#friend oc shriek | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sooniebby · 8 months ago

Note

hello, if you still take requests, please hear me out

reader is roommates with a guy. a rather hot guy, to be honest

reader is in denial whenever someone asks if he's attracted to his roommate, but it's obvious he is, he can't take his eyes off him... taking quick looks at his crotch...

anyways, unfortunately the room only has one bed, in which they sleep on together. normally, they sleep each on each side of the bed, but tonight, roommate hugs reader from behind, sleeping spooning

reader won't admit, but he's sooo horny. he just lowers his hand and starts jerking off right there and then, careful not to wake roommate up

little does he know his roommate was just pretending to be asleep and is well sure of what he's doing. now, roommate will show reader what he's made of

would you mind writing something like this?

ఌ 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄

W.C › 9.2k

Warnings › this is a random oc. Bottom male reader!!! Changed a few parts of the plot and added kinks since there wasn’t any. Get ready for me using song lyrics, just for a little bit. Anything not translated will be translated at the ending notes. if I have any Korean wrong correct me! I appreciate feedback, I’m not fluent!

Kinks › dubcon, lite somnophilia, dom/sub, manhandling, predator/prey, size difference, blood, possessiveness, dacryphilia

Words to know › 자기야 (jagiya/jagi) means “baby/sweetie”. 선배 (seonbae) title for someone older in school/work. 형 (hyung/hyeong) name for older male from a younger male. 아/야 (a/ya) showing closeness to someone. 동생 (Dongsaeng) little brother/sister, doesn’t have to be a biological sibling/can be a friend.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

❝ 김진우 ❞

Those words were practically all that you heard these days. You know, when you originally came to this university, you had big plans. Plans to date as much as possible. Finally lose your virginity!

But they’re nothing important compared to who you unfortunately got paired to dorm with.

Kim Jinu.

A third year at your university. You felt bitter, to say the least. Of course you would have to unlucky chance of being paired with an upperclassman than another freshman. Gah, you wanted to cry.

Anyone that came up to you was always asking about Mister Kim Jinu! What about you?! You were handsome too!

Well, you were a potato next to Jinu.

The Korean beauty standards just had to pick favorites.

A slow soft sigh left your lips as you stared at your empty screen in front of you. Your fingers twiddled with your pen before you leaned over and pressed it against the screen, attempting to finish the outline of your sketch. You were an art major, dreaming of being an animator or even a comic book artist.

Much to your parents dismay. You haven’t had your mother’s signature kimchi in almost two months now due to your choice. But you tried not to dwell on it! You wanted to be happy.

And if being a starving artist is the only way, so be it!

Speaking of starving….

Your stomach growled as you whined and tossed the pen onto the desk, lying back in your chair as you swirled around. You’d have better luck being a Kpop idol at this point. Maybe it’s not too late. Who doesn’t like a filler member?

You glance in the small circle mirror resting on your desk and probe at your cheeks. Plastic surgery isn’t too much, right? Maybe a slimmer nose? Double eyelids?

“(Name) Oppa..? What are you doing?”

A shriek left your lips as you looked back at Cho Yoona, your classmate. A tight smile pulled on your lips as you took the iced coffee she had in her hands.

“Nothing, nothing. Oppa is just having a mental breakdown.” You said, quickly taking a sip of your coffee to gain some energy back.

Yoona grabbed a chair and pulled it close to your desk, sitting down next to you. “Hm. What are you doing now?”

“Ah? Well, the theme was something out of our comfort zone, so I was trying to create… uh… nude portraits..”

“Huh? Nude? Will Professor Lee Hyunki approve that?”

You shrugged, placing the coffee down onto the desk. “I have a backup plan. I haven’t been able to get in touch with him anyway.” A groan left your throat as you saved your draft before shutting off your computer. “Anyway, let’s go. It’s getting late.”

As you and Yoona packed up, she suddenly looked over to you with a big smirk.

“Oppa… are you… close to Kim Jinu Seonbae?” She asked, looking up at you with wide eyes.

“No.” You quickly said, rolling your eyes. “We’re just roommates. Not close at all.”

“Oh.” She muttered, pouting. “You’re lucky, Oppa. You get to be so close to Jinu Seonbae. Isn’t he handsome up close?” She squealed, clutching her notebook tight against her chest. “I’d die if I get to see him right after he takes a shower!!!”

“Get your mind out of the gutter.” You muttered, playfully flicking her forehead. The two of you left the classroom, turning off the lights and closing the door.

Once Yoona went her own separate way to her own dorms, you couldn’t help but think about what she said. Jinu… in just a towel..?

You heaved as you accidentally swallowed your coffee a bit too fast, pounding at your chest once you finally reached your dorm. Your hands fiddle with your keys while you fight off the harsh coughing burning at your chest. The door swings open as you struggle inside, slamming the door behind you.

Tossing your bag onto your side of the room, you make a beeline for the mini fridge and pull out a water bottle, downing it in seconds. As the cool refreshment calmed the coughing beast within you, you suddenly realized you weren’t holding your coffee anymore.

Your eyes trailed down to see it lying spilled on the floor not too far from your feet.

And unfortunately, it spilled right on a stake of papers near Jinu’s backpack. A shrill girlish scream right of a horror movie leaves your throat as you collapse to your knees and pick up the coffee cup, seeing the damage.

Your fingers felt numb as they slowly peeled the notebook open, seeing the pages stuck together like glue. The once white sheets dark in black, ice cubes coating it like sprinkles. Holy fuck.

Fuck fuck.

Jinu was going to kill you!

With the coffee coating the paper, you could hardly read what was written in it. But judging from the top cover, it looked to be a study guide or something.

Your eyes squinted as you tried to read what you could in hopes of gaging just how bad you fucked up. The words that you could only read were: “바보…토끼…자기…”

What the fuck?

Idiot, rabbit, babe?

What the hell was Jinu writing about?

Jinu was a business major. You couldn’t recall him taking any classes dealing with animals. Maybe it was a code word? Well, all that mattered was that it didn’t seem too important so you quickly grabbed the notebook. Drying it with a hair dryer seemed like your safest bet.

The room door opened, catching your attention as you shoved the notebook behind your back. There stood Jinu, obviously waving bye to someone before finally looking into the room. His eyes zoned in on you, face just frozen for a solid second.

You panicked, thinking that he could possibly see the notebook behind your back. Not the fact you were on your knees, staring up at him with wide cute eyes, and plump lips pulled into a slight pout. Especially with your sweater that was large and baggy, something you preferred, with one of the sleeves down—showing your bare shoulders.

Why would you wear tanks underneath the sweater? The buildings here aren’t that cold.

“Jinu Seonbae..!” You whisper, giggling nervously as you pressed the notebook tight against your back, taking a peek to make sure it didn’t stick out. “How.. was your day?”

Jinu blinked. Once, twice, before a large grin pulled onto his face and his eyes practically closed into those crescent moons girls swooned about. Whatever he was thinking about was long gone.

“I thought I told you to call me hyung, (Name). We’re going to be roommates for a while anyway.” Jinu said, closing the door behind him as he slipped off his shoes and put away his jacket.

You wanted him to stay as far as possible—you couldn’t have him seeing the mess you made! Your eyes trailed around the room, looking for something to distract him with. The floor was feeling sticky from the coffee, its spill coating the floor and now your knees. You didn’t even noticed you had accidentally knelt in the damn puddle.

“H..Hyung! Uhm, can you… get me some napkins?” You yelled, stopping Jinu just as he began to walk past the bathroom door. He balked at your raised voice but simply hummed, turning on his heels to grab some from the connected bathroom.

Your hands gripped the sticky notebook and shoved it underneath one of your old textbooks on your desk, standing up just as Jinu came back.

“Spilled something?”

“Mhm… just some coffee.” You muttered, thanking him for the napkins as you kneeled back down to wipe it up. “I don’t think it got on any of your things.”

Jinu let out a noncommittal hum, standing just inches from you as you bent over. You felt watched—to a strange and uncomfortable amount but you didn’t want to say anything. Once you finished, you glanced up at him, hoping he possibly didn’t notice his missing notebook.

But this position.

No.

No, it was his stare really. You felt yourself squirm, wondering how a guy could look so cute not too long ago and watch you like a hawk the next.

“Ah, (Name), did you eat the sandwich I bought you?” Jinu suddenly asked, his gaze shifting to his desk as he moved past you, sitting down on his chair. “I tried to remember what you liked.”

“Oh uhm. I gave it to my dongsaeng.”

The soft taps on the desk stopped, causing you to look over at Jinu. He was facing the window so you couldn’t get a read on his face. But the total silence made you feel as if what you said was the wrong answer.

“Dongsaeng? Biological?”

“Uhm. Yes. My little brother came to visit me.” You muttered, feeling a bit weirded out he asked that. “He skipped school to see me, but I didn’t have enough money to take him out so I just gave him my lunch. Sorry, Seonbae.”

Jinu’s light tapping on the desk began again as he let out a laugh. “It’s okay! I’ll just make sure to get you two next time.” He turned to face you, a large grin on his lips. Any tension in your body slipped away as you couldn’t help but smile back.

Kim Jinu wasn’t too bad of a roommate.

Just a shame he kept cockblocking you.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“Wa, Hyung, these lover letters are all for you?”

On your desk, covering your keyboard and almost the entire space area, was a small mountain of love letters. In your classroom for art major, you all had small little cubicles that was essentially your work station. Unlucky for you, many people found out exactly where yours was to leave gifts.

Oh but not for you.

Are you kidding?

They were all for Jinu.

Your classmate, Im Taeil, reached over and grabbed one of the food that were left, reading the sticky note attached to it. “Oh. This one is for Kim Jinu Seonbae.”

“They’re all for him.” You muttered bitterly, grabbing a heap of them and stomping over to the trash, dumping them with no remorse. Taeil watched you in awe as you cleaned your desk in seconds, leaving just the few snacks.

“Why do they give them to you instead of Jinu Seonbae?” Taeil asked, pulling at the rest of the sticky notes to read what was on them. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just confess to him? Wow, these notes leave nothing to the imagination. I think some of these are from guys too.”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing one of the chocolate bars and pulling it open, taking a big bite. “I don’t know! Maybe they can’t handle rejection. I hope they know I’m not his damn servant!” You plopped down onto your chair and sighed, wanting to just drown in your sorrows.

So much for getting laid or finding a partner.

All that anyone wanted was Kim Jinu!

Agh!! You just wanted to say, “꺼져!” But you knew saying “go to hell” to everyone was a bad idea and would practically send you into the shadow realm of no friends.

Though your only friends seemed to be Taeil and Yoona. But you didn’t really think they liked you as a person. You were just the easiest to talk to.

“Hyung, can I…?” Taeil suddenly whispered, catching your attention. His hands made a grabby motion as he inched close to one of the snacks on your desk. You mutely waved and allowed him to grab whatever he wanted. You’d probably just give the rest to Yoona or something. Ah, maybe your little brother…?

“Oh, Oppa! Taeil!” Yoona greeted, the door pushed open as she carried a bag filled with goods. She skipped over, a bright cheery grin on her lips as she stood right in front of you and Taeil. “Look what Jinu Seonbae gave me! Ah, he’s so cool!”

Taeil peaked into the bag and pulled out a bag of chips. “Wow. He really got these for you?” You couldn’t deny the slight twitch in your lips at his wording. Her? Just for Yoona? No way. No way…

Yoona shook her head. “Not just for me! It’s mainly for (Name) Oppa!” She took out another pair of chips and two sodas, handing one over to Taeil. “The rest is for you! There’s a note inside.”

The bag was practically thrusted onto your lap as Yoona walked over to her desk across from yours and plopped down, eagerly chowing down on her snacks.

Taeil looked curious on what the note said but seemed to know there was limits to his nosy behavior as he sat down at his desk two seats away from you. Huh. Mainly for you?

Weird.

You pulled open the plastic bag and pulled out a soda and chips, similar to what he gave Taeil and Yoona. But there was more: two turkey sandwiches. You pulled out the one that had a sticky note on it, tilting your head as you read his handwriting out to yourself.

❝ 여기, 샌드위치 두 개요. 오직 토끼만을 위한! 아니 동생! ❞

❝ Here, two sandwiches. For Bunny only! No Dongsaeng! ❞

“No dongsaeng?”

You shrieked, looking back to see Taeil suddenly standing behind you. He grinned sheepishly, taking a step back.

“Sorry, Hyung. You got so quiet… I was a bit worried.”

Yoona perked up from her desk, tilting her head. “What does it say?” She walked over and glanced down at the note. “Who’s bunny?”

You shrugged, “not sure. I’ve never been called a bunny before.” You let out another pathetic cry of shock when Yoona and Taeil were suddenly close to your face, eyes wide as if they were examining you like a piece of meat.

“Really? You look more like a deer to me.” Yoona muttered.

“No… I see the bunny. Ah, but maybe hamster too. You have chubby cheeks, Hyung!” Taeil chimed in.

You rolled your eyes, wanting to push them away but you kinda enjoyed the attention. You weren’t really into the whole animal representative thing that a lot of Kpop idols did. Just didn’t see the purpose, especially after you grew up. But you wouldn’t lie and say you didn’t like being referred to as such cute animals.

You could’ve gotten an insect!

The rest of the day was uneventful. You actually ended up eating both sandwiches Jinu gave you, slaving away at your project. It wasn’t going as great as you envisioned—nowhere near. You had no problem creating a nude body it was just difficult to make it… artistically pleasing and not full on horny.

❝ 잠깐만요 시간 있나요?…. ❞

Yoona’s Bluetooth speaker sang the melody of AOA - Excuse me as you stared at the rough draft in front of you. You wished you didn’t pick digital art for this project and stick to traditional but there was no use complaining now.

Your wrist tensed as you zoomed in on the face of your model—creating the soft brush strokes of his hair. Sharp eyes, black in color. The outline of lips that you would paint in pink. Maybe even red. Earrings? No, he doesn’t have any.

He’s gotten bigger. Definitely compared to the pictures you’ve seen of him last year from his friends. Weights..? Boxing? His knuckles looked bruised sometimes when you saw him.

Red, aching. Cuts of skin. Bright and glossy from the ointment he’d put on it. Tanned skin. Red against tanned skin—a perfect contrast.

Does it hurt to move? If you kissed it, would the blood coat your lips?

It was such an edgy thought but you wondered how it’d look to use his blood as lipstick.

His thumb pressed on your bottom lip, slowly smearing it. Would he call you pretty? Kissing you so you both can taste the metallic rush of blood. Maybe you can taste something else. White, maybe?

Your breathing shuddered as your grip on your pen tightened, legs pressing tightly together. Red and white. Would he like you in that? Pretty and pliant just for him to claim. Your free hand gently pulled at your pants, alleviating some pressure against your crotch.

Bunny. Were you his bunny?

Is that what he thought of you? Helpless and defenseless? His fingernails digging into your soft skin as blood spilled, your soft moans teetering on the verge of tears.

What did he remind you of?

A fox?

Don’t they eat bunnies?

You didn’t know why the thought made your whole body spasm. Your breathing getting heavy as the pen began to slip from your hand. He’d chase you. Yeah, that’s what a fox does to their prey. Chase you until couldn’t run anymore, huddled in a dead end as he got closer.

You’d cry and beg but he’d take you. Because he wants you—wants you so bad he can’t control himself. He’d always wanted you beneath him screaming his name for all to hear. As you became his prey.

❝ 벗어날 수 없는 걸 ❞

“Oh! I love this song! Taeil, do you like The Boyz?” Yoona said, turning up the volume. Taeil hummed, looking up from his screen. His eyes looked bloodshot at this point. How long have you guys been here?

“I prefer girl groups. Like Red Velvet!” Taeil said, proudly showing his phone that had a Lock Screen of Seulgi. Yoona cooed and showed her Lock Screen of Kevin. Wow, you’re stuck with Kpop fans. You rubbed your eyes, looking away from your screen to stop seeing the dark spots appearing in your vision.

Taeil and Yoona began talking about their favorite groups while you listened to the song. It felt oddly fitting for the mood you were in right now. You’d have to ask Yoona for the name later. Right now you need a drink, stat.

You grabbed your water bottle and took long gulps as you finally glanced back at your drawing. It took a moment for it to fully register before you let out a scream.

No it was certainly manly.

“Hyung?!”

“Oppa?!”

There—right in front of you—was Kim Jinu staring right back at you. You…

You fucking drew him?!

❝ 온통 너로 물들여질 테니… ❞

No way. No fucking way.

But there it was, staring back at you. His fluffy black hair slicked back as if he was drenched in water. Black eyes with his signature big nose. His lips weren’t pulled into his usual smiles. You had drawn him with all of his features except that damn smile.

Damn Kim Jinu… he was affecting you in ways you didn’t think was possible.

You quickly saved your draft on the tablet and turned it off, needing to just go to your dorm and sleep this daze off. “Yoona… Taeil… I need to sleep.” You muttered, Yoona and Taeil staring at you with worried looks. “You guys should go sleep too. It’s late.”

Yoona and Taeil didn’t fight it. It looked as if they were waiting for you to give them permission. You waved them off, stating you needed to clean up a bit before leaving. Your professor didn’t like crumbs. But you didn’t clean, you just stared at your tablet. The large tablet that the school provided that was now logged on into your account, holding a secret.

Your breathing slowed as you reached over and pressed the power button, waiting as it lit up. The soft taps filled the room as you logged back in and clicked your recent save. He appeared in front of you again.

That fox.

A shudder left you as you pulled down your pants, along with your boxers, as your cock plopped out against your tummy. It was small. Smaller than most. Around 4 inches. Possibly 3 really. But it didn’t matter to you really—you didn’t think you’d ever want to top anyway.

Your hand grasped your cock as you began to pump it slowly, staring straight at the drawing in front of you. His cock. You wondered what it looked like.

You respected his privacy so you never dared to stare at him whenever he came out of the shower.

But you wish you did. Wish you could have an accurate picture of how it would look. How it would be deep inside of you. Would it make a bulge in your stomach?

Is he thick? Long? Maybe both.

You arched your back against the chair as you took shallow breaths, your whimpers filling the empty room. Your toes curled as you whined and mewled, wishing someone else was jerking you off.

Oh who were you kidding?

You wished it was Jinu.

Even as you reached your orgasm, cum coating your tummy, you didn’t feel any relief.

What fun was it if he didn’t chase you?

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“Jagi….”

A hum left your throat as you buried your face into your arms, shivering slightly from the cool air that tickled your stomach.

“Jagiya.”

Puffs of air brushed against your cheek. It was warm, a nice contrast compared to the cool air that covered you. A finger gently touched your cheek. Poking and doing small circles around the outline of it. The hand trailed down your face to your back, rubbing circles as it started a slight rhythm.

❝ 날 놀리는 거야, 예쁜 자기야. ❞

Despite the taps jolting against your skin, it almost lulled you back into sleep. It was something you missed, the touch of someone special. Slowly, it inched further down, moving to the end of your sweater. Your body flinched at the hand now teasing your skin directly as it grazed it your stomach.

❝ 무방비 토끼. 내가 너를 먹어치울게 ❞

It felt sticky. A deep chuckle reverberated against your back. The touch on your skin was possessive, rubbing and massaging your stomach. Your body flinched as your breathing began to stutter. A hand slipped further down, easily squeezing its way into your pants. The sensual touch—it felt as if you belonged to them and only them.

❝ 도망기면 쫓이갈거야, 토끼야… ❞

A gasp left your lips as your eyes opened, looking around to notice that you were still in the classroom. Fuck. Your body tensed as you moved away from your desk, groaning at the awkward position you slept in. As you stretched, your gaze flickered to an ice coffee on your desk with a sticky note attached to it.

It had a badly drawn bunny on it with a heart next to it. The words: “fighting!” were scribbled beside the crude drawing. You couldn’t help but smile, placing the note on small bulletin board near your desk.

It must’ve been your hyung, Lee Minjae. Or who you affectionately called, Minnie Hyung. He was the one who pushed you to pursue your major instead of what your parents wanted. Such a great hyung.

The whole thing about Jinu felt like a distant memory. You’d have to change what you’re submitting for the project, immediately.

No way in hell were you going to submit a nude of your fucking roommate.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

There was a something wrong with your bed.

After you took your shower and changed into comfy pajamas, you noticed there was something wrong your bed. Well for one the fucking mattress was missing. You had called Jinu if he knew what happened but all he said was that he found a nest of spider eggs in it so the school confiscated it.

Unlucky for you the school were cheap stakes and it was gonna take a bit of time before you got a new mattress. Jinu had said you would be sharing with him but you didn’t necessarily think you could survive something like that.

Him pressed up against you.

Would it…

You pushed the thought away. Your eyes trailed off to your desk when you suddenly remembered the ruined notebook. You walked over and grabbed it from beneath one of your textbooks, seeing it in its fully ruined glory. There was no salvaging it at this point. You hoped Jinu didn’t care for this dumb thing.

But you were curious to see if you could read it fully now.

You slowly peeled it open and bristled at just how bad the damage was. Half of the pages were stuck together and when you tried to part it they tore. The pen he used to write it had smudged from the liquid so his handwriting was ineligible.

Right before you had given up to just toss it, you came across the last page, seeing a word you could understand. “Jagi.” Huh. Who was this babe of his? You tried to push away the slight bitterness in your throat the thought of that.

Of course he’d have a girlfriend. He was Kim fucking Jinu.

It’d be a shock if he didn’t.

You tossed the notebook into the trash can and made sure to put your food snacks on top of it just in case Jinu decided to accidentally look in there. If Jinu ever asked about his notebook, you’d pretend you never even seen him with a notebook before.

Now all you had to deal with was the problem of sleeping in the same bed with Jinu. You’d survive.

Hopefully.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

You haven’t survived. It’s been two weeks and it felt as if you hadn’t slept in years. Jinu keeps two pillows between the both you while you slept but somehow the two of you always end up close. It wasn’t even a day ago when you woke up to yourself resting right on Jinu, your cheek pressed against his chest while your hand palmed his neck.

He had a big chest—you wished you had a little bit of a degenerative attitude to feel him up.

But you’d rather not be known as the perverted roommate.

“(Name)-Ah? Something wrong?” A hand gently rests on your shoulder as you glanced up to see Lee Minjae staring down at you. A cute grin pulled on your lips as you placed your pen down to grip one of his hands. You just liked touching him.

“Minnie Hyung! What are you doing in the art department?”

Minjae smirked, leaning down as your noses touch. “Can’t check in on my dongsaeng? Your classmates have been telling me that you’ve been cooped up in here. It’s not good for you to stare at the screen for this long.” You giggled, watching as he pulled away.

“Mhm. I’m okay, promise!” You could feel yourself acting cuter in Minjae’s presence. It wasn’t shocking. He always made you feel safe to act how you do behind closed doors. You could wear whatever you wanted around him without being judged.

A perfect, perfect hyung.

“Ah, Hyung, thank you for the coffee last time! I enjoyed it.”

Minjae hummed. “Coffee? I didn’t bring you coffee.”

“What? You didn’t? Then…” You pulled your lips into a pout as you thought about who would do something like that for you. It couldn’t be Yoona and Taeil. You weren’t close to anyone else.

“Ah, did my pretty dongsaeng finally get a secret admirer?” Minjae grinned, playfully pulling at your cheeks while you whined. The two of you began to giggle like little boys as you stared up at Minjae with a look of pure content.

You hoped you had Minjae with you forever.

A soft knock on the door caught your attention as you and Minjae glanced to the right to see who it was. The position you were in was almost of that of a couple. Your hand grasping Minjae’s as they rest on your shoulders. The previous nose rubbing and even just you looking up at him like he hung up the moon.

Were you two a couple?

❝ 타오른 이 감정은… ❞

Jinu was having a terrible day. First he had to entertain a few random teachers with something he didn’t even care to remember. Second he was bothered by some fourth years about a project they needed help on. And now, he had to deal with Cho Yoona and Im Taeil’s yapping about their favorite song while he walked to your classroom.

That song Yoona was playing just made him angrier. Insanity was the name of the song, at least that’s what she said. Jinu felt the same and thought if he had to see something else that pissed him off he’d die a slow death.

So of course he had to see you, his bunny, making fucking whore eyes to some random seonbae.

What the fuck?!

Jinu forced a tight grin and held up a bag filled with food. Food that was just for you but of course he can’t say that. Despite himself, he tried to keep an easy going and fun attitude when speaking to other people. Though he was wondering if he should forgo that for punting Lee Minjae into the sun.

That stupid pig.

You wouldn’t even look at Jinu, you haven’t been looking at him often these days. He knew it was because you were embarrassed about the sleeping arrangements. But it was the only way he believed you could get closer to him.

So what if he deliberately put a spider and other insects in your mattress in hopes they laid eggs and ruin it so then it would force you to sleep on the same bed with him?

You don’t understand any of his other hints or flirting attempts.

He needed results fast!

You were hopping away to any other dick that wasn’t his and he couldn’t have that.

This chase he was having with you was starting to make him insane. If he didn't have you beneath him soon he wouldn't survive another night with you. His whole plan about having you sleep on his bed honestly felt as if it was back firing on him. You were so cuddly when you slept, always finding a way to move over the pillow barrier.

He always pretended he was asleep when you woke up in a panic, always pulling away before he could truly saver your touch—your warmth.

He was truly going insane. All he could remember was the first time he ever saw you. But he couldn't think about it further when he felt Lee Minjae's hand pat him on the back. Jinu fought every muscle in his face to not immediately grimace at the other's touch.

"(Name)-Ah, Yoona, Taeil, I'll take my leave now. I don't wanna bother you guys any longer." Minjae leaned down towards you and Jinu felt his upper lip twitched as he watched the older with his stupid dyed blonde hair that looked fried and crispy nuzzle his nose against yours.

If that wasn't enough, Minjae wrapped his arms around your neck and held you close as he pressed a wet kiss on your cheek. You shrieked and struggled against his hold, trying to avoid the kiss. But you hardly put up a fight, all giggly and smiley. You looked so small in Minjae's arms, so pliant and easy to hold.

Jinu pulled at his sweatpants, coughing slightly. That seemed to catch Minjae's attention as he stopped his childish assault and gave (Name) a cheeky smirk. Yoona began cooing at how cute you and Minjae looked together.

You didn't. No way. Jinu fought the urge to pull Minjae away from you.

Taeil tilted his head, "Jinu Seonbae, are you okay? Your eyebrows are so furrowed. You might pop a blood vessel."

The others looked over at Jinu, Yoona and Minjae questioning if he was alright, you especially with a look of concern in your doe eyes.

Good.

Worry about him and him alone.

Pay attention to only him.

"It's nothing," Jinu said, puling out his signature lady killer smile. "I think I just need to eat something, I haven't had a proper lunch in ages." Yoona immediately swooned while Taeil rolled his eyes. Minjae seemed in deep though as he stared at Jinu, the fourth year tilting his head as if he was digging deep into Jinu's soul. Figuring him out with a just a look.

Minjae grinned. "Let your seonbae take you out, yeah?" He suddenly said, catching everyone's attention. "I know a place not too far from here that sells great tteokbokki."

Like I'd want to be caught dead with you... Jinu thought to himself but he simply hummed. "Sure, Seonbae. Bye, Yoona, Taeil..."

Jinu stared right at you as Minjae pulled away from you. Your eyes flickered over to Jinu and you offered him a tight smile, waving slightly. "See you, Jinu Seonbae."

"See you, (Name)." He whispered, mostly just happy you even looked him in the eye.

But his happiness was short lived when you looked at Minjae and offered him a cute smile. A smile that you’ve never gave him. "Bye, Minnie Hyung!"

Minnie Hyung?!

Jinu followed Minjae out of the classroom, curses swirling in his mind as he stared at the man beside him. Minjae chuckled after a moment or so and looked over at Jinu with a smirk. "Y'know, you can't blow my head off with just your stare. I didn't know you were into my (Name)-Ah."

His? Jinu was fine with being expelled at this point but Minjae suddenly stopped in his tracks. "Jinu-Ya," he placed his hand on Jinu's shoulder while Jinu wondered what gave the man the audacity to use such a title with him. "If you want (Name)-Ah, you have to take him. There's so many wolves that want him." He smirked knowingly, his finger tapping Jinu's shoulder.

Just as Jinu was about to speak, Minjae pressed his finger on his lips. What the fuck? "Listen to your hyung, Jinu-Ya. With someone so naive like (Name)-Ah, you just take him like you own him. Chase after him, there is a dead end soon."

With that, he pulled away and smirked. "Tell me how the chase goes. I've been waiting for someone to snatch up my dongsaeng."

Jinu just stood there blank faced in the middle of the hallway as Minjae walked away. Just what the fuck was that? He didn't even think too hard about it when he realized he didn't have to worry about you and Minjae. Phew, that stress was short lived.

But what did he mean by dead end?

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

You were going insane.

It felt you were being watched these days. You had finally finished your project, having going with another idea and completely abandoning the whole nude thing. But it still sat in your drafts, practically calling you everyday. Sometimes you'd go back...

You'd finish certain parts of it. His body fully detailed expect that dreaded crotch. His dick. You wouldn't dare make what you believed his dick to look like. There was still some sense of self respect deep inside you.

Just not strong enough to not pay attention when you were drawing something for fun. You had a art account that you posted on like once every month of gay art you drew. So you were creating the piece, feeling in the mood to do something with oral fixation.

Only for you to notice instead of the usual two same characters you stuck to, it was Jinu as the top. Which, fair, it wouldn't be too different from what you had literally done weeks ago.

No, the problem was the partner.

You drew yourself.

You fucking drew yourself.

The drawing felt so real compared to the others you've made. Drawing Jinu between your legs, holding you up, bending you over on the bed. Your shoulders rest on the bed while your legs curled into yourself. His mouth biting the flesh of your ass, his eyes staring right at you, the real you.

Of course you had to angle it this way. Fucking pervert.

You tried to salvage the drawing but each stroke on that cursed tablet just made the partner look more and more like you. Okay, you were desperate for sex at this point. It was too much. You pressed the delete button on the sketch and powered off the tablet.

"I'm going, Taeil. Don't stay too late."

With lighting speed, you rushed to your dorm, trying to ignore the growing boner in your pants. Why did you have to like someone like Jinu? Out of all the people at this stupid university. Even Minjae would've been better than Kim Jinu of all people. But you couldn't complain any further because when you stormed into your dorm, fucking Kim Jinu was there, sitting at his desk.

Jinu glanced over at you and grinned, taking off his glasses as he shut off his laptop. "You're back earlier than normal. Did you end up finishing quick?"

You numbly nodded. "Yes... I just need to sleep. My eyes hurt." You couldn't even look at him. His gaze followed you as you grabbed your pajamas. Wherever you stepped, eyes were right on you, watching you like a predator does his next prey.

Bunny and fox.

That's what you imagined him as.

A fox.

It felt so hard to breathe with him near.

Why did it feel like there was no escape?

❝ 지금 너를 미치도록 ❞

The soft sputtering of the fan filled the room as you laid there right awake on Jinu's bed, wondering why you couldn't sleep despite your tired eyes. Jinu was fast asleep, his back pressed your own back. You didn't know why the usual barrier wasn't here tonight but you couldn't care too much about it right now. Not with your growing boner.

You haven't masturbated in two weeks. It's not a shock that the stupid art from earlier was still affecting you like this. You wondered if you could just sneak into the bathroom and quickly jerk one off. Would he notice? Just as you made the decision to get up, strong arms suddenly wrapped around your waist. Your body stiffened as you felt Jinu snuggled against your back.

His face buried in your neck, his nose and bangs softly tickling you.

What...the...fuck?!

Your legs subconsciously clamped shut at him so close. Okay, you were fucking screwed. The thought of moving seemed impossible now with him so close. His grip was so strong that you didn't understand how someone asleep could have such strong coordination.

Despite being cuddled by your crush, your cock was more alive than ever, leaking against your pajama pants. You let out a stifled whimper as you reached down and gently rub the bottom of your palm against your bulge. The relief was almost instant as a guttural groan escaped you before you could stop yourself.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Were you really going to do this?

Yeah.

Yeah you were.

Soon the fan wasn't the only one making noise. Your soft and breathy moans filled the room as you jerked off. Your body flinched from the pressure causing your butt to rub against Jinu's front.

Wait.

He was... hard...?

A wave of fear washed over you as you stilled your hand. No, no. He must be having a wet dream or something. Yeah, he can't be awake hearing you. No. No way. You needed to reach your damned orgasm and just go to sleep. You'd deal with the shame in the morning. You finally decided to pull down your pajama pants to grasp your cock and not just rub it anymore.

You pumped your cock, making sure to still your body so you don't accidentally rub your bare ass against Jinu's clothed crotch. He'd hate that. No, he'd hate to learn what you're doing. Fuck. The shame was already affecting you. Stray tears fell down your cheeks as you bit down at your pillow, still chasing your orgasm despite the shame filling your lungs.

Embarrassment. This was so fucking embarrassing.

It was close-- your orgasm. Inches away, dancing on the tip of your fingers as your moans began to reach a crescendo. So much for muffling yourself. Your edge to your orgasm was wrecking you—sending you to a mental space you couldn't imagine in any other circumstance.

Was this how sex with someone you liked felt?

Could Jinu make you feel this way?

Was... him being here making you this way?

It wasn't enough. You wanted more. Your legs shifted as you subtly pulled your pants down, kicking them off without a care. You didn't have any lube but you had no time. The tease of ecstasy was whispering your name—calling you to go further. So you did. You suckled two of your fingers, getting them as wet as possible before slipping down between your legs.

The two seconds of pain as you pushed them inside did not deter you. You could deal with a little pain. It was rough. Your fingers rubbed against your inner walls, searching for those bundle of nerves to drive you wild. But it was difficult in this position. You usually masturbated on your back or while sitting up.

You wondered if you should go as far as to shift positions. That'd be too much, right?

The shame was finally catching up to you. You couldn't do this. This disgusting and degrading action towards both you and Jinu. Your eyes closed as you sighed, eyes fluttering shut. It was too much.

"You're done already, (Name)-Ah?"

A chill crept up your spine as those three words were whispered right into your ear. Your eyes widen but you couldn't move. It was as if his words just took out any sort of life within you. His arms around your waist tightens as you feel him nuzzle himself further on your neck.

Your breathing feels erratic. You can't breathe. It feels as if you'd die right here, right now.

You looked down to see his hands. They looked recently bruised from his usual boxing. But now they felt different. As if it was a show at just how durable his body was. His arms slowly began to tighten around you only to you let out a sharp cry at the pain, earning a pleased grunt.

"You're awake, yeah? Are you ignoring hyung?" He whispered, his lips trailed your neck, stopping right at the tip of your air. "You can masturbate right beside me but can't even answer me?"

A pathetic whine left your throat as you tried to wiggle from his grip but it proved to be futile. You gasped, arching your back as you felt Jinu rub his crotch right against your butt. He began to hump you ignoring your shocked gasp.

Was he...?

"So selfish, bunny. Chasing your own release. Not even thinking about what your moans were doing to me." His right hand trailed down and pushed you to lay on your front, his body following to lay on top.

You cried out, gripping the bedsheets like a life line. "You.. were awake...?"

"I never went to sleep." He said honestly, spanking you right on your ass. You squeaked, back arching to get away from another spank. "I never knew you would do something like this. I was beginning to think you hated me."

"I never—”

"—but you never listen to me, do you? I tell you everyday to call me hyung but you never let it stick. What, do I have to force you to say it?"

"We aren't close!" You whined, whimpering at another spank. Your lower hips wiggled but you didn't make any effort to truly push Jinu off of you. You didn't understand yourself sometimes.

"What? But you call Lee Minjae hyung without any problem." Jinu grunted, his hand reaching over to grab something from the slim nightstand next to the bed. You couldn't tell what he grabbed until something cool and slimy was drizzled onto your ass. A whine left you from the coldness. "What'd he do? Fuck you? Chase you like you so desperately want?"

"Nooo," you whined, screaming when he shoved in two fingers inside your hole. Your hands dug into the bedsheets as he thrusted his fingers in and out, a constant rhythm with no sign of stopping despite your pleas for him to slow down.

Jinu chuckled, leaning down as he used his free hand to push your hair away from your face. "You act so innocent but you want this. I'll show you that I'm the only one for you. No other man can chase you like I can."

"What... ngh!!! are you talking... about..?" You manage to ask, wishing you could silence yourself. Your neighbors will certainly be having a long talk with you and Jinu tomorrow.

"Oh, bunny. My bunny, you really are so naive." Jinu whispered, pressing a kiss on your cheek. "You don't even know what you crave. It's okay, hyung will take care of you now. You won't ever have to think again."

Your body began to spasm as you felt a finger graze that bundle you tried to reach earlier. Jinu stilled for a moment, a look of slight worry in his eyes before he noticed what had just happened. A cruel smirk pulled on his eyes formed those crescent moons you once associated with his innocence.

But it didn't bring any sort of serenity to your body.

You were flipped onto your back with ease as Jinu grabbed your thighs and pushed them forward, effectively blocking your view from him. Desperate and pained moans left your lips as he continued to finger you, fingers gunning consistently at your prostate.

A loud scream left your throat as your back arched against the bed, your cock finally releasing the weeks long pent up lust you've stored for awhile now. Your stomach slowly rose and fall, coated in your sticky cum. All you could think about was your orgasm back in the classroom.

You were right.

Jinu made you cum harder than you could ever do by yourself.

You expected him to pull away but instead you felt a tug on your cock. A whine of overstimulation left your throat as you parted your legs and looked at him with wide doe eyes, confusion written all over your face.

A cruel smirk pulled on his lips as he tilted his head. "I've wanted you since I first saw you. You really think I'll let our first time be so lackluster?"

Lackluster?

He thought that was lackluster?

A pained cry left your lips as he began to thrust his fingers inside once more, leaving no sympathy as he immediately went for your prostate. You were going to die. You were going to die being fingered by your roommate. Kim Jinu was going to be the death of you.

It didn't take long for you to cum again and again, your fifth orgasm not even releasing anything. Your body twitched as your eyes watered, tears streaming down your face from the constant overstimulation. You weakly pulled your legs away from Jinu's grip after your fifth orgasm, muttering something about dying from his touch.

Jinu chuckled, allowing you to pull away. "Ah, Jagi," he whispered, causing you to blush at the title. To use such a term for you... You shamelessly felt your spent cock twitch. No, no, no! You absolutely couldn't do anymore. "You're so cute. I wanted to wait but I can't. You'll forgive me, right?"

You watched with wide eyes as he grabbed your waist and pulled you down towards him, earning a shriek from you. Your legs moved up to hide your aching and loosened hole but he was quick, spreading them wide. His eyes were like a predator, watching your every move as you tried pulling down your shirt to cover your weeping cock.

"Seon—Hyung... No more... No more, please." You whispered, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

Jinu's gaze narrowed in on your face. You could see him think. Your body was aching and praying Jinu did what you asked. But your heart....

Your heart wanted him to take you without a second thought.

"Hm. No." Jinu laughed cruelly, flipping you to rest on your knees. You cried out at the sudden movement but could only whimper as he pushed your back down, lifting up your hips. Your face pushed into the bed while your thoughts rushed at the position. It felt so humaliting to have sex without looking him the eye. You felt like an object. A prize he just won.

Your dick twitched.

So much for self respect.

"Hyung's gonna take good care of you." Jinu whispered, spreading your ass apart as he rubbed his cock between the cheeks. "You'll be good for hyung, mhm? No more seonbae."

You only whined, wiggling your hips, your ass rubbing Jinu's cock.

Jinu teasingly slapped your ass. "You complain about it being too much... But look at you now, begging for my cock. I should just stop listening to what you say and take what I want. Would you stop me, (Name)-Ah? Would you run away?"

Run away?

Run away from the man you've had wet dreams about since you came to this damn university?

"Mhm. I'll run..." You whispered, a strangled moan leaving you as he began to push his cock inside of you. The stretch was difficult and you briefly wondered if this was how you'd die.

Heart attack from a thick cock.

Despite your answer, Jinu hummed. "Good. I'll chase you until you're beneath me, shaking in fear as I take you." His hands gripped your waist as he slammed the rest of his cock inside, earning a gargled cry and scream from you.

Jinu was anything but sweet. Fucking you like a beast as you withered and cried from the constant pressure against your prostate. After this, you weren't sure you'd have sex again. This could be enough for a life time.

"Sorry, (Name)-Ah. I can't last long." Jinu suddenly grunted, pulling out. You whined at the lost but didn't have to mourn it for long as he pulled you onto his lap, making you face him. Your arms subconsiously wrapped around his neck as he easily slid back into your tight heat, gripping your thighs as he bounced you on his cock.

Jinu smirked, his eyes trained right on you. "You look so pretty when you cry." He said, pressing soft kisses on your neck. "Next time, you'll be crying from just my cock. I'll make you scream my name."

You whimpered, arching your back as you pulled him closer, another dry orgasm creeping on you. You'd be sleeping well for nights to come. Jinu grunted as he began to thrust upwards into you in tandem with bouncing you up and down, causing you to cry at the sudden pressure. You were close. So close.

A sharp feeling in your shoulder caused you to spasm as Jinu's thrusts became desperate. It took you a moment to even think about what just happened--so focused on Jinu's cock stretching you out. Until you noticed red dripping down your right shoulder.

He bit you.

The delayed reaction to the bite made you scream out, tears streaming down your face you reached your six orgasm of the night. You went limp in his arms, just letting him chase his own orgasm. Teeth sharp enough to break skin wasn't something you ever imagined Jinu could do. But there it was, a rare and sore bite on your right shoulder. Blood slowly trickling down to your chest.

Jinu finally reached his orgasm after a minute or so, holding you close as he cummed deep inside. You shuddered, feeling his cum coat your sore tight heat. He didn't wear a condom. If you weren't fucked dumb you would've yelled at him about it but all you could do was hum as he pressed soft kisses against your wet and sweaty skin.

You glanced down and noticed blood coating the bottom of Jinu's lip as he pulled away from you.

He did end up coating you in red and white.

But your blood was the lipstick. You couldn't help but laugh at your cringy thought, groaning as Jinu pulled his cock out.

"You did so good, (Name)-Ah." Jinu whispered, kissing you on the lips. You tried to return the kiss but could only purse your lips against his.

Your breathing was harsh and quick, your body battered from Jinu's claiming.

This wasn't normal. Wasn't conventional at all. You were sure that if you told Yoona and Taeil about this they'd be worried for your safety.

You were prey to Jinu

But you were okay with that.

❝ 숨을 쉴 수 없게 아프면서 황홀하잖아 ❞

"You're going to roommate with a first year? Wow, good luck!"

"I didn't know they could do that."

"No one would willingly room with a first year. They're the worst."

"Aw, c'mon, Oppa! They're usually just nervous."

"Well, our Kim Jinu will have no problem. Who doesn't love him?"

"Ah, true. Good luck, Jinu!"

Kim Jinu pulled out his keys, unlocking the door to his new home for the rest of the school year. He'd be the one to get unlucky for his previously planned roommate to drop out of school—leaving his room open for a late transfer freshman. He didn't want to deal with first years, they were annoying.

He opened the door, shocked to see the room already having someone by one of the beds. The first year was knelt beside the bed, looking through the suitcase that was filled to the brim with clothes. Clothing that looked more feminine than anything but Jinu didn't judge.

He forced his usual carefree smile, ready to greet his new roommate when you finally turned around. His breathing stopped—his smile dropping at the sight of you. You... You were different from anything he imagined.

Your look of innocence. Your body suddenly becoming fidegty the longer he stared at you without saying a word. Your sweater drooping on your shoulder, showing off your bare shoulder. Your skin looked so soft, so plain. It needed something on it.

It looked too bare.

"I'm... Kim Jinu. Who are you?"

"Park (Name)." You whispered, your eyes flickering up and down his body.

Love at first sight wasn't real to Jinu. He wouldn't lie and say he felt love towards you when he first saw you.

He felt lust.

An urge to completely ruin you.

And by the look in your eyes, the not so subtle glances at his lower half of his body. You looked to be such an easy catch.

"Stop looking at me like that." You suddenly said, your lips turning into a slight snarl but it hardly held any weight. Jinu couldn't help but tilt his head. He could tell you wanted him but you were holding back?

Actively pushing him away as if you didn't look at him with the same lust he felt. Running away?

Like a game of cat and mouse.

No...

Fox and Bunny.

He was going to devour you.

Even if he had to chase you.

❝ 네게 빠진 순간 더는 결백하지 않은 나 ❞

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

WOW!!! Gosh, this was way longer than it needed to be. I wanted to try something new lmao. Doubt i'd do it again, i was listening to kpop while writing this so it kinda just happened. Translations at the bottom! Yes, i did it for a reason, made it more fun if you didn't know what he was saying. Red is lyrics, pink are jinu’s words

I might make him an oc, i put too much effort into him for it to be a one time thing, smh... primal play is so fun.

tag list: @iwishtobeacrow @flurrina @chill-guy-but-cooler @mello-life25 @the-ultimate-librarian @kiiyoooo @ofclyde @love-kha1 @star-3214 @mooncarvers-world @smellwell @tehyunnie @remdayz @rhetorical-conscience @tomoeroi

Translations:

❝ 벗어날 수 없는 걸 ❞ — I can’t escape

❝ 온통 너로 물들여질 테니… ❞ — everything will be colored with you

❝ 날 놀리는 거야, 예쁜 자기야. ❞ — you’re teasing me, pretty baby

❝ 무방비 토끼. 내가 너를 먹어치울게 ❞ — defenseless bunny. I’ll eat you up

❝ 도망기면 쫓이갈거야, 토끼야… ❞ — if you run away, I’ll chase you , bunny

❝ 타오른 이 감정은… ❞ — this burning feeling

❝ 지금 너를 미치도록 ❞ — i'm driving you crazy right now

❝ 숨을 쉴 수 없게 아프면서 황홀하잖아 ❞ — it hurts so much that i can't breathe, but it's ecstatic

❝ 네게 빠진 순간 더는 결백하지 않은 나 ❞ — the moment i fell for you, i was no longer innocent

Songs used: Insanity - The Boyz & Criminal - Taemin

#bottom male reader #x male reader #sub male reader #uke male reader #male reader #mlm ns/fw #male bottom reader #oc x male reader #oc x reader #smut drabble #x male smut #original character #mlm nsft

3K notes · View notes

leaderwonim · 12 days ago

Text

THE WORLD NEVER ENDED | JACK HUGHES

pairing. jack hughes x fem!reader (ft. platonic quinn & luke hughes x fem!reader + male!oc x fem!reader)

genre. childhood best friends to lovers, ANGST, fluff, hurt to comfort, reader & jack are both 18-19 in this!

synopsis: Y/N and Jack Hughes have been inseparable since childhood, spending every summer at his family’s lake house—until his hockey career takes off and leaves her behind. As Jack’s life moves forward and Y/N tries to do the same, the distance between them grows in ways neither of them expected. But when their paths cross again at a breaking point, they’re forced to confront everything they never said and the feelings that never really went away.

The lake house never changes. It still smells like pine and sunscreen, the same old dock creaking under your feet, the same late summer breeze curling through the trees. But this time, you’re the only one here.

You let the beer bottle dangle from your fingers, the glass sweating against your palm as you stare at the still water. It’s late. Too late to be out here alone, and your mom would probably kill you if she found out you were underage drinking, but you’ve been doing this since you were kids—sneaking down to the dock past midnight, toes dipping into the water, whispering about everything and nothing at all.

Except this time, Jack isn’t here. Not really. Not anymore.

The last time you saw him was months ago, after another whirlwind season, after Team USA, after everything. He’d come back, same easy smile, same stupidly messy hair, same Jack. And yet, he wasn’t.

He moved too fast, talked too much about things you weren’t a part of, laughed at jokes from teammates you didn’t know. He had an entire life outside of this town, this lake, this dock. A life that didn’t include you.

It wasn’t his fault though, you couldn’t blame Jack for being excited about this whole new chapter in his life, not when he’s worked his ass off so he could secure a spot in the NHL in the future.

You took a shaky breath, watching as the wind blew the waters back and forth, your thought raced with Jack, Jack, Jack. It wasn’t anything new; you had been in love with him since you had learned what the word love even was, when Ellen and your mom teased you two endlessly after your eighth birthday, declaring that you’d two get married when you were older.

And then he left, at age fourteen to go train at some hockey camp over the summer and you started seeing him less and less. Then he left again for USA Hockey, and all that was left of him was the little times he’d pop up on your screen for a FaceTime, or a quick selfie.

You never told him that it felt like the world had ended whenever he left.

❥

The first time you met Jack Hughes, he was seven years old, standing knee-deep in the lake, grinning like he had owned the world.

“You scared to jump in?” he teases, squinting up at you from where he’s splashing around.

You cross your arms, standing barefoot on the dock, the sun burning hot against your skin. “I just don’t wanna get my hair wet.”

Jack laughs like you just said the funniest thing in the world, and before you can react, he launches a handful of water in your direction. It splashes against your legs, cool and shocking, and you gasp.

“You jerk!” you shriek, but Jack’s already laughing, already diving into the water, swimming just far enough out of reach that you can’t get him back.

You don’t know it then, but that’s how it starts.

The Hughes family’s lake house becomes your second home. Your parents are close friends with Ellen and Jim, and summers are spent tangled in sunburns, mosquito bites, and the smell of bonfires. Jack, being just a few months older, quickly becomes your shadow—or maybe you become his.

You race bikes down dirt paths, climb trees until your hands are covered in splinters, and stay up late whispering under blanket forts in the Hughes’ living room, trying not to wake Luke and Quinn.

“You think we’ll still be best friends when we’re older?” you ask one night, voice sleepy, cheek smushed against your arm.

Jack frowns at you, like you just said something ridiculous. “Duh. Who else am I supposed to hang out with? My brothers?”

You grin brightly, shoving him. “You promise?”

He holds out his pinky. “Promise.”

And that’s that.

As you both get older, things don’t really change. Not at first.

Winters are spent at the Hughes’ house in Michigan, watching Jack skate for hours at the rink, your fingers numb from gripping a hot chocolate too tight. Summers are still for the lake house, where the days blur together in a haze of sun, water, and laughter.

Jack is your best friend. The one who sneaks you extra s’mores when the adults say no. The one who ties your skates when your fingers are too cold. The one who always picks you first for street hockey, even when Luke complains about it. The one who knows everything about you.

And you know everything about him, too.

That he gets grumpy when he’s hungry. That he has to listen to music before every game, or else he feels off. That he’s already dreaming about the NHL, about Team USA, about everything that seems so far away but somehow already feels like it’s coming too fast.

You don’t realize when things do start changing.

Maybe it’s when Jack turns fourteen and starts spending more time away at tournaments. Maybe it’s when you turn fourteen and realize your heart speeds up whenever he looks at you a certain way.

Maybe it’s the summer you turn fifteen and see him talking to a girl from town, and something ugly coils in your stomach. You don’t say anything, though. You can’t.

Jack is your best friend. That’s all. Even if you wish it wasn’t.

When Jack is sixteen, everything does change.

It’s the Fourth of July. The lake house is packed, fireworks already popping in the distance. You and Jack sneak away from the party like you always do, climbing onto the dock and lying side by side, watching the sky.

“You excited for the USA team?” you ask, your voice light, like the thought of him leaving doesn’t make your chest ache.

Jack turns his head to look at you. “Yeah,” he says. “Kinda nervous, though.”

You smile a little, the same smile that had reassured Jack every time he saw it. “You’ll be fine.”

He shifts closer, his arm brushing yours. “You think so?”

“Of course,” you whisper. “You’re Jack Hughes.”

He laughs, but it’s softer this time, almost hesitant. The air between you feels different, thicker, heavier. His fingers twitch on the dock beside yours, and for a second, you swear he’s about to reach for your hand.

But then he exhales sharply, sits up. “We should get back.”

And just like that, the moment is gone.

You stare at the fireworks exploding in the sky, feeling like something inside you is breaking.

Jack leaves for Team USA at the end of the summer.

And you don’t know it yet, but nothing will ever be the same again.

❥

At first, you still talk all the time. He calls after practices, FaceTimes you from hotel rooms, sends you stupid selfies from road trips. And for a while, it almost feels normal. Almost.

But then the calls get shorter. The messages come slower.

You see his name on headlines, hear people at school talking about him like he’s some distant star instead of the boy you grew up with. And suddenly, he feels… far away.

Not just in distance. In everything.

And then one day, you realize you don’t remember the last time he called.

You don’t text him, either. You figured he was too busy anyways—too busy with hockey, with interviews, too busy for you.

His absence leaves a hollow space inside you, one you don’t know how to fill. So you try.

That’s how you end up with him.

Aiden West. Star quarterback. Tall, broad-shouldered, with an easy smile and dimples that should make your heart flutter.

You meet at a party—one you only went to because your friends dragged you out of your house, tired of you spending your nights holed up in your room, pretending you weren’t waiting for a text that never came.

Aidan’s nice. He’s funny. He buys you drinks and calls you baby and kisses you like he means it.

You tell yourself this is good. That this is what you need.

But when he holds your hand, it doesn’t feel the same. When he kisses you, you don’t melt the way you think you should. And when you close your eyes, it’s not Aidan you see.

It’s Jack. Always Jack.

Quinn comes home in December.

You’re not expecting to see him, not really. Ever since he was drafted, he spent all his time in Vancouver, busy with his own life, his own team. But one night, you walk into the Hughes’ house, and there he is, sprawled on the couch like he never left.

“Quinn?” you blink.

He smirks, sitting up. “Hey, kid.”

You roll your eyes but smile anyway. “You’re, like, a few years older than me. I’m not a kid.”

“You’ll always be a kid to me,” he teases, but then his expression softens. “How’ve you been?”

You shrug. “Good.”

He gives you a look, like he can see right through you. Because of course he can.

Quinn has always been quieter than Jack, more observant. He was the one who bandaged your scraped knees when you and Jack were too reckless, the one who ruffled your hair when you had a bad day, the one who watched you grow up and somehow always knew what you were feeling before you even said it.

And right now, you can tell he knows you’re lying.

“You still talk to Jack?” he asks casually.

You stiffen. “Not really.”

Quinn nods, like that’s what he expected. “He’s been busy.”

“I know,” you say quickly, too quickly. “It’s fine.”

He studies you for a moment. Then, his eyebrows furrow. “You dating that football guy?”

You hesitate. “Yeah. Kinda.”

Quinn tilts his head, his expression unreadable. “You like him?”

You swallow. “He’s… nice.”

Quinn leans back, crossing his arms. “You know, I’ve seen you happy before.”

You furrow your brows. “And?”

“And that’s not what you look like right now.”

The words hit deeper than you want them to. You look away, staring at your hands.

Quinn sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m not trying to tell you what to do. If you like the guy, great. But don’t force something that isn’t real just because—” He pauses.

You glance up. “Just because what?”

Quinn meets your eyes, and for the first time, his voice is gentle. “Just because Jack hurt you.”

Your throat tightens.

You don’t say anything. You don’t know what to say.

Because he’s right. And maybe that’s the worst part of all.

❥

Aidan is kind when he breaks up with you.

That almost makes it worse.

You can tell he’s been thinking about it for a while. The way he exhales before he starts speaking, the way his hands stay tucked into the pocket of his hoodie like he’s afraid if he moves too much, you’ll see how much this is bothering him.

“You’re not really here, Y/N,” he says, voice steady but laced with something bitter, something tired.

You don’t argue, because you know he’s right.

He sighs, shaking his head. “I like you. I really do. But I deserve someone who looks at me like I’m the only one they’re thinking about.”

Your stomach twists.

“Aidan—”

“It’s fine,” he cuts in, forcing a small smile. “I knew. I think I always did.” He swallows, glancing away before meeting your eyes again. “It was never gonna be me, was it?”

You want to tell him you tried. That you wanted to feel something more, something real. But the truth is, no matter how hard you tried, he was never Jack.

And that was never fair to him.

So instead, you whisper, “I’m sorry.”

He nods, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. “Yeah. Me too.”

A few days pass, and you still feel hollow, like you’re floating through life without really being in it.

You don’t know why you still go to the Hughes’ house. Maybe it’s habit. Maybe it’s because it still feels like home, even when things don’t feel the same anymore.

Maybe it’s because, deep down, you just need someone who knows you.

Luke opens the door, and before you can even say anything, his face twists in concern.

“Okay, what’s wrong?”

You pause. “What?”

Luke steps aside to let you in, closing the door behind you. “You have your sad face on.”

You frown. “Luke Hughes, I do not have a—”

“You totally do,” he interrupts, flopping onto the couch. He gestures for you to sit next to him, and after a moment, you do.

There’s a beat of silence before he says, “Quinn told me everything.”

You freeze. “Everything?”

Luke gives you a knowing look. “Yeah. And I’m not an idiot, Y/N. I’ve seen the way you’ve looked at Jack since we were kids.”

You open your mouth, but no words come out.

Luke sighs, leaning back against the couch. “Look, I know he messed up. Jack is kind of known for that. And I know you’re hurt. But…” He hesitates. “You still love him, don’t you?”

You squeeze your eyes shut. “Luke—”

“Just be honest,” he says gently.

Your throat tightens. “Yeah,” you whisper. “I do.”

Luke nods like he already knew that was coming. Then he pulls something out of his pocket and holds it out to you.

You frown. “What’s this?”

“Tickets,” he says simply.

You blink. “Tickets?”

“To Jack’s game against Finland.” His voice is casual, but there’s something behind it—something careful, like he knows he’s walking a fine line. “I was gonna go, but I think you should instead.”

Your heart stops.

“Luke…”

“Don’t overthink it,” he says quickly. “Just go. See him. Talk to him.”

You stare at the tickets in his hand, your pulse pounding in your ears.

This is a choice. A chance.

And to be completely honest, you aren’t sure if you’re ready.

❥

You end up deciding not to go until the last minute.

The plane ticket burns in your hands, Luke’s voice echoing in your head: Just go. See him. Talk to him.

So you do. You land in Finland, stomach in knots, trying not to think about what you’ll even say to him. If he’ll even want to see you.

But then the game happens. And Jack loses.

The scoreboard tells you everything—3-2, Finland. A brutal, heartbreaking end.

Jack stays on the ice, shoulders hunched, wiping his face as the Finnish players celebrate around him. You can see the way he’s blinking rapidly, how hard he’s trying to hold it together.

It doesn’t work.

By the time he’s in the tunnel for postgame interviews, it’s like the weight of everything finally crashes over him. The cameras capture everything; his red-rimmed eyes, the way his lips tremble when he speaks, the way his voice wavers when he says, “I feel like I let everyone down.”

Your heart cracks wide open. You don’t think. You just go.

You push through the lingering crowd, through the halls of the arena, heart racing. And then—there he is.

Jack is leaning against the wall, head bowed, gripping a water bottle so tightly his knuckles are white. His shoulders shake slightly, like he’s trying to get a grip, but he’s losing the battle.

You inhale sharply, willing yourself forward.

“Jack.”

His head snaps up, eyes widening. And for a second, he just stares.

Like he doesn’t believe you’re real.

“Y/N?” His voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper.

You nod, stepping closer. But before you can say anything else, Jack clears his throat and quickly swipes at his face, straightening up like he’s trying to compose himself.

Then he blurts out, “How’s Aidan?”

You freeze.

Jack lets out a broken laugh, looking down. “Quinn told me you had a boyfriend,” he mutters, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I—uh, I’m happy for you. You deserve that.”

You swallow hard, your chest tightening. “Jack—”

“I mean it,” he interrupts, still not looking at you. “I always wanted you to be happy.”

He sniffles, pressing his thumb and forefinger against his eyes. He looks exhausted. Worn down in a way you’ve never seen before.

And suddenly, it’s too much.

The space between you. The months of silence. The fact that he still doesn’t know the truth.

You move before you can stop yourself, closing the gap and wrapping your arms around him.

Jack stiffens, sucking in a sharp breath.

But then—slowly, so slowly—it’s like something inside him gives in.

His hands grip your back, his face pressing into your shoulder, and he melts.

You feel his shaky exhale against your neck. The way his fingers curl into the jersey you’re wearing with his name on the back, like he’s afraid if he lets go, you’ll disappear.

And for the first time in a long time, you feel whole again.

“I don’t—” Jack’s voice cracks. “I don’t know how to fix this.”

Your throat tightens. “Then don’t. Just just let me be here.”

Jack exhales shakily, nodding against you. “Okay.”

Despite your reassurance, he still feels like he’s falling.

The weight of the loss, the pressure, the expectations, it’s all crashing over him, relentless and suffocating. But in the middle of it all, there’s you.

And when you pull back slightly, just enough to look at him, he realizes you’re the only thing keeping him grounded.

Your hands stay on his face, thumbs brushing against his damp skin, and there’s something in your expression, something soft and certain that makes his chest ache.

Then you move closer, tilting your head, and suddenly, suddenly—your lips press against his.

Jack stills.

Then, all at once, he melts into you.

His hands slide to your waist, gripping onto you like you’re the only thing keeping him standing. Your lips are soft, warm, familiar, but new at the same time, like something that was always supposed to happen but never did.

It feels like breathing again. Like finally getting it right.

But then, Jack realizes and he blinks, something clicking in his mind as he pulls back abruptly, still holding onto you but panting slightly.

“Wait,” he says, voice hoarse. “Aidan.”

You shake your head quickly. “We broke up.”

His brows furrow. “What?”

You exhale, your hands sliding from his face to his wrists, squeezing lightly. “Jack, I tried to move on. I tried so hard.” Your voice wavers. “But it was never him. It was always you.”

Jack’s lips part slightly, his breath hitching.

Then, suddenly, he laughs—a broken, disbelieving sound before his face crumples, his eyes shining again.

And just like that, he’s crying.

He presses his forehead against yours, squeezing his eyes shut as his grip on your waist tightens.

“You have no idea how bad I wanted you to say that,” he whispers, his voice shaking.

You smile softly, brushing his hair back. “I think I do.”

Jack lets out a shaky exhale, his hands fisting the fabric of your jersey, like he’s terrified you’ll disappear if he lets go. But you don’t.

Because after everything—after the distance, the silence, the missed chances—you’re still here.

He sniffles, pulling you into another tight hug, burying his face in your shoulder.

❥

Later, when the chaos dies down and the arena empties, you end up in Jack’s car.

The heater hums softly, filling the silence, the city lights casting faint shadows across the dashboard.

Jack sits in the driver’s seat, head tilted against the headrest, his eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. You’re next to him, legs curled up on the seat, leaning against his shoulder.

It’s quiet.

Not awkward. Not heavy. Just comfortable.

Jack sighs, nudging his cheek against your hair. “I still can’t believe you’re here.”

You smile faintly, reaching for his hand. “Me neither.”

He squeezes your fingers, his grip warm and sure. “I thought I lost you.”

You shake your head, squeezing back. “You never did.”

Jack exhales, his body relaxing against yours, and for the first time in a long time, hfeels whole again.

❥

The lake house feels the same the next summer.

The scent of pine and sunscreen still lingers in the air, the dock still creaks under your feet, and the water still glistens under the late afternoon sun. But this time, Jack is here. And this time, he’s yours.

He had turned freshly nineteen last month, but still was the same annoying boy you had known since you were seven.

You sit on the old wooden dock, legs stretched out, the warm breeze tangling your hair. Jack is lying beside you, one arm draped lazily over his forehead, his other hand resting on your knee, tracing absentminded patterns over your skin.

It’s quiet, just the sound of the water lapping against the shore and the occasional laughter from inside the house, where Quinn and Luke are probably chirping each other over something stupid.

Jack sighs, turning his head to look at you. “I missed this.”

You smile, threading your fingers through his. “Me too.”

He studies you for a moment, his eyes soft, warm, completely yours. Then, without a word, he tugs you down so you’re lying next to him, your head resting on his chest.

“You know,” he muses, fingers trailing up and down your back, “last summer, I thought I’d never get this back.”

You inhale slowly, letting his heartbeat ground you. “Me too.”

Jack tilts his head, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “But we made it.”

You lift your head, meeting his gaze. “Yeah,” you whisper, smiling. “We did.”

He grins, the kind that makes your heart skip a beat, then flips you onto your back, hovering over you with that look—the one that reminds you he’s still the same Jack, the same boy who used to splash you in the lake, who used to steal your s’mores when you weren’t looking, who used to be your best friend before he was everything.

“Hey, lovebirds!” Luke’s voice echoes from the house, and you both groan.

Jack turns his head, scowling. “Luke, I swear—”

Quinn’s voice cuts in. “Let them be, Luke. They suffered enough.”

You laugh as Jack rolls his eyes. “I hate that he’s right.”

You shake your head, pulling Jack back down. “Just kiss me already.”

He smirks. “Gladly.”

And as his lips meet yours, the sun dips below the horizon and the lake glistens around you, making you realize everything is exactly the way it’s meant to be.

It isn’t until Luke pretends to fake barf that Jack removes himself away from you, opting to chase down his little brother.

“Boys, am I right?” Quinn says, giving you a grin.

You wrap your arms around him, never feeling as whole as you did now.

659 notes · View notes

mnightseoul · 3 days ago

Text

Bride to be's Midnight party ( Chaewon x Male OCs )

tags: gangbang, cheating, blowjob, dirty talk

The day had finally arrived, the air thick with anticipation as Chaewon prepared for the last hurrah before she embarked on her new journey as a wife. Her closest friends, a mix of childhood companions and college confidants, had conspired to give her a bachelorette party she would never forget. They had scoured the city for the perfect venue, finally settling on a swanky male strip club known as "The Den of Desire." The name alone was enough to make Chaewon blush a shade of crimson, but her bridesmaids had insisted that this was the ultimate way to bid farewell to her single life.

As the evening grew closer, the excitement in the bridal party was palpable. They gathered at Chaewon's apartment, the living room transformed into a glamorous dressing room. The room was filled with giggles and shrieks as each woman donned her carefully chosen outfit, all designed to make a statement. From short, sequined dresses to tight, body-hugging numbers, they were dressed to kill. Chaewon, ever the humble bride, had settled on a simple yet elegant black dress, her eyes sparkling with excitement behind her wire-framed glasses.

The bridesmaids had gone all out, organizing a stretch limousine to whisk them away to the club. As the sleek black car pulled up to the curb, the group of seven piled in, champagne bottles popping as they settled into the plush leather seats. The interior lights flickered with a rainbow of colors, setting the mood for a wild night of fun and debauchery. Chaewon felt a mix of nerves and exhilaration as she took her designated spot, the one with the giant "Bride-to-Be" sash draped across the back.

Upon their arrival, the velvet ropes parted, and the bouncers gave them a knowing wink as they stepped into the dimly lit club. The thump of bass reverberated through the walls, and the scent of expensive cologne mixed with the sweet aroma of perfume. The Den of Desire was already bustling with groups of women eager to let loose. The bridesmaids led Chaewon to a VIP section they had reserved, adorned with a banner that read "Chaewon's Last Hoorah!" in glittering letters. The stage, surrounded by a sea of eager faces, gleamed under the strobe lights, hinting at the scandalous performances to come.

The first act strutted onto the stage, and the room erupted in cheers. Chaewon couldn't help but feel a twinge of curiosity as the oiled-up Adonises began to dance. Her friends leaned in close, whispering salacious comments and encouraging her to embrace the moment. Despite her initial reservations, she found herself drawn into the electrifying atmosphere, sipping her cocktail and tapping her foot to the beat.

The night grew wilder as the performances became more daring. The bridesmaids, fueled by liquid courage, began to interact with the dancers, pulling them closer to their table and slipping bills into their waistbands. Chaewon watched with a mix of amusement and astonishment, feeling both out of place and strangely liberated.

As the drinks kept flowing, the conversation grew louder, and the laughter more uninhibited. Chaewon's cheeks were flushed, not just from the heat of the club, but from the thrill of the experience. She had never been to a place like this, and the thrill of the forbidden was intoxicating. The alcohol loosened her inhibitions, and she found herself joining in the fun, cheering on her friends and even participating in a few dances with the performers.

The evening progressed, and the entertainment grew more interactive. One particularly charismatic dancer, named Leo, took a special interest in the bashful bride-to-be. He wove through the crowd, his eyes locked on Chaewon, a playful smirk dancing across his lips. When he finally reached their table, he whispered something in her ear, and she couldn't help but giggle. Her friends, noticing the connection, began to chant for her to join him on stage.

With a gentle nudge from her maid of honor, Chaewon found herself being led by the hand to the gleaming platform. The music grew louder, the lights brighter, and the crowd's anticipation palpable. Leo winked at her, his confidence infectious, and suddenly, she didn't feel so nervous. He began to dance around her, their movements playful and flirty, the energy between them electric. As the routine went on, Chaewon allowed herself to get lost in the moment, feeling a sense of freedom she hadn't felt in years.

The crowd was going wild, and her friends were absolutely loving the show. One of her more adventurous friends, Yuna, took it upon herself to make the experience even more memorable. She leaned over and whispered something to Leo, a mischievous glint in her eye. Chaewon had a feeling she knew what was coming. Sure enough, Yuna delicately placed a fine amount of salt between Chaewon's cleavage, her hands shaking slightly with excitement. The dancer took a step back, a shot of tequila in hand, his gaze locked on the line of salt. Chaewon felt a rush of adrenaline as he approached, his chiseled abs glistening with sweat.

The room went silent as Leo bent down, his mouth hovering just above the salt. Chaewon's heart raced as he took the shot, his eyes never leaving hers. The crowd erupted in applause and cheers as he licked the salt from her skin with a dramatic flourish. It was a moment of pure exhilaration, a taste of the wild side that she never knew she craved. Her friends were in hysterics, high-fiving each other and shouting their approval. Chaewon couldn't help but laugh along, feeling a sense of camaraderie with her friends that she hadn't felt in a long time.

The bridesmaids, caught in the thrall of the seductive atmosphere, started pairing up with some of the dancers. Flirting turned into whispered conversations and lingering touches. One by one, the bridesmaids and their dance partners would slip away into the shadows, leaving the others to speculate about their whereabouts. Chaewon watched in amazement as her usually reserved friends transformed into bold seductresses, living out their own little fantasies.

Her friend Soo-Jin was particularly taken with a dancer named Marcus. They had hit it off instantly, their chemistry palpable even from across the room. Soo-Jin's eyes sparkled with excitement as she danced closer and closer to him, her hands tracing the lines of his muscular back. Before Chaewon knew it, the two had disappeared, leaving behind a trail of whispers and knowing smiles. She couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy.

Chaewon felt the need to escape the intense energy for a moment and decided to use the bathroom. As she pushed through the throng of bodies, she felt a light touch on her arm. Turning, she found Leo, the dancer who had shared the stage with her earlier, smiling down at her with a glint in his eye. "You okay?" he shouted over the music.

"Yeah," she yelled back, feeling a little overwhelmed. "Just need a quick breather."

Leo nodded in understanding, and to her surprise, he offered to accompany her. Chaewon hesitated, unsure if this was appropriate, but the alcohol had loosened her and she found herself agreeing. The bathroom was a blessedly cool oasis compared to the sticky heat of the club. She took a deep breath, leaning against the sink to collect herself.

"You're a natural," Leo said, his voice low and soothing. "You should do that more often."

Chaewon blushed, looking away. "Thanks, but I'm pretty sure that's a one-time thing."

Leo stepped closer, his hand on the small of her back. "You're too much fun to let go of that easily," he said, his smile turning mischievous. "How about we have some real fun?"

Her heart hammered in her chest. She knew what he was implying, and part of her was tempted. But she was engaged, and this was all just a harmless party, right?

"I don't think that's a good idea," she said, her voice shaky.

Leo leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. "Come on," he whispered, his voice a seductive purr. "Your friends are busy. They won't even notice."

Chaewon felt a flicker of doubt. Was she being too uptight? It was her bachelorette party, after all. Leo's hand slid around her waist, and he gently nudged her towards a hidden corner of the bathroom. "It's just a little harmless fun," he assured her, his eyes gleaming with a promise she wasn't quite sure she wanted to keep. She looked around the bathroom, the flashing lights from the club casting a disco glow through the small cracks in the door.

"Look, everyone does it," he continued, his voice a silky persuasion. "It's like a rite of passage. Besides," he added with a smirk, "what happens in the bathroom, stays in the bathroom."

Chaewon's resolve began to crumble. She had always been the good girl, the one who never took risks, the one who always played it safe. But tonight was supposed to be different. Tonight was about letting go. Her eyes met Leo's, and she felt the weight of his gaze, the allure of the forbidden tugging at her. For a brief moment, she considered it, the thrill of doing something she knew she shouldn't making her feel alive.

With a deep breath, she nodded, and Leo's grin grew wider. He took charge, leading her by the hand into the secluded area. The music from the club was muffled here, the only sound their racing heartbeats and the occasional laughter that floated in from the party outside. He pushed her gently against the wall, his body pressing into hers, and she felt a surge of desire that she hadn't felt in a long time.

Leo's hands began to explore, his touch confident and commanding. Chaewon's mind was a whirl of conflicting emotions: guilt, excitement, fear, and arousal. But as he kissed her, she found herself giving in, her body responding to his touch like it was starved for it. His hands slid down her body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, and she realized that she had never felt so alive, so wanted, so… dominated.

Their kiss grew more urgent, his teeth nipping at her lower lip as his hands found their way under her dress. Chaewon gasped, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts. She had never been with a man who took control like this, and she found herself surprisingly enjoying the feeling. Leo's touch was firm, his movements deliberate and calculated, each one designed to drive her closer to the edge.

As their encounter grew more intense, Chaewon couldn't help but wonder what her fiancé would think if he could see her now. Would he be jealous? Angry? Or would he understand that this was just a moment of harmless fun, a chance for her to let loose before she committed herself to a lifetime of monogamy? The thought sent a shiver down her spine, but she pushed it aside. Tonight was about her, and she was going to live in the moment.

Leo's hand cupped her chin, tilting her head back, and he whispered in her ear, his breath hot against her skin. "You're mine, aren't you?" Chaewon's heart raced as she nodded, her body aching for more. He kissed her again, his tongue demanding entry, and she opened up to him, letting him claim her in this illicit embrace. The world outside the bathroom faded away, and all that existed was the two of them, lost in the throes of passion.

Leo's hands slid up her thighs, pushing her dress up to her waist, and she felt the coolness of the bathroom air against her bare skin. His fingers found her panties, teasing the damp fabric before he ripped them away with a feral growl. Chaewon's knees weakened, but Leo held her up, his grip like steel. He positioned himself, the tip of his erection pressing against her, and without warning, he thrust into her, hard and fast. She gasped, the sudden intrusion stealing her breath, but the pleasure quickly overwhelmed any discomfort.

Her nails dug into his back as he began to move, each thrust sending shockwaves of sensation through her body. Chaewon had never been fucked like this before, never been taken so fiercely and so completely. It was as if Leo had unlocked something within her, a wild, primal instinct that she didn't know she had. She wrapped her legs around his waist, urging him deeper, her hips moving in time with his rhythm. The bathroom stall echoed with the sound of their bodies slapping together, the music from the club a distant backdrop to their illicit encounter.

Leo's eyes bore into hers, dark with desire and a hint of possession. He fucked her with a reckless abandon that was both terrifying and thrilling. Chaewon felt her orgasm building, her muscles tightening around him, and she knew she was going to come. It was going to be messy, it was going to be loud, and she didn't care. This was her moment of rebellion, her chance to be the bad girl she had always envied in romance novels and movies.

Her climax hit her like a tidal wave, and she screamed his name, her body shaking with the intensity of it. Leo's pace didn't slow, though, if anything, he grew more aggressive, his hips pistoning into her as he chased his own release. Chaewon clung to him, her head thrown back, her eyes squeezed shut as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her. And when he finally came, his groan muffled by her shoulder, she felt a strange sense of satisfaction, like she had just conquered something she never knew she needed to.

As they both came down from the high, Leo kissed her neck, his breathing still ragged. "You're amazing," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. Chaewon felt a blush creep up her neck, her heart still racing. She knew this was wrong, knew she should be feeling guilty, but all she could focus on was the feeling of Leo still inside her, the aftershocks of pleasure still coursing through her body.

With a smirk, Leo stepped back, his cock glistening with their combined arousal. He looked down at her, a challenge in his eyes. "Clean me up," he said, his voice a command. Chaewon hesitated for a moment, then with a nod, she sank to her knees. He positioned himself in front of her, his erection standing proudly. She took a deep breath and leaned in, tentatively taking him into her mouth. He tasted faintly of salt and sweat, a heady combination that she found strangely intoxicating.

With each bob of her head, she felt more and more of the good girl she had always been slipping away, replaced by this new, wanton creature. Leo's hands tangled in her hair, guiding her movements, and she took him deeper, her eyes never leaving his. The power dynamics had shifted, and she reveled in her new role, eager to please him. He groaned in approval, his hips moving in time with her mouth. Chaewon had never felt so alive, so powerful, as she had this stranger in the palm of her hand.

As she cleaned him up, Leo leaned back against the sink, his eyes never leaving hers. "You know," he said, his voice still low and seductive, "my buddies would love a taste of this." Chaewon felt a thrill run through her at the thought, and before she could even think to protest, he was already calling them over. The bathroom stall's hidden door swung open, and in came Marcus, the dancer who had been with Soo-Jin, followed by two others she recognized from the stage. They were all grinning, their eyes gleaming with lust.

Without a word, one of them took her hand, helping her to her feet, while the other two began to strip off her dress. Chaewon felt a rush of excitement as she was exposed, the cool air of the bathroom prickling her skin. She had never been with more than one person at a time, and the thought of all these men wanting her was more than she could handle. They circled her like predators, their eyes raking over her body, and she felt a strange sense of power knowing that she had them all under her spell.

Marcus stepped forward, his eyes dark with desire, and claimed her mouth in a bruising kiss. His hands roamed her body, squeezing her breasts and pinching her nipples until she moaned into his mouth. Meanwhile, the other two began to kiss and lick their way down her body, one of them dropping to his knees and burying his face between her legs. The sensation was almost too much to bear, and she had to grip the sink to keep from falling over.

The men worked together like a well-oiled machine, each one taking turns pleasuring her. They whispered filthy things in her ear, their breath hot against her skin, and she found herself responding, encouraging them with soft moans and gasps. Chaewon had never felt so desired, so alive, as she did in that moment. The guilt that had briefly gripped her earlier was gone, replaced by a fierce hunger that she didn't recognize but couldn't ignore.

"You like that?" Marcus whispered, his teeth grazing her earlobe. "You like being a dirty little bride?"

"Yes," she whimpered, her voice barely above a breath.

"Say it," he demanded, his hand sliding down to her throbbing clit. "Say you're a slut for us."

"I'm a slut for you," she murmured, the words feeling foreign on her lips, yet so right.

The two other dancers took her breasts in their hands, each one suckling and biting her nipples until she was panting. "You want more, baby?" one of them asked, his voice thick with lust.

"Please," she begged, her body arching towards them.

They were merciless, teasing and taunting her until she was a writhing mess, desperate for release. Marcus slipped a finger inside her, pumping it in and out as he whispered sweet nothings about how tight she was, how good she felt. Chaewon could feel herself getting wetter, her body begging for more.

The dancer between her legs stood up, his own erection straining against his pants. He leaned in, his teeth grazing her neck. "You want it all, don't you?" he said, his voice a rough growl. "You want to be our little slut."

"Yes," she moaned, the word slipping out before she could even think.

They didn't wait for further invitation. One by one, they took her, each one more intense than the last. They talked dirty to her, filling her with their cocks and whispering the most depraved things. Chaewon reveled in it, her body responding to their every touch, every word. The bathroom stall had become a cocoon of debauchery, and she was the willing centerpiece.

"You're going to be our little secret, aren't you?" Leo murmured as he took his turn, slamming into her from behind.

"Yes," she gasped, her voice muffled by the hand that Marcus had clamped over her mouth. "Your little whore."

They fucked her fast and hard, their hips slapping against her ass as they took her. Chaewon felt like she was going to break apart, but she didn't care. Each thrust brought her closer to the edge, and she craved more.

"You're going to marry him, but you'll always remember us," Marcus said, his voice a promise in her ear. "You'll always remember who really made you come on your last night of freedom."

And as she climaxed, the room spinning with pleasure, she knew it was true. This was a night she would never forget, a night that would change her forever. Her wedding was just two days away, but in the arms of these strangers, she had found a piece of herself that she never knew existed. And as they each took their fill of her, she knew that she had truly embraced her last moments of freedom.

The men were insatiable, passing her around like a prized possession, each one eager to leave their mark. Chaewon felt like a goddess, worshiped by these Adonises who knew just how to make her scream. She lost track of time, lost in a haze of passion and lust, her body a vessel for their pleasure.

Her legs trembled, and she could feel her orgasm building once more, the sensation of their hands and mouths on her skin driving her wild. They were relentless, pushing her to new heights, and she couldn't get enough. As one dancer pulled out, she felt the coolness of the air for a brief second before she was filled again, the sensation of being stretched and filled bringing her to the edge.

The room grew fuzzy around the edges, and she could barely keep her eyes open, her body was so overwhelmed with sensation. They talked about her as if she weren't even there, discussing who would come next and what they would do to her. It was humiliating and exhilarating all at once, and she found herself begging for more.

The room spun, and she felt her body start to give out. But they didn't stop, not until she was a trembling mess, their cum painting her body like a lewd canvas. They zipped up their pants and whispered sweet nothings in her ear, telling her how much they had enjoyed her, how she had been the best bachelorette party they had ever had.

As they left her, panting and exhausted, she couldn't help but feel a strange sense of pride. She had done something she never thought she would, something wild and free. And as she stumbled back out into the main room of the club, her friends none the wiser, she felt like she had truly lived.

#chaewon x male oc #chaewon smut #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop imagines #kpop x male oc #le sserafim smut #izone smut

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kirexa · 1 year ago

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* Viper related reasons

(^THANKS FOR THIS @runetallem LOL)

Kiri is NOT a funky little guy in post limit :3

^not entirely accurate bcuz I forget sometimes lol

Please no donation asks.

I have nothing to donate. They will be deleted.

Notes goal post

PFP is a: Brazilian rainbow boa!

Kiri interests 🤩🤩

• Twisted Wonderland

• Your Turn To Die

• Project Sekai

• SNAKES (hyperfixation)

• Mystic Messenger

• Persona Five

• Hazbin (🏴‍☠️)

I also have @identifying-snakes-in-posts !!!!!! I'll try 2 be active there :3

DO NOT FOLLOW IF SNAKES TRIGGER YOU!!! I POST UNTAGGED SNAKES N SHIT. SORRY.

Adding this above the readmore because I love attention: PLEASE TAG ME IN ANYTHING YOU THINK I WOULD LIKE I WILL LOVE YOU FOREVER. SNAKES. 2ND YEARS. ANY TWST THING. ANY YTTD THING. ANYTHING.

^ Note that you can tag me in tag games but I don't usually get to them, sorry!

He/They/She or whatever idrc

Kirexa/Roma/whatever as long as it's clear you mean me

Autism + ADHD diagnosed but it always feels like I'm faking UHM also questioning cluster B (too scaredsies to genuinely label myself so it's gonna stay questioning 👍) + probably c-ptsd

If you want to be moots talk to me!!! I prommy I don't bite 🫶🫶

I AM A MINOR. I don't care if adults follow me, but do NOT follow me if you post only 18+ content.

I run @idia-spotted and @goop-painter-real for some reason, can't guarantee activity over there.

@kiris-snake-bs is where I'm gonna put a lot of my snake posting!!!!

I spam reblog tell me if u dont want me to do that to your posts

I dont vent often but if I do it will be tagged simply "k vent" or untagged. sorry.

Uh idk anything else to add I'll do some more later

MY TAGS BECAUSE IM A SILLY LOSER WHO WILL LOSE THEM IF I DONT ADD THEM;

I try to always tag #twst book 6 and #twst book 7!

I tag characters with only their first name!!! Except Akechi I usually tag him as Akechi and uhm Akira akiren Ren I use them all.

Basic things are (fandom abrv (if applicable)) art/memes/writing/maybe smth else I've used b4 but idr

#fav: favs, I usually try to keep fandom stuff out of this though! (I still put fandom stuff there tho..)

#abs fav: again self explanatory (with fandom stuff though)

#my favs: my posts!!! That I love!!! That made me happy to make!!! Posts I don't wanna lose <3

#<3: this one is weird uhn. It's just favs but when it's fandom related!

#fave: heartwarming/mental health favs <3

#*b: this is weird too IT JUST MEANS BASED ON MY LIKES LOL I don't like typing it out ><

#*: honestly I don't know I think I use it to keep track of posts that I add on to? Adding a comment on the reblog instead of just tags.

#kirexa (media): liveblogging tag!!! (Unless I go back and mass tag edit u won't find sao/dangan games/yttd under this,, smtimes I abbreviate smtimes I don't (twst is abbreviated but Witch's Heart isn't for example!))

#kirexas (media): to differentiate liveblogging tag from just thoughts I have abt a media ,, not always used.

#adventures of kiris 5yo sister - my sister being a menace

#kiri hits their fucking limit (real!!1!1): me when I fuckign hit my (post) limit with one post

#kiri shrieks ★: laugh out loud tag

#kirexa answers: self explanatory lolol

#kirexa hall of fame: anything funny that is even vaguely kirexa related

///

2023 tree

///

(^mostly satire. Mostly.)

Going absolutely insnae*

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dissvicious · 2 months ago

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Birthday boy - 2

Shriek belong to @wyvernslovecake 💕

#one piece oc #one piece #oc x canon #shriek the bat #shriek #oc Nina #friend oc Shriek #one piece heat #one piece killer #Killer op #massacre soldier Killer #oc x cc #chainsaw metal killer #ChainsawMetalKiller #Kid pirates #Kidd pirates

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ririkookiemonster · 6 months ago

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Breaking Point - PJM

Summary: After months of tension, your roommate Jimin catches you grinding on his hoodie in a moment of pure desperation.

Pairing: Roommate!Jimin x Roommate!reader

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Unprotected sex (DO NOTTTT) Dirty talk, degradation, mutual masturbation, name calling, grinding on hoodie, oral sex (m&f receiving), perverse (both jimin and oc are perverts with pent up frustration and lust), rough sex, slight choking, tit slapping, clit rubbing. Just porn.

Word count: 2.4K+

Writer: riri🪽

Writer’s note: ahhhh idk what was i thinking when i wrote this. this is just pure filth haha. let me know in the comments how you feel about it.

🖇️MASTERLIST🖇️

🖇️click here to be added in the taglist🖇️

“Holy shit! W-what the fuck Y/N? Is that my hoodie?” Jimin exclaimed, looking at you in your worst state possible.

Naked. Pathetic. Grinding on his hoodie. Teasing yourself.

You gasp in surprise when you see him standing on the entrance of your room, flabbergasted.

What was he even doing here? He was supposed to go out with the boys tonight. You swore you saw him leave, and that’s how you ‘borrowed’ his hoodie from his room.

“J-jimin what are you doing here!?” You shrieked, immediately covering yourself with a blanket.

God. this was so embarrassing.

“Y/N I step out of the apartment for like one minute and by the time you sneaked into my room and steal my hoodie? Jesus! you’re such a fucking pervert.” Jimin said, eyeing you from top to bottom in your vulnerable state. You bit your lower lip, trying to avoid his gaze, but you were too horny to actually come back to your senses.

“C’mon, give me my hoodie back!” He stepped closer and grabbed his hoodie from your hand, taking a look at it. You just lowered your gaze, still unsure what to say.

“Oh my god, look at that wet spot right there. You’re washing this up, Y/N.”

“Yes, I will wash it, sorry.” You said, as you tried to stand up, but you heard him interrupting you.

“No, no, dont stand. Sit down. Sit down like a dumb fucking slut.” You were kinda surprised by his little remark but then again, you were too horny to care.

He was looking at you, his eyes like a hawk. You felt a little embarrassed, but surprisingly, not uncomfortable. Jimin clicked his tongue, taking in your vulnerable form in front of him.

“Here, you wanted this right? Take it. Show me what you were doing.”

“W-what!?” You look at him in surprise, eyes narrowing at his demand.

He wanted you to show him what?!

Was he joking?

“You heard me. Show me what you were doing with my hoodie before I walked in.”

He definitely wasn’t joking.

“Jimin, I am sorry I-”

“C’mon, show me. You were so confident earlier, sneaking into my room, and stealing my hoodie, grinding on it. But now that i am here, you’re all shy?” Jimin said, his eyes scanning you from top to bottom. Even though your body was covered in the blanket, he could very well make out in what position your body was. Legs spread, fingers playing with each other, and your nipples still hard.

“I wont do it again, I promise..” You say, barely in a whisper, earning a scoff from Jimin. You both knew in what state you were in. Wet and willing.

“C’mon now, Y/N. I have to go back to my friends. You’re really losing an opportunity to play with yourself in front of me.” Jimin said, standing up to leave.

“Wait.. don’t go…” You called out, voice barely above a whisper, holding his arm, preventing him to go.

Your actions made Jimin smirk, he got what he wanted. after all, he’d always imagined you in a state like this. He was just a man. And you, he wont lie, had an amazing body. He’d find his cock stir slightly in his pants when you’d wear your favorite pink shorts in front of him. Or when you’d wear that black spaghetti of yours, that exposed a bit of your cleavage when you’re all comfortable, watching TV.

God knows how many times he had to control himself in front of you. You were his roommate. he didn’t wanted to look like a pervert to you. But today when he caught you doing not-so-pure things with his used hoodie, he knew he wasn’t the only perverted one.

He gawks at you, his eyes full of lust, licking his lower plush lip “Oh, you want me to stay?” He chuckles and runs his fingers through his dark hair. He had THAT mischievous smile on, that made you utterly crazy. Every. Single. Time.

“Go ahead, grind on that hoodie, slut.” Jimin commanded, taking some calculative steps towards you, his eyes never leaving yours. He sat on the edge of the bed, his hoodie on his hand, with a wet spot of your juices, reminding you of your perverse.

He gently tugs at the blanket that engulfed your frame, revealing your smooth body. He gazed at your perky breasts, nipples hard. your soft abdomen, your curvy hips, and your delicious wet cunt. He mouthed the words 'Oh my god' as he saw your glistening core, his cock standing in salute.

Fuck, he had always been dying to see you like this…

You gently take his hoodie back from his hands, movements slow and delicate. You bought the cloth to your wet sex, feeling the same sensation you felt minutes before. Hell, you were so horny. Maybe it was his scent, maybe it was just Jimin.

You closed your eyes when you felt the fabric rub against your clit, making you moan unconsciously. “Mhhh Fuck..”

You start to grind on his hoodie, lewd noises unconsciously leaving your mouth.

Jimin smirked, imagining his dick wrapped against your cunt instead of his hoodie. His hand went down to his shaft, undoing his pants, pulling out his hard cock. Jimin looks up at you, his eyes filled with lust, his cock throbbing in his hand as he speak. “You’re enjoying this as much as i do, aren’t you, babygirl?”

You let out another moan in response as he starts to pump himself, looking at your slutty self fucking his hoodie shamelessly. “Mhm just like that baby, fuck yourself just like that.”

He's pretty when he masturbates like that, staring directly into your eyes as he whimpers, breathy and sweet.

Each of his little moans makes you wetter, and your body continues to tremble with need. It's so unbelievably hot how he tilts his head back, exposing the V of his jaw and his Adam's apple, bobbing each time he swallows in pleasure.

You can’t control yourself any longer, especially when jimin looks so fuckable right now, pumping his huge cock right in front of your eyes. Your hands find its way to your clit, rubbing it fast, and desperately, moaning out profanities, and Jimin lose his mind.

Grabbing your hips, Jimin yanks you closer so he can switch places with you, now kneeling in front of you. His mouth water seeing your beautiful glistening pussy, screaming to be eaten out. And so he wastes no time. A wet, hot tongue against your center. You moan at the sudden feeling, your back arching as Jimin repeats the action, the tip of his soft muscle lapping at your leaking folds until he stops at your clit, circling it with an increasing pressure that has you whining at the sensation.

"Fuck, Jimin," you moan out, hands curling into fists as you try to keep your legs as open as possible.

"You’ve been wanting this, don’t you, Y/N? Dreamt about me eating your cunt out till you cum in my tongue."

You are a mess. Your lips parted, hips squirming, back arched, getting eaten out by your roommate like you’d dreamt of.

"Arrghh f-fuckk," you stammer, relishing in the feeling of his lips brushing your swollen bud, and his nose bumping into your needy bundle of nerves. "Y-yes! fucking love it!"

He parts your legs wider, allowing him to sink deeper; his nails dig into the flesh of your thighs which has you moaning, whimpering as he makes out with your cunt. You feel your walls clench around nothing inside, your high nearing, and as your legs start to quiver, your moans becoming chipped and louder, he - suddenly removes himself completely, earning a while from you.

“I wont let you cum so easily, slut. you’ve been teasing me since forever with that slutty body of yours. Now be a good girl and suck my cock.”

Jimin gets up from the bed, and stands in front of you, his cock bobs and hangs heavy in front of your face, close enough that the tip brushes your cheek and smears precum across your face while you remain seated on the bed.

He grabs one of your hands again before he brings his girth to your mouth, your lips spreading as your tongue darts out, licking away the salty pre-cum before he comes closer, aiding you.

Not needing to be told twice, you lean forward to lap at the precum dribbling from Jimin’s slit, making him groan. His body trembles slightly as you suck him into your mouth, and it feels good to know you're not the only one affected.

The rumbling around Jimin’s cock has his throat let out low groans; his head falls back as his fingers squeeze your hand once before he lets go and buries it in your hair.

"Look at you. Such a stupid little cock slut." He groaned, watching drool leak from the corners of your mouth as he thrusted into you. Every hit of his cock against the back of your throat pushed tears into your eyes, eventually causing them to spill out onto your cheeks. "Fuck," he said through gritted teeth.

He knows he’s when he feels his cock throbbing vigorously. He grabs your hair into a fist, pulling you away from his cock, a thread of saliva and his wet slick attaching your lips and cock still.

“I want to fucking cum inside you, Y/N”

He pushed you back in the bed, so that you flat on your back, as Jimin hovers over you. You’d never seen his face this close. Jimin cradles the side of your face and slots his lips with yours for the first time.

It felt so good kissing Jimin.

He holds you gently as your lips glide together, his kiss completely opposite when it comes to oral sex. Gentle and light. He moves his lips with yours, tasting himself on your tongue and moaning into your mouth when he does. You pant against each other in between kisses, Jimin using the opportunity to bite and suck on your bottom lip until you're pushing yourself against him, seeking more.

He pulls away and gets up from the bed, discarding his hoodie off of his body, his body completely bare now. He hovers over you once again, this time groping your left tit in one hand, his thumb flicking over the sensitive nub, and rubbing your clit in the other.

"You want me to fuck you hard, don't you? You want me to fuck you like a slut, treat you like the dirty little whore that you are." He growled and roughly grabbed your thighs, pulling them apart, his cock aligned on your pussy. Youre a moaning mess, his assault on your breast and clit never stopping.

Just then you felt a sting on your left breast, making you yelp at the sensation.

“Answer me Y/N. You want me to use you good like a whore or not?” he growled.

“F-fuck Jimin y-yes please!” You whimpered, face contorted with need when not long after, you felt another slap on your other tit.

“Please what, bitch?” He asked, his hand not stopping the relentless abuse on your clit, when you feel him twist your nipple, demanding you to beg again. You could feel his rock hard cock poking your entrance.

“Please Jimin, fuck me like a needly little slut right now!” you whimpered, not caring about anything. You’ve wanted his cock for long now anyway.

Lining up, Jimin sunk his throbbing cock inside of you, the angle of the position letting him sink until he was fully inside of you, the glide was easy from how sloppy wet you were.

"I've always wanted you, you know..." he pants loudly as he continues to thrust in you. "Such a shame that you never let me have this pussy before.”

He kept one hand on your hip and another pressed into your shoulder to keep you in place as he finally let go, pounding into you with all the force he had. Every ounce of pent up lust and confusion he had for you all these months came pouring out through the fervor of his thrusting. The way you moaned his name sent chills up his spine.

The room filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin and the squelch of your pussy dripping and coating Jimin’s cock.

“You're so tight... So wet and tight around my cock. Fuck!" He growled and his thrusts became erratic as he began to slam deeper and faster into your tight hole.

"You’re... So... Fucking..” He reaches forward and grabs your throat, squeezing gently. "fucking... tight… Fuck!”

He could feel you squeeze him, and he dug his fingers Tightening on your throat.

"Do you wanna cum, baby?"

"Fuck jimin please!" you sputtered. "Please let me cum."

Jimin slapped your cheeks, feeling his own orgasm approaching as he thrusted into you in an animalistic pace. He starts to rub your clit furiously once again.

"Cum, you little whore. Cum all over my cock like a good girl." He growled, his filthy words finally making you snap.

Jimin had you screaming and writhing as he fucked you through your orgasm, Sweat was beading at his forehead and glistened across his chest and back, chasing his high. Jimin leaned down to press his body against yours as his hips continued to snap into you.

Jimin moaned against your skin as he reached his release, painting your walls for the first time. "Oh fuck," he moaned, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. Jimin collapsed on his back beside you, eyes fluttering shut as he watched stars shoot behind his eyelids. You were still panting and he felt your quivering vibrate through the mattress. Both of you, utterly spent.

“…dont you have to go..?” you finally ask him, after gaining enough energy to speak. His eyes opened up, looking at your beautiful face red, hair fucked up, makeup melted down your face, cum and sweat drenching your body from the pleasure he gave you.

“Why? you gonna steal steal another hoodie from my room after I go?” He jokes, tucking a strand of hair from your face behind your ear, watching your lips bloom a smile.

“Fuck you.” You roll your eyes.

“Already did.” Jimin smirks, pulling your body closer to his.

“And i will, in future.”

taglist:

@jkslipppiercing @iarchmybaculaa @rispwr @jmstoesblog @jeonaissance @lovelyglares @cybsoo2 @maimurachulsoo09

lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist or click here to be added in the taglist.

-riri🪽

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themareverine · 3 months ago

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—designated driver

old man!Logan x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS: “Hey driver!” Tits, yeah—counts two of 'em. What Logan can't quite shake isn't the drunk-off-her ass's $20,000 tit job, or even the way his passengers embarrass themselves with shameless come-ons, stupid amounts of money. something else, entirely—a pretty little thing all done up in makeup and curls, wishing she were anywhere but third-wheeling a drunk hen party. "Sorry about my friend, she's—" "Didn't even notice her, honey."

warnings: this is so offensively long, I'm SORRY. flirting, drunkenness, flashing, maybe some oldman!logan inappropriate thoughts, maybe a kiss, general shyness/awkardness of that girl, language, not proofread, mentions of oral sex, OC has blue eyes.

a/n: and finally, after many weeks, it's here. not entirely sure how i feel about this, it's very self indulgent. let me know what you think, and maybe there needs to be a part two?

There’s a lot of things about this fucking limo that Logan hates.

For one, you couldn’t ask for a shittier lease agreement, and if such a hellish thing dared to exist, Satan holds the pink slip. Two years ago it had seemed like a good fucking idea, leasing some long black experimental piece of Chrysler shit that was heavy off the line and a low fatass—hot as fuck though, with chrome plated lugs. Midnight metal flake showed every piece of God’s earth, the color of sin. Washed the fucker every other day. Couldn’t make green with a dirty rig, and he was an anal retentive sonuvabitch like that to begin with. And the interior, fuck that, it would tell secrets it showed every damn piece of filth that fell into it. Paid or otherwise.

This shitpiece had a tendency to run hot and burn crude, but, she got the groceries—brought home bacon, if that was even still a thing in this century. Toss up between this and the Navigator the color of bad ideas, he’d flipped for the Chrysler. Industry standard, turned heads, attracted the upper echelon. No intention of hauling around fucktards into the suburbs—black paint looked good under Vegas neon on the strip.

But the biggest fucking thing he hated about this rig— fucking privacy partition. Busted worse than a fat lip and had been since the jump. Any serious driver, that would’ve been the first thing to check. Separate him from the sin—hot piece of ass that slid into the backseat looking at him like he’s dinner, a couple too deep in on the red to think straight, the fucker on business hiding his wedding ring in his dick pocket as he picks up an STD.

The first God-awful time he’d went to use it, the damn thing had all but stood up and shrieked in his ear. Grinding gears, the knock of a seized electric motor—scared the shit out of the handsy blonde who’d been trying to get his dick wet since the moment she’d dropped into the back of the Chrysler, tits all but popping from what looked like at least a size too small black—thing. Hadn’t been a dress, he’d seen plenty of them slide in and out—she’d made a spectacle of showing off the little lace number squirreled away for the right price. And it wasn’t that he’d been preening for a look, wasn’t his style—but when it’s right there. Plain as the nose on anyone’s face, and he’s been chaste as a priest for fucking years. It taking up all the glass of his rearview, looking like a felony—the devil had all but welded his attention between her legs.

”Looks like you’re stuck with me, hm?”

Fucking partition. A business-only kiss landed two hundred green ones between his abs and the elastic of his Calvins. A handful of hours of rack and many shotglasses later had put him on the scent to hell, the damn dealership. Four hours from the border, four hours from any kind of work—he’d all but flown the thing into the service bay. Demanded a new partition. And, Logan had been laughed out of a lot of places the last two centuries he’d been sucking air—laughed, jeered, driven out with pitchforks. Circumstances aside, it all ended the same. Vamoose, pissed off his rocker.

An astronomical estimate later, with the fucked-in-the-rear-end isn’t covered by warranty—his fist had collided with the service writer’s nose faster than his patience had evaporated for the blonde. All but jammed the prick’s deviated septum up into his brainspace—Logan had felt it between his knuckles. Only thing keeping his patience held together, keeping the claws in, the man’s crunching cartilage had given him a high not much removed from amphetamine—it had felt good. Feel some asshat’s blood on his hands, staining his skin. See it hit the floor in fat, thick drops. Feel the warmth of it fade as he brushed it away, coppery scent an idea beneath his nose so familiar it may as well pay rent.

Didn’t get his partition, though. Just a bad taste of customer service and the satisfaction of seeing a grown man cry.

Logan isn’t a man to complain—never did change the cards dealt you at the gametable of living. Better to shut up and play, make due with what you’ve got than wish away opportunities. Sure, an almost-lemon of a leased Chrysler with a busted partition wasn’t great, but, it wasn’t that long ago that he’d have given his right nut for the chance to work, much less actual green. Put up and shut up had been the mantra since he’d all but popped out of his mother, and it had, for all intents and purposes, kept him this side of the dirt. Sucking air and feeling, if nothing more—and what was surviving, if not sucking air and feeling?

Doesn’t know. Doesn’t care.

Music that’s been muffled most of the ride tonight suddenly isn’t, the back door of the rig flinging open, a wide arch, revealing the world beyond. Neon bleeds across the black leather of his interior. A smack of humidity rushes in, almost immediately fogs the passenger windows— he keeps it ass-in-winter cold, A/C all but screaming full bore. Likes it that way, keeps him awake. Keeps them awake, he isn’t hauling anyone’s ass anywhere because they fell asleep in his seats.

And while he isn’t startled—there isn’t fucking anything that could scare him, he doesn’t think—Logan’s spine pulls into a straight line against his seat at the sliver of night outside the door. Alarm bells sound off in the back of his head, eyes narrowed on the rearview—hand all but lava, hovering over the gearshift. He’s been here before, on the jump. Ready to rock and roll, ready to kill—should killing need be. He’s lived two centuries on this edge, this cliff. Walking the line between reflex and ready. It’s almost carved into his skin, alarm—comes as naturally as the crest and fall of his chest.

Logan relaxes a little when a peek of skin slips hurriedly into the back seat, familiar stiletto heels. Air in the limo immediately snaps to an all-soldier attention, flustering—like a disturbed hen rustling her chicks. Something isn’t right, isn’t stable—nuclear, almost. Dangerous. The car shifts a little with incoming weight as one of the night’s passengers whisks into the back. Curl and makeup and the familiar whiff of peaches escorts her in as she pulls the door closed, all too quickly for this to be a normal, unbothered arrival.

Her. Muscle in his jaw ticks off, it takes willpower not to wriggle in the front seat, shift his weight a little. Usually it helped shake off the hot weight of sex rolling around the base of his gut, desire. Carnal things he’d learned to live without, suppress. Animalistic and snapping at his spine like frothing wolves. Most times, it was easy to not notice—girls, women, came and went in their short dresses and makeup. Pretty to see, but venomous little things. Maneaters, trouble on stilts. None of them were pretty–pretty in the way that mattered, pretty souls. Ugliness shot behind their eyes like bullets, low and cold. Dimes and dozens, nameless and unnoteworthy as they slipped him tips, batted their lashes, kissed him like he was their plaything because who’s he to fight a pair of tits? Forgettable is understating it.

But her? He hasn’t been able to unglue her piercing eyes from his brain matter. And, he’s tried—like it or not, he’s tried bailing water out of this canoe, a canoe that’s been hallowed and empty for God knew how long. But it’s like emptying water back into the ocean—it only comes back, heavier and heavier.

No dice. Close, but no cigar–unlucky bastard.

She’d slipped into the limo before the night had even been an idea, one of three who’d decided to split fare for a sober ride. Pharmacy, first, for little more than IVs of electrolytes and fluids—never had seen girls guzzle so fast, but, whatever. Mile-a-minute chatter he hadn’t even bothered to pace had kept them busy most of the ride into the metroplex, and Logan should’ve prayed they’d ignored him. Kept his fat trap shut and just let them guide him, but God, no. He’d asked—asked for directions. Where they were going.

Had asked, and fuck him, that had sent things off with a bang. As if they hadn’t realized he’d been there, all three of them had locked eyes with him in the rearview, surprised thrown over the air like a stifling blanket. Heartbeats later, awkward and thick, one of them had leaned forward. Arms over the seat, showing off everything God had given her as she’d all but pumped her bedazzled phone in his face as if it were a shotgun.

He’d clocked her noticing he wasn’t wearing a ring. Was jacked as fuck under an two-undone button shirt and jacket that fit him like sin. Deliberate choice, but–she’d all but started drooling right there on his lap, hungry like a starving man at banquet.

Asking God for some shred of mercy had done little—the look on her face. He’d never forget it, had seen enemies look at him with more mirth and pity. Shit. Hungry, in the eyes. Desperate, like a dying woman choking on her own libidol. After rattling off the address, it would've been faster if he’d just hit the brakes and sent her flying forward through the window. Skulking back into her seat as if it were an X-rated shot, she’d eye fucked him hard until she’d been dragged back into hushed, schoolgirl conversation. Gross.

And that was it, the beginning of the end. Eyes glued to the back of his head like some kind of anchor—Logan could’ve tasted them from here. Was hell trying not to make eye contact in the rearview, feeling their gaze hunting him like wild banshees. Spiking adrenaline, heady plumes of pheromones. Arousal, unlike anything he’d ever wanted to scent—stunk up the air like God knew. Half-starved vixens, all low and bedroom eyes, begging for trouble in all the right little ways that leave men slobbering fools. Had they been parked and out of the Chrysler, the two of them would’ve been on their knees, if not on his cock.

He’d blasted the air again, because the air in the damn car was so thick he would’ve cut it in halves.

Low lashes, smoky eyes. Lips the color of cherries. Tight black dresses and heels higher than heaven, they’d been dressed to kill—maybe a little less. Lobotomize, maybe. Cut out hearts, certainly—blue ball, absolutely.

Pity the bastard who gets the taste of these tarts, pity, and probably mercy.

Bachelorettes, he’d guessed off the gun. Correctly, too—not two blocks from CVS and out came cheap accessories. FUCK ME may as well have been written in lipstick on Stuck-In-the-Middle’s forehead, he assumed she was the future betrothed. By the look of her, much less the smell, she’d been aching for tonight. Primed and desperate, like an oil-starved pistol. Clawing for it, walking the heat of the desert for change. Something else, something new, something dangerous—cock. Dick. Be it Tom, Harry, or some other poor fool—Logan could clock it from anywhere. She’d been sitting on this for a hot minute. Maybe since she’d been born.

And Logan’s uncertain who to pity more—her or the mediocre cock she’s about prowling for—the lopsided tiara, tacky dimestore BRIDE sash out of a CVS bag were just warning signs. Red flags, if you were smart about it. Darkness in her eyes would make any man second guess the two carats on her finger, if men weren’t animals. And they were, every one of them—and she’s far too drop-dead to not demand attention, to not homewreck and ruin some poor, unsuspecting fool’s evening.

Watching her slip those two carats into her handbag, he’d just shook his head.

Silence to stir the dead had followed after they’d eye fucked him into celibacy. Blissful, sweet as the Nile quiet. A creak of movement, the slip of skin on leather—her. Short brunette curls with highlights, icy blues. Defined collarbones in a hardly-strapped dress, big earrings. Sparkles, everywhere, blended into makeup that’s been on awhile but still looks good. And she, she isn’t like the rest—not by a mile. How she moves, the way her lashes flutter. Doe-eyed and sweet. Doesn’t smell like sin, the kiss of color on her cheeks isn’t blush, either.

Peaches, this one smells like fucking peaches. Something floral.

She’s sweet. Saccharine, sugary. Like everything Logan’s forgotten. Pretty, in that girl-next-door kinda way—the way he’s always noticed, the way nobody else ever does. And what a pretty thing like her is doing in the back of his sinwagon, riding with Jezebels, hunting for trouble—he’ll never know.

Hours before this, she’d leaned forward, pretty hands on the back of his seat. Done up nails that looked fake, but not cheap. This close, he could see her contact lenses replacing nine-to-five frames, the permanent little indentations on her nose were unmissable. Ocean eyes smiled at him through the glass of his rearview, as if it were a game. Good at it, she won—he blinked first.

Offered him a little half smile, that dust of color on her nose darkening to an almost strawberry. When his eyes hit hers again from the road, icy blues ramped up like pulsing neon, unlike any he’d ever seen in two fucking centuries. Difficult to think, he’d had to realize he was holding his breath in the pocket of his cheek, hot against his molars. She’d reached across the back of the seat to gently nudge him with her elbow—hey. It should’ve sounded like something you gave to horses, but it was—considerate.

Nearly fucking polite.

You got the address okay, sir? If his tongue hadn’t swollen to the size of his balls he’d have dared to laugh at her. Sir. If he thinks hard, Logan can’t remember the last time he’d been seriously called sir, from a place of consideration, behind the ribs. He’s been alive for hundreds of years, seen a lot of shit and blood, but has been called a professional and crisp sir all but five times in his existence on God’s planet.

Shaking himself out of it, he tells himself she isn’t the first pretty skirt to grace the leathers of his Chrysler. To look pretty and smell good, to stir up his cold blood. Wouldn’t be the last, by far. Part of his marketing was that he was safe. Stuck around, even when the witching hour faded into bleeding colors of morning. Fair & There, as if he were a fucking marketing guru.

She’d slipped out of the limo with her friends even though he’d wanted her to stay. Wanted to smell her and look at her all night, mull over all the things in his life he’d abandoned. Think about how, maybe, in some other world, bend of time, something that sweet could belong to him. But, she’d thanked him. Obviously the designated sober of the night, she’d arranged to text fifteen minutes before they wanted to leave in case he wanted to get a drink or took another gig.

I’ll be here all night, and that wasn’t a lie. The flask burning a hole against his heart had enough whiskey to last him until morning, another bottle tucked under the seat for safekeeping. He was safe, he was there, and too damn tired to even try to think about driving around the city on a time schedule.

It’d been two hours, parked under the neon at the curb. Not even midnight. Normal clients would just be breaking stride, setting paces. At the gate, snorting like stallions in heat. Rutting like animals, working the game. Nothing he didn’t know all too well, he’d lived his wild years a lifetime ago—he knew what sex and booze, a good time smelled like. Could clock it every time, wasn’t daft. Had witnessed his fair share of back-alley fucks, the straightening of a hemline. Crooked buttons and tented-out slacks.

Tonight wouldn’t be different, he assumed—well. Had assumed. Which, as the saying went, made him an ass.

Her heartbeat from the frontseat is almost tangible, hard and fast. Jackrabbit—as if she’d dropped it in his hands, bleeding and raw all over his fingers. Logan’s eyes fall away from the rearview for a beat, ticks back to her when she slides across the seat. Straightening the end of her dress, which hits below the knee–or would, if she were upright, but now pulls at her thighs. And the way she fiddles with it suggests it’s shorter than it was earlier in the evening, when sin was exciting and didn’t slap like a bitch.

Tucked in against the opposite door, looking out tinted glass like it’s a skyline worth seeing, not just a lot of nothing. And something’s off, he can feel it in the little pulses of electricity of the air, the heat in her blood. Anger. The tick tick tick of frustrated fingernails on the edge of the window. Upset. It buzzes in her blood, which he can feel thumping against her bones from here. Slick scent of sweat between her thighs, swirls of alcohol and pyrotechnic smoke mixed with fairy dusting drugs. It’s enough to make him shift, crack the window.

Long gone are the peaches and florals, now she just bleeds with heat and virility enough to stir the gods. Fucking perfect.

How long’s it been, old boy? Dull pangs in his cock make him shift up in his seat, stir some blood into his feet. Eyerolls, gaze hitting the pavement out his window, sick fuck. Just a girl, just like the rest. Reaches inside his breast pocket for a cigar and a light.

And as much as he wishes it isn’t true, Logan can’t quite shake that she ain’t just a girl—not by a shot, long or short. He’s seen a thousand of them, sure—seen and tasted and fucked senseless. Yeah. But—none like this. None that make him burn at the drop of a hat and a smile. None that twist his guts like a corkscrew, rip him open like he’s a fresh kill. He didn’t even know her name, anything about her. He swore to God he wasn’t this type of man, couldn’t be bought with some pretty eyes and cherry lipstick. Happened to wet-behind-the-ears boys only ever hoping their balls dropped into manhood, not guys like him. Not men that had seen a thing or two, not men who had sampled the female sex from every fucking era the last two hundred years had presented.

Not men with demons, not men with metal bones and rust spinning through his cells like Satan’s blood. Not him.

But it doesn’t seem to matter, because her presence in the limo upsets his sensibilities like an earthquake. Seemed to fillet him like a fat bass, pull his ribs back to watch his heart beat. Everything he didn’t know, everything she could be—choked the life out of him, those wicked blues heavy as steel. If he weren’t careful, she’d see through him, like—like memories. And she, like everyone else, wouldn’t like what she saw lurking in his bones, in the organ behind his ribs.

All his life hiding who he is, years hiding from everything the world wanted to label him, only to—

Fuck. Yeah. Something’s off—is his leg bouncing? The fuck is that about? Fuck, fuck. His fingers card through his hair, cough aching in his bronchial tubes. Shit.

Another glance in the glass reveals she isn’t even looking at him, thoughts out the window in the shifting low lights of the limo’s interior. Maybe a million miles from here, but nonetheless—she’s everywhere, every damn where in the space of the Chrysler, this sinwagon that’s messing with his head. Everything about her. Her scent, her pheromones playing him like a fucking game, the heat along her spine. Blood in her veins, ripping through her heart, the pull and push of arteries and cardiovascular muscle. Mesh of her lungs, rising and falling. He’s tuned into it like it’s the fucking evening news.

And everything about this is wrong, his guts swim with it.

Fingering the cigar between two swollen knuckles, Logan ignores pain that zings. Rips through the adamantium in his arm like it’s starving, hunting for air. And Logan is maybe considering that he’s lost his mind, that it’s somehow taken up residence in his dick, when—-a sniffle.

Good fuck. Is she crying? Fuck, fuck, fuck.

It’s magic, the little breathy thing girls do when they’ve been crying, but don’t want you to flag it. Witchraft, maybe. Men will never understand how they do it, cry without tears, but—it’s a thing. Definitely, confirmed by science somewhere, some egghead in a lab taking notes on female specimens and how they manage such emotion while still looking like she does. Vaguely his memories spin with all the girls he’s known throughout his life, and how every single one of them have this ability hardwired into their core being, mutations aside.

Biting the cigar between his teeth in the corner of his mouth, he flicks the lighter between his thumb and index finger, holding it up in line of sight. His head angles to look up at the rearview, a rough cough rattling the mesh of his lungs enough to trigger her attention. And sure enough, she has been crying—her knuckle gently brushes at the trails of tears all but neon on her face beneath the limo’s lights, eyes flicking to the rearview to meet his.

Coughing, he eases his back against the seat. Hot muscle burns a little as tension bleeds away, “You care if I smoke?”

And why he asks, Logan isn’t sure—he’s never asked before. Then again, he’s never had to ask, because it’s a standing policy to not smoke on a gig. Tonight, though, he needs something to do with his hands, to calm the magma rushing through his blood, the cold sweat bubbling up on the back of his neck. Staining his white fucking shirt. Even a blush from the grave and exhausted, slowly dying away from whatever is inside of him, he isn’t an idle man. If he doesn’t do something, he won’t be able to help himself—he can barely fight back the urge to not lose whatever sanity’s buried alive and get himself off, right here and now.

Anything to masquerade the scent of whatever’s slick between her legs. You are a sick, perverted fuck, Logan. True, probably. But it’s been years, a lot of years. And he hasn’t wanted a lot of women, hasn’t clocked many that he’d actually enjoy rousting up a fantasy over. And she smells like a good time, something he may not actually regret. That would be a first.

Tucking a little tighter against the door, her eyes close as she gently shakes her head. Curls flick around her features as she does, and she cracks her window before reaching forward to slip off both shoes. Logan had noticed them—yellow, bright highlighter yellow so jovial they may as well have smacked him upside his head. So out of place, but they were sexy as hell—he’d always appreciated a well dressed woman, and as impractical as they were, high heels did add a punch of something that made him a little hard in the dick.

“I do, but go ahead,” it’s a little sigh, one he’s all but five-star VIP familiar. “One of us should enjoy ourselves, anyway.”

In zero to none he flicks the lighter to life, burns the edge of the cigar until it’s hot. Thick, it rides his throat perfectly—chases that gut-twisting urge that’s coiled around the base of his spine like a viper. Through his blood it goes, ramping up the rust and poison and years that kill, and he heaves a sigh—falls back a little rougher against the seat. That ache in his cock twitches, but she retreats.

His eyes fall closed, heart settling down behind his bones. “You wouldn’t happen to sell those little bottles of booze in this rig, would you?” Makes him start a little, and Logan blinks. A little surprised, he angles to look over his shoulder at her, arm lifting to drape over the bench seat. Brow raised, she elaborates, obviously reading his expression. “You know, the luxury part of ‘luxury accomodations’?”

“Not a part of the deal, honey.”

“Ah, you don’t like money, then,” the corner of her mouth ticks up with a smirk when he shifts a little more in his seat to study her. He catches what she lays down, without thinking. “And I ain’t anyone’s ‘honey’, so don’t be an ass and assume. Please.” Blinking, Logan can’t remember the last time he felt his stomach actually lift with amusement—the little way she says her ‘o’s’ is dangerous, suggests the north–either Canada. Minnesota, Wisconsin. North Dakota maybe? Anywhere but this far on the border, the edge of the world. Interesting.

Fucking Calliban. Knew he’d regret the hard copy that albino had suggested, but, it was too little too late. Surprised, he manages a little growl of complaint before he leans forward, hand fumbling against the floorboard carpet of the passenger’s side. Knuckles nudge the bottle of Jack Daniels, and he grabs the neck of it before allowing it to dangle between his fingers. Amber liquid dances like a tornado through the bottle, sloshing against the glass like a dream.

Unstopping it, he pulls back a sharp drink of it. “Have at it,” it’s rough, raw. Irritation peeks through the teeth of it, but it’s more resigned than anything.

Leaning forward, her eyes hold his and she hesitates to snatch the bottle away, hand hanging in the air. She’s got lithe fingers, bigger hands—hands that look strong. His attention cocks slightly when he notices the callouses, the scars on her knuckles. They aren’t polished, nine-to-five office hands like ninety percent of the girls who pass through his service. Briefly he wonders what her fake nails would feel like curled against skin, but dismisses it when she plucks the bottle from between his fingers.

“Thanks,” her chuckle comes from her gut, almost a growl of relief that says finally! as she puts the cool class to her lips. Guzzles back a full shot. Rights, her cherry lips part into a small smile as she hands the bottle back, passing her thumb over left behind lipstick. “Good God that burns,” managing a little cough, Logan replaces the stop and pops it between his thighs. “But it’s good. Takes the edge off.”

I bet it does. He manages a growling mhm, settling back into his seat. Thinking that’s the last of it. Content to look out the window and smoke his cigar, not think about the heat ricocheting off the adamantium in his pelvis. How it stirs up his blood, how her voice is that perfect lilt of low and just high enough.

Head swimming with the mental picture of her beneath him, breathless and hot, he bristles to attention when her arms drape over the front seat. Very suddenly all Logan can smell is the heady smell of woman and sweat rolling off of her like a locomotive.

She mutters under her breath something Logan can’t quite track, bit the way she picks at a nail with her teeth, gaze anywhere but inside the low limo’s lighting, would imply negatives. And she could’ve started reciting the phone book, he wouldn’t have noticed—far too busy noticing cleavage and the valley of her collarbones to be able to think straight.

But his stare gets heavy, she notices the thick air that’s smothering the limo like a wet dream–her eyes find his, a little smile at the corner of her mouth when his flick away. Oh, good fuck. Her eyes bore into him through the rearview. Uncapping the Jack, he takes another sharp pull of it. It chases the warmth in the back of his throat, blooming in his chest like he didn’t know what.

More pregnant silence. She shifts against the leather, hot skin sticky against it. Reaching to put the car in accessory, Logan fiddles with the A/C. He clocks her swiping her heels from the floor, wrangling them back on her feet—hadn’t she just taken the damn things off?

“I should go get them before either of them do something they’ll regret,” her eyes cast to the clock on the dash, which isn’t terribly far from his ID information, which is offensively just there. “It’s late.” It isn’t, not really. Logan thinks this has to be the most conservative hen party in the history of such things, but his jaw clamps shut.

If he can bail them out of his car early, he may be able to catch a few hours of sleep before the early-hour rush. That hour when last call sends boozers into the streets, looking for rides. That’s where the money was, after all—and God knew he could use the dough.

Her hand floating over the handle of the door, as if she’s waiting for his consent. “Paid by the hour, darlin’,” and Logan does not miss the way darlin’ hits her—sharp eyes flick down to his mouth for a fraction of a heartbeat, a little plume of color lifting to the apples of her cheeks that definitely isn’t rouge. Blush, they called it now. She has plenty of it on her face, but it darkens something pretty in a way that, usually, would amuse him.

Instead, now, he just lifts a hand to slot through the openings on the Chrsyler’s steering wheel, ignoring the ache between his knuckles.

He can’t have arthritis, can he? Popping the latch, he twists out of the limo. Crosses around the front through the headlights to her side. A flick of his fingers and he pulls open the door, highlighter yellow heels spilling out to the pavement in that Hollywood way.

He doesn’t do this— he makes a habit not to touch customers. Usually his hand finds his pocket, as a rule. But for some reason, her eyes skating through the dark, panning around the street and the front of the club, lights the mesh of his lungs on fire. Offering her his hand, its appearance before her drops a rod through her spine—she straightens, blinking at it once before her fluttery lashes look up at him.

He wonders if the little flick of muscle in her jaw actually takes muscle memory. Looking at him with a look that’s uncertain, that’s you sure? heartbeats pass and make the moment uncomfortable. Shuffling his weight on his feet, his hand falls from the door and to his pocket, palming the lighter against his thigh. Phlegm and whatever else God created in the human body rattles around the poison in his chest, a low cough echoing off his bones.

It takes her a second to collect, looking between him and his hand. “By the hour. Right,” her eyes skate down his chest, over all of him, as if she’s making sure. Her hand slips into his too lightly to matter, as if she’s making an effort to limit contact—and that’s a good thing, because Logan is fairly sure the world had stopped spinning, the electrical pulses of his body kicking to overdrive at just how alive her skin feels. Senses heightened to infinity. He could count stars, maybe, with the way her nails deliciously press into his palm, rough and hard. Warm, the scent of peaches all but punches his lights out—he can’t even taste his cigar, body enamored with the way she smells, how her hand all but boils in his.

The fuck, Logan.

Stepping out, sharp eyes navigate the front of the club, and a blackhole of the universe suddenly opens between them when her hand falls away. Heels tick against the concrete as she turns to face him batting the door closed. Hands in pockets, he kicks back against the Chrysler. Waiting.

“Thanks,” her smile is small, eyes casting down to the filth of midnight on the concrete, “It shouldn’t be long.”

He shrugs, “‘S your money, honey,” is followed by a grunt as she nods, turns on her heel. Sashays back into the front of the club before flashing a wristband to the bouncer. Between the help eyeballing her in that dress and Logan unable to stop ogling just how it clings, highlights every curve of her, it’s a miracle either of them are still standing.

Reappearing fifteen minutes later with girlfriends in tow, Logan folds them into the limo politely, without incident. Giggling, traces of the night have painted both of her companions—long gone is the bride sash and dimestore plastic tiara. Replaced by smudged-and-attempted-to-be-fixed makeup. Teased hair, ruffled clothes. Nobody could miss that hickey for anything, it would take stock-market shattering amounts of base to cover it up—Mars would have a better time trying to see needles in haystacks. No amount of cigar smoke clinging to his clothes, sweat hanging out as an idea under his nose could cut through that unmistakably sweet musk of sex, sweat.

Before Logan can ask where to point the Chrysler, the other girl pops off an address from her phone to what is most definitely not their hotel, or anywhere remotely in the neighborhood of partylife. Brow raised, Logan peeks the rearview to see his companion whirl so quickly in her seat, he wonders how her head is still attached. Look on her face says everything words don’t, but she asks anyway—”Where the hell is that?”

Trying not to overhear, but it’s impossible, he fiddles with the temperature controls again when the one lifts the hair from the back of her neck. “It’s a hotel,” no shit, it’s the most expensive district in the area. Highbrows stay here—he’d picked them up on the opposite side of the metro, in the middle class accommodations. Sour bile splashes up the back of his throat, jaw setting–he knows what’s about to happen.

“No, really? And here I thought it was the frickin’ monastery,” lunging over her friend stuck in the middle, she plucks the phone from her friend’s hand—laughing hysterically, face flushed with alcohol and tipsy giggles, her jaw opens fully on its hinge. Rapt attention almost has his heart exploding, he nearly misses the stop sign—pops the brake a little hard.

She studies herself against the door, eyes flicking to him for half a second. Phone flipping screen first to her friend, she nods to it. “Who the hell is Mike?” Lowering the phone to her lap, her eyes skate between the two friends, hard. Heavy. Fast. “Oh my god. Don’t tell me—”

“It’s just a fling,” her name rolls off her friend’s tongue sourly, like cold venom. If Logan weren’t so invested in the outcome of this conversation he’d think it was almost melodic, a unique name. Fine and perfect for the sweet little thing currently erupting in his backseat. Too busy pacing traffic, his tongue skates along over his back molars, “don’t get your panties in a twist, honey. It’ll just for a few hours, to have some fun.”

“A few hours?” The actual squeak in her tone was laughable, “You’re joking—you’re actually kidding me. You can’t just go fuck some random guy you met in a bar, you’re getting married.” Offensive hangs in the words like a hot iron, branding itself into the atmosphere with weighty judgment enough to make her chest rise and fall with rapid, uneven breaths. “I won’t let you—”

Eyeroll extreme, Logan could’ve flinched with how much it snaps like a whip. “Oh my god, would you just chill out?” Looking to the other friend, who’s phone is still held captive on her lap, Logan bites the inside of his cheek. Like black cobras their chests fan out, both of them turning to cast frigid judgment to their third, who is pressed against the door to create distance from the very idea of the two of them. For fuck’s sake, “It’s just oral, honey—”

He snorted. All their eyes trip to him, but Logan is nothing if not suave—covering with a cough, he bites back a smile into his lower lip, looking down to his lap. Holy shit, they were actually having this conversation. In the back of his limo. If he weren’t so amused, it could be hot. Smokin’.

But the look on his companion’s face is too horrified, too innocent for him to take any enjoyment out of the topic of conversation flitting beneath the lights of the limo. It’s scandalousm, really. Nothing he hadn’t seen before, but, it just—it didn’t fit. Without knowing anything about much, he knows this isn’t her. Neon Heels, brunette curls. Lipstick barely upset, smelling like peaches of sweat. He could feel it in the very adamantium slowly flogging life out of his body.

Color drains out of her face, milkwhite like a ghost. He’s fairly certain she’d rather cut out her tongue and serve it to him on a silver platter than actually go through with such things. Logan knows a thing or two about life, he’s studied humanity for a lot of fucking years—he knew the good ones when he saw them. Pure, untouched.

Or, at the very least, good.

“Just oral?”

“Would you just stop, ok? Nobody is asking you to come up. Don’t need to be all, all pissy just because nobody noticed you at the bar,” and it’s hot, like acid. Cutting to bone. Logan watches the words cut like knives through the mesh of her chest, and if his collar wasn’t absolutely on fire, he’d have the audacity to smack some decency into whatever the fuck this chick’s problem was. “It’s not your thing. That’s fine. It’ll be just fine,” leaning forward, the bride informs him that once he’d dropped them at the hotel, he can take her back to their hotel. We’ll just Uber back in the morning.

“Fine by me.”

And it makes more sense, the longer he thinks about it. Explained the tears, the fluster in the atmosphere. Pushing the Chrysler through traffic, the tension in the atmosphere snaps like a rubber band—she doesn’t even flinch. In fact, her jaw clenches. Muscles ticks off bone, and she hands back her friend’s phone before falling back into the seat, eyes cast out the window like they’ve been welded to the darkness. Wind out of her sails, her elbow props on the windows ledge, subconsciously her hand covers half of her face. Quiet as death, unmoving as a sarcophagus.

Logan had never seen someone’s soul die while they were still alive, but he figures this was close.

Silence enough to make the dead uncomfortable follows for a few seconds. He focuses his attention on driving the limo rather than looking in the rearview, because noticing the look on her face, actually caring, is so far out of his pay grade that it’s laughable. To her credit, he doesn’t think she’s actually crying—hell would sooner freeze over, he reckons—but her brow is set in such a hard line, that he can almost read the regret on her face in red letter clarity.

Ensuing conversation about how the bride’s tits look in her hardly-there dress has him almost disinterested. Guiding the Chrysler up to the curb of the hotel, he almost misses "Hey driver!" that's more giggle than it is anything else. Eyes tracking to the rearview, Logan isn’t nearly as surprised as he thought he would be when she rips down the front of what was once, probably, an investment dress—tits, yeah. Nice ones, too—bought and paid for by the looks of it. Tits that size don’t just sit up at attention without a calculated surgeon’s hand.

“Like what you see?”

Puffing out a little nervous chuckle, his brow trips up. He shakes his head, amused. Erupting into a fit of snickers and snorts, their cheeks darken with heat. Falling against themselves, the two of them think they’re fucking hilarious as they begin to discuss the course of their adventure. May as well be full fledged pornography in the back of his rig, the things that fly—it sparks up his blood, empties his mouth of any moisture Jack Daniels may have rousted.

God couldn’t have brought up the hotel’s curb any faster, he thinks. Dropping the Chrysler into park, he angles to pop the latch on his door. Misses completely the moan of leather, the little rock of moving bodies shifting around the backseat.

Logan all but jumps when two hands come around him from behind. “Maybe you should come upstairs, driver—bet you could show a young bride a thing or two, huh?” Fuck, fuck fuck—hands that palm down his chest, snake under the buttons of his white shirt are hot. Hot, practiced. Soft and deliberate, one of their nails flick against his nipple, beneath his undershirt—he grunts back a sharp breath, head all but braced against the Chrysler’s hard headrest.

Adamantium kisses the flesh of his knuckles, and it takes effort not to let loose—more brainpower than he wants to admit, fighting back the reflex. Hand shaking on his knee, he inhales an uneasy breath and presses the heel of either hands onto his knees, biting the corner of his chapped lip. Hand drifting lower, almost to his abs, he snatches her wrist with a speed he doesn’t remember. Couldn’t, hadn’t, for as long as he can think back.

“Somethin’ tells me you know plen’y, honey,” his eyes narrow in the rearview. “Plus, I don’t do free fucks.”

She chuckles, pleased. “Who said anything about free?” Lifting her hand away from inside his shirt, he throws her off—cackling like the little witch she is, she folds out of the limo with her friend, “Very professional of you, driver,” he couldn’t miss the darkness in her tone if he’d tried as she winks at him from his window, “drive safe. Precious cargo, back there.”

Could’ve fooled him.

A wiggle of her fingers goodbye to her friend in the backseat, the hotel’s thick doors swallow both of them whole. Vanishing in a twirl of hair and makeup, Logan turns in his seat to consider his last passenger. She hasn’t moved, merely has kicked off her heels—but she has allowed herself to cry. Fresh tears fall down the length of her cheeks, but she doesn’t sniffle. They’re silent, powerful. Say everything words don’t need to—it’s a deep knife, one that bleeds. Logan can see the film reel running through her brain, on repeat. As if it has subtitles. A black and white horror show of just exactly what had happened, how she’d ended up here.

Curling a leg up under herself, Logan watches her shrink into as small of herself as she can, forehead resting against the cool glass of the limo’s window. And it’s tragic, really—someone who looks like that, reduced to a teary, smoldering shell of a person by mere words. Logan knew people were cruel, he’d seen the worst of humanity up close and personal. His own life was hell trapped in bones and flesh, his own history more horrific than anything Hollywood could dream up.

He drives. That’s what he does, that’s who Logan is now. A driver.

It’s another 20 minutes across town. And the ride is ominous, a mummified tomb that’s suffocating no matter how much air whisks into the limo from open windows. Trapped between wanting to say something and unsure of how to react, he relaxes a little when she finally slips earphones in—mindlessly scrolling a cell phone. Swiping at tears that ruin makeup she no longer cares about. Alone in her own little world of music and heartache, he watches the night fall away from her—her hair goes back into clips, away from her face. Earrings come off. Out come the contacts, replaced instead with glasses from the purse she’d left on the floorboards. Gum, more scrolling on her phone. Heels set on the seat beside her–finally her eyes close as she rests against the cool glass.

Gently rolling the Chrysler to a stop at the curb, she sits up. Breathlessly, she stretches a little, lashes fluttering behind frames that accentuate the shape of her face. And Logan doesn’t remember thinking anyone has ever looked good in glasses, but she topples such ideology when she beats him to the punch—she pops the latch on the door and steps out, barefoot. Heels tucked under her arm, purse hanging off her shoulder, she meets him at his door when he slips out of the front seat.

Handling cash had never felt so cold, bitter. She doesn’t look at him as she counts it into his hand, more than they’d agreed. Slipping the remainder of it back into her bag, she steps back, smiling at him softly. Resigned. Apologetic. Light from the overhang of the hotel sets off whatever shine is on her face, tear stains all but left behind—replaced instead with pink cheeks and sad, swollen eyes.

“Should be square,” she nods to the cash in his hand, “you can count it again if you want, I won’t be offended.” Briefly Logan thinks to care if her friends had managed their parts of the fare, but he dismisses it when she bites the inside of her cheek, tongue skating over her bottom lips as she shifts awkwardly on her feet. “Thank you so much for tonight—you have a beautiful limousine. The whiskey was great, thank you.”

Nodding once, he shrugs a shoulder. She’s buying time in that awkward little way people do when they’re not sure what to say, but think they have to say something. She doesn’t, wouldn’t ever—but he wants her to, strangely. Logan could stand here and listen to her come up with things to say the rest of the night, if he knew it wouldn’t deepen the color on her face, drive a little deeper the knife that’s still gutting her in the ribs.

Sucking in a sharp breath, her eyes track up to his from her feet standing on the warm concrete. “Listen, Logan—” she remembered his name, “I’m sorry about my friend. She’s really wasted, and it totally wasn’t alright for her to proposition you like that. It was actually gross—but that’s not who she is, not really. I’m sorry. She’s just—”

“—didn’t even notice her, honey.” He lies. What else is there to do but lie to this pretty little thing, bloodletting her own pride out at his feet? For a long set of years, Logan has believed there’s very little good left in the human species—very few people who are worth giving two fucks about. But she’s so galiant, defending some slut’s non-existent honor, drowning in her own humiliation and everything he can only imagine happened during a hen party gone sideways.

“Oh, uh, well—” oh. How she says it, the little curve of her mouth. That accented “o”. It’s enough to make him insane, honestly. He’s been with her two hours and can hardly think past the twitch of his cock, the little ache that niggles in the back of his head. Behind his eyes. It gets a little hard to fight, the snapping air between the two of them—for a man who knows what it feels like, it’s difficult. She couldn’t be more nonplussed. Which says more than it needs too, makes it all the more sweet. “Sorry, oh my gosh. I’m just a little—I don’t do things like this.”

And that is honorable, even if there’s very little honor left among the thieves of humanity. She is honorable. So saccharine and pretty it physically hurts him, drying out the back of his throat and knocking at his ribs like a damn jackhammer. Her eyes holding his, searching for anything else, are so deep and alive, bright in the way only Polaris could ever challenge—he suddenly forgets where he is, what century it is. How he got here, what he’s doing, reaching for the thin strap of her dress.

The back of his knuckle gently skips over her skin, the strap of the dress. And before Logan can even manage a breath, his hand moves under her chin, tips it up a little. Unmoving, her eyes widen like two bright moons, light catching them and opening them up like oceans fully unpassable to the known universe. From here he can feel her pulse flying through her blood, and couldn't miss the butterflies in her stomach if he’d been on a different planet. And maybe she’s never been appreciated like this—maybe she’s never felt seen.

Fuck, the things he could do to her. “Quit apologizin’ for bein’ sweet,” he manages a low rasp, the corner of his mouth ticking up with a little grin, “very few pretty things left in the world that’re sweet,” tipping her chin up a little further, his lips hover over hers. “And I bet you taste as good as you look, honey.” Tucking some hair behind her ear, he rubs one of her curls between the calluses on his fingers.

He gets back in his car, and Logan drives. Because that's what he does—he drives.

tags: @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @fandomxo00 @th3mrskory @blossoming-hotch

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saturnville · 9 months ago

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oops, l. hamilton

pairing: lewis hamilton x black wife reader/oc (she) content: she comes home after a long night and gives him an unexpected show. warnings: voyeurism (?), sexual innuendo, sexual situations song: oh my vs slow jamz (JP) an: thank you for reading <3 let me know what you think! tags: @boujiestpoet @mauvecherie-writes @saintslewis @greedyjudge2 @vile-harlot @emjayewrites @ggaslyp1 @neeville

He urged her to take time for herself. To bask in the beauty of life, enjoy the presence of her girlfriends, and have the night of her life. He asked her to take a break and soak in the moment. So, he arranged for her to have a girls' night with her closest friends. With money in her pocket and his number on the speed dial, he ushered her out the door with a kiss, “Enjoy yourself. I’ll be here when you get back.”

“See you soon,” she whispered against his lips. Her manicured nails brushed against her palms as she waved one, two, three, before disappearing into the night. He chuckled at her and retreated into their shared home.

Soon turned into three in the morning. He was awakened by her heels scruffing against the floor. Click, clack, he heard her walk through their home. He sat up slowly and rubbed his eye with the stump of his hand. His legs swung over the bed and his feet followed the sounds he heard.

She was in the hallway just outside their bedroom struggling to take her heels off. Her purse had slid across the floor along with her phone and she wiggled like a leaf to keep her balance. Then, her knees buckled and she fell. “Shit.”

“I see you had a good time,” Lewis said, announcing his presence. She shrieked at the sound of his voice but her surprise turned into a dopey smile. Lewis’ finger found the lightswitch and he finally saw her in all her drunken glory. Her hair was no longer straight but rather frizzy around the edges and poofy. Her eyeliner had smeared, her lipstick was gone, and her dress was twisted. She still looked gorgeous nonetheless.

“Baby!” she reached for him and accepted the loving kiss on her lips. “Missed you…” She wrapped her arms around his neck and toyed with his braids thay were no longer in the ponytail. She moaned against his lips as she fell into his embrace.

He pulled away shortly after and said, “I missed you too. C’mon, let’s get ready for bed.” Lewis found her phone and purse and offered his arm to his wife, who stabilized herself against his body.

“I’m tired,” she mumbled, rubbing her eye with the stump of her hand. When they made it to their bedroom, Lewis placed her belongings on the dresser and plucked her bonnet and pajamas from the top drawer. “Gonna take a shower.”

His ears perked. Before he had a chance to respond, he saw her dress slip down her hips and pool at her feet. She shook her hair and turned to face him, smiling smugly as his eyes raked her bare body. If she wasn’t drunk, he’d pull her to the bed and have her screaming his name while he dug into her. But, he blinked once and nodded toward the bathroom. “Go ahead. Gonna get you some water.”

She made her way to the bathroom, but not before kissing him once more. “Thank you.”

When Lewis returned to their shared bedroom, bottle of water and her favorite snack in hand, he expected to hear the shower running and her lovely voice in harmony with the rhythm of the water against the tile shower floor, but instead, he caught a glimpse of her silhouette, riveting and ravishing in all its glory.

Her shadow, mirrored against the white door that separated her from him, moved like waves. He heard the low hums from the song that played from the bathroom speakers, but the catchy beat was nothing in comparison to the rhythm of her hips.

He took a step forward. Just barely a shuffle across the floor. Then, he saw her in all her glory. Her bare glory on display. His breath hitched and his jaw clenched. Suddenly, the water and bag of chips were a balloon, ready to pop as his grip tightened around them.

Suddenly, the desire that lay dormant within him was sparked and ignited a fire within his loins. He should have felt like a creep, like a weird man for admiring his wife as she caressed every inch of her body with love and adoration. He should have, but he didn’t. What he wanted was for her to continue. To give him a show.

To drop her hands from her frizzy hair and trail her palms down her shoulders and outline the shape of her breats with her manicured fingers, making sure to stop over her nipples to give a teasing flick, then continue down the plane of her stomach. And she did exactly that.

Her hand dropped between her legs, where she ghosted over the treasure between her thighs. She’d taken a page out of his book--letting her fingertips ghost along her inner thighs then dropping further to where her fingers grazed her swollen lips and her thumb drummed against her glistening pearl. The sound she elicited made his pants grow tight.

Then, she dropped her hand from her legs and stared at herself in the mirror. She leaned forward and gripped the edge of the countertop. She pursed her lips and cocked her head to the side. Her eyebrow quipped as if she was thinking and suddenly, with a smirk playing on her lips, she called for him. “Babeeeee!”

He jolted and then tossed the water and snacks on the bed before shuffling to the bathroom. “Yes, love?” He gave the door a testing push and she ushered him in. Lewis stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her bare body, buttery brown and tantalizing. Addicting. He pressed his lips against her neck and she smiled at his affection. “What’s up?”

“Are you sleepy?” She asked lowly. She looked at their reflection, basking in the beauty of their appearance. The beautiful shades of brown and array of kinks and coils were her favorite things to look at.

Lewis raised an eyebrow, confused by her questions. “No, baby. Are you?” She shook her head. Then, with her eyes on his through the mirror, she took his hand, slid it down the plane of her body, and placed it right between her legs. “Touch me then.”

“Baby…”

She tsk’d softly. “You had a show earlier. Might as well act on it right?” Lewis’ breath hitched. Oops. Caught red-handed. She smiled innocently and batted her eyelashes. “Right?”

Lewis tongue ran over the front of his teeth. He dropped his hands from her waist and smacked her bottom lightly. “On the bed.” She giggled and walked out the bathroom and laid on the bed like an angel in the all-white covers.

“Ready for me?” she teased, raising on her forearms. Lewis crawled between her legs and cupped her neck, bringing his lips to hers. “Always.”

—————————————————————————————

aj’s control center 🚀: y’all this took forever and idek why cause I didn’t even do too much with it, but it’s done now! I had to take a little break cause ya girl has an internship and a job at the same time, so I wasn’t as focused on writing. but anyway, I hope you enjoyed! 💚

#SoundCloud #saturnville #black!reader #black reader #original writing #original content #lewis hamilton x oc #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton x black fem oc #lewis hamilton x black!oc #sir lewis hamilton x black!reader #sir lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x black reader #lewis hamilton x black!reader

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beckyninja · 10 days ago

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The Assault

Pairing: Salamander oc x FemReader

Warnings: It's Nurgle. Things get... icky.

Description: Nev'ran fights to save his Diamond, while she struggles to maintain her sanity.

The rescue mission is ON, people! But will it succeed? (Check out the previous chapters of this story on my Masterlist.)

Lili raced through the warren of stone tunnels. Tears streamed from her wide eyes. Her palms and knees stung from when she’d fallen into the hallway beyond the vox center, shoved hard from behind.

“Run, Lili! Get help!”

A choked sob burst from her trembling lips as she remembered the Lady’s last desperate command as the door to the room gave way, crushing the transmitter, and loosing horrors upon them. Things that might have been human once. Things that had come for her that afternoon as she left the Lady’s quarters, dragging her down to the Governor’s laboratory.

Emperor have mercy, I recognized their faces!

What was left of them.

More tears and sobs. Her vision blurred, yet she never hesitated. She’d known nothing but these stone tunnels since her birth on this accursed colony world. If she could make it to the miners’ tenements, if she could find her family-

Screams echoed through the passages in front of her.

She skidded to a halt, panting, listening. She heard the tramp of metal boots, crashes like doors being kicked in, the shouts and wails of men, women, and children.

The Governor’s servitors are rounding up the miners!

The abductions had been going on for years. A worker here, a child there. Lili had spent many a cold night huddled with her father and siblings, listening to the servitors drag victims from their squalid apartments, praying to the Emperor they wouldn’t come to her door.

She wept for her family, her friends. But, as the tramp of boots approached, she knew she could not help them.

Only one thing could help any of them now.

Spinning on her heel, she darted through access tunnels and crawled through vents to reach the great elevator. Frozen metal shrieked as it lifted her toward the surface. She’d never seen the surface. Her father had told warning tales of an icy desolation, deadly to anyone who tried to escape.

When the roof opened onto swirling white emptiness, Lili couldn’t contain a shriek of utter shock. She’d thought she’d known cold in the depths.

Ice like knives lacerated her bare feet in seconds as she stumbled from the platform. Red streaked the white, powdery substance all around her, the only splash of color to be seen. Her muscles gave way under the onslaught of howling wind.

I am going to die. Tears froze on her cheeks. Forgive me, Lady. I tried.

Then, a roar greater than even the wind. Lifting her eyes to the emptiness above, Lili watched a monster of metal and fire descend. Steam billowed around it as it landed mere yards away.

And from that steam, emerged dragons.

***

Nev’ran’s body vibrated within his armor. He couldn’t remember the last time the rush of impending battle had hit him with such ferocity! Fire raced through his veins and tinted his vision.

The beast within clawed to be set free.

I am coming, Diamond.

All three of his lungs expanded and contracted in rapid succession. Beside him, he vaguely registered the presence of four brother Salamanders in the Thunderhawk. They were the vanguard, sent to determine the severity of the chaos incursion while the Captain readied a more substantial force.

Normally, an Apothecary would not be present in the first wave. But Captain Xavus hadn’t tried to stop him.

It would have been futile.

Nev’ran leapt from the Thunderhawk before the ramp had even fully opened. Snow hissed and steamed all around him. He flexed his gauntlets around his heavy flamer, felt the chainsword at his waist.

“Wait, master!” Hur’reth landed beside him with a boom of ceramite against metal.

He didn’t respond.

His fellow Apothecary laid a hand upon his pauldron. “We cannot rush in blind.”

He ground his teeth.

The other Salamanders formed up beside the pair, led by the Lieutenant. “What little intelligence we possess on this colony suggests the entrance to be-”

A green flicker appeared on Hur’reth’s auspex. “Life sign! Close!”

Nev’ran glanced at the screen, then charged forward. A crumpled figure appeared beyond the cloud of steam surrounding the Thunderhawk.

Diamond?

Ceramite groaned as he lunged toward the pale form, only to be met with disappointment. The girl, barely more than a child, lay shivering amidst the snow, her clothing woefully inadequate.

For a brief moment, the dragon within urged him to ignore her, to continue searching for his mate-

By Vulkan, no!

He shoved the madness, the obsessive drive, down deep, though it tore at his hearts to do so. He scooped the girl into one arm and returned to the Thunderhawk.

“This one requires warmth, quickly!” His voice was a hoarse growl.

Hold on, my love. Just a little longer.

***

The stench awoke you. It forced its way into your nose, your mouth, past your clenched teeth. You could taste it. Bile rose in your throat.

And yet, you refused to open your eyes.

Don’t look. Don’t see. Don’t think!

Don’t think about the monsters whose slimy, gnarled claws had gripped you, lifted you, carried you into darkness. Don’t think about their ravaged faces. Their slavering maws. The slime that oozed from every orifice and stained your skin with its vile-

Something writhed beneath you.

A shriek of sheer disgust ripped from your throat as you lurched upward. Your eyes opened involuntarily.

Sickly, green light gleamed from fungal growths on the walls, floor, and low ceiling of your stone cell. Twisted mockeries of flowering vines wriggled like worms across the floor, ragged blooms dripping with fluid. You shuddered as you realized you’d been laying atop them. Gasping the foul air, you stumbled away, only to feel solid bars against your back. You turned to search for a door…

… and came face to face with a half-rotted human face.

Maggots fell from empty eye sockets and writhed beneath shredded skin. A single, swollen hand reached toward you.

It wasn’t alone. A dozen barely human things stood outside your prison, bathed in the green glow. They swayed and moaned through hanging jaws.

Sobbing with horror, you reeled back into the vines. They struck. Before you could think to struggle they’d cocooned your body in their reeking embrace.

Oh Throne, let this be a nightmare. I must wake up. Wake up, wake up, wake up!

You screamed.

“Back now, my children.”

You knew that voice. The screams died in your throat.

A tall, skeletal figure pushed through the crowd of corpses. You watched him move them aside with almost affectionate caresses, a benevolent smile upon his wasted face. Sunken eyes came to rest upon you.

Within your vine-cocoon, you trembled.

“You must not over-exert yourself, my bride.” Governor Ledyanoy crooned. “It upsets my pets, and our children.” He patted one of the corpses shoulders, seeming not to notice when its arm dropped away with a wet plop.

You gathered what scraps of courage you had left. “Let me go!”

The Governor shook his head and spoke as if to a dull child. “Now, now. I understand you’re upset. I was too when my grandfather first brought me here as a boy. How I struggled!” He giggled. “But soon I welcomed the Grandfather’s embrace.”

“Heretic!” You twisted against the vines, but they held fast.

A sad, slow shake of his head. “The others said the same. I tried to show them the glorious truth, but they were simply too weak. You, however,” his eyes gleamed, “you are strong!”

Producing a key from within his stained robes, he unlocked the cell door and stepped through. The vines squelched around his ankles. With a crook of his finger, you felt your cocoon slide forward until his face nearly pressed against yours.

A single finger trailed down your cheek, the feeling of his icy skin somehow worse than the wet slime of the vines.

“Yes, strong.” He whispered. “Through you, the promise whispered to my grandfather in his dreams will be fulfilled. In but a few hours this sterile world will teem with life!”

Desperate fury burned through you. “Emperor curse you! May his Angels’ fire scorch whatever remains of your soul!”

Turning your head, you bit down on the finger and felt bone crack beneath your teeth. But the Governor only laughed.

“I know about the message you sent, my spirited bride.” He pulled his hand away, smiling at the broken digit. “I should thank you. The Marines will make such lovely additions to our family.”

His face twisted with deluded glee. “And, I must share the exciting news! As reward for my devotion, the Grandfather has sent beings of his blessed Garden to dwell amongst us!”

You didn’t fully understand, yet a dread more sickening than the desecration before you filled your soul.

God Emperor, protect them. Protect him!

***

“BURN, FOUL CREATURES! BURN!”

The flamer in Nev’ran’s hands roared like the beasts of Nocturne. With each shambling corpse turned to ash beneath its fire, he felt the rush in his veins intensify. The gentle Apothecary stepped aside for a snarling manifestation of the Emperor’s wrath.

Other flames lit the darkness. He sensed Hur’reth at his side, more battle brothers to the rear. The narrowness of the passageways made moving in a united line impossible. But Nev’ran found he didn’t care.

Tactics meant nothing. Strategy meant nothing.

These abominations stood between him and his Diamond.

He bellowed a wordless challenge and thundered on.

They’d revived the girl on the surface enough for her to tell them of the horrors afflicting this world. She’d wept as she described being forced to abandon the Lady she’d come to love. She’d told them of the secret laboratory, deep within the heart of the underground city. She’d pleaded with them to save the remaining colonists.

The compassionate side of Nev’ran regretted that they would not be able to fulfill the child’s wish. Even as he seared the walking corpses, he recognized fragments of miners’ uniforms still clinging to their violated bodies.

The little ones were the worst.

Shutting his mind to the horror, he embraced the dragon within. He stalked forward. Charred flesh crunched. Smoke billowed.

Beside him, Hur’reth’s flamer flared, incinerating something that might once have been a woman.

“According to the girl, the laboratory is down this way.” His former apprentice gestured to a side opening.

“The heart of the rot.” Nev’ran growled.

Where the cursed heretic had taken his Diamond.

The girl had described the place in halting, gasping whispers. A great cavern like an abscess in the stone. Masses of glowing fungus. Slime-covered vines. Iron-barred cells. A ring of pulsating, oozing symbols surrounding a stained stone slab.

“Th-th-things came from inside the r-r-ring. Worse than the c-c-corpses. H-h-horrible d-d-d-de-de….”

She’d broken down into a shaking, sobbing mess, then. They’d left her in the care of the pilots.

Nev’ran had seen enough cultist lairs in his long life to imagine what had shattered the poor child’s nerve. His mind filled with images of you strapped upon a stone altar, writhing in agony as unholy chants arose around you.

“NO!”

He shouldered past Hur’reth and charged down the passage.

Chaos will not claim you. Be strong, Diamond. Your dragon comes!

He charged on, ignoring his brother’s shouts behind him. His boots cracked the stone. Sparks flew whenever his pauldrons skidded across the walls. Walking corpses rose before him, but he no longer bothered igniting his flamer, simply trampling them beneath his feet.

He was righteous fury. He was the avenger of the innocent. He was-

A groaning, gurgling howl rose out of the darkness before him. Nev’ran found himself surrounded by a swarm of flies so thick they blocked his vision. A pulse of his flamer scattered the insects and, for a heartbeat, his mind reeled with the utter wrongness of the entities lurching toward him out of the shadows.

A dozen cloudy, single eyes rolled toward him. Pustulent tongues lolled out of gaping maws. Vaguely humanoid forms so swollen with decay they looked on the verge of bursting brandished rusted cleavers.

Plaguebearers.

Shifting his flamer to one hand, Nev'ran lifted and revved his chainsword.

“Unto the fires of battle.” Within his helmet, he bared his teeth in a feral grin. “Unto the anvil of war.”

He pointed his chainsword at the daemons. “You will not keep me from MY MATE.”

And, in a hell of rot miles beneath the surface of a dead world, a woman prayed in desperation, and a dragon did battle for her.

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#warhammer 40k #space marine #space marine x reader #salamander #salamander x reader #there's just something about half-crazed and desperate men

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