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beomcoups · 1 month ago

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fated strut- pt. i

̗̀➛ 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: greek god!Jeonghan x model!reader

̗̀➛ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: In a whirlwind fashion show, a part-time model's life takes a mystical turn when she becomes the muse for the captivating Greek God Jeonghan. Unbeknownst to her, she shares a deep connection tied to his past. As their chemistry ignites amidst secrets and rivalries, will love conquer their complicated fates?

̗̀➛ 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, angst, smut, fantasy, doppleganger au, r 18+

̗̀➛ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: nocturnal emission (sex dream), unprotected sex, kissing, fingering, backshots, riding, oral, biting, hair pulling, multiple orgasms, pet names, sweet stuff, a lil bit of squirting, cream pie, oh and cursing 😂

̗̀➛ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 7.2k

̗̀➛ 𝐀𝐍: This fic has had me stressed for the last couple of months lol. I have always been into greek mythology (I even hosted a multi collab before for it) and I got the idea earlier this year to do another one but just for seventeen. Thank you Maren @wooahaeproductions for hosting the 13 Gods Of Olympus collab with me and helping it come to life. Also thank you to @hannieween and @hobeemin for beta reading this and giving me some much needed feedback. I knew what I had was good and with your help it made it better :) also thank you to @cheolism and @junkissed for letting me run some ideas with them about the greek mythology and the BC era lol. I hope you like this 🖤

Golden light filters through your curtains, casting soft shadows that dance across the room. The scent of something sweet—honey and vanilla—lingers in the air, pulling at the edges of your consciousness. Everything feels so real and vivid, so alive. There is a haze in the light that looks nostalgic.

You are sitting on a kline, handcrafted by Hephaestus himself, weaving away with a ball of twine in your hands. The clatter of sandals against the hard floor gets your attention. Looking up, Jeonghan is standing there, his blonde hair shimmering in the light, with a playful smile on his lips.

“Shouldn’t be off delivering those messages to the mortals?” You tease him playfully.

“They can wait,” he says, setting down his bag. “I have more pressing matters to attend to.”

“Oh?” You slowly set down your twine. “What is that?”

He walks over and kisses you deeply, sending ripples through your soul. You realize quickly that the “pressing matter” was that he wanted to be inside of you, and you were more than happy to oblige.

“Jeonghan, you’re going to get in trouble with Zeus,” you taunt him.

“I don’t care,” he grits, pulling you into another kiss.

You take off your gown, your nakedness exposed to him in all its glory. Jeonghan’s eyes you with adoration and lust, his hand palming the growing bulge under his toga. Sheer excitement runs through your veins, the thought of being roughly fucked on the kline making you wet with arousal. As if he read your mind, he tugs at your hair and bends you over, his fingers seductively playing with your sweet folds.

“You’re already so wet for me, my love?” He licks your essence coated on his digits. “I have to break the rules more often.”

Your laugh is light as the air, anticipating and craving him deeply. You find yourself pressing your clit, spreading your legs apart, and rubbing it so he can get a better view. Jeonghan licks his lips at the sight before him, his hand stroking his cock as he lines up to your entrance.

“Please,” your breathy moans floating in the room. “Give it to me.”

“As you wish,” he murmurs as he inserts himself in your clenching heat. Your back arches as his thrusts go deep, the clapping sound of your skin against his hard and loud enough to create thunder from the heavens. Jeonghan looks down in amusement, watching your ass bounce every time he snaps his hips. He’s turned on and seduced, and you could have him turn into puddy with just one look. That’s how much he is into you. That’s how much he loves you.

“You feel s-so g-good,” you barely sound out. “I-I love you.”

Jeonghan pulls you by your hair, his thrusts unrelenting as he kisses you hard. “I love you too.”

He raises his leg on the kline, pushing you back down, and strokes you from another angle. Your legs shake, your peak nearing as he continues to hit your pleasure points in all the right ways. “FUCK” is all you can scream out before you come undone, your essence squirting all over him and the floor. You are a whimpering mess, clutching the edge of the kline as he continues his onslaught until his release comes shortly after. He fills you up with his hot load, pumping his dick until he is spent, slowly slipping out of you. The loss is evident, and his cum starts to drip in between your folds.

“Uh, uh,” he frowns as he crouches behind you. “We can’t leave that to waste, can we?”

He swipes what’s dripping down your leg with his fingers, returning them to your mouth to suck. You suck them with earnest, your eyes closing with sexual gratification. He turns you wild, and you want more. You attempt to initiate another round, but you are interrupted by the sound of thunder just outside your window, scaring you half to death.

“Sounds like the big guy is mad,” Jeonghan reluctantly pulls away. “I have to go.”

“Yeah, I know,” you nod, kneeling down to grab your gown. “You’ll be back, right?”

He gazes at you with the softest eyes you have ever seen, letting him pull you close into another kiss. “Don’t I always come back?”

Your world shifts into a fading memory, the golden haze slowly replaced with stark brown walls and paintings. Jeonghan is gone. The thunder outside is as real as ever, followed by a bolt of lightning that feels too close to home. Reality slowly sets in, and you realize you are having a dream. This is the second one you have had this week with Jeonghan, the infamous Greek god. It feels natural, like you’re watching a memory of yourself, and you don’t understand it.

You frantically grab your journal, jotting down every moment before the details get fuzzy and lost forever. This has to mean something, right?

A few weeks later...

You feel the galvanic buzz of anticipation humming as you stand backstage at Paris Fashion Week. Models twirl past you, dripping in the latest haute couture, their expressions exuding fierceness. You? You were just happy to be there. As the last-minute addition, the unexpected wildcard about to open the show—your heart races, matching the rhythm of the music that spills into the warehouse. The scent of expensive cologne and crepitus excitement lingers around you.

You weren’t even supposed to be here at all. You model in your part-time to pay the bills, but your real love, your true passion, is classical studies—specifically, your focus on Greek mythology. Growing up, you’ve always heard the stories of the Gods who ruled the world and how slowly but surely they started disappearing because people quit believing in them. Your mom, who raised you pagan, would tell you about missionaries coming over and preaching the Bible and using it in force, and people started losing their way and adapting to this new life. There are still gods amongst us who will never go away, no matter what. People are still human and have needs, after all.

That’s what brought you here tonight—Jeonghan, the god of many things, keeps appearing in your dreams; scenes of a past life take up much of your night, and you can’t ignore it anymore. You have to see and know him, and you aren’t above using unconventional methods to get what you want. You cozied up to the right people and got yourself cast onto his fashion show. Sometimes, all it takes is a look, a touch of your hand, or very selective words to get what you want. You aren’t sure you would call it a power… let’s just say you are persuasive.

“Thank the gods you are here tonight,” the stage manager, Lea, says as she adjusts your dress. “I can’t believe she didn’t show up.”

The model that was supposed to open up the show, Penelopeia, partied a little too hard the night before. How do you know this? You were right beside her, dancing and drinking the night away. You knew her in passing, working for the same modeling agency, and talked here and there, but you two aren’t friends. But you were out with acquaintances last night, and she was there. Ultimately, she is a grown woman and can make her own choices, but you might’ve given her some extra encouragement when she complained about her being tired and “needing�� a break. You told her it was “fine” to blow off some steam, which wouldn’t mean anything. The touch of your hand when you held hers and listened to her cry about how tough her life is and whispered nothings in her ear. It was perfect.

“Are you ready?”

You nod as the music changes, the lights dim, and you take your place behind the runway. Your heartbeat matched the drum's beat in your ears.

“I'm like some kind of supernova... watch out!”

On cue, you walked, every gaze drawn to you as your body moved to the beat, each step a spell cast upon the audience. Unbeknownst to you, Jeonghan stood backstage, mesmerized by the essence you exuded, a natural allure that made him curious with its intensity.

You circle the runway and walk back to where you came from, your body on autopilot as your linen dress sashes across your body. You are rushed backstage, the dress slipping off of you hurriedly, briefly exposing your breasts while you are putting on another. You feel eyes burning into the back of your neck, and you instinctively turn around, meeting Jeonghan's soft brown eyes. His warm blonde locks hang below his ears, touching his delicate neck. He smirked, raising his glass of red wine, and you meekly looked away, clearly affected by a god's presence.

Jeonghan watches you intently as you take another lap around the runway. The familiarity of your presence slowly creeps in, and curiosity is taking care of the cat. He’s been around for a long time now, and he’s seen a lot of faces, old and new. But you remind him of an old lover from his past life, someone he prefers to keep buried in the back of his mind. You were clearly a doppelganger of her, and watching you in the flesh unnerves him to his core. There is no need to bring up thousands-year-old drama now. You’re in front of him now, beautiful as ever, and despite every red flag— he will have you wrapped around his fingers by the end of the night.

You walk backstage and are dragged to the side by your dresser, who is adjusting your clothes one last time for your final walk. She fusses with your hair, a small annoyance you put up with because you know she is doing her job. You find yourself searching for Jeonghan through the slew of models, your eyes not resting until you see him talking to his stage assistant near the beginning of the runway. He is a god in every sense of the word. Butterflies flutter in the pit of your stomach when you see his soft, delicate features and how he carries himself. Very deific, very mindful.

“He’s mesmerizing, isn’t he?”

You slowly come out of your self-induced trance, meeting the eyes of your dresser, Helen, a younger woman who couldn’t be older than 21. Her doe-eyed look makes her look innocent, and you feel the need to protect her from this cruel industry.

“He’s okay,” you clear your throat.

“Oh please, he’s a divine enigma,” Helen chuckled, a playful smirk gracing her lips. “It’s perfectly natural to admire someone’s allure, especially someone so utterly enchanting as HIM.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at her outburst, knowing that deep down, she was right. Jeonghan is the sexiest man you have ever laid eyes on. It doesn’t help that he is the god of fortune, luxury, and all the other things that make him much more attractive.

“Okay, it’s time to do the final walk,” Helen announces as she finishes up. “You are going to walk out with him in front since you technically walked first in the show.”

You gaze at Jeonghan across the way, watching him wrap up his conversation with the stage assistant. “Is this custom? I thought usually the models walk out one final time, and then the designer comes out towards the end.”

“Usually, yeah,” Helen shrugs. “But that’s not how Jeonghan does things.”

She lightly pushes you towards the front, catching his attention as the strobe lights change colors. You glowed in your dress, symbolizing a halo of beauty that made it hard for Jeonghan to turn away. This catches him off guard, a strange chill running through his veins that he is unfamiliar with. Keeping himself in line, he saunters over to you, his close proximity filling your stomach with butterflies.

“Don’t be nervous, baby,” he whispers in your ear. “I don’t bite.”

The thought of his perfect mouth giving you love bites thrills you, and an intense longing starts to brew within your core. Feeling bold, you smile softly, responding in a tone only he could hear.

“Well, that’s too bad.”

Jeonghan chuckles lightly, impressed by your cheekiness. He slips his arm between yours, waiting for the curtains to open. The light touch of his arm brushing against yours gives you goosebumps, the exuberance bubbling inside you. You’ve studied him all your life, read the stories, and visited the ancient sites from many moons ago. You have never been near a Greek god, let alone touch one, and for a moment, you forget why you were really there. You were just a pretty model, attracted to the most successful man in the world, and the way he looks at you right now is setting your loins on fire.

The curtains finally open, and you walk with him arm and arm like you were his equal. The other models did as they were supposed to do, walking behind you as you two set the runway ablaze. You stood in the center while he gave his bows; the audience applauded in crescendos. Jeonghan then returns to your side, his presence intoxicating and making you almost lose your senses. You walk in unison until you reach backstage, and Helen is waiting for you to help you out of your dress. Before you parted ways, he lightly touched your hand, grabbing your attention and Helen’s, with raised eyebrows.

“I’m interested in sharing another stage with you,” he whispers, his brown eyes gleaming with desire. “Without all the light and people watching us. Beyond the runway.”

You cock an eyebrow playfully, putting on your best poker face, but inside, nervousness eats at you alive. You know you shouldn’t do this, as your sole reason was to find answers about him and why he encompasses your every dream. It took a lot of sweet talking and favors to get you in his lineup, let alone starting the show and inadvertently being his muse of the day. You knew you were going to have to mix your business with pleasure, and with the way he is gazing at you, the business is going further in the back of your mind.

“Where do I sign up?” You say coyly, rubbing your finger against the fabric of his shirt.

“Meet me in the back in fifteen minutes, and I’ll take you to my place.”

You nod, and he leaves you with a soft kiss on your cheek. “Don’t be late.”

You watched him walk away, still feeling his warm lips on your cheek. You kept it cool, casually grabbing your things, but inside, you were buzzing, excitement bursting through your chest like fireworks. You weren’t sure what the night would bring, but you would never turn down the possibility of being in the company of a Greek god.

You make your way to the back as directed, exchanging goodbyes with Helen and watching the models leave one by one. Fifteen minutes exactly, Jeonghan appears, twirling his car keys in his hands and opening the back door for you, leading you to a classic Mercedes Benz 250CE. He opens your door like the gentleman he is, making sure you are secure in your seat before coming over to the driver’s side.

“Are you ready to go, doll?”

You nod, your sparkling eyes matching your smile. “Yeah, let’s go.”

The car ride was a short one, but it felt like it was going on forever. He played smooth jazz, driving with one hand and conveniently placing his hand on your thigh. Your mind was filled with thoughts of your dreams—the intimacy you felt and the sadness that tormented you when he disappeared.

“You seem comfortable,” Jeonghan observed. “Most people would be scared to be with me.”

“Well, I have a feeling I am in good hands,” you answer honestly.

You had so many questions about him as a Greek god, as it's not often (or really at all) that you can talk to one. Despite these waves of emotions tugging at your heart, you maintained a flawless facade until you arrived at his residence, a beautiful hotel that housed penthouses only the wealthy lived in.

“Welcome in.”

The housekeeper greeted you as you walked into Jeonghan’s penthouse, located in the heart and soul of Paris. The interior was dripped in luxury, feeling more like an art gallery than a place to live. Everything has a place, and it makes you nervous about even moving around in the event you accidentally bump into something. The vinyl player played soulful jazz, a fancy concert piano was in the corner and hundreds of books lined up like his own personal library. Jeonghan guides you by your waist to the kitchen, a grand spectacle of the finest cooking ware, dishes, and appliances that were way above your budget. You sit on a stool while he pours you a glass of red, the finest from Chateauneuf du Pape.

“Nice place,” you sweet talk him. “I would say you must’ve worked hard to get all this, but I know better.”

“Do you?” He counters, handing you your glass. “Do you think you know everything?”

“I know what I know from books, archives, etcetera,” you explain casually. “It’s not like I can ring up Zeus and ask him to read me a bedtime story.”

His lips curve as he chuckles, watching you sip the rich ruby-red liquid in your glass. “You have a sense of humor. I like that.”

You smirked, leaving him to his thoughts as you walked towards the large picture window, looking at the Eiffel Tower. It’s late, but the city has so much life in it. The tall, grandeur buildings that have stood through the ages are accompanied by French lights and taxis flying back and forth at night. Between your studies, walking runways, and doing commercial shoots, it was a matter of time before you made it out of the United States and into Paris.

You aren’t this in-demand model agencies are banging the door down for. But when you come to work, you work. You know how to convince people to take a chance on you, whether it's your words of intellect or how you pose. Your mom always taught you to be observant and scope the scene before you act; that advice hasn’t stirred you wrong before.

In the window's reflection, you watch Jeonghan gently place his glass on the table, the soft clink barely breaking the serene silence. He strides to your right, his presence warm and magnetic as he stands beside you, eyes mesmerized by the sprawling cityscape before you.

“So why are you here? Aside from the obvious.”

Jeonghan’s question catches you off guard, stirring you out of your peaceful daydream.

“What do you mean?”

“Come on, baby,” Jeonghan cocks his head. “Don’t play coy.”

Your response hangs in the air as you search for the right words. How do you confess to a god that you've been dreaming of them without knowing why? You are sure they have heard it all before, and you wouldn’t be any different.

“Honestly speaking,” you start, taking another sip of your wine. “I’ve studied you all my life: the Greek Gods and the beings you used to be on Earth. Your stories fascinate me, and I want to put this master’s degree in classical studies to good use.”

“Uh huh,” Jeonghan hums. “Are you sure that’s it?”

“I mean, I may have other reasons… but I can’t tell you all my secrets.”

You finish the remnants in your glass, sauntering and setting it next to his. You glance up, your heart beating fast as you meet his gaze. He watches you intently, a spark of amusement dancing in his beautiful brown eyes as he watches you internally squirm. At that moment, it feels as though the world has narrowed down to just the two of you, and you feel yourself being sucked into his spell.

“Well, are you going to stare at me all night or show me around this place?”

You raise your hand, waiting for him to grab it and lead the way. He does just that, showing you around his massive penthouse. You don’t know if you could ever afford this place even if you had all the money in the world. Every room has its bathroom, and the balcony is beautifully decorated with a view to die for. You notice another room with more books than the collection you saw earlier, and you make a note later to ask about it… even hoping to take a peek at potentially ancient history.

Jeonghan slipped his hand on your waist as the tour went on, pulling you close like you were already his. His slender fingers held on to you kind of tight, like he was imprinting on you… You can’t say you don’t like that.

You stop in front of his bedroom, the dark forest green double-doored room paired with gold handles waiting to be opened. You gaze at Jeonghan, who leans against the door, casually putting his hands in his pockets.

“Is there a reason why we are just standing here?” You pose, playing with the hem of his shirt.

“No reason at all,” he responds, pulling you closer to him. “I just like looking at my bedroom door closed, that’s all.”

You raise an eyebrow, quite aware that he is teasing you. Being around him gives you a rush through your veins, a magnetic pull that sets your nerves and soul on fire. You know you should be doing a better job fighting this attraction between you two, but being around him makes you slowly lose all of your senses. He’s intoxicating; you feel hazy, like you are in a dream and don’t want to wake up.

“So, are you going to sweet talk me in front of this door all night, or are you going to let me in?”

He chuckles softly as he opens his doors, leading to a grand master bedroom that all of the words in the dictionary couldn’t come close to describing. You knew he was the god of luxury, but what’s in front of your eyes exceeds that. This is opulence in its purest form. His massive king-size bed was decked with the finest white blankets and pillows filled with goose feathers that looked handcrafted with care. Your toes bask in the softest fur rug you have ever touched. It felt like you were walking on clouds. Jeonghan motions for you to sit on the bed, taking your hand as he helps you climb up. Your dress rises a bit, exposing your inner thigh to your surprise and his delight.

“Don’t get any ideas,” you rib, crossing your legs slowly.

“Don’t worry, baby. You’ll give me an invitation by the end of the night.”

You roll your eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you adjust your dress. Watching him move with purpose to his shelf, he pulls out a vinyl and puts it in the player. Recognizing Billie Holiday's distinct and powerful voice, you lean back into the pillows and watch him approach the other side of the bed. With a snap of his fingers, the lights dim, opening the curtains and revealing another side of Paris, a quieter one that shows the city below. The ceiling separates slowly, revealing a twilight blue skyline with dark clouds surrounding you. It’s beautiful.

You feel the bed shift on your left, and Jeonghan climbs quietly, his movements as light as a cat. He lifts the comforter, a gentle invitation for you to come under as his feet disappear under the thick cover.

“Are you this friendly with all the women you bring over?” You smirk, raising an eyebrow.

“Nope,” his laugh is light as he rakes his fingers through his hair. “Just the ones I like.”

You nod, following his lead and slowly basking into the warm cover. You can still see him in the low light, his radiance shining through the dark room. Maybe it’s because of your extensive research of him and your knowledge, but he feels familiar. Every fiber in your body tells you to pull closer to him and confess every little thought swirling in your head. Is this what it’s like to be in front of a god?

“So, a master's in Classical Studies, huh?” Jeonghan probes, his index finger making a swirling motion on his sheets. “Let me guess, you have a focus on Greek mythology?”

Despite putting on your best poker face, you felt like something bitter went down your throat. He caught you off guard, and to be frank, it’s your fault. The god of many things and the most intelligent being to walk on this Earth would of course know who you are. He probably had your whole life story while you walked on his runway.

“Ah,” you exhale. “You must think I’m crazy.”

“Nah, I don’t,” he assures. “I’m very intrigued by you.”

“Are you?”

“Yes. You’re smart, carry yourself well, almost as witty as me, and very well-spoken. Why do you choose to model instead of working in something with your degree?”

You stare at him, his words chipping away at your exterior piece by piece. You could sit here and come up with a lie that sounds plausible and keep your secrets. But you want to know why he keeps plaguing your dreams, and maybe he has the answers you need to make sense of this. Some honesty can’t hurt, right?

“I… like the attention,” you confess. “I like the way people look at me when I walk by. I love being adored and wanted. I like that I am so educated and an effective communicator that I can talk myself into things I want to be in. That and my looks combined? I don’t get turned down often.”

Jeonghan gazes at you, wondering if he should be amazed at your self-awareness or frightened. Admittedly, your confidence turns him on, and you have the kind of intellect he likes on a deeper level. Your voice is calm and seductive without even trying, and not to mention, you have a timeless beauty that makes it hard to look away. When you walked down that runway, your stride was a beautiful masterpiece—it held him captive. It was as if you were trained by Aphrodite herself.

“Plus, I am not totally abandoning my degree,” you continue on. “I want to eventually write about the Greek gods and the legends behind them. So many stories and their lore have been forgotten as people worship other gods, and I don’t want that to be forgotten. It feels like a passion project, but I know this will benefit the world somehow.”

“How?”

“Well,” you clear your throat. “It will provide a different perspective of ancient civilization.”

You run your hands through your hair, causing the v top of your dress to shift slightly, partially revealing your cleavage. You reach down to adjust it, and Jeonghan eyes your every move as you gradually slide your dress back up. It’s your favorite dress, which you picked up at a thrift store a long time ago in New York. It’s a jade green evening dress that hugs your body the right way, with a mid-thigh split on the right.

“You’re quiet,” you observe, shifting your body closer to him. “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing, just taking in what you said.” He pauses, his finger slowly sliding down to the slit of your dress. “I like the way you think.”

You nod, carefully choosing your next words. “I’m glad I made you feel that way.”

Your insides are on fire, begging for him to touch you in all the wrong right places. As if he could read your mind, he pulls you in for a kiss, his soft lips tearing down any walls you had. In a swift motion, he’s on top of you, hiking your dress up as he grinds his growing bulge against your sensitive core. A pleased hum escapes your lips, your body completely giving in to him.

“Mmm, you smell sweet,” Jeonghan utters, biting the bottom of your lip. “I’m sure you’ll taste just as good.”

His lips travel down your neck, sucking on your smooth skin until it's tender. Your hands desperately grab onto his silky blond hair as his tongue plays in circles along your collarbone, igniting a fire in you. You slowly lower the straps of your dress, tugging at the silky fabric until it lowers completely, revealing your breasts. Jeonghan marvels at the sight in front of him, his fingers brushing softly against your nipples.

“Ah, you’re a goddess,” he whispers. “I’m going to have fun with you.”

He kisses you again, his hunger for you hot and strong as he unbuttons his shirt, revealing his smooth chest and defined abs. Fire and desire burn between you two, and you thirstily tug at his pants, pushing them down so you can see his cock, threatening to break free in his boxers.

“You are an eager little thing, aren’t you?”

“I just know what I like, that’s all.”

Leaving you with one last kiss, he moves on your breasts, cupping them softly and sucking on your nipples with such tenderness as if they were prized possessions. Your perfume mix smells pleasant to him, like an aphrodisiac, and he cannot get enough. Jeonghan usually likes to play with his food a bit before he eats it, but you bring something out of him that he hasn’t felt in a long time: impulsiveness and passion. He wants you more than he cares to admit, making him act out of his cool, calm, and collected nature. He sucks on your nipples harder, earning a hard moan from you, the blend of pleasure and pain igniting waves of excitement that leaves you breathless.

His hand slips in between your legs, pushing them apart and sliding your panties to the side. His thumb rubs your clit softly, sending jolts of pleasure throughout your body. Jeonghan has you feeling like you are floating on air, unable to tell him what you want coherently.

“Mmm… fuck I can’t take this,” you mutter.

“Well, you will learn tonight, baby,” Jeonghan smirks as he lowers himself to your sweet entrance. “Tell me what you want.”

“F-fuck,” you cooed. “You know what I want.”

“Just because I am a god doesn’t mean I can read your mind,” he teases, biting softly on your thigh. “Tell me what you want.”

You feel hot and rabid, trying to chase a high you are so close to getting. Jeonghan removes his thumb from your nub, snickering as he watches you groan in protest. He is determined to make you beg for it, and watching you squirm and fall apart underneath him would be the highlight of his night. He inserts a digit inside your wet core; a sweet smile spreads across your face soon after.

“J-Jeonghan,” you sputter. “P-please just—”

“Say it, baby.”

“Fuck, just make me cum, please.”

Jeonghan slips a second finger into you, leaving small kisses on your thigh as he thrusts into your wet cunt. Your hands grip the sheets as he goes deeper, watching excitedly as your essence coats his fingers and his sheets. He planned to study you, explore what made you tick, and how your body liked to be teased. He wants to hear your perfect voice scream his name as your body shakes from being royally fucked by a god, and the way you are laid out in front of him, he is losing all composure.

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs. “I think you deserve to cum now.”

Quickly removing his fingers, he dives into your wet folds with his tongue and up to your sensitive clit. His fingers intertwine with yours, eating you with such a craze, the hunger of a starved being who is eating his favorite meal for the last time. The vibrating hums of his mouth to your delicate flower sends you over the edge, your orgasm crashing down on you hard. He holds onto your thighs, holding you hostage as he takes everything you got. You proved him right—you tasted just as sweet as your perfume. He’s addicted to your aroma, a natural aphrodisiac that he will never get enough of.

“There you are, princess, ” he whispers. “Keep giving it to me.”

Your moans turn into whines and then screams, your fingers desperately clinging to the sheets as he drinks you in. Jeonghan’s appetite is insatiable, and the god’s thirst for you is getting stronger by the minute. His nails dig into your thighs as he licks up and down your folds, desperate to taste more of your sweet essence. You feel airy, your body floating on cloud nine as if you have never had this kind of pleasure before. Sure, you have had your experiences and what you thought was the best sex of your life, but those don’t even come close to this.

“Come on baby, give me another,” he goads you. “I know you have it in you.”

“J-Jeonghan,” you croak, desperation falling on your lips. “P-please. You win.”

“Win?” He chuckles softly. “ I haven’t even started.”

His fingers return to your entrance, thrusting into you while his tongue remains on your clit. His lips make lewd noises, slurping and smacking away as he bullies you into your second orgasm of the night. Your toes curl, the springs in your abdomen snapping as it ripples through you like a hard wave. Jeonghan moans into your sweet core as you surrender to him; his pupils dilate as he takes the remaining energy that you have left. His free hand furiously pulls down his boxers, liberating his cock, and he touches himself at last. He jerks himself to the thought of your mouth wrapped around his dick, tasting his cum as he shoots loads down your throat. He could easily stop and make his imagination a reality, but you just taste too damn good.

“Damn,” you curse, brushing his hair from his face. “You are so good at this.”

“Mmhmm,” is all he could say, his cruel tongue still playing circles around your clit. You lift yourself away from him, watching him pout as you take his meal. You can barely move, your legs still spasming from that earth-shattering orgasm. Your eyes travel lower to his freed cock, watching him pump himself with such eagerness, the precum oozing from his tip begging to be sucked. He was thick and girthy, his veins popping in places you liked. Your mouth salivates at the thought of tasting him in your mouth.

“Can I?”

You sit up, gently motioning for him to lay back on the pillow. Curiosity gets the better of him, and he does what he is told, relaxing his hands behind his head. Jeonghan isn’t used to his playmates wanting to take control in the bedroom; most of them just want to have a story to tell about being fucked by a god. You excite him, a confident woman who knows what they want and isn’t apologetic about it. The twinkle in your eye you have for him turns him on, and he is counting the seconds where he can finally be inside of you.

Your hand slides up his shaft, watching him shudder from your touch. You lean down, sucking on his tip and tasting his precum. You make eye contact as you take more of him, hallowing your cheeks and letting saliva drip out of the corners of your mouth. He tastes better than you imagined, and you feel gratification watching his lips part and low moans escape his pretty little mouth. You feel dirty, like his own personal whore, and you aren’t mad at that. Your very sensitive core still wants him, your clit pulsating at the thought of his very thick cock beating your walls down.

“You look so beautiful with your lips wrapped around me, princess,” he grunts, taking a handful of your hair. “Let’s see if you can handle me.”

Jeonghan fucks your mouth roughly with such a force and rhythm that was only his, tears streaking your face as you take him whole. His dick hits the back of your throat, and you are thankful that you have a mean gag reflex. It’s smooth, clean, and fits your mouth just right. It’s like it was molded and shaped just for you. Your hand sneaks in between your legs, playing with your nub and willing yourself to cum for the third time.

“Tsk, tsk, you dirty girl,” Jeonghan murmurs between grunts. “You do want me that bad? Do you want my cock inside your wet cunt?”

You nod fervently, your fingers increasing their pace. He pulls himself out of your mouth suddenly, lifting your head and kissing you with such an intense fire, his hands grasping your ass and giving it a tight smack.

“I want to ride you, baby,” you breathe between kisses. “I want to feel you inside of me. Give me that, please.”

He wants you as bad as you want him, his adrenaline pumping through his veins as he positions himself on the bed. His hands grab your hips, hovering over him as he aligns his cock to meet your entrance. The thought came to your mind about using a condom, but it went away quickly when you sunk onto him. He feels good; your walls tighten around him as you adjust to his size, rocking slowly back and forth to get a rhythm.

“That’s it,” Jeonghan groans as he cups your breasts. “Take me however you want me.”

You increase your pace while he bucks into you, biting your lip until it's crimson red. His nails dig into your hips, the pain mixed with the pleasure sending you soaring through cloud nine. You lose all inhibition, riding him harder and deeper, addicted to chasing that orgasmic high that you feel coming sooner than you’d expected. Your body is on autopilot, refusing to stop until you’ve cummed on him at least once. If you didn’t know any better, you would say you were falling in love with him. The sex you had with him in your dreams doesn’t even come close to the real thing. His cock consistently hits all the right places, and he pays great attention to your body, teasing you and pushing you to your limits until you are sent over the edge.

Jeonghan grabs you by your neck and kisses you deeply, thrusting deeper into you until you can no longer keep your composure. He loves watching you lose control, surrendering your body to him and screaming his name loud enough for the neighbors to hear. His lips are slightly parted, whispering sweet things in your ear, praising you for taking him so well and rewarding you with filling you up with his cum. You look every bit fucked out and heavenly to him, and he wishes he could stay buried inside of you forever. What he feels for you is risky, and if it were someone else, he would turn those feelings off. But with you and the way you are taking him so well, he is completely into you.

He helps you ride out your high, kissing you from your lips to your collarbone until you are overripe with sensitivity. Slowly lifting you, he lays you gently on his right, allowing you to catch your breath.

“I-I don’t think I have ever been fucked like that before,” you confess in between breaths. “Are you sure you’re not the god of love?”

Jeonghan chuckles, putting on a robe and heading towards the bathroom. Looking at himself in the mirror, he notices a few scratches you left, noticeable dig marks from your nails that dug into his skin. He shrugs them off, knowing that the next day, they will disappear, and it will be like they were never there. He’s been on this Earth for a long time and has slept his way through all the women and men he desired, but this night with you has topped all of them. He feels a connection with you mentally and spiritually, and after feeling you for the first time, he is determined to keep you by his side. By all means.

Your eyes are heavy with exhaustion, the day’s events catching up to you as your body acclimates with the sheets. You hear soft water running from the bathroom, and a few seconds later, Jeonghan appears in front of the door, his robe removed and naked. You glance at him and smirk, slowly getting out of bed and walking towards him. He is a divine enigma indeed.

“Don’t worry, darling,” he assures you. “It’ll be a nice, relaxing bath.”

His bathroom was definitely tailored to his taste. It had white and forest green marble floors, a shower stall big enough for more than three people centered in the middle, and two vanity sinks placed on opposite ends of each other. The tub was round and spacious, placed by the circular window that allowed you to see the stars at night. You slowly step into the foaming water, the sweet aroma of vanilla and bergamots filling your senses and pleasing your soul. Jeonghan comes in behind you, the water slightly splooshing around as his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you close. You relax on his chest, feeling at peace as you stare outside the window. It feels so natural, feeling this comfortable around him.

Your dreams of him show that you two had a successful relationship. You were partners in everything. He was good at communicating, and you knew how to support him and could persuade anyone if needed. You understood your roles, and you were perfect. So why do they always end with you walking away?

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Jeonghan’s voice breaks through your reverie.

He unwraps his arms around you, places his hands on your shoulders, and gives you a comforting massage. You close your eyes, letting the steam from the warm water relax your muscles.

“Heading back home,” you sigh heavily. “I have some go-sees to book and also continue my research. I have to put these looks and my big brain to use.”

“Yeah, no, you’re not,” Jeonghan declares smoothly. “I want you to stay here and work for me. Become my new muse.”

He watches you react closely, his eyes shining with mischief. “Just think about it. You would be my inspiration, my spark. Imagine the kind of magic we would create together.”

He catches you off guard but excites you nevertheless. Jeonghan wants to make you the face of his brand. You would be crazy to turn that down. Plus, it makes you so much closer to your research and figuring out your dreams. This was the universe giving you a sign.

“Yeah,” you say after thinking it over. “I would be open to that.”

You sink further into his chest, your tiredness getting the best of you, and falling into a slumber in the warm water. Jeonghan leaves light kisses on your shoulder, watching you sleep peacefully in his arms. He could go for another glass of wine, a perfect way to top off his night with you. He knows getting entangled with his ex-lover’s doppelganger is risky business, and eventually, he will have to deal with the truth of things. But tonight is not the night to open Pandora’s box and bring up the ancient feelings and heartache that he’s put behind. Instead, he will lay here with you, enjoying the sereneness while it lasts.

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nackrosor · 11 months ago

Text

~Your Wish~

(Part 3/3)

Part 1 - Part 2

Brahms Heelshire x nanny!Reader

warnings/tags: nsfw, smut, dub-con (with very dubious p in v), power dynamics, mommy issues, Brahms is a perv through and through

word count: 2,9k.

author's notes: this is the filthiest thing I've ever written, I swear. I tried to imbue this with all my naughtiness lmao I hope it was enough! Also, here's some art I made 'cause I'm that generoussss. I hope you enjoy the food! Bon appétit! 🤤🌹

"Did I scare you, Y/N? I didn't mean to..."

He grimaced at the way his child voice came out broken and less convincing than usual, but in his state, even simply speaking was a feat.

You had been sluggishly fighting against his persistent grip on you, yet once you heard him speak, a loud gasp of shock escaped you, and your body stiffened under his. The way you tensed up made your back arch and your ass stick out even more. His focus shifted to your half-clad bottom, which was hovering only inches from his face. The drenched fabric of your panties had somehow stuck to the side, teasing him - torturing him - with that mouthwavering sight of you.

Oh, what a struggle it was for him to refrain from seeking your heat again and then shoving himself inside you, once and for all. He was shivering with restraint while proceeding to keep you pinned to the mattress. He wasn't sure how much longer he could hold himself back, though.

He wanted you to know who he was before he finally and thoroughly claimed you as his. His pride somehow exceeded his yearning.

"B-Brahms...?" You hesitantly whispered his name, hoping to catch a glimpse of him behind your shoulder. You could only make out a dark silhouette in your peripheral vision, for both the darkness of the room and his tight clasp prevented you from seeing anything else. "How-? W-what?"

Your voice was a little louder this time, and you sounded sharper. He also noticed with satisfaction that you were now remaining still under his hold. That was good. It would make things easier. He'd prefer not to fight you, not to force you... But if you were to refuse him... He would not hold back... He couldn't...

"You don't have to be alone anymore in this big, scary house."

He made sure to stress out the last words, the same ones you used when you had confided your wish to the doll. He wanted you to understand… That wicked side of him wanted you to realise that he had always been there, watching you, listening in on you... That you have never truly been alone.

"Aren't you happy?"

He couldn't hide the impatience in his voice. His palm pressed harder onto your spine, imperceptibly rubbing up and down, seeking your touch. He found himself edging closer to you, his mask nearly touching your asscheek, his other hand ready to commit another despicable sin, the worst one yet.

“Let me see you? Please?"

He stopped in his tracks, momentarily stunned by your words.

You had asked so sweetly, your voice such a gentle caress to his ears, how could he have declined your request? After all, he had longed to have those gorgeous eyes of yours fall on him, finally seeing him, since the first day. And what would have been better than having you looking at him as he ravished you? Watching lust twist your features, the pleasure - he was igniting in you - flooding your lovely eyes. A shuddering breath escaped his lips as the vivid image arose in his mind, aggravating the torture.

Brahms loosened his grip, allowing you to turn around and lie on your back. As soon as your eyes met his, you let out another loud gasp. His gut flipped at the way your wide eyes flitted across his mask, chest, thighs, taking him all in.

You saw him. You were looking at him. Ah, what a dream... What a dream come true...

He wondered what was going through your pretty little head. How did it make you feel to know that the kid's voice you've occasionally heard reverberating through the mansion over the past few weeks hadn't come from a possessed doll or an imprisoned spirit... But from him. Your Brahms, in flesh and blood.

“B-Brahms…”

The way you tentatively called his name while looking up at him like a deer in the headlights was pure bliss.

He nodded enthusiastically in response and drew closer to you. His gaze flickered from your face to your hand, which he noticed slowly reaching up in his direction. He jerked back instantly out of reflex, frightened like a beaten dog meeting a loving hand for the first time, but as soon as he realized there was no threat in your intentions, he leaned back in and allowed you to touch his mask. Oh, how he yearned to feel your soft palm caressing his wounded cheek... to feel your gentle touch skin on skin… But that would have to be enough for the moment.

Now that he had your full attention. Now that you knew who he was and that no harm would come from him… with your eyes staring up at him with such awe and wonder…

He couldn't wait any longer.

His hand eagerly slipped between your thighs, fingers greedily seeking your heat. He caught with utmost satisfaction the way your eyes widened again, your lips parting to let out a shocked cry; you looked so adorable… so desirable… so vulnerable…

He kept his ever-attentive gaze fixed on you, desperate to catch your every reaction, as he stroked your wet folds and teased your entrance.

“W-what are you… Ah!~”

A tremor pierced him as he felt your body tremble so sharply when he easily entered you, triggering a loud whine from you as he drove his fingers deep into your walls.

His breathing was extremely shallow, and he could see your chest raise and fall as you began panting as well; the sight only served to add fuel to his burning desire, leaving him eager to make you cry and shiver just like that over and over again.

His movement against you was firm but frantic, fueled by his long-repressed need, which was causing him to shudder and whimper as he fingered you. He had no idea what he was doing, but your moans and squeals were guiding and urging him to keep hitting that spongy spot deep inside you which seemed to make you scream the loudest.

“N-no… W-w-wait…”

Your hands shakily reached down to seize his and halt his actions, but he quickly grasped your wrists and pinned them both on your belly, holding them down with one palm while continuining on driving his fingers back and forth, unrelentingly, into you. He could tell you liked it, the lewd sounds you were making told him as much. He knew his actions were pleasing you. Your cunt was so wet, and your walls welcomed his long fingers with such hunger, swallowing them fully with each push.

How would it feel to sink inside you? To have your tight, spongy walls suck and squeeze his cock dry? Would his cum leak back out? It always did when he used his doll, the one he had turned to look just like you… He constantly had to push his fluids back inside the hole…

“Brahms... S-stop… Ah!”

Your broken whimpers sounded so cute. You were so cute. What were you asking of him? Certainly not to stop. Not that he would or could. The feeling of making you squirm under his touch was intoxicating, a feeling he had just discovered and yet couldn't get enough of. He had already grown addicted. The sight of you laying there completely vulnerable, completely his, was filling him with such a rush of euphoria.

He released your wrists, disregarding the way you immediately but weakly started tugging at his hand again in protest. Instead, he reached down to his trousers, letting out a deep guttural grunt when he felt the dampness of the material, soaked with his seed. Leaked precum? Or did he burst into his pants without even realising? It didn't matter. His cock was hard and throbbing when he grabbed it, ready to slip out of the restraining cloth and finally sink inside you… He couldn’t wait, oh no, he couldn’t wait anymore-

“I said stop!”

His entire body shuddered violently, and his senses suddenly sharpened as if he had just awoken from a trance. Both his hands abruptly came to a halt.

He wasn't sure if he was shaking more from the thrill your imposing tone caused in him or the excruciating hunger that was gnawing at him, demanding to be satiated. Possibly both combined given the intensity of the tension that had taken hold of his body.

Brahms stared at you with bated breath and childish fear, like a misbhehaving boy caught in the act of some deplorable deeds by his strict mother. He didn't dare to make a sound nor move an inch as he waited to be scolded.

A strange glint passed your eyes, one that he could barely catch, let alone decipher. However, your entire demeanour seemed to alter abruptly in response to his reaction.

"What do you think you're doing?"

He gasped. A flood of dread shook his entire being and made his stomach churn upon hearing your stern tone. Did he upset you? Were you angry at him? He couldn't bear it. Oh no… He only wished to please you... Only ever wished to please you...

"What were you doing, mh?"

Brahms vehemently shook his head, his panicked gaze glued on your hard look.

“Brahms.”

Your commanding tone made him shudder again. He cowered, crouching down and dropping his head on your lap. He didn't dare admit what he was about to do, what he had been doing long before you woke up.

"Brahms!"

He felt your hands pull on his arms, but he only pressed his head further against you, burying his face in your womb, his whimpers muffled by your skin. His hands reached to your sides, holding you vehemently but not threateningly. He wanted to show you how good he was. How good he could be for you. He was sorry. Yes. He was terribly sorry. He would never upset you again.

"Please…" He pleaded in his childish voice, nuzzling his forehead into your belly.

"Please, what?"

He tightened his grip on your sides and cried again, "Pleaseee… I need you…"

His meekness only increased as you delayed to answer. His hands cradled your body, fingers clutching desperately at your nightgown and creasing the material. His head anxiously swayed back and forth as he rubbed his mask against you.

"Use your real voice."

Another tremor shook his body and he quickly obeyed your command.

"I need you."

His voice came out low and hoarse, such a stark contrast to his childish tone. It caused a vibration in your tummy. He could feel how your body shivered in reaction.

Raising his head to meet your gaze, he noticed that your eyes had widened significantly. Was it because of his voice? The way he begged? Did you like it? He could beg you again and again in his real voice, if it pleased you so. If that meant you’d let him have you.

"I need you, please…"

His fingers travelled slowly along your sides, gingerly getting closer to your panties again, quivering with impatience and constraint. He kept his imploring look on you as he stroked his fingertips on the damp fabric before slipping them inside to rub against your folds once more.

He saw your eyelids flutter and your chest rise harshly as you took a deep breath.

He whimpered as he felt your fingers weave into his curls and then capture them abruptly in a tight clasp.

"Lay down, Brahms."

He merely lingered for a moment to process what you had requested of him. Then he did it. He lay down on the mattress without question. Eager to please you. Desperate to be in your good graces. He would do anything for you.

His entire body was trembling with anticipation, a deep-seated urge to be touched threatening to overtake him as you climbed on top of him, claiming his former position. His body craved your touch so badly, yet he had to wait until you decided to put him out of his misery.

“You’re such a naughty boy. You know that?”

When he felt your weight on him and your groin sitting directly on his bulge, he felt his breath catch in his throat and his hips buck up instinctively. Only his unbuttoned pants separated his arousal from your heat.

He was losing his mind…

"Nobody ever taught you that's not how good boys are supposed to behave, mh?"

More whimpers flowed from his parted lips as you began to grind against him, painfully slowly but with force. He struggled to keep his eyes open and locked in yours; his quivering hands went up to hold your hips, seeking to control your movements, but you intercepted them and forced them down on the pillow on either side of his face. He let you keep them still.

"Please…"

"I will teach you… Yes, yes... I will teach you. Bad boys never get their way, no matter how much or how long they beg."

Brahms had always obtained whatever he wanted since he was a little boy. If he couldn't have it, he'd take it himself. But he wasn't going to admit it to you. He merely groaned and twitched in response, every inch of his body ignited by your leisurely and frustrating movement against him.

He craved being inside you... To spill his load deep within your core... but he was so worked up… he had been holding back for so long, too long… and the way you moved was so rousing, provoking him just enough to…

His body abruptly convulsed underneath you, a deep sigh of relief escaping from his lips as a dark and large wet stain appeared on the material of his trousers. All of the desire coursing through him reached a fever pitch that consumed every inch of his body.

He had never experienced such an intense and violent orgasm before. He had jerked off numerous times, but cumming never felt so good...

Brahms was still trembling and panting when his eyes opened again to meet yours. You had stopped moving when he started spasming. Even in the dark, he could see the blush on your cheeks, the way your eyes were wide and glazed as they stared down at him, your own breath coming in short.

"F-Fuck-"

His eyes were fixed on you, watching you as you gulped and shivered, clearly shaken by what had just happened. Your gaze kept darting back and forth between his pants and mask. When he felt your hands release his wrists, he pulled yours back, drawing you forward and causing you to fall on top of him with a yelp.

Brahms buried his face into the crook of your neck. Your scent was stronger than before, his nostrils filled with your natural aroma. His fingers trailed over your skin, feeling how clammy it was and relishing the way you shivered at the touch. He moved on along the curve of your neck until he reached the edge of your nightgown and peeled it down without hesitation, this time dragging it low enough to prevent it from rolling back up. The sight of your breasts made his stomach flip, just like it had done the first time. His body started to become stiffer once more.

“Again…” he whispered breathlessly as he lifted your torso so you could sit on his lap just like before, straddling his groin. He could feel himself getting harder all over again. He could not possibly resist you.

"B-Brahms?"

His hands greedily mapped your body, groping every curve and dip they found. His touch soon became frantic and urgent.

"Again, again, again!"

He hastily freed his growing erection from his pants and without giving you time to register what was happening, he seized your waist and pulled you down onto him.

At last, you had become one.

The quiet room filled with both his and your moans of pleasure, which only grew louder as Brahms started guiding your hips up and down, each time with greater force, allowing him to fully sink into you. You were so warm, and the way your tight walls clenched around his cock was more intoxicating than he could have anticipated. It was maddening. The sound of your cunt slapping against his groin was the the best sound he had ever heard. He mentally added it to the list of pleasures he had so quickly become addicted to and sought to experience again and again and again...

He was a mess of sweat and whimpers and tremors, and so were you.

Ah, to finally have you! To finally take you as his! This was everything he had ever dreamed and yearned for. You would never be alone or feel lonely again, and neither would he!

Please you night and day, whenever and wherever! That's what he intended to do.

Oh, yes.

He will be such a good boy for you.

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carmenberzattosgf · 2 months ago

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just a little thot / gift for u my queen

desperate, needy, whiny carmen waking you up in the middle of the night bc he needs to be inside you sososo bad :(( poor thing is so hard, his dick aching as he grinds against your ass and his fingers grip at your sides,, and he wakes you up with strained murmurs and gentle kisses on your jaw before he pushes in 🤭

Oh my god.

This happens after he has a very vivid dream involving you. When his eyes flutter open, he finds himself on his side pressed up against you, slowly grinding his hard-on into your ass. It’s a few more seconds for him to take in his surroundings, and realize it’s the middle of the night.

He tries to still his hips, think about anything except what he just dreamed of, but there’s not a chance he’s going to be able to distract himself to go back to sleep. At least, not until his problem is taken care of first.

So, he lets his hands drift under your tshirt to feel your skin and keep your body close to his. You don’t stir much, already used to his hands being on you while you sleep. It’s when he presses sloppy kisses to your jaw that you wake up. You can barely make up the strangled words he whispers in your ear.

“Baby—baby need you to wake up. M’sorry I j’st need you. W-woke up needing you.” He’s began grinding into your ass in earnest now, desperate for friction. “Please—please, sweetheart.”

You reach behind you to thread a hand through his curls. “M’awake, Carm. You can have me. It’s okay, baby.” You’ve barely finished your sentence before Carmy is tugging down his underwear and pulling yours to the side.

He pushes in all in one stroke. His moans are muffled into the crook of your neck as he bottoms out. “T-thank you—thank you, thank you, thank you,” he murmurs repeatedly. “Love you so fucking much—s-so good to me.”

His hips don’t move as fast as they normally do. Carmy’s set a gentle pace, focusing on deep steady grinds instead of a rough thrusts. His breathing is heavy against your neck, filled with whines.

“I love you, Bear—always take such good care of me.” You turn your head back to meet his lips in a messy kiss, which only encourages Carmy to keep fucking into you.

He takes your thigh into his hand and holds it up for you, letting him get a better angle to hit that spot inside of you. It didn’t take too much stimulation before you cum all over him. The grip on your thigh increases as he picks up the pace of his strokes, now seeking his own high.

He nearly falls asleep immediately after he cums inside of you. Holding you in his arms, and snuggling up to your skin, Carmy’s steady breathing lulls you to sleep soon after.

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iwrite-sinsandtragedies · 5 months ago

Text

Day 1 — Soulmates ₊˚✧ ﾟ

Submission for @goldengroovy's @olnfweek2024

MC: Micha

Long ass ramble under the cut 😂

Okayokayokay SO-

I love soulmate au's. I cannot tell you how many fics I've read or how many prompts I've played with or media I've consumed or how many bullshit ideas I've come up with in my own head for them, I CANNOT.

It's just - hhhhhhhhhhhh- Soulmate au's and Time Travel au's are just the shit that gets me out of bed some days 😩💖my world weary soul drinks that shit like medicine, okay?

That all being said, it's probably a little ambiguous which au I picked to some, so let me explain: There are two au's I'm mashing up here really, both are from fics I've read back in the day. One being a Clack fic and the other a Thilbo one 🤷‍♂️kind of calling myself out here but w/e, they were good fics.

The Thilbo one is easier to explain - the concept is "Heartsong" which is, literally what it says on the tin. You find out who your soulmate is the first time you hear them sing (and no, that does not mean everyone is just a naturally good singer - they can be ass at music but, the point is, when you hear them their song is the perfect song for you and your heart knows that). There's a lot of little nuances to this one - things like you hearing your heartsong when you dream so you always know the moment you find them. Also people who have quiet dreams because their heartsong died, sometimes before ever even meeting them. etc etc. The heartsong also seems to expand, in some respect, to instruments (as Thorin plays his harp one night and Bilbo starts to hum without thinking about it because it sounds wonderful to him and that's how Thorin finds out).

Overall, it's a very soft and sweet concept to me and as someone who has a deep love of music, it's also one of my very favourites.

The Clack one is a little less easy to explain? I think. Maybe because it's nuances are so round about but I'll do my best. The concept for this one is "I Only See Colour When I'm With You" - anyone who knows how Clack fics usually go knows where this is probably headed 😂 and I am sorry to have hurt you but, overall, the idea is: You live in a noir-esqu world where everything is black and white. This only changes when you find your soulmate, of course, who brings the world into full saturation and lets you see colour for - possibly - the first time in your life (I say possibly because I genuinely can't remember if you start out colourblind or if it's an age cap thing).

Unfortunately, for as much as I adore this concept, it's been a long damn time since I read the fic and I don't even know if it still exists somewhere. So I can't actually recall if it was a 'you have to touch them' or 'you have to hear them' thing but the fic takes place with Zack on the cliff right before Midgar where he holds Cloud and looks at the sky - so I'm willing to bet it's a touch thing.

I also really loved this fic because it was the first one I'd read that brought in the concept of multiple soulmates to me - As Cloud later sits with Aerith and sees the colour he couldn't see with Zack, meanwhile Aerith only sees black and white, because she was only able to see colour with Zack (who was never able to see colour with her, because he needed Cloud for that).

Essentially, they all needed each other to see the world in colour. As a polyam person who didn't quite realise I was poly back then, it was a very comforting (and now dearly cherished) fic.

Anyways! Now that you have the background on the two concepts, you can kind of get what I'm going for with this piece.

Tamarack, Micha and Qiu are all soulmates in a fuzzy, desaturated world (I'm sorry, I'm not cruel enough to but them in complete greyscale LOL) and the way you find your soulmate is by hearing them sing and, when they do, your world is suddenly vivid and bright and beautiful. Suddenly, you can see things as they were meant to be seen and it's a permanent change (unlike the Clack fic) but things are always clearest and brightest when your soulmate speaks or sings 💖

I get a real kick out of the idea that Micha's known for fucking months that Tamarack is his soulmate (if not years) because he's always listening to her play but never says jack shit about it because he's emotionally constipated that way 😂Though genuinely, it's probably because he just doesn't think he's her soulmate and he's a bit against finding out he's right honestly.

Joke is on him, he's Qiu's and Tamaracks soulmate! And he couldn't have picked a better moment to grow a pair an take the risk 🥰

#OLNF Week #OLNF Week 2024 #olnf #our life now and forever #mc michael #our life #qiu lin #tamarack baumann #olnf qiu #olnf tamarack #soulmate au #au #iwrite art #iwrite rambles

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thef1diary · 19 days ago

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I hear you want some domestic dirtbag!danny and boy do i have the idea for you! Im thinking morning after a hookup that’s FILLED with loads of degrading of course but you expected him to be gone in the morning so when you see him in the kitchen making breakfast, it’s confusing to say the least. But like you said, it’s still dirtbag!danny so he’ll definitely have an “excuse” as to why he’s still there

The Morning After | Dirtbag!Danny

— helloo nonnie! I absolutely loved this idea! This is the first time he’s actually stayed til the morning (he can’t believe he missed out on morning sex all this time!) it might’ve started off domestic but it’s dirtbag!daniel, ofc that’s not how it stays especially when he finally sees what you look like the morning after hot n filthy sex. Here’s a blurb turned into fic for you cuz I couldn’t stop writing this 🤭

warnings: 18+ content, oral (fem receiving), reader’s a tease in this, usual dirtbag!danny shenanigans

want more dirtbag!danny? send me an ask with your latest thoughts and click here for the rest of my blurbs/fics

For a moment you think you’re still dreaming. The sheets are tangled around your legs, sticking to your skin, damp with the remnants of a night that left you wrecked in the best way possible. You shift slightly, your body aching, and the soreness between your thighs is a vivid, throbbing reminder of everything Daniel did to you.

Your cunt is tender, every movement a whisper of last night’s bruising pace—how he fucked you hard enough to make you forget your own name, each thrust deliberate, rough, like he was determined to ruin you. And he had. Completely.

Your ass stings faintly, the heat from his palm still imprinted on your skin where he slapped you over and over again, each sharp crack followed by the low, gravelly praise that had you arching into him despite the sting.

“Good girl,” he’d murmured, his breath hot against your ear. “Look how perfect you take it. Fuck, you love it, don’t you?”

You had. You still do.

The bruises on your thighs ache in a way that makes you press them together, a futile attempt to dull the sensation. His mouth had been relentless, lips and teeth marking you, sucking hard enough to leave you trembling beneath him.

You shudder at the memory, heat pooling low in your stomach as you trace a hand over the faint outline of his bites, each one a claim he didn’t bother to hide.

A noise pulls you from the haze of your thoughts��a small clatter from beyond the bedroom door. For a moment, you freeze, heart skipping a beat. You expected to wake up alone. Hell, you were certain he’d be gone by now, leaving nothing behind but the ache in your body and the marks on your skin.

But he’s still here.

You sit up slowly, the sheets slipping from your bare body, pooling around your waist. Your eyes scan the floor, searching for something to cover yourself with. Your clothes are nowhere to be found, scattered somewhere in the frenzy of last night. Instead, your gaze lands on his shirt, crumpled in a heap near the bed.

With a quiet sigh, you reach for it, pulling the fabric over your head. It smells like him—faintly musky with a hint of sweat and the lingering scent of his cologne. The hem barely skims the curve of your ass but you don’t bother with anything else.

Padding softly across the room, you open the door and step into the hallway. The noise grows louder—a faint clinking of dishes, the low hum of the fridge. You follow the sounds, heart thudding in your chest, unsure of what to expect.

When you reach the kitchen, you stop in the doorway, your breath catching in your throat.

There he is.

Daniel stands with his back to you, only wearing his sweatpants from last night, the broad expanse of his shoulders bathed in the soft morning light streaming through the window. His skin is marked, faint red lines from where your nails had dug into him last night. His curls are tousled, a wild mess that only makes him look better, more effortlessly attractive.

You watch as he moves around the kitchen with an ease that feels almost too familiar—like he’s done this before, like he belongs here. He’s focused on whatever he’s doing, completely unaware of your presence, and for a moment, you just stand there, taking him in.

The muscles in his back shift as he reaches for something on the counter, and you bite your lip, a fresh wave of heat curling low in your stomach. He’s gorgeous, every inch of him, and the sight of him standing there, so domestic and yet so effortlessly him, makes your pulse quicken.

Finally, you step forward, the floor creaking softly beneath your feet. He hears it, glances over his shoulder, and the corner of his mouth lifts into a lazy, knowing smirk.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he drawls, his voice rough from sleep. His eyes flick down to the shirt you’re wearing—his shirt—and the smirk deepens. “Looks good on you.”

You cross your arms over your chest, the fabric of the shirt shifting with the movement. “I thought you’d be gone by now.”

He shrugs, turning back to the stove where something sizzles in a pan. “Thought about it,” he admits. “But then I got hungry. And, well”—he glances over his shoulder again, that infuriating smirk still in place—“had to do something about it.”

You arch a brow, leaning against the doorframe. “So you’re making breakfast?”

“Relax, darling,” he says with a chuckle, shaking his head. “I’m not moving in. Just figured you might want something decent to eat after last night.” His eyes darken slightly, the smirk fading into something softer, something almost intimate. “You earned it.”

The heat in your cheeks intensifies, and you’re not sure if it’s from the way he’s looking at you or the memory of exactly how you earned it. You shift on your feet, the soreness between your thighs a constant reminder.

“Thanks,” you murmur, your voice softer now, unsure how to navigate this unexpected domestic moment with someone like him—someone who usually leaves before the sun comes up, someone who doesn’t stay.

“Need any help?” You ask after a moment, trying to keep your voice light and casual.

He glances over his shoulder again, that smirk tugging at his lips. “Help?” He scoffs, turning back to the pan. “Nah. Sit your pretty ass down. After last night, I’m sure it’s sore enough without you trying to play chef.”

Your breath catches at his words, the heat rising to your cheeks again. He’s not wrong—you are sore. The ache between your thighs and the lingering sting on your skin are proof enough of that. You nod, biting the inside of your cheek to stop the smile threatening to spread across your face as you thought of something.

“Alright,” you murmur, walking toward the fridge. “But don’t say I didn’t offer.”

You pull open the fridge door, the cool air brushing against your bare legs as you pretend to search for something on the bottom shelf. Slowly, deliberately, you bend down, your movements unhurried, knowing full well that the shirt barely covers you. You feel the hem ride up, exposing the curve of your ass—still marked with the faint red handprints he left there hours ago.

You stay there for a moment, reaching for nothing in particular, giving him a full view. The kitchen falls silent, the soft sizzle from the stove the only sound until you hear him mutter your name under his breath—a low, gravelly sound that sends a shiver down your spine.

You glance back over your shoulder, feigning innocence, your lips curving into a playful smirk. “Oops,” you say softly, the word dripping with mischief. You straighten up slowly, letting the shirt fall back into place, but not before adding, “I’m so sore, Danny.”

His eyes are darker now, locked on you, the easy smirk on his face gone, replaced by something else—something hungry. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and you can see the way his fingers grip the handle of the pan just a little tighter.

He lifts his free hand, curling two fingers in a slow, deliberate motion—a silent summons that makes your breath hitch. You don’t hesitate. You move toward him until you’re close enough to feel the heat radiating from him and the stove.

“You’re a fucking tease,” he mutters, his voice low and rough. He turns back to the pan, but his movements are less composed now, less sure. “Sit your ass down before I make it even sorer.”

A soft chuckle escapes you, pleased with the effect you have on him, and instead of taking a seat at the table, you hop onto the countertop beside him, the cool surface a sharp contrast to your warm skin. Your thigh brushes against his arm as you settle in, your eyes fixed on him with a teasing glint.

“I’m just following orders,” you say sweetly, resting your chin in your hand as if you have no idea what you’re doing to him. “Besides, you said you were making breakfast. I’m curious to see if you can actually cook.”

Daniel glances at you again, amusement flickering behind the hunger in his eyes. His lips curl into a smirk that’s equal parts cocky and dangerous. “Oh, I can cook,” he says smoothly. “But if you keep pulling tricks like that…” His eyes drag over you, slow and deliberate, “…we might never make it to breakfast.”

You shift slightly on the counter, spreading your thighs naturally which causes the shirt to ride up higher, exposing more of your bare skin. His shirt on you barely covers anything now, and when the fabric slides up further, the faint bruises and marks from his mouth are on full display.

His gaze locks onto them, those red and purple imprints, a reminder of the way he claimed you last night. His breath catches, and when his eyes trail higher his gaze lands on your cunt, the muscle in his jaw tightens. His hand, the one holding the spatula, flexes, knuckles going white for a moment before he sets the utensil down with more force than necessary.

A low groan escapes him, deep and guttural, his eyes burning with something primal. “Fuck…” he mutters, voice thick with desire. He swallows hard, dragging a hand through his tousled hair, his focus slipping entirely from the stove to you. “You’re really testing my patience, sweetheart.”

You tilt your head, feigning innocence, the corner of your mouth lifting into a smirk. “Am I?” you ask softly, letting your knees fall open a little more. “I didn’t mean to. I was just getting comfortable.”

Daniel’s eyes darken as he takes one last look at the pan, then makes a decision. He turns off the stove with a flick of his wrist, the sizzle dying down immediately. His gaze shifts around the kitchen, scanning briefly before landing on a bowl of fruit on the counter. His hand reaches for a banana, and the smirk on his face deepens as he steps between your legs, the heat of him pressing into you.

“Here,” he says, handing it to you, his voice low, rough with hunger—but not for food. His body slots perfectly between your thighs, his hands resting on either side of you, trapping you in place. “Eat it.”

You blink, confused for a second, until his smirk twists into something darker, more dangerous. His eyes flick down to the space between your legs and then back up to meet yours, his meaning crystal clear.

“Because my breakfast,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear, his breath hot against your skin, “is right here, spreading her legs like a slut, and I’m fucking starving.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you look at him, heat pooling low in your belly. The way he’s watching you, like he’s already devouring you with his eyes, sends a thrill through you. Still, you peel the banana slowly, the tension thick in the air as you bring it to your lips.

Daniel’s gaze never leaves you. His eyes follow every movement, watching intently as you take a bite, your lips wrapping around the fruit. You don’t mean to make it seductive—it just happens, the way your mouth lingers on it, the way your tongue flicks against the edge. His jaw tightens, and he swallows hard, a low groan rumbling from deep in his chest.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, his hand twitching against the counter like he’s holding himself back by sheer force of will. “You really don’t know what you’re doing, do you?”

You glance at him through your lashes, feigning innocence as you finish the banana. “Just eating,” you say softly, your voice teasing. “Isn’t that what you wanted, sir?”

“Careful,” he warns, taking a step closer, his hands braced on either side of you, trapping you against the counter. The heat of him is palpable, his presence overwhelming. “Keep playing, and I’ll forget about being nice.” His eyes flash with something darker, more dangerous. “Is that what you want?”

You lean back slightly, feigning nonchalance, but your pulse quickens under his intense gaze. “I’m just being good,” you reply, your voice a breathy whisper. “Doing what you asked.”

Daniel chuckles, a dark, throaty sound that sends a shiver down your spine. His hand slides up your thigh, fingers tracing over the faint bruises he left last night, each touch igniting a spark of heat. “Good, huh?” His lips brush against your ear, his breath warm and intoxicating. “I’ll decide if you’re good or not.”

He leans in, his mouth capturing yours in a kiss that’s anything but gentle. It’s possessive, hungry, his teeth grazing your bottom lip before his tongue slips past, claiming you all over again. The kiss leaves you breathless, your hands clutching at his shoulders as he pulls away just enough to look at you.

“Let’s see how much of a good girl you can be f’me,” he murmurs, voice thick with lust, before dropping to his knees in front of you.

Your heart skips a beat as you watch him settle between your legs, his hands sliding up your thighs, spreading them wide. His touch is firm, possessive, fingers brushing over the bruises he left last night. He pauses for a moment, admiring his handiwork, before lowering his head and pressing kisses to some of the marks—soft, almost reverent touch that contrasts sharply with the roughness in his voice.

“Look at these,” he murmurs against your skin, his lips trailing along the inside of your thigh. “Fucking gorgeous. You wear my marks so well, sweetheart. Like you were made for it.”

You shiver under his touch, every nerve ending sparking to life as his mouth inches closer to your pussy. His breath is hot against your skin, and then—finally—his tongue flicks out, a teasing, feather-light touch against your clit.

“Fuck,” you gasp, your hands gripping the edge of the counter as he licks a slow, deliberate line up your cunt. He takes his time, savoring every inch of you, his tongue circling, teasing, until you’re trembling beneath him.

He groans against you, the sound vibrating through your core. “So fucking sweet,” he mutters, his voice muffled by your thighs. “Could live between these legs and never get tired of it.”

His hands tighten on your thighs, holding you open as his mouth works you over, kissing, licking, sucking with a relentless precision that has you writhing, your body arching off the counter. He alternates between soft, teasing flicks of his tongue and deep, hungry sucks that have your legs trembling.

“God, you’re a mess already,” he says, pulling back for a moment to look at you, his lips glistening with your slick. His eyes are dark, filled with something feral, something utterly unrestrained. “You’re dripping all over the counter. Fucking filthy, baby.”

His words make you whimper, the heat in your belly coiling tighter. He chuckles darkly, the sound sending another jolt of arousal through you.

“You like that, don’t you?” he taunts, his fingers brushing against your entrance before sliding inside, curling just right. “Being my dirty little girl. Letting me fuck you with my mouth until you can’t even think straight.”

You can’t answer—your brain is a haze of pleasure, every coherent thought drowned out by the way he’s touching you, the way his tongue flicks over your clit again and again, driving you closer to the edge.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Daniel coaxes, his voice a low, seductive growl. “Let go. I want to feel you come on my tongue. Want to taste every fucking drop.”

Daniel’s fingers curl inside you with ruthless precision, each stroke hitting that perfect spot, his mouth relentless on your clit. The tension in your body coils tighter, each flick of his tongue, each deliberate curl of his fingers driving you closer and closer to the edge until you’re trembling, breathless, teetering on the brink.

“You’re so close, aren’t you?” he murmurs against you, the vibrations of his voice sending a shudder through your body. “Go on, baby. Let me feel it.”

A desperate whimper escapes your lips, and you can’t hold back any longer. Your body arches off the counter, thighs shaking as the orgasm crashes over you, a wave of blinding heat and ecstasy. He groans against you, savoring every moment as your walls clench around his fingers, as your body melts into his touch.

“That’s it,” he groans, voice rough and reverent. He doesn’t stop until you’re trembling, overstimulated and gasping for breath. Only then does he pull back, pressing one last lingering kiss to your clit, making you jolt from the sensitivity.

Daniel stands, his hands firm and possessive as they slide under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly off the counter. Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively, your body still trembling in the aftermath. His eyes are dark, hooded with desire as he looks at you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“How many more times do you think you can cum for me?” he wonders aloud, his voice low and wicked, as if it’s a genuine challenge.

You let out a soft, breathless whine, your head resting against his shoulder. “I’m gonna be so sore,” you murmur, half-pleading, half-expecting him to take mercy on you.

His smirk widens, and he leans in, capturing your lips in a deep, searing kiss that steals the protest from your mouth. His tongue slides against yours, tasting, claiming, leaving you breathless all over again. When he pulls back, his thumb brushes over your cheek, his gaze softening just a fraction.

“I’ll run you a bath after,” he promises, voice still thick with desire. “Maybe I’ll join you too. Take care of you… or make you even sorer.” The wicked glint in his eyes tells you exactly what he means, and it sends another pulse of heat through your already spent body.

Before you can respond, Daniel’s lips find yours again, his kiss full of promise—one that says this is far from over.

taglist: @llando4norris @monsieurbacteria6 @namgification @lilymurphy03 @sargeantdumbass @racingheartsposts @d3kstar @thedecalcomania-blog @casperlikej @khaylin27 @mlioravanfleet @mehrmonga @wobblymug @bokutos-babyowl @evasmlp @mycenterfold @uhhvictoria @kaorisakamotofan @alice-went-away @nikfigueiredo @wonnou @jointhehunt67 @gxuh @67-angelofthelordme-67 @kigieri @lilorose25 @freyathehuntress

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covenha · 1 month ago

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Synopsis: perv!roommate!yeosang can't stop thinking ungodly things about his best friend. Pairings: Perv!bff!yeosang x fem reader Genre: smut, mdni Warnings: smut (duh), yeosang in grey sweatpants bc that should be a warning WC: 746 a/n: this is filth that has been backlogged into my brain the minute that yeosang posted *that* black and white photo on ig so you know what's up. this is purely fiction so the this does not portray his character irl in any way shape or form. this is my first time writing smut so if it's poorly written or sounds like it came from those weird alpha tiktok shorts i am so sorry. its yet another self-indulgent fic so lmk how it is. as always, feedback and reblogs are always appreciated and my inbox is open for any requests!

just imagine pervy bff!Yeosang, you guys have been roommates for a few months now as the both of you just started college together and thought that living in an apartment together was better than living in some dingy university dorm room with strangers. he thought the idea was fine then, but he didn’t realize just how hard it was living with someone he had a massive crush on.

you guys have always been comfortable with each other. you guys wore your more… questionable loungewear around each other. but you not wearing bras around him was a new thing. when you asked if it was cool to not wear bras around the apartment since they were uncomfortable to wear all day, yeosang agreed immediately stating that he didn’t want you to be uncomfortable in your living space. but he couldn’t help but get turned on.

the bustling city’s humid weather was a hellscape compared to the cooler temperatures you both were accustomed to back in your seaside town. this meant that when the sun was at its highest, the apartment you guys shared was like a microwave. and this also meant that you would wear lighter clothing. those thinner tank tops that showcased your chest so well, those crop tops that showed off your midriff, and those fucking pajama shorts that did nothing to cover your legs. sometimes he manages to get a glimpse of your cotton panties peeking through. All of these things adding up would damn near drive yeosang to insanity.

the sight of you wearing clothes that left nearly nothing to the imagination sent blood rushing straight to his dick. he’s lost count of how many times he’s had to rub one out quickly in his room to the thought of you. it was starting to get out of hand if he was being honest, he might start shooting blanks and get an electrolyte imbalance.

and the dreams were the worst part. he really thought that phase was over. the awkward wet dreams he’d have at night with some unknown female living out his sexual fantasies. but he was wrong. and they’ve come back stronger and more vivid than ever. and what’s worse is, you are always the star of these dreams.

on some nights he’d have you face down, ass up, your hands held behind your back as he fucked you to oblivion on your bed with your plushies facing the wall. on other nights you’re riding his dick whining about how deep he is inside you that you can feel him in your stomach. and other times he has you splayed on the kitchen counter as he eats you out for so long you start shaking violently and squirting on his pretty face.

on this particular night he has you on his bed, your neck marred with red splotches of his love bites. you whine about it being too much, and i mean who could blame you? he had been going at it for 3 rounds already and he didn’t show any signs of stopping. with your thighs on his shoulders, he was practically folding you in half and the aches of his passionate love making were starting to seep into your poor body. but yeosang persisted, mumbling something about how he was almost there. and it truly felt like he was.

your spongy spot had been abused beyond belief and your whines of his name were the only things coming out of your mouth at this point.

“Sangi….”

“Yeosang!”

and he comes so hard in one of the most intense orgasms he’s ever had in his life.

“Dude, get up!”

he’s groggy as he hears your voice. he’s laying on his front, face plopped down on his pillow. he groans as he wakes up from your shaking.

“We’re gonna be late for the bus, Sang. You have like 20 minutes to get ready.” you shake him some more to snap him out of his sleepy state.

he just hums in a sound of agreement before he breathes a sigh of relief as you walk out of his room and close the door. he can feel the spurts of come in his sweatpants sticking uncomfortably around his now soft dick. his grey sweatpants were stained a dark grey in the groin area. he came so much that he felt it dripping down his leg when he stood up. man, how was he supposed to survive 4 more years of this torture?

#ateez #ateez yeosang #ateez smut #ateez au #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez blurbs #ateez hours #ateez hard hours #ateez drabbles #ateez scenarios #kang yeosang #yeosang smut #yeosang au #yeosang imagines #yeosang x reader #yeosang blurbs #yeosang hard hours

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margotw10bis · 1 year ago

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Crashing On Crush.JJK 1 [m]

crush!Jungkook x reader

Genre: smut; series; romance; angst

Words: 2.3k

Synopsis: What happens when your first encounter with your crush is Jungkook seeing your ass?

Warnings: sexual tension; alcohol consumption

1 → next

Your first encounter with Jungkook was... embarrassing. The truth is that timing isn't really your friend and you had another proof of that.

Your hand digging through your purse to find your goddamn phone that was ringing - you were waiting for a very important phone call after a job interview -, Jungkook, suddenly opening the front door of your best friend's apartment, was welcomed with a very vivid image: your ass and your pussy barely covered by your baby blue thong, up in the air while you were bend over since your bag was on the floor. Maybe a little context is needed here to explain how you could possibly end up in this situation.

Suzi, your best friend you met few years ago on your first day of college, has been begging you to go clubbing. She knows you don't really like it: you don't like loud music, annoying guys trying to hit on every women and dancing in the middle of a hot and sweaty crowd. At the end, you're always bored in the club. But Suzi loves it. She even met her boyfriend in one.

Taehyung and her have been dating for almost ten months now and they just recently moved in together. You can really see how happy Suzi is when she talks about him. She is madly in love with him. And you have seen Taehyung enough to say the same thing about him, even if you're not as close to him as you are to Suzi.

Anyway, let's go back to the most embarrassing moment of your existence.

After hours of Suzi bawling in your ears to go to the club, you've surrendered. She invited you to spend the afternoon at her place after school so you could talk and then get ready together. You were at the very beginning of it: you only had time to put on make-up and your matching baby blue lace bra and thong after your shower when you heard your phone. You knew it was the call you were waiting for. A few days earlier, you had a job interview for an art gallery of Seoul. So, when the first ringtones started, you just ran to your handbag you had left in the entrance.

And there you are. Jungkook facing your pretty ass as he has just passed the door. You gasp when you hear the door and turn around as fast as you can. However, not fast enough to have spare him the show. This is officially the most embarrassing, awkward moment of your life. Especially when you have a huge crush on Jungkook. You haven't met the guy yet but you know he's Taehyung's best friend. And since Suzi and him start dating, you have been following Tae on Instagram. When you saw a pic of the two guys together, you couldn't help yourself and you clicked on Jungkook's profile. By now, you know all his posts by heart and you get so excited when he posts a new photo of him. He is so handsome, so hot. His long black hair, his right arm covered in ink, his lip piercing... Everything in him screams 'I know I made your panties wet'.

But now, while you were looking forward to your first encounter with him tonight - other than the hundred scenarios you've made up in your mind at night dreaming about him -, you've just ruined the tiny, little chances you could have had with him.

You blush so hard that you're sure your whole face is red. Your open mouth doesn't even know what to say and he looks just as surprised as you. You feel so... humiliated that you just grab you bag and escape to Suzi's bedroom. Your heart beats so fast and loud from the embarrassment. How can you face him now?

You vainly try to calm down before answering to the phone. Even the great news of your hiring doesn't warm up your heart. All you can think about is that you met your crush and the first thing he saw was your ass.

What you don't know is that, beside the surprise, Jungkook is kind of satisfied with the view that welcomed him. How can he not be happy to see such a beautiful butt? The baby blue of your thong is such a flattering color for your skin. You looked so sexy. Not so much because of your foxy underwear but because of your body. A perfect body he'd dare to say. At the same time, when he saw the embarrassment on your face, Jungkook also thought that you were cute. He knows who you are: his best friend couldn't shut up about his girlfriend and showed him so many photos of her. In some of them, you were there. Your beautiful smile caught his eyes. And Tae also told him that you were in his apartment before inviting Jungkook to go on without him because he had some stuff to grab in his car. The mere annoyance of being left out by this best buddy instantly vanished when he opened the door. Even now, without the sight of your body, his cock is hard, a pleasant memory of your first encounter.

Suzi looks at you with a questioning look.

"I just had the worse moment of my life!" You tell her

"Stop dramatizing"

"Jungkook is here. And he saw my ass!" You are almost crying but your best friend bursts into laughing. "Suzi, this is not funny! How can I face him now?"

"Well, I think he should thank you, you gave him one kind of a show!" She teases

You gently slap her arm to make her stop mocking you.

"Relax! I'm sure this is not the first time he's seeing a butt. And yours is pretty hot. I'm sure he won't be mad at you. Maybe, it'll even make him interested in you"

What a lucky girl you are! Your crush will only care about you because you showed him your bum...

"Look, Y/N" Suzi says more seriously "You can't hide here. So get ready, and let's go. If you feel too embarrassed, get drunk, you won't think about it"

You wince. Suzi doesn't have the best idea but she's right about one thing: you can't stay here forever. So you pull yourself together and try to gather all the courage you have.

———

After thirty minutes in the club, the loud and unpleasant music slaughtering your ears, you've decided to keep on with your strategy: avoiding Jungkook at all costs. You don't look at him, you stay away from him and you try hard to forget what happened. The only problem is that he makes it so damn hard. He is so attractive in his black shirt and black slacks. The outfit compliments so well his fit body. You get even more annoyed that you force yourself to not enjoy it while a beautiful blond girl is flirting with him at the other side of your group's booth. You can't help thinking "it was supposed to be me!". You've waited so long to finally meet Jungkook and this... incident ruined everything. It's so unfair. You've been crushing on him for months and it's this blond girl who's known him for five minutes who is laughing seductively by his side.

And your best friend is nowhere to be seen. She is probably dancing with Taehyung.

You are so, so mad right now. With you for letting your fucking phone in the fucking entrance when you fucking knew you were waiting for a phone call. With Jungkook who couldn't arrive one minute later. With the whole universe for the legendary bad luck of yours.

You grab your glass while you sigh, and drink up one shot the rest of your cosmo. And it's not a good one. Yep, you really don't like clubs. You really don't like to dance either. More than that: you hate it. But you hate even more seeing this girl flirting with Jungkook so you get up and walk to the dance floor. Thanks to the two glasses of the vodka based cocktail you've drank before, you feel less reticent to move - shyly - your body. Your tight and short navy dress goes up a little when you lift your arms to 'dance'. You are not really seductive at the moment since your moves are not smooth - which your uncomfortable high heels don't help either. But you allow your head to empty. You don't think about anything, especially not about Jungkook's eyes on your ass.

Well...

Maybe you do think a little about that and the alcohol shifts the memory into something arousing. You are wearing the sexier underwear you own. And let's get honest: you chose it because of Jungkook. You were kind of wishing to finish the night with him. You were wishing him to see your ass in this thong. And he did. The simple thought of his gaze on you makes your pussy clench. You've seen his face a hundred time on Instagram and you are still surprised by his handsomeness. He is way hotter in real life. You can't argue his 'I know I make your panties wet' look because you are wet because of him. For him. Your brain full of this horniness, you forget everything, you forget the world around you.

You even forget that Jungkook, the man who is responsible for your condition, is in the same club. And you don't know that he is looking at you. Since you left to join the crowd of dancing people, Jungkook has been observing you. Your slow moves and above all your dress getting higher on your thighs turn him on. Especially when he knows what is underneath your tight dress. He more or less managed to control his erection until now. He stays seated to hide his stretched crotch. But he can't resist anymore. He doesn't even listen to the blond girl next to him. She is hot, for sure, but he doesn't care. She is not as hot as you. He hesitates to join you because he is afraid to make you uncomfortable: you haven't even looked at him since you all arrived here.

But when he sees a random dude looking at you with greed and approaching you, he jumps out of his seat and virtually runs to you.

You feel a strong body behind you. At first, you think it's just a guy trying to hit on you by rubbing himself on you. But then you realize that the person in your back doesn't move. Intrigued, you turn around and gasp by surprise when you see Jungkook. You want to say something but your brain can't make something out. Jungkook notices it and saves you from - another - embarrassing moment:

"Can I have a dance?"

Your heart skips a beat. Thanks to the colored spot, he can't see you blushing, hard. You just manage to nod and he puts his big and warm hands on your waist. It feels so soft, so right that you rant about the barrier of the dress between your bare skins. The feeling is so good, you almost moan. Your hands rest chastely on his large shoulder, too shy to touch him more than that even if you die to do so. His black shirt doesn't prevent you from catching how buff he is.

"This outfit suits you so well" he tells you with a playful smile. You don't get that Jungkook is actually not talking about your dress but about your underwear. Nevertheless, the compliment makes you wet and you press your tights together to avoid any leak. It doesn't go unnoticed by Jungkook who smirks. He loves to see the effects he has on women but he loves it even more on you.

You feel fogged. You don't know if it's because of the alcohol, because of the heat due to the dance and the crowd around you, or because of Jungkook. Your moves are getting messier and sloppier, you barely stand on your legs. Jungkook notices it and he frowns, immediately worried about you.

"Y/N, are you okay?" He asks

"I need some air" you manage to say so low you're not sure if he has heard you or if he has guessed the words on your lips

Jungkook grabs you closer to him to support you and leads you to the door. You wish you could enjoy more the sensation of his body pressed against yours.

The cold air slapping your face, your arms and your exposed thighs makes you jolt. It's not much that the breeze is freezing because it's not - Seoul's June is actually quite hot -, but it's the difference between the suffocating heat of the club and the pure air of the outside. You can't tell if you're feeling better or worse.

"Are you okay?" Jungkook asks once again. He gently cups your face with his large and warm hands. It's so heartening you want to close your eyes and press your cheeks deeper into them. He looks at you straight in the eyes, trying to scan your face. His big doe eyes are so pretty, even with furrowed brows.

"I don't feel too well. I think I'm going to head home. You can go back inside"

"I'm coming with you"

You can't help but feeling two contradictory emotions: your heart warming by Jungkook's kindness and guilt of ruining his night.

"No, you don't have to, I can call a cab"

But he doesn't listen to you, you can see it by the determination in his dark eyes.

"I'm coming with you" His words validating your assumptions.

"My bag is inside"

"Let's go grab it and then I'll take you home"

Well, it was certainly not the way you thought spending the night with your crush...

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#bts jungkook #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts #fanfic #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook x reader #jjk x reader #jjk

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honey-on-your-tongue · 2 years ago

Note

Can I have some dilf Jake & younger reader (ofc over 18 tho!!!! , maybe like 10 years difference idk )

maybe reader being jakes best friends daughter and them hooking up 😩🔫

also Jake being lowkey mean abt it 😏…

like yk “my slut” or “what would your dad say if he saw you like that - mouth stuffed with my cock” 🕴🏻

NO BECAUSE THE WAY I LOVE THIS IDEA OMGGGG

my vibrator's gonna run outta battery from all these spicy ass asks 🤭🤭😩😩😩😩

You had always had a crush on Jake Sully. He was old enough to be your dad—seeing how he was almost your dad's age and your dad's best friend. You just never thought it would turn into what it did.

You found yourself more often than not envisioning him fucking you. His naked body, all on display, his thick hands caressing your thighs, his being controlling yours.

Every day, every night—always, you were daydreaming of him. Daydreaming of what he would say, how he would feel inside you, how we would touch you...

You imagined being used by him, and the feeling was too much.

You couldn't even look at him without getting all flustered, your ears folding against your head, tail swishing anxiously, cunt growing moist.

And it was almost like he knew. He'd smirk at you, wink at you, give you little pats on the thigh, caress your lower back, smile at you. He'd call you girl, and sweet, and once or twice, baby. But, you assumed those were all signs of endearment. What else could they be?

You were torn between hell and heaven when your parents announced having to take a trip to one of the neighboring clans, something or another about old friends, acquaintances—whatever. You didn't care about that. You only cared about who they were leaving you with.

Jake.

“But, Father,” you'd complained, “I'm twenty! I can stay on my own.” It was a futile attempt at a) trying to hide the excitement coursing through your veins; and b) at hoping you wouldn't have to remain under Jake's care, in his home, for an entire week.

A whole week, just the two of you.

“It's not about whether or not you're old enough,” your father replied. “You're responsible enough, you know your mother and I trust you, but in case anything happens, it would be good to know Jake can be there to help.”

No matter what arguments you presented, your parents brushed them away. And that's how you found yourself, days later, living under Jake's roof.

It was awkward the first two days. You'd sort of try to avoid him, you would refuse to look into his eyes, and you'd be terrified of daydreaming. Every time you thought of sex with Jake, he would ask, “What's on your mind, sweet?” and he'd have this look in his eyes...this thick, heavy look that made you shudder.

Eventually, you settled down a little, growing more comfortable around him.

Really comfortable, actually.

On a particular morning, just as dawn washes over the land, you wake up, sweating and panting, from a dream—no, another dream where Jake fucked you, his mouth on yours, his hands all over your body, his cock buried deep, deep in your body.

Judging by the time, you assume Jake's already out hunting. Still dazed with sleep and lust filling your veins, you sneak a hand between your thighs, softly caressing your already-wet pussy.

You sigh softly as relief fills you.

Jake's gotta be gone already, you think to yourself, fingers circling your pulsing clit. There's no way he's still here. He always leads the morning hunts.

You remove your loincloth, bending your legs and spreading them, one hand focused on your clit as the other one pushes a finger into your aching entrance.

You mewl softly, hips rolling against your hands, and you close your eyes.

The dream had been so vivid, so fucking real...You can still feel Jake, as if everything had truly happened. You can feel his cock inside you, his mouth on yours, that stupid smirk plastered across his lips.

“Fuck,” you hiss out quietly, curling the finger inside you upwards, touching your g-spot while your other hand pinches your clit. “Oh, fuck.”

As your body starts bucking with the pleasure, you imagine it's Jake's hand, his fingers on your pussy, his voice calling you baby and girl and sweet.

You're flustered, cheeks bright with your blush, body quaking. Fuck, what you'd give for Jake to touch you, kiss you, fuck you. Fuck.

The vivid image of Jake's eyes, amber and predatory, always sharp and cunning, sends a sudden jolt of pleasure through you.

“Ah!” you cry, a little louder than you would've liked to, but the sound is already out, and followed by a whimper of, “Jake.”

Unbeknownst to you, Jake sleeps not far from you, only a bedroom away, and when he hears you gasp, he sits up, alarmed.

He'd asked Tsu'tey to take over his shift for him, deciding he'd stay here in case you needed anything. The sound of your voice sends fear through him at first.

Something's wrong, he thinks, rising off his bed, quickly walking towards your bedroom.

But as he approaches, hand out, ready to push the flap of your tent open, he hears you again.

“Fuck.”

And Jake knows that sound. He knows it's not terror, it's not pain, it's not a call for aid. It's pleasure.

As he quietly steps closer to your bedroom, a whiff of your scent reaches his nose, intoxicating and thick. Your arousal is strong, it makes his cock twitch, his pupils dilate.

Jake shakes his head, pushing his cock down in an attempt to brush off the arousal.

What's wrong with me? Listening to the poor thing touch herself in there...as if I had any right.

Still, he doesn't walk away. He's about to, though, when another of your gasps reaches his ears.

“Fuck! Jake.”

At this, he freezes, ears perking, entire body going rigid. His cock springs to attention, lust beginning to sear through his veins.

Last he'd checked, you didn't know any other Jake but him...could it be that you were touching yourself to him?

“Yes, fuck,” you whine lowly, the sound of your soaked pussy growing louder, squelching as you fuck yourself.

And goddamn, Jake can't help himself.

He carefully pushes the flap of your tent open, peeking in, only to find you, legs spread wide, pussy on display, your hands touching yourself. He licks over his lips, his cock aching, as your scent grows stronger. He rubs his hand over the erection poking through his loincloth, yearning to fuck you.

He watches you for a moment, studies the way you touch yourself, the way your back arches, the way you throw your head back. Your pretty eyes are shut tight, your limbs quivering, and you poor fucking thing, he can't not help you when you're clearly in so much distress.

“You know, sweet, if you woulda told me you wanted me, I would've just helped you already,” he says, stepping into your bedroom, allowing the flap of the tent to close behind him.

You jerk, opening your eyes, quickly seeing him standing before you and removing your hands from your cunt, sitting up.

“Jake,” you stutter, voice breathless, cheeks growing darker with your blush. “I-I thought you'd—”

“Left for morning hunt?” he finishes for you, smirking. “Tsu'tey's leading today, baby.” His eyes scan over your pussy, gaze turning dark. “And thank fuck he did, huh?”

Deeply embarrassed, you croak out, “'m sorry, I...I, uh...I was just...” You trail off, at a loss for words. What could you possibly say to mend this?

“Touching yourself to me?” he questions, approaching your cot, crawling onto it.

You divert your gaze from him and press your thighs together, hiding your pussy from him.

“Oh, don't try to be all innocent and sweet now, girl,” he says, scoffing. “Spread your legs. Let me see how bad you need it.”

You refuse to meet his eyes, just as you refuse to open your thighs. So, Jake uses his huge, rough hands to force your thighs apart. You close your eyes, ashamed, goosebumps prickling over your skin.

His eyes drink in the sight of your soaked pussy, puffy from your ministrations, your slick dripping onto the thin mattress below.

Jake clicks his tongue. “You poor thing,” he says. “You were close, huh? And I interrupted you?”

You don't reply, only offer a tiny nod before murmuring, “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” he echoes, as if confirming the notion, licking his lower lip. “Will you let me make up for that, sweet?”

At this, your eyes snap open, meeting his famished gaze. “How-how do you mean?”

Jake smirks. “I'd prefer to show you. Will you let me?”

You consider it for a second. The opportunity of a lifetime...you're not gonna just let it slip past you...right?

“But you—What about my father? My mother?” you ask, voice quivering, and Jake can hear you don't give a fuck about that. You're just trying to be the good girl you always are, always trying to follow the rules and meet the expectations.

“Forget about them,” he replies. “They're not here to stop us, hm?”

You stare into his eyes for one, two, three seconds before nodding. “Okay,” you say quietly. “Show me.”

Jake smirks, his cock fidgets under his loincloth, and he removes the item of clothing. Your eyes fall to his cock, pupils growing wide at the sight.

Overcome with lust, you rise to your knees, asking, “Can-can I touch it?”

Jake groans at the request, throwing his head back. “Fuck,” he gasps. “'f course you can, sweet. You see how hard it is? It's for you, baby.”

You shyly reach for him, hand a little unsure as it wraps around his cock. The moment you touch him, Jake grunts softly, and you jerk him slowly, gently, glancing up at his face as he stares down at you.

Your big doe eyes find his predatory gaze. His lips are parted, little breaths leaving his mouth as you inch yourself closer. You place a kiss on the tip and Jake hisses. He wants to push you on your back and just fuck you, but he doesn't want to scare you off.

You lick his underside experimentally, keeping your eyes on his cock, and he watches, enthralled, as you play with him. The look of curiosity and amazement across your face makes him harder, precum dripping from his thick head.

You glance back up at him and timidly question, “You'll put it inside?”

Jake smiles at you, a cocky, seductive smile. “Inside that pretty pussy, if you'll let me,” he replies.

You nod slowly, understanding, before lying yourself on your back and spreading your legs. “I want you to.”

And Jake swears he's dead, he swears he's done for, swears his entire being is about to go haywire.

He remains kneeling on the bed, grabbing your hips in his large hands and pulling them up so your ass rests on his thighs. Your eyes are wide, excited, heart beating out of your chest.

“Watch,” he orders as he positions his cock against your entrance and then pushes into you, slowly, carefully.

Your eyes flutter a little as he enters you, but you don't gaze away from where your bodies meet. When the thick head meets your cervix, you gasp softly, body jerking, and Jake groans.

This is so much better than dreaming, you decide, clenching around him, making him grunt.

“So fuckin' tight,” he gasps, starting out with slow thrusts to see how you'll take it, and then increasing his speed, his eyes locking onto your breasts as they bounce with his pounds.

“Fuck!” you gasp, hands digging into the mattress below, legs shaking. You can't believe how deep inside you he is, how he stretches you out. It's so much better than your hands. So, so much better.

“Look at you,” Jake says, moving his gaze to where your pussy swallows his cock whole. “Takin' me so well, sweet. Is it good?”

“'s so good!” you reply, moaning, eyes rolling into the back of your head. You didn't think it could be this fucking amazing. “So good.”

Jake chuckles softly, watching you, and he figures he might as well force a confession from your lips while he's at it.

“Was this the first time you touched yourself to me?” he questions, one of his hands moving to your clit and drawing circles on it.

“N-no,” you reply, gasping and shaking.

“No?” Jake repeats, amused. “How many times have you done it?”

“Every-every—” You gasp, back arching, as he pinches your clit. “Ev'ry night.”

“Every night, huh?” he says, smirking. “And why didn't you ever tell me?”

“'cause you-you're dad's best friend,” you reply, whining as he angles his hips upwards, allowing his cock to press against your g-spot with every thrust.

“Ah, I see,” he chuckles. “You were afraid of your dad finding out, hm? Afraid he'd see how much of a slut you are for me?”

That makes you clench around Jake, and he groans, biting his lower lip. “'m a slut,” you echo, nodding. “A slut.”

“No,” Jake says, thrusting into your harder, deeper. “You're my slut.”

At this, you cry out, pussy dripping. “Your slut,” you agree, nodding. “'m your slut, Jake.”

“Yeah, you fuckin' are, aren't ya?” He smirks, his eyes watching your stuffed cunt. “Jesus, kid, what would your dad say if he saw you like this, hm? With your cunt full of my cock?”

“Ah!” you moan, the mere reminder of how wrong, how off limits Jake's supposed to be making you more aroused. The idea of breaking the rules for Jake makes your pussy throb, your legs quake.

“I'm not gonna lie to you, darlin',” he says, groaning. “I've jacked off to you every now and then, too. You and those pretty eyes, and those perfect tits, and that sweet ass. Goddamn. It's fucking impossible for me not to be hard around you.”

You mewl, eyes rolling into the back of your head, as you try to meet Jake's thrusts with the desperate bucking of your hips.

“Fuck, this is fuckin' amazing,” he grunts. “You have any idea how much I've wanted for you to suck my cock? How many times I've wanted to eat your pussy? How many times I've wanted to fuck you for hours until you're crying and begging me to stop?”

You whimper, entire body clad in a thin layer of sweat, your cunt fluttering around Jake's cock.

“One of these days, girl, imma make you squirt, yeah? You want me t'teach you that neat trick?”

You nod. “Please! Teach me whatever you want! Yes!”

Jake can feel your body tensing, your pussy growing tighter around him. “You gonna come for me, baby? Gonna coat my cock with your cum?”

“Mhmm!” you reply, whining, mind too lost in pleasure to formulate words.

Jake increases his speed, his hips ramming into yours, fingers pinching your clit, making you jerk and squeal in delight.

“Come for me, girl,” he encourages, his voice thick and rough with his approaching orgasm. “Come all over my cock so I can fill your pussy with my load, yeah?”

“Mhmm!” you repeat, nodding desperately, body thrashing wildly as Jake pounds you.

The pleasure becomes a harsh wave that crashes against the walls of your womb, threatening to fill you to the brim and then some more. You mewl, back arching, your eyes shut tight and your mouth open. You're gasping, shaking, cunt clenching around Jake with so much force, he drags against your insides almost painfully.

And then your orgasm claws its way out of you, breaking free, making your body shudder as you cry, “Jake! Jake!”

“I know, girl,” Jake replies, his own orgasm so near. “I know.”

As you begin recovering from your high, your pussy softens around Jake and he pounds into you, making you squeal and gasp, before he finally comes, spilling into you. His cum is hot and thick, sticky as it fills your cunt, dribbling out from how full you are.

Jake hasn't pulled out of you yet when he says, “When your parents come back, don't get nervous 'bout anything, kid. If they ask what we did, you just say you had a little bonding session with your dad's best friend.”

-----

Blog masterlist

@yagirlheree @kamcrazy123

#jake sully smut #jake sully x reader #avatar smut #avatar jake sully #dilf jake sully #navi smut #inbox requests #inbox asks #inbox <3 #spam my inbox

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aratribow · 9 months ago

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What would happen if yanqing died.

I need more angst about Yanqing and jing yuan pls

AHHHHH I ACTUALLY HAVE SO MANY YQ MCD WIPS? That my lazy ass never completed..

But I present you ONE polished thingy. (Don't mind me adding in a ship as well ^^)

An au where Kafka was a bit too late with the spirit whisper, where Jing Yuan was a bit too late to save Yanqing from the shard sword aimed for his chest.

Ps: Yanqing is a bio renjing child here, but Ren didn't know about his existence because he left to get milk and never came back. ^^

Warning: Yanqing MCD

The sun sets, the bird ceases its song, and the lion mourns: (title suggested by @itsredpaint )

He distantly watched as the window curtains flew with the breeze, a chill so familiar. Lying motionless in the assigned bed at the alchemy commission, Jing Yuan felt numb; if the scratchy material of the sheets felt mildly prickly – then he couldn't tell. His barely taken breaths, the only sign of his survival.

There's nothing left.

The momentary fragile trust that took everything, for just a fraction, was broken on a whim.

Another loved one lost to the winds, too young and tender for the graves, too young and tender to wonder if even the ashes will remain.

Jing Yuan was supposed to die there, die at the hands of the Lord Ravager, he had everything prepared beforehand, so why. He was not supposed to be stranded on the mortal world with nothing left of his own, he had already lost plenty, what more was there to lose anymore.

For the moment, he couldn't even recognize if the dull throbbing pain from his chest was entirely the work of Cloud Piercer or not. The lingering remains of Destruction still pulsing through his chi didn't help either.

In the quiet solitude of the night, Jing Yuan's harsh breaths kept him up, the ragged pathetic sound so bitterly familiar.

If he was just a little bit faster…just a little bit faster to save the only sun left in his life.

(The other sun had already been lost to the stars, with nothing left of her other than the telltale bravery of her ill fated luck sewed into the few remaining strands of her lilac hair.)

With a bated breath, he realised that he would never see his retainer again. He would never get to see his dust blonde hair, which, despite being deftly tied up in a high ponytail, always ended up covered in dirt from the spars. The way it gleamed with a gentle sheen of gold whenever Jing Yuan combed through the knotted strands of his freshly dried hair after a long day of work, the action soothing his nerves into a pleasant buzz of tranquillity with Yanqing nodding off on his shoulder. He would never get to see the vivid shade of molten gold in his eyes either, which would crinkle at the edges with a beaming smile at the mention of a favoured sword.

People around General Jing Yuan always remarked as to how his retainer's eyes completely resembled his own, he wondered why, for he always thought that if there was someone who could rival the Sun, it would be Yanqing. not anymore, though

Confined in the cage of his short-sighted immortality, the Divine Foresight mourned. Could he have saved his disciple, his lieutenant, his retainer, his son if only he hadn't undermined the play orchestrated by fate itself? If only he hadn't trusted his life with the phantom of a man once loved and cherished.

Seeing nothing but the blurry lines of the ceiling, he dared not to blink as he let the tears cascade down by themselves, framing his face in a warmth he could only ever dream of now.

Despite being consumed by the guilt of failing yet another, he did not fail to discern the presence that breached the privacy of the room. If not for the silent footfalls, then for the tenseness permeating from the body.

He blinked once, twice.

"He was your son, too." Jing Yuan said, voice barely audible, barely held together against the lump in his throat, threatening to choke him. If not for the dead of the night, void of any activity around, the words would have been lost, blown away by the chilled breeze coming in through the windows.

With eyes still focused on the ceiling, he noticed the body wince in his periphery.

Jing Yuan never thought that it would come to this, but now? Now he wanted this person to mourn alongside him, to share the pain that tore his barely beating heart out and reduced it to shreds. But perhaps it was even more foolish of him to think that Ren would care.

If he had, he wouldn't had left, not when Jing Yuan needed him the most, not when Jing Yuan missed him so bad it hurt, a tender wound damaged again and again with no respite, with no chance to heal, to the point where Jing Yuan felt the kindling fire die within him…and he let it.

The only time he dared to show face was to kill their son, to take away the only light left in Jng Yuan's dying world.

Because what would it matter to Ren when it was Jing Yuan who had to raise Yanqing all by himself. It would be Jing Yuan, who would ever know about Yanqing's child-like antics despite the act he proudly put up for his role as a lieutenant.

It would be Jing Yuan who would remember his pleading eyes at barely the end of the month, and despite the visible disapproval he would still fulfil the wishes, just to see a triumphant smile grace his son's face for winning a war that didn't exist in the first place.

It would be Jing Yuan who would cherish his joy at the agreement of eating outside at a favourite restaurant, relishing in the simplicity of it. It would be Jing Yuan who would know of his boundless determination, his passion, his courage to overcome obstacles at such an early age, his dream of becoming the sword champion...that would remain a dream in itself.

Perhaps…if he had kept him away from the ruthless reality, and if he had just provided the comfort of a father and not the sternness of a mentor, a General, then…perhaps-

Despite being surged by the bitter feelings, he could hardly feel it in himself to move, it seemed to further drown him within the sheets instead. Perhaps it was for the best because he couldn't tell what he wanted to do with his limbs or his body anymore. His grip on reality, failing him.

Before he could choke even further on his misery, he felt a rough bandaged hand coming to rest on his forehead – just then, he finally found his body moving as he violently recoiled against the hand. If it was the tender hand of a lover before, now, it was just the hand of a murderer that dripped with the blood of his child.

Something must have been written on his face besides the silent stream of tears, for he saw the body retreat back quicker than it came to be. He wondered if he would retreat back through the door, never to show face again, just like last time.

But Jing Yuan could care less. If Ren wished to stay for some sick godforsaken reason, just to haunt him in his last moments, then he probably should. Jing Yuan didn't have it in himself to stop him, he'd rather have that same blade plunge through his heart and seal the final deal for him.

He knew the mara wouldn't be long after this, he had lived enough already, and his son was the last straw.

"Baba.... it hurts.." Yanqing said as he had coughed out a string of viscous red that shouldn't be there, not at this age, not now.

Jing Yuan remembered the feeling of pure rage dissipating only to be replaced by unadulterated anguish instead as he collapsed to his knees beside his child. There was a gaping wound that shouldn't have been there-

No, it shouldn't have been there, and yet it was.

Yanqing had laid there, in his arms, seeping precious blood into the ruined tiles of the Dragonvista Hall. Jing Yuan recalled feeling helpless as he watched the blood gurgle from Yanqing's mouth, making it hard for him to breathe. The strength in his tender face long gone as he watched the colour receding rapidly, leaving nothing but pure fear in its wake. His son was scared, scared and he could do nothing to soothe the pain.

He used to pull his son close into his arms, secure him there and read him stories or recount tales from the past at nights Yanqing couldn't sleep. He wonders if he should have paid more attention to the beating heart against him, comforting in the constant rhythm of alive, alive, alive-

His grip on Yanqing faltered as slick blood sluggishly gushed out of the wound on his tiny body. How could someone this small lose this much blood?

Before he could’ve tried to bring his son a false sense of security, the least he could've done for his frightened child, he saw his breath even out and his eyelids flutter shut against the remaining tears streaming down his face. The tears that washed away the grime on his young face only to leave tracks of evident pain behind.

Jing Yuan couldn't do anything when yanqing slowly nudged his face into his neck, with his last remaining strength, to breathe out a final…apology.

"Baba, I'm sorry....I...failed you."

Before he could retort back to dispel the thought, (How had he failed to notice this brewing insecurity? What kind of father-) he felt the body completely slump into his arms, warmth dissipating from his body already.

Oh how he wished for the cold to be from Yanqing's frost, and not from his dying body.

He couldn't remember how long he sat there, but it must have been enough for Dan Heng to approach him and rest a (reassuring?) hand on his shoulder. He might've spoken something but Jingyuan could hear nothing over the blood boiling in his veins, over the unresponsive body in his arms, pulled close to his own to at least share a portion of his own body heat in desperate hopes of convincing himself that his son was still alive. He clutched him tightly enough to probably hurt, but hurting would have been good, it would've meant that he was still breathing.

The haze eventually cleared when he felt the dam finally break in its wake.

Jing Yuan swayed forward into his lap with his hands covering his face, hiding himself from the world, from himself, and from him. He heard a loud whimper before registering an inhumane cry of pure agony, not realising that the sound was torn out from himself.

He wanted to slam his fist into the mattress, feel the wooden frame of the bed break underneath his hands. He needed to let out the pain somehow, but he could find no purchase when he felt a pair of hands firmly, yet gently, remove his tightly clenched fingers clutching the bunched up sheets. He felt bitterly vulnerable as he struggled against the firm hold, pushing him back down onto the bed, the rough material of the bandage grating against his wrists. He cried out at the cruelty that denied him the simple notion of curling in on himself, the need in his body to clutch something, someone close against him growing stronger by the second. What more could Ren want from him?

"LEAVE!” He lashed out, sobbing with broken hiccups. He hated how exposed he felt, having nowhere to hide his face.

"Leave like you always did! Leave like you were always meant to, because leaving is the only thing you are good at-"

The words promptly got stuck in his throat though, as he distinctly felt a drop of tear hitting his face. The following whimper made Jingyuan finally turn back to gaze into Ren's contorted face, his lips pulled into a wobbling snarl with his brows tightly knit together. Ren hovered over him as gold met red and more tears struck his skin as they emerged from eyes barely kept open.

Despite a faint voice in his head urging him to wipe away tears if his past lover, Jing Yuan couldn't find it in himself to be merciful for this once. He has shown enough mercy in this lifetime, he wanted to be selfish for once.

"You killed our son, Ren. It was me who had raised him, and now it again has to be me....to see through his funeral." Jing Yuan weeped, still reeling from the onslaught of guilt. “How many more Ren? How many more?”

If Jing Yuan went overboard with his demands, then he did. The patience meticulously crafted over the years shattering in mere seconds.

He saw Ren violently wince, and it…shouldn't have been as satisfactory as it was, but he couldn't deny the cruel satisfaction of watching the murderer collapse under the realisation of his own crimes. Perhaps this is what Ren wanted to feel as well when he chased Dan Heng across the universe.

Ren finally left the hold around his wrists as he sank onto the ground to his knees, his face dejectedly pushed into the mattress, going completely still despite a hand still faintly holding onto Jing Yuan's own. If it was an apology, then Jing Yuan couldn't tell.

#aratribow #my...writing?#honkai star rail #jing yuan #hsr jing yuan #hsr blade #jingren #yanqing #jing yuan and yanqing #jing yuan is YQ'S PARENT #me @ ren: *how does it feel to kill your own kid?*#renjing with possibly no happy ending i suppose #i love yq mcd because it puts his father through another bouts of severe depression and what ifs

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sugar-omi · 9 months ago

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(I’m on my 🩸so please excuse the hornyness)

I woke up this morning with cove on my mind (who doesn’t) and just thought of a funny scenario. imagine the step 2 moment where MC and Cove can cuddle but they weren’t quietly told that it’s not ok by Cove’s mom. Skip to step 3 they love cuddling as friends. (they are still secretly in love with each other tho) this leads us to my dirty little thought, Cove and MC as friends having a little sleepover at Cove’s house and cuddling. Poor sweet Cove has a dirty dream about his dear friend MC, when he wakes up from it he finds himself hard as a rock and his hips grinding on their own into MC’s ass. And of course cove would quickly run to the bathroom without waking MC and panic to himself and try to get it down.

Or MC wakes up before cove because of the movement and lowkey doesn’t mind it, MC pushes back against cove a little and just listens to the little sounds he makes in his sleep

OMG TWINS 🤭🤭 omg maybe thats why my cove posts have been so unhinged lately... so excuse ME for the feralness im about to drop rn because youve planted a nassssty seed in my head..

cove usually doesn't have dirty dreams, always dreams about the beach or his fish, or something asinine. can count his dirty dreams on his fingers with some leftover.

before, they'd always been faceless. couldn't tell a single detail of who it was, even if it didn't matter.

but this time it wasn't a question of who it was.

the dream is so vivid, and the pleasure shooting through his veins feels way too good when he realizes it's you grinding against his bulge.

in fact, it feels better than when he gets himself off, and dream-you isn't even touching his cock yet, your crotch grinding along the length of his bulge in his sweatpants.

every roll of your hips is so fucking delicious he feels like he could collapse. can't help but grab onto your hips, helping you move and roll his hips into yours.

and when you lean forward, hands on his chest under his shirt, feeling up the dips and valleys of his lean muscle, your lips inching closer until they finally meet...

he definitely thinks this is as close as he can heaven. your plush lips move against his, the kiss becoming more passionate, more heated as he tries to match you.

if anyone could see inside his dream right now, they'd think you're passionate lovers, your lips slotted together perfectly, like you're meant to be, and he wonders if you'd feel like this in real life too. if your kiss would be this good, this enticing, and when your tongue slips past his lips, invading his mouth, he wonders if you'd taste this sweet too.

you break the kiss, leaving him hot and panting, his chest rising and falling like he's ran a marathon, your lips trailing from his mouth down his jaw, quickly finding a sensitive area under his ear, right behind his jaw.

doesn't even realize you're shoving down his sweatpants, your own pants disposed of at some point in this dream, until he feels the heat and wetness of your sexes rubbing together

let's out such a pretty and loud whimpery-moan, curses and bucks up into your cunt, making his length glide against your wet, hot core. / hand, thrusting up into your tight fist wrapped around both your cocks.

forgets this is a dream for a moment, distantly thinking he wants to see the end. and his stomach feels so hot, so tight like he's gonna burst.

eyes rolling when dream-you says his name right in his ear, your voice breathy and desperate...

when he opens his eyes, hoping to see your blissed out face, all he sees is a dim room. his room. and the back of your head...

his heart is beating out his chest, and he doesn't even need time to wakeup before he realizes what happened. especially when he feels his hard length pressed right against your ass, the heat and bit of pressure from your ass against his cock has him losing his grip on reality a bit.

but the guilt crashes on him, can't believe he had a dirty dream about you. much less with you in his arms.

it's a miracle if you don't wake up, cove's a big clumsy mess all the time, but this time the shock has him moving a bit more calmly. calmly as in he doesn't scream or squeak, and doesn't flail or fall off the bed like he otherwise would.

but he does unwind his arms around you, carefully pulling his arm from under your body and trying to untangle himself from his bedsheets and your legs.

really, it's a miracle this hadn't happened before. especially when you were 13 and your hormones had more control of your body than you did.

slips out of bed, so thankful that his bed is close to the door and there's minimal creaking of the door and floorboards. all but dashes to the bathroom.

i wonder how he'd deal with his. well.. big problem.

he'd been leaning on the counter, his shaggy hair hanging in his face and he's painfully aware of how hard his cock is. he's fucking throbbing in his sweats, his hard length heavy against his thigh.. he couldn't fucking forget about it. and can't forget that dream.

thinks about waiting it out or a cold shower. but a cold shower doesn't sound appealing at all, and he really doubts his hard-on is going anywhere...

resigns to getting himself off. hoping just once will be enough.. hopes that maybe he can finish quickly before you wake up, he's still pumping after his near orgasm in that dream.. fuck he's kind of glad he woke up now, realizing it'd be really fucking embarrassing if you woke up to cove creaming his pants of you dry humping him (and then some) in his dream

his eyes roll and flutter shut when his hand wraps around his length, his shirt muffling the moan on the tip of his tongue. it doesn't feel nearly as good as it did in his dream...

but he really tries not to think about that. it's so fucking disrespectful to you to keep thinking about it, let alone get off to it.

focuses on all his ero spots, that way he can finish faster and even if he's shaking in his hands because he's running his thumb over his sensitive mushroom head, and giving his cock short, tight pumps, and his nimble fingers find their way to his chest..

well he just needs to hurry up and finish before you wake up and so he doesn't think about that dream, trying to replace all his senses with himself in lue of you. albeit dream you, but still you.

hates that he thought about his best friend like that, and hates that he can hardly get off without distantly thinking about how this would probably feel so much better if it was you touching his cock...

thrusts up into his hand, biting down around his shirt as he groans lowly, but the sound is still loud in this quiet house, and he hopes you didn't get up at some point, walking by and hear him..

if only you could see what a pathetic sight he is.. panting, shirt bunched up and wrinkled, his pants sloppily shoved down his thighs and his cock flushed and throbbing in his hand, covered in his thick, bountiful load.

even he can't help but curse because fuck he feels like a fucking degenerate. feels dirty. he doesn't eve. know how he's gonna look at you, and fuck you definitely can't cuddle anymore until he gets a grip on himself.

but how would he explain that? "hey i had a wet dream about you, sorry bestie, let's not cuddle anymore unless you wanna wake up to my hard dick on you"

that's too weird, and creepy. God he'd hate if you found him creepy and disgusting, the thought of what your expression could be makes him said and he makes his stomach twist...

can't even return to the room, it feels too awkward to do so now. he'd really feel like a creep if he slipped back into bed with you.

ends up setting up camp in the living room, either doing his abandoned homework or trying to find some way to distract himself, wouldn't be surprised if he ends up falling asleep on the couch.

but regardless of how he spends the rest of the night. what if you are awake, and realize what's happening?...

doesn't matter if you're a night owl or a gentle sleeper, although either help because you realize it so much sooner than if you're asleep

i mean, who wouldn't realize their best friend (and crush), gasping in their ear and then moaning softly, his hips bumping into you..

whatever the case, you're awake now when he tightens his grip around your midsection, his hips easily and expertly rolling against your butt, and his legs, which are tangled with yours, easily forces you to move against him, his cock so obviously hardening, getting thicker and so fucking prominent, against your ass.

your heart is beating against your chest like a drum. you're losing your fucking mind, you can't believe what's happening..

your teeth sink into your lip when you hear cove call out a soft, cut-off call of your name.

he's dreaming about you. and clearly it's something dirty if his bulge is anything to go by.

you can't deny that it's turning you on either. it's be weird if it didn't. your crush pressed against you, grinding his fat cock into your ass while having a nice dream about you? it's surprisingly flattering, and you're loving it

as it goes on, cove's hips progressively get more.. aggressive. almost. your head is spinning.

you wish you could know what he's dreaming about and wish it'd happen in real life, right here and right now. but for now, you'll settle for your own mind. afterall, you have plenty of fuel to run off of.

cove's moans and gasps are so pretty, even his indistinguishable mumbling is making your blood pump. his murmurs are usually a good sign after all.

and his cock.. you didn't expect him to be small. he's a big guy, after all, and to say he's packing a third leg might be an exaggeration, but fuck if he's not coke bottle thick and clearly long enough to hit all those deep, deliciously impossible spots inside you.

you wanna wake him up. but if you do.. you wonder what he'd do. run away? probably. you're not even going out, so his first reaction would definitely be to apologize profusely and go hide.

of course, he does wake up, though. you realize that when the grinding stops suddenly, and he tenses around you, and eventually, he starts prying his limbs from under you.

you reprimand your heart for being disappointed that he doesn't check if you're awake and proceed to do something with you, anything at all, maybe even recreate that dream.

and you are torn between logic letting you let him slip out the door, and your desperation wanting to pull him into bed.

he's gone for awhile, you're not sure how long, but it's a few minutes that make you think maybe he's.. taking care of his problem. and then it makes you think that you could take care of your own problem if you're quick enough.

there's definitely a line crossed. tonight has blurred the line between you, knowingly.

you let him keep grinding into you, even if he doesn't know that.

so whats one more thing he doesn't know, your body shifting to his side of the bed, his body heat and the scent of his shampoo and cologne thicker now that you're on the side he slept.

and your hand slipping under the sheets.. your eyes fluttering closed as you try to imagine a scenario between you. surely, you can imagine it just this once, balance out the scale?

#olba #our life: beginnings & always #cove holden #cove holden x reader #smut #cove holden smut

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