juices flowing freely as you tease her clit with gentle flicks of your tongue. She bucks her hips, pushing her pussy into your face, seeking more pleasure.

"Oh fuck, yes! Eat me, baby," she cries out, her hands gripping your hair, urging you closer.

You feast on her, lapping up her sweetness, exploring every crease and crevice of her pussy. IU's moans fill the room, a mixture of pleasure and desperation. Her legs tremble as she teeters on the edge of orgasm, and she pulls you closer, grinding her pussy against your mouth.

"I'm gonna cum... oh god, I'm cumming!" she shouts, her body shaking uncontrollably.

Her orgasm hits like a wave, and you feel her juices flow over your tongue, a sweet reward for your devotion. IU collapses against you, her body trembling as the pleasure subsides. She smiles down at you, her eyes filled with satisfaction.

"That was incredible," she breathes, stroking your hair. “I have another treat for you”

Jieun shoves you through your chest down onto the floor and straddles your laps. Then she hovers over your face, her bare pussy hovering just above your mouth. Instead she moves forward more and plants her ass onto your face.

"Now, it's time for you to taste my ass,"

Your tongue extending to lick at her tight, pink hole. IU gasps at the contact, her body trembling with anticipation. You explore her forbidden entrance, circling your tongue around her anus, tasting her saltiness. She rocks her hips, encouraging you to delve deeper.

"Yes, just like that," she moans, her head thrown back in pleasure. "I want to feel your tongue inside me."

You oblige, pushing your tongue past the tight ring of muscle, penetrating her depths. IU cries out, her hands gripping the couch cushions as you rim her with abandon. Her ass is tight and warm, clenching around your tongue, driving her wild with desire.

"Fuck, yes! I love it," she exclaims, her body moving in rhythm with your licks.

“Now, i think it's time for the main event” With her ass stick planted down on your face, she shifted her position a little to find a balance so that her feet are now hovering over your throbbing cock. This position shifts her centre of gravity to her ass smothering you further with it.

"I'm going to give you the foot job of your dreams," she teases, running her soles up and down your length, making you twitch and leak pre-cum.

She takes one foot and wraps it around your shaft, her toes curling to hold you in place. Then, with slow, deliberate movements, she begins to stroke you, using her foot to glide up and down, her toes brushing against your sensitive glans.

"Oh fuck, that's amazing," a muffled groan was heard, your hands clutching at her ass cheeks to balance her and to also anchor yourself as she drives you wild but mainly so you wouldn’t suffocate.

Jieun switches feet, using the other to stroke you, her toes massaging and teasing your sensitive skin. Her feet are soft and warm, and the sensation of her soles sliding over your cock is unlike anything you've ever experienced.

Jieun giggles, the sound sending a thrill through your body. "You like that, huh? Wait till you feel this."

Putting both of her feet together , she creates a small pocket between her holes. Plating your cock in between she begins to move her feet again, stroking your cock with long, slow motions. The combination of her feet on your sensitive flesh and her moans of pleasure is too much to bear.

"I'm gonna cum!" you warn her, your voice muffled by her ass still

"Not yet," she teases, quickening the pace. "I want you to hold on... I want to feel your hot cum all over my feet."

You grit your teeth, trying to delay the inevitable as she continues to stroke you with her feet, her toes curling and uncurling around your tip whenever she reaches the top. But the sensation is too intense, and with a loud groan, you surrender to the pleasure.

Jieun lets out a triumphant laugh as your cum erupts, coating her feet with your release. She rubs your cum into her skin, massaging it between her toes. IU lifted herself off you, giving you room to finally breathe.

“That was incredible” you breathe, your body tingling with post-orgasmic bliss.

Leaning forward, she uses her fingers to scoop some of the cum from her feet and brings it to her mouth savouring it while staring at you , giving you a playful wink. I’m glad you enjoyed it,You are pretty good yourself.”

You stare at her beauty , just enjoying the moment.

“You get to fuck me once you get to VIP tier” She breaks the silence before leaning towards you closing the gap and reaching into your pocket to pull out your own access card. Tapping her queen card on yours, a notification pops up immediately on your holographics stating “Adventurer tier unlocked”

“A little gift for you, enjoy yourself and see you soon.”

Gathering all your stuff you navigate your way back to your room and crash onto the bed exhausted but with a goal in mind tommorrow. Suddenly a notification pops up on your holographic card. It’s a selfie of Jieun, with her exorbitant beauty. The caption reads, “Check your pocket!” Attached to the end of a message was a file.

Curious you reached into your pocket and noticed it was her black laced thong she was wearing in the opening ceremony. She had managed to slip them into your pocket when she had reached for your access card.

“Have fun with the video too!” The message at the end read.

Opening the file, apparently Jieun had recorded the whole session with you. Playing it, you started wrapping her black thong around your shaft and stroking it, imagining it was her stroking you. You were now more determined than ever to climb your way through and give her a night she will never forget , but for now it has been a fruitful first day and you drifted slowly off to sleep.

To be continued....

Enjoy lads! Comments are always appreciated. On the side note the 1k special fic is ready will release it soon. Cheers as always for req/commission check the masterlist for info.

#kpop smut #iu smut #iu soloist #lee jieun #kpop #yuna smut #itzy smut #ive smut #gidle smut #red velvet smut #aespa smut

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delusionsofgrandeur13 · 9 months ago

Text

ex boyfriend!dick grayson is distraught.

it’s been two weeks, three days, ten hours, and seven minutes since the two of you broke up. not that anyone is counting.

his days are spent with him walking around like a zombie.

batman has to practically yell into the comms link to even get a reply during patrol. dick’s not even sure he’s been putting his suit on properly. two nights ago he only went out with one escrima stick. he almost lost a fight with some goons, and one of them asked him if he had a death wish. he went home bruised, his lip bloodied, wondering if maybe he did have a death wish.

he tried going out to the store. he was out of shaving cream and eggs. dick made it as far as the produce section. he had a staring contest with the apples for ten minutes, and left without buying anything.

the first week he kept wearing hats. seeing his hair in the mirror practically made his eye twitch with the memory of you running your hands through it. he could almost hear you cooing over how nice it looks long.

“dick, you look so handsome! are you growing it out? dick, you look so handsome! are you growing it out? dick, you look so handsome! are you growing it out? dick, you look so handsome! are you growing it out? dick you look so—”

he cuts it a week later, sick of his brothers making fun of him for the hats and sick of your voice in his ear.

he barely touches his hair now, his hands nothing compared to the way yours felt on his scalp. almost every other night he cries in the shower, thinking about the way your eyes would flash when you’d offer to wash his hair for him. you’d always bite your lip in this cute way when you slicked all his hair back, the soap fluffy in your hands. you’d wiggle your eyebrows and call him distinguished, and then pull it up into a mohawk and tell him to call up jason and ask to join the outlaws. a few nights ago he made the mistake of looking at your razor, still on the shower caddy. he cried so hard his head hurt the next morning like he’d had a hangover.

his family stops whispering when he enters rooms, their worry and concern growing more obvious by the day. alfred won’t stop feeding him. bruce keeps looking him over, his eyebrows furrowed. jason left at least four self help books on his coffee table and in his cubby in the batcave. tim took over all of the video surveillance batman had assigned him, waving him away when dick tried to insist it was okay, and that he could do it. steph wouldn’t stop high fiving him? cass hugged him, at least three times. wally tried to get him to go out, but dick drank one beer and left, walking home in the pouring rain like he was in a music video. wally took the hint, but started texting him good morning, every day. even damian stopped picking on him, instead asking to spar just so dick would have something else to think about. it didn’t work, obviously, but he’d mussed damian’s hair, giving him a wan smile on the way out of the practice room. he’d left immediately after.

he spent the rest of the day at home thinking about how he’d always let you win when the two of you would play wrestle. you had this expression you’d make right before, where your eyes would squint a little and the corner of your mouth would turn up. the whole time you’d dated, dick was never able to figure out if it was because you were about to play fight or fuck. he loved it.

his nights are full of tossing and turning.

he spent the first week not washing his sheets, sleeping face down on your side of the bed. the second week he washed his sheets every night, trying to rid his nose of the phantom smell of you. the pillowcase you used is shoved deep into his linen cabinet. he now sleeps on the couch. he had to wash all of his t shirts too, the ones you’d steal to wear to bed with nothing under. he rummaged through his dresser in his old room in Wayne Manor hoping to find ones to wear that didn’t smell like you. ones that didn’t make him think of you pulling them off in the middle of the night, to then sink down onto his cock. you’d toss it onto the ground while you straddled him, smiling down at him.

he couldn’t sit and watch tv without thinking of all the times he’d gone down on you on the couch.

couldn’t brush his teeth without seeing the last time he’d bent you over the sink, thrusting into you while your breath fogged the bathroom mirror.

he couldn’t go out to eat at any of the restaurants by his apartment without seeing the two of you at a table, you stealing one of his fries or swapping sandwiches to try the other’s order.

he still couldn’t go to the little family-owned grocery store, not when the old couple that ran it knew both of you by name.

couldn’t look at his keys without seeing the keychains you’d bought him.

his every waking moment was spent with thinking of you, all you, always you.

you were everywhere,

he thought about how you’d beamed when he’d first asked you out, your eyes shining when you’d nodded yes.

how surprised you’d looked when he finally told you he was nightwing, and how you made him pinky swear to be careful.

he couldn’t appreciate enough how you had always been gracious when he’d show up late to dates, bruce always needing his help with something or other.

he thought of the way you’d looked washing the dishes, up to your elbows in suds when he’d roll in from the window, coming up behind you to kiss you and push you over to the couch while he’d finished the dishes, still in his nightwing suit.

what you’d looked like when you opened the promise ring he got you, and showed you his matching one. you’d both gotten teary eyed then.

the way you tried to hide the fact you’d been crying when he came home from patrol one night.

when your expression would change after he’d tell you he had to miss a family dinner at your mom’s house. you thought he wouldn’t notice but c’mon, he was trained by batman.

how your face had crumpled like his heart did when he had realized what he needed to do. when he had said he loved you more than anything, but knew that you deserved to be treated better, and that he couldn’t give you that right now. couldn’t give you all of his time like he wanted to.

you’d accepted it, nodding while tears slipped down your cheeks silently, walking out of his apartment to go stay at your mom’s house.

it’d been two weeks, three days, ten hours, and seven minutes, yet dick hadn’t accepted it. and your toothbrush was still next to his. so he didn’t think you’d really accepted it either.

but yet, you were now nowhere.

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hazelfoureyes · 11 months ago

Text

A boiling frog (Alastor x Reader smut)

saw someone talk about “boiling frog syndrome”, when a situation becomes dire so slowly you don’t realize how dangerous it is until it’s too late, like a frog slipping into death as the cold water comes to a boil, never trying to leap out. Made me think of Louisiana frog legs and, of course, our self obsessed deer demon. my longwinded ass used restraint and went for a PWP (I hope…. No, theres still plot. I’m a slut for plot. Sorry?)

Your companionship was peppered onto Alastor so gently and slowly he didn’t realize he was too far gone until he was hopelessly dependent on your attention. He decides the only remedy is to drown you in his.

tags/warnings/promises: Alastor x fem reader, cunnilingus, biting, work attire, realistic descriptions of yet another job I once had, fingering, mentions of my favorite alcoholic beverage, southern shit, filing, that asshole in room 127

Minors DNI

When you first arrived at the hotel, Alastor was pleased to have some help. Charlie informed him of your experience on earth managing apartments and how you would be taking on the role of ‘Resident Relations Manager’. Any issues, complaints, or room adjustments would go to you first. Marvelous. As his underling, you often came to him with your own gripes and stories of the latest drama around the hotel. It became a sort of ritual to meet at the bar after work, talking about the day’s trivial matters over two fingers of rye and a cassis orange. One morning you joined him for coffee in the sunroom he added shortly after your arrival, silently enjoying the view. Then you returned the next day. At some point you started filling his mug and bringing it to the chair he always used. Neither of you spoke, which he found refreshing.

The group dinners were never his scene, the familiarity they bore was uncomfortable and dangerous to his plans. But he overheard your laughter as you and Angel teased each other about what could or couldn’t be defined as a kink. When he joined the table, he was pleasantly surprised at the in-depth conversations you sparked among the band of hopeless fools he’d come to enjoy.

So when he entered the sunroom one morning to see his cup, but not you, it ruffled his fur, so to speak. At dinner, he heard from Charlie you were eating in your office. The bar was full of residents and yet empty all the same when you never arrived.

Three days was all it took. Three days of not seeing you. When he walked past the bar at 9pm to see just Angel and Husk, he continued onward until in the safety of the darkened hall. Licking his teeth, he found himself getting angry. Annoyed that he was promised, by your actions, interesting conversation and like-minded company. His fists curled out of frustration, lights strobing as he stalked down the hall.

But that melted into something even more upsetting, he felt… worried. Not that his smile showed it, passing Vaggie with a nod of his head.

When did you manage to creep into his mind? Like an overlord taking territory, you had taken space in his thoughts with ruthless speed. Never one to be passive in competition, he realized he needed to take drastic measures to catch up to you. He knew of many ways to get *ahead, but he found an ambush always worked like a charm.

Alastor’s shadows gathered before he rose from the floor of your office.

You were standing near a filing cabinet, looking intently at something, “Hello there Alastor, to what-“ you turned the page, not looking at him, “do I owe the pleasure?” You hadn’t actually lifted your head from the file until you felt a hand in the small of your back. You flinched and took a step away, turning around to ask what he was doing when you noticed you weren’t in your office anymore.

The large hole in the wall that led into an endless swamp of a forest hinted at whose room this was.

Closing the file with one hand, you gestured around the room, “Is there a reason I’m here?”

He motioned for you to sit on the bed, and when you laughed he used the microphone to corral you to the edge. “You’ve been busy, as of late.”

“Swamped.” Usually your puns would get atleast a chuckle from your boss, but this time he passed right over it.

“I realized today we haven’t had one of our usual chats in quite a while. What’s been keeping you oh-so-occupied?” He pushed down on your shoulders until you came to rest on the bed.

Nervously, you scooted back a little from him, “Well, so many new residents has meant so many petty little issues. This guy on the 34th floor is angry that the man who killed him is on 37– Alastor?!” He had knelt down and lifted your ankle, slipping your shoe off.

“And?”

“What are you doing?”

“Isn't it obvious?" He picked up the other ankle, "Listening. Continue.”

You laughed breathlessly, “wha-,” but the way he looked up at you seemed to catch your tongue, “uhm, so- yeah so he doesn’t think his killer deserves redemption-,” the other shoe was taken off, neatly set besides its twin. You took a deep breath to try and calm down, “and even if he does, he shouldn’t be—,”Alastor’s hand slipped up your right thigh, fingers taking your stocking and rolling it down. His gaze on your face never wavering.

“Keep going.” The look in his eyes told you he wasn’t just suggesting it.

“-be on a higher floor.” He peeled the left stocking down, delicately pulling it over your toes.

You forgot to breath for a second. Instinctively you brought your knees together.

“That is quite annoying! What ever will you do?” That toothy grin widened as he looked up at you. His hand began to massage the sole of your right foot.

“Huh? Do what?”

“About the man on 34’s complaint”, his hand then moved up to your calf, he hummed, “what supple flesh, my dear.”

“Thank you?” Should you be scared or horny? Was he tenderizing his dinner? He looked up at you expectantly. “I told him if the angels return, higher floors would be the most dangerous.”

"Ha! Quite a clever response! Did it placate him?" He raised your right knee to his mouth, placing his lips above the joint. You felt his breath over your inner thigh as he let out a soft huff of a laugh, a reaction to your confused face. You were absolutely panicked; frozen. That wild look you were giving him, if he could he would drown himself in those eyes. Alastor felt his own excitement build, a twitch pressing his cock against the zipper of his dress pants. What a delicious reaction. His long hands crawled under your work skirt, nails grazing your skin as he grabbed the sides of your panties, "It's rude to leave someone waiting, dear."

You shook your head, crawling backward on the bed, "Okay, I get it. Ha ha, you managed to frazzle me."

A darkness fell over his face, "I don't think you do get it." He opened his mouth and dragged his teeth over the skin of your inner thigh, "You've neglected me quite rudely! Most people wouldn't dare such a thing and yet you don't even seem slightly concerned about it."

Rude? "Alastor, oh my god. What did I do? I've been at work every morning on time, if not early. I have been staying up late to make sure the resident files are up to date. I've been meeting with Charlie like you wanted about-,” He brought the panties down your thighs.

"It is what you haven't been doing, mon cher.” He pulled them clear of one leg, leaving them to hang off the ankle of the other leg. "I've been drinking my coffee alone in the sunroom, do you think I had the set of rocking chairs delivered for my own amusement? Dinner has been monotonous without your conversation. And what about our nightly gossip at the bar?" When he lifted your leg and hooked your knee over his shoulder, you fell back on your elbows to keep from lying flat.

"Listen-- Alastor!" His name was squeaked out as a bite stung you, dangerously close to your now naked pussy.

"Sir." He chided.

"Sir?!" He pushed your skirt up, exposing you, "Sir. I don't really like people going down on me."

"That's odd.” His hands gripped your thighs and dragged your ass to the edge of the bed, your pussy now inches from his face. His eyes rolled from left to right, “I don’t remember asking.” Your other leg was pulled over his shoulder, causing you to finally fall onto your back.

A long, wide tongue licked from mid thigh to the place where your legs met your crotch. You felt the heat of his mouth before he finally made contact with your core, one long lick from entrance to clit.

You buried your face inside the file, inhaling the smell of ink and paper with each pant. Your heart was pounding, the rush of blood from your head to your lap left you dizzy and seeing spots.

“Ah ah! I need your full attention.” He took the file and tossed it to the side. He needed to see your face, this was pointless if he couldn’t watch you go dumb in his mouth.

He had started this wanting to ensure you would be thinking about him as much as he had been you, but the way you couldn’t even speak when he touched you shifted his mission. Now, he wanted to win. Maybe he would be bothered by the absence of your presence in the sunroom, but you’d lie awake at night pained by the absence of his tongue in your cunt.

“I haven’t been with anyone in a long time.” Your face was beet red.

“Good. I’ve never been very fond of sharing my toys.” His nose grazed your already throbbing clit as he sunk his tongue into you. Reflexively your thighs pressed against his ears, his head keeping you from closing them entirely. His tongue seemed to lick at your walls as if reaching for something, the sensation wet and warm. You whined, embarrassed at how you were twitching against his lips.

You could feel his smile widen, thumb pressing down on your clit. Gripping the sheets you tried to ease away, the pressure too rough. His nails dug into your left leg, keeping you from making any real difference.

As he dragged his tongue along your walls you felt something you normally didn’t when getting eaten out; the beginning tension of an orgasm slinking into your stomach.

When his mouth left your cunt you gasped, the air stinging at your wet hole and thighs.

“Starting from the morning, tell me exactly what you did today that was so important you didn’t feel the need to entertain me with your company. If your mouth stops moving, so will mine.” He brought his lips to your other thigh, nipping at the skin.

“I made your coffee but got a call about a resident.” His finger pressed against your entrance before breaching.

“Oh, it has been awhile. I thought you were just being modest”, he laughed, your embarrassed expression spurring him forward. He hadn’t expected you to be so tight on just a single digit.

“She feels unsafe, there’s a jackal demon on her floor who keeps”, his finger curled, hitting that bundle of nerves that made your eyes cross, “who is giving her really scary looks.” He bit down again, breaking the skin. You yelled, yanking your leg back but he didn’t release you. “Alastor- please. This is cruel enough.”

“You haven’t even begun to see me be cruel.” He lapped at the wound, finger in you slowly dragging out before entering again. Still bent, it would hit your spongey g-spot with every move. “After that?”

“I had a meeting with Charlie. About the different growth activities.” Eyes closed, you could feel your pleasure slowly inching up that peak. “I needed to organize the files first, so I ate at my desk again.”

His lips cupped your clit as he began to suck. Your hips rose off the bed and his mouth went with you.

“It’s a lot of paperwork, you won’t let me use a computer for it.” His hand pulled back as a second finger joined. The way your cunt was gripping his fingers, he couldn’t imagine how much you’d hiss around his cock. His hips rutted against the air beside the bed, out of your view.

You put your arm over your eyes to hide yourself in some way, breath hitching when his fingers began pumping in and out of you. The moans tumbling from your mouth made Alastor’s grip on you tighten further. His cock leaking into the front of his pants.

When his tongue stopped flitting over your clit you groaned a complaint.

“Ffuuuck, Alastor. D- Uh, Room 127 hates the view o-,” your jaw clenched around the words, “something something blah blah blah —nngh” your head went back, your hips now fully grinding into his mouth. You needed more friction, your orgasm rolling just to the precipice.

His tongue slowed.

“He- he uh, I said he could move,” his fingers curled, pressing over and over into your g-spot, “when he stops being such an asshole. fuck me, please don’t stop—,” you reached down for his head and took a fist full of hair, earning you a surprised moan from him.

Alastor removed his hand from your leg to palm his clothed erection. His nose buried into your bush as his own breathing picked up.

So close.

“-and now I’m here and you’re here,” your words breathy, “and I’m gonna cum—I’m so close, so close,” your lips tingled from the way you were panting.

You choked out a moan as your orgasm reached its climax and pleasure wracked your body. Your grip on his hair stinging, your pussy sucked his fingers in with so much need he closed his eyes and let himself cum against his palm at the thought of his cock in their place. He felt the warmth soak into his pants.

Both of your hands came to your face, too embarrassed to speak.

Alastor placed your shoes and tights beside you, and rested both of his elbows on either side of your head. His weight pressed into you, and you finally looked at him. He was resting his chin on his cradled hands, staring down at you.

With a smug grin and raised his eyebrows he said, “Apology accepted.” He pushed off of you, bringing both fingers to his mouth and sucking them clean with a wet ‘pop’. “See you in the sun room at 8am! Bring that cheery smile I’ve come to enjoy!” He sunk back into the shadows and was gone.

You looked around, you were back in your office. He’d transported you seamlessly from lying on his bed to lying on your desk.

“Yes, sir.”

*get it? He wanted to “get ahead”… head. The slang for cunnilingus ? I’ll see myself out

༻Masterlist༺

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the-californicationist · 1 year ago

Text

he opens the mail

Captain Price opens a package, thinking it’s intel, but it’s a sex pollen. The only cure? Your pussy, apparently.

Warning: sex pollen tropes, extremely dubious consent, attempt at satire?, angry john price

“We’re never going to make this deadline. Laswell’s gonna kill me,” you complained, burying your head in the pile of envelopes and packages strewn over your desk.

“Did this to yourself, lass. Shoulda been keepin’ up with intel duty. Wee bit at a time, ‘s what I say,” Soap patted you on the shoulder, feigning pity.

You spent hours combing through the documents, and by the time everyone had gone to bed, your fingers were covered in paper cuts, and your vision was blurry from squinting at the poorly scrawled Cyrillic words.

You thought you were alone, and as you stood up to stretch and refill your coffee mug, Captain Price opened up the office door, scaring you half to death.

“Oh, hey Corporal,” he smiled and then furrowed his brow, “What are you still doing here?”

You sighed, pointing to the piles of documents,

“Laswell’s intel backlog. I’m the only one with a Level 3 linguistics cert for Russian, so here I am. Gonna be an all-nighter.”

He closed the door and sat down across from your seat, digging into the pile,

“I’m Level 3. Let’s finish it.”

“Captain, you don’t have to do that. I’m sure you’ve got more important things…”

Price shook his head, taking off his hat and hanging it on the chair back,

“Nah, tha’s alright, love. I’ll help ya. Get us a tea, yeah?”

You knew how he took his tea, and you hated that you did. Secretly, you were obsessed with him. He was always around, smelling like balsam wood and tobacco, looking like a gladiator, huge and capable in the most masculine way. It was hard to concentrate when he was nearby. Now that he had offered to help, you had to grin and bear it.

You worked together for a while, chatting, even laughing. It was nice. You had so much in common, the conversation flowed easily, and you found yourself much more at ease. Finally, three packages remained. You opened the first one and found little more than phone records for a local library. Unhelpful to say the least. Price opened a water bill, and he recognized the address of a recent Konni base location. Any intel at this point felt like a celebration. Then, the final box.

“Go on then. Show us the ending,” he smiled, handing it to you.

“Couldn’t take the joy of ripping up the last letter, Captain. Be my guest,” you smiled.

He chuckled, tearing into the envelope. In a flash, bright pink powder sprayed him directly in the eyes, and he writhed in pain, pinching them shut, his whole body going stiff.

“Fuck me!” He shouted.

“Hang on,” you ran over to the sink in the kitchenette, “Here’s some water. Get that shit out of your eyes.”

“Don’t,” he moved away from you like you were on fire, “Don’t touch me. Might be contagious.”

Your chest was rising and falling with your labored breathing, and you were immediately worried. You reached for your phone and called Laswell.

“Laswell, Price got anthraxed by one of the intel letters. What do you want us to do?”

She gasped,

“What? Shit. I’m on my way.”

She hung up on you. You watched Price slowly try to open his eyes. They were stained hot pink from the powder.

“You alright?” You asked him.

“Yeah, love,” he sighed, “Doesn’t hurt anymore. Feeling strange though. Laswell said she’s coming?”

You nodded,

“Yeah, just in case.”

He nodded, running his hand along the inside of his collar. The captain was sweaty and a little pale.

“Captain, are you okay?”

“Mmm, no,” he shook his head, “Something’s not right, love.”

He stood and went to the sink, washing as much of the powder off as he could. You moved away from him and stationed yourself across the room, praying for Laswell to hurry.

Price was in a bad way. He took off his shirt, and he was still dripping with beads of sweat. You tried not to stare, but his temperature wasn’t the only thing heating up. His huge cock was making a prominent tent in his pants, but he was in too much pain to bother hiding it. You felt yourself blushing, and you willed yourself to pull it together.

“…fuckin’ hell,” his hand went to his crotch to squeeze his length, trying to find some relief, “Sorry, love.”

“It’s okay,” you said politely, trying to breathe normally, but feeling the slick rush melt between your legs.

“It’s makin’ me…feel…bloody hell. I can’t hold it off. Can…can you…? No! No, what the fuck am I sayin’? No,” he shook his head, rubbing his hands down his face, hot and very bothered.

You inched closer to him,

“If I haven’t been affected yet, I’m sure it’s okay. How should I help you?”

“No! No, stay back. I’m not…I can’t think straight. My mind’s got one thing on it,” he shoved his hands beyond his zipper and began to jerk himself off, his dick making lurid noises with his hand.

You hated seeing him so helpless. You moved to his side,

“Cap, it’s okay. Let me help you.”

His hand was around your throat in milliseconds. Price shoved you against the wall and began to kiss your mouth, furiously laving his tongue against yours.

“No, no, no,” he whispered through his kisses, not bothering to pull away as he spoke his lamentations.

You made the mistake of putting your hands on his chest to steady yourself. He moaned, trembling beneath your touch,

“Ahh, careful.”

“Sorry,” you pulled your hands away, still trapped in his firm grip around your neck, “did I hurt you?”

“No, doesn’t hurt.”

He said it in a way that darkly implied your touch was igniting a different kind of fire. You put your hands back where they were, and his eyes shot open, piercing through yours with a lustful rage. Unexpectedly, he ripped off your shirt and lay you down on the black leather couch in the corner of the office. He crushed you with his weight, kissing you deeply.

Then, your phone rang. He didn’t allow you to pause, so it went to voicemail. It rang again. You were getting just as hot as he was, and you weren’t that interested in who was looking for you in the middle of the night. Until, however, the door to the office burst wide open and Laswell and Gaz burst through it.

Price snarled. You’d never heard a man make that noise before. Laswell put her hands on her hips while Gaz tried to shield his face in shock. Laswell rubbed her forehead, frustrated,

“Are his eyes pink, Corporal?”

You escaped his jaws for a moment,

“Yeah, why?”

“It’s a sex drug. Forces the user to fornicate as it is only passed through the body in seminal fluid, dissolving in the heat of another person’s body. Are you volunteering here? What happened?”

Her tone was so matter of fact, it was a little humorous, if Price’s length wasn’t rutting against you in earnest, you might've laughed. You tried to explain as much as he would allow,

“Got too close… just… happened. How…” you moaned as Price pulled down the strap of your bra and helped himself to your nipple, “How did you know?”

She sighed, typing something into her datapad,

“Checked the incident log from this afternoon. Four more cases of this have popped up in intel collections. Gonna have to screen for it next time.”

She turned to walk out of the office with Gaz, and you called after her,

“Hey, wait! How long does it - oh, fuck… how long does it last?”

Laswell had the audacity to smirk at you, raising her eyebrows and cutting her eyes at Price’s swollen cock, lolling out of his pants, scraping itself against you.

“Eight hours. Looks like you’re in for a rough night, Corporal. Maybe next time you’ll be more careful.”

Part 2

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minkieater · 28 days ago

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EIGHT FIRST DATES ꨄ︎

003 》 KIM MINGYU

maybe boys your age just weren’t your thing. after a sudden lunch date, you were already half convinced the search was over— had you found the man you were bringing to your family’s thanksgiving? how will chan take the news?

wc ~10k | mentions of death, age gap, mingyu is hot, smut mdni, fingering, dirty talk

you’d thought about yunho’s words all the way until your head hit the pillow saturday night. no one’s ever said anything like that to you before– no one’s ever needed to.

you knew yunho only cared for you the way your family, san and yeosang cared for you, but you couldn’t shake it. maybe it was just your brain on overdrive after the previous forty eight hours, maybe you were making something out of nothing.

yunho’s always been nothing but honest with you, he wouldn’t say something without saying it. he had no reason to beat around the bush, if there was any bush to begin with.

so— you shook it off and texted mingyu. at approximately nine forty eight in the morning on a sunday, feeling like you hadn’t gotten any sleep at all.

you: hey this is tiny from last night :)

— incoming call from kim mingyu…

you shot up in bed, your soul nearly leaving your body as you pressed the little green circle, your tired voice stumbling out a meek “h-hello?”

“hey, it’s mingyu,” he sounded chipper, as if he’d been awake for hours already. you shot a hand through your hair, hopping out of bed as if he could see you through the phone.

“i know who you are, i texted you,” you said, then shook your head, eyes screwed tight. you didn’t know if he’d hear the humor in your voice or if you sounded rude over the phone, you tried to play it off with “what’s up?” as you paced around your bedroom.

“just finished up a meeting, heading home now. did you just wake up?” you could almost see his face over the phone, hear his smile. you threw your head back, all worries forgotten, knees bending to sit back on your mattress– he’s so hot.

“maybe,” you bit your lip, fighting a smile. the little balls of cotton that had pilled up on your comforter were suddenly the most interesting thing ever, mindlessly rolling them between your fingers as he spoke.

he laughed through the phone, a hearty chuckle that was music to your ears, “you think after you have a cup of coffee to wake your pretty head up, you’d be free to meet me for lunch?”

your eyes shot open, jaw falling open, “today?!”

“yes today, silly girl, are you free?” you glanced around your room frantically as if something in there would give you the answer, but as you looked at your calendar hung on the wall and there was nothing but blank space under today’s date, there was zero reason to say no.

you nodded as your words came out, “i- um, yeah i’m free.” your voice had become quieter, more coy— you couldn’t believe your own decision.

“perfect, i have a place in mind, do you want me to pick you up or would you prefer to meet me there?” oh, your mind was in shambles. too many questions, too many decisions, far too soon after opening your eyes.

“i wouldn’t want you to come all the way to get me, i can meet you,” you reassured him, a nervous chuckle following your words.

“it’s no problem sweetheart, whatever you’re comfortable with. i’ll text you where and you let me know, yeah? i’m thinking two, does that work for you?” his voice was saccharine— you swooned over how sweetheart danced off his lips all the way through the speaker of your phone. you laid back, flat against your mattress, massive smile on your face.

all you could respond was a breathy “that’s perfect.”

you’d never gotten in the shower so fast in your life. with your hair still wet, a robe wrapped around your body, you raced down to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of coffee, smiling to yourself because mingyu was the one who mentioned coffee in the first place.

ace was sat on the counter of the island, your sister’s head in the refrigerator, both chatting before you padded into the kitchen.

“vi, grab me the oat milk please?” you asked as you poured your coffee into your mug. sixteen and in her sassy phase, vivi was an enigma, you swore she assumed the world revolved around her.

she handed you the flavored oat milk with a lifted top lip, “gross.”

“first of all, it’s good. second of all, you say that every time as if i drink nut milk out of choice. i don’t want to be glued to the toilet all day,” you poured your milk into your cup, giving it a swirl before taking a sip. so good.

she cracks a smile, “crazy how a wee sip of milk can take you down. weak shit.”

you roll your eyes then look to ace for help, who just throws his hands up in defense with an amused smile. him and vivi must be friends today.

as you make your way out of the kitchen, vivi calls after you, “tiny, can you take me to work later?”

“i won’t be home!” you yell back from the stairs, making your way back to your room.

you had barely even started doing your hair before vivi was on your bed, a thousand questions on the tip of her tongue. “what are you doing that you won’t be home? all the boys are coming here.”

“i know more people than just them, you know,” you rolled your eyes, your hands in your hair.

a sarcastic chuckle fled her lips like she was waiting for that answer, “like who? karina, sakura?”

your jaw locks, as if hanging out with your cousins was embarrassing. it was true that you didn’t bring your friends from school around, or hung out with any of them much outside of classes. the boys had met some of them, the few times you’d brought them to the frats with you over the years — that quickly ended when ace hooked up with one too many of your friends.

“i’m going on a lunch date,” you pointed your gaze at her through the reflection of the mirror, “can you leave so i can get ready?”

with raised eyebrows she stood, “dad says you’ve been going on a lot of dates lately.”

your entire body tensed, “matt should mind his own business.”

“i don’t think it was an insult,” she shrugged, “i think it’s good you’re finally getting some.”

you turned your entire body around to face her and snapped, “i think everyone should stop talking about what i’m doing, especially matt who has no fucking business talking to my little sister about who i’m seeing.”

mascara coated lashes blinked at you, not an ounce of sincerity in her voice as she plainly said, “you really need to talk to someone, tiny.”

“get out of my room, vi,” you turned back around, fighting every ounce of anger in your body, only taking a deep breath as you watched her blue hair bounce out of your room. hearing her refer to matt as dad always made you see red, something you couldn’t let go of, you weren’t sure if you ever would.

you got ready with a scowl on your face, waiting until the last second to put on mascara just in case tears decided to show themselves– in situations like this, they always seemed to.

you decided you’d meet mingyu, the restaurant he chose for lunch was only thirty minutes into the city and you didn’t want to risk repeating what happened with chan. when you briefly looked at the menu online before choosing an outfit, you nearly choked on air when you saw the selection of food and the prices.

this was not a chill lunch date— this was a lunch date.

you panicked the entire car ride, realizing you didn’t know shit about mingyu. you didn’t think meeting hyunjin was sketchy because you knew so much about him already, you spent days talking to him and learning about him before you went out, it was the exact opposite with mingyu. you’ve met him, but you didn’t know him.

on top of that, no one knew where you were going, no one knew who you were meeting, which was a first — if your armpits weren’t dampening at a rapid pace you could probably convince yourself it was exciting.

mingyu is older, that much you know. the owner of a distillery, absolutely. wealthy enough to take you on an expensive lunch date, that was new information. your heart only pounded harder against your chest when you pulled into a parking space.

“hey, sweetheart,” and just like that, your heart calmed in your chest, your breathing became normal. he wore black denim jeans, a light gray shirt that clung to every inch of his chest, the light band of skin around his wrist where his watch sat yesterday told you he was sporting a tan. golden, muscular, kim mingyu was anatomically perfect.

he had to lean down to kiss your cheek and you burst into flames where his lips met your skin. fingers fidgeting with your sleeve, the toes of your shoes touching, you felt so small under his gaze it was electrifying.

“mister kim, right this way,” the hostess approached you, two menus in her hand, the other pointed in the direction of your table. she sat you at a window table, a four top, you and mingyu sat across from each other closest to the window. you placed your purse on the chair next to you, your armpits beginning to dampen all over again. you needed to relax.

“how are you?” he asked, a knowing smile playing on his lips. you cracked, you must’ve been radiating nerves, a smile breaking out on your own cheeks.

“good, slightly nervous, but good,” you nodded through a laugh, getting the words out with enough life to hopefully hide the real amount of nerves you were feeling. this was all so new.

“nervous? no,” he gasped as if that was the silliest thing he’d ever heard, “how’s the little drunk blondie? did you get him home safe?”

“tucked him into bed and everything,” you nodded before you realized how that sounded, your eyes widening. “then i left– i just tucked him into bed. he was really drunk.”

“you don’t have to do that,” he pulled the menu into his hands, “i scouted you while you were on a date already, i’m well aware.”

your cheeks flushed as you grabbed your menu, grateful to have something to occupy your hands. your mouth pulled to one side, top lip swallowing your lower one. there was so much you wanted to know about him.

your waitress came over and got your drink orders, mingyu also ordered a couple of his favorite appetizers, which you were grateful for, you hadn’t deciphered a single word off the menu yet.

“speaking of blondie, you said he’s a friend from class, right?” mingyu met your gaze over his menu, “what are you studying?”

“education, i wanna be an elementary school teacher,” you nodded, “i’ve wanted to be a teacher ever since i can remember.”

you caught a glimpse of his canines in a smile, “are your students gonna call you miss tiny?”

you lifted your eyebrows, “that’s not a bad idea, actually. easy to pronounce, good for when i’m teaching phonics, too.”

he releases amusement through his nose, “you sound like a teacher already.”

“i should, i’m graduating this year,” you rack your eyes over the menu again, you almost wished they had a kids menu– there were too many options.

“are you getting your bachelors degree?” he asks, settling himself into his chair, leaning into the back of it. you wished the table wasn’t between you– you wanted to see him leaned back, manspreading in all his glory.

you nod in response and he points his eyes, “so that makes you… twenty one?”

“twenty two,” you correct, holding up two fingers. he shakes his head, smiling in disbelief, and all you can conjure up is “what?”

“i knew you were young, i was just thinking like twenty five young,” you think all the blood drained from your face as you stared at him, you must of had your question written all over your face. he holds up three fingers on one hand and makes a zero with the other, looking uneasy behind his hands.

mingyu is… thirty. oh. you knew he was older from the jump.

you lifted an eyebrow, “so?”

he smiles. “i figured that would be a deal breaker.”

“it’s not every day the owner of a distillery hands you his business card and also happens to be under the age of thirty,” you shrug, “i don’t see why it would even be a concern, i’m an adult.”

he purses his lips, “your nickname is fitting, miss tiny.”

you roll your eyes again, “okay, your turn, thirty-year-old-distillery-owner kim mingyu.”

you didn’t know when you got comfortable, when words started freely flowing from your lips without a second thought, but you didn’t want it to stop. mingyu was too easy to talk to, the walls you had just put back up had come crumbling down within minutes— it was as if yunho didn’t say anything at all.

the waitress drops off your drinks and appetizers then takes your entree order, you ordered whatever was least intimidating, the menu was so vast you couldn’t focus enough to even read the whole thing.

“i’ll start with the distillery,” he says after a sip of his drink, he ordered his own brand of whiskey— neat. “i think it’s obvious i inherited it, the company was established in 1917, hence its name, by one of my ancestors back in the day. it trickled down the family tree until my dad inherited it in the seventies, then it became mine a few years ago.”

“so you’re a nepo baby?” you gave him a cocky smile as you picked at one of the appetizers, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

he tried to frown through a very clear smile, his lips scrunched together, “technically, yes, but i did go to college, i double majored in business and marketing with a minor in finance.”

“the fuck?” your eyebrows flew to your hairline, a hand covering the food in your mouth. “how the hell did you have the time? the energy? the brain?”

he laughed, “like you, i knew what i wanted from a very young age, what was waiting for me in the future. seventeen’s been alive for over a century, i’ll be damned if it dies with me.”

you sat back in your seat, letting a breath out, processing the insanity that is a double major and a minor in those fields. “you’re fucking crazy.”

“i did it, though,” he cocked his head to the side, pointing a finger at you, “look at me now, seventeen is sold in over one hundred countries, in thousands of stores, distributed through retail outlets, liquor stores, and major chains. it’s insane to me that i can get it in places like this,” he looks around you, “we’ve had to expand production capacity twice in four different countries since i’ve been CEO.”

“damn,” you blink, “you’re like, kind of an important person.”

he chuckles, “no, i’m just a guy that fucking loves whiskey. the first time i can remember trying it was when i was fourteen, my old man told me to ‘take a sip and be a man about it’.”

“my dad let me try red wine when i was probably eleven,” you shrug, “i did not like it, i spit it on the floor and cried. still to this day it’s not my favorite.”

“red wine is easy work,” he raised a brow, “be a man about it.”

you smiled, “trust me, i’ve tried.”

the rest of lunch came and went with constant conversation, you talked with full mouths and a competition of who’s voice could be louder, the both of you having stories that reminded the other of another story, the cycle beginning and never ending. after your plates were cleared and your drinks were empty, the talk still flowed, so deep down a rabbit hole you couldn’t remember where the conversation began.

mingyu reminded you of someone– you couldn’t put a finger on it, there was something about the tone of his voice, how he teased you, how he spoke with such a maturity yet accompanied by a silliness, it was almost nostalgic with how comfortable you felt with him. it was like you’d known each other forever the way you spat stories back and forth, it was like talking with yunho, yeosang or san– except your memories weren’t shared. refreshing couldn’t even begin to describe it.

the lunch began with you soaking through your shirt and a heart pounding against your chest, but ended with sadness, clear disappointment that it was over. you didn’t hide it, you couldn’t if you tried with the way mingyu hugged you goodbye.

“what’s your schedule look like for the rest of the week?” he asked as you stood beside your car, your back leaned against the driver’s side door and mingyu towering above you.

“classes wednesday, thursday, friday. they all finish around three,” you nodded, “but other than that, i’m totally free.”

he turned his head to the side, looking at you through lowered brows and pointed peripherals, “no job?”

you playfully smacked his arm, giggling, “i am very blessed and grateful for the life i live.”

“i’d hope so,” he smiled, “i’m free most nights, i’m super free wednesday night, my meetings end early that day. come over to my place and i’ll cook for us?”

you gave him a look that said be for real, “you just want to show off your supposed super awesome and amazing cooking skills.”

“what’s wrong with that?” he smirked and you nearly jumped him, “if i were you, i’d be jumping in excitement to feast on my super awesome and amazing cooking skills.”

“i guess,” you sighed as if you had no other option, “depends what you’re making.”

“i guess you’ll have to find out,” he mimicked you with a wink and you were transported to less than twenty four hours ago, when he stood behind the bar, his bar, and winked for the first time. you think you might be the luckiest human on earth. “i’ll call you after my work dinner.”

“work dinner still sounds wrong, you need to come up with a better name for that,” you leaned up off your car to give yourself space to open the door, a part of you hoping he’d kiss you goodbye.

“now it will never get a new name simply because it bothers you,” he doesn’t step back, instead he closes the distance, before you know it his hand is under your chin and his lips press to your cheek, his other hand reaching behind you to open your car door.

your cheeks flush, eyes focused on the lips that just touched your cheek as he pulled away. he noticed, of course he did, a cocky smirk growing, “come and see me on wednesday for the rest.”

you’d make a noise of disgust if it didn’t completely work on you, your abdomen clenched at his words. you needed him more than you’ve needed anything else in your entire life, there was no question about whether or not you were seeing him on wednesday. from the moment you saw him you were wrapped around his finger— hopefully you really would be on wednesday.

“goodbye, mingyu,” your cheeks flushed, trying to sound normal, ignoring how your entire fucking body went hot as you climbed into your car, “thank you again for lunch.”

“bye, miss tiny, talk to you later,” he closed your car door with a smile, and then he was off to his own. when he was out of view you took a deep breath, then squealed. you couldn’t wait to tell everyone about him.

he did call you sunday night, but also monday morning, monday night, tuesday morning, tuesday afternoon and tuesday night. even wednesday morning when he knew you were walking up to your first class, kim mingyu couldn’t leave you alone. you talked about anything and everything, he told you about his day, you told him about yours, you even let yeosang yell hello into the speaker once (it was actually against your will).

you didn’t give anyone any details— what you shared with yunho you kept with only yunho, you came home sunday with a big dumb smile on your face, sitting on your couch with your mind still standing outside your car with mingyu. the boys had asked, nosy as they are, but you couldn’t bring yourself to share any details or even tell them what you had done. maybe that was your problem, maybe hyunjin would’ve worked out if you never said anything in the first place.

you shook your head at the thought, hyunjin had a one track mind when it came to you. maybe a part of you wanted to keep mingyu all to yourself, you wanted to share your excitement only with him, or at least wait it out until there was more to tell. you’re optimistic, you could see something blooming with mingyu, you could see yourself being with him long term— you knew your family would eat him up. but one question sat at the pit of your stomach, one you tried to keep buried, one you shouldn’t worry about because no one else’s opinion of mingyu should matter except yours.

standing outside the double doors to your class, you took a deep breath. chan hasn’t texted you since saturday other than ‘thanks for taking me home’ on sunday, you haven’t texted him other than responding to that one singular message. tuesday night you’d prepared everything you were going to say to him after class, how to let him down easy.

“hey!” his smile was as bright as it usually is, shaggy blonde hair cascading down his forehead, oversized hoodie hugging his frame.

“hey chan,” you returned the smile, setting up your laptop and books around you. you were nervous, palms slightly sweaty, hands not fully stable as you prepared your deskspace.

“so, i have a proposition for you,” he starts, body turned fully towards you. oh no, is he asking you out again?

“proposition?” you quirked a brow, still not giving him your full attention as you logged into your computer, pulling up today’s lecture.

“my roommate won’t stop talking about you,” he says so casually it catches you off guard. you stare at him with a blank look, he has your full attention now, fingers stilling on your keyboard.

“…roommate?” you ask, face contorted into something of confusion and surprise, until you remember the chipmunk that you fed a wave in chan’s kitchen. “oh, brown hair, glasses?”

“yes! his name is han jisung, he keeps begging me to set you guys up,” chan shakes his head, still wearing a smile, “he keeps calling you an angel sent from above. we don’t have girls in the apartment very often.”

“chan, i’m confused,” your eyebrows are furrowed now, you turn your body to face him as your fingers reach your temple. “i took you home after our date, and now you’re trying to set me up with your roommate who i only caught a glimpse of in your kitchen?”

he pulls his lips together, hand reaching up to scratch the back of his head, “i didn’t know how to tell you because it sounds mean no matter how you put it, but i think we’d probably be better as friends.”

you blinked at him, jaw slack, you thought he was going to say the exact opposite of the words that left his lips. you didn’t know if it was worse or better that you were going to say the same thing to him, but for him to beat you to it? sickening.

“i’m sorry! please don’t hate me,” he pouted, grabbing your hands with his own, “i had a really good time, i’ve been dying to go to that distillery for ages, i’m eternally grateful you went with me.”

“i just… don’t think there’s anything between us romantically,” his cheeks were bright pink, a weak smile on his face, “but there could be between you and jisung.”

“i– i don’t know what to say,” you felt dumbfounded, you were sure your face reflected that. “i’m flattered your roommate is interested in me, but i don’t think i’m interested in him. at least not right now.”

chan lets go of your hands, his pout turning into a frown. “that’s okay, let me know if you change your mind. he goes to school here, he’s getting his bachelors in music composition. he’s really funny, super cool and ridiculously smart.”

you nod, “i’ll let you know.” bringing your attention back to your laptop, all you could think was how much you wanted to tell mingyu— he’d find the entire situation hilarious. you could see him throwing his head back in laughter, teasing you for taking care of the little drunk blondie for an entire night just for him to break things off with you.

the more you thought about it, the more that very thing began to irritate you. you barely heard a word out of your professor’s mouth, the lecture falling on deaf ears, only contemplating why chan broke it off with you first. you were pleasant, caring, let him do what he wanted without complaint, even cleaned up after him— and he had the nerve to say you weren’t compatible? irritating.

as class ended, you packed your things up in record speed, hustling out of your lecture hall, but chan was quick to follow you. you didn’t necessarily hide the shift in your behavior, head in your laptop all class, not even looking at him once, even when he asked you questions you gave him curt answers and zero eye contact.

“wait! what the hell,” he called after you just as you made it outside, wind whipping at your skin, blowing your hair in every direction.

you stopped in your tracks, snapping your neck to look at him, “what else can i do for you?”

chan looked confused now, his eyebrows knitted in such an adorable way it irritated you more. he sounded surprised as he asked, “are you mad at me?”

“can i ask you something?” you didn’t wait for his answer, “why did you say there’s nothing between us romantically? you basically said we’re incompatible.”

his lips flattened, he sighed as he looked down before saying. “i did not say we’re incompatible, i said we’d be better off as friends.”

“i agree with you, but i want to know why you think that,” you stood your ground, arms crossed, probably with steam shooting from your ears into the chilly october air, your frustration was clear.

“fine. i was drunk, not blind,” he threw his hands up, “you didn’t seem to be into the date we were on at all, your head was somewhere else the second you got into my car. which was fine, i figured maybe you were having an off day, but then we got to the class and all you looked at was mingyu. i knew then that you just weren’t into me.”

you purse your lips, cheeks flushing, it was embarrassing how quickly your anger turned to regret. you had no reason to be irritated in the first place, chan made his decision based on how you made him feel.

“i’m not angry at you,” he shrugged, “and it didn’t really hurt my feelings. i think you’re cool and i want to be friends with you, going to the distillery was still a really fun experience.”

“chan, i’m so sorry,” your palms hit your forehead, voice going weak. “that wasn’t fair to you at all.”

“don’t get all sad, i said it didn’t hurt my feelings,” when you looked back at him he was smiling, hands in the pocket of his hoodie. “thanks for apologizing, if you wanna make it up to me you can go out with my roommate so he’ll leave me alone.”

a smile broke out across your face, sniffing from how unusually cold it was. “i’ll think about it— just to make it up to you, though.”

he rolled his eyes playfully, “i think you’ll really like him.”

you ran a hand through your hair, “i do need a boyfriend before thanksgiving.”

your hand clasped over your mouth— you couldn’t believe you let that slip. chan looked at you like he was lost, “what do you mean by that?”

you sighed, defeated, thinking maybe chan was a good person to talk to about it. he wasn’t in your circle, wasn’t biased to anyone— plus he was no longer a contender. “let’s go get coffee or something, i’ll explain it all to you.”

you and chan sat at the coffee shop on campus for an hour, you got everything off your chest. from how your cousins treated you, your sister, your entire family at this point to how you quickly came up with a lie to get them off your back. you told him about hyunjin, about mingyu, you told him everything and he listened to every word.

you talked not only about the other men, but about your date with him, too. you talked everything out together down to the last detail, chan’s humor made you feel better, as if you had no worries in the world and your date with him was just two friends hanging out in the first place. you felt relieved after talking it out with him, he understood you, your feelings, even your thought process, giving you advice as much as he eased your worries.

you didn’t think it was possible for you two to be friends after going on an entire date together, you didn’t think it’d be possible for anyone to. but with the person chan is kind, understanding, empathetic, he was more human than most people you’ve encountered at your university— you were relieved to know you could stay friends and keep him in your life. your boys would like him.

then mingyu called, disrupting your coffee friend date entirely. chan was wiggling his eyebrows at you and you rolled your eyes, picking up your phone.

“hey sweetheart, how was class?”

all of your worries seemed to flee.

mingyu texted you his address, telling you to come over around six thirty. being after four already and he lived thirty minutes away, you panicked. you rushed home, nearly hitting four other cars on the way there, not even stopping to say hello to your family before you were taking an everything shower.

knowing everyone was home, you were grateful no one stopped in your room to talk to you as you got ready, your lack of time to properly prepare had begun stressing you out before you walked in your front door. by six you were actually ready, a shock to everyone who would hear that sentence, and proud of yourself.

your plan was to sneakily leave through the front door, quiet as a mouse. you didn’t want to be asked any questions, divulge any answers, no one needed to know anything about your whereabouts for the night.

your twin and your friends sat in your living room, vivi on the farthest corner of the couch, all eyes pointed at the flat screen tv hung on the wall. you stayed close to the wall as you snuck around the corner, tip toeing through the entryway to the front door. as your fingers reached for the knob, you peered over your shoulder, only catching yunho’s eye before you slipped through the heavy slab of wood. you didn’t give him time to make a sound before you were gone.

getting to mingyu’s house was hard, you hated driving in the city, but getting up to his place was even harder. he told you to tell the man working the desk your name and he’d guide you the rest of the way, but his instructions seemed too plain to get there, considering there were only two steps: get in the elevator and press ‘P’.

there was a special elevator off to the side of the lobby in his building, which seemed more like a hotel than anything, and the man working the desk had to swipe a card to let you in. you did as you were told, confused as ever, pressing P as soon as he swiped the card– the button all the way at the top of the operating panel. only as you moved upward in the elevator and you passed the top floor did everything begin to click– mingyu lived in the penthouse of his building. the penthouse.

your nerves seemed to wake up as the elevator opened up, met with a full living room, all cream furniture and floor to ceiling windows. you were floored, not wanting to take a step forward until you sniffed. like a dog, your nose pulled you forward, the smell of whatever the hell mingyu was cooking completely entracing you.

stood at the stove, his back to you, your nerves were so overwhelming you nearly turned around and got back in the elevator. old jazz music played through his apartment, the smell of dinner and mingyu flooding your nose as you looked around for a moment before greeting him — you needed to process.

white marble countertops accented by a deep, ebony wood in the kitchen, cream tiled floors, a navy sectional in the living room accompanied by a matching ebony coffee table, a massive flat screen tv on the wall– you should’ve seen this coming. you knew he was wealthy, but this was more than anything you could’ve imagined. the place was so clean you were sure you could slide your finger across every surface and there would be no residue, you were willing to bet that not even a speck of dust sat on the ceiling fan that hung at least twelve feet above you. you were in heaven.

“you scared the shit out of me,” mingyu called from the kitchen, taking his apron off as he rounded the corner of his kitchen island, “quiet girl.”

he snapped you out of your shock, ease consuming your now cold-sweating body, looking at him with a smile as you slipped off your boots by the elevator door, sock-covered feet padding along the cold tiled floor all the way to where he stood. he wrapped you in a hug, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before he said, “i’m happy you came.”

“me too, whatever you’re cooking smells amazing,” you say as you look up to him, arms still hooked around his waist, it was concerning how quickly his embrace could snap you out of a spiral. “this place is fucking incredible.”

“thank you,” his smile is infectious, so wide you couldn’t possibly wipe your own off your face. “hope you like steak– cooked with dairy free butter.”

“you remembered!” you exclaim, following him around the corner of the island, eyes looking from dish to dish laid out across the island. he really went all out, vegetables and sides and even a small charcuterie plate full of cheese and fruits. you looked up to him again, “all these, too?”

“come on,” he shook his head as if you were silly for even asking that question, “wouldn’t want to upset the tiny tummy.”

your face flushed, you couldn’t believe your eyes, ears or nose– you told him once in quick conversation on sunday that you were lactose intolerant and he remembered, he made an entire dinner based around your restriction. you looked up at him with stars in your eyes, and he knew it, too.

“i can’t believe this,” you shook your head as you stared the charcuterie board down, you were starving and the plate was calling your name.

“sit and eat, we still have some time before dinner’s ready,” he slipped the apron back on over his head and you stifled a giggle at the sight before planting yourself down on a barstool on the opposite side of the island, picking at the plate of fruits and cheese. you took it easy on the cheese, just in case —you couldn’t help it— the fruit was more than enough for an appetizer.

your head nodded along to the jazz music as he stood at the stove, cooking the steak, bouncing over to you every few minutes to steal a grape or plant a kiss on your forehead. it was oddly domestic, as if you’d been here before, meant to be in this exact situation. he asked you about class, you asked about his meetings, you went back and forth until he was plating everything, ignoring you every time you asked if he needed help— he answered the first time, he was done with the question after that.

“where do you wanna eat?” he looked to you across the island after everything was plated like you were at a michelin grade restaurant, maybe he was a chef in a past life. “we can eat at the table, on the couch, i can come sit next to you and we can eat here.”

you shrugged, “wherever you want to eat, chef, your house your rules.”

the corner of his mouth lifted, “i’ll come over there, don’t want the princess to have to move her seat.”

you looked up at the nickname, in your twenty two years of life only one other person had nicknamed you princess. you hadn’t heard the nickname since you were twelve, it was more comforting than you expected it to be.

mingyu noticed your look, tilting his head to ask, “what?” as he moved your plates to your side of the island.

“i just like that nickname,” you smiled before taking a sip of your drink, the surfside mingyu so graciously stopped at the liquor store to get– you make one joke about enjoying seltzers…

“thank you for cooking,” you said as he clicked his glass of whiskey with your can, and he nodded in appreciation.

“let’s eat!” he said with a wide smile, excitement exuding from his skin, you could see he loved cooking, especially for someone else. it made you curious about his other hobbies, what else he enjoyed besides cooking and seventeen, what made him as enamored as you were just by him. you wanted to know everything– every detail he wanted to share you’d embrace with open arms.

the food didn’t just smell amazing, it tasted incredible— super awesome and amazing cooking skills, indeed. he seemed like the type to be talented at everything, the jack of all trades, you could just tell. he was perfect boyfriend material, he checked off everything on your more shallow list– with time, you were sure he’d check off everything. you could feel it.

you spoke as you ate, from how he learned to cook to how he expanded his skill, the other things he had interest in– he loves dogs, he likes to clean, fix anything that’s broken (he likes to figure it out himself), interior design, he likes to drive and insists he doesn’t have a driver, he likes fashion, you learned he speaks fast when he really enjoys something. you were precise with your questions, asking him specific details about things he enjoys just so he’d speak more, you loved every minute of it. you learned so much in such a short time, you became so engrossed in the conversation he ended up getting a lot out of you, too.

it’d been at least forty five minutes since you finished your meal and you were still talking — you bickered about doing the dishes and you finally won, insisting that he at least let you load the dishwasher while he washed them. he agreed with a sour look on his face and your smile was nothing short of victorious, and then your conversation picked up right where it left off. you talked about yourself, how you like to clean, keep a tidy space, your family, your friends, your plans for the future, the upcoming holidays– he almost got it out of you, but you kept your composure, not repeating what happened with chan.

by the time you made it to the couch, you were going back and forth about how you grew up, talking about your families. you were facing one another, you were sitting the same way– one leg on the couch, the other touching the floor, leaning your side against the back cushion. his couch was as comfortable as it was beautiful, navy velvet so soft to your skin you sunk right in.

“okay, what’s something you’ve done since you were young, and you still do to this day?” he kept his eyes on you, soft and focused, making sure you knew he was listening.

you squinted as you thought about it, racking your brain for any traditions you’ve kept with your family. “we have a holiday tradition,” you smile, cheeks flushing, not one hundred percent sure if you really wanted to talk about it– but it was the only thing you could think of, and at this point you trust mingyu enough to speak on it. “we’ve done this since i was twelve— our entire family comes over to my house, my mom and stepdad host, we have over seventy people in the house for thanksgiving and christmas. it’s my mom’s family, my dad’s family, my step dad's family, plus yeosang, san and yunho’s families, too.”

“how the hell do you cook for that many people?” mingyu stares at you in shock, eyes wide and eyebrows high.

“cook? please, we cater,” you shake your head, “we all stand in the kitchen before we eat and we talk to my dad. whoever wants to, we just talk out in the open as if he was in the room, or telling stories about him. sometimes my dads’ friends stop by too, they did that more often when we were younger, but they’ll stop by and talk to him or even about him, too. my mom will always tell the same stories of how they met, how me and my siblings came to be, the days we were born, how they named us. it’s important to us around the holidays.”

you watched mingyu’s expression soften, but he also looked as if he was thinking, processing. he finally spoke, a hush to his words, a delicacy you were expecting, “i had no idea, i’m so sorry.” his hand felt warm as he laid it on your knee, “i love that tradition, i don’t doubt he’s there with you every time you talk to him.”

you gave him a smile, “thank you, it’s my favorite part about the holidays. after that i usually get berated for the rest of the day, if that counts as a tradition, too.”

he gives you a confused look through a laugh, “i don’t think that counts. we have a somewhat similar tradition– every year at christmas we make a toast to the ancestors who have owned seventeen, paying respect to the men who have made our lives what they are. we just added my grandpa to the list a few years ago, it’s special.”

“i love that so much,” you smile, “showing gratitude to the men who have supported your family all these years. that’s incredible.”

“it’s nothing like paying tribute to a lost parent,” his smile is a sad one, “but the holidays are such an emotional time, it’s important to keep their spirit alive. can i ask about your dad?”

“absolutely,” you nod your head, smiling at him, you were surprising yourself now. you didn’t talk about your dad with anyone other than your family and your boys.

“when did he pass? how?” he asked, leaning his arm against the top of the couch, elbow bending to hold up his head.

“my twin and i were twelve, my sister was six. ten years ago,” you nodded, thinking about the dinner you had with your family earlier this year, marking the decade of his passing. “fatal car accident, drunk driver hit him on his way home from work– he was a lawyer.”

he groaned, “i’m so fucking sorry, that must’ve been awful for your family to go through.”

“thank you, still is sometimes,” you shot him a tight lipped smile, “he was an incredible man, i’ve forced myself to burn every moment spent with him to memory, i think about him everyday.”

“what’s your step dad like?” he changed the subject and your body went rigid– you hated talking about matt. “when did your mom remarry?”

“eight years ago, i was fourteen. too soon, if you ask me,” you shift your legs, fighting your discomfort, “matt is… something. my siblings love him, vivi was too young to remember much about our dad, so matt was quick to fill the spot. same with ace, he gets along with matt, ace needed a father figure after he passed and matt fit right in with them. happy family,” your smile doesn't reach your eyes.

mingyu points his eyes at you, “but you…?”

“i don’t like him, point blank period,” you release a nervous chuckle, “i despised him when i was thirteen, when they started dating, i didn’t go to their wedding. i hung out with my grandma, my dad’s mom, all day instead. me and matt have never seen eye to eye on anything.”

“why? is it just because he’s… not your dad?” mingyu crosses his arms, not in a judgemental way, but showing he truly just wanted to understand. “you don’t have to answer that.”

“you’re fine, it’s fine,” you shook your head, “he just isn’t the same to me as he is to ace and vivi, and that’s probably partially on me because i never let him in. i hated him when i was younger because he isn’t my dad and he never will be, i thought my siblings looked at him like a replacement and it made me sick.”

“i know he has good qualities but we never formed a bond, i never gave him the opportunity to. he tries to parent me even now and it’s almost funny at this point, i can’t bring myself to accept him. he will never be a parent to me, he’s just a guy who lives in my house.”

mingyu’s nod is slow as he processes, arms uncrossing to put one up on the back of the couch again, “what do your siblings think about him?”

“vivi fully thinks i have issues, ace sees my side a lot, he understands me. tries to be a buffer between matt and i, defends me to matt but defends matt to me,” you couldn’t believe that you were letting all of this information out so easily, but it made you feel better knowing mingyu was the one receiving it.

“of course he does, you got the twin thing going on,” mingyu nods, “i’m happy ace is at least on your side. i’d like to meet him, eventually.”

“meet ace?!” you ask, eyebrows raised, then you thought about it for a second — ace would probably like mingyu, and mingyu would probably like ace. “actually, he’d probably like you.”

“probably?” mingyu puts a hand over his heart, eyebrows furrowed and jaw agape like that hurt his feelings, “everybody likes me.”

you giggle, “ace wouldn’t be the hard one to crack, matt would probably like you, too. my friends would be the ones giving you a hard time.”

“ah, yeosang, san and yunho, right? the three musketeers?” he smiles, “most guys would be terrified if they had a beautiful girl over and her three best friends were guys.”

you laugh, “not for nothing, you and yunho are probably matched in height– he’s the scary one. the other two are just stupid, but they’re my people.”

“he might be as tall as me, but is he as big as me?” mingyu wiggles his eyebrows, making you laugh again. “i want to know your people.”

“yunho is just as tall, but san might be as big as you,” you lift your brows with a tilt of your head, “but you guys could go to the gym together, bunch of doritos.”

that made mingyu’s head fall back in laughter, you joining him before he reaches over to grab your hand, his face falling serious. “thank you for sharing all of that with me, i know it took a lot to be able to say all of that.”

you nod, “for some reason, i trust you. i know we just met,” you shrugged, cheeks flushing, “i don’t know, there’s something about you, i guess. i really like you.”

a smile spreads across mingyu’s face and you feel him tug at your wrist, pulling you forward. you were already inches apart before, but now you’re nearly in his lap, faces mere centimeters apart. your ears burn as he looks into your eyes, searching for something you couldn’t place, his hand coming up to cup your cheek.

“i really like you, too,” he smiles for a split second before he leans forward, attaching his lips to yours, and in that moment you feel every puzzle piece in your brain fit into place. every single feeling of nostalgia, feeling so comfortable with him so fast, sharing so much about yourself when you barely knew the guy– this was why.

everything about kissing kim mingyu felt right, as if you were searching for this your entire life, as if all of those years spent alone and uninterested in dating were actually spent waiting for him. every decision you’ve made, every person you’ve met, the dates you went on before this– it was all to lead you to him. sparks, fireworks, whatever people say about meeting the one, you could add to the conversation now because you understood.

he deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth and you moan. you couldn’t help it, couldn’t fight it, every single nerve ending in your body was on fire. his hand slides to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, your hands flying up to his shoulders, wanting to feel every inch of him.

“been waiting to do this,” he whispered between kisses, his breath hot on your mouth, eyes closed.

you smile into the kiss, his words amplifying your hunger, your hands trailing from his shoulders to his chest, laying your palms flat against his muscled chest. you broke the kiss again, “you’re so fucking sexy.”

“i should be saying that to you,” his hands move from your neck down your back until they scoop under your ass, pulling you onto his lap with ease as he shifts to sit forward, your bodies fully changing position. you gasp at the movement, wrapping your thighs around him, hands clinging to his shoulders again. the thought that he could flip you around with as much ease as he just showed you had your brain doing cartwheels, you could tell just by looking at mingyu that he was strong, but him proving it was a completely different story.

he caught your lips with his own again, hands still under your ass until they moved to your hips, digging his thumbs into your skin. you moaned into his mouth at the feeling and he let out a deep groan, rocking your hips forward. when you felt him beneath you, you couldn’t help but gasp, another sound of pleasure escaping your lips and he smiled into you, whispering, “want you so bad, princess.”

your head falls forward, eyes screwed shut, the stimulation too good to be over layers of clothes. you blamed his actions on sunday, you’ve been thinking about him like this every night before bed with a hand between your thighs, now it’s actually happening. you supposed this is what it was like to be with someone you connected with on a deeper level, your body was responding quicker than your head was, getting lost in a fog, hands trailing to his neck, his jaw– you needed to feel all of him.

he let out a grunt, “take it easy,” he stilled your hips with massive palms, you hadn’t even realized you began moving on your own. “tonight’s about you.”

“want you so bad, gyu,” you were breathless, you sounded like an animal– voice shaky, nearly whining because he stopped you.

he chuckled, voice octaves deeper than it had been, “you’ll have me, but not yet.”

you sat back on his thighs, baffled, eyebrows knitted in clear irritation, “what do you mean, not yet?”

his smile only grew, “i’ll take care of you, i promise,” he spread his thighs which in turn spread yours, his hands trailing up your legs from your knee to your hips. “so spoiled already, what am i gonna do with you?”

you watched his hands travel across your body, back involuntarily arching at his touch, mewls slipping from your lips. you were losing it– fuck waiting, you needed him, you reached for his zipper.

he grabs your wrist before you reach it, making you whine. “did you not hear me when i said tonight’s about you? is your pretty head already too fuzzy for you to think correctly?”

you pouted, looking up to him, trying to mimic chan’s doe eyes as best you could. “please,” you begged, “want to touch you so bad.”

“begging will get you nowhere,” he leaned back on the couch, a sense of authority filling the space between you, curbing your behavior entirely. “you’ll take what i give you, right?”

you nod, falling into submission with ease, and the smile that grows on his face is despicable. he praises, “good girl, thought so,” before he tugs your wrists forward, and your lips are on his again.

they’re nastier this time, all tongue and teeth, and his hands are everywhere. on your back, on your hips, on your chest, the noises you let out would be embarrassing if you could think about it for longer than half a second. when his thumbs travel up your inner thighs you stiffen, your back arching, moaning into his mouth and he laughs, his chest rising into yours.

“relax for me, princess,” he says into your mouth and you obey without even thinking about it, body sinking into his. he slips his right palm between your legs to cup your center over your pants and you grind yourself into him involuntarily, releasing a gasp as you finally get stimulation where you needed it most.

your head falls forward again, breaths growing heavy at the contact. he switches to two fingers instead, adding pressure along your clothed slit, pausing at your clit to rub small circles. you moans are pathetic, grinding into his hand, begging for more but you didn’t dare say it.

“yeah, there you go,” he encourages, voice low and directly in your ear as you grind against his fingers, he doesn’t stop talking, “gonna cum on my fingers when i haven’t even taken your pants off? my girl is so desperate.”

your moans raise in pitch at his words, the slight degradation only getting you there faster, you could taste your orgasm. you didn’t know you were into that kind of thing— you never had any experience in it, you and mingyu certainly didn’t talk about it beforehand.

“go ahead, princess, cum for me,” he encourages and you lose it, unraveling on his hand, his words tipping you over the edge. your moans are strangled in your throat as you finally release, breath stilling as your head sinks entirely onto his shoulder, his hand still riding you through it. when you back off his touch he halts his movement, bringing a hand up to your hair, fingers lightly scratching your scalp as he praises you. “so good for me, baby, did so good.”

you whimper in response, body completely spent on his lap, limp hands resting on his chest as his thumbs sneak down to hook in your waistband. you could hear his grin in his words, “i hope you don’t think i’m done with you yet, wanna see your pretty face cum on my fingers.”

you lifted your hips off of him and he slips the fabric down your legs one after the other, your brain completely fogged over, too fucked to do anything else but comply. you’d do whatever he said in this state, as long as he kept talking to you.

when you sat back down on his lap his thighs were spread again, your legs sat wide over his own, pussy on display for eyes that couldn’t see it. he bared his teeth in a smile, head laying atop the back of the couch, looking at you through lowered eyes. it should’ve been mortifying, being so exposed to him when he hadn't even taken his shirt off, but the feeling didn’t come to mind when he looked at you as if he'd eat you alive.

“so good,” he praised, the smile not once leaving his face, “you wanna cum again, don’t you baby?”

you nod, whimpering, hips bucking into nothing beneath them. mingyu was so hard, you could see the ridiculous tent in his pants, you were nearly drooling at the sight. you want to see him, touch him, taste the full length of him— it was cruel how he was keeping himself from you, but you still didn’t tell him, maybe he’d praise you more if you didn’t.

“say it,” his hands were on your bare hips, the skin on skin contact had you heaving. you couldn’t form any words other than make me cum, begging three times before his hands moved.

his fingers moved to your core and his lips were on yours again as his fingers slipped inside, index and middle, immediately curling inside of you. you plunged forward, your entire abdomen folding, the slight overstimulation combined with how thick his fingers felt inside of you was devastating. you were louder now, moans turning to cries, hips driving forward to match the thrusts of his fingers.

“fuck, mingyu,” words returned to you, a moment of clarity in the midst of the fog, “feels so fucking good, please don’t stop.”

“there she is,” his lips attached to your jaw, kissing down your neck as his fingers created a rhythm, “came back to me, hmm?”

“yes,” you moaned out, words breathy and light, “want you to watch me when i cum.”

he groaned, head falling back onto the couch again, his other hand reaching forward to rub your clit again. you cried out curses, watching mingyu as he watched you. you whimpered, “wanna feel you so bad, want you to fuck me gyu.”

his eyebrows furrowed, jaw going slack, quickening his pace on your clit. you could feel another orgasm forming in the pit of your stomach, eyes falling shut, head lolling forward before you snapped it back upright. he wanted to see you, you’d let him have whatever he wanted.

“so close,” you cried, he was so fucking good at this— not once did the rhythm he created falter as you thrashed against him, following your hips with experienced fingers. “gonna cum, gyu.”

“cum all over my fingers baby, give it to me,” he leaned forward, catching your lips with his own in a kiss before he growled, “cum for me.”

the order had you seeing stars behind your eyelids, your body obeying without you even processing it, shaking in his arms as you got lost in your orgasm like a fucking riptide. this one was far more powerful than the last, it took you longer to ride out the full length of it, the aftershocks hitting you in tremors.

“good girl, that was so hot,” his voice was strained as he praised you, clearly trying to hold himself back, but you couldn’t place why he wouldn’t do anything about it.

“want you inside,” you said into his neck, head fallen onto his shoulder by now, small aftershocks of your orgasm still coursing through you. his hands rubbed your back, soothing touches to bring you back, a huff of amusement leaving his lips.

“you’re insatiable,” he teased, hand dropping to leave a small tap on your bare ass. “you’ll have me another night.”

“why?” you whined, body curling into his further, arms laying limp at your sides, “you don’t wanna fuck me?”

“don’t do that,” he planted a kiss to the side of your head as his hands continued, leaving calming strokes on your back, “be patient.”

you sit up slowly, “i don’t want to be patient.”

“then call up the blondie,” he shot you an amused smile, “i’m sure he’ll be glad to fix your issue.”

“mingyu,” you huffed, “that’s not funny. i’ll be patient.”

“never heard a woman complain after coming twice,” he shook his head, watching with careful eyes as you stood off his lap, reaching for your pants.

“i am so sorry that i want your cock so bad i’m begging for it,” you teased back as you slipped them up your legs, a playful smile on your lips.

he lifted a brow, “touché.”

you stayed at mingyu’s place for hours after, half listening to whatever movie he put on his tv while you fought to not get lost in conversation. it was too hard when he put on a romcom, the first time he nitpicked a detail the fight was over, entering a debate about how stupid it was for the main girl to be interested in the man who was clearly an asshole. mingyu thought it was stupid, you stood up for the girl– you’ve been there too many times to not stick up for her. at least half the movie was spent talking about the movie.

you spent the other half of it lazily kissing, hands traveling across each other’s skin, he let you maneuver your hands under his shirt, feeling his chiseled abdomen, his chest, his back— you were right, every part of him was strong. his fingers had slipped under your pants again, the movie was over for far too long before the two of you had come up for air.

but he still didn’t take it further— didn’t let you touch him below his belt. you couldn’t understand why, until he finally gave you a reason, “i just want to wait, i know it’s old fashioned. don’t make fun of me.”

your body went hot, you were now convinced that anything he did could turn you on. “until when?! marriage?!” you joked, and he only responded by pressing his lips to yours again, effectively shutting you up.

you didn’t want to leave– you knew mingyu had meetings early the next morning, you had classes, but his couch was so comfortable, the blanket he threw over you was so cozy, you couldn’t fathom going outside in the cold air or sitting in your car that would take way too long to warm up. you felt like you were in your own bubble, just you and mingyu, no one knew where you were or what you were doing. you didn’t want it to end.

you checked your phone after hours, your phone screen flooded with notifications. you scrolled through as mingyu traced patterns along your stomach over the blanket, his head lying just below it, both of you sideways on his massive sectional.

8:28 pm

yeo: tiny are u alive

8:51 pm

yeo: tiny i am getting nervous yeo: pls answer

it being past ten now, you were scared to continue scrolling.

9:23 pm

sannie: yeo is tweaking sannie: he is telling ace lol

you sighed, eyes closing, your bubble was burst.

9:31 pm

yeo: ace did not gaf yeo: bro said ur prolly on another date yeo: good luck have fun get some

you swiped out of your groupchat, seeing an unopened text in your thread with yunho.

10:01 pm

yunho: worried about u yunho: hope this one’s treating you better

you smiled, fingers typing away– yunho was the only one who knew who mingyu was.

10:23 pm

you: dont be worried im fine you: hes perfect he's the one you: thanksgiving secured

the bubble appeared in seconds, then it went away.

— yunho liked your messages.

8fd masterlist | main masterlist

tags :p @chimivx @emmxxsworld @alisonyus @livixcore @skzswife @dawn-iscozy

#8fd #8 first dates #kim mingyu #mingyu x you #mingyu x reader #mingyu smut #seventeen #svt x you #svt au #svt x reader #svt smut #ateez x reader #skz x reader

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