#he thought he was going to be pathetic. he thought he’d be lucky to leave the situation without a concussion

[letsplaythermalnuclearwar]

ok but can we talk how in Legendary, Antinous asked a question. he’s being as rude as possible but “when’s your tramp of a mother going to chose a new husband” is a question. a question that Telemachus does not want to answer. and yeah, the immediate follow up of “why don’t you open her room so we can have fun with her” makes it seem rhetorical, but rhetorical or not, it’s definitely a question. and I’ve always wondered why Telemachus is offended by ‘tramp’ when the ‘why don’t you open her room’ thing is a million times worse. 

But what if Telemachus wasn’t offended that Antinous called Penelope a tramp? The suitors have probably been saying stuff like that for ten years, he’s used to it. What if, more than anything else, Telemachus wanted to make them forget about the question they asked? What if he was just trying to distract them?

[enviedear]

LOVING ALONE IS WHAT YOU MAKE IT

₊ ⊹ JASON TODD

🧸ྀི REQUEST | jason having (what he thinks is) an unrequited crush

CW | lovesick!jason with issues accepting love, just-a-buncha fluff. 1.6k words. 🎧ྀི

your eyes flicker to your window for the hundredth time in ten minutes. there's an attempt at forcing your gaze back to your book, but your concentration on it has long since shattered. it's impossible to concentrate on anything other than him, perched on your fire escape right outside your window—JASON TODD.

he thinks he’s so subtle, as if you'll never notice when he parks himself on your fire escape like some sort of gargoyle. you smile slightly at the thought, heart pounding a little faster than it should. a condition that makes itself apparent far too much when your mind drifts to him.

he's silently taken on a sort of sworn protector role, separate from his nightly redhood rendezvous. you count yourself lucky to have his presence around your domicile so often. you truly never got over the culture shock that was gotham, but jason helps. even if he decides to go to great lengths to try and hide it.

outside, in the frigid and everpresent putrid gotham air, jason todd sits in complete rumination. he has goosebumps marring his arms beneath his leather jacket, but he pays them no mind. no, he's far too busy listing all the reasons he should just leave, why sitting outside under the guise of guard is utterly stupid, but still, he sits.

he runs a gloved hand through his hair, tugging slightly. he feels pathetic. how can he meet death, the criminally insane, survive things that would kill most—and somehow, he's shocked still with nerves at the very idea of knocking on your window.

in his head he has it all pictured, if it went perfectly. you'd come to the window, a confused look on your face until you spot him. he'd pull some stupid line, something he heard dick use once, and it'd make you laugh. he loves hearing that, more than anything. then he'd crawl in—spend the rest of his night with you, doing anything. and in his head, that's perfect.

but the underbelly of that dream keeps him rooted to your fire escape. to him, there's no way you could ever share his sentiments. you refer to him as a friend and no matter how much he wishes for something else, he can't change reality. can't force himself to make something more out of what you give him.

between the blood on his hands and the rage he can never seem to fully rid himself of, he's come to the aimless conclusion that you deserve someone better. someone more delicate, someone who doesn’t live with one foot in the grave. but every time you laugh or shoot him an easy smile, it gets easier to admit that he’s too far gone.

you deign the separation foolish, but still, you give yourself one more attempt at reading before you put your book to the side. really—you just wish he’d just say something. you’ve thought about saying something yourself, more times than you care to admit, but the timing never feels right. besides, there’s a part of you that wonders if jason even realizes you’ve been waiting out for him.

every time you joke or tease, you can see some struggle behind his eyes. as if he wants to let go and laugh with you, but something—himself—holds him back. your very own sisyphus—his very own boulder to carry up a labyrinthine mountain.

maybe it’s his past and the walls he’s built around himself, but you’re over him expecting you to be afraid of him. you wonder how much more evident you need to be. if anything, you wish he could see himself the way you do—intense, yes, but also loyal and good, even if he doesn’t believe it.

he proves it every night when he stands watch outside your shitty apartment.

with a sigh, you stand up from the couch, moving toward the window. he’s always so close, and yet there’s a distance he keeps in place—you’ve had enough of that.

you slide the window open, leaning out just enough to catch him mid-step as he’s about to leave—flee moreso. “going somewhere?”

he turns on his heels, red helmet in his hands, "figured you'd be asleep."

you hum, eyes narrowing, "already? it's six pm on a saturday."

“just didn’t want to bother you.” he admits, voice low, almost timid. he doesn’t meet your eyes, and it’s frustrating how hard he tries to hide, even from you.

“you’re not bothering me, jason.” you say softly, leaning on the window frame. “you never do.”

jason looks at you then, something uncertain flickering in his gaze. his lips dart out to quell his chapped lips—you hold his stare, hoping he can see what you’re trying to tell him, wordlessly.

that you want him here, that you’ve been wanting him all along.

“i can stop by for a few.” he finally says, adding a shrug to the end of his sentence.

you smile, opening the window fully as invitation. jason crawls in, a rather innocuous task but given his stature, always surprises you.

“i have pizza and brownies. saturday special.” you tell him, a persuasion. you want him to eat.

“sounds good.” he’s in the middle of slipping out of his redhood garb, clad in a skintight athletic tee and his cargos—mask sitting on your coffee table. “i’m gonna change in the bathroom, i’ll be right back.”

before his fingers can grab his duffle you start, “why don’t you shower here? i know you don’t have any of your usual stuff but—”

he cuts you off, “i couldn’t. i’m already eating your food…and using your fire escape as a landing spot.”

“jason, seriously. shower here. i’ll heat up the food and put on some tv. it’s a saturday.” you’re not one to beg, but this is treading the line.

his shoulders sag, but there’s a small smile on his face, “thanks, sweetheart. you’re too nice to me.”

his tone is sarcastic, self-deprecating, and that annoys you slightly. you want him to know that he’s welcome here, wanted. needed.

“i like it when you’re here, you know.” you feel like sparking a match, timid flames sparkling. “i miss you when you’re gone and everything.”

he quirks a brow, "what are you tryin' tell me?"

you feel silly at his question, the air around you seemingly buzzing. jason peers down at you with a raised brow, as if he's genuinely confused by the sentiment. as if he's baffled by the notion he could be someone to miss.

your breath hitches as you debate your next move. you're walking a thin line between saying too much and not enough. you could play it safe, keep your cards close to your chest—or you could be honest. near painfully so.

when you find your voice, it comes out soft, "i'm trying to say that i like it better when you come inside instead of sitting on my fire escape. i don't want to be a landing spot for you, i want... more."

he clears his throat, shifting on his feet, "you don't want that." he seems to take a step back, not physically, but mentally. his face goes still, chest breathing even, mind anywhere but the present.

you groan, annoyance evident, "i do though. you have to see that in some way by now." you step towards him, "sometimes i think you feel the same way."

jason’s gaze flickers toward the floor, and for a moment you wonder if you’ve crossed the line, if he’ll pull away entirely. but then he looks up, eyes darker, severely sincere. “you have no idea what you’re asking for.” he cautions, but his voice is lower, almost a whisper.

you smile softly, finally letting your hand touch his arm, feeling the solid warmth beneath. “maybe i do. maybe i’ve been waiting for you to realize it.”

“don’t say that unless you mean it,” he murmurs, his voice rough.

“i mean it.” you reply, sincere in your admission. “i’m not afraid of you, jason. i’m afraid of what happens if you keep shutting me out.”

he grumbles at that, a half-willed attempt to argue against your point. you stay quiet, urging him to continue where you left off. you watch his face contort through a realm of emotions—confusion, fear, and then, thinly masked and wistful poignancy.

“i’m not shutting you out. if anything, i’m protecting you.” he finally decides, arms crossing over his chest, eyes scanning the wall behind you. nervous.

you shake your head, fingers reaching for his twisted expression, finding home on his pink-tinted cheeks. “i don’t need you protecting me from you. i need you to want me as bad as i want you.”

your words are bold, maybe overconfident, but you mean them to the fullest extent. you’re so beyond exhausted of attempting to disregard or conceal your feelings. even if jason’s not, you think he deserves to know.

jason todd looks you over. his eyes raking you up and down like you’re some high valued product—and he’s unsure wether to take the bid or let it pass by. in the time you’ve known him, even in the thralls of his vigilante persona, he’s studied things. eyes pointedly and silently assessing his situation, no matter how far removed he is from his upbringing—his “father” lingers in his antics.

finally, he chuckles, low and more timid than usual, “you don’t know how badly i want you, sweetheart. but…” he stops himself, and you’re grateful because you would have done it yourself if he had continued on with some rebuttal. “fuck. you’re all i want.”

it comes out like a beg, pleading that rarely works it’s way onto his features. you smile, and pull him closer. his arms uncross, opting to gingerly hold your shoulders. still timid, unsure.

“you should know how much you mean to me. you do such a good job of showing me…keeping watch and never letting me eat alone. it’s sweet, you’re sweet. i want you to know it.” you keep his gaze when you speak, hopefully drilling each sentiment permanently into his consciousness.

he leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut, “i believe you. swear. i just… this is new. i never thought…” he falters off, equal parts unsure and dumbstruck. “i like you a lot. i didn’t know you felt the same, sweetheart.”

you grin, inching your face closer to his, “well i do. deal with it.” your tone is teasing, playful. pulling him back into the safety of reassurance—what you want him to anticipate from you.

it seems to put jason back in his element, “oh? you have demands? usually that’s my thing.”

you laugh, “could always be our thing. the demanding couple—sounds inspired, don’t you think?”

“something like that…” his smile is soft, “but for now, i think i’m fine with just being yours.” he says it so earnestly, no thought to it. just the truth, and it feels damn good. it envelops you just the same as his arms, wraps you up in utter victory. love hard fought—and it feels so sweet.

[angel-sweets666]

Bakugos first time getting head

AGED UP!! Katsuki bakugo x fem! Reader

warnings: smut,, jerking off, blowjob. Sort of a extension to hallway crush

AGED UP im talking like last year of UA 18 years old sort of aged up

A/N I realised people don’t really know me, so to make it easier my names angel and I go by she/her, I never really introduced myself, also this banner😍

sorry for disappearing I’m back now and I think the smut is kinda rushed sorry 😭😭😭

Katsuki never thought of loosing his virginity often, it never crossed his mind on a daily basis. He wasn’t like his idiot “friends” Denki, sero and kirishima who all had either lost their virginity or were planning on it, especially Denki when he would yap into katsukis ear about finding the perfect girl to plow into which often lead to bakugo getting up and leaving mid conversation.

but then there was you, you flicked a switch in his brain like no girl did before. Sure he had a huge crush on you like he’s never had a crush on a girl before, but he also had a lust for you. Katsuki would sit in class and stare at you from the corner of his eye while imagining bending you over his bed and stuffing you with his seed or thinking about dragging you to the bathrooms and fucking you in a stall ect, all thoughts lead to him asking aizawa to go to the bathroom because he’s got a massive boner he desperately wants to deal with.

And dealing with it would probably be the most pathetic (prettiest) thing ever. Katsuki would sit in the bathroom with his baggy pants and boxers pulled down and his hard sore cock up against the fabric of his shirt, poor boy would spit into his hand and stroke the length of it with a grumble and after a while he’d get desperate and just start fucking his fist, bucking his hips into his hand all while imagining it was you balls deep on his cock. You would be so pretty bouncing on his dick in the school toilets while he held your hips and buried his face in your tits with a grunt and if your lucky a whine.

but bakugo couldn’t just fuck you, not just randomly. You wouldn’t allow that, you have more pride than that.

So when you two started talking then started talking he was beyond happy, though he wouldn’t show it behind his usually stoic and aggressive personality.

One day you two were sitting together at the back of class, both of you bored out of your minds! Katsukis eyes wonder from the board to you.he admired how pretty you were from head to toe, his eyes lingered around your thighs… your soft pretty thighs… the blonde bit his lip before trying to distract himself.

not now not now not now.

The blonde looked back down at your thighs before looking up at your face, only to see you looking back at him “what are you looking at?” You giggled, teasing him a bit “hah? I can look at you if I wanna look at you” he grumbled and turned his attention back to the board “righttt…nice hard on by the way” you teased him again as you pulled at a lock of his ash blonde hair. Katsuki looked down to find himself beginning to get a boner “shit…” he whispered and raised his hand “oi can I go to the toilet?”

You watched katsuki get up and leave in a hurry, slamming the door shut behind him. You giggled with amusement, you’d never think you’d have that sort of reaction out of him, you two never did anything sexual as of right now, you didn’t think he had a interest in it. But from that moment you realised maybe he did and just didn’t wanna tell you. You gave it a couple minutes before raising your hand too

“Mr. Aizawa, can I go to the toilet? Lady problems,” you said with a grin, knowing full well he suspected what you were really up to. The exhausted man barely glanced up from his desk, his eyes half-lidded with fatigue. “I don’t care…” he muttered, waving you off dismissively.

You walked down the hallway, the silence broken only by the rhythmic clicking of your shoes against the polished floor. As you neared the boys' toilets, you paused and knocked lightly on the wall before calling out, “Katsuki? You in here?” . After a brief silence, you heard a response. “Y-yeah! I’m… ah- I’m okay. Piss off!” Katsuki shouted back, his voice strained, you could hear slight panting. “Am I interrupting something?” You cooed, trying to tease him “hmmph.., yes! Go away!” He again yelled out “oooookayyy…”

you stood by the door as if you knew what was gonna happen

“you still there?” He grumbled out to you “yep” you called back out “you were jerking off huh?” You giggled “shut the fuck up!” “It’s alright it’s normal!” he mumbled in response. After a while in silence you decided to tease him more “so did you cum?” “What the fuck?” You laughed in response, riskily walking into the boys bathroom. “Do you want some help..?” You asked him, the silence was loud.

and that’s how you found yourself on your knees infront of him in the stall while he pushed your head down on his dick “fuck.. that feels good…” he grumbled and pushed you felt the tip of his dick slide deeper down into your throat, you gagged a little due to his huge size. Bakugo felt a bit panicked as it was his first time even getting his first time getting head “shit too far? Am I hurting you?” He asked as he pulled your head off his cock with a loud pop “n-nope” you said as a bit of drool fell down your chin, a dopey grin on your face,

before you knew it katsuki was pushing your head down on his hard cock again “Mmmm.. good girl…” he pet your hair as he pulled at your hair to push you up and down on him. Just as kirishima said he should. The slow pleasure began to build up into frustration, bakugo held your head up as he began to fuck into your face

“A-ah fuck! Don’t get caught don’t get caught… mmmmph…. Such a good girl..”

all while you gagged as tears built up into your eyes, he was much bigger then you thought and you could barely breath with the cock in your mouth. katsuki pushed his whole shaft into your mouth and crossed the line, painting your throat white with his hot cum.

“fuuuuuuuuuuuuckkk”

you pulled his softened dick out your mouth with a pop, swallowing the semen left in your mouth. The blonde stared down at you with short breath, panting softly. “Thank you..I’ve never done that.. before..” “it’s alright baby.. first time for everything”

“shut up….”

HAS EVERYONE SEEN THE MHA ENDING? IM SO SAD. GIVE ME THE PEN IM RE WRITING THAT, I DONT WANT MHA TO END

[zriasstuff]

Slytherin boys x reader (kinky shit vol.2)

Warnings: 18+ sexual content, orgasm denial kink (?), not proof read, long lost trashy & horny draft from my wattpad era (a moment of silence for that), cringe, enjoy ?

(not that anyone rlly cares, but i thought I’d at least pull this out since i haven’t posted actual writing in 1,5 weeks, vol.1 in case you’re curious)

Mattheo Riddle:

Mattheo was incredibly skilled with his mouth, knowing just where to flick his tongue and how hard to suck on your clit to make you melt. Shaking and squirming, you’d grab onto his curly hair, and he would hold your thighs over his shoulders and bury his face deep within your sweet cunt. Always licking up every drip coming from your precious cunt and sucking his fingers clean after stretching you out.

Eventually he figured that he could make you even needier by removing himself for a few seconds. In response you would desperately pull his head closer to your cunt and whine him “don’t you dare fucking stop now”, but he’d just tease your entrance by slowly licking stripes, so you wouldn’t be able to reach your climax.

It was torture, yet you have to admit he made it worth it. “Please Matty keep going”, you’d plea, “plea- please just pleasee”, you’d just repeat that as often as you could, but he enjoyed seeing you on edge.

Tom Riddle:

It’s his favorite form of punishing you for when you act bratty towards him, or when he’s in an angry mood in general, which is quite frequently. His practice of orgasm denial involves painstakingly long teasing until your cunt is all worn out and until you basically can’t think properly anymore. All your thoughts just revolve around one thing, riding out your orgasm completely without feeling as if something was being ripped away from you instead. Tom always fucks you first, pulling out just when you’re about to cum. Instead he releases himself all over your thighs, and leaves you to your own devices. The more needy you become, the longer he’ll torture you to see your breaking point. He has a dildo his size, which he’ll fuck you with, always pulling out just when you’re about to cum. It was an endless circle, even bringing out tears in you because it’s too unbearable and you just desperately want to experience that intensive orgasm. Usually he doesn’t let you have it though. Because of that you become unbelievably horny during the next few days, wanting Tom to use you and fuck you in any sort of way, but of course he’d rather watch you squirm and whine under him. “Should’ve thought twice before being a brat”/“Only good girls derserve to cum”/“You look so pathetic, begging for my cock”

Theodore Nott:

Instead of the popular silent treatment you gave to Theo sometimes when you were mad, you also enjoyed seeing him all fidgety and out of control. “Please don’t do this”, he’d beg, but it would all be in vain. Once you decided to bounce up and down on his swollen cock, he couldn’t keep it together anymore. You didn’t allow him to grab your tits, nor to cum. Once you rode his cock long enough to get you close, you got off of him and fingered yourself in front of him until you made a mess of the sheets. His cock would just leak precum from watching you get off, but he was gonna try to not disobey you. He wasn’t allowed to cum until you gave him explicit permission. After you rode him, he was most likely a swearing mess, desperate to touch his own cock and replicate what you do to him. “That’s what you get for making me mad”, you’d tell him and he’d apologize about a thousand times. Sometimes, out of pity, you then satisfy him by allowing him to touch himself, but other times he wouldn’t be so lucky and had to wait until the next day possibly. “I swear I’ll never do it again”, he whines or “Please I’ll do anything”

Blaise Zabini:

He knows that you enjoy your orgasms way more when they’ve been delayed because then they’re just so much more intensive that way. So, when you do it, he obviously wants to make you feel good, even if that means making you feel incredibly bad, even if it’s in a good way, for a moment. His cock was big by all means, it stretched you out perfectly and fit you just right. So after he comes inside you, he makes you cockwarm him instead of pulling out completely. This way he’ll watch you struggle to not roll your hips because if you did you’d try to get him to hit your g-spot. Then, all of a sudden, he’d grab your waist, make you straddle him, and control your body movements with his hands on your waist. Blaise will pull down, and thrust into you from under you. You can’t help but let out a series of cries because Blaise pounded so deep into you that you were sure you’re insides would never recover. Although he’s lying down, he’s still the one in control, so any pleasure you get is decided by him. “Not yet babe”/“Hold on a little longer ok” As you finally get to have your orgasm, it’s the most intense yet satisfying feeling in the world.

Enzo Berkshire:

Broken was the only word to describe Enzo when he was suffering from not being able to cum due to having a cock ring on. You used it for punishing him sometimes, for unintentionally flirting with other girls, but also just for fun and to spice up your bedroom activities. It vibrated his inflated cock, but also restricted it from shooting out his sweet release. The entire room would be filled with Enzo’s variations of noises, begging and whines. “How much longer”, he keeps asking while making filthy sounds and “I can’t keep it in anymore please” he’d always plea. Enzo would also always come close to tears, though he definitely enjoyed the sinful mix of pleasure and pain too. There were also several intensity settings on the useful cock ring and any time he’d swear, you put it higher. He was entirely under your control, and anything he did would result in his cock just suffering longer from the prolonged torture. You watched him squirm in his bed, completely naked, and even humping the bed at times to get some sort of friction, but that never ended well as you would set the vibrations even higher. His cock was so close to coming, yet only measly drops of precum came out. It was truly a sight.

Draco Malfoy:

Combined with public factors, orgasm denial is your favorite way of watching your boyfriend struggle to keep it together. Otherwise everyone would find out what an obedient boy he was for you, totally unlike the usual bad boy persona he puts on. When all your friends hang out around the common room couch, near the fireplace, a blanket always covers you two. It’s normal, since everyone shares a blanket with either a friend or partner. The twist comes when you slyly slide your hands all the way down to his crotch and rub him through his pyjama pants first. Draco always inhales sharply, knowing he’ll have to be on his best behavior. He shifts all the time, trying to secretly hump himself on the palm of your hand, acting like a stupid fuck toy. So, to tell him to cut it out, you lightly squeeze his length, sending him a warning sign. He should remember that you were the one in control. When you decide he deserves it, you start massaging his cock, pumping it ever so slowly and circling your thumb over his crown. As soon as you hear the grunts, signaling that he can’t keep it in any longer, you slide your hands out of his pants again and act as you were. Draco’s own pleasure had to wait until you were in private, until then he’d quietly whine “Please let me cum, pleasee”/“I swear I’ll do anything you want”

[ilovejoostklein]

can I requestt some soft morning sex with Joost and it being just rlly sweet and cosy and like reade and joost have been together for a while now and some praise maybe if you're comfortable w that ofc 🥹

this was really fun to write, i hope you get the cozy vibe <3

-

Morning Embrace

You and Joost have been together for years and have an intimate morning routine

nsfw: smut, some fluff

-

You always hated when Joost had to leave, looking up at him through a half-lidded gaze your mind tended to wander to things that made you feel bad in this moment, as if it was a way to mend your sadness. 

He held your hands as you felt his cock resting on your lower stomach, teasing you, looking up at his face you saw how tired, yet desperate he was. It was like a dream, the weight of sleep making you lazy, your motions slow and fluid, but everything felt so much more intense. 

The sunlight made the room and Joost looks heavenly. You’d been in love with him for what felt like a lifetime. Joost was an angelic man, his features as if they were carved by Renaissance artists, the most beautiful and dedicated expression of the human form. You could look up at him forever, and when he was like this especially. His flushed cheeks, and parted red lips showered you with so much praise it felt poetic.

He’d repeat over and over again how perfect you were. You always laughed it off when his friends said you had him on a leash, but moments like these proved to you that he loved and cherished you to a level you could hardly fathom. As he pushed himself inside of you, his face contorted into pleasure, crying out how much he loved you, how good you felt, how good you made him feel. 

“I love you so much,” His voice was pathetic, kissing your neck desperately as he tried to find a good pace that wouldn’t be affected by his lack of energy. “You’re so fucking perfect, I’d die for you—fuck.”

“I love you, Joost.” You responded with a yawn, the sensation so perfect it relaxed you. 

You wrapped your legs around him, feeling the warm, heavy comforter weighing you down. He slept naked so he was always cold, and fucked you with the blanket over his waist. He couldn’t ever take you from behind or any other position besides missionary unless he was drunk or just had an inclination to be rougher, which was rare. His obsession with you was bordering unhealthy. He couldn’t get off unless he could see your face, he’d never loved anyone the way he loved you. 

“You’re so beautiful, mijn liefde.” He moved the hair out of your face lovingly, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I could fuck you forever.” He whispered into your ear. 

You smiled in response, “Me too.” You kissed his cheek back in return. “Love you.” 

Joost never overwhelmed you, he never pushed you beyond your limits. Even if he knew your body like the back of his hand, knowing exactly how to make a mess of you, he was incredibly gentle. Making love to him in the morning was better than anything you’d ever experienced, the feeling of waking up next to the person you loved and being able to feel so good all the time was indescribable. You pitied people who weren’t so lucky. 

Joost knew you too well, the sounds you made were controlled and soft he wasn’t fucking you as well as he could. You felt him readjust slightly, the realization making your cheeks burn and waking you up a bit. You felt him plunge into you with one quick, deep motion slamming into the most sensitive spot inside of you. You had gotten your karma for thinking he sounded pathetic, crying out in pleasure and begging for him to keep going. 

“Please, Joost.” You pleaded, unable to open your eyes from how overwhelmed you’d become “Feels so good.”

You heard him laugh, satisfied with how your body had sure denied himself to him. The look on your face was driving him mad, his pace deepened and became harsher. The feeling made you lose all train of thought, your body becoming a vessel to feel pleasure alone, shutting your eyes to take it all in. It sends a numbing feeling through you, you could do nothing but moan his name to encourage him. 

“Can I stop?” He asked suddenly, the sight of your blissful expression and the way your chest moved had driven him to the point of insanity. 

“What?” He’d never seen you look so confused and offended, it was cute. “No, please,” You thought he would leave you early, the realization crushing you. 

“I need to eat your pussy.” His directness made you hesitate for a moment, but god it was flattering. 

Joost felt his pleasure and excitement burn out once he realized he’d be getting off before you. It was difficult to make you finish by just fucking you alone, especially if he knew your body was as tired and sensitive as it was now. Besides, there was nothing he loved more than going down on you. 

He pulled out slowly, going under the covers he pushed your legs open and didn’t waste any time with foreplay. He was greedy and impatient, he hardly bothered with kissing your thighs and your stomach. As much as he liked to tease you, it was always more torturous for him. He couldn’t stand to deny himself, and he knew you could go without it. 

His tongue was so warm against you. You shivered at the initial feeling, the beginning is always just as good as the end. You let him spread your legs so that your knees nearly touched your chest. His tongue was flat against your pussy, completely devouring you as he focused on your clit determined to help bring you to your climax, instead of making you beg for it. All this time spent apart, you’d forgotten how passionate your boyfriend was. 

You felt selfish. Joost was perfect, you didn’t remember a time when he couldn’t make you finish, but even more selflessly you didn’t remember a time when he wanted to finish before you. Somehow it would spoil his mood if he didn’t take care of you first, even if you begged for him to fuck you or to let you give him head, he refused.

You felt yourself grinding down desperately on Joost’s face. You were chasing your orgasm in vain, trying to rush the natural process it only made you increasingly frustrated and needy. Joost noticed quickly, as always he knew you too well, and he hated to feel like he wasn’t giving you enough. 

“You wanna cum baby?” Joost’s voice was raspy, and still a bit groggy, the sound of it turned you on more than it should’ve. “Tell me, my beautiful girl.”

You hummed, “Mhm.” Just as desperately as he expected.

You heard him chuckle from under the sheets, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh. “I’ll help you, don’t worry mijn lieveling.”

You felt his fingers begin to rub against you, it was like he could read your mind and knew how much you were thinking about him fucking you again. His touch was teasing at first, experimenting with what made you feel good, realizing quickly from the way you tried to move against him, that you just needed to be filled up again. You didn’t realize how wet you were until he pushed two fingers inside of you, from the way you took them so well. 

His soft lips pressed down on your clit as his fingers pumped inside of you at a steady pace, he was giving you exactly what you needed. He loved the sounds you made, how every time his fingers nudged into the most sensitive spot inside you, he heard you moan or curse under your breath. It didn’t help him that you still sounded so tired, the rasp in your voice and how you lazily and gently tugged his hair. 

When he felt your grip on his hair suddenly tighten, and you suddenly gasped and then fell silent for a moment he knew you were close. Being together so long, he knew how to make you finish rather quickly if he wanted to. His jaw didn’t have time to start aching like it did in the very beginning when you two were still learning about each other. Whenever he felt like he missed it, the look on your face and the way you’d praise him completely drowned out those memories. 

“You’re so fucking good.” Your voice was so weak it was almost silent, still in a bit of a daze from feeling so sensitive and vulnerable. 

Joost finally sat up, smoothing down his hair and looking down at you. He was overwhelmed with your beauty. As much as he was excited to spend the night with you after his concert and seeing you all dressed up, he couldn’t help but think seeing you naked and glowing in his bed was the most beautiful you could ever look. 

As he positioned himself on top of you again, the way you looked up at him with so much adoration and desire made his heart squeeze. He smoothed down his thumb against your cheek before leaning down to kiss you sweetly as he lined himself up with his other hand. 

You’d never quite gotten used to his size, the stretch was always a bit uncomfortable but Joost was overly cautious. Whenever you needed him this desperately, the way he’d push into you so slowly almost felt cruel. You huffed in frustration, wrapping your legs around him to encourage him to be quicker. 

“Relax.” He urged, leaning down to kiss your cheek. “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“It’s not.” You felt him thrust suddenly, instinctively wincing and proving his point.

Joost tsked, “I told you.” You heard a hint of satisfaction in his tone, “I know you can take it, just stay still my love.”

You sighed in defeat, listening to him you soon felt him bottom you out again, giving you a moment to adjust. He started thrusting slowly, his pace as excruciating as before you couldn’t stand it. 

Joost paused for a moment, leaning down again he lowered his elbows so that he was directly on top of you, chests pressing together. 

“I love you,” He whispered into your ear, pressing a kiss into your chin. “I love fucking you like this.”

“I love you too.” You mumbled so he’d get the affirmation, no matter how long you’d been together he had to hear it. 

“You’re so perfect.” He whispered again, “I can’t believe I have you.”

It was slow, deep, everything perfect about being so desperate to fuck each other the moment you two woke up. He held you in his arms, the sunlight now drowned out the room and warmed your exposed skin. The blanket was still so warm and cozy, keeping you two even closer together. 

You brought him into an embrace as his face was nuzzled in your neck, whispering praises and kissing you. You couldn’t imagine anything better than this. You tried to tell him you loved him for what felt like the hundredth time, but you were too overcome with how good he made you feel. It was as if your bodies were made exactly for one another. 

“I’m close.” Joost mumbled, “Where do you want it, mijn lieveling” You could hear he was just as ruined as you were, the words forcibly coming out.

“Don’t move.” The vague response that he easily understood was the only thing you could get out. 

You appreciated when Joost would tell you if he was close, but you knew him so well that his body language always gave him away. His breaths hitch and deepen, he’d thrust into you at a pace that was erratic, deep, and so loving even if it overwhelmed you it made how much he adored and worshiped you undeniable. Once his movements suddenly stopped and he whined against your neck, teeth sinking gently into the flesh of your shoulder. 

Even if it was messy and later more trouble than it seemed worth when your mind cleared up from lust, you never wanted to deny yourself of this. It brought you closer, knowing you were his, knowing that no one else in the world could make you feel so loved. 

Joost panted against you, pressing lazy kisses against your face as he softened inside of you.  As he dozed off, he couldn’t stop telling you how good you were, how lucky he was and how much he adored you. Still, he needed to take a moment to calm down as he held you close and this was his favorite way to do it. The intimacy you shared was like you were always one, nothing could bring you apart. 

You wished the moment could last forever. Tenderly holding each other, your hand rubbing on his back to soothe him, his thumb caressing your cheek. Your breathing was perfectly in sync, calming each other down from the intensity. All you could hear now were the sweet morning birds and Joost’s heartbeat. 

You couldn’t feel sad, looking back it’s been like this for so long and only was getting better. You saw his eyes had fluttered shut, his breathing settled. You held him closer, you couldn’t be happier knowing that all your mornings could be like this. 

-

doesn’t he look so boyfriend in that picture

[hearts4chriss]

𝑹𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉!𝑫𝒐𝒎 𝑩𝑭!𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 + 𝑺𝒖𝒃!𝑷𝒐𝒄 𝑮𝑭

𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡!𝐃𝐨𝐦 𝐁𝐅!𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐱 𝐒𝐮𝐛!𝐏𝐨𝐜 𝐆𝐅

There’s no doubt this man is ROUGHHH when having sex.

He’s overprotective of you especially when you guys are out and you’re wearing something short and tight.

he hates when you tease, which normally results in him fucking ur brains out.

His favourite thing to do to you when you’ve either, pissed him off, teased him or didn’t do what he asked is edge you.

He gets off watching you beg to cum as he pounding into you with no mercy.

“N-no Chris! Please l-let me cum!”. You’d cry out, already shaking from the previous times he’s edged you.

“Shouldn’t have been acting like a little slut today and you would’ve cum 4 times already”. He groans deep in ur ear continuing to ruin you.

Definitely fucks you in the bathroom at the party and leaves you with cum dripping down your leg.

Leaves you shaking every time, he won’t stop until he feels you either learned ur lesson or he made you feel good.

Loves the sound ur ass makes when he’s fucking you from behind, he’s always touching it, Grabbing it, slapping it all of the above that man loves your ass

Will leave you marked up in hickeys all over ur thighs, tits, inner thighs, as a reminder of whose girl you are incase you forget.

Definitely chokes you while your in missionary / fucking you from behind.

Pulls ur hair but neverrrr where he hurts you

Made sure to establish a safe word

Degrading is his favourite thing, he loves it.

“Fuck- such a little slut, keep making those noises for me yeah?”.

“God ur pathetic, about to cum already?”.

Don’t even get started on dumification.

“Such a dumb whore, fucked out on my cock”.

“Aww look at you, all fucked out from how good I’m making you feel”.

“Wow, I thought you couldn’t get any louder, god you whore”. He’d say this while also trying not to moan because as much he’d never admit it, he loved how you wrapped around him perfectly.

he’d always be quick to remind you who you belong to Like THATS HIS GIRL ( he’s also hella jealous so he’d take you laughing at one of matts jokes, than he’d walk in and thinks your flirting. )

“Your mine right? Or should I call Matt? Seemed to be all over him”.

“can. He. Fuck. Better. Than. Me?”. He’d say all this while thrusting harder in between each word.

“Yeah keep moaning my name baby, let all the neighbours know whose girl you are”.

BIG BREEDING KINK LOVES CUMMING INSIDE YOU

“fuck ma- gonna stuff you with my cum- you’d like that wouldn’t you?”.

“gonna fill your pretty pussy up- shit-“.

The sight of your juices mixed with his could get him off any day

Has a hidden photo album of pictures of you post sex and videos of you screaming his name. Don’t even get me started on the my eyes only.

Loves cockwarming, typically after aftercare he always wants to be close to you.

Despite how rough he is during sex, that man ALWAYS takes care of you after.

Right after you both finish after hell, how many rounds? He’s quick to check on you and sometimes worried he went too far.

“hey baby, you okay? Was it too much?”.

“shh i got you, gonna take care of you now ok?”.

“You did so good for me pretty girl”.

He immediately run you a warm bath with your favourite bath bombs.

He’d clean you up first because he can wait, he’d rather have you feel better than him.

You’re super sensitive after sex so he always takes his time, staring on ur inner thighs first.

“Let me know when it’s too much ok?”.

Despite you secretly loving the rough sex, and you both established that, he would always reassure you.

“Your so pretty yk that?”. He would whisper while helping you in the bath.

“my girl, how’d i get so lucky”.

“Oh and ur definitely not a whore or s-“.

“Chris, baby, I’m okay don’t worry about it”. You’d giggle tiredly playing with the soap.

“I know but ur covered in hickeys like everywhere”. He’d scratch his head.

“Chris please ur back has seen better days”.

He’d go change the sheets to fresh clean ones fresh in the dryer.

Typically you’d want to sleep after so he played those calm noises you like and a glass of water.

right after you dried off with the help of him as you could still barley process what happened, you’d sleep in a shirt of his and a pair of panties.

You’d fall asleep once immediately in the warmth of his arms.

“There you go, sleep well baby”.

tag list ☆

@mattsleftnipple03 @sturniolopowers s @gdsvhtwa @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @worldlxvlys @chrisslut25 @princessbetsy123-blog @mattslolita @guccifrog @blahbel668 @mattsneezing @trickywritters @hearts4chris-deactivated2024040 @nonamegirlxsturniolo @luvmxtt @theyluv-meee @hoesformatt @luv4kozume @kikisturnioloo @itzdarling @pepsiimaxx @babyddolly @iiheartstef @junnniiieee07 @vicsguitarr @ast3ro1dzz @sturniolowhore @st7rnioioss @emma4eva @braindead4l @ihearttsyouu @kqyslyho3 @imaslut4kehlani @sturnsfav @sunsetsturniolos @sturniololoverr @gamermattsgf @lilyloveschris @dlyansworld @chrisloyalgf @soimightlikeoldmen69 @abbie13sworld @ineedchriscock @sturniol0s @chrissgirlsstuff @luhsexcbihh @nickgetsmewetter @rubyjaneaxx @love4chris

[noobsoconfusing]

nasty dog_hamzahthefantastic

gross perv sub hamzah, stalker!hamzah, raging virgin hamzah, dry humping, begging, crying, overstim kinda? weird hamzah pls dont hate

>_<

- if neediness was a person, it would be hamzah.

- if the concept of loser was personified, it would also be hamzah

- now, guess what? if being intense and a virgin at the same time could be shortened to a word, it would, oh! also be hamzah

- maybe it’s the way he’d sneakily steal glances at you from the hallways, or the way he would rush his steps to ride the elevator with you.

- though, you never really noticed his presence. it made him sad. super sad. was he not worth your time? was he not friendly enough? he thought.

- living in the same apartment complex as you made him notice many things… he was very observant! that, or maybe, he did his research just fine

- he quickly picked up on your schedule…

- you were not very social, never leaving your apartment if it was not needed, the only times he’d see you in the stairs or elevator was when you went grocery shopping

- hamzah adores to peak outside to your side of the hall from the peephole on his door

- if he’s lucky enough, he’ll catch you grabbing mail or fixing the welcome mat you have on the floor

- and he was not so discreet about it. his breathing was loud and erratic, and sometimes by the closeness of the apartments, you could hear it behind the wooden door..

- at first, he got nervous. his heart stopped when you’d pause your actions to look around, shrugging as you dismissed the situation

- ugh, it makes him so stupidly horny how clueless you are, how you never notice his long glances and the lewd gross intentions he means w them

- hamzah’s hidden album on his photos app is full of pictures and videos of you :(

- sometimes normal pictures of you entering your apartment or videos of you running up the stairs…

- the thought of you being naive made his heart flutter, it was almost endearing how his imagination could really flow with all the pictures he had taken of you doing mundane stuff ……

- he’s also the type to steal your clothes from the common dryer the apartment complex has down in the basement in the laundry area

- loves the scent of your softener, but actually loves your natural scent even more. he craves your attention and taste and wonders how soft your skin must be, how pretty you look always, how desirable your lips are to him.

- hamzah is pretty much losing common sense each time you wander his mind. or when he sees you around, he loses the ability to act normal.

- now,,, just as he is utterly lovesick, he is also fucking weird and gross

- jerks off with your underwear (the ones he steals from your laundry basket) and absolutely feels no remorse after finishing

- even after he cums a first time, he keeps going on and on until he pretty much can’t get to physically cum anymore :(

- quite literally passes out, shaking and shivering from the stimulation.. thinking of you is enough to make him want to milk his nuts dry #rip

- now, hamzah is loud. yeah, but when he thinks of you while doing it, he gets a tone or two louder. just hoping you’d hear him and magically appear inside his room to help him up :(

“y/n, y/n… please…” his head was thrown back into the pillows, eyes shut and a bead of sweat slid down forehead. “oh my god, y/n, just….yeah, just like that..”

- actually imagines his own hand is yours, it helps him finish, not quicker, but just more intense.

- spills load after load, the puddle of cum adorning his lower tummy and part of the sheets, but somehow he can’t get to stop :c not when his imagination does wonders while thinking of his pretty neighbour, you.

- when he feels like he’s getting too loud, meaning, when his common senses start kicking in, he’d shamelessly just use your previously stolen panties as a gag to muffle his moans.

- unhinged as this man is, he is also the type to clean his cum up with your underwear T_T pathetically shivering at the touch of the thin fabric against his skin, gathering the drippy fluids and smearing them up

- yeah, he knows he’s gross and weird, but somehow can’t get himself to stop.

- something about doing all that lewd stuff behind your back makes him warm inside, a crude excitement fills him up each time he touches himself to the image of you

- blushes extremely hard the morning after his doings, when he not so accidentally runs to you on the hallway

- not a single ounce of shame inside that perverted body of his…….. -_-

- there’s times when he can no longer use your belongings to cum, practically unusable after jerking off w them repeatedly #•_•

- so he opts for the pillow. just slowly thrusting his hips to gather a touch, the fluffy fabric barely in contact with his boner makes him feral

- he is so stupidly desperate is so embarrassing

“s-shit… owwww!” hamzah bit his lip down so hard he swore he drew a bit of blood, “please, please, y/n let me- fuuuck, let me cum please? can i- just..”

he doesn’t even care if nobody is listening to him let alone you, he still asks for your permission because he wants to be good so bad

- humps the pillow like it’s his last day on earth.. the squeaking of the bed gets repetitive as his movements get clumsy and fast while chasing his high

- maybe the neighbours from the floor below will finally think he got to get laid. shame is, that’s just his pillow.

- hamzah thinks a screw came loose inside his mind when he gets the sudden urge to knock on your door to make his presence known

- but not exactly to introduce himself

- his hands are sweaty and shaky when he fidgets with the lewd object between his fingers but smiles to himself as he thinks of how beautiful and precious your surprised face would be ^_^

- after knocking twice, loud enough for you and the whole damn building to hear, he runs ungodly fast back to his apartment, ready to uncover the peephole and watch your reaction

hamzah smiles when he admires how you slowly open your door with a greeting smile, one that disappears after you realise there’s nobody at the door.

your big puppy eyes get wide at the expectation of seeing someone maybe around the halls, but when you turn your head both ways and see no one, hamzah bites his lip, feeling the know inside his stomach get tight with anticipation.

god you’re so fucking pretty. so naive.

when your sight glances at the floor, your eyebrows furrow confused, you bend your knees to the ground and kneel infront of the object placed on your welcome mat. huh?

“w-what…?” you murmur, and hamzah lets out a tiny moan when your soft voice leaves your lips.

“oh my god!”

you yelp when you realise that in fact, it is your long lost panties right there in front of you! however something doesn’t sit right when you grab them from the floor…

why are they damp and sticky?

hamzah observes behind closed doors, he wishes he could just go out and admit his nasty crimes, but how could he? if he can admire you from anonymity.

how could hamzah ever show his true self to you? oh, you’re just so innocent, so blind and clueless. he loves how dirty he feels when thinking of you.

- a few days later, he makes sure to do down the laundry room at the same time as you usually do, hoping to see you there.

- to his surprise, there you are! sorting out your dirty clothes and throwing the wet items into the dryer.

- he hesitates to say hi, just a polite good morning! or maybe a damn that’s a lot of laundry! but decides to shut up.

- instead, his eyes widen in surprise when you are the one to speak up at him for the first time….

“hey, sorry to bother, could- umm, could you maybe lend me some of your detergent? please?” your eyes looked glossy and shiny and he just wanted to devour you right there

he gulped and swallowed hard. suddenly his hands started sweating abnormally. however, he put up with a gentle smile.

“sure, use as much as you need.” he passed you the bottle. your fingers brushed and while you didn’t really mind, hamzah felt like he was about to bust.

“thank you! im double washing and ran out of my own detergent, but i’ll make it up to you! thanks a lot!” you explained, and he found it so endearing how you took the time to explain even when he didn’t need an explanation.

i’ll make it up to you! your words engraved into his brain. for real. he had many, many ideas of how you could make it up to him.

“it’s fine, don’t worry, i really don’t mind sharing, hah.” he reassured you. then he swallowed hard again, getting closer to you. “why are you double washing for?” he tried to make small talk.

you stopped your actions and looked at the ground.

‘oh well, someone likes to steal my underwear and nut on it! that’s why!’ you thought. then quickly laughed it away.

“just because.” you said. “better to be clean, right?” you friendly bumped his shoulder and he giggled.

hamzah knew damn well.

“yeah, right.”

- after that interaction he a 100% couldnt keep his hands off his dick for a week straight, just thinking about the way you carelessly speak, how you move and how you exist

- he’d fantasise about you talking him through his orgasm…. he’s obsessed with your voice so fucking much.

“owww, fuck! yeah, yeah…. just… fuck, yeah thank you, thank you, thank you, y/n…”

his chest heaved with shaky breaths, he was exhausted. jerking off was exhausting when he couldn’t stop to rest, just kept going and going until his mind was blurry and could no longer even think of you.

he imagined how your pretty voice would praise him, how you’d caress his hair as he spilled over and over his hand. ugh, he was so needy.

- hamzah’s obsessive curious feelings towards you keep growing even more when you start greeting him in the halls

- or when you hold the elevator door open for him

- and he can’t help but think, that if he hadn’t cum on your panties, you would’ve never noticed him. ever.

- how cool is that? hamzah thought, very fucking cool.

>_<

i hate this BUT i had been writing this since last week i just needed to LOCK IN. bye sorry this sucks byeee

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

Don’t Drink- Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky comforts crying reader when Tony goes too far

Word count: 955

TW: discussions of alcoholism, self harm and neglectful family

Most of the night you had been lively, energetic and maybe even a little flirty with a certain brunette super soldier, but when that question came out of Tony’s mouth, in front of every one, you couldn’t help shrink into yourself.

You are by no means a shy person, I mean sometimes you can be closed off but you’re happy to talk to anyone, which is what you had been doing.

The typical Stark party was starting to wind down and you and your friends had found a couch and were happily talking. You sat sipping your lemonade, now Nat was no longer manning the bar, her amazing mocktails were off the menu. You were both listening and talking to your friends, and everything was going great. Until that damn question rung loud across your friends, and cutting you to the core.

“Well why doesn’t y/n drink?” Tony shouted drunkly, causing everyone to stop their conversations and stare between you and he.

The tension in the room suddenly became thick as some of your friends looked at you with worrying looks, and some glaring at Tony. You didn’t blame Tony, and if he’d just accepted the excuse you gave it would have been fine. He didn’t know about your dad or your family, only a few of the team did, but he didn’t have to push.

“I mean come on, it’s a party, we’re all drinking and having a good time, maybe a few drinks might loosen you up a bit. Maybe if you had a drink or two, you might even get lucky,” Tony winked at you.

This got people annoyed.

“Come on, Tony, that’s enough,” Steve said, both he and Rhodey trying to usher him away, while Natasha held your hand and Bucky looked at you with sweet eyes.

“Well why doesn’t she?” He shouted, refusing to leave and demanding an answer like a child.

This confrontation had flooded you with shame and embarrassment, but now as you stared into his stupid drunk eyes, all you felt was rage.

“Maybe because unlike you, I don’t want to turn into an asshole like my dad! Maybe because if I drink I might cut myself like my mum used to! Maybe I don’t drink because I don’t want to turn into a pathetic alcoholic like you or my shitty fucking dad!” You shouted back at the man, your skin hot, chest heaving and tears began to fill your eyes.

All humour had left Tony’s eyes at your confession and he hung his head in shame, while attempting a weak apology. Not wanting to hear it or hear the pity of your friends, you stormed off. It had been a lovely night, but of course, Tony had to ruin it.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Natasha growled at Tony as your friends watched you storm away.

As Maria and Yelena came over to calm Nat, Bucky made his way for the door you left from.

It didn’t take long for him to find you, following the aching sounds of your crying. The sound of your upset hurt him, but as he saw you sitting on the corridor floor, his heart absolutely shattered.

“Oh, doll,” Bucky gently sighed as he bent down to be face to face with you.

Raising your head from your hands revealed a makeup stained face and blood shot eyes, the sight destroying Bucky even further.

Not wanting any pity from anyone, you tried to stand to leave, but Bucky was faster. He sat down on the floor and dragged you into his lap, holding you so you couldn’t leave and be alone with this feeling.

“I’m here, it’s okay,” he whispered sweetly against your hair, kissing your forehead as he gently rocked you in his arms.

With one hand on your thigh and the other around your arm, he held and rocked you until your heavy cries became light sniffles. Raising your head, you looked into his sweet blue eyes.

“I’m sorry, James, I-I shouldn’t have made such a scene like that,” you quietly apologised with a shaky and rough voice. You looked down to your lap in shame as you pull away from his chest.

The fact you thought you had to apologise for this cut Bucky to his very core, realising what not just HYDRA but your parents must have done to make you feel like such a burden.

“You have nothing to apologise for, sweetheart,” he gently comforted as he tucked pieces of hair behind your ear and he wiped some of the makeup from your face.

“Tony is a dick, and shouldn’t have pushed you like that. I’m honestly glad you told him off, and crying is nothing to be ashamed of,” he continued to comfort.

Holding your cheek in his hand, he stared lovingly into your eyes as he slowly leaned down. Your lips met in a gentle and sweet kiss, one full of comfort, but not pity, full of love and honest feelings.

As the sweet kiss parted, you couldn’t help the light smile that graced your lips.

“There’s my girl,” Bucky whispered sweetly to you.

“Your girl?” You asked hopefully, your smile widen and light returning to your eyes.

“My girl,” Bucky confirmed, “my girl who never has to apologise for her feelings and who I will hold and listen to whenever she needs.”

“Your girl, my James,” you smiled up at him, your hands now resting on his chest.

Hearing you say that you were his and he was yours, filled Buckys heart with so much love, he thought he might explode. A large toothy smile graced his gorgeous face, as he pressed you against his strong chest in a sweet embrace.

[tteokdoroki]

*ੈ🌩️‧₊˚— playing defence + yoichi isagi.

૮˶ᵕ ༝ᵕ˶ა synopsis — you bitch slap kaiser for talking smack about your boyfriend. perhaps isagi is rubbing off on you.

⭑ warnings — please read + mdni ! characters aged up to 20s, crack, fluff, suggestive towards the end, violence, smack talk, mentions of injury, mentions of blood, established relationship, pro player!isagi, fem!reader - not beta read !

⭑ words — 2.2K.

⭑ notes — greetings all! isagi brain rot is so real rn, i swear i have like six wips for him... anyways this was a silly little idea that popped into my head lmao kinda cringe but i had fun with it !! enjoy ! - m.list ✩

your boyfriend is somewhat of a conundrum.

the world knows yoichi isagi as the ruthless heart of blue lock’s success. a man that’s unrelenting on the field with his strategic mind and frightening air of dominance poured into his every play. every movement he makes is calculated meticulously, the greed for a goal simmering in his blood. isagi as a pro player is foul mouthed and messy — taunting his opponent until they crumble into nothing but dust before his very eyes.

the media thinks he’s cocky, but rightfully so. after all yoichi isagi is the catalyst for a new generation of japanese soccer. the girls love him, he’s charming in interviews without meaning to be — they like how he talks about you. as if you’re a gem that’s worth millions. precious.

the isagi that you know has a tender touch and his soul warm, he wears his heart right on his sleeve and never lets you go a moment without knowing you’re appreciated. the isagi that you know is encouraging, he’s always on your side. if he needs to, he’ll sweet talk you with honey glazed words and kiss you until your thoughts fizzle out into stardust.

isagi is good.

he’s good to his friends, his teammates, his parents — he’s almost too good to be true. as if he’s been peeled from the pages of a shoujo romance manga or ripped from the silver screen of a perfect Hollywood romcom. a literal walking green flag. you’d say that you were lucky to have him, and yoichi would spin it on you — using strings of sweet words to express just how deep and profound his love is for you, praising you just enough to melt you into a love sick puddle of goo. and he’d mean it, sincerity swirling in his whirlpooling blue eyes. he swears by it.

so when someone pisses your isagi off, when they hurt him — you can’t help but lose your shit.

it happens during a practise match with a few of the players that joined during the neo-egoist league. although it’s been years since then and the blue lock project has become a formidable team, it keeps the boys on their feet to play with those with other worldly styles of soccer. the match had been going well, isagi trailblazing across the pitch and leaving nothing but a trail of destruction and despair behind — you were proud of him, amazed by him and the talents he possesses. to see him in his element makes your heart swell.

you don’t know kaiser very well — just that he’s super big and plays for the german team that gave isagi his leg up in the soccer world. you’ve heard from others about how much of a dick he could be and the intense rivalry he had with your boyfriend back when the blue lock project first started. you don’t know kaiser well but that information alone was enough to get your back up whenever he was in close range of yoichi.

and rightfully so. because you see the way he prods and pokes at the beautiful, sensitive parts of your lover as they race across to the penalty area. you notice how it rattles isagi, gets him all up in his head. you hear kaiser say something along the lines of:

“what’s with your shitty plays, yoichi? surely if you’re the heart of blue lock then the future of soccer is bound to be doomed.” he skirts around your boyfriend, intercepting a pass he was meant to receive from nagi. “pathetic, to see how much this star has fallen. i should crush you.”

you’ve heard all the insults the blue lock boys throw at each other before but this is nothing like usual. rin itoshi has said much worse to isagi right in front of your face (and isagi right back, foul mouthed motherfucker) but you know that’s a defence mechanism to how rin truly thinks and feels.

michael kaiser is just an asshole, plain and simple.

and that kind of behaviour doesn’t fly with you when it comes to yoichi.

you storm onto the pitch from the sidelines before your mind can even catch up to your body. the other players working around your boyfriend and his rival stop their movements as you stroll past them, snapped out of their egoist state by the referee whistle that calls for you to stop.

“m-ma’am! you can’t be on the pitch!”

you walk right past ness, weave between kurona, bachira and hiori, and right up to the blonde haired perpetrator himself. you’re polite about it too, tapping him on the shoulder to interrupt the narcissistic monologue he’s giving to isagi and showing him your sweetest, kindest smile.

there’s a split second before the blunt force of your fist collides with michael kaiser’s cheek and he’s knocked to the ground from the weight of it.

“you better watch who the fuck you’re talking to, you clownish freak.”

“babe?” isagi jumps into action despite his shock and the sniggers from other players on the field. he wraps his strong arms around your middle and tugs you into his chest with a winded laugh. “precious, what are you doing here?”

“he can’t talk to you like that!”

“but baby, you can’t be here—“

“this isn’t good.” bachira sings from a safe distance.

“fuck! what the actual fuck?” kaiser swears, using the sleeve of his jersey to wipe the blood from his bruising nose. “who’s crazy groupie is this?”

another wave of anger crashes through your veins, your blood at its boiling point as his words register within you. “excuse me?” isagi snarls, clearly unimpressed, loosening his hold on you while you struggle against your boyfriend’s lean frame.

“so what? you get your girlfriend to play defence for you and then act like i’m in the wrong? i said, get this groupie away from me—!”

before anyone on the pitch can realise, you’re free from isagi’s hold and you’re on kaiser like white on rice — fisting his sweatshirt between the same pretty fingers that treat isagi like he’ll break with too much force. “you wanna say that again, shitstain?” you run your tongue over your teeth, the menacing glint to your eye making you look like you’re a predator about to hunt down her prey. the blonde shakes underneath you as you pin him to the grass — an insult rolling around on his tongue. “i wouldn’t waste my words. you should just lay down and die before you take another sucker punch from this groupie.”

“do you have any idea how much this face is worth? i should—“

“gimme a break michael kaiser,” to your left you can hear bachira chanting something about ‘no violence’, bouncing around excitedly and a wicked grin tugs on the corner of your lips. “you’re not worth shit to me. so keep fucking around and find out, pretty boy. you talk smack about yoichi again and i swear your face won’t be the only goods i damage.”

“jeez, you’re just as crazy as that wanna be protagonist over there—“ is all he can muster before he flinches back from your fists that raise a over your head.

isagi moves quicker this time, scooping you up from underneath your armpits despite how you huff, puff and protest. “alright, alright, you’re done here. let’s go, princess.” he says sheepishly. maybe he’s been rubbing off on you a little too much.

his comforting touch slides down to your hand, grabbing at it to drag you off the pitch for the sake of kaiser’s safety, keeping everyone else out of harms way. and isagi just about gets you off the green before you set your sights on your next victim — ness, who can’t help but make faces at you as you trudge after your boyfriend.

drawing a line over your throat with your thumb, you make direct eye contact with him. “you’re next, shitty little meat-rider—! ow! ‘ichi!” you bark, but isagi quickly scoops you up again like a cat holding her kitten by the nape.

you have no choice but to back down for now.

“yanno, you really didn’t have to do that.”

isagi let’s you go once you’re back in the locker rooms to check on your hand. he crouches before you (where you sit just a level above him on the metal bench), holding an ice pack to your knuckles with the trace of a smile on his lips, only lifting it to see if the swelling has gone down. isagi reads you like an open book, he’s got you all figured out so he leaves you with the space to react and have your little tantrums.

besides, it’s cute that you get so pissed off when it comes to him. watching your nose scrunch up and your lips twist into a pout while you fight your own outburst just makes his heart beat for you a little faster.

“oh i fucking did! he was being so horrible to you and i couldn’t just let it slide!” you huff as your temper flares, shoulders sagging and arms crossing over your chest. he says nothing for a moment and lifts the compress from your hand to check the damage.

“look at you, precious girl. you’ve only gone and hurt yourself,” even when you’re throwing a fit like this, yoichi can only see the beauty in you — his cheeks flushing at how much you care for him. the dark haired striker flips through a first aid kit that rests at your feet, looking for disinfectant to clean up your split knuckles. “and, as for kaiser… well, he’s always like that.”

“well, i don’t like kaiser. i hope a bird shits on his head and both sides of his pillows are warm.”

“bird shit is supposed to be a sign of good luck, baby.”

“don’t test me yoichi isagi.”

he dabs at your wounds with a cotton pad and a brownish liquid that smells like the dettol your mom would keep in the cabinet under the kitchen sink for when you got yourself into similar situations like this as a kid. but instead of scolding you like she would, yoichi tends to your cuts and scrapes either upmost care. still smiling to himself. smiling at you. resisting the urge to burst with affection.

“you’re gonna have to apologise, precious.” he mutters absentmindedly, wincing when you do.

“i-i’m not going to, he deserved it!” that much is true, kaiser is clown who needs to be put in his place but it shouldn’t have been by you and at the expensive of your precious hands getting hurt.

you’re in more pain than you’re willing to show, and it bothers isagi just a little bit that you’re experiencing it because of him.

“well he did, but ego won’t be happy.”

“did ego make you apologise for all those times you beat the crap out of your teammates for even looking at me? for stealing your goals?” you roll your eyes, leaning away from your doting boyfriend in protest.

isagi grabs at your wrist firmly, tugging you back into place so he can start wrapping your hand up — ignoring the way his face and the tips of his ears start to burn up in embarrassment. “well no… but that’s different. friendly competition.”

“hardly! may i remind you that shidou literally couldn’t walk for a week straight after he commented on my ass? because of you?”

“i was defending your honour! and keep still!”

you give isagi a pointed look. hypocrite. “okay, but what about when rin said you couldn’t fuck for the life of you and then you proved your point. using me. in front of him. was that about honour or about your ego? mister egoist.” isagi’s big blue eyes instantly shoot up to meet yours and blushes a crimson that could rival the shade of the older itoshi brother’s hair. “itoshi couldn’t look at me for weeks!”

“point taken.” knowing that he won’t win this argument (if you could even call it that), isagi finishes up with bandaging your hand and takes a seat next to you, a comfortable silence settling over you both while he attempts to piece together why you love him this much. to play knight in shining armour to his damsel in distress.

“are you…really going to make me apologise yoichi?” you ask him sheepishly after some time, leaning into him for comfort.

“not if you don’t want to, precious.” he hums, fondly brushing a thumb over the back of your bandaged hand. a silent thank you. a hidden i love you.

“good,” you whine now that all of your adrenaline’s worn off and you can really feel the consequences of punching a world class striker in the face. “now kiss my knuckles. they hurt.” holding up your hand to isagi’s face, you shake it as if to rid yourself of the painful ebb to it.

“better?” isagi complies, his lips soft against your skin.

“much.”

“so spoilt,” he adds. your boyfriend’s voice stays low while he plays with your bruised fingers and checks them over, resting his head against your own affectionately. “next time you throw a punch in my name, tuck your thumb into your fist to minimise the damage. i don’t like seeing you get hurt.”

“so you did like seeing me punch kaiser.” you giggle, squirming when isagi drops your hand to pull you into his lap possessively. his loving grin spreads even further when your eyes widen at a certain…hardness poking your inner thigh.

“oh yeah, super hot. i love it when you get mad ‘n start talking shit for me.”

isagi doesn’t make it back to practice, too caught up in showing you just how much he loves it when you start fights over him.

[princessfbi]

“What was that noise?” + polyfire

You should know in true us fashion I had a smutty idea and a whumpy idea for this one. Today smutty wins.

“What was that noise?”

Heat burned into Buck’s cheeks as he stared up at them. The humiliation started slow, spreading down his throat into his chest and up to the top of his head as he clamped his teeth down onto his lip. His body was slick with sweat and spit and blazing from the inside out but Tommy and Eddie were staring down at him like he was a wonder.

Their twinned stunned expressions morphed through a kaleidoscope of emotions and Buck could only hold his breath and wait. Wait for them to decide if they would spare him some dignity and pretend they hadn’t heard it. Or—

Tommy pinned down Buck’s wrists and Buck keened beneath the pressure. His back bowed off the bed as the inferno inside his veins surged and Buck keened. A mewling, pathetic sound that was the definition of desperate and not at all sexy but god he couldn’t help it.

Tommy eased his grip but didn’t let go. He got it first because of course he did. They’d been dating long enough to know each other’s in and outs but they hadn’t had a chance to explore… this. Not before they realized that every night they spent with Eddie just added more fuel for their desire to have him too. Even then, Tommy had always been gentle. A tender, world shattering mind blowing gentleness that made Buck nearly sob with how cared for he felt. No one had ever held him the way Tommy did. Like he was something to be cared for. Like he was something that could shatter and that was the last thing in the world Tommy wanted. Like he was to be treasured and loved.

It was a gentleness that swept into their new dynamic with Eddie. It started as carefulness, a considerate but curious hand that traveled along Buck’s body as Eddie explored. There had been a wonder too. Like Eddie didn’t think he’d ever get the chance to run his fingertips along Buck’s ribcage, taste his lips, feel the way Buck unraveled beneath his attention. Gentleness was at the very heart of Eddie’s nature and Buck didn’t know how he’d been so lucky to somehow be wanted by the two most gentle people in all the world.

Most days he felt unworthy of them. Those same days, however, they spent hours trying to change his mind.

“Oh,” Tommy said, his brow furrowed in concentration and Buck tried hide his face in his bicep before he imploded with embarrassment. Tommy squeezed his wrists again and Buck squeaked as he blinked up at them. “There it is.”

Eddie looked back down at him with an almost frown marring his expression before his eyes drifted to Tommy’s hands and then Tommy.

When he looked back down at Buck again, his eyes were smoldering.

“You like that?” Eddie asked, so very much the opposite of gentle hands grabbing onto his hips and forcing his legs even wider.

Buck stuttered out as gasp as he slid across the mattress, a pressure building in his shoulders as Tommy kept him pinned in place by his hands. The barest hint of Eddie’s nails scraped up the soft parts of his thighs and Buck trembled all over as he tried to close his legs. But Eddie was fitted in between them, holding them open and leaving Buck exposed.

“Is there something you’ve been wanting to ask us for, sweetheart?” Eddie asked, his voice dark and teasing as those nails dragged up his stomach and chest before sliding up to his throat.

He didn’t squeeze. But the weight was there. A promise.

Buck shivered.

“You want us to be a little mean to you?” Tommy asked.

Yes. Yes yes yesyesyesyes!

Buck didn’t know how much he wanted that until that very moment but he wanted. He wanted it so badly he thought he would die without it.

It wasn’t his first time being adventurous in the bed. But it was the first time it was with two partners that could throw him around like he weighed nothing at all. Buck wanted it. Wanted to be like a rag doll between the two people who made him feel nothing but safe for his every breath.

Tommy yanked Buck’s hands further above his head as Eddie dragged his nails over the pebbling nubs of his nipples. White hot pain laced with the burning pleasure churning deep in his belly. It stole his vision away as Buck squirmed. He whined high and thin as he tried to get some more.

“Use your words, baby boy.”

That. That wasn’t something Buck knew would alight the already burning inferno inside him.

“Oh,” Eddie practically purred as he swept his thumb over Buck’s lips. “He liked that one.”

The heat in Buck’s face soared down his throat into his chest as he squeezed his eyes shut. Sparked dashed across his eyelids as he tried to will the racing of his heart down but it was no use. Not when the gentle fingertips from before were slowly but surely turning deliciously bruising.

“P-Please…” He breathed.

“Listen how pretty he begs.” Eddie praised and it washed through Buck like a wave that stole all the air from his lungs.

“I bet we could find some more noises,” Tommy said, his smile wicked and beautiful.

“If we work together,” Eddie said and Buck only barely opened his eyes to see Eddie surge forward to capture Tommy’s lips with his own.

[abditorial]

You def fed the people with the dry humping post LAWD 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

May I humbly request a continuation with inumaki 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

The song says lady boner gone but tbh lady boner is definitely still here…

Since you asked so humbly! 🤭

YOUR ACTIONS ARE DOING ALL THE ASKING,

I CAN FEEL YOUR BODY TREMBLING.

More dry humping ♥︎

FT. Toge Inumaki

X READER

WARNINGS: 18+, AFAB reader, Toge says actual words that aren’t verbs like “yes” “okay” and so on, semi-public sex, eventual penetration, creampie, not proofread (i’ll do it later leave me alone…)

It was just like Gojo to make a big deal about his own birthday. Plan a huge surprise party for himself at one of, if not the, most expensive restaurants in Tokyo and offering to pay for everyone who showed up as well as inviting all his students and co-workers. While he was rather charming, most of his friends tended to come from work or were his students and half of them found him annoying so he basically had to bribe you all to show up.

As expected you were sitting at one end of the table with the rest of the second years, which really only consisted of your boyfriend, Maki, and Panda. Yuta was still overseas… Lucky bastard getting to skip an awkward dinner party that was mostly just Gojo and Itadori having loud conversations about nothing important while the rest of you whispered amongst yourselves.

“Toge, what do you plan on getting?” Communication was hard as his lover, because you had to be careful what you asked and he had to be careful how he responded. Verbs weren’t allowed in day to day conversations because he feared he’d accidentally end up using his cursed speech on you. This was a simple question, though. He could answer truthfully without consequences. But he didn’t; Your boyfriend fell silent.

This piqued your curiosity and you lifted your gaze away from the menu to make sure everything was alright. However, you found yourself blushing profusely when you were met with a look that could only be described as hunger. Hunger for you. He was nearly undressing you with his eyes, letting his gaze drift all over your body and take in how gorgeous you looked in your nice low cut top and jeans that hugged your hips perfectly. The way the necklace he got you rested on your collarbone and dragged all his attention to your chest.

“Toge!” You whisper yelled at him, glanced around the table to make sure nobody was watching, and then gestured to the obvious tent in his pants. He finally looked away to where you could only see the tips of his ears going red. “Really? Now?”

“Salmon…” The way he said it was very pathetic, because he knew he should be slightly ashamed but all he could think was the dirtiest of thoughts.

“…” You gave a huff and leaned in to whisper, “I’ll meet you in the bathroom in like five minutes.” Don’t forget the light smack on the arm and a “hurry up!”

Exactly five and a half minutes passed when you were excusing yourself from the table and rushing off to the bathrooms. You had never been to this restaurant, and to your dismay the only options were bathrooms with various stalls, meaning you were very much at risk of being caught. After successfully sneaking you inside the men’s restroom, Toge had pulled you both in the furthest stall from the entrance. He had no problem finding out what he wanted from you, because he was also positioning you just right.

Your ass flush to his crotch, which was still raging hard and seeming like it didn’t plan on ‘deflating’ any time soon. You pressed your palms up against the stall door to keep yourself steady while you bent over because if anyone knew how much Toge enjoyed seeing your spine arch to amplify how plump your bottom was it was you. As expected, he was already giving a low groan of his approval.

Starting off at a slow pace, his hips were moving just like they would if he was really inside you, feeling your warmth. Shit, if it weren’t for the fact you guys were at your teacher’s birthday party maybe he wouldn’t have hesitated to take what he wanted. But since he was such a gentleman he figured he would avoid making such a big mess around all your guys’ friends.

A whine fell from your lips, and almost instantly he had leaned over your bent figure to cover that pretty mouth with his hand, grunting a low “Roe,” in your ear that was pretty clear it meant ‘shut up’. Of course he couldn’t really say that, Toge was too addicted to the soft moans you made to make you silence yourself entirely.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to focus on anything but the feeling of his hard on poking at your ass, or how his cold hands were pressed against your tummy, sliding up your shirt to make you shiver and squirm. He was damn near panting in your ear, trying to keep his mouth shut about how badly he wanted to be inside you or to feel your mouth around his cock to keep it warm.

“Toge,” You whined as quietly as you could. You didn’t want to get caught. How embarrassing would it be for a friend to walk into the bathroom and catch you two in the act, hearing your voice and knowing automatically what was happening? He grunted as a response, another way to tell you to keep your voice down. “Please, Toge…” But on the other hand, your begging was so cute. “I want you inside me so bad.” Well, if anything this night has told you how easily you can make him hard.

He pressed his lips to your neck, trying to resist your request and instead just focus on leaving you sweet kisses. Yet he couldn’t hold back from the way you grinded back onto him, your every movement clearly desperate. With a huff, your boyfriend straightened himself out and made quick work of your clothes. Fingers carefully yanking your jeans down by the belt loops, hissing when he noticed the circular stain in your panties that told him everything he needed to know. He teasingly brushed his hand against you, cupping your sex and letting his hand drag upwards over your ass and to the waistband of your underwear, taking his sweet time to slide them off and let them drop to your ankles.

You were trying to be silent when he initially slid himself in, but good god did you miss the feeling of him being inside you. The feeling was clearly mutual too, because he was, once again, hunched over with his face buried in your neck to stifle his little, pathetic whines. As much as he wanted to lose himself and just rail you like it was all he knew how to do, every thrust was slow and passionate to avoid making so much noise.

“Can I-?” You didn’t let him finish his sentence, because you already knew what he was going to ask and what your answer was going to be. With the nod of your head, he was pulling back to hold either side of your ass, rutting his hips forward as far as he could before painting your insides white.

It was quite awkward shuffling out of the restaurant with only the excuse that “something came up” while you were trying to not let his cum spill from your panties. That ‘something’ being your boyfriend’s dick. Again.

If Inumaki was talking with someone and he told them to go fuck themself as a joke would they actually do it??

It’s a little hard to write for Inumaki because I have to avoid phrases that can be seen as instructions or taken literally. But it’s worth it because I love him

As always, requests are open!!

[dollwrites]

𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐲 — 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐮𝐧

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ this is a dark fic! smut ( minors dni ), fem!marleyan!reader, noncon ( and eventual dubcon ), virgin!reiner, gagging, size kink, noncon oral sex ( f! ), lots of manhandling, overstimulation ( him ), noncon creampie and dubcon breeding mention, tension between marleyan & eldian obviously, spoilers for late s3 / early s4, all characters featured are 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ originally posted on 01.01.2023. do not repost or translate. please reblog && leave feedback. thanks for reading < 3

𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 ∣ unholy by hey violet

he was watching you again.

it seemed like he always was. quietly ogling from the corner. you knew, of course, and every now and then, you would cut him a glare that seemed to burn right through him. the furrow in your brows brought forth the memory of a soreness in his jaw, that he discreetly reached up to rub with the back of his hand— the sensation of your fist making direct contact with it wrenched to the forefront of his mind. you’d decked him, hard enough to dislocate it, because you’d woken up to find one hand inching up under your shirt. he hadn’t been able to control the urge to touch you any longer, and although his fingers had not made it far above your belly button, he’d paid for their misdeeds severely: first the punch from you, and then a savage beating dealt from the hands of your peers— Marleyan soldiers.

but maybe he was lucky.

had he been any other Eldian, anyone of lower ranking, he would’ve been beaten to death for touching you. but did that stop him from wanting you so bad it tortured him? did that stop him from thinking about you late at night, from gripping the sheets of his bed so tight in one hand and himself in the other, whispering your name under his breath and trying his best to imagine it was you wrapped around his hard and desperate cock instead of his fist?

not even for a second.

“Going home,” Zeke announced his presence as he approached, the cherry of a cigarette burning and a dull, gray trail of smoke following him, “are you excited?”

“Yeah.” a pathetic excuse for a reply, actually, but Zeke hadn’t seemed to expect any less. he didn’t bother following Reiner’s eyeline, he already knew where it would lead, and that you were on the end of it. Reiner hadn’t even looked away when Zeke approached, so the War Chief was aware he was deep in his hapless abyss of desire for you.

Zeke sucks on the cigarette, and the end singes furious red as he draws in a deep breath and contemplates the silence between them.

but Reiner wasn’t. he was lost in his thoughts of you. the shape of your body, how effortlessly enticing you were just sitting there with your comrades. that damned unreadable expression you always wore— and that fiery hatred in your eyes when he caught them. did you loathe the weight of his gaze so much? did you feel every ounce of lust he poured into it, tracing each curve of your figure, wishing he could kiss every inch of you? you never held his gaze long, just enough to grimace in disapproval, stare down your nose at him.

it should’ve turned him off completely.

it didn’t.

because Reiner was convinced that, if he could just get you alone, if he could just get his hands on you, he could make you like him. he could rip away that hatred, and replace it with affection.

or, maybe it was just wishful thinking, and he didn’t care to talk himself out of the lie he fed himself because his time was running out and he needed to feel you ( even just once ) before he passed his Titan down.

as if fate was winking her eye at him, you said farewell to your peers and got up from your seat, disappearing behind a closed door. it wasn’t to go to the bunker, he knew that. behind that door was a small room where you spent most of your time— a broad desk in the middle of the room and maps spread out. you were in charge of reading them, marking attack points, rendezvous, and escape points.

and, more often than not, you were alone in there.

Reiner’s hands clenched into fists, and the muscles in his jaw tightened.

Zeke glanced at him, eyebrow quirked, and murmured, “What if I ordered you against it?” Reiner didn’t have to tell Zeke what he planned to do, it was painfully obvious already.

“I would tell you to have me punished for insubordination after we reach home.” Reiner didn’t mince words or intentions, and pushed himself off the wall. this was, quite possibly, the only opportunity he’d have to catch you alone, as he watched the other Marleyans filtering towards their bunks, leaving your little office completely unguarded.

Zeke pondered his response.

Reiner seemed decided already, and he knew that he couldn’t be swayed. so, the chief sighs. “Then, I’ll order you not to get caught this time.” Zeke said, instead. he knew he shouldn’t allow Reiner out of his sight, and especially not to disappear behind that door, but Reiner also wasn’t a child anymore. he wasn’t so easy to control. “I need my Vice Chief alive.”

Reiner blinked, expecting more resistance, but when it wasn’t pressed, he didn’t look at Zeke. he nodded, and crept off, slinking through the shadowy corners until he reached the door.

Reiner slipped inside, but made no real efforts to hide his arrival, staring at your back. you were standing at the desk, both hands on the maps, and you don’t say anything to the intruder. his eyes don’t leave you, hand drifting to the push the lock on the door into place.

“The war’s over.” he mutters, and he watches your shoulders stiffen. you hadn’t expected it to be him, it seems. “You can stop staring at those maps.”

you don’t look back at him, and he uses the opportunity of stealth to reach up and grasp his armband, his marker as an Eldian, and snatch it from his bicep as he approached.

“As long as Eldians exist, there will be other wars.” you spit in return, but your eyes widen only slightly when you hear how close his footsteps have gotten. your heart skips a beat, and you stare at your own fist on the table. “Get out of here.”

“No.”

a lump forms in your throat— he was right behind you. when he whispered it, his breath shifted the hair that rested against your ear, and the heat from his breath sent a shiver up your spine. did he… did he say ‘no’? to a direct order from a Marleyan?

“I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you.” he added, and you felt the sturdiness of his body against your back; his head dips low, so he can breathe your scent in deep.

your fist flew back towards him as you started to turn to face off with him, but he must’ve been ready for it, because he caught your arm at the wrist and bent it up behind your back until you cry out, “Son of a —!”

your expletive is muffled, and you gag on the taste of cotton. for a moment, you can’t tell what he’s shoved in your mouth, until he cinches it in a tight knot behind your head, pressing his weight on you, and you realize it’s his armband. rage fills your stifled obscenities as you writhe, desperate to get free, and stomp your feet, hoping to catch his toes under your boots. “I didn’t want to do it like this,” he growled in your ear, bringing his knees up into the back of yours, bending you over the tabletop with a rough shove. one, massive fist secures both of your wrists together at the small of your back, “but, I’m almost outta time. And I can’t wait on you to come around, anymore.” the more you wiggle, the harder he squeezes your arms, and you bite down hard on the gag. you were no match for his strength, and you knew that, but your pride wouldn’t be easily broken.

you kicked and flailed as wildly as you could, blindly, screaming slurred and incoherent about all the gruesome, bloody ways you would make him pay for this if he didn’t get off of you, but even that didn’t stop him.

his free hand grasped your belt and the hem of your trousers at once, jerking them down your thighs. leather screamed until it pools with your pants at your ankles, restricting them, and Reiner sucks in a breath behind you. “I really wanted to take my time with you,” he husks, placing his powerful palm on your ass and digging his fingers in, groping rough handfuls. you bite down to push a moan back into your throat, brows furrowed. both of your fists uncurl, and you hook your digits into the waistband of your panties, instead, in a vain attempt to keep him from tearing them off of you. it doesn’t matter; Reiner’s calloused fingers seemed to rip right through the cotton and shred them until they sagged in threads against your thighs. and then, he lets out a low, awed moan, squatting down to stare at your core, inches from it.

“Do you know how many times I’ve dreamt of this? Imagined how sweet your pussy must taste?” you shook your head, gurgling in defiance— demanding he not even dare, but it was too late. your fingers push at his forehead, hoping to pry him away, but his mouth was already sealing against your netherlips, suckling on them. you pushed your tongue against the gag to keep yourself from moaning; you couldn’t admit to him how good it felt, especially when his tongue slipped between his lips and flicked your clit to life. the throbbing nerve swells against his tastebuds and he snorts like a beast in rut, lapping at you. his mouth then travels over one ass cheek, sinking his teeth in deep, sucking on the skin to leave his signature on you. you squeak, clenching your legs together, but it hid nothing from his devious mouth. “I’ve never felt a cunt tremble in my mouth before, soak my tongue…” he admitted, panting already as he gets to his feet, “how does it feel having the first and last pussy I’ll ever kiss?” and, then you felt the firmness of a solid cock through the trousers he was working down against your thighs, his mouth finding the back of your neck. “The first and last pussy I’ll ever fuck?”

you squirm underneath his weight, muffled screams of protest hoping to reach outside the door dying in the room you’re trapped in, and before long he grabs hold of the base of his massive cock at its thick base, worming it between your folds until they stretch and slot around the swollen head. you could tell his hands were shaking, his breath ragged and excited against your neck. “You’re wet,” he breathes in awe, and you shake your head, crying out the word ‘no!’ as loud as you could, but it was ultimately a lie. you were dripping, coating the tip of his cock as he rubbed it back and forth against your sex. “Wet enough to take me right now.” the way he said it, with his voice uneven, you knew it wouldn’t matter if you hadn’t been.

he wasn’t giving you a choice, and any preparation was better than none at all.

your palms press flat against his clothed abdomen and you squeal in fervent protest when he jabs his way inside of you— it’s none too gentle and his size is enough to have you coming out of your skin. your walls flutter and scramble to stretch wide enough to allow for the intruder’s rough entry.

it isn’t long before Reiner, grunting and groaning, has fallen into a brutal, greedy rhythm.

crying out, drool soaking the armband digging into the corners of your mouth, you push with your hands, blindly, as hard as you can, to try and push him out, and you squirm atop the table, hoping to wriggle free, but once he’s fully nestled inside, Reiner takes your wrists in each hand. your hands ball into fists again as he uses your arms like levers, pulling your body back to meet the mighty snapping of his hips. each thrust fills you entirely, hard and fast. he’s not saving any energy, or trying to make the sensation last— deprivation has clearly sank into him, and he couldn’t control himself.

“So— so tight,” he moans, nuzzling into your neck, “so warm.. so… fucking… good!” your vice tightens around him when he hits your limit, and his hips stutter; Reiner elicits a broken, gurgling moan that churns your stomach, “Oh, fuck, right there? That’s— that’s what I want— tighten up—!“ shifting with all of his weight bearing down on you, his palms pin your arms to the table, and he pounds that same, sensitive spot relentlessly. his brutality encourages your body to clamp down harder around him, shudder and spasm. you scream and beg him to slow down, but your resolve is weakening, and the screaming is starting to shift into moaning.

no, you didn’t want this.

you didn’t like it.

was he simply breaking your body into submission, and in turn, your mind?

“Close,” he stammered through grinding teeth, “so fucking close.”

for a moment, you mewled; the prominent vein massaging a delicate knot of nerves inside you as he plows against your hips. your eyelids fluttered, and you didn’t hear his warning. his rhythm didn’t change; it remained as cruel as one could be, battering your insides, but that nerve bundle was screaming each time he rammed it. your toes curled in your boots, and you moaned out loud.

and that was when Reiner lost it.

you hadn’t had time to react before he buried himself as deep as he could go, pumping you full of warmth, and you snap out of the pleasure trance too late to utter a disdainful but weak, “Shtp…“ amongst his huffing and puffing. your feet stomp against the floor, but sluggish.

your thighs quaked. your head was spinning. your stomach was tied up in knots. and your walls were trembling and sore from being stretched and abused. but Reiner was still rock hard inside of you. he’d cum, but he was still solid and bulging his shape against your belly.

“I need more.” Reiner grunted, and before you knew it, you were being flipped over. he did it with so much ease that you must’ve weighed nothing at all to the brute, and somehow managed to keep his cock deep inside of you. the breath is knocked from your lungs when your back makes contact with the desk, and your head rolls to one side, as if admitting your defeat. you didn’t want to look at him— you knew if you took one look at his red cheeks, or saw the sparkling sweat against his temple, or even caught a glimpse at his eyes, pupils blown out until they’re all black, you would want him. “Fucking you once was never going to be enough.” his hips were already rocking again, finding a deep, hard rhythm, and his own release frosts his length and dribbles out from your core when he retracts, then squelches when he drills his way back inside. both of his hands flee to his own body first, making short work of the buttons on his shirt before he peels it off of himself, and it flutters to puddle at his feet.

when his hands found you again, he started by pushing your legs open and down against the table, but when he saw that you weren’t going to fight him, he released them, and you kept them spread for him to violate you however he wanted. “Good… Good girl…” he panted, one hand reaching up to grab your face and turn it back to him. this time, you did make eye contact, and you moaned through the gag when you saw the pleasure you were giving him on his face, “Take it, just take it for me.” his fist wraps around the armband and he yanks it down, leaving you sputtering and puffing. “You want it, now, don’t you?”

for a moment, you just glare at him, or try to, but your eyes are becoming harder and harder to keep open. Reiner caresses your cheek, possibly tracing the irritation caused by how tight he’d tied the gag, but the gentleness of his touch was a startling juxtaposition to just how fervently he fucked into you. he was staring into your eyes, too, combatting the ferocity you tried to pour with pure adoration, the kind that must’ve even diluted his mind.

you didn’t answer, and he didn’t seem to care either way, because his hand travels south over your heaving breasts and down to your cunt, strumming experimentally. you pant, your eyes averting from his when he finds your engorged clit and presses the rough pad of his thumb on it to rub it hard. you couldn’t stifle your moans anymore, no matter how hard you tried, and let them punctuate each, maddening slam of his body into yours. your eyes trained on the muscles in his arms, veins bulging, everything pulled taut like a rubber band ready to snap. you wanted to reach down and push his hand away from your bud, the sensations overwhelming you, but decided against it. he’d overpowered you in every aspect of the word so far, you might as well take the role of the weaker, helpless one. your hands lay up near your head, backs of them resting against the table, and your legs were splayed wide, cramping from the position, and you whimpered. your back arched when his thumb pushed in just the right way, and you knew he’d rip an orgasm out of you if he didn’t ease up.

and he didn’t.

when he felt you pulse, when he saw your back arch, he rubbed more furiously in the same spot, and pistoned his powerful hips until you were babbling and squirming and coming undone on his cock, and he was panting and gripping your hip with his free hand, murmuring about how beautiful you were and how much he’s always wanted this.

his second climax wasn’t far behind yours, and he traded his fingers pinching your clit for both hands gripping your hips and pulling them to meet his reckless fucking. “I love you,” he panted when he was right on the cusp. “I love you so fucking much.” and somehow, even though lust might’ve been puppeteering him, you believed it. Reiner was obsessed with you, infatuated, since before he left for Paradis Island, and now he was finally getting to force that obsession on to you. with no more resistance. no one there to stop him or beat him for laying his hands on you.

it was only after he’d pinned you to the table with his whole weight that he whispered in your ear, “I want to give you babies.” your eyes widened at that, “I want to see your belly swell, and I want to know that you’ll bear my children, it’ll make giving over my Titan easier…” a couple of deep, slow pumps and he’s filled you once more, this time the excess spurts out around his base and dribbles down his thighs, too, as he moans and pulls back, to smother your mouth in a sloppy, needy kiss.

you should’ve turned your head, pushed him off and told him that you would rather die than birth and Eldian bastard, but you didn’t do any of those things. because you weren’t entirely sure if that was true anymore.

[konigsrose]

König x Unhappily Married Reader pt 3

I was going to try and space these out more, but I got a little obsessed and finished the whole fic, so I’m going to post a part a day until Friday when it’ll be all over! AO3 Link

———————————————————————————————

It was your birthday, and you had cried on your way into work again. Again, you sat in your car, trying desperately to cover up your puffy eyes and smudged mascara, wiping with tissues before layering on concealer. You hated yourself for it; it wasn’t that you particularly cared about your husband, in fact you probably would jump for joy if he never returned home… but today, of all days, to feel so unwanted, pathetic, and forgotten? He had told you a week ago that he was going away for a few days, he and some of his golfing buddies were taking a trip across the country for a golf tournament. You hadn’t been bothered, it would be a blessed relief not to have to cook and clean for him for a few days, and be free of the constant nagging and belittling. When you’d realised it would be over your birthday, you hadn’t bothered to argue. You assumed he would at least leave you a card, maybe a gift if you were lucky, or some petrol-station flowers before he went.

There was, of course, nothing. Not so much as a text message to say happy birthday. You weren’t even that angry at him about it; you were angry at yourself, for not having the courage to just leave him, even now. And so, once more, you had cried about your own cowardice, cleaned yourself up as best you could, and headed into work. Your favourite colleague - well, favourite female colleague - had brought you a card, seen your badly fixed makeup, and made you spill all within minutes of entering the building. You had tried to hold it in, but it felt good to admit it, and she was of course on your side, listening to you sob, before sending you off to fix your makeup again and giving you a chance to calm down before starting work properly for the day.

You hadn’t even noticed König watching the pair of you from his office, a look of horror on his face at your tears. When you’d gone, he had followed your colleague to the break room, desperate to know what had you so upset. “What’s going on with her?” König grunted, trying to seem as if he only cared professionally; it wouldn’t do for the best member of his team to be out of action. Nothing personal, of course.

“It’s her birthday and… Well, don’t tell her I said anything?” She looked around, as if checking for anyone else listening, though they were alone in the staff kitchen. König nodded; he’d promise whatever if it meant he could find out the reason for your tears, and maybe be the one to stop them. “Her husband is away on a golfing holiday with his friends, didn’t even leave her a card, or send her a message or anything. Asshole.” She clattered with cup and spoon, adding sugar to her coffee, throwing König a look of contempt at the treatment by your pathetic husband.

“Sheiße, really, nothing, not even flowers?” König’s rage was bubbling again, his fists clenched, even as he pretended to be preparing himself a coffee too. “Not a damn thing. I told her it’s about time she divorced his ass!” Your colleague spat the words, almost as angry as König was, though he hid it better. “Why doesn’t she? They don’t have kids or anything, do they?” “No kids… But who knows… Low self esteem, too scared of being alone, afraid of what her family would say? I guess everyone is scared of the unknown… But any unknown would be better for her than him.” She rolled her eyes, shrugged, and left the break room, coffee in hand.

König stood for a minute, lost in thought. He considered his options. Maybe he could find this bastard husband, and give him what he deserved… But that wasn’t the way. You were gentle, and kind; violence wasn’t going to be the answer here. Maybe he could just do something to make you smile, remind you that you were worth more than your idiot husband seemed to think you were? If you were his wife, your birthday would be filled with flowers, expensive gifts, lavish dinners… anything you wanted. Of course, König wasn’t allowed to do any of those things, not as your boss… Well, maybe he could get away with just a little something. He dropped his half made coffee back on the counter, and left the office, not even stopping to grab his jacket.

When he got back, he had a cardboard box in his arms that he hadn’t had when he left. He felt stupid, but he didn’t want to give you a gift in front of the whole office, so he had hidden it in the box, and would wait until everyone else had left. You were always the last to leave, and given how miserable you were at home, especially today, König was sure you would be staying late tonight. The day seemed to pass painfully slowly, König glancing up at you at your desk every few minutes, willing time to pass. It was agony to wait, but as the last couple of workers left, and it was only you and König still in the building, he nervously called you in to his office.

“I… I wanted to say happy birthday,” he began, looking amusingly sheepish for a man who could probably snap another man in half without breaking a sweat. He turned, and reached into the box beside his desk, pulling out a vast and beautiful bouquet of flowers. He had considered roses, but feared that might be too obviously romantic; instead he had chosen a mix of flowers, guided by the florist, in all shades of pink, and red, and purple. “Colonel,” you managed to breathe, your eyes widening in surprise and delight as you reach out and take the flowers from him. “That’s so kind of you, really, you didn’t have to,” you felt your voice catching in your throat as a lump formed, and your eyes pricked with tears. You tried to bow your head, praying he wouldn’t notice, but König studied you too well not to; he took the flowers back and placed them down again, stepping closer to you, and gazing down into your teary eyes. “I wanted to,” he murmured, and added, as a tear teetered on your lashes, “you deserve to be given beautiful things every day, not just on your birthday.” He lifted a trembling hand to your face, and you felt your heart jolt in your chest.

His hand tenderly cupped your cheek, a huge thumb gently wiping away a stray tear which had spilled. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath, letting the scent of him fill you, and reached up to let your own hand rest over his against your cheek. Your eyes fluttered open, and saw König’s, fixed on your face, his expression one of desperate longing. Your lungs felt as though they had turned to stone, you could not possibly breathe, with his hand in yours pressed to your face, so soft, so tender. You tilted your chin ever so slightly higher, as if trying to reach up closer to him, and his eyes were drawn to your lips. König’s own lips parted ever so slightly as he looked at your pretty rosebud mouth, and for a moment it seemed he may finally lean down, and capture those lips with his own. The tension was unbearable, as he hesitated, gazing eagerly at your soft mouth like a man dying of thirst gazing at a glass of water.

A sound cuts through the tense silence, just as König’s neck begins to bend, lowering himself to you; the phone on his desk is ringing. The sound was like a banshee, screeching into the room, and you jumped back from him, dropping his hand with a start of shock. What were you doing? What were you thinking?! Your cheeks heated, and you scrambled to grab the flowers, muttering a mix of thanks and apologies as you fled König’s office, heart pounding. Your head was spinning, twisting with so many emotions swirling in you it was dizzying. You wanted him, god, you wanted him to kiss you, to take you right there in his office… but it was wrong, you knew it was, no matter what your husband had done. If the phone hadn’t rung, what could have happened?

That night, despite the guilt and shame bubbling in your gut, you spent much of the night imagining what could have happened. Instead of the banshee scream of a phone, it would have been your voice, crying out; König’s name, in ecstasy. You weren’t sure if the interruption was a blessing, or a curse… but the flowers sitting on your nightstand, next to your bed, couldn’t help but make you wish that phone had never rung.

[pombeom]

you’ve been a very bad girl | huening kai fic (nsfw)

nsfw, mdni!

pairings: mean!dom kai x sub!reader, idol! kai x non!idol reader,

warnings: namecalling (slut, whore), toys used (dildo and vibrator), mutual masturbation, marking, dirty talk, cumming on tits, manhandling if you squint, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms

a/n: the hyuka brain rot i’m going through rn isn’t even a joke atp…after watching their latest vlog i’m questioning my loyalty to beomgyu 😩

also requests are open! please feel free to leave any requests/ comments or just anything!

He didn’t like you playing with yourself. The thought of you coming over your own fingers instead of his was his biggest nightmare. Even though you knew this, you couldn’t help but grow your collection of dildos and vibrators for you to use whenever he wasn’t there. When he was away on tour for months at a time, you failed to heed to his explicit instructions and stuff yourself with your pink, silicon dildo time and time again. You were lucky so far for not getting caught but he’d found them today. You had shoved them in your underwear drawer and when he was searching through it to steal your panties for him to jerk off on while on tour, his rage was visible on his face when you walked out of your shower. 

“You’ve been a very bad girl haven’t you? Such a slut that she can’t even wait 2 months for an orgasm?” 

“Kai…I can explain…”

“Shut that mouth, slut! You don’t deserve to speak.” He holds up your favourite dildo and purple vibration, both looking small in his hands. “Is this what you’ve been cumming on?” 

Even though he was yelling, his anger was evident in his tone. Unable to respond, you clutch the towel around your body a little bit tighter, not knowing what he was going to do to you.” 

“Answer me you whore! Is this what you’ve been cumming on?” 

You nod frantically, “Yes….” 

“Wanna show me how you use it? I know you want to.” He inches closer, waving your toys in front of your eyes. The ridges of the dildo instantly turning you on as your cunt recreates the familiar sensations, pulsing hopelessly over nothing. 

“Is this turning you on slut?” He scoffs, “Unbelievable.” 

He had such a good read of you that he knew instantly that the minute your lips part and the gaze of your eyes shift, you were getting wet. 

Pushing you onto the edge of the bed, he locks his hands with yours, your vibrator being the only thing that separates the contact between both your palms. He removes his hands away from yours and starts pulls of his t-shirt in one swift move and sits on the leather armchair opposite you. 

“Fuck yourself just like you’ve always done. I wanna see how much of a whore you are.” 

The towel had already come undone at this point, leaving you bare and exposed in front of him. Even if he’s already seen you in this state multiple times before, you felt the presence of the butterflies in your stomach and your muscles were tight. You begin by sticking two fingers in your mouth gathering saliva which leaks out onto your firm, perky breasts upon removal. You use the wetness in your hand to rub up and down your dildo, preparing it before teasing your entrance with the tip. 

“Kai, just put it- !” You yell, out of habit before controlling your thoughts as your eyes are now shut. 

“You still think of me, do you? Dreaming of my cock pounding into you when I’m away?” His slew of words only turned you on more as you open your eyes to see him palming himself through his jeans. 

You slowly increase the pace and grab ahold of your vibrator in the other hand, turning it on with ease. Switching it on to the lowest setting, you place it onto your clit a wave of ecstasy washing over you, immediately reaching your first orgasm of the night. 

“Fuck! Kai! I ne- need you deeper!” You moan pathetically, continuing to display your usual masturbation routine whilst Kai is now sliding his hand up and down his hard cock. 

“So horny for me aren’t you babe? Bet it doesn’t feel as good as the real thing though,” he smirks, both getting off on the thought of your actions but also slightly jealous that you came over the dildo instead of his dick. 

“Kai give…give me!”

“Give you what? Tell me exactly what you want,” he says in between his harsh grunts. 

“I want you to fuck me Kai. For real.” 

“Such a slut aren’t you. Using a fucking dildo to get off and you still want my cock?” 

He stands up from the chair and he picks you up, pushing you further up the bed. On all fours, he traps you in between his arms as his lips crash onto yours filled with nothing but lust and eagerness. His palms kneed your left boob, your breath hitching as he chuckles into the kiss. His lips then move to your jaw leaving a trail of bites and kisses along your neck, collarbone until it reaches the valley between your tits. He kisses each boob, slightly sucking on your delicate skin, leaving reddish purple marks on either side. Not stopping there he contributes further down until your stomach, marking up the plush of your lower stomach as if it were a constellation. 

Your mind goes blank when he removes all contact form your body and slams his length into you with no warning as your left gasping for air. Your throat tightens as you feel the intensity of his pounding rise along your spine until it reaches your brain which is numb from the overwhelming sensation. His dick was much longer and girthier than your dildo, stretching out your pussy much more. His fingers also circles around your clit acting as a vibrator, as you squirm under him. 

“You like that don’t you? Like using me like your toys?” 

He pushes in deeper and harder going at a brutally rough pace, ramming against your cervix over and over. Your moans bleed out with every single slam, your eyes rolling back. The familiar knot build up again and Kai knows it’s. Your moans are a lot sharper and quicker, signifying that you’re close. 

“Cum for me slut. Be a good girl and cum.” 

As instructed, you release over his cock as your orgasm leaves your feeling dizzy. 

“Where do you want me to cum?” 

“Cum on my tits Kai.” 

He pulls out and pumps his dick over your chest and within seconds spurts of white cum coat your perfectly round boobs. Kai swipes his finger over your nipple before shoving it into your mouth and you’re left sucking his finger dry, tasting his sweet cum. 

“What a cumslut. Now I know what you’ve been up to when I’m away.” 

“I’m sorry babe. I just miss you and need to feel you. I won’t do it again I promise. I’ll even throw out my toys.” 

“No need. Next time you touch yourself and use your toys just call me or FaceTime me. I wanna see your face when you cum over that dildo as you’re thinking of me.” 

[domreader-headcannon-scenarios]

This BECANE SO LONGI’m not proofreading…

Leviathan x Reader x Foras

Cw Reader cucks Leviathan with a servant who is ‘cloaked, slight dub con voyerism, slight dub con hand job, Public stuff, teasing, spur of the moment threesome

-

It was a rare sight to see Leviathan so livid, yet, no one was hurt, quite the opposite actually.

While you sat in another person’s lap, right in front you sat Leviathan, your partner. He was watching you ride a random (to him) demon while he’s left naked and tied up, unable to even touch himself as he watches you.

The demon with you was using Foras’ ability, he knew that, but he wasn’t certain if, it was in fact, his most trusted and loyal servant. He growled, baring his teeth at the thought.

If it wasn’t humiliating enough to be exposed to one of his minions like this, he didn’t even know which one it was.

He tried to stay quiet, even as the sound of your flesh slapping against yours, he tried to listen to any sound they make, thinking he could use it to identify them. He even closes his eyes to focus better, but right as he thinks he can hear their voice.

You must have noticed since with take advantage of the fact he cant see with his eyes closed, and land a harsh slap on his defenseless groin, getting lucky hit and hitting just below the base, getting his cock and balls.

“Ah! The h-hell was that for?” He groans, glaring at you as the throbbing between his legs got worse. He needed to cum, but he wanted to focus on the man penetrating you. After-all, it’s not like he could ask someone else about this.

As king, he refuses to go to his minions and ask ‘Do you know the demon that cucked me?’ Or anything along those lines.

His attention is once again pulled away from the other demon while you grab the base of his cock, squeezing it in an agonizingly tight grip.

Leviathan hates the pathetic moan he lets out, to his humiliation if it wasn’t for your hand, he’d have cum from just a tight squeeze.

“Focus on the show, Levi.”

You teased him, to his horror his cock bobbed, letting all three of you see how much he enjoys this. To his surprise the other male demon whines, on instinct his attention is drawn to look where the man’s face would be (judging by the noise) and he realizes by your position…

You are letting the other demon lay his upper body on yours, chest to back…that demons weight is on you…

He snarls without noticing, getting caught off guard with another slap to his groin.

But you released the grip on his cock, Leviathan let out a surprised whine as he cums.

He looks at his cock in horror. Is he truly so depraved he just got off to being slapped, twice?

He threw his head back in frustration, thrusting forwards subconsciously.

He needs to kill the demon your with!

He cant let ANY of his subordinates see him like this!

As he’s throwing a mini tantrum. He suddenly stops, a thought clicking in his head. He looks begrudgingly between your legs.

You’d been cruel, allowing him to see to see your body opening for the invisible cock.

He’s seen how you stretch for his own cock, and the demon your riding right now, is smaller than him.

He feels his own cock twitch as a small sense of pride fills him.

That’s…all he can recognize, he knows it isn’t Glaysa, given the size…but that leaves so many demons.

He groans internally…trying to estimate the general size of the cock. Leviathan thinks to himself he could…’inspect’ his subordinates, he doesn’t need a reason, he knows his subordinates would let him do anything…

His eyes twitch as he sees cum drip from your opening…

That’s it…he is definitely punishing whoever this is.

To dare to penetrate you in front of him, watch him be humiliated, THEN to cum INSIDE you…

Leviathan bites his lip as he suppressed a growl. He can faintly hear low moans escaping the demon, the tone…he knows it’s one of his devils, one of the 72.

He knows Foras is the only one who can make anyone invisible…he’d have to ‘inspect’ him first.

He loses his thoughts once more as he sees you clenching down in the invisible cock, he realizes that you have climaxed too. On the other males cock.

He grimaced at the thought. He collapsed against the bed, knowing he’s not going to be untied until the other make gets a good head start.

He watches as they slip out of you, their cock covered in cum, a mix of both of yours. You help him clean up, using a cloth to clean the cum off him and yourself. Levithan can hear the grunt from the demon as you nearly stroke his cock while getting the essences of you both off him.

Leviathan’s eyes narrow as the other demon leaves while he’s still tied, and you’re cleaning him up. Leviathan moans, feeling you take his cock into your hand and rather roughly rubbing it dry. He can hear the door to his room open and close, but you still wait to untie him. By the time you start to untie him, he realizes it would be too late to find the minion right away…

He’d have to run around the palace and find the nearest demons…he can ‘inspect’ them, if he’s fast enough he might find them…but…you’re holding him while untying him, leaving him wanting to stay…

Hell, he will search later…he knows if he takes off you’d probably chase after him…

-

The following day, Levithan had made a plan to isolate nearly all his followers, and check them, his first would of course be Foras, as he could outright ask him who he helped hide, or even if it was him.

Levithan’s blood boiled at the thought…true he made the order that none of his demons were allowed ALONE with you…he should have ordered them to not be allowed to touch you like that…

He finds his target fast enough. Foras is alone like usual, he shoved Foras against a wall, blocking his exits.

“Last night. Were you the one who was with me and (M/c)? If it wasn’t, I need to know now who it was.”

Leviathan growled out, when Foras flinched back against the wall and offered no info he decided plan b was his only option…

He unzipped Foras’s pants, reaching in and pulling down his underwear enough to reveal his cock. Foras jumped and tried to push his hands away, or at least tuck his cock away before his king could see it.

“You’re Majesty! W-what is going on? W-why are you-“

Foras gasped and was caught off as to his horror Levithan was stroking him. In a public hall.

“I saw how they stretched, I have a rough estimate of their size. Get hard faster.”

Leviathan said as if it was an order. Foras heard footsteps coming and wanted to hide…but he couldn’t…not with Leviathan keeping a watchful eye on him.

“Your Majesty Leviathan…please I hear someone coming.” Foras whimpered out. He didn’t even get a reaction form Levithan, until he felt Levithan squeeze him with near crushing force, his cock visibly deflating from its barely hard state and going limp.

He didn’t need to hear Levithan speak to know he’d been caught.

“It was you, wasn’t it?”

Leviathan growled, squeezing his subordinates cock torturously, he ignored the footsteps getting closer. He towered over Foras, looking down upon him as Foras visibly shrank.

Leviathan stepped in front of Foras to hide his exposed genitals, still in Levithan’s hand as he hid his servants shame from the person walking in.

Levithan instantly tightened his grip even more so as he sees you walking through the door. He debates releasing Foras and punishing him later but you waltz on over smiling.

You had to have been suspicious he’d do this as without hesitation he sees you aiming to separate him from Foras, you stop though seeing Levithan’s hand…on Foras’s cock, which was completely limp, red at the tip undoubtedly from the the pressure trapped in it.

“What did I miss?” You force Levithan to release Foras, having to physically pry his hand off. “Leviathan, I didn’t know you like cock…I’d have invited someone sooner if I knew.”

You tease, to get his attention on you, and to pull attention away from Foras. Leviathan growls.

“It was him, I saw how big he was while you rode him. He shouldnt have touched you.” Levithan snarls. “I’m going to punish hi-“

Leviathan stops and watches as you drop to your knees in front of Foras, gently kissing his cock, kissing the bruises Levithan left.

“Stop.”

Leviathan said, in a low rasp in his voice as you see surprise and anger across his face. “You…how long have you two been?” He says…seemingly more upset seeing how Foras is getting hard so fast from you, while he struggled to get his minion erect.

He wanted to pull you two apart but…seeing you two made him ache, he wanted to be involved, not push Foras away and have you for himself…

Maybe he needed to fuck around with Foras to feel better?

After that thought he approaches you two, grabbing his hand and placing it over his lap, right as you take Foras’ cock into your mouth. Foras whimpers in confusion, accepting both the roles he’s being pushed in.

He tries to stroke Levithan. He tries to mirror how you touch him, he has never…done this kind of thing…he knows how to touch himself but not another male.

You hum in approval, before you could do anything else Foras spoke up. “Please, can you two please…wait till we are in private?”

Leviathan scoffed and growled at him.

“You can just make us invisible if anyone comes.”

You do stop even as Levithan argues. “We should, I’d like to be on a more comfortable area too.” You get up, helping them both tuck themselves away.

Leviathan dragged you two to his bedroom, throwing Foras onto the bed and placing you down. When Foras attempted to move back Leviathan grabbed him and pulled him back.

“Levi, gentle.” You ordered, slapping his cock as payback. Leviathan groaned in response, letting go of Foras. Foras looked to you with a mix of respect and admiration. Leviathan seemed to get more agitated at that.

“Thank you, (M/c). I appreciate i-it.” He gently wrapped an arm around you, only to get pulled closer to Levithan. “Y-your Majesty?”

Leviathan push him with force down against the bed, getting between his legs. “Have a seat.” He says to you, helping you straddle Foras. Said demon whimpers as you are seated against his cock, you two quickly remove his clothes, leaving you seated on his cock.

Foras is flushed realizing quickly that Leviathan is punishing him with you not knowing. He knows your not gonna let him inside you just to avoid an outburst from Leviathan…and Leviathan was teasing him by not letting him have you…

You roll your hips against his cock, enjoying the friction. Leviathan on the other hand lifts up Foras’ hips and slips himself rather quickly and half hazardly into Foras, earning a whimper. While your movements are gentle, pleasant movements, Leviathans’ are rough and careless.

The dual stimulation made Foras whimper, turning invisible to hide his blushing. Of course the two of you don’t need to see him to keep going, and in seconds you feel a familiar wetness between your legs you glance down to see cum pouring from his invisible cock. Foras is whimpering and gasping, you hear Levithan growl as he thrust faster.

“There we go…that feels better.” Leviathan teasingly moaned, leaning into you. Leviathan grins down at Foras as he places his weight into you while you rub yourself against Foras. Leviathan locks eyes with him over your shoulder and Foras freezes realizing.

Leviathan is mimicking how he was leaning on you last night…to prove to Foras he can’t have you only to himself.

-

[inkedtae]

iii. howlin’ ⇾ bgc. [M]

chapter three : ringin’, howlin’ ⤑ ❝ chan gazes up at you, eyes gleaming with that unidentifiable emotion as he declares, “i am pathetically in love with you.” ❞

⇽ prev. | masterlist 

⌁ pairing; alpha!bang chan x alpha!reader (f.)

⌁ genre; established relationship, secret lovers, werewolf au, soulmate au, angst, smut, 18+

⌁ word count; 19.1k

⌁ warnings; switch!chan, ass enthusiast!chan, big dicc!chan, (chan is also a total simp for reader), switch!reader, (reader is highkey thick/curvy), rough sex, break up sex, handjob, oral (f./m. receiving), degradation, some masturbation, daddy kink, praise kink, size kink, dirty talk, biting, knotting, hair pulling, choking, lots of cockwarming, spanking, cum play, a bit of spit play

⌁ 🎧 now playing... ✩

❥ prefer ao3? keep reading here

❥ a special thanks to fleur ( @editsbyfleur ) for making this lovely banner for me and to my girl jen ( @anobodyslove​​ ) for editing and beta reading this monstrous fic for me! you are amazing and i am so lucky to call you my friend 💕

You don’t want to open your eyes. Last night is a lump in your throat searing through all your emotions.

When you returned from Chan’s apartment, you debated about going out to get some air. There’s a twenty-four-hour convenience store just around the corner. They sell those stale honeybuns you like and piping hot tea that always burns your tongue. Sometimes it’s all you can afford, and life post-college is not as lucrative as you were once promised. Chan would always offer to take you somewhere fancier. You always refused, preferring the sturdy walls of the rotting convenience store. You wanted to go last night but didn’t want to risk him following you.

Instead, you laid in bed all night, folded into yourself and hidden under the sheets. You tried to stop crying, but every inch of you only craved him. Though you knew the party would prevent him from checking on you, a part of you hoped you were wrong. You hoped he took what you had said seriously, leaving the safety of Changbin’s room for yours.

He never did.

You coil into yourself again now, trying hard not to throw up. You swallow that lump thickly and take a deep breath. Everything hurts. All over, your body tingles with dull pain. Parts of you are shattered for not having been touched and others from being overstimulated. Your clit seems to be experiencing both, faintly aching. You’re not exactly turned on but not turned off either. The underside of your stomach cramps too, spreading a silent discomfort around your torso.

There is a little pounding in your trembles, heaviness to your bones. You can practically feel the energy drain from your body with every thought of him. He’s not here to cuddle you to sleep, to coddle all your worries away and soothe every twinge of pain. He’s not here to be yours. Why are you still craving him? You know he doesn’t deserve it.

You screw your eyes tight and allow your exhaustion to take over.

Slowly, emptiness consumes you.

— — —

Rain falls. You hear the muted patters against the window.

Chan loves the rain. He’d call you over and sneak you into his room, with snacks and a movie ready. He’d insist you sit on his lap or lay between his legs as he held you. He’d laugh quietly in your ear, lips tucked against your earlobe, during all the funny moments and hold you tighter during all the sweeter ones. When something dangerous flashes on the screen, he’d pull you closer. He’d never said it, but you knew he would never let anything bad happen to you. That little tug of your body towards his was proof enough.

Even with this faint pang of pain in your stomach, further soiling the taste of your own tongue, you still crave some chocolate-coated popcorn.

You slowly open your eyes. Light peeks through your curtains. It’s a bluish-grey, dimly illuminating the room enough for you to know it’s not quite the end of the day yet. You’re not sure how long you’ve been sleeping. It almost feels as though it hasn’t even been five minutes since you had fallen back asleep.

Unwrapping yourself from your sheets, you search around your bed for your phone. You can’t remember if you fell asleep with it beside you or if you put it  on your night table. You pat your mattress down around yourself, until you feel it wedged under your back. You pull it out to check the time only to find it’s dead.

With a sigh, you reach out to put it on the charger. The overdue stretch releases some of the tension in your fatigued muscles. You take it as a moment to lay back and further stretch your arms and legs out, slowly turning your wrists to crack your stiff bones. It doesn’t sound as satisfying as it feels. Your body isn’t as heavy anymore though, some degree of energy returning to you.

CRASH!

You sit up to the sound of  glass breaking. A flurry of whispered demands exchange between your roommates. It’s always something with them. If they are not breaking furniture, then they are rearranging it. You once walked in after work one day to find that they redecorated the living room to make a maze.

“It’s a livable maze!” Jeongin corrected, popping out from somewhere in the middle.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You can live in it!” Seungmin excitedly added, peeking out of the makeshift door they made. It wasn’t lost on you that they had used the clean sheets you washed the night before.

You crawled through their weakly structured tunnels, trying to convince them that this was a terrible idea the entire weekend. Minho eventually lost his patience when he stubbed his toe on the edge of the couch. He couldn’t see it under layers of wrinkled bed sheets. The maze collapsed as he walked right through it.

You rub your temples, drawing out of the memory. You attempt to calm yourself down with the reassuring fact that they are probably trying to clean and something must have slipped out of—

SMASH!

Twice in less than a minute is concerning.

Pushing off your covers, you scoot out of bed. You throw on a hoodie and some shorts as their hushed voices become sharper. You shuffle towards the door. Silence settles when you open it. A myriad of scents wash over you, intensifying the ache in your temples. Between what smells like baked cookies, you can sniff out the mixed scents of all your friends.

Your eyes take a moment to adjust to the light. You rub them with the heel of your palm when you pop your head out of your room. Seungmin looks down the hall at you. Still in his pyjamas, he hugs a pastel green mixing bowl against his chest, his other hand clutching onto a silver whisk.

“You guys okay?” you ask, voice groggy.

Seungmin nods, parting his lips to reassure you when you hear Changbin’s sing-songy voice instead.

“Good morning!” he calls, triggering a chorus of ‘good mornings.’ However, his voice carries on an all too long melody. A sudden thump silences him, not a moment too soon, giving your ears a second of peace.

A smile plays on Seungmin’s face, cute eyes gleaming with amusement before he corrects. “It’s almost five.”

Your eyes widen. You figured you were out for a while but didn’t think you slept that long. Have they been trying to be quiet this whole time or did they just arrive?

You shuffle down the hall to properly gauge who exactly is here,  nostrils too overwhelmed to distinguish specific scents.

The living room has been redecorated into a makeshift bedroom. With the couches pushed back and out of the way, Changbin and Jeongin have lined up four blankets and pillows as beds. You raise a brow and turn towards the kitchen to ask what’s going on, but your words get lost as you catch Felix sweeping up broken glass, Hyunjin washing dishes and Seungmin dumping a whole pack of chocolate chips into his bowl.

“Did I miss something?”

“You mean besides the whole day?” Seungmin teases.

“Or a comb?” Jeongin adds with a little smile as he walks by you to the kitchen.

Your friends snicker, their gazes lingering over your bed-headed hair.

On any other day, you’d probably tease them back. Changbin is wearing a shirt that’s two sizes too small and Felix obviously let his clumsiness get the best of him. The lingering ache in your stomach, however, dims your humour. You barely manage a smile as you grab a seat on the barstool, in front of the island.

Jeongin studies your expression, once playful gaze softening. He flashes a little smile when you catch him staring as if silently asking if you’re okay. It’s not like you to not toss a harmless insult back, or fall silent after receiving one. A part of you wants to tell him everything’s okay, but it will only pique everyone else’s interest and you cannot avoid all their questions or watchful gazes at once. Remaining silent might be your best option right now.

After returning the smile, you pull your attention away from Jeongin and onto Changbin as he seats himself beside you.

“We’re going to be staying here for the night,” he explains.

A chill runs down your spine. We? Who exactly is “we?”

Changbin… Jisung…

You gulp at the thought of Chan spending the night here. Smelling him so close, hearing his heartbeat through the walls… His voice and laugh are enough to make you giddy with excitement on a regular day. When you’re this frustrated with him, it only chips away at your confidence and pride. You’re going to yearn for him all the more. You won’t be able to take it, especially with this many eyes around. What makes it worse is the thought that if things were still blissfully uncertain, this would’ve been the perfect opportunity to sneak off together.

You take a deep breath as your friends slip back into their previous conversations and tasks. You just need to calm down. Maybe they might not have to stay and whatever the issue is with their apartment can get easily worked out. If all else fails, you can visit your parents for the night. Gaining some more distance from Ch— the situation might be best for the both of you, as heartbreaking as that conclusion sounds.

Stripping your tone of panic, you try to casually ask, “What happened to your apartment?”

Changbin exchanges a confused look with Jeongin and Felix. A little smile plays on his lips when he looks back at you. “Did you not hear what I said?” he asks with a little chuckle.

You look between your friends, realising they may have been talking to you this whole time and not each other. Even Hyunjin, mid-rinse by the sink, looks at you over his shoulder.

Eager to recover, you rub your eyes and force a yawn. “Sorry, still sleepy,” you excuse, “What’d you say?”

The guys seem to buy it– except for Seungmin and Jeongin. You never can get anything past your roommates, their gazes sharp and expressions blank as they study you.

“I was just saying Chan’s in heat,” he repeats.

Eyes widening, brows shooting up, you gape at Changbin. How is that even possible? Males cannot go into heat.

“No, he’s not,” you dryly chuckle.

“The blue moon messed with everyone,” Changbin shrugs.

“Sensory issues, irritability, impulsivity, overactivity, heat reversals,” Felix lists, disposing of the glass he broke. “Didn’t you see it online?”

An image of Jeongin breaking off doorknobs flashes before your eyes. He’s been having trouble controlling his strength, Chan once mentioned. Seungmin’s been up all hours of the night, with energy to burn. Felix and Hyunjin wore earplugs for nearly the whole week. Jisung and Changbin have been short-tempered, rough housing every chance they get. You and Minho almost passed out a few times due to scent exhaustion. And Chan— moody, impatient, suddenly intensely active — is now holed up in his apartment, suffering and in heat alone.

Is this why you’ve been aching? When you were researching mates earlier in your relationship, you found that if a bond is strong enough, you can subconsciously share emotions, even symptoms of sickness or heats. Your wolf must have known he was in pain, you realise. Your wolf sensed his discomfort, mildly experiencing his symptoms, and was trying to tell you.

You blink back tears, avoiding your friends’ gazes. Why didn’t he call? Why didn’t he tell you? Yes, you’re mad at him, but being in heat is hard— extremely painful if not properly tended to. If the roles were reversed, you wouldn’t even need to call him; he’d already be there for you. It doesn’t matter how upset he’d be, he’d drop everything to make sure you’re okay.

He should’ve called. 

Why the fuck hasn’t he—

“My phone’s dead,” you think aloud.

Maybe he did try to tell you but your phone’s been dead and considering you lashed out at Minho last night (who you still need to apologise to), no one has been brave enough to wake you up.

You get up, rubbing the smeared mascara and eyeliner from under your eyes. “I’ll be right back,” you say, making your way to the door.

“Where are you going?” Changbin asks. He stands from his seat with you.

“Um,” you hesitate. “There’s this drink that Chan likes. He told me before that it helps when he's feeling sick. I-I think they have it across the street.”

“Minho and Jisung already went out to buy him stuff,” Seungmin replies after putting the brownies in the oven. “You don’t need to worry about that.”

Great.

You should have seen that coming when you didn’t see either of them arguing. You keep your hand on the doorknob as a nervous sigh escapes you. “Yeah, yeah, that’s good,” you nod, pausing to swallow your nerves. “The thing is that I also forgot something in, um, the car— my car so I, um, I have to leave anyway.”

A nervous chuckle tumbles out of your lips as you open the door.

Jeongin leans over the island countertop to get a better look at you. His eyes linger on your bare feet as you step out of the apartment. He flashes a little suspicious smile, asking, “What’d you forget?”

“My…. charger?”

You catch them sharing glances.

They’re onto you.

You know it.

They know it.

Panic suffocates your chest, your heart pounding faster, working harder to calm you down. Maybe there was a better excuse to try, or a better way of handling this, but you don’t really care any more. Chan’s behaviour does not deserve your presence but you know he would never leave you aching and alone like that. He’d try to help any way he can, any way you’d let him. At the very least, you need to do the same, right?

I just miss him, your wolf whispers.

The conclusion loops in your head, festering your stomach with pathetic shame. You try to push the thought away, rubbing your brow and exhaling heavily but it continues to spew the truth little by little. It’s barely been a day and you’ve spent it sleeping because being this conscious means you have to be aware of just how far away Chan is and just how badly you want him.

“You can use mine,” Jeongin suggests.

You ignore him, already out the door. You don’t trust your voice not to betray you. The weight of it sits heavy in your throat already, clawing at your oesophagus. No matter how many times you try to gulp it away, it remains with the undeniable truth that you don’t want to leave him, that you don’t want to play a game of ultimatums.

The click of your apartment door shutting echoes in the hallway. You stare at the one across the hall, recalling the way you pushed it open last night after flirting with Kai. Straining your ears, you try to pick up the sound of his voice. You can only just hear the faint beat of his heart and the spray of the shower. You wonder if it’s breaking as much as yours.

You take a step forward.

How will he perceive you after last night, after he might have tried to call you? He’s stuck in heat, emotions awry and high. You don’t know if he’d be upset or relieved. Would he even want you here? Is this a good idea?

Your hand hovers over the doorknob.

You should at least try, right? You should walk in there and try to offer some help. Whether he takes it or not is up to him. As long as you did what you think is right, what he would do for you if the roles were reversed, then you can walk back into your room guilt free.

With a turn of the knob, you take a deep breath and open the door.

A hot wave of pure cedar and peppercorn burns your nostrils. Stumbling to regain your balance, Chan’s scent,  overpowered by adrenaline and drenched in frenzied pheromones, knocks you back. You reach for the door frame to keep yourself stable. An appetite for him grows, festering in the base of your stomach. Every inhale makes you clench. Your core, wet and aching, tightens and relaxes in anticipation as if preparing for his length. 

Heart hammering, you turn your head away from the apartment and take a deep breath. The scent is still thick, your attempts at avoiding it useless. It almost smells as though he hasn’t gotten off at all, still pent up with desire and frustration. Along with reversing the cycle, the blue moon must have strengthened it too, forcing a week’s worth of arousal in twenty-four hours. 

And it’s not going to get any easier standing here with the door wide open. With his alpha pheromones at their peak, you’re sure they’ll eventually attract someone’s attention.

Wiping the drool from the corner of your lips, you let out a shaky breath and quickly enter his apartment. You make sure to shut the door behind you, carefully leaning your back against it. 

He’s in the shower now, the muffled spray of the water greeting you. 

Good– it gives you some time to get yourself together. You shut your eyes and try to remember that you’re just here because it’s the right thing to do. This doesn’t change how you feel about the way he’s been acting. This doesn’t change how serious you were— are.

You lick your lips before a hushed profanity escapes you. Your chin is still wet with your saliva. You hurriedly wipe it away with the back of your hand, panting like a starved dog.

How the fuck am I going to get through this alive?

With the squeaking turn of the tap, the shower stops. Your attention snaps down the hall, to the muted sound of the glass door as it screeches open. You hear the drips of water fall on the floor from his naked body, the soft pads of his feet as he shuffles through the bathroom. If you try hard enough, you can catch the soft ruffle of his towel against his curls.

And then you hear it, a soft groan, a silent squelch. You push yourself off the door and take a couple of steps towards the bathroom, eager to hear more of his frustration and what it has manifested itself into.

You should probably say something, right? Announce yourself? He might be your mate, but eavesdropping on him getting off is still wrong…right?

“Fuck…” Chan moans in a hushed tone.

You clamp your hand over your mouth to hold back your own sounds. A shiver rushes down your spine. Brows furrowing, eyes watering, you press your thighs together. Feeling dizzy with lust, your knees almost give out. You reach out to the nearest wall and lean against it to stabilise yourself.

The bathroom door squeaks open and you catch Chan’s nearly naked frame through the narrow crack of the ajar door. His buff chest gleams with fresh drops of water, curly hair damp and pushed back. His scent is not only stronger now, but wet.

It is not the potent scent of arousal that shatters you, however. Rather, it is his swollen face. Dark circles, tear-stained cheeks, red tint of his pale skin, brittleness of his dry lips– he is broken. 

Your wolf shudders. Needing to shield him from any further pain, you want to wrap him in your embrace. You want to engulf him in your scent, knowing the smell of you will at least ease the tremors of his aching heart– you can hear it thudding in his chest, beating fast and almost uneven. You want to run your hands along his broad back and strong arms, soothing his nerves long enough to lay him down and finally relieve that throb between his legs. 

Your instincts rage against your stubbornness, brewing storms of guilt deep in your chest. You hold your ground, however, curling your hands into fists.

Chan takes one deep breath and snaps his attention to you. His eyes are bloodshot, drowning with disbelief and remorse. 

Your knees buckle, throat dry. 

While Chan is to blame for your drastic words, your chest still festers with guilt, knowing you haven’t made this any easier. You edged him last night, only to leave him blue balled and begging. You ignored him all day too while he suffered alone. Not even his hand is cutting it anymore, you realise, noting the abandoned attempt to jerk off a couple of seconds ago. This is your fault.

Forcing yourself to stand straight, you start, “I—”

The slam of the door cuts you off.

You stand still for a moment, stunned and confused. Sure, you didn’t expect him to run into your arms. Some relieved acknowledgment might have been nice though. Had he not been thinking about you? How else had he been able to get off? You remember the countless nights when neither of you could risk sneaking out to see each other but were rendered a mess of horny emotions. Chan would call you once he was sure everyone was sleeping. He couldn’t get off until he heard your voice.

And now, he can’t even stand to look at you, hiding away in a humid bathroom.

The click of the lock draws you out of your thoughts.

“What are you doing here?” he asks through the door. His voice is strained, no doubt tired from moaning and growling.

The thought of him doing so in your ear makes you tremble. Breath shaky, you inch closer towards the door.

“My phone was dead,” you begin.

His silence reminds you just how useless that explanation is without context.

“So, I didn’t know. I didn’t see your texts. Changbin actually just told me. They’re all staying across the hall, but you probably already know that,” you chuckle, twisting the hem of your shirt. “So, my phone died and I just…” you trail off, realising you’re repeating yourself.

You can hear Chan’s rapid heart beat on the other side of the door and his little huffs and puffs as he tries to calm himself down. 

Suppressing a defeated sigh, body now aching from the fragility of his voice, you shut your eyes and swallow thickly. You take a step closer, now almost pressed against the wood. With a part of your lips, you’re about to tell him you came to help.

“I didn’t text,” he admits in a mutter, voice heavy with regret.

“Oh.”

Maybe he doesn’t need you after all. Maybe you’re the one too attached to him and can’t let go. You could barely last a day before running back into his arms, foolishly thinking they would be open for you. Blinking back tears, you swallow thickly.

“I just didn’t think it was fair,” he explains. His voice strains, almost breaking.

You pause.

“You made yourself clear last night and you were right,” you hear him shift his weight before he continues, “I don’t deserve to call you mine when I’ve been treating you this way.”

Though you want to hate it, you’re relieved to find that your assumptions were wrong. Of course, you don’t want Chan to get hurt, but a little toxic part of you is almost glad your harsh words have made an impression. You’re glad you’re not the only one craving his presence and yearning for his touch, his scent, his being intertwined with yours.

“We don’t need to discuss that right now. I just came to help you through this heat. And—”

A muted growl cuts you off.

You can hear the pound of his heart clearly now, the rush of blood coursing through his veins as his wolf’s nails scratch at the door.

Shit, can he smell you? Is it driving him crazy?

You try to fight the silent satisfaction that beams in your chest, biting back a smile. Are you just that horny or purely insane to feel this much excitement about his torture? There’s just something about being in control and knowing that he needs you, that you are essential to his survival.

“I think it would be best if you left,” he finally sighs.

It would be, you should reply before leaving.

You just cannot bring yourself to follow through, let alone utter the words. There’s a muted twinge of pain in your pelvis and vague nausea in the pit of your stomach. The scent of his pheromones only intensify the discomfort in your bones. When you try to swallow your desires away, you feel a vacancy in your throat that just begs to be filled and tested by an all too wide girth. Your entire body craves the satisfaction of an earth-shattering orgasm spilling in your mouth, leaking from the corners of your lips.

Even if your life depends on it, you cannot not find the ability to leave. So, you latch onto that pathetic, measly reason that brought back you to his apartment.

“Would you leave?” You ask. “If I was in heat and you were upset with me, would you leave me here alone?”

Silence.

You merely catch little hisses followed by a thick gulp. He’s in unimaginable pain and would rather endure it than let you help him. Maybe your words have stuck; maybe he is really starting to believe you when you say you’re leaving. And being here could undermine it all, yet he doesn’t let it. He knows you were serious last night and must be considering your presence as obligatory.

And it is. But, you cannot ignore the lingering pain below your stomach and your wolf won’t let you forget just how much you love him either. He’s your best friend. He’s the person you feel safest with, someone who wouldn’t care about anger when he knows you’re hurt. So, even without certainty from your wolf that you belong together, you’d still find your way back to him.

“Let’s pretend everyone knows,” you whisper. “Let’s pretend we didn’t fight.”

“I want everyone to know,” he says, pausing to inhale deeply, “I—”

“Just open the door,” you plead.

The lock clicks, but the door remains closed. You hear a little shuffle, a nervous heart beat.

“Are you sure?”

“When it comes to you, I’m always sure,” you whisper.

He opens the door, peering at you from the crack. One look and he shakes his head, about to shut the door again. “This is a bad ide-”

You push it open with all your strength. He stumbles back; you rush forward. Arms wrapped around his neck, you press yourself against his wet body and let your lips collide.

Your heart raptures. His breath gives you life. The deprivation of his essence reminds you that you have probably found each other in every lifetime. Your love collides like planets, aimlessly floating, yearning to become one.

Chan cups your face, his hands shaky yet firm, like he cannot believe it himself but wants to. You can almost feel the ache of his body radiate onto yours. It makes you quiver with want as your legs press together.

His nose brushes against yours when he breaks the kiss, breath rapid and lips wet. He searches your eyes for even more certainty, desperate to ensure that this really is what you want. His gaze then flickers back to your lips.

Kissing him was a mistake, you realise. It was too intimate, too magical. You feel obligated to help him through this unusual heat in honour of your friendship and bond. And that should be where it ends. You cannot let yourself get lost in world-altering kisses.

So, before he can close the gap between you again, you dive towards his neck.

You planned to plant open mouthed kisses under his jawline as he flexes it for you. However, you stupidly forgot just how strong his scent is around his neck. It’s where the majority of it seeps out and intoxicates you. The moment your nose is smothered against his skin, you cannot control yourself.

Your eyes widen, pussy clenches as your arousal stains your inner thighs. Digging your nails into his biceps, you moan loudly and drag your tongue over his sensitive skin. He smells so good but tastes even better. You feel the vibrations of his growls against your tongue, eyes rolling back as your face flushes with pride.

Chan urgently pushes you back against the wall. You don’t have time to tell him that he needs to rest, quietly grunting from the impact. He’ll only further torment himself if he attempts to take control– you know from experience. 

In a breath, however,  he has pushed your shorts down and spread your legs, cupping your pussy. He chokes on his next intake of air and you’re not sure if it’s because of your wetness, or the intoxicating heat of it all invading his senses. But Chan is on his knees. He smothers his face between your legs, growling the moment the tip of his nose presses against your clit. The sinful sound of his slurping, the rushed drag of his tongue, makes you tremble. You tangle your fingers in his hair, resting one of your legs on his shoulder.

He grips onto your ass, pushing your pelvis up in his face. Starved, you’d think it’s been weeks since you’ve had a taste of each other and not mere hours. Shaking his head, he slurps on your arousal as his nose rubs against your clit. You squeal, toes curling. His warm tongue glides up and down between your folds before he latches around your clit. He harshly sucks, flicking it with the tip of his tongue. A loud moan tears through your throat as you throw your head back. He’s usually not this rough when you’re standing, knowing you can’t hold yourself up for very long. He doesn’t seem to care this time, even going as far as nibbling on the little nub only to lick the sting away.

“Ch-Chan,” you start, only for his finger to slide inside you.

“Cum on my tongue,” he mutters against your clit, voice raspy and slightly frayed.

You can’t find it in you to tell him to slow down. He’s the one who is overstimulated, cock painfully hard between his legs. He’s the one in heat. You shouldn’t be the one showered with attention this aggressively.  

However, with his fingers deep in you, slighting curling forward, you seem to forget how to speak. All you think about, all you feel are his long fingers, his hot mouth. You throw your head back. Your moan cracks into a high pitched whine as you cum. Body shaking, hips jutting out against his face, you gush all over his mouth.

Chan wastes no time replacing his finger with his tongue, reaching deep inside you to gather every last drop. He growls, sinks his fingers into the fat of your ass, forcing you to stay still against his face.

It’s then that you realise, while he may be aching under that thin towel and so urgently craves the comfort of your care, he needs this right here– your body, your heat, your taste. He needs to feel you melt in his hands, to react to his touch.  And while you desperately want to give him whatever he needs, your placating alpha merely wanting to satisfy all his urges, you don’t think you can endure another second of this overstimulation.

“Chan,” you cry, tugging at his hair to push him away. “P-please!”

He flattens his tongue and slowly drags it up your folds before finally pulling away. He gives you a second to catch your breath as he gets back on his feet. Chest heaving, he towers over you, chin and cheeks glistening from your arousal. His nose is particularly shiny from the way he shoved it against your clit. He brushes it against yours, hands gripping your ass. You catch a strong whiff of your thick scent. He spanks you, smirking when you whine.

You part your lips, about to suggest continuing in his room. You can lay him down there and ride all this frustration out of him.

However, Chan is not interested in leaving the hallway just yet. He pulls your shirt up and off then turns you towards the wall. You already know what he wants, having been caught between his frame and the wall multiple times before. His favourite position is your face against any hard surface, preferably standing, with your ass perked up behind you. Spreading your legs, you arch your back the way he likes and press your face to the wall. 

Chan lets a hard hand come down on your ass once, twice, lowly chuckling as you jolt forward and whine from the impact. He quickly rubs the stinging skin, then pushes your cheeks up to align himself. Lips attached to your shoulder, he sloppily peppers your skin in wet kisses and pushes himself in. You feel his jaw drop against your neck; the deep groan he emits resonates down your spine. You squirm, gasping from the stretch of his thick length.

You remember thinking you were so naïve for believing you can take him the first time he fucked you. He asked you if you were sure three times and you begged him to just push himself in already, not able to properly see him in the dark car. Your eyes rolled back, just like they do now. You lost your voice then too. It happens every time. Your pussy aches for it, but he always fills you more than you expect. You always think you’d get used to the stretch, the depth he can reach, to the mere speed he adopts. You never can, however, especially when you're standing. Your legs weaken, trembling from the stimulation. It’s even more exhilarating in the shower, all wet and slippery. Chan has to pay extra attention to keep you from falling, usually holding you firmly against him.

“Fuck,” he groans, lips pressed to your earlobe. He draws back a couple of inches and pushes into you again. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he must feel your knees buckle from the depth of his voice, the agonisingly slow progression of his thrusts.

“I can cum in you right now,” he confesses.

You pathetically whine, whimpering like wounded prey. “Please!” you find yourself moaning. “Please, daddy!”

You swear you feel his hips quiver before his thrusts snap into action. They smack against your ass, practically applauding your pussy. His moans fill the spaces between the claps, loud, feral and breathless. And with his lips pressed to the shell of your ear, you feel each wave vibrate down each vertebrate and settle into your bones. His gruff groans embed in your flesh like a tattoo, forever scarring you as his. Others may not know but, as much as you want to, you cannot deny that every part of you belongs to him. From the way he grips onto one of your breasts and buries himself in you, there is no denying he belongs to you either. And it makes the thought of having to leave him even more heartbreaking.

So, for the sake of his heat, you pretend you have been bitten. You pretend you have been marked as his mate, solidifying the bond between you and becoming one. You pretend you aren’t disappointed and let yourself sink into this feeling of finally belonging. Pushing back against him, you throw your head back against his shoulder and cry out his name. Your voice is practically a squeal, trembling and desperate– just how he likes it.

Chan cups your drenched core. A low growl rumbles from his chest and against your back. He smirks, your earlobe between his teeth as he tugs. The constant simulation gathers tears in your eyes. You shutter against him, scratching at the wall.

“Cum with me,” he whispers, voice raspy. “Cum on my cock, princess.”

Your moans cinch at the base of your throat. You screech as your orgasm tremors through you. Chan hums a pleased moan as you gush around him, pussy flexing with each wave. He suddenly keeps you extremely still, his finger still rubbing fast circles around your clit though. His cock twitches before unloading. You feel it move against your walls, his warm cum curling your toes.

His groans are loud and fraught. He pulls out only to forcefully thrust himself back in, keen on draining every drop in you.

You lean against the wall, limp. Breathes jagged, you try to push his hand away from your clit, the ongoing simulation proving painful.

“Stop squirming,” he gently orders, trailing sloppy kisses along your shoulder blade. “You’re going to fall.”

You can only manage a whine, nudging his hand away again. He finally yields. Your hips still quiver though.

Chan quietly chuckles against your shoulder. “You should have told me it was too much,” he murmurs, not nearly as breathless as you.

Your chest heaves. You shoot him a playfully pointed glare over your shoulder, sighing, “You can’t be serious.”

He just laughs, burying his face in the crook of your neck. He swallows breathfuls of your scent, allowing the familiarity and comfort of everything you are to calm his erratic heart. Showering you with small kisses, he mutters against your skin,“God, you’re so cute. Lemme carry you.”

“It’s oka– Ah!” you begin.

Chan pulls his still hard cock out, the spark of friction cutting you off with a gasp. His arms remain firm around you to keep you steady, and you don’t realise how weak your legs really are until he shifts back half an inch and you wobble against the wall. He carries you like a bride in his arms, smirking to himself at the damage he’s caused. 

Your inner wolf simmers with irritation, resonating a peeved growl from the pit of your stomach. His face glistens with your arousal, skin scenting of your peach, sandalwood scent, and he still has the audacity to smirk like he’s ruined you, as if a little buckle of your knees can be any indication.

“Put me down.”

His arrogance wavers at the sound of your velvety voice, at how it brims with authority. The playfulness that once twinkled in his gaze darkens. He tongues his cheek, like the rise of your alpha has threatened his own. Mischief now gleams in his eyes and drops you on his bed.

You squeal, bouncing on his mattress.

He bites his lip but chuckles anyway, tilting his head to admire your curves.

“I told you to stop doing that!” You want to sound annoyed, grappling for your previous control. However, upon the sound of his deep laughter, you cannot swallow your own. 

“You like it and you know it,” he replies, crawling over you.

You hate it when he’s right.

A comfortable silence settles as you lie back for him. His face hovers over yours, and your noses brush. He leans down to meet your lips and you turn your head. You feel his brows furrow against your cheek, his lips place a chaste kiss to your jaw.

Chan whispers your name, but you shake your head.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“I—”

“Please,” you plead, turning to face him again. Your attention flickers down to his lips. His hot breath fans over your face. “That’s not what this is about.”

Chan sighs, rolling off to lay beside you. “I don’t want to do this then.”

You sit up on your elbows to find him rubbing his face. His curls are still wet, muscular body laid out before you. You swallow thickly at the sight of his erect, pink tipped cock, glistening with your recent orgasm. When you glance back up to try to meet his gaze, you find he is fighting off a knowing smile, already staring at you.

“It kinda looks like you do.”

“You’re just as eager.” He says it like he has you figured out, but you weren’t even trying to hide it.

You rest a hand on his chest. He rubs your closest bicep, once firm fingers now so delicate on your skin.

As your hand trails down his abdomen, tracing every ridge, you ask, “Are you sure you don’t want this?”

He swallows thickly, throat bobbing. He moves from your arm to cup your cheek. He thumbs your lips, smirking when you lean into his touch. “Rest for a minute,” he gently commands. “I can smell how sensitive you are.”

You press your thighs together, biting back a hiss from the pressure.

He only smiles.

Then, his composure wavers as your fingers reach his pelvis, tracing his v-line until you reach his cock. His hips jerk at your touch. You’re about to giggle when his hand falls from your cheek to your neck. He glares, tightening his fist. You hold him properly in your hand and begin pumping him.

“Why do you always insist on testing my patience?” He asks, sitting up to tower over you. “Why can’t you just behave? Don’t you want to be my good girl?”

“Yes!” you beseech. Your voice trembles with desperation.

His gaze softens. He places his hand over yours, stopping your movements on his cock. “Babe—”

You shift on the bed, removing yourself from him. Chan sits up when you crawl between his legs. He pauses. Brows furrowed, lips in a pout, he tries again, saying your name only to be cut off by your hands on his knees. 

You push his legs further apart. 

His breath hitches. You watch lust cloud over his eyes as they flash a dark red. You scoot closer. Hand wrapping around him again, you smother your face against his shaft. You start at the base and inhale deeply. Eyes rolling back, you drag your tongue up his length.

His thighs tense, chest constricts with a sharp breath.

Lips around his tip, you suck the remnants of his orgasm and oozing pre-cum. A small ‘pop’ sounds when you pull away and a string of salvia still connects your lips to his throbbing tip. You pump him a couple of times, watching as he tries and fails not to squirm in his seat. He fists the edge of the unmade bed, face scrunched up in pleasure. You hold his wolfish gaze as you spit on his length, rub it against him and then dive back around him. You start slow, knowing oral with Chan is more of a marathon rather than a race. You have to pace yourself, take him in batches. Not only is he long, but thick too. He feels heavy in your hand alone, your jaw already aching.

He lets out a throaty groan. He pulls back your hair with both hands, tangling his fingers on either side of your head. Gripping tight, he attempts to guide you into a quicker pace. You let him, hollowing your cheeks and unleashing your tongue around him.

Chan throws his head back. He inhales sharply and hisses as he looks back down at you again. “Ah, baby,” he moans, petting your hair back only to get a tighter grip on it. “Mmm, that’s my good girl.”

He sounds needy already, claiming you in a growl. You feel the words rumble from his chest and against your tongue.

It spurs you on. You twist your wrist with every bob now, moving faster, testing your limits as you take more of him in. He moans your name and you gag. He tugs on your hair and you drool. When he shoves you further down on him then you’re prepared for, you force yourself to take it, violently fighting against your gag reflex. He trembles from the vibration, warming his cock a second longer in your throat before pulling you back by the grip on your hair.

You heave, tears fall freely down your face. Chan takes his cock out of your hand and smacks it against your tongue. Wet, it splatters saliva and cum around your face.

“Breathe, babe,” he quietly moans. You can only just make out a smirk through your watery vision.

You wrap your hand back around him and dive under his shaft. You take his balls in your mouth, catching the faint sound of his toes curling, and suck. Rotating your wrist, you jerk him off to the rhythm of your suction, tight and fast.

“You fucking slut,” he growls, eager to move your hair out of your face.

You moan at the insult, using your other hand to wrap around the base of his balls and gently squeeze as you suck hard.

Chan cums. It seems to catch him off guard as he jolts in place and gasps rather than growls. His thighs tremble beside you as another rope shoots out and over your back. You pump him faster, swallow between harsh suctions, and moan with him. The bed squeaks and shifts as he falls back.

You start to slow your movements when he roars, his alpha prominent in his voice, “Don’t fucking stop, you little cunt.”

Smirking, you resume your quick pace. Chan groans on the bed, humping your hand as his orgasm continues. He coats your hair and back with his cum a couple more times before he sits up again. He grabs onto your hair and yanks you away from his balls. They drop from your mouth with a wet ‘pop.’

That sound is starting to become one of your favourites, but then Chan croaks your name.

He leans your head back and replaces your hand around his cock with his own. “Stick out your tongue,” he orders, jerking himself off.

You do as you’re told, holding his gaze. His hand moves from your hair to your face. He caresses your cheek for a second, eyes darkening as his wolf shines through. He then holds your throat in his fist, groaning when you let out a frayed whine. He parts his lips to degrade you no doubt but gets cut off by another orgasm – courtesy of the heat. Cum coats your tongue, shoots around your lips and cheeks as it twitches frantically.

“Swallow,” he demands, the grip around your throat tightening. He smirks when you gulp against his palm. The sight of you being so obedient must have done something to him because another rope of cum shoots over your face.

You shut your eyes with a gasp. Your tongue swirls around your lips to lick off whatever missed your mouth. Chan lets go of his cock long enough to collect the cum over your eye and cheek. He shoves his thumb in your mouth, a quiet moan rumbling in his chest as you suck and swallow.

He repeats his actions until you’ve swallowed all his cum. 

The tip of his erection pokes your chin, summoning your attention. Ensnared by the heat, it pulsates against your skin, hot and needy. You recall all the times you begged him to eat you out when you were in his position just desperate to cum, cum, cum all over that handsome face. You’re not surprised to find he is experiencing the same thing, with his endurance strengthened and sex drive intensified. 

“Do you want more?” You ask, hoping to bait him into begging. 

He sighs, lips breaking into a tired smile. “Not here,” he shakes his head. “Stand up for me?”

“Say please,” you say anyway. From the way you catch a hint of his wolf’s intimidation in his gaze, you can only assume the mischievousness of your own has surfaced on your features.  

Swallowing thickly, he concedes to your alpha, muttering through gritted teeth, “Please.”

You smirk and stand. However, your reign of control flatters as you find that your legs are still weak. He put a substantial amount of his strength into his previous thrusts in the hall. While you can usually keep up, the spiked dose of testosterone due to the heat has amplified his power. 

He wraps you in his arms, pulling you into his chest, before you can even reach out to and stabilise yourself against the bed. He kisses the top of your head, the act no doubt out of habit, and you regret to find that you melt into him. He does it again, and again, guiding your bodies towards the door.

As you make your way down the hall, his hands run down your back before grabbing a handful of both cheeks. You bite back a moan, risking a peek up at him.

A knowing smile plays on his lips. And his eyes gleam with pride and adoration. His grip becomes soft, hands cradling you against him.

You flicker your gaze down at his lips, so full and sweet. You don’t realise you’ve been tracing them with your thumb until you feel the cold tile of the bathroom beneath you. The humid steam from Chan’s recent shower still lingers, dampening your skin.

“Didn’t you just shower?” You ask as he leans over you to turn the tap on.

Chan smirks down at you, tonguing his cheek when you stiffen at the proximity of his lips over yours. “Yes,” he breathes, making a point to fan his hot breath on your face.

You gulp, unable to avert your gaze from his lips no matter how loud you mentally shout. Digging your nails into his shoulder, you attempt to recenter yourself, perhaps even work up the strength to create some distance between you long enough to remember that this is out of obligation and nothing more.

“So why—”

“Because I fucked my hand thinking about you,” he starts helping you into the shower.

He falls quiet for a moment, watching the warm water spray down your hair, over your body.

You lean your head back, letting the water wash away the despair and anguish of loving someone who cannot love you. You run your hands through your hair. Your eyes flutter shut. You embrace the heat, the comfort of the thickening steam. He knows how hot you prefer your showers, and endures them even if they’re “scotching.” His skin would gleam a bright red once you’re done and he’d sulk about it until you kiss every last blotch. You’d tell him to just set it colder next time, but he never does.

You’re not sure why someone, who would burn for you, is so content with hiding you. If his love for you is so strong he can stand for hours under “scotching” water, why can it not endure the withering judgement of his family?

Chan traces the outline of your breasts. You look back at him, his touch drawing you from your thoughts. He cups them gently, thumbing your nipples.

“I want to feel you clenching around me this time,” he whispers, brushing your nose with his.

He squeezes once, twice, and by the third, he uses his grip to shove you against the wall.

You moan the moment your back meets the cool wall, arching into him to escape the cold.

“I want you against this wall,” he lifts your right leg to rest it over his shoulder, “folded all pretty,” he lifts the left to rest it on his other one, “moaning and whining, just like you always do.”

You whimper.

His lips hover over yours, breath hot.

You shiver against him, unable to escape the cold of the shower tiles now.

He makes this so easy. He holds you so close, rubbing his shaft between your folds, nudging your nose with his own. He peppers delicate kisses under your jaw. He grazes the skin with his teeth. His fingers dig into the fat of your ass, keen on holding you up. You almost lose yourself hearing him quietly moan against your neck. His lips are so close to your pulse, you can almost feel the vibrations of his voice echo with your heartbeat.

He makes it so easy to love him, it takes everything in you to snap your eyes open and pull yourself out of the familiarity of the act.

“Fuck me,” you whisper, voice smoky and breathless.

Chan pulls himself away enough to meet your gaze, noting the slight influence of your alpha in your voice. His eyes still gleam a deep red.

You stifle your dominant wolf for a moment, yielding to his, as you try again. “Please? Please fu—”

Your breath hitches, words failing, as he pushes into you.

Chan tries but fails to hide his smirk. He watches your face scrunch in pleasure, your brows furrowing, nose slightly wrinkled and jaw slack, tonguing his cheek to suppress a cocky chuckle. He can’t help himself for long, however, breathing a little laugh as he dips his head to lick the drool now dripping from the corner of your lip.

Barely holding it together with how deep he reaches already, you cannot resist the loud moan that tears through your throat at the feeling of his warm, wet tongue dragging across your skin.

Your toes curl, legs trembling already.

Chan notices, throwing his head back to allow a full-fledged laugh to echo in the steamy room. The vibrations resonating off his chest and against yours are not doing you any favours either, your orgasm already gathering.

Your face grows hot, eyes water from the sheer embarrassment of your pathetic stamina.

“Stop laughing at me!” You attempt to order. The words are frayed, however, croaking with the thick impression of desperation and amatory.

It’s enough to snap him out of his egotistic stance and ram his hips into yours.

You scream– You tangle your fingers in his hair, gripping onto his messy, curled strands and scream. The pressure of his girth pushing through your tight walls, pulsating. The speed of his thrusts, the slam of his body, hips moving out and up right into you, so deep, so—

“Not yet,” Chan warns through a rogue growl.

You want to obey, you really do. You screw your eyes shut, hold your breath, and even clench tightly, eager to keep your orgasm at bay. But all it seems to do is encourage it.

The force of his hips become so strong now, your legs begin to bounce further and further along his shoulders until they’re just dangling over his forearms. You try to resume the position he so keenly put you in but cannot find enough strength to hold off your orgasm and move your legs at the same time.

Chan doesn’t seem to mind anyway. His pace, his force, even his depth does not falter. He moves just as aggressively, determined to use every hidden inch of you.

Your whiny moans stagger with each thrust, each one raising in pitch. Tears sting your eyes again. Your voice breaks. Cedar wood and peppercorn, wet and thick, invades your senses as you gasp for a breath.

You meant to say something— maybe his name, maybe even the beginning of a sentence you never intended to finish. But your words cinch at your throat, your breath hitches and fails, and your voice hits an octave you don’t think Chan would have been able to hear were he not a werewolf.

Your orgasm gushes around him. You only just hear the wet smacks of skin on skin as blood rushes to your head and disorients your mind. There’s a ringing in your ears; your vision blurs. You feel so light, your head so empty.

Chan holds you up, engulfing your body in a tight hug as he continues. You’re not sure how long it takes him but he eventually finishes, shooting ropes of warm cum deep inside you. His head nuzzles deep in the crook of your neck, inhaling and licking your scent as he rides his high, using you like a cocksleeve.

Then, he helps you stand. Your legs wobble, sore, and he holds you close. For a moment, you forget where you are and how you got here, you forget the heartbreak and arguments, you forget the regretful realisations and troubled truths. For a moment, it’s just you and it’s just Chan, and it’s just another shower.

It’s just mates.

And then the water runs cold.

There is something off about the smell in the hallway. It doesn’t merely linger with notions of someone in heat. Due to the effects of the blue moon, Minho can detect hints of desperation, despair. It’s as though there’s a strong yearning in the air, salty like tears and bitter like sweat. He cannot pinpoint it to an apartment though, the scent flooding the entire floor.

“Chan needs to open a window,” Jisung mutters.

Minho adjusts his grip on the grocery bags. “Maybe he’s not the only one,” he wonders aloud. “We aren’t the only wolves in the building.”

“Why is the smell only here then? Why didn’t we smell it when we came in or got on the elevator?”

Minho swallows thickly. He has known Chan for almost ten years. And while Chan does his best to hide his burdens and worries, Minho can always tell when something is off. There is always a certain rigidness in his posture or sharpness in his voice. He doesn’t smile as easily and there’s a tiny yet prominent crease between his brows.

Given the effects of the blue moon, Minho can also smell it. He can smell anxiety, uncertainty, misery. He can smell hints of fear, desire, and something pure, something whole.

“I’m telling him to open a window anyway,” Jisung sighs.

“Don’t bother him. He’s going through enough.”

“It’s a quick knock,” Jisung argues, “I won’t even go in.”

Minho rolls his eyes.

The smell intensifies around the apartment door. Minho begrudgingly realises that Jisung might be right. Chan does need to crack open a window.

Discomfort brews in his chest at the fact that this also means that his friend must be suffering. This does not smell like the usual mess of chaotically erratic and eager nerves, though. This smells of pain, regret and… heartbreak?

What is going on with his friends lately? Chan is experiencing a soul-trampling heat. You locked yourself in your room since last night. And you snapped at him this morning. He noticed you left the party hastily last night only to rush back and hide in your room. He asked Kai what happened, having caught glimpses of the two of you dancing earlier that night, but Kai was just as confused. Worried, he gently knocked on the door to check on you, and you barked at him to get the fuck out of your room. In all the years Minho has known you, you have never once spoken to him like that.

Minho and Jisung share a look as they stand before the apartment door. Minho sets the bags down. Jisung holds his fist up at the door, about to knock.

“Chan! P-please!”

Minho stiffens. Jisung spares a sidelong glance at him.

Is that—?

“Fuck, I can cum in you right now.”

“Please! Please daddy!”

Minho can feel the blood drain from his face. “What the fuck,” he whispers, taking a step back.

Jisung’s jaw drops. He frantically points at the door, looking between the thick wood and Minho. “That’s—”

“I know.”

“With—”

“I know,” Minho repeats in a hiss.

He should have known, shouldn’t he? You’ve both been acting weird, disappearing at similar times, having one-on-one chats that seem to end the moment someone else walks into a room. Your behaviour yesterday at the dome was an oddity in itself. You drove twenty minutes to see him after you knew everyone would have gone. And the smell in the air when Minho walked back in there… God, were you two fucking in there too?

Jisung holds his head, eyes wide, breath heavy. “I need to tell someone,” he whispers. “I need to tell everyone!”

Minho snaps his attention back to Jisung, watching him pace by the door. “Are you insane? They clearly don’t want anyone to know.”

“But we do know!”

“And that’s why no one else can know.”

“But—”

“Jisung!” Minho whisper-yells, cutting him off. “What if that was you and, I don’t know, Hyunjin?”

Jisung pauses.

“Would you want all your friends knowing and talking about it behind your back?” Upon Jisung’s silence, Minho nods over to his own apartment and continues, “Now we’re going inside and pretending like nothing happened.��

Sighing defeatedly, Jisung shuffles towards the other door. He crosses his arms over his chest and quietly asks, “Can we at least agree that this is crazy?”

Minho rubs his face. “Sure,” he mumbles before opening the door.

The smell of freshly baked cookies and brownies only momentarily refreshes Minho’s senses. He reveals in this sacred second of serenity before the collided smell of his friends’ pheromones attacks once more.

“Jesus, shut the door,” Changbin whines, covering his nose.

“I prefer Jisung.”

Minho glares at Jisung’s stupid joke, closing and locking the door.

“Someone tell Chan to open a window,” Seungmin says around a bite of his cookie.

“He’s definitely opening something,” Jisung whispers under his breath.

Minho shoots him a cautious glare as Felix asks, “What?”

“Nothing,” Minho reassures.

Jisung rolls his eyes. He inhales deeply before walking over to where Felix and Seungmin sit in the kitchen. Minho carefully watches him, straining his ears to listen to their conversation.

“Well, did you?” Jeongin asks.

Minho turns to find Jeongin standing in front of him, a concerned look on his face.

“What?”

“Did you see ____ on your way up here?” Jeongin repeats. “She went down to get her charger from the car like twenty minutes ago.”

Sparing a quick glance at Jisung, Minho replies, “No, we didn’t.”

Jeongin rubs the back of his neck. “I’m worried about her,” he quietly confesses, “She’s been acting weird lately.”

“I haven’t noticed,” Minho lies.

“Really? She literally yelled at you this morning.”

Minho catches Jisung shifting his weight from the corner of his eye. Keep it together, he thinks before turning back to Jeongin.

“Maybe it’s the blue moon,” Minho shrugs.

Jeongin nods. He looks at the ground, rubbing down his neck to his shoulder again and again.

Minho bites his lip. He squeezes Jeongin’s arm and offers a small smile, “It’s going to be alright. She just needs some spac—”

“Chan and ____ are sleeping together!” Jisung suddenly shouts.

Everyone is on their feet, walking towards Jisung or looking at Minho for confirmation.

“What?”

“Where?”

“How do you know?”

“Where are they doing it?”

“Are you sure?”

“Guys, where are they doing it?” Changbin repeats.

“Why? Are you trying to watch?” Seungmin sarcastically questions. “Who cares where they’re doing it? Why didn’t they just tell us they’re dating?”

Changbin furrows his brows, shaking his head. “Someone tore my mattress and Chan told me it was a couple from the party last night.”

“Did he say which couple?” Felix asks.

“No…” Changbin trails off as his terror settles over him.

Trying and failing to hold back his laughter, Minho shares a look with his friends. They’re all failing to contain themselves, merely stifling their amusement and averting their gazes.

That bout of fear in his eyes morphs into anger as Changbin clenches his fists.“It’s not funny!” He insists, stomping towards the door, “I’m going to kill them!”

Minho tries to stop him but Changbin is determined to get through, pushing around his friends. He yanks the door open, stumbling back from the scent. He regains his anger quickly, however, about to storm across the hall when your scream, only just muffled by the door, echoes around the room.

No one moves. Not a breath can be heard. Whatever humour once lingered between the group of friends disappears.

Changbin slowly shuts the door. 

The lock clicks. 

He stares at it for a second longer before turning around and returning to his place on the couch, muttering, “I think they’re busy.”

“Maybe it’s not what we think,” Felix interjects, defusing some of the awkward tension. “Maybe she’s just helping him through the heat?”

“He did leave around the time she was in heat a few months ago,” Jeongin agrees. “He said something about a trip to the beach.”

“What does it even matter?” Minho wonders aloud. “Who cares if it’s just for the heat or if they’re dating or if it’s just sex or whatever. Who cares? Why would they hide it from us?”

Jisung shrugs, “It’s awkward to talk about. I mean think about it— they know what the other does when they’re about to… you know…” he trails off as a chorus of disgusted groans erupt. “See! No one wants to talk about that.”

“Don’t be gross, Jisung. No one but you is that perverted,” Changbin chastises. “It’s obviously about Chan’s parents. They have been on his ass about marrying an ‘obedient omega girl’ for as long as I can remember.”

“What century is this?” Jeongin chuckles.

“They’re purists,” he continues. “It’s a whole religious or survival-type thing for them.”

Minho hides his shock with a bite of his lip. He didn’t know purists still existed, much less that Chan’s parents are believers. 

“How can it be both?” Hyunjin asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Because they are not worshipping anything. They just participate in a ritual of ancient practice,” Changbin answers. 

When Hyunjin’s face still reflects his confusion, Felix explains instead. “You know how, like, no one can find a mate anymore,” he asks, continuing when Hyunjin nods, “Purists think that if they mate an alpha with an omega, they can appease the moon into blessing our kind with mates again. So, they don’t worship the moon. It’s just an ancient belief our ancestors had.” 

Hyunjin furrows his brows. “But what about people whose mates are not werewolves? How do they explain that?”

“They don’t,” Changbin sharply replies. Minho notes the tension in his shoulders, the disapproval in his eyes, and wonders how many times Chan has spoken to him about his parents. 

This time Chan’s growls, distant across the hall, slightly tremble the walls, only just cutting through the conversation.

Seungmin snatches his phone. Minho parts his lips, about to tell him not to call or text when loud music fills the room. It mostly drowns out the travelling sounds from across the hall.

Looking around the room, Minho shares an uncertain look with his friends. “Let’s just get through the night,” he calls over the music, “And talk to them about it tomorrow.”

This should ease his mind, but Minho is only left with more questions. If you two are together, why were you dancing with Kai? Is that why Chan left in the middle of his set or why you locked yourself in your room all day? Whatever is happening must be more than sex — or at least smells like more.

Minho crinkles his nose at the thought.

Chan lathers his shampoo into your hair, his fingertips delicately pressing into your scalp. He runs his hands through the strands when rinsing. He then drags a vanilla-scented, foamy loofa in circles around your torso, arms and between your legs. You hold your breath as he carefully avoids the apex of your thighs. His eyes ever-so slightly gleam maroon at the scent of your sensitivity.

You meant to tell him that he doesn’t need to do this. You are more than capable of cleaning yourself. But your legs still tremble and you find yourself clutching onto his broad shoulders in a weak attempt to stabilise yourself.

And he’s just so gentle. He cradles your body close, brushing his lips against your forehead. He holds you like you might shatter at any moment. He holds you like he might lose you under the spray of the hot shower, like you might dissolve between his fingers. Your wolf whimpers deep in your gut at the thought of losing this. You were missing his tender touch all alone in your bed last night.

Still, you refuse to meet his gaze. You refuse to be lulled back by the sight of those big brown eyes and red tipped ears. You refuse to forget that this is an obligation— (the word becoming meaningless the more you mentally repeat it.)

The water cools again. Chan reaches behind you to adjust the settings once more. His scent screeds from under his arms.

Breath hitching, wolf whining, you sway into him. Fuck, you just need an inch of distance to gather yourself. If you continue to nuzzle into him outside the context of a heat-fuck, he might start to believe that all is forgiven.

“I need to lay down,” you mutter, peeling yourself off his chest. His scent consumes you once more, only it's wet. It’s in the air. It’s dripping from his shoulders, his torso, his pelvis, racing down his strong legs. It’s intoxicating, breath-taking, you stagger over your next inhale, nails piercing into his skin.

Chan shuts off the tap. He maintains a hand on your waist as he reaches some towels. He wraps his thick, grey robe around your shoulders.

You regrettably meet his gaze. He’s tilting his head down, attentively scanning your features for a sign of discomfort.

If he had bitten you, he’d be able to read your mind and know that you are struggling to contain yourself around him. He’d know that you’ve been gripping, by the fangs of your teeth, onto your anger, your disappointment, your heartbreaking realisation that he doesn't love you.

“I want a regular towel,” you whisper as if hoping he won’t hear it.

Chan bends down to properly meet your tearful eyes. “Are you sure?” he gently asks. “You like how comfy my robe is.”

Correction: you adore how comfy it is. It’s like being wrapped in a cloud of Chan. You would often dream about that robe when trying to fall asleep some nights when you’re particularly missing him. You’ve stolen it all of three times, cuddling into it before he would come over and take it back.

“How am I supposed to get clean?” he’d ask.

“I like you dirty.”

You’re about to ask for a towel again but find yourself already stuffing your arms into the robe. You curse the muscle memory of being in this position countless times before. His scent completely engulfs you and you stop trying to fight it. If this is going to be the last time you wear his robe, or let him dote on you, then you might as well enjoy it, at least while you still can.

Chan ties it tight around you, letting you lean into him as he reaches for another towel to wrap about his waist. You make it a point not to look down, feign interest in the wall tiles.

You expected him to help you out of the shower. You just didn’t think he’d lift you again. The strength of his wolf makes it effortless, but you thought he’d be exhausted after cumming as aggressively as he did. You can still feel the vibrations of his growls echoing in your bones.

“I’m gonna ruin your sheet,” you try to warn as he lays you back on his bed.

Chan smirks, “Promise?”

You can’t fight off the heat that rushes to your cheeks. You sink down into his soft pillows, remembering their comfort on stormy nights when he’d sneak you in and you’d cuddle to sleep. Things were so simple then. A secret was just a secret. Sex was just sex. 

Now, as you lay on his bed, drenched in his scent with him lying beside you, you wish you could return to those moments where loving you was not a burden.

It was easy once, wasn���t it? You remember that it was easy for him to sneak glances at you across the room, and risk teasing you in front of the others. His eyes would light up when you enter a room. You always thought that gesture alone would get you caught. When did being yours become so hard for him?

How many times do I have to tell you I love you for you to believe me?

The question echoes, distant yet loud.

Did he mean it? Was it just another symptom of the blue moon?

Hints of vanilla body wash fuse with his musky cedar scent. The spice of the peppercorn and freshness of linens soothe you out of your anxiety. For a moment, eyes fluttering shut, you pretend this is normal. You pretend that you spent the night here, that the guys are in the other room trying to stay quiet while you sleep in after an eventful night with Chan. You pretend that you always wake up in his bed, stretch out his clothes, and flirt shamelessly in front of your friends.

For a moment, you were never a secret. You hold hands, share food, go on dates within the county lines and kiss in supermarket aisles. It’s just you and Chan. No one else matters.

Thump.

The front door shuts.

You rub an eye open, sitting up. The room is illuminated pink and blue by the triangle lights above Chan’s bed. A blanket drapes over your robe-wrapped body.

You look through the gape of the door to find Chan, in black briefs, pacing around the kitchen. You’re about to push the blanket off you, curious to see what’s going on, when he quietly enters the room.

“Oh, you’re up,” he says, offering a gentle smile. Handing you a bottle of vitamin water, he adds, “Did I wake you?”

You accept, careful not to touch his hand.

“How long was I out for?”

Chan shrugs, “About two hours.”

As you open the bottle and take timid sips, the robe that was once securely tightened around you, begins to drape off your right shoulder. You notice Chan staring over the rim of the bottle. He tongues his cheeks, eyes becoming distant in his usual unidentifiable stare.

His heat must still have a tight grip on him.

“You alright?” you ask as you cap the bottle.

Chan nods slowly. He then circles the bed to lay down beside you.

You settle back against the pillows.

“You always smell like jasmine, sandalwood, and honey,” Chan announces. “It bothered me so much when we first met. I would get so nervous around you. I thought it was my wolf protecting me, like it was trying to warn me against you or something.”

You remember that first week in the apartment. Chan always sat farthest from you. He avoided your gaze. He talked to you only when he had to and usually used your friends as messengers.

“Jisung told me you have trouble trusting people.”

“Jisung needs to learn to keep his mouth shut,” Chan jokes, tucking an arm under his head.

You resist the urge to laugh. None of this changes the fact that he hurt you, that he couldn’t even promise to tell your friends about your relationship. Even if he sees how wrong he is now, even if he apologises, it does not change anything.

You are still a secret. He is still ashamed.

Your wolf whimpers deep in your chest. You roll your eyes at it.

“Why are you telling me this?”

Chan sighs. You hear him swallow before he asks, “Do you remember when you started dating Jeremy?”

You cast him a sidelong glance, brows knitted in confusion. “You hated Jeremy.”

“I hated Jeremy,” he agrees. “I hated it when you laughed at his jokes, I hated it when he held your hand, when you hugged, when you kissed, even when you touched. It made me sick. I hated him so much, Changbin had to ask me not to go bowling with you anymore because I made him too uncomfortable. Do you remember that?”

“God,” you smile at the reminder, falling back into your memories, “Friday night bowling was insane.”

Jisung and Hyunjin bickered. Minho kept trying to do trick-shots, which never worked and always mildly injured anyone who made the mistake of standing too close. Changbin shouted, Felix danced, Seungmin playfully mocked anyone in sight, and Jeongin always missed his turn, too distracted by his friends’ antics.

Chan always sulked. He lingered behind Jeremy, watching him bowl and then made a comment about his form. You noticed that Jeremy always stiffened around him, but you thought that was a normal interaction when it came to Chan. It was how you often reacted to his presence. You always stiffened when he entered a room or deigned to share a few words with you. When he bowled, however, you froze and gawked at how he sucked his cheeks as he pondered or rolled his shoulders back before finally taking his turn. You hadn’t realised that you were reacting to the bond or that Jeremy was threatened by Chan’s overbearing behaviour.

One Friday, Jemery bowled his first strike and Chan flipped him off. 

“He’s just competitive,” Changbin had to reassure Jeremy. 

You coddled his ego all week, repeating time and again that Chan was just a protective friend.

“Friday night bowling was torture,” Chan affirms through a little chuckle, pulling you out of your memories.

You turn to him. He’s already looking at you. 

“Chan—”

“I didn’t realise how much I liked you until I fucked my pillow, thinking about you,” he confesses. “I watched Jeremy take you home one night and couldn’t stop thinking about walking over there and just pulling you into my arms instead. I wanted to kiss you in front of him. I wanted to bend you over the nearest table and show him how to properly fuck you. I knew from the way you talked back, he had no idea what he was doing.”

You bite your lip, pulling your legs closer towards your body.

Chan spares a glance at the gesture. A notion of a smirk tugs on a corner of his lips.

“I realised that all I ever thought about was you. You’re the only person I wanted to see. I would ask Changbin to check on you and stand nearby just to hear about your day. I felt pathetic. I even followed you around the apartment whenever you came over because I couldn’t get enough of your scent.”

You lick your lips, turning to look back up at the ceiling. “What do you want me to do with this information?” you ask, voice level, tone distant.

“I…” he trails off. “I just thought—”

“This won’t change my mind.”

“I’m not trying to!”

“It’s over!” you shout, sitting up as you look towards him.

He doesn’t move, jaw tight.

You sigh and dig the heel of your palms into your eyes.

“It doesn’t hav—”

“It does,” you cut off, sparing a glance at him over your shoulder. You rest your hands back in your lap, repeating, “We’re done, Chan.”

There is a beat of silence before he asks, voice raspy, “So, this is it? This is our last heat together? Are we even friends after this?”

Of course, we are, you want to say. You’re my best friend.

No one sees you like Chan does. He silences a room when you want to speak, he memorises your favourite colours, scents, textures and randomly gifts them to you. He’d send you things that remind him of you, once sharing a playlist he curated with songs he’d know you enjoy. Even before you started dating, he’d buy your favourite drinks and leave them in the fridge for you. He’d make sure you’re eating and even offer to drive you places. Though still standoffish, he’d let you corner him and talk his ears off about whatever bothered you that day.

“We will never stop being mates,” he adds in a faint whisper, as if thinking aloud to himself.

That sounds like your problem– the words are on the tip of your tongue, fuelled by rage from the injustice of it all. You’re the one who let me down first!

However, heartbreak arrests your voice. 

Do you even have the strength to be in the same room after this? Will you be able to look at him without your legs giving out?

Maybe you can try distracting yourself with someone else instead.

The thought leaves a foul taste in your mouth. You’re not sure you can stomach the scent of someone else. 

Oh god… what if he finds someone else….

You tremble, clenching tightly onto the blanket. How quickly will he move on after this? Do his parents already have another girl picked out for him? They’ve already tried to set up blind dates multiple times before. You’ve overheard enough phone calls between him and his parents to be sure.

“I see,” Chan whispers, taking your silence as an answer.

You swallow thickly as your eyes water. Shoulders slumped, head hanging, you draw in a deep breath, inhaling the comfort of his scent. The bed shifts with your exhale.

Chan sits up beside you. He brings a gentle hand to the small of your back. You feel the tips of his fingers trace delicate circles up and down, round and around your skin. And you hate how it makes your wolf flutter. You try and fail to fight the desire to lean back into his touch.

You meet his gaze, parting your lips to say something— anything, only to find tears gathering in his eyes as well. Skin flushed, lips full, wet and ears pink-tipped, he’s devastatingly beautiful. You wrestle every last nerve in your body to not take back what you said.

“I love you,” Chan whispers. His voice wavers with sincerity and regret.

Leaning in, you meant to only kiss him goodbye. You meant for your lips to momentarily press, and your parting to be official.

But those soft lips taste of his salty tears and your heart can’t help soaring from the bittersweetness of them. You break the kiss to lick at those tears again and again. You don’t realise you’re moaning until Chan pulls you onto his lap.

You straddle him because it’s muscle memory and nothing more, you tell yourself. You straddle him because you will never straddle him again after this. You straddle him to hold him close one last time, to feel his heart hammer against yours as your fated blood courses through your veins as one.

His tongue draws yours back into a kiss. You run your hands through his damp hair, gently tugging on his half-curled strands. He moans into your mouth like he did during the blue moon. His fingers press against the fat of your ass, pulling your hips down against his.

Hard, thick, his clothed erection rubs between your folds. You clench, instantly dampening the soft cotton of his briefs. He quivers with you. A deep growl crawls from the base of his chest and resonates against your tongue.

You can’t help your moan. You can’t help the jut of your hips towards him, again and again, chasing the opportunity to hear that growl one more time, to feel it.

He only groans, however.

Wolf determined, you pull off your robe. Chan breaks the kiss at the wave of your freed scent, now unobscured by the thick robe. He buries his face in your neck, sucking on the sensitive skin before grazing it with his teeth. His hands find a place on your breasts, cupping and squeezing them as you continue to rhythmically dry hump him. Cradling his head with one hand, your other drags along his back, leaving jagged, reddish lines in their wake. You then dig your long nails into his shoulder and steady yourself for a forceful thrust, putting your wolf’s strength into it.

Chan whines. He shudders under you, whining your name in a croaky voice that unravels something primal deep in your gut.

Your hips halt.

Looking down at Chan, you expect to find pride in his eyes. It took him a while to submit to you at the gym last night. He challenged every order, attempted to hide every shiver. Egotistic and cocky, he teased you for as long as he could. You expected him to be chewing on his lip to hold back a smirk, to be regarding you carefully, silently cautioning you from mentioning this again.

Brown eyes, big and round, sparkle as he peers up at you. His chin glistens from your spit, lips blotchy from your kiss. His ears flame red, shoulders slump as you graze them with your nails. His arms wrap around you, pulling you closer against him.

Defeated? Regretful?

You’re not sure what causes such a shameless surrender. And with his cock throbbing beneath you, you don’t have time to find out right now.

Lifting your hips, you order, “Take’em off.”

His hands tremble as he lets go of you. Confusion creases his features.

“What?”

“Now.”

Chan attempts to maintain your severe stare while looping his thumbs around the waistband to wiggle his briefs off. His breath hitches before he can kick them off his ankles, attention now consumed by your hand wrapping around his throbbing erection.

You thumb his oozing tip; Chan gasps.

You squeeze his shaft; Chan crumbles, breathlessly moaning your name. 

He grabs onto your thick thighs, nail-beds whitening from the pressure of his grip, and cranks his neck back to let your lips hover over his.

The suggestion of putting him in this position, at the mercy of your whims, was non-negotiable before tonight. He would have spanked you for it. He would have cuffed your limbs to the four corners of the bedposts and held a vibrator against your clit, teasing you closer and closer to your orgasm only to take it away when you were ready to let go. He wouldn’t have stopped until you were sobbing, promising never to bring it up again.

In truth, you would have only brought it up to receive a punishment that severe. You love the way Chan dictates order, commands control, especially when he wields it over you. The sheer thought has you biting your lip.

However, the Chan under you, allowing himself to remain locked under the cage of your thighs, fosters alpha tendencies buried deep within your gut. A pleased growl festers in your chest at the sight of him so willing, so broken.

“Where is the hard-headed alpha who wouldn’t let me tie him up?”

You don’t recognise your own voice, yet resist the urge to blink your surprise. You are well aware that it belongs to your alpha, but have never heard it sound so steady, so sure. While dark, the femininity of your voice cuts through like shattered glass— sharp and faintly lethal if injected in the bloodstream.

A trail of saliva leaks from the corner of his lips. You’re not sure he notices, or perhaps he just doesn’t care. He gawks at you, throat bobbing as he thickly swallows.

You run your free hand through his hair, softly scratching his scalp. You watch those big brown eyes flutter at the gentle gesture. Core clenching, you bite your lip to force back a moan.

Chan’s eyes snap open as you tug on his short strands. Astonished pride swims within his gaze as you stare him down.

“I-I just want whatever you w-want,” he finally answers in a breathy whisper.

“You’re the one in heat.”

“Not anymore,” he replies, shaking his head. “I don’t think so anyway.”

You hold his shaft between your folds, grinding against his length. Chan shivers, brushing his nose with yours.

“You don’t have the overwhelming urge to fuck me anymore?” You tease, pointedly nudging your nose with his. “Should I stop—”

“No!”

You remember that voice, that degree of pathetic desperation. You bite down on his bottom lips and pull as you align his length with your needy hole.

“Please,” he attempts to utter as you suck on his lip. You let go of it with a ‘pop.’ Eager to taste your tongue, he pulls the swollen lip into his mouth, eyes fluttering shut.

You tsk at him, lightly shaking his head with the grip on his hair. “There’ll be none of that,” you chastise. “Open your eyes.”

He wordlessly follows orders.

Because he’s been so forthcoming, and you really cannot deny your desires for much longer, you sink down on his cock. Exchanging breaths, you gasp into each other’s mouths.

Chan lets out a throaty moan when you completely seat yourself on his lap again. You can tell from the way his shoulders tremble, he’s doing his best to resist the urge to jut his hips up into yours.

As the neon lights in his room cast a reddish glow, the realisation of his beauty hits you all over again. His eyes sparkle with adoration, hot face flushes with desire. From his lips down to his chin, his skin glistens with unquenched hunger. 

You tease a roll of your hips.

He sets his jaw, rasping moans.  

You brush a section of his hair back towards his ear, the same way he often does to you. I love you too, you want to tell him. I love you so much, I’m debating on being your secret for eternity if it means I get to always be yours.

Instead you still your hips, resisting the urge to smirk when he quietly whines, and ask, “Did I ever tell you why he broke up with me?” 

Chan furrows his brows. “Jer—”

“Yes,” you quickly cut him off. “Did I ever tell you what happened?”

Chan shakes his head. He wraps his arms around your waist, smothering your breasts against his chest. He pecks the point of your chin and asks, “What happened?” like his needy cock isn’t buried deep within you.

You kiss his temple, petting back his hair before resting your arms on his broad shoulders. Then you rest your forehead against his, noses brushing, lips grazing as you confess, “I moaned your name.”

Chan blinks.

“I was trying to cum. He’s really sloppy and it was hard. My eyes were closed the whole time I guess,” you explain, voice shaking as his cock throbs against your walls. “I-I tried but I couldn’t stop thinking about you. It only felt bearable when I thought about you.”

His hips shift and you reactively clench around him. Chan groans, throwing his head back.

You whimper at the fullness, at the sudden onslaught of his scent seeping from his neck. Hands steady on his shoulders, you nudge him back onto the mattress.

He complies, unravelling himself from you to lay back onto his pillows. A smirk finds its way on his lips and he looks up at you.

“We should’ve done this more often,” he muses, tucking both arms under his head. “You look so pretty on top.”

Maybe it’s the overwhelming wave after wave of his scent, or that reawakened egotistic voice of his, but you decide that the time for words is over.

Gripping onto his waist, you lean forward and arch your back. Up and down, you bounce on his cock. Your ass smack, smack, smacks down on his thighs, pussy clenching around his thickness with each brush of friction.

“Oh my god,” you whine, letting go of his wrists to shift your grip up to his chest. “You’re so fucking b-big!”

Chan, hands freed from your hold, grab onto your ass, helping you find a steady pace.

“S-slow down,” he says, trailing his grip up to your hips. “I don’t want this to end.”

If you cum, you’d have to leave, you realise. Because this is over, this fuck will be your last. You’ll never get to revel at his size anymore, never get to whine his name or dig your nails into his skin.

You stop your thrusts and roll your hips around his.

Chan sits back up, pressing himself against you again. He hugs your waists and peppers kisses along your cheek and down your jaw. You write out his name with your hips as he licks at your neck.

“You misspelt my name,” he teases.

“Did not!”

“It’s a-n not u-n,” he corrects.

Putting your wolf’s strength into it, you grind harder onto him, respelling his name again and again. His legs tremble beneath you, growls turning into low chuckles.

Peeling himself from the crook of your neck, Chan gazes up at you, eyes gleaming with that unidentifiable emotion as he declares, “I am pathetically in love with you.”

You stop.

Chan holds you tighter. “I know it’s over,” he rushes to add. “I don’t deserve you, ____. I should have told them sooner. I should have told them when we found out that we’re mates. You shouldn’t have had to threaten me.”

You furrow your brows. “Wait,” you push his hair back to properly search his eyes. “What do you mean ‘told them sooner?’ Di-did you tell your parents about us?”

Chan swallows thickly.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does!” you shout, slightly leaning back.

The gesture causes his tip to hit a new angle. You cannot fight the strained moan that tears through your throat from the jolt of pleasure. You can hear him fight back a chuckle as he tries to keep you still.

“Do we have to talk about this now?” He asks.

Breathless, you ignore his question to pose your own. “When did you tell them?”

His cock pulsates at the new angle, making you tremble. This really isn’t the time for this conversation, but you don’t think you’ll be able to cum without this information.

Here you are, sitting on his cock for the first time, believing that it will also be your last. You are freely dictating your desires, allowing yourself to completely lose all inhibitions if it means you get to experience his cock before walking away from this forever. You’ve been wondering how to be friends, how to be around him after this and this entire time his parents knew.

You can’t continue without knowing how long they have known. Why did he let you believe they haven’t? Does he resent you for forcing him to tell them? Does he regret it?

“I called them after you left last night,” he confesses. “You were right about everything and I couldn’t live with myself knowing I have been treating you like shit.”

Tears gather in your eyes.

“I was gonna go after you but I got so sick out of nowhere. I wanted to throw up and eat my weight in chicken at the same time. Then I got so hot and cold. I couldn’t even move!”

You nod, knowing that feeling all too well. The tingle of your nerves, numbing your limbs the moment you lay down. Nausea overwhelms you and cannot possibly eat but you’re famished all the time. Clothes seem heavy but you’re too cold to lounge around naked. You usually become extremely active before becoming completely immobilised by your desperation to be filled though.

“That’s how it starts,” you confirm. The first week of your heat was jammed into a few hours for him. “You should have called me.”

Chan shakes his head. “I didn’t want you thinking I only told them because of the heat. You deserve more than that. You always have. ”

Swallowing thickly, your lips quiver as you ask, “Why did you let me end this? Why didn’t you tell me this when I told you it was over?”

“You were exhausted with me,” he shrugs, “and I wasn’t going to force you into something you didn’t want.”

His eyes water and, as he allows a smile to tug on the corners of his lips, you finally realise what that look in his gaze is. Once unidentifiable, you see it clearly for what it has always been: devotion, passion, worship.

You cup his face as tears fall down your cheeks. Chan leans in with you, eager to collide your lips. Your stomach flutters with delicate petals of heat. They bloom up into your chest, warming your body with a sense of comfort, familiarity and security. His tender kiss is a promise of protection, a declaration of devotion as his tongue glides along yours. You exchange breaths, share moans and grasp onto each other’s limbs.

Chan keeps one arm around you while the other rubs your thigh. You trail your hands from his face down to his back. As your hips begin to grind once more, you scratch at his back.

He hisses into the kiss.

You fight off a smile, arching your back to recreate that previous angle that made you breathless. Lifting your hips, you resume your shallow bounces on his desperately throbbing cock. His tip pushes against that soft spot deep within your core.

“F-fuck!” You whine, breaking the kiss to throw your head back.

Chan groans his pleasure and amusement. He drags his hands over the valley of your breasts before cupping your right one as he continues to support your back with his other arm. Despite his soft touch, he squeezes it firmly and sucks on your taut nipple.

His name trickles out of your mouth in a breathless moan. You sneak a glance down at him to find he is already looking up to you, the impressions of a smile on the corners of his lips. You push back his hair and he moans, vibrating his contentment against your sensitive nub.

“D-do you still want me to go-o slow?”

Chan releases your nipple with a wet pop. You tremble against him.

“I want you to bite me.”

You pause.

Chan tsks, and puts his hands on your hips. He moves your hips back up and down against himself. “If you stop again, I’m putting you on your back,” he threatens as he juts his own his up to meet yours.

Too stunned by his previous statement, you let him bounce you on his cock. You grip onto his shoulders, brows furrowed as you whine from the delicate friction.

“I can’t t-think—” you try to tell him.

“You don’t need to think,” he grunts as your breast brushes up on his tear-streaked cheeks from the force of every thrust. “Just bite me.”

You shake your head.

Those brown eyes are gleaming with notions of red. He’s drunk off the pheromones, possibly relieved by the fact that, based on your kiss, you are reconsidering the break up. He might even still be coming down from his heat. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.

“You don’t mean it.”

“Please,” he begs, voice breaking into a croaky rasp. “Please bite me, ____.”

Your breath hitches. You can feel his cock twitching. Is he just saying this because he wants to cum?

“Do it on my bicep,” he then adds, silencing your doubts, “I want it where everyone can see.”

You don’t remember summoning your fangs. However, judging by the way Chan doesn’t seem too surprised to see them, you assume your own eyes have been glowing red for a while.

“You’re sure?” You find yourself asking, gaze dancing between his left bicep and his face.

“A hundred percent,” he smiles.

You move your hair to one side, out of your way. Chan lays back down onto the mattress. You cease your thrusts to grind against him, recalling his previous threat. Grabbing a hold of his wrists, you hold his arms over his head.

Chan patiently watches you lean over him. Your heavy breasts jiggle against his face with every roll of your pelvis. The sight, the sensation of his thick girth pulsing against your walls for as long as it has, makes your toes curl. Remnants of the heat must be the only thing extending your stamina and endurance enough not to have cum yet.

As your teeth sink into his skin, a pang of euphoric anguish emits from your fangs. It resonates deep in your flesh, down to the marrow of your bones like the droning ding of a clock bell. All you hear is the hammering of hearts; all you see is the collision of veins, the entanglement of souls. You don’t mean to draw blood, you’re not sure if you’re even supposed to, but the taste of it solidifies authority over the foreign sensation coursing within your system.

Chan’s loud howl suddenly cuts through the powerful fog. His consistent withering beneath you pulls you out whatever trace you’ve fallen into. You retract your fangs to suck on the wound, licking away the blood as his wolfish genes quickly heal the area.

When you pull away, you find that you have stopped moving your hips, but you must admit that you are too consumed by the sight of the bite to care. Even healing, you can precisely make out your fangs between the other teeth marks now embedded in his flesh like a tattoo. It’s a pinkish red against his pale skin, blotching into a deep maroon as it attempts to heal.

His chest rises and falls steadily as you sit back on his lap. The jolt of friction between your hips snaps his eyes open. Red eyes meet your own.

Chan turns you over in a breath. He has you on your stomach in a blink. You don’t even feel him pull out of you. He just perks your ass up and shoves himself back in again.

“What did I fucking say,” he growls smacking your ass, “about stopping, you little slut?”

You whimper, wolfish nails tearing through his sheets. I was biting you, you want to shout. You were making sure he didn't bleed out. You don’t even remember stopping.

However, his thrusts are too forceful. He’s fucking the words right out of your mind.

Eyes rolling back, your body quakes. The knot in the base of your stomach, twisting and gnawing at you with every grind you previously rolled now becomes undeniably prominent. It grows as you moan, as he groans, craving—

“More please,” you weep, cheek smothered into the mess of pillows beneath you. “I-I need more!”

Chan tangles his fist in your hair. He uses his new grip to pull your back into his chest. One arm wraps around your middle, keeping you steady as he continues to pound into you. His other hand gathers your hair away from your shoulder. Lips soft, he kisses the nape of your neck.

You whimper, fangs poking out from your lips.

Maybe it's the smack of your ass against his hips, the wet squelch of your wetness, the thick scent of your sex, the heat of his breath on your sweaty skin. Maybe it’s the way he growls your name like a pitiful worshipper, thanking their lord for a blessing.

Whatever it may be, it manifests something primitive and carnal within him to snap.

And then you feel it— the blissful sting of a bite.

In the crook of where your neck meets your shoulder, Chan sinks his fangs into your skin. Where biting invoked sovereignty, being bitten provokes subjugation. An ache of euphoric agony pulsates from the infected area. Your muscles contract and relax with every breath Chan takes, your body submitting to the will of his. Your system almost resets as if a wave of ice water has splashed over your nerves. Heartbeat hammers, blood rushes to his pace, fogging your senses with him, him, him.

Chan retracts his fangs, licking the wound as you whimper in his arms.

You don’t realise you’re falling face first back into the bed until Chan readjusts his grip around your waist. He kisses the stinging bite wound, shushing you between your tremors and whines.

You wonder if you just came, the high of your climax rushing to your head and smothering your senses. You grip onto the rails of the bed frame, which were once knocking against the wall from the force of his hips, and sob his name between moans.

“It will hurt more if you don’t stay still,” Chan whispers, pulling you back into his chest.

The fullness of your core finally registers. You didn’t cum once, but twice. Chan had already cum with you, perhaps while he was biting you. And now you are locked in this position, both exhausted and weak, because he’s knotting.

You’ve never knotted, not with Chan, not with anyone. You thought it was as rare as finding a mate, knowing it does not occur unless both wolves are deeply connected and in the throes of their most primal instincts. 

“H-how long—”

“Just started,” he cuts you off, lips pressed against your neck.

“Is it supposed to hurt this much?” You ask, voice frail.

You feel Chan nod behind you as he inhales breath-fulls of your scent.

“I think so,” he groans. He rubs around your breasts to help soothe your trembles. “Just relax, baby.”

“You first,” you joke.

Chan breathes a laugh, summoning a smile to your lips. 

A comfortable silence settles over you. You want to turn to look at him, to press your forehead against his and stare into those dark, maroon eyes as he throbs and throbs and throbs against your sensitive walls. But even breathing sends sparks of lightning pain through your pelvis. All you can do is lean back into him as he licks and kisses your bite wound. 

“It already looks so pretty,” he whispers between wet kisses. 

You quietly moan before replying, “You didn’t let me get a good look at yours.” 

“Yeah, well you edged me last night,” he argues, “and warmed my cock for nearly fifteen minutes just now.”

“You were being cryptic,” you chuckle, only to quietly hiss at another pang of pain.

Though he’s smiling against you, Chan attempts to soothe you. He kisses behind your ear, tightens his grip around your waist, and gently rubs his thumbs against your skin.

You allow his scent lull you into steady, full breathes, and distract you from the faint stimulation of his pulsating cock deep inside you. Eventually, the twisting pressure against your walls gradually relaxes. A relieved sigh escapes you as your shoulders slump.

Chan swallows thickly. He takes his time pulling himself out of you and guiding you back onto the bed.

You clutch onto the soft comforter, curling your knees into your chest. Your bones still tremble, muscles still stiff and worn. The bed shifts behind you. You hear a shuffle of the sheets before a blanket drapes over your shaking frame.

Chan wraps his arm around you, pulling himself closer. “I will love you for eternity,” he sighs, kissing the bite wound. Then, in a near whisper, he promises, “I’ll make sure everyone knows it.” 

There is no room for doubt in his tone, words definitive. 

You rest your hand over his. Chests raising and falling in tandem, you reply, “That’s all I ever wanted.”

— — —

It smells of coffee and brunt blueberry pancakes. You wrinkle your nose, eyes squinting open.

Bright sunlight peaks into the room. A light breeze blows through the curtains. Sitting up, you look around at the torn mattress and sheets beside you. Despite the state of the bed, however, the room is tidy with your clothes folded neatly on Chan’s desk chair. A little smile plays on your lips. It’s just like him to clean up after a rough night.

Heavy breathes, hasty touches and whispered confessions, last night resurfaces to the forefront of your mind. You drift between contentment and relief at the memories. Reaching back, you graze your fingers over the wound. The indents of his teeth are still prominent and slightly tender to the touch. There is an obvious dip where his fangs pierced through skin. A part of you thought it must have been a dream, so you brush your fingers over the bite again and again. 

Still, it remains, faintly painful and heavy with promise.

You stand up, despite your stiff muscles and sore legs, to examine it through the mirror.

“I don’t want to discuss this anymore,” you hear Chan sigh in the other room.

Rubbing your eyes, you reach over to the chair for your clothes. You open the bedroom door while putting on your hoodie, expecting to be greeted with light notions of your chaotic scents from last night. However, with every window in the apartment open, candles lit and the smell of breakfast on the stove, you can barely make out Chan’s scent alone.

“Whatever,” Chan mutters as you shuffle down the hallway.

His bare back greets you, standing over the stove. He hangs up his phone, tossing it aside as he tends to his over cooked pancakes. 

Though you are sure you know, you still ask, “Who was that?”

Chan turns to face you, a sweet smile hovering over his lips once he takes in your dishevelled frame. “Not important,” he shrugs. 

You chew on your lip, twirling the hem of your shirt, before asking, “How upset are they?”

He lets out a little sigh. Turning back to the stove, he flips the last of the blueberry pancakes onto their plate then switches the stove off. You watch his back flex with each tense movement as he tries to gather his thoughts. You know this is serious, but you can’t help getting lost in his muscles. 

Then you notice it– the fanged wound on his bicep. Your knees buckle, breath hitches at the sight.

Chan snaps his attention back to you at the fraught sound, brows furrowed. It takes him a minute, but his eyes soon lock on the crook of your neck. A little knowing smile tugs on his lips. Exhaling deeply, he then confesses, “They’re furious,” he slides the finished plate on the kitchen island, “but I think it’s mostly because I avoided their calls yesterday.”

You’re not so sure that’s true. 

You don’t know Chan’s parents very well, but remember running into his mother for the first time a couple of years ago. She was dropping off a box of his old swim medals, chatting with him and Changbin in the living room. You came over to borrow Changbin’s foam roller. Your muscles had been particularly stiff that weekend and he told you to come by and grab it when you had time. It took all over two minutes but felt so much longer. The moment you walked in, Chris stopped talking mid-sentence and stared at you. 

“Oh, sorry,” you nervously chuckled. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.” 

“What did I tell you about apologising?” Chan asked, voice strained but firm. 

His mother blinked at him. 

Changbin rolled his eyes. He, like that rest of your friends, has gotten used to Chan’s abruptness with you. If anything, that was Chan being polite. 

“It’s in my room,” he said, nodding towards the hall. “Please don’t touch anything else.”

You hurried to grab the roller, the muted shuffles of your steps so loud against the silence of the living room. When you emerged from the hall again, Chan was already staring, as if he followed your frame to and from Changbin’s room. 

His mother was less than pleased.

“They just need time to adjust,” Chan reassures, pulling you out of your thoughts. 

“They never liked me,” you say with a slight shake of your head. 

Chan sighs. “They suspected that I had a crush on you. My mom always thought I acted weird whenever you were around.”

You smirk. “You did act weird.” 

“And you’re going to stand there, smelling like me, and tell me that you didn’t act weird around me too? Which one of us was caught sniffing laundry?” 

Your face burns, blood rushing to your cheeks. The memory of Chan finding you in his room, gripping onto a hoodie from his dirty hamper that was drenched in his sweaty scent flashes before your eyes. You tried to explain it away by saying that there was a terrible smell around his apartment and you were just hunting it down. The truth was you were about a week away from being in heat and he just smelled so fucking delicious.

Your knees wobble under the fixation of his darkening gaze at the reminder. Practically diving for the stool, you take a seat in front of the island and stare at the plates of food to avoid his cocky gaze. Eggs, waffles, jams, cheeses, and three types of pancakes clutter on the counter.

Desperate to change the subject you ask, “Feeding an army?”

Chan, ever so merciful, lets it slide, tonguing his cheek. “Something like that,” he jokes, reaching for the coffee pot. “Bin, Lix, Minho,” he lists as he grabs your favourite mug, “I got like six missed calls from Jeongin asking to see us when my heat’s over.”

Only now, as you watch Chan pour the coffee and splash in some creamer, do you realise that you told your friends you’d be right back hours ago and never returned. True, your excuse was weak and maybe a part of you did want them suspecting something out of spite for the way Chan had been treating you. But, you did not want them knowing that you left to have sex with him across the hall.

“Do you think they know?” you ask as he sets the cup in front of you.

Chan scratches the back of his neck.

Shit, you think at the sight of  his nervous look. “Please tell me they didn’t hear—”

You’re cut off by the front door opening. Jisung marches in with his chest puffed out and brows furrowed. He looks around as if inspecting the area before his gaze falls on the display of food. His eyes sparkle with intrigue, stern persona falling as he announces, “There’s breakfast!”

“Is everyone decent?” you hear Changbin ask.

Jisung seats himself beside you, already fixing himself a plate as he hums his confirmation.

Your friends spill in, attention consumed by the food. You get up from your spot to give them more space and linger beside Chan. He wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side.

It takes a minute, but Minho is the first to notice, rolling his eyes. Seungmin catches the gesture and looks over at you. He suppresses a disgusted snarl, muttering, “You’re both sickening.”

You sip from your coffee to keep from laughing as Chan shifts his weight beside you. There’s no doubt in your mind, from the exasperated sigh that escapes his lips, he’s glaring at the pair of them.

Felix bounces his brows at Chan, much to his embarrassment and your amusement. Jeongin lets out a nervous chuckle and shakes his head, commenting something about how you’re both more dramatic than Hyunjin.

Jisung looks between you, takes another big bite of his eggs and mumbles, “I’m trying to eat.”

Hyunjin flickers his attention between the pancakes and waffles, completely oblivious to Chan’s gesture or your friends’ reactions.

Changbin sets his plate down. He stands before both of you with his arms crossed. “Which one of you ruined my bed?” He asks, glare bouncing between you.

You untangle yourself from Chan, burying your face in your cup as you walk towards Minho. Chan shifts his weight. He scratches the back of his head and lets out a little, uneasy chuckle. “So listen—” he starts, only for Changbin to cut him off, diving into a long lecture about respecting others' property and owing him the cost of a new bed.

“Why didn’t you tell me,” Minho whispers, pulling you away from Changbin’s theatrics.

You turn to find hints of betrayal swimming in his eyes.

“I didn’t like lying to you,” you reassure, “He just wasn’t ready.”

Minho nods. He averts his gaze to his plate before finding a place at the dining table by Hyunjin and Felix.

You furrow your brows, sensing his disappointment. He always makes sure you’re the first to know anything that happens in his life. Guilt festers in your chest. You make a mental note to talk to him about it later, you owe him that much at least.

“And if I catch you in my room again,” Changbin threatens. He points at you as well, tearing your attention away from Minho. “I will kill you.”

You roll your eyes. “Grow up, Binnie. It’s not like you were using it right.”

His face falls as your friends laugh. Clenching his jaw, he replies, “It’s my room.”

“Not that night, it wasn’t,” Jeongin jokes.

As laughter fills the apartment, you catch Chan’s gaze. There’s that look again— pure admiration and devotion.

Get over here.

You blink as his voice echoes in your mind like the chime of a fateful bell, ringing, howling.

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work.