#is it even ethical for them to have a pairing tag | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

heechwe · 10 days ago

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NO DOUBT | 박종성

⟢ PAIRING: park (jay) jongseong x fem!reader ⟢ WORD COUNT: 4.1K ⟢ GENRE: hints of comedy, smut ⟢ TAGS: ceo!jay, employee!reader, sexual tension for the win, pwp, dirty talk, oral fixation, pet names (pretty, princess, etc.), sir kink, degradation kink, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, breath play, spanking, creampie ⟢ SYNOPSIS: You hate your boss to an insurmountable degree, and he more than likely feels the same with the way he constantly berates you. But only when you finally give him a piece of your mind do you understand his animosity stems from a rather surprising place. -ˋˏ✄┈┈ AUTHOR'S NOTE: Happy birthday to Mr. Park himself! This was so much fun to write even if I'm losing my mind at work myself, unfortunately. Thank you to my lovely friends for beta'ing for me once again—Linda @xomakara, Ally @lovetaroandtaemin, and Booki @kwanisms—and of course we all know the song that inspired the title this time.

You might have to kill Mr. Park, preferably with something incredibly sharp.

Every remark your boss throws at you, verbal or handwritten, trickles down your body like acid. It's a wonder you haven't been eaten alive by his criticisms already, the CEO cruel in his meticulous focus and scathing remarks.

These estimates look terrible.

My dog could create a better spreadsheet than this—before he chewed it up, anyway.

Do you always lack focus on projects like this?

Just because he's the head of Daydream Media does not mean he gets to parade around with the energy of a pompous cockatiel. As soon as the thought comes up, though, you shut it down. Cockatiels are much cuter than him, and probably a lot cuddlier too.

Working under the guy for twelve months, you know how unrelenting his desire for perfection can be. Starting his company straight out of high school, the business went from a passion project in his garage to a multi-tier musical instrument and audio equipment manufacturer that could make Yamaha blush.

Park's admirable work ethic drove you to apply for a job at his company in the first place. Yet, his need to micromanage others quickly overpowered all the qualities you first admired about the man. His head status practically ensures all he needs to do during work hours is oversee company meetings and sit prettily at his desk. So why did he have to be such a prick?

You're grumbling to yourself as you type out your response to his last email regarding your monthly sales report. Every clack of your laptop's keyboard feels and sounds like gunshots in your ears. You try to remember to stick to facts, keep your response level, and do all the things you've learned from years working with pretentious dickheads like Park.

But there's something about him specifically, the irritation he stirs in you so deeply ingrained beyond the surface of your dignity you can't seem to think rationally.

Your cubby mate, Sunghoon, notices the tension pervading your shoulders and neck, the veins in them close to bulging from your skin. He slaps you on the back with a manila folder, and you roll your eyes in response.

"What crawled up your ass and took a vacation?"

You give him your best fake smile as you punctuate your email's last sentence with a period. "Who do you think?"

"Santa Claus? I hate that fucker." Sunghoon's smirk can usually put you out of any funky mood you're in, but not today. You smile with closed lips instead, hoping the message gets across well. I love you, but it's not the best time.

You close the email and rotate your chair in his direction. Sunghoon may put too much gel in his hair and annoy you to no end, but he's your best friend, regardless. He's partially the reason you stick around the hell-ridden office you've made a home in for a year. "Mr. Park," is the only answer you give him to curtail his initial sardonic guess.

"Ah, head honcho." He flicks his gaze toward your boss's office, a stray hair whipping into his forehead. "What's he mad about now?"

"My latest stats for the new snare kits." You huff out a breath of air. Rubbing your temple, you try to curtail the impending headache on the horizon. "Don't know if he's pissed they're not selling as predicted or because I didn't make the headers on the sheet the right shade of green."

"Hey!" Sunghoon points one of his slender fingers in your face. "You know the guy uses night mode on his fancy PC all the time. He needs to see the projections, you heathen."

Just as a laugh is ready to escape your mouth, your computer pings. The notification reads the email is from the devil himself. As you click it to pop open the application in full-screen mode, you wonder what Park could say so quickly after you gave him a three-paragraph-length explanation on your report.

When you read the single line of text, any semblance of happiness turns to bile in your throat.

You'd think with your degree, you'd be able to spell "acquisition" correctly.

All the composure you tried to muster dies. Your jaw muscles tighten and your teeth gnash against each other as the words replay in your head over and over. He has no right, and yet he does at the same time. He didn't need to say it the way he did, and yet it's here in black and white for you to spiral because of, the exasperated and petulant tone practically hitting your eardrum in the way only his voice can.

You ruminate on your initial thought of murder, and you know even now—despite the ever-present reason to put the guy in a casket—it's childish.

But if you can't kill him, the less drastic option is to at least give him a piece of your mind.

Your chair bangs against the cubby opposite of yours when you stand up, and Sunghoon flinches. "Hey, don't do something you'll regret," your best friend warns.

"Trust me, I won't," you mutter quickly before storming off in the direction of the executive offices.

At lightning speed, you're in front of Jay Park himself. The man's ready to dig into a chocolate cupcake when you approach him.

"Do you get off on being an asshole?" The words come out biting and high-pitched, but every knot in your gut unfurls when you say it. His eyes bug out, and that gives you the perfect signal to continue before he can open his mouth with a witty comeback.

"I spelled one fucking word wrong in an email, and it was another excuse for you to pick me apart and prove you're the one calling the shots here. But having millions of dollars to your name or a shitload of success doesn't make you a good person. You treat so many people in this company like disposable pieces of garbage, when the only one who should feel like that is you!

"You're an arrogant, self-centered, irritable…" Your last words disintegrate on your tongue when you see the single pink candle strewn across his desk. The flame was puffed out long ago, but it tells you all you need to know.

You're giving your boss the proverbial middle finger on his birthday.

In the second between realizing you've been telling him off to considerable lengths for a long minute and the fact you've done so on his birthday of all days makes you flush. Your entire body drains of its color the longer you remain silent. How could you forget this day? Why did you have to find courage at the worst time?

He doesn't yell back, scoff, or do any of the telltale things you expect from him by now. Instead, all he does is laugh. He almost smashes his face into the cupcake in front of his lips as the chuckles exit his mouth.

"I thought Chaewon in accounting giving me this would be the highlight of my day," he lifts his cupcake for dramatic effect as he speaks, "but that…tirade has to be the best present I've had in a long time." He sets the cupcake down and stands up from his desk, but not before rolling the cuffs of his button up to his forearms, wiping the crumbs off of his fingers with disinterest.

You stutter, unsure how to continue now or what he plans on doing. As you try composing an apology, the automatic blinds to the windows that give Jay a bird's-eye view of the employee floor from his office come down. You slowly watch the people outside of the room leave the corner of your eye, and you gulp. "I—"

"I admire your courage, you know. Walking in here with that angry pout and little performance. I thought you couldn't get any cuter."

"I didn't pre-plan it," you interrupt him, some of your flare coming back in full color. Even as you say it, your mind hangs on his last word like a clothespin. Cuter?

You never would've expected that word to come from his mouth. Not in relation to you, anyway.

"Of course." His smile remains plastered across his face, but it doesn't meet his eyes. "Do you remember that team-building retreat in Seosan? It must've been around your three-month mark here with us."

You nod vigorously, going back to the memories of that vacation in your mind's eye. That word fits better, you think, when you recall sipping cocktails and lounging by the pool with Sunghoon and your mutual friend in sales, Jake. You did your typically professional routine by day, attending meetings and learning seminars like an astute employee. The nights that accompanied them were filled with fun and laughter you were glad to have with your new coworkers.

"Yes, I remember." You stand stock still even as he steps closer, the professional bubble on the precipice of being popped with every step he takes to get closer to you.

"Do you ever stop to think when my…excuses to pick you apart, as you said, began to occur?" He holds his fingers under his chin, pretending to contemplate the answer to the question with you, and while it riles you up, it leaves you more confused.

"It must've been…" You bite your lip, unsure what intentions are hiding behind his questions. "I'm not sure."

"One of the first emails I sent to you was marked right after we came back from the trip."

"I—I don't understand."

Jay laughs again, the sound hollow. "For an incredibly brilliant woman, it seems you need things made explicitly clear to you."

He's so close now, you smell the mint on his breath. It's intoxicating mixed with his cologne—Prada, you think. The mixture combined with his proximity makes your knees buckle a fraction. "Maybe something about you caught my eye, sipping Mai Tais one minute and being so prim and proper the next, and I've been spending the past excruciatingly long nine months trying to figure out what. All I know is that it's definitely not your penchant for spelling." His eyes gleam with sincerity, a rawness that you've never witnessed in his presence. This is the first time you've ever been alone together, truthfully.

"Respectfully, sir, there's nothing particularly eye-catching about me," you say meekly. "It's not like I'm the one with the company—"

Jay's lips slamming into yours is the last sensation you planned on feeling because of him. You can live with displeasure, annoyance, exasperation, but this is entirely new. He captures the inside of your mouth with his tongue, pressing in and probing like he's never felt someone more worthy of exploring before.

His fingers find purchase at your waist, and he takes your bottom half in both of his hands as he continues navigating your mouth. The spank he lands to one side pushes you further into him, and his body rumbles in delight. He's searching for the answer to his previous question; you can tell. What is it about you that's been driving him crazy, and continues to do so?

His intense physical analysis of you and your body makes you cry out, eager for more and not settling for anything else. Has this been always sitting under the surface, the tension you so adamantly assumed was hatred? You should've noted the way he stared at you from across the bar all those months ago, lights twinkling behind his head as he quietly observed you in all of your alcohol-flushed but starlit stupors.

Again, the words run around the two of you like a marathon, practically screaming in your ears: it's always existed, this tie between you both that you once assumed was founded on disdain.

Boy, were you fucking wrong.

Jay pulls away when he hears your moan fill the room. "Forgive me," he starts, "I just couldn't help myself." You must look breathless, seem dumbstruck, for him to hold you with such care and tenderness. You barely recognize the man in front of you, the tyrant you purported to know long gone.

He runs a finger across your bottom lip, and you can't fight the urge to take the digit into your mouth. When you bite down on the soft skin of his index finger, he groans. "I just apologized for my lack of control. Don't make me lose it again, princess."

The pet name shoots you in between the legs, your body jelly in his hold when his eyes stare you down so intensely. "What if I want you to…sir?"

He takes your throat in one palm and kisses you deeply, cutting off your breathing just a touch for you to focus only on his mouth. Like he's the only thing that can keep you breathing if you just give into him.

"I thought you hated me," he confesses in between kisses. He peppers them across your cheeks and takes a long pull at your mouth again before pushing you into the edge of his desk. You squeal when he lifts you up and sets you down on the glass tabletop, not stopping his barrage of kisses and licks to your skin.

"B-Because it's not normal to feel the opposite. To have a crush on your very powerful and intimidating boss isn't exactly smiled upon in the code of conduct, sir," you whisper as he trails his lips down your neck, across your collarbones. He even goes so far as to dip his nose towards the center of your cleavage. You never hated him, you realize. He frustrates you to no end, for sure, but that emotion clearly has many facets that you never dissected before.

"So you think I'm intimidating now?" Jay questions you with a lilt of humor that is unmissable. He unties your blouse and unclasps your bra in record time so both articles of clothing fall to the floor like raindrops, insignificant now that they're out of the way. It would be incredibly easy to get lost in the beauty of your chest, the peaks of your nipples and curve of your breasts, details Jay wants to take to his short and long term memory, but he's got a one-track mind that points south. If he enjoyed making you squirm with words before, he smirks to himself at how different it'll be for you when uses his body this time.

"I've always thought you were," you confess. You gasp when he bunches your skirt between his fingers to sit the material at your hips, exposing your lace panties. The fabric is soaked by now; you swear you can feel a damp spot forming under you and on his desk.

But he looks more than satisfied.

"Fuck, this is how wet you get?" The question is more for his ears than yours, and you whine from the lack of his touch on your skin, although you've had a plethora of that merely a second ago. You thought you were burning before, but now you're on fire and close to becoming ash before he's even truly done anything.

"Mr. Park, p-please," you beg, slightly gyrating against the glass desk for some relief. It's better than doing nothing to fix the ache he's created.

"It's Jongseong," he interrupts you with a smile. "Jay if it's easier pretty, but I do love it when you use my surname like that." He nips your lips again, licking inside your mouth lewdly.

"Lie back," he commands. It's hard to do as he asks with so much in the way, but the problem's immediately solved when he throws the contents on his desk—including his laptop—to the side. Everything clatters to the floor, but you fight the urge to react outwardly. The only physical reaction is your eyes going wide at the sound the clattering of his pencils, books, and electronics just made. Your reaction causes him to scoff, the sound on the edge of wickedness. "I can get all of this brand-new in a second. Don't focus on that," he says with his hands rubbing the outside of your thighs in tender circles, "and focus on laying down now, princess."

You let your bare back softly hit the glass. The desk is cold against your naked skin, but the sensation's immediately replaced by the warmth of Jay's breath against you. "You're beautiful. Just like I dreamed," he whispers, partly amazed and fully intoxicated, before diving in.

Jay immediately laps and sucks along your folds—the sounds of his mouth working your hole reverberating across the walls—as if he's been starved for decades. He takes your clit between his lips as a finger prods your center. The digit hooks inside of your core without issue. He eats you out like no man has ever done to you or for you before, his method alternating between long strokes of his fingers and little flicks of his tongue. How could heaven be so attainable with someone you initially saw as the devil incarnate?

"You asked me if I get off on being an asshole," he whispers into your cunt. "I don't. But I just might from touching you. You taste impeccable." He slaps your clit abruptly, making you keen. He presses the hand originally at your neck against your chest, your heartbeat thrumming against his palm. The tempo is all for him, a beat he wishes to hear on loop forever.

“It's like you were made for me," he whispers, "the perfect little slut splayed out like this." He inches your thighs further apart to see the way your hole glistens with his spit and your gathering arousal. The sight makes the strain of his erection in his slacks a touch more painful. It begs for him to do something else fast to relieve the surmounting pressure, but he puts off the urge for now. "I fucking love it."

"Jong—sir—I'm gonna come," you announce, the lower half of your center bumping into his chin harshly from how hard you're following the movements of his mouth. You shouldn't chase it so fiercely, but you want him to pick you apart in this way. You've never wished for anything more in your life.

And you know he'll put you back together just to repeat the process all over again.

"Come for me, princess. I want to feel it on my tongue." He replaces his finger with the wet muscle, dipping inside of you to lap up all of you before you completely crumble. Jay takes it all beautifully, allowing his face to be covered in you in the aftermath. You scream out as your release continues overtaking your better judgement. Your brain doesn't care how loud your cries of pleasure must be or have been.

Your coworkers saw you walk in here moments ago; they have to know what you're getting up to, legs spread for your boss and letting him use you for all of his fantasies. But, as you float back to consciousness, you don't seem to give a fuck about any of them.

"You did so well for me, pretty." Jay unbuckles his belt and unzips his fly just a touch to pull his cock from his pants. He hisses when he touches himself, and you know he must be aching from no stimulation prior to this moment. "Think you can handle one more?"

"Yes, sir, please." You say it with such a twinkle in your eye, Jay doesn't seem to care if he breaks the Italian-made iron of his desk. He has to have you, to cover your body with his and push you beyond your limits again.

Jay does exactly that, squishing you between his white button up and the glass underneath you, but you wouldn’t mind if he collapsed your lungs at this point. He's taken you to the edge of breathlessness by now, so there's nothing stopping him from fully toppling you over.

He slides inside of you without issue, your previous arousal creating the right amount of slip. But he's so big, his cock tightly filling your pussy with every inch, the tears that fill your eyes are unavoidable. "S-sir, it's t-too much—"

Jay halts the lie on your lips with his own, his teeth tugging at your bottom lip with a fierce power. "It's not nearly enough, pretty. You feel incredible, so tight. Such a tight little cunt, and all mine."

You nod your head as he thrusts, fat tears falling down your cheeks as he sets a relentless rhythm. The iron fixtures of Jay's desk squeak and tremble from how hard his hips snap up into you, but the only sounds he focuses on are your mewls and labored breaths. You're a vision, fucked out and trembling, and he can't picture a moment where you don't captivate his very being.

The answer to his earlier question hits him like a flutter of wind to the face: it's everything about you. Your relentless effort to every minute task that mirrors his own, your smart retorts to his endless critiques, the way your eyes crinkle at the edges when you laugh. It's all that pervades his mind, but the new images of your slung mouth and sounds you make on the brink of your second orgasm take precedence on the list of ways you enthrall him.

He reaches in between you to pinch and roll your clit against his thumb and index finger, feeling his own release on the tip of his tongue. "Come with me, princess. Let me feel it."

You don't need to hear it a second time to listen to his words clearly. You rattle around his cock like thunder that follows a stroke of lightning, your body shaking as your body surges with endorphins. If your first orgasm was bright and blinding, this one is all-encompassing and soul-shattering, threading into every seam of you so you don't forget how it feels to be pleasured so well, loved so thoroughly.

Jay comes right after you, his warmth flooding you as his body goes taut from his own shocks of numbing pleasure. You know he feels the same, with the way his brows knit together and his jaw slacks. His hips stutter to a full stop, and he can barely pull out of you without his body quaking. He watches the traces of his cum leak out, mixing with the arousal still surrounding your hole, and he knows he's in it now. He'll never go back.

You slump against him when he lays back on the table. The staccato of his heartbeat sweeps through your right eardrum. The muscle's tempo is an exact match for your own racing chest.

"I can't believe I was so loud," you murmur into the silence that follows your labored breaths. Jay looks down at you with a dazed smirk, and you giggle with a shy smile before tucking your face in between your fingers.

Jay takes both palms in his own to kiss, and semblances of the sweat on his skin touch you like dew. It's beautiful to be so wrong about someone, this gentleness he's displaying proving that fact perfectly. "The glass is laminated, and the rest of the walls are soundproof, princess. Nobody could hear you in here unless I truly gave it my all."

You smirk, unruffled by the fact your boss always thinks one step ahead of everyone, even in situations like this. "That wasn't your all?" You blush and tuck your face into his neck, the question rhetorical and teasing. "Seems you have a lot to show me."

"That I will." He takes your jaw between his fingers when he kisses you again. Mint still lingers on his tongue behind the traces of your arousal, and you could become a puddle again from how unreal it all seems. The past thirty minutes, the preceding moments before you walked into his office, and the plans that lay ahead for the future. "But not before I take you on a proper date."

Months later, you sit at your desk with only your boss on your mind, his eyes lingering on you even as his CFO Lee Heeseung discusses something menial with him. You try to go back to your laptop screen, the seasonal trends report for the new line of guitar strings begging to be completed, but it's no use. You're enthralled with the man across the office space, just like he is with you.

So when the email to meet him in his office for an "oral report" of the latest documented projections comes a few moments later, you don't question him, the man you love.

You thought you wanted to kill your boss before, but it was truly unexpected how many deaths—both little and enormous—Jay Park seemed to have in his pocket for you.

@gyubakeries @loserlvrss @jjunberry @frenchkisstheabyss @prkhaven @tinycatharsis @fangel @aaa-sia @yvnempire @addictedtohobi @innocygnet @filmnings @lovetaroandtaemin @xylatox @dawngyu

𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 ── .✦ @kstrucknet @k-films @kvanity-main @lapydiaries @/moadiarynet @/pirateeznet @/thediamondlifenetwork @sweetvenomnet @violetanet @whipped-kpop-creators

𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫 𝑴𝒀 𝑶𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹 𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑲𝑺 𝒐𝒓 𝑱𝑶𝑰𝑵 𝑴𝒀 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻𝑺 © 𝖠𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝖧𝖤𝖤𝖢𝖧𝖶𝖤; 𝖣𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖻𝗎𝗍𝖾 𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍.

#enhypen x reader #park jongseong x reader #park jongseong smut #jongseong smut #enhypen smut #enha smut #enha x reader #park jongseong fic #jongseong fic #jongseong fics #enhypen fic #enhypen fics #enha fic #enha fics #[ lexi's works ]#[ lw - enhypen ]

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mimikittysblog · 6 months ago

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♡21:40♡

Pairing: Poly! Ateez x Fem! Reader

Genre: Super duper fluffy

Warnings: some mxm, pet names, reader is very sick

A/N: Hope you guys like this as much as you like the texts 🥺💕 tho ngl the ending is a bit meh. Anyways likes, replies and reblogs are so appreciated!

Tagging: @faeprincess777 @starygw3n @bee-gremlin @pinkpearlstar @sweetinsaniiity (if you wanna be tagged in my next poly ateez story, texts or not then please let me know!)

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

You were sick.

Like very sick.

You had been for a while and you really thought it would just go away after some time and with a few cups of good tea. However it was just one of those times where it didn’t and it lead to where you were now.

Flopped on the couch after a long days of work so sick, tired and weak to the point you didn’t even take off your shoes, let alone take a shower.

You knew you should’ve taken the day off and even more so you should’ve informed your lovely 8 boyfriends of your condition. However it was so busy for not only you but your boys this time of year. Your job really needed you around and the boys had to be on their A game.

Not like they weren’t always were. Those boys are so admirable when it comes to their work ethic and determination. It’s one of the things you love about them. It’s just this time of year is when they really have NO room to slack off. So you didn’t have the heart to tell them.

You barely see them around anyway, as they come home late and you leave early. You couldn’t bare the thought of them having to deal with you when they’re already so busy with work, no doubt dealing with so much pressure and stress. Even though deep down you knew they wouldn’t care and would drop anything to make sure you’re okay.

‘Cause you would do the exact same thing.

About an hour after you practically passed out on the couch, Yunho and San arrived home.

Thankfully they were able to get all the work they needed to get done super quick today, so they got home much earlier than usual. As they walked into the living room thats when Yunho spotted you.

He chuckled at how cutely you looked and then pointed you out to San who awed at you. They thought you just got home too and decided to close your eyes for a bit.

“Princess we’re home.” Yunho called sweetly.

“Come on now silly butt, get up so we can shower together.” San said with a big smile at the thought of relaxing under the shower with his lovers.

However you didn’t respond.

They both pouted and furrowed their eyebrows as they got closer. You were asleep? That’s quite unlike you. They knew how much you love a refreshing shower after work then to change into one of their hoodies. Were you that tired?

“..sweetheart?” Yunho said as he crouched down next to the couch. He softly moved your hair out of your face to check up on you.

Just from that very soft touch alone he was able to tell how hot your skin was. His eyes widened and as he looked at San with worry.

“Baby you’re sick??” He asked surprised as he looked back at you wondering how he and the rest had no idea.

“What?” San questioned softly as he crouched next to Yunho.

He then places the back of his hand properly on your forehead. His eyes also then widened with worry as there was no denying it.

You were incredibly sick.

Their hearts clenched at how they truly had no clue how sick you were, how much you needed them and how you didn’t tell them..

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

Yunho: Guys. Come home. Now.

Seonghwa: what why? What’s the matter?

San: Princess is sick. She has such a high fever and from the sound of her breathing her nose is stuffed. She’s literally passed out on the couch rn and god knows what other sicknesses she’s having.

Wooyoung: WHAT?! She didn’t tell us anything! 🥺

Yunho: I know and at this point that doesn’t matter rn. She needs us. Hurry.

After they sent the texts to the rest of them they quickly got to work.

As Yunho picked you up softly and carried you to bed, San prepared a small basin filled with cold water and some towels. As Yunho was undressing you, San brought in the basin and they both started cleaning you as softly as they could.

Truly not long after they started, they heard the front door open and peeked in Jongho, Seonghwa and Wooyoung.

“How bad is it..?” Jongho asked as he softly entered the room with the rest.

“..bad..” Yunho muttered.

Seonghwa then carefully approached you and placed his hand on your forehead too and almost gasped.

“She’s burning up.. Oh God our poor princess..” he said as he softly ran his hand through your hair.

Wooyoung then approached Yunho with a hoodie from their closet and your shorts.

“Thank you love.” Yunho said softly as he gave Wooyoung a kiss on the head and started dressing you as soon as San was sure you were dry.

“Seonghwa hyung and I are gonna go make her some soup. Yeosang is already on his way home, Hongjoong hyung and Mingi are going as fast as they can to finish recording. They’ll be home soon..” He mumbled to the two who arrived home first.

“Okay.. I’ll go help you cook too, you two will watch over her?” San asked

“Yeah of course.” Jongho confirmed as he sat down next to you and softly stroked your hair.

Yunho then nodded as he gave wooyoung another kiss and sent him on his way.

“You’ve eaten Yunho?” Seonghwa asked.

“Uh.. no not yet hyung. We got take out but we haven’t eaten it yet...” Yunho explained as his eyes trailed back down to you.

“Hmm alright.. I’ll make Sannie eat then once he’s done you can eat and San will watch over.” Seonghwa said as he reached over to grab his hand.

“Alright hyung.. thank you..”

“Of course.”

With that he gave yunho’s hand a comforting squeeze then gave jongho a sweet pat on the head before leaving to join the others in the kitchen.

“Could she really not tell us she was this sick..?” Jongho asked softly still stroking your hair.

“I.. don’t know.. we’ll ask her when she’s awake and feeling better.” Yunho replied as he sat down on the bed as well softly holding your hand.

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

As they continued to watch over you, after a while they heard the front door open and some muttering. Soon the door to the room opened again revealing Yeosang.

“Oh princess… she looks so pale..” He muttered as he made his way to her. “Has she not woken up yet?” He asked as he stood beside Jongho.

“No.. we should just let her rest before we wake her up to eat.” Jongho replied.

“Hmm. I bought some medicine on my way home.. Hopefully they’re enough.. if not we can take her to a doctor…” Yeosang informs the two boys as he placed the medicine on a nearby table.

“Thank you Sangie..” Yunho said before continuing to ask if the soup is ready. And right on cue, Wooyoung popped his head in again.

“Soups ready. And yunho baby, Hyung wants you to eat now.” He said.

The lovers in the room then nodded.

As softly as he possibly could, Yunho began to wake you up.

“Princess.. princess.. wake up please..? We need you to eat and take some medicine…” He said oh so softly with some extra soft shakes.

“Baby..? Baaaabbyy..” Yeosang also called out to you.

Your eyes soon started to flutter open as you take in your surroundings. You however closed them again quickly as the headache in your head began.

“Ugh..” you groaned

“Oh baby what is it..? Your head hurts..?” Jongho who was still stroking your hair asked.

You could only nod.

“Honey bun.. do you think you can get up..? You need to eat..” Wooyoung asked

Slowly you opened your eyes again and finally realized your sweet boyfriends were home.

“Wait.. you guys are home? So early..” You muttered, voice so hoarse it made everyone frown.

“Yes we are sweetie.. we’ll talk about that later.. now we should get some yummy food in that belly okay..? Do you think you can get up..?” Yunho replied then asked.

Your head was still pounding and as much as you wanted to try, you knew its best to just stay, so you softly shook your head.

“Okay I’ll tell hyung, come Yunho you still need to eat.” Wooyoung then said as he retreated back to the kitchen.

Yunho didn’t really have an appetite after seeing how sick you were and he wanted nothing more than to just stay and make sure you’re okay. However he knows his boyfriends and even you will scold him if he doesn’t eat. So with that he gave you a soft kiss on the forehead and got up to go eat.

“I’ll be right back okay..? Jongie and Sangie will be right here.. Eat well darling.” He said to you before leaving.

You could only nod back before looking back at your boyfriends.

“When did you guys get home..?” You asked

“Yunho hyung and San hyung got home first and found you.. told us and then I, Wooyoung hyung and Seonghwa hyung quickly got home after that. They just finished cooking your soup.” Jongho explained.

“Hmm I just got home, and I’m pretty sure Mingi and Hongjoong hyung will be home any minute.” Yeosang added.

You then hummed before Seonghwa and San came into the room carrying a tray of a big bowl of soup and some of your favorite tea.

“Hi our darling..” Seonghwa greets you as San puts down the tray in your lap softly.

You weakly smiled at them and began to open your mouth to greet them however Yeosang cut you off.

“Shhh.. don’t talk to much pumpkin.. your voice sounds so hoarse… your throat must be very scratchy and painful hmm..?”

With a soft sigh you nodded.

“Okay then.. lets get some food in you okay? Can I feed you?” San asked

You made some gestures indicating that you could do it yourself however they weren’t having it.

“Let us take care of you. You’re extremely sick okay? Your pouting game will not work tonight honey.” Jongho said

Of course you were outnumbered so you just sighed and opened your mouth to let San feed you as the rest began preparing your medicine.

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

Once your bowl of soup was almost empty, the front door was opened and the footsteps of the last two can be heard. Said two as quickly as they entered the house, quickly entered your room guilt, concern and sadness evident in their faces.

“Oh princess…” Mingi said as he walked closer

“Baby.. oh you finished your food, good girl. Medicine?” Hongjoong praised then asked with a pet to your head.

“Right here.” Seonghwa said as he gave you the medicine to drink.

Wordlessly you took the medicine and drank some of your tea.

“Okay.. good… How are you feeling now darling?” Hongjoong asks.

“..better..” you said as softly as you could so you wouldn’t harm your throat even more.

“Thats great love..” Mingi said.

Soon the last two that were missing from your bedroom entered again and were pleased to see you finished your food as well. Now all of your boyfriends were here and sitting somewhere in your bedroom.

“Sweetheart..” Seonghwa started as he sat beside you holding your hand. “Why didn’t you tell us you weren’t feeling so well..? You’re so sick.. this must’ve been going on for a while… and none of us had a clue?”

You took a deep breath before carefully replying, being mindful of your throat. “We were so busy… I.. didn’t want to distract you… a-and I thought It’d get better on its own..”

“You still should’ve told us princess.. you know we would’ve taken some time off to help you get better… and you should’ve taken time off yourself.” Yunho chimed in.

“I didn’t think you could afford to spare some time… and my job needed me..” You pouted looking down playing with seonghwa’s fingers.

“Darling… you hurt us… do you not know we’d stop time for you if we could? You know we literally would do anything for you… We 100% would’ve figured out a way to make sure our work still gets done and be able to take care of you… like we always do. I’m sure you know that..” Mingi said.

You looked up at him to see nothing but sincerity in his eyes. As you looked around, you see sincerity in all their eyes.

“I do… I just.. I don’t know… I just really didn’t want to be a bother. I don’t want you guys to be more stressed than you already are and if I caused you guys to fall behind th-“ You were cut off by Wooyoung shushing you.

“Nope. No. You would never be the reason for that. We would never blame you and you know we would reprimand anyone who thinks that. Sweetheart. You’re our precious girlfriend… you would never be a bother to us.” Wooyoung said full of reassurance.

“Baby… We understand. You wanted us to do well and you were worried for us and wouldn’t want to add more stress or something. However like everyone here has said. You’re no burden. No trouble. And especially no bother. We love you and want you healthy and happy alright?” Hongjoong said as he stroked your hair.

You all looked at them and softly nodded. Heart filled with love and you give them a smile that they find so precious.

“Alright. Now please promise us you’ll tell us if you’re sick? Even if it’s just the tiniest cough or sneeze, you’ll still let us know? And yes we’ll promise to do the same.” Seonghwa asked.

“Promise. Now all of you cuddle me to sleep please?” You said with a pout and arms out.

Everyone then let out a soft chuckle and nodded.

With that, they got to work to cleaning up your dishes as San scooped you up and carried you to the master bedroom where that room is specifically for big cuddle sessions. and other stuff 👀

San tucked you in as he got in beside you. Soon enough loud footsteps can be heard as a couple of them (Wooyoung, Yunho, Mingi and Seonghwa) were racing to be on the other side of you. Which ended up going to Jongho as he slipped in while the others were still fighting by the door.

Eventually all of them got into a comfortable position.

“I love you all so much.” You mumbled softly into the darkness.

“We love you too our love.” Mingi said softly.

“Get some rest.” Said Yeosang.

“Tomorrow we’ll make you an even better soup!” Wooyoung then exclaimed loudly.

“Sleeeeppp!” Jongho groaned.

With that you all kinda giggled with each other a little bit longer than you would like. Making sleep not as easy but you all really wouldn’t have it any other way.

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

644 notes · View notes

seokgyuu · 7 months ago

Text

After your flawless job-interview, Seokmin hires you as the newest addition to his company. Just that, once you start, it seems like you’re not who you previously portrayed to be. Instead, he finds himself faced with mini-skirts, push-up bras and gawking co-workers, not to mention your absolute lack of work ethic. Obviously, he needs to fire you! Just that, when he tries to… you simply don’t let him.

Pairing: Boss!Seokmin x Employee!F!Reader

Genre: Porn with the smallest bits of plot, workplace “romance”, Smut MDNI!

Warnings: Morally gray characters, Seokmin is obviously reader’s boss and shouldn’t be fucking her, power imbalance, reader gets objectified a lot, but she enjoys it, reader is… acting very dumb (on purpose), Smut warnings under the cut!

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: Hi everyone!! welcome to this little work of… filth! Making my return with a Seokmin fic just felt right (also I just could not stop thinking about this). Please let me know what you think with a reply or a reblog, it would mean the world to me!! also a big thanks to @shadowkoo for making this AMAZING banner and to @bitchlessdino for beta-ing!!

tagging: @okiedokrie, @inkchwe, @shinysobi, @gyuhanniescarat, @haologram, @beomcoups @wongyuseokie, @the-boy-meets-evil, @multi-kpop-fanfics (just some of my fellow dk enjoyers)

Smut Warnings: oral (m receiving), face fucking, praise (good girl, etc.), degradation (whore, etc.), unprotected sex, titjob, breeding, usage of the word “Sir” in a sexual context, tell me if i missed anything!

His phone rings. The Harry Potter title music is playing, letting him know it’s his sister calling. He can’t pick up, or well, no, he can, considering his hands are free, but he probably shouldn’t.

Having talks with his employees about having to let them go is Seokmin’s least favorite thing about being the boss. He never wants anyone to feel like they weren’t good enough or couldn’t live up to any expectations, but sometimes… sometimes it was inevitable.

Like with you.

When you had first walked into your interview, you impressed him with your sharp tongue and your witty humor. Your resume looked perfect for the job, and your previous experience was exactly what he needed. He hired you the following week and deemed his decision a good one - until you showed up for your first day.

See, before anything else, Seokmin is simply just a man. A man with eyes and needs and desires.

The mini skirt barely covered your backside, showed off your legs and those perfect thighs you had hidden from sight before. Your dress shirt would have been fine for the office if only it wasn’t… half open. Or at least open enough to see your breasts almost falling out of your push-up bra.

He knew back then that he should say something. Tell you that this wasn’t appropriate to wear to work. But he didn’t. For the same reason, his mostly male staff began coming into work more punctually, more eagerly and stayed for even longer hours.

It was a mistake, he thinks now, not to say anything to you on your first day. Or any other day after that.

A mistake or the single best decision he had ever made.

Truth be told, he’d never called you into his office to discuss his decision to let you go if it was only about the clothes (or lack thereof) you wore to work. No, he was fine with the clothes, more than fine, actually, if you took just one look at the amount of tissues discarded in his office’s trash can.

But… you lacked certain skills he had thought you’d easily have, considering your previous jobs. You struggled doing, in his opinion, the most basic tasks, and more or less let the others do the work for you. The work he paid you to do. Instead, you sat at your desk all day and played Solitaire or scrolled on Instagram.

The two of you almost never interacted, mainly because he was scared to say the wrong thing or stare too long at your breasts he couldn’t stop thinking about anyway. When it did happen that he had to talk to you, it mostly went with him going back to his office with a raging boner and a guilty conscience.

One time, he brought back some prints from the copy room, only to find out you had been the one to print them. When he asked around the room and you were the one to raise your hand and get up from your chair he almost choked on his spit. You made your way over him, your tight dress hugging every single one of your curves, the slit in the side showing off where your stockings began, the neckline down far enough for him to see the lacy material of your bra once again.

“Thank you, Mr. Lee, Sir,” you smiled at him, your fingers touching his when you reached for the pile of papers. He felt like you shot him and as a result, he shot a huge load of cum into one of his tissues when he was back in his office.

Then, he met you at the coffee maker one time, witnessing you eat a fucking banana in one god damned bite. He couldn’t believe his eyes when you basically deepthroated the fruit all while looking directly into his eyes. He popped a boner right then and there.

All in all, it was safe to say the woman he had met in the interview was gone and he had absolutely no clue why or how he had let you fool him that day you met.

A part of him was angry at himself for letting it get this far, but he couldn’t deny that with every glimpse of your exposed ass and tits, with every encounter like the prints or the banana, he decided to give you one last chance to prove yourself. So far he had given you about 151 chances and you’d screwed up all of them.

Which is how he ended up calling you into his office.

Which is how you ended up sitting in front of his desk on one of the comfortable dark red armchairs, your legs crossed, yet another mini-skirt rising up far enough for Seokmin to at least imagine he can smell you. The shirt you were wearing was tight and cropped and your blazer was lazily hung over the back of the armchair.

“So, Y/N,” he began, shifting on his seat and trying very hard not to look at your tits, “do you have any idea why I called you in here?”

You shook your head no.

“No, sir, I don’t. Did I do something wrong?”

Sir. Oh good lord, Seokmin had to swallow down the pathetic moan he feels creeping up his throat.

“Well,” he cleared his throat, “I have noticed that you’ve been handing your work off to Chan a lot. Soonyoung as well, and while I understand you’re the newest employee, you have been here for almost five months now, Y/N, and I did expect you to already, you know, do at least a certain amount of work by yourself.”

Your eyes widened the more he spoke, your pout prominent once he finished.

“I’m sorry, Sir, truly! They always offered to help me and I just- I just didn’t want to disappoint them,” your voice strained, almost sounding like you were about to start crying. Seokmin felt his heart speed up.

“I understand that. But still - it must make sense to you that-,”

You jumping up from your chair made him stop mid sentence. He watched how you stalked over to him, your big eyes staring him down with something he couldn’t pinpoint even if he tried.

“It does make sense, Sir, and I want to apologize. I can do better, please don’t fire me.”

Seokmin was frozen in his chair, his seated figure looking up at you, almost panicking when he realized how close you were. If he raised his hand now, he could touch your thigh, could let it slip higher, could-

“Please, Mr. Lee, I’d do anything to keep this job.”

Which is how we get to… now.

His phone is still ringing on the desk, but he’s still nowhere near answering it. He is too focused on your mouth around his rock-hard cock, on the way you look up at him with watery eyes, on the way your hand is fondling his aching balls.

You dropping to your knees might have been the single most hottest thing he has ever seen before. Or well, maybe this right now tops it. Your tongue is flat against his shaft, dragging it along his veins, licking up all the precum that doesn’t directly land in your mouth. You suck on his tip, tease his slit, and moan when you take him all the way.

And Seokmin? He thinks he might have just entered heaven. His hands are itching to touch you, to push you down and fuck up, to lose control, but he doesn’t. Instead, he watches you with his mouth dropped, with his heart going at triple speed in his chest.

This is wrong. So, so wrong! He shouldn’t let you suck his cock as a way to keep your job, for god’s sake!

Once his tip crashes against the back of your throat, his mind goes blank, and all the thoughts from before disappear. They make room for new thoughts instead, thoughts that finally allow him to do what he wanted to from the second you had walked in on your first day.

The groan he lets out causes you to drip into your panties. And the way his hands now find the back of your head almost makes you come. Your eyes roll back for a second, before you bring them back to look at your boss.

Your extremely hot, perfect boss who took so fucking long to bring you into his office. Who could not take a hint at-fucking-all.

He begins to thrust up into your throat, letting out moans you wish you could record and replay as many times as you wished. His cock is big, just as big as you had hoped it to be. He’s veiny and perfect and his angry red tip is going to become your favorite thing to suck on. He tastes salty and sweet and bitter at the same time, melts on your tongue, and gets you to clench around absolutely nothing.

“Fuck,” he cries out when he picks up his speed, nails digging into your scalp as he continues his hard and fast thrusts, his cock beginning to twitch, his balls tightening dangerously. You need him, want him and almost demand him to come down your throat. To give you everything he has to offer. You press your tongue harder against his shaft, cheeks hollowed out, and you can feel his orgasm nearing with every passing second.

“I’m gonna- fu-fuck, I’m gonna c-come!” His cry is almost taking you over the edge too.

Seokmin sees red and white at the same time, opens his eyes, and stares down at you with his pupils blown and his cock finally emptying his seed inside your awaiting mouth. It almost breaks him, seeing how you swallow all of his cum like a pro, never breaking eye contact.

Breathless, Seokmin slowly gets down from his high, watching how you lick up his cock, your eyes twinkling with mischief, giving his tip a small kiss before finally leaning back, batting your eyelashes.

“So tasty, Mr. Lee. Now, should I get back to work?”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It kind of becomes a thing. At the beginning, Seokmin calls you into his office and you suck his cock, make him come, go back to work. All while still wearing your skimpy outfits to work and doing the minimum requirements to not be a complete waste of Seokmin’s money. Even though he figures with a cold shiver running down his spine, it seems like he’s paying you for something totally different now.

You’re enjoying this to the fullest, having a right out blast. Not just because you get to have Seokmin fuck your throat every other day, no, but because of how he looks at you. When you met him that first day at the interview, you already knew you wanted him. Knew he was going to be your next little project. So far you had never failed, and you sure as hell weren’t going to start now.

Working at the company for five months hadn’t exactly been your plan, though. Five months until he finally called you into his office. Five months of you choosing the most outrageous outfits, knowing every single man in that office wanted a taste of you, but only wanting one of them to actually act on it.

“Holy fucking hell, yeah, just- just like that,” he’s leaning against the wall behind his desk, you back on your knees, his cock hitting the soft inside of your cheek over and over again. He’s holding onto your hair with one hand while the other is pressed against the wall next to him. You lick and suck and fuck his cock against your cheek, drool running down your chin. You’re painfully wet, throbbing, and needing him to finally put his cock in you.

By now (3 weeks after your little blowjob-job started) you know his tells, can sense when he’s about to come. So, when you hear that first little noise, you let go of his cock with a plop and get up. Seokmin’s eyes open and he looks at you, visibly confused.

“Wha-,” he begins, but you just take a step forward and crush your lips against his, your hands grabbing his face.

For the first few seconds, Seokmin doesn’t really grasp the situation. You’re kissing him. He begins to melt, his hands somehow finding their way to your waist and when you lead him back, suddenly seated on his desk, his mind goes blank. You want him to fuck you. Want his cock to go inside that probably sweet tasting pussy of yours. He moans into your mouth.

“Take me, Mr. Lee, please, need your cock in me, need you to fuck me,” you whisper into his ear, biting his earlobe after and sighing in relief when he immediately moves to get your panties off of you.

“Fuck, fuck, you’re so hot.” He kisses you again, wild and uncontrolled, your panties now landing on the floor. You part your legs and grab his cock, bringing it to your awaiting entrance. There is no stopping the moan that escapes you once his tip slips in, your teeth sinking into his bottom lip harshly. He licks over your teeth, feels his mind fog up, no thoughts just you, you, you.

Then, he’s fully inside of you. Twitches, groans, kisses you harder. And fucks you like a god-damned beast.

The pace he sets is brutal and you’re lucky it’s after hours so no one is at the office anymore. They for sure would have heard the way the desk is bouncing against the floor with every thrust as well as your high pitched moans, and Seokmin’s low growls.

He fucks you like he owns you and you live for it. His cock drags along your walls, fills you like he was made for you, hits your sweet spot over and over again as if he’d done this thousand times before.

“Fuck, yes!” You basically scream, your body falling backward, only his strong hands holding you up as he speeds up once more.

“God, shit, how are you so tight, baby?” He moves to kiss your neck, licks over the salty skin, revels in your taste, in the way you shiver under his touch. You wanna scream and cry and mark his body with your mouth and nails - and so you begin to pull on the hem of his shirt, which he gladly helps you to take off completely.

He’s built like a god. Wide shoulders, bulked up arms, abs like they were painted on. You let your nails drag over his torso, finally sliding them to his strong, muscular back. When he pushes into you even more, his lips not getting enough of your own, you dig into his flesh and hear him hiss. Still, he doesn’t stop. If anything, he goes even harder. Fucks you til you scream his name while experiencing the most intense orgasm of your life, milking his cock of all he had, cum filling your pussy to the brim.

After that it spirals.

He fucks you every chance he gets. He is addicted to you and your pussy. Whenever he needs you, he gets to have you.

He bends you over his desk during work hours, drilling into your pussy like a mad man while pressing his hand over your mouth to make sure no one notices. He comes inside you and stuffs it all back in there with his fingers, pulls your panties back up and sends you out to continue your work day as before.

When lunch time comes around, you meet him in the building’s cafeteria and he drags you to the nearest supply closet to fuck your mouth and then your cunt, telling you what a good little slut you are and how well you always take him.

He sends you pictures of his hard cock after work, begging you to come to his place and bounce on him - but you never do. It’s a game for both of you. No fucking outside of work, no dates or anything like that. He gets to keep fucking you and you get to keep your job - easy as that.

Just that… you’re not really bad at your job. Seokmin is slow to figure that one out, you realize.

When your seventh month at the company begins, he is so focused on getting his cock inside of you, he doesn’t even notice you’ve stopped handing off your assignments to your colleagues. You’ve actually grown quite fond of this job and the team - and Seokmin for that matter. Not that you want to admit that to him, or confess that you’ve been playing this part of the dumb girl with the slutty outfits simply to get his attention.

“I love when you get to the office with no panties on, gods, you’re a dirty little whore.” Seokmin’s hands are on your ass while you bounce on his cock. He’s sitting on his desk chair, admiring the view of your tits as you fuck yourself on his cock. His dirty words make your pussy flutter around him and you whimper, your hands braced on his shoulders.

“Mhmm, only a whore for you, Mr. Lee,” you moan, biting down on your lip. There is no chance you’ll ever grow tired of seeing the way he looks at you when you fuck. His hooded eyes, his red lips dropped open. His cheeks flushed and his hair a mess.

You enjoy being on top, enjoy watching him watch you, setting your own pace until he can’t hold back any longer and wraps his arm around your waist, pushing you down so he can fuck into you at his desired speed.

“That’s right, you’re my whore, your pussy belongs only to me.” He squeezes your ass cheeks and moans when you clench around him again, thrusting his hips up once. You can tell he’s about to lose control, about to hold you down and fuck you senseless. There is nothing quite as hot as Seokmin losing his composure.

Just two days ago, you teased him by being flirty with Soonyoung all day. Seokmin had not thought of himself as possessive, but somehow when it came to you…

Safe to say, he fucked you against his office door two minutes after your last encounter with Soonyoung, simply shoving up your skirt and ripping off your panties, his cock deeply buried inside of you the next second. He fucked you so hard you couldn’t properly walk even the day after.

“Yes, Mr. Lee, my pussy belongs to you, I am yours, Sir.”

You bounce on his cock quicker now, throwing your head back when his hands move to your breasts, taking them both into his hands and cradling them. His fingers press onto your nipples, squeezing them between his thumb and forefinger, pinching and teasing you. With every touch of his, you feel yourself nearing your high.

“You’re so beautiful, always so good for me, isn’t that right?” He breathes out, licking his lips as his eyes are glued to the way your tits look between his hands.

He fucked them a few days ago, your tits. Had you kneeling between his legs, squeezing them together as he fucked his cock between them with the lube he now stored in his bottom drawer. They had felt amazing around him, but nothing compared to your cunt, to its warmth, to its tightness.

“Oh- oh! I’m- I’m gonna come, Mr. Lee! Please, can I come?!” Your orgasm is so close, is ready to crash down on you and when Seokmin moaned out a yes, you let it happen. Waves and waves of pleasure erupt in your body and make you fall forward against his chest, his hips now beginning to thrust up, his moans turning more and more desperate.

“Good girl, such a good girl, fuck- I’m gonna fill you up, yeah? Fill you up with my cum, breed you like my own personal whore, hm?”

Your nails dig into his skin desperately as he fucks you fast and hard, his right arm now around your waist, pressing you down while he uses you for his pleasure, crying out your name when he comes - white hot cum landing inside your spent pussy, painting it the colours of his affection for you.

Seokmin fucks both of you through your orgasms, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, kissing your lips passionately when his hips still. You kiss him back, arms wrapping around his neck, your high still present in your bones.

“You’re perfect,” Seokmin mumbles against your lips and you smile, kissing him again, fingers brushing through his hair.

For a while, you make-out just like that, him still safely buried inside of you, some bits of your combined releases dripping down onto his chair.

Only when Seokmin’s phone rings do the two of you part. You give his cheek a small kiss before climbing off his lap and looking for your underwear, all while you put your dress back into its place. Your boss watches you, wishes he could just do this all over again instead of answering his phone. Reluctantly, he takes the call and watches how you wave at him, panties back on and clothes and shoes back where they belong. He waves back, greeting the business partner on the other line.

And when you leave his office and close the door behind you, when none of your co-workers even pay you any mind, you realize that maybe you like to keep it this way for just a little while longer.

799 notes · View notes

tsublue · 10 months ago

Text

Asteroid Aura in Astrology (1488)

What does the asteroid represent?

The name of the asteroid can be much of an explanation. It’s the energy you may give off to other people and what their first impressions of you could be.

Please do not take astrology as something you “have to act” like or blaming problems on placements. Astrology is a tool of self discovery and development.

Please do not copy, rewrite, repost etc posts. If needed to reference or use parts always contact the autor and always give credit.

Aries - 1, 13, 25 deg

At the first impression you can come off as someone competitive, feisty and passionate. You can also seem to people as someone really outgoing and fearless.

Taurus - 2, 14, 26 deg

At the first impression you can come off as someone a bit untouchable and expensive, yet really clean. You have a caring aura and seem to be dependable to people and that may leave you with lots of responsibility.

Gemini - 3, 15, 27 deg

At the first impression you come off as pretty sociable and someone with a big social circle and knows what they’re doing. You come off as flowy and can offer an helping hand anytime, especially to new people in a social environment.

Cancer - 4, 16, 28 deg

At the first impression you’ll have a really calm presence and can look as if you’re really relaxed with your inner world and are comfortable with what you are or have and don’t need to prove anything. You do incredible work and are basically all an employer can ask for and more. Your warmth can really make people around you comfortable.

Leo - 5, 17, 29 deg

You come off as someone with a wide imaginative world who has incredible ideas and is ready to share them immediately and has a good voice to do so. You get things going as time pleases and have an amazing work persona with a strong inner world. Closed off people can be thrown off by it at first, but you’ll prove yourself and others.

Virgo - 6, 18 deg

You come off as you are here to get things done and nothing else much. You have incredible work ethic, but need to plan it out so it won’t be too excess, for your own well being. Everything has to go by your plan and word or it won’t work out. You’ll feel this especially during a deadline or a crisis. People are really appreciative over you even if it’s not physically shown out loud.

Libra - 7, 19 deg

You come off as someone with insanely creative ideas and warm persona. You are good at voicing your ideas and know what to do in order to achieve something, even if you doubt yourself. You have charming nature which can attract people to focus more on you as for inspiration and more. You are most likely first one to get paired up or get a work buddy because people enjoy being around you and you have amazing team work skills.

Scorpio - 8, 20 deg

You may come off as someone a little mysterious’, but have a really warm persona. You are amazing at taking the word ‘no’ and fixing yourself for the better for the next time. Your presence is powerful which people want to give you respect in order to be liked or tagged along. Little like Kris Jenner if you’d like to take it that way.

Sagittarius - 9, 21 deg

You come off as really friendly and down to earth. You can corporate any idea from others into your work. even if you don’t favor it that much you’re a good sport and know how to handle it. You can be a perfectionist in projects and have an ideal image made out in your head before starting something. Even if you know how to accept the ideas of others, it can sometimes come off as blunt and strange, but everyone knows your heart is in the right place.

Capricorn - 10, 22 deg

You can come off as someone who really knows what they’re doing even if you don’t. You are ready to give an helping hand or a tool anytime anyone asks. Even if your creative world is not always working to the maximum, you’re excited to tag along for any project. Thanks to your amazing thinking, practicalizing & caution skills you’ve really earned a firm spot.

Aquarius - 11, 23 deg

You can come off as someone who really knows how to solve difficult and electronical issues which makes many come to you for problem solving. You have an incredible helping hand. You can come off as distant or not interested in a conversation which is not always true. You love designing things that go out the norm and go outside the box which can bring you success.

Pisces - 12, 24 deg

You can come off as someone who doesn’t really think their ideas through which can make people not always listen to you. You got incredible creative skills that you can incorporate anywhere and everywhere. You have a friendly presence and come off as someone who really gets it which can make many open up to you. You may have an attractive or calming voice which can make people really listen to you.

Yours truly, Tsunami

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angelisverba · 1 year ago

Text

praise

in which y/n notices something isn't quite right with her professor, and harry loves chasing this little bunny

word count: 5.5k

pairing: vamp!h and y/n (but really it's more like professor!h with a side of vampire)

warnings: this fic contains graphic depictions of sex and blood.

author's note: happy late halloween!

When y/n was little, her mother always told her to stay inside on Halloween.

She never got to go trick-o-treating like the other kids because of this, not until she was old enough to pay for her own costume, but by that time it was too late because trick-o-treating turned into bar hopping and candy turned into drinks. She took part in these activities for as long as it took for her to figure out that she didn't like alcohol or big crowds or dressing up.

Also by that time, many of the holidays took place around the time that she was stressing about papers and exams and midterms and other deadlines a college students faces around the end of the semester. She was a dedicated, busy little bee with few friends that knew her enough to know that when she's focused, theres no getting her to come out for anything, so they didn't even extend invites.

Which is why she finds herself inside, at the library, on Halloween night. She has a little ear worm of Linus writing his letter to the great pumpkin running around in her brain, but that's as far as her spooky spirit goes. The rest of it is consumed in her paper about sublime notions of nature in the latest gothic novel assigned by her literature professor, Mr. Styles.

Had it been any other teacher, she wouldn't have lingered so much on grammar, word choice, or reading her paper over and over again so that her ideas were clear and concise, but... but there was something about him. She can't really but her finger on it, but a big part of it is fear. Intimidation. He's so... commanding in the way that he carries himself. Almost menancing, his figure carrying the threat of punishment.

He walked into the lecture hall everyday dressed like a model from a vintage academia magazine. Tweed bottoms. Button up shirts. Loafers. Sleek black shoes. A pristine silver watch on his wrist. A golden chain that twinkled on his neck and disappeared into the collars of his shirts like a shooting star. Slicked back chocolate brown hair from which a single curl sometimes escaped and swayed on his forehead like the hooked tail of a monkey. Tailored pants that accentuated the litheness of his hips perfectly so, making her wonder if he had them altered to fit him exactly. A badge on a simple, black attachment pinned on his hip spelled his name underneath a coyly smirking ID picture of his face; Harry Styles.

So y/n had a little crush.

A silly little bundle of love-misted roses perched in her heart with a ribbon and a name tag that had her English professor’s name on it.

She tried to tell herself that it was a school girl’s crush (it literally was), but it was hard to keep her daydreams cemented underneath the rounded realm of reality when her heart kept reading into every single little interaction she had with him, knowing that all her fantasies would only ever exist in her dreams because he was an employee. He was older than her. He would never be interested in a girl, a student, like her. His serious disposition did nothing to quell her.

In fact, it almost egged her on. The perfectionist in her wanted to be perfect for him, so be praised by him for her hard work. She wanted so badly to be his teacher's pet that it reflected in her work ethic. Every paper she turned in was better than her last, she paid rapt attention in class, took the most intricate care in her notes. She always looked her best on the days she had his class- black ballet flats with black skirts, frilly socks, cardigans and collared blouses- ever the neat student. She's every professor's wet dream, she knows this.

Yet, the approval and validation that she craved. No, needed. The validation she needed from him was never given to her, no matter how hard she worked. The notes on her paper were always asking for more, she could do better, she could be more clear, she wasn't quite*getting it. And he always left a note that she should see him in his office hours.

But she couldn't.

Y/n was sure that she would spontaneously combust is she was in an enclosed one-on-one space with him. Which was funny because many of the female students fought for that time with him. One time she heard a few girls in her class say that they tried to call him by his first name and he told them that "it was Professor Styles or Sir to them". Just listening to it second hand was enough to have her squirming. The though it, to have his striking green eyes on only her, his gravely, accented voice directed at her. It was an intoxicating though.

She could imagine it.

He would sit on the other side of his desk in that suave way of his, ankle crossed at his knee, one hand resting on the arm of his chair while the other props his chin up as his finger taps against his sharp cheekbone. He would watch her with an unwavering, predatory gaze, like he's waiting for her to make a mistake to step in and correct her. Y/n would sit in the seat across from him, her hands under her thighs to keep from fidgeting, her lips wet with her spit from how much she'd chew on them, her eyes unfocused and struggling to keep contact with him. The silence in the room would probably be filled with her 'umm's and 'like'. She'd be so nervous, and he would see right through her, and all her hard work would be diminished to nothing.

And then she would probably cry and Professor Styles doesn't really look like the type to console his students, so y/n would just embarrass herself.

So she settles for putting her all into her work, tweaking what he's made notes on from previous papers, and hoping that it's enough, that one of these days she'll she exclamation points at the end of praise instead of at the end of 'explain this'.

With a weepy, overwhelmed sigh, y/n rubbed her fists into her eyes and ran words over and over again in her head. She was the last one in the library, the light from the lamp at her desk was the only source of illumination in her little study corner. This late into the semester the school didn't close libraries, opting to not get in the way of students and their work. It was nearing midnight, and she was getting tired, but this paper was due in two days and she wanted at least one to edit it.

A little delirious from lack of sleep and anger from how difficult this was all turning out to be, y/n blinked back tears. She was a little cold and she was hungry. But she was not going to leave until this paper was finished.

She would however close her eyes, just for a little while. Y/n put her head down on the desk, telling herself that she would only rest her eyes for a few minutes, that she was not going to fall asleep.

But like every college student that snoozes their alarm twenty million times because they're just going to rest their eyes for a few more minutes, she falls asleep.

She startles awake in the dark at the sound of a chair scraping against the floor.

When she jerks upright, Professor Styles is sitting across from her, reading her paper.

***

Harry is so fucking hungry, and he's looking for a snack. Maybe even a meal if he can get away with it.

He hasn't fed in nearly a month, and normally even two weeks is pushing it. But it was the month of October, and as the holidays neared and the parties increased, so did security and people's guard. It was extra hard to find a bite now, not the kind he liked.

Sweet, pure, and innocent. Untainted flavor.

A few days ago he managed to snag a few blood bags from the campus' blood drive center, but it wasn't enough. He craved the puncture, the warmth of a body in his arms, the fresh throb of a pulse underneath his tongue. He wanted the erotic writhing of struggle and submission against his body. Many of his kind didn't share their fondness for this part, but he loved taking care of them afterwards. Making sure they were okay, steady. Sated in the same ways he was. Being a vampire came with the ability of glamour, a bit of mind influencing, so that he was able to make the situation a little more favorable on his end.

He had decided to go for a stroll, having been caught up late in his office grading papers, when he caught a hint of something sweet and familiar in the night air.

It reminded him of one his students, y/n.

She always sat in the middle of the third row with perfect posture, listened to his lectures as if he was God. Her eyes would get mooney, and if he listened hard enough (which to him wasn't really that hard because he was a vampire, he had super human hearing) he could hear her heart beat faster in the seconds that his eyes held contact with her as he talked, delicate and quick like the wings of a hummingbird. Everything she turned in was perfect. She was smart but not pretentious in her way of writing, and something about the way she wrote reminded him about the tender inside of a wrist. Her wrist.

But Harry was mean, and he liked to tease, and he could tell that y/n was waiting. She was sitting on a precipice, hanging on to his very word, her body strung taught and stressed. She was waiting on him. He was going to make her wait until he did as he asked. He wanted one on one time with her, and until then, he wouldn't give her what she wanted.

Whether she realized it or not, she was teasing him, too. In ways that y/n probably wasn't even aware of. The way she bit her lips so they were bright with her blood right underneath the surface, the promise of her heat with every exaggerated sigh she let out as she walked out of his lecture hall. Her clothes, god they killed him.

She wore these black kitten heels once, and they drove him crazy.

Now, he knows his place as Professor, and he didn't just get this job to fuck around. He enjoyed teaching and knowing secretly that he knew first had about the things he was talking about. He loved seeing how his life was absorbed by the younger faces (not that he looked old, he would forever appear to be 23). He respected others, their will, their purpose, and only went as far as his moral compass would let him to take care of his needs.

But he was a man, and he could be brought to his knees by a pretty thing like y/n.

Harry remembers that day, how his trousers were uncomfortable and he had to spend the whole time behind his podium. How he needed to slyly inch a calculating hand to the ever-growing uncomfortable center of his groin and tug the snug fabric away from their vacuum-sealed hold on his hips. It was maddening for him, but uncomfortable for her (he thinks). She never wore them again, and he suspects they may have hurt her delicate feet if the way she kept shifting was anything to go by.

Not that he noticed.

Harry most definitely did not notice that the tip of her toes kept tittering tenderly up and around in slow, hypnotizing circles, meant to relieve pent up tension. He most definitely did not notice that the way her frilly white socks kept sliding down the slope of her ankle with every movement. Or the tantalizing trekk of her delicate fingers against the curve of her thigh, behind her knee, and a little further where the pads of her lucky fingers dug into the soft, aching- he assumed- flesh of her calves. He didn’t fucking hold his breath and become stiller than a statue to try and to hear the sweet, breathy sighs of relief that left her parted lips. No, he did not. That would be a violation of the contract he signed upon assuming his position. It would be betraying the trust of the snarky, reluctant, port-belly head of academics that judged his ambiguous resume with reluctance.

Of course he didn’t. And he wasn’t the slightest bit disappointed that he never saw them again.

This student of his had captured his attention this semester, almost distracting him. Her smell, from what he knows the few times he caught a whiff of it amongst all the others, was sweet, yet not overwhelmingly so. It was mellowed out and warm, and the closest thing he could compare it to from the food he had as a human, was apple pie. She was warm, sweet, honeyed, with the zest of cinnamon.

He wanted to taste her so fucking badly.

Harry doesn't know if it's because he's so hungry that he's smelling her now.

Trailing after the scent with his nose leading the way like a drooling dog, he wonders- no, he knows that he won't be able to fight the urge to taste her if it's really her he finds at the end of the line.

It gets stronger in the library, but from the looks of it, it's dark and empty. From the looks of it, but Harry knows better. He can hear better and smells better, and he knows she's in here. The swift intake of her breath rings in the silence, his ears picking up on the only human sound in the buildings. The near-silent whines that sit at the base of her throat and die before they exit through her nose.

Her hearbeat.

Calm. Steady. Alive.

It sounds like a drum, low and pounding and it thrills him.

He wants to hear it beat faster and faster, like a bunny when it's being chased. He wants to hear the even paced breaths become rapid and disorganized with heightened emotion.

He can smell her, too, the delightful aroma making his fangs itch and his loins ache. Walking further into the library, the stacks of books growing dense with sharp corners and cozy study nooks, he can trace the direct path she took to her spot- the table in the corner with the lamp still on. She has her head resting on her arms, hair haphazardly strewn across the wooden table and some papers, a pencil between her fingers still.

She probably set her head down after saying she was only gong to rest her eyes. She's probably been here for a really long time, he can hear her stomach growling. Shaking his head in disbelief, he pulls the chair back with a motion that's sure to wake her up at the same time that he pinches the paper with two fingers and begins to read.

Waking with a little gasp, y/n straightened. He could pinpoint the exact moment she became fully cognizant of what was happening because her heartbeat picked up in a way that concerned him, and she became utterly still. From the corner of his eye (Harry was reading her paper, a really good paper, and hadn't looked at her. Not even once) he could see her mouth open and close a few times, words escaping her. Y/n rolled the pencil between hands that had begin to perspire and began to chew on her bottom lip.

Internally, Harry groaned. He needed to get her to stop doing that because he was imagining things that no person is his position of power needed to be imagining and his cock was fattening against his thigh. He was hungry in more ways than one for her. A part of him wanted to mark her up like he was a dog and she was his chew toy, licking and sucking and biting on the sweetest parts of her to suckle on her blood; everywhere. The other wanted to do all of those things, and not just for her blood.

He had to get her to speak.

The paper that he held in his hands was probably the best that he was going to get from her class, or maybe all of them put together. The ideas were fresh with just the perfect amount of information from his lectured tossed in for a response to the prompt on the book they were currently discussing. But he had to keep playing his game with her, he had to see her fold like a ragdoll. He wasn't going to tell her what he truly thought about it, how it was so good, how she was such a good student, how she made him so proud. How she was a good girl.

Instead he put the paper down in front of her, crossed his arms and spread his legs in the chair to give his swollen dick some room and said, "you should go home. Have a meal. Go to sleep.”

At this her shoulders sagged, and it was like watching dominoes fall against each other to release different triggers, Her lips crumpled, her chin wobbled, and her eyes blinked away a sea of crystalline tears.

Y/n stared at him, a wet look that punched his gut at the same time that it made his gums salivate and his hips itch to thrust up against the desk like a thing in heat. He looked back at her, his head tipping slowly to the side to track her gaze as it dropped. Like a predatory, he observed her with the kind of stillness that promised a charge of action. That promised death in the maw of a killer.

Her mouth did that thing where it opened and closed again, sounds that came before actual words coming out of her, but never intelligible sentences. Her heart was racing, but her lungs were doing a weird thing. Like they weren't getting enough oxygen.

"Why don't you take a deep breath , hmm? And we can talk about what's going on here," he got up from his chair and stood at the side of his desk, arms crossed and feet spread shoulder width apart, formidable. If she looked closely enough, she would be able to see a thick bulge at his crotch.

But she didn't have a reason to look. He wasn't adjusting himself. He didn't even look like it bothered him.

In fact, he looked almost... mad.

Y/n looked at him straight in the eyes, and her's went doe-like, everything in her stilling like the fawn-like creature in the way of an oncoming vehicle.

Everything, including her breathing.

He wasn't going to have her passed out before all the fun began. Needing to get a grip on her, he took a few heavy steps foward, and pinched her chin between his thumb and forefinger, the other hand tucking into his pocket to actually adjust himself this time because it was starting to get uncomfortable.

Tilting her face up and closer to him, he bent forward so that their noses were barely touching. Her warm breath huffed against his nose, and he had to fight the urge to roll his eyes into the back of his head.

"Breathe, y/n. You can do it," peering down at her with his jack slightly slack and his eyes at half mast, he imitated inhaling deeply, and she mimicked his motions. Her lungs expanded, and her heart slowed slightly. "That's it, darling. Again."

She gulped and her hands squeezed the fabric of the plaid tennis skirt she was wearing, bringing the hem up slightly so the thinner skin on the inside of her thighs gleamed at Harry.

Then he smelled it, and this time he didn't fight the shiver that ran through him. She was wetHis eyes closed, and a groan rolled deep in his chest. His body tensed and relaxed at the same time, like a transformation.

And when he opened his eyes, he was a different version of himself.

One that didn't give a fuck that he was a professor and she was his student.

This version only had one goal in mind: to consume her in every way he could until y/n went limp in his arms.

"Now what's the matter, little bunny?"

***

Y/n didn't know what was happening, only that something had... changed.

She might have been a quivering mess for him, but she felt the shift in him. The edge to him. The gleam in his eye. She had seen his body shiver at the same time she felt her pussy clench at his words. That's it, darling. Again. Little bunny.

He was encouraging her, not far off from what she wanted to hear from him. It stroked her muddled brain and made her feel fuzzy all over. Some of what he was saying was very inappropriate. But she could care less.

“W-what?” she mumbled, confused. She blinked so that a few tears ran down her face, and she couldn't even feel embarrassed about it.

“Y’heard me loud and clear, darling. Don’t make me repeat myself," her professor tutted.

"i'm sorry, sir. It's just that... I need to work on my paper." And she mumbled something afterwards. Low enough that he wouldn't have been able hear if he was a human. But he wasn't. That didn't mean he couldn't play with her.

"Speak up, y/n. Good girls don't mumble." His tongue was like a lashing, a reprimand, and she felt the scolding everywhere.

"It needs to be better for you, sir." Gulping, she rubbed her thighs together and shuffled in her seat. Y/n was finally one-on-one with him, and she thought she knew what it would feel like.

She was wrong.

Everything was sensitive. Hot. Cold. She was twitchy and there was this squirrley, jumpy feeling inside her. She wanted to run away like a little mouse, but she also wanted to be warmed in his hands. By his words. She wanted to hear the praise come from him so that she could stop feeling so desperate.

Y/n got like this sometimes. Whiny. Insatiable. But no one ever knew how to handle her, when to realize that she was finally full. So she was always... hungry. Like something inside her needed to be stuffed. Abused a little, maybe. She wanted to be handled and then petted. Fucked and kissed and then held. She wanted to be good.

And being like this with him, in a position that made it seem like that was possible, y/n thrummed.

Humming in realization, he stroked his knuckles down the side of her face in a caress, "and what makes you think it isn't already good?"

She leaned into his touch without realizing it, nuzzling into his hand. All she had to do now was purr. Y/n shut her eyes before speaking, "Y-you... you never-"

"Open your eyes and look at me when you're speaking, bunny." Again, the stern, scolding tone. This time it made her flinch and whimper. Her hips rocked in the chair, and he tracked the movement like a leopard in the trees ready to pounce. Y/n knew that he saw, and her face bloomed with heat.

In a breathy, chocked string of words, "you never leave nice notes on my papers, sir. All the others do, but there never any on mine and I just thought... that I n-needed to work harder to be b-better."

She shuffled again in her seat, and her professor's eyes pinched. His had trailed down to her throat, and he squeezed to hold her still.

“Stop squirming, y/n. You want to be better? Stop fucking squirming," and he released her with a small pulse at the base of her neck. He could feel his teeth bulging under his upper lip, the thrum of her life under his fingers enticing him further. Every bit of reason was escaping him. He was going to lose control. Decades of practice, of edging on months of hunger, were nothing to her allure.

He stepped back at the same time that he realized they weren't close enough.

"Stand up," he told her. He watched as she pushed the chair back and stood on wobbly knees, her gaze still searching for recognition that he had heard what she had said, that he had read between the lines and realized what she needed. "Sit on the edge of the table, facing me so we can speak properly."

When she was seated and her hands began to fiddle in her lap, he stepped close enough that her knees were almost touching his hips. And she couldn't miss it this time. The thick length of him, hard against his hip.

"S-sir?" she prompted meekly.

"You want me to leave nice notes on your papers, y/n?" He asked, settling his hands on either side of her and haunching over her so they were nose-to-nose. She could smell him, strong masculine scents of vintage leather and tobacco and bergamot.

Nodding eagerly like a dog, "mhm. Yes, sir."

"Then why didn't you come see me like I asked on every single one of those papers? You didn't listen to me, so why should I reward you?" He mouthed the words against her skin, trailing them down her jaw to her throat where he teased the skin with the tip of his nose.

The area around her neck felt scorching hot, his lips trailing searingly against her. She couldn't hide how desperate she was anymore. She arched, her body was taught, fighting the urge to wriggle because she couldn't decide if she wanted to get away from him or have more of him, and she needed to be good. He had told her to stop squirming.

"I'm sorry, Professor."

Y/n closed her eyes and tentatively braced herself against him. Trembling hands settled on his arms, thick with deceptive muscle. She could feel the strength hiding beneath the surface, tense like a snake preparing to strike. A strong hand settled at her waist, clamping like iron, and another on cupped her jaw tenderly. It was a dichotomy of treatment. Rough and tender at the same time.

"You were a bad girl, y/n."

Then she felt it, a sharp sting where her throat met her shoulder, where Harry was biting her, and licking her, and suckling at her all at the same time. A mixture of a squeal and a moan jumped out of her, and she dug her fingers into his arms, frozen. Whatever he was doing to her hurt. But it hurt in a good way. A way that made her ache with that need to be filled.

She cried out, "I'm sorry, sir." A wet apology that bared how anguished she was.

His hot tongue flattened against her, and she she vibrated in the place where he left his heavy pant, "are you going to be good for me, bunny?"

"Yes, sir. I wanna be good, please," her head was bobbing in that earnest way again, but with his head in the crook of her neck he could only feel the movement against his hair.

He suckled a little more at bite that was already beginning to close, kissing it tenderly, "gonna be my good little bunny?"

Y/n was huffing, not even bothering to hide that she was horny, “please, p-please- I need-”

“Tell me exactly what you need. C'mon, you can do it,” he coaxed her. The hand at her hip molded the flesh there, pulling her closer to him so she was sitting just at the edge, and her knees were pressed into his dick with the lightest pressure. He bucked against her, a slow roll of his groin against her delicate bare knee.

“I need to cum, sir. I need-”

“Don’t-” he pinched her hip roughing, his thick eyebrows furowing in disapproval, “forget your manners, little bunny. Rude darlings don’t get to cum.”

"Please let me cum, Professor," she repeated, eyes glossy but no longer with tears. This was something else. Something needy. Y/n could feel her slick juices seeping through her panties and making the insides of her thighs sticker. The triangle of cloth was sticking to her, and the tight feeling of it against her clit made her want to scream. It was just barely pushing, a teasing sensation that was driving her crazy.

She wanted him to touch her. To rub her swollen clit until she drenched hand in her cum, and then to- to-

"I'm not sure I should, y/n. You didn't listen to me. Didn't come to my office. Instead I had to come find you here. What about me, hmm? What if I need something from you?" Harry leaned back, letting his hands run down so they rested on her knees and his fingers could play with the hem of her skirt.

"Whatever you need, sir. Please." Y/n was beginning to sound a little broken. Her hips struggled to stay planted on the desk and her knuckled turned white from how hard she gripped the edge of the wood. She would much rather touch him, but he was too far away and she didn't want to upset him. She stared at him, silently pleading for his hands to creep up and shove into her panties, to play with her hole.

"Right now I need to eat you, little bunny. Are you going to let me?" He tilted his head at her again, calculating. Waiting, observing.

"Yes!" Y/n shrieked, her thighs trembling.

"Spead these pretty thighs, darling. Let me have a taste," he crooned down at her as she opened up, her skirting riding so he could see her panties, how wet they were, nearly transparent with her arousal. With a deft finger, he pulled the gusset of her panties to the side and dropped to his knees.

Y/n whined at the look on his face. Mouth parted, eyes half-lidded and downturned. He looked hungry. Desperate.

Without warning he leaned forward and covered her with his mouth, his tongue licking her and then dipping into her pussy to collect what had pooled at her opening, his teeth lighting tapping against her clit. He thrusted his tongue into her once, twice, three times, and that was all it took. A gush of wetness coated his tongue, and her tremors pulsed against his lips.

He leaned back and slapped her cunt with an angry growl, and then shoved two fingers into her, fucking her roughly so his fingers got wet with her, "seriously, y/n? Did I give you permission to cum?"

"N-no, sir," as she sat hunched over his kneeling form still twitching, Harry shoved his fingers into his mouth to lick them clean of her, and then stood up, not even bothering to lay her panties right before yanking her to stand.

"Get up. We're going to walk to my rooms. Your'e doing to do so quietly, and when we get there, you're going to take your punishment like a good girl, do you understand me?" With a single finger pointed at her, y/n understand she was in for it. Her hands flew to pick up her things, showing her papers into her bag and looping it on her shoulder so she was ready to go.

"I understand, Professor"

He took the bag off her shoulder and laid a hand on her lower back, keeping her at his side as he led her out of the library and into the night, "that's better. Come this way. The night is still young, bunny, and we're both in for a treat."

*****

happy halloweenie!! hoped u liked this heehee. missed mr. vamp. lmk ur thoughts!!!

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jungkoode · 2 months ago

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OFF-LABELS | O7

→ PAIRING : Med Student!Hoseok x F!Reader (Brother’s Best Friend AU)

→ RATING: Explicit, 18+.

→ DATE POSTED: February 26th, 2025.

→ SUMMARY: You’ve spent four years convincing yourself that your brother’s best friend is just being nice when he remembers your coffee order, quizzes you on neuroanatomy, or lets his touch linger a second too long. Because there’s no way that the golden boy of Seoul National’s medical program might actually be flirting with you. Especially when he keeps saying things that could be perfectly innocent… if only he didn’t say them in that voice.

→ TAGS: second person perspective, female reader, medical school au, brother’s best friend trope, age gap (4 years), pining, touch starved, overthinking reader, confident hoseok, gentle dom hoseok, medical terminology as flirting (lmao), study sessions, domestic moments, innocent (but not really), plausible deniability king hoseok, anxiety, internal monologue, guilty crushes, subtle teasing, emotional edging, gentle manipulation, praise kink undertones, intellectual attraction, competency kink, hand fixation, voice kink, medical intern hoseok, first year med student reader, home setting, casual intimacy, unresolved sexual tension (for now), secret attraction, nervous rambling, self-doubt, intrusive thoughts, anatomy lessons with ulterior motives, competent hoseok, flustered reader, close proximity, accidental touches that aren’t accidents, virgin!reader.

→ CONTENT in this chapter: House calls that go wrong, sweater weather complications, unexpected revelations that change everything, surgical precision used for mending more than just socks, and the kind of silence that speaks volumes. | emotional tension, domestic setting, power dynamics, moral crisis, medical ethics, complex relationships, emotional warfare, guilt and desire, medical authority questioned, professional boundaries, casual clothes, internal conflict, communication breakdown, ethical dilemmas, misunderstandings.

→ MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQ | WORDCOUNT: 3,9k

→ MINI SERIES: PREVIOUS | NEXT

→ A/N: Okay, so FINALLY posting the drama chapter!! Before you dive in, I need to make something very, very, very (did I say very?) clear about what's happening here. This chapter is absolutely NOT about virginity or some gross purity kink. Like, I would literally projectile vomit if anyone suggested I was writing that kind of male-gaze "untouched flower" bullshit. We are not in Stephen King territory here, describing "pale creamy mommy tits" or whatever horrifying descriptors men think are sexy. 🤢 The actual issue is about psychological dynamics and consent. Throughout these chapters, Hoseok has been enjoying this cat-and-mouse game where Y/N is clearly attracted to him but constantly second-guessing herself. He's been deliberately keeping her in this state of "is he into me or am I imagining it?" because he gets off on her uncertainty. He likes the plausible deniability! He likes watching her squirm! The PROBLEM hits when he realizes she's a virgin, which makes his brain connect some horrifying dots: if she's never been with anyone before, she doesn't understand the psychological game they're playing. She's not pretending to be confused as part of the dynamic—she genuinely doesn't know what's happening. His visceral reaction isn't "oh no, she's pure and innocent!" It's "oh fuck, I've been psychologically conditioning someone who didn't even know they were being manipulated." He thought they were engaged in mutual psychological edging, but now he realizes he's just been breaking her down without her even knowing there was a game being played. And let me clarify something important—when I say "conditioning" or when Hoseok feels like he's been "grooming" her, this is NOT actual grooming in the predatory sense. These are two consenting adults (Y/N is 23ish? Hoseok is 27/28ish?) who have known each other for years (she's had a crush on him for FOUR years, and he's been playing this game for about two). She's in her first year of med school, he's a first-year resident. I've calculated these ages very specifically to keep everything firmly in legal, consensual adult territory. The issue isn’t the age gap—it’s him realizing she wasn't psychologically equipped to understand the mind game they were playing. He thought she was a willing participant in a psychological dynamic, but now he's realizing she was just genuinely confused and uncertain because she lacks the experience to recognize what was happening. THAT'S why he's disgusted with himself. Not because he doesn't want to be her first (he absolutely does), but because he thinks he's been essentially manipulating someone who wasn't a willing participant in the power dynamic. Anyway, rant over! Enjoy the angst! 😈

PLAYLIST

You’re standing on Hoseok’s doorstep.

Hoseok’s doorstep.

Like, his actual apartment. The place where he lives and sleeps and—

(No. Don’t think about that.)

Your fingers twist anxiously in the hem of your sweater as you stare up at the building. It’s ridiculous. Floor-to-ceiling windows, a private balcony, a lobby that smells like wealth and white oak. This isn’t some cramped resident’s crash pad—it’s the kind of place reserved for surgeons who drive luxury cars, not first-years who live off caffeine and whatever snacks they can steal from the nurses’ station.

It doesn’t make sense.

But then again, nothing about Hoseok ever does.

Your phone screen still glows with the text he sent this morning, casual as anything, like this is normal. Like this is something you do—just show up at his penthouse on a Thursday afternoon. You’d spent twenty minutes drafting excuses, each one more pathetic than the last, until your brother had mentioned it over breakfast:

“Oh yeah, Hoseok said you’re helping him organize his research papers today?”

Your toast had frozen halfway to your mouth. “He… what?”

“For his residency portfolio,” Caleb had said, not even looking up from his phone. “Said he needs a fresh pair of eyes on it.”

The lie was perfect. Believable. Academic.

(Of course it was. Everything about Hoseok is perfect.)

“Right,” you’d managed weakly. “That’s… that’s why.”

“Want me to drop you off? I’m heading that way anyway.”

And that’s how you ended up here—heart thundering against your ribs as you raise your hand to knock. Before your knuckles can touch the door, it swings open.

Your breath catches.

Because this—this isn't hospital Hoseok or teaching Hoseok or even party Hoseok. This is... home Hoseok.

He's wearing soft gray sweatpants that hang low on his hips and a white t-shirt that's clearly been washed too many times, the fabric thin enough that you can almost see the definition underneath. His feet are bare against the hardwood floor, and his hair is slightly messy like he's been running his fingers through it.

It's so domestic it makes your knees weak.

"Come on in." His voice is warm honey, dripping slow and sweet down your spine as he steps aside. The movement makes his shirt ride up slightly, exposing a strip of skin above his waistband that you definitely don't stare at.

(You stare at it.)

Your legs feel like jelly as you step past him into the apartment. His scent is everywhere here—that clean, citrusy smell that haunts your dreams, but stronger now, mixed with something warmer. More intimate.

The door clicks shut behind you with a soft finality that makes your pulse skip.

You're in Hoseok's house.

Alone.

With him.

On a Thursday.

Oh god.

"Shoes off," he instructs gently, and you comply automatically, toeing off your sneakers next to his neatly arranged row of footwear. The sight of your beat-up Converse next to his expensive dress shoes makes something flutter in your stomach.

"This way." His hand settles at the small of your back, guiding you down a hallway lined with framed medical certificates. The touch is light—barely there—but it burns through your sweater like a brand.

You follow him in silence, heart thundering against your ribs as he leads you deeper into his home. Everything is exactly how you imagined it would be: minimalist but warm, all clean lines and rich woods and subtle touches of luxury. A doctor's house. A successful man's house.

(A house where your brother's best friend is about to—)

"Nervous?" His voice cuts through your spiraling thoughts, tinged with something that might be amusement.

"No," you lie immediately, the word coming out too fast, too high.

His laugh is soft and knowing as he stops in front of a closed door. "Liar."

Before you can defend yourself, he's opening the door, and—

Oh god.

It's his study.

Of course it's his study.

The room is everything you'd expect: floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, a massive mahogany desk, leather chairs that probably cost more than your tuition. Late afternoon sunlight streams through tall windows, casting golden shadows across polished surfaces.

But all you can focus on is the way he's looking at you—head tilted slightly, expression gentle but hungry.

Hungry.

"After you," he murmurs, and the words drip like honey down your spine.

You sink into one of the leather chairs, the expensive material creaking softly beneath you. Hoseok settles into the chair beside yours, close enough that his knee almost brushes yours. Almost. The near-contact raises goosebumps across your skin.

"Notes," he says simply, voice steady and professional like this is just another study session. Like you're not alone in his house, surrounded by his scent, drowning in memories of his fingers and his voice and his—

"Right." You reach for your backpack with trembling hands, but the strap slips through your fingers like water. Before it can hit the floor, Hoseok catches it smoothly, his reflexes quick and precise.

(Of course they're precise. He's a surgeon. Those hands are trained for precision.)

"Chip." His voice is gentle—too gentle—as he steadies the bag in your lap. "You're trembling."

Your face burns as his fingers brush against yours, lingering just a second too long. "What's up?"

Everything. Everything is up. You're in his house. Alone. And all you can think about is the way his thumb had pressed against your tongue in the anatomy lab, how his fingers had curled inside you while your brother's party continued downstairs, how badly you want him to—

"Nothing," you manage, voice tight and unconvincing.

He hums—that low, knowing sound he always makes and somehow feels menacing—and suddenly his hand is gripping the edge of your chair. Before you can process what's happening, he's pulling you closer with one fluid movement, the chair sliding across hardwood like you weigh nothing at all.

Your breath catches sharply at the display of casual strength.

Because fuck—how can someone be this effortlessly powerful? This casually devastating?

Does he even realize what he's doing to you, or is this just how he is?

Just Hoseok being Hoseok, completely unaware of how every little thing he does makes you want to crawl into his lap and—

"Nothing?" he repeats softly, and now his knee is definitely touching yours, the heat of him burning through your jeans. "You sure about that?"

No. You're not sure about anything anymore, except maybe the way your heart is trying to escape your chest and the fact that you're probably going to die right here in this expensive leather chair, killed by proximity and the ghost of his fingers on your skin.

His gaze lingers on your trembling hands, head tilting the way it does during patient evaluations—assessing, calculating.

“Your motor coordination's deteriorated since Saturday," he muses, leaning back in his chair with deceptive nonchalance. "We should address that first."

You open your mouth to protest, but he's already spreading his legs, the movement slow and deliberate. His sweatpants strain slightly over his thighs as he nods toward the newly created space between them.

"Come here."

The command is velvet-soft, phrased like a suggestion but weighted like an order. Your heart stutters as his fingers drum once—twice—against his left thigh. A silent countdown.

"W-why?" The question comes out breathless, already defeated.

His smile could sanitize an OR. "Ergonomic alignment. You can't properly present your research if your hands won't stop shaking." He gestures to his lap like he's explaining a textbook diagram. "Center of gravity adjustment. Basic kinesiology, Chip."

Your feet move before your brain catches up, drawn by the gravitational pull of his casual authority.

The first brush of your knees against his inner thighs sends electric currents up your spine. He doesn't help you, doesn't touch you—just watches with that infuriatingly patient smile as you awkwardly try to straddle the chair.

"Proper support requires full contact," he chides gently when you hover uncertainly above him.

His hands finally land on your hips, guiding you down until every inch of you molds against him. The heat of his chest seeps through your sweater, his heartbeat thudding steady against your racing one.

"There. Better?"

You nod mutely, hands braced against his shoulders. His t-shirt rides up slightly under your fingers, exposing the warm skin of his collarbone.

"Good." His thumbs dig into the divots of your hips—clinical pressure points that somehow feel indecent. "Now, synaptic transmission." His breath fans across your lips as he reaches past you, grabbing your notebook. "Start with glutamate receptors."

The pages blur as he flips to your highlighted section. His forearm brushes your breast—accidentally?—as he holds the notes up between you.

“Focus, Chip. Unless..." His head tilts, smile sharpening. "...you need tactile reinforcement?"

His knee shifts upward beneath you, applying deliberate pressure where you're already embarrassingly warm. A gasp escapes before you can stop it, fingers digging into his shoulders.

"Ah." His tongue clicks in mock disapproval. "Seems we've identified the distraction." The hand not holding your notes slides up your spine, pressing you closer until his lips graze your ear. "Shall we... desensitize the stimulus?"

His lips find the frantic pulse beneath your ear first—a calculated strike at your carotid artery that makes you sigh.

“Elevated heart rate," he murmurs against damp skin, teeth grazing the spot he'd marked days ago. "Persistent symptom since..." A suckling kiss that pulls a whimper from your throat. "...Thursday's assessment."

Your fingers twist in his worn tee as he works downward, each open-mouthed kiss along your jugular notch methodical. Clinical. Cruel.

"H-Hoseok—"

"Shh." His hand slides up your spine, deft fingers finding your sweater's zipper. "Need to auscultate properly." The zipper parts with a predatory hiss, cool air rushing over your heated skin. "No extraneous layers."

The sweater pools at your elbows before he tugs it off completely. Your arms instinctively cross over your chest—a futile shield against his darkening gaze.

"None of that." He catches your wrists, pinning them gently against his shoulders.

His breath stutters when he sees the bra.

Candyfloss pink. Lace scalloped with tiny bows. Straps straining over the swell of breasts he'd mapped through fabric days prior.

His Adam's apple bobs.

“Well." The word comes out rough, sanded down at the edges. "This is..." His thumb brushes a satin bow between your breasts. "...exceptionally thorough preparation."

You squirm under the praise—the implication—but his grip tightens on your hips. "I didn't—"

"Shh." His palm cups your breast through the lace, calluses catching on delicate threads. "Look at these." His thumb circles your nipple, watching it peak. "Like cherries dusted in sugar.”

"Hoseok—"

"Merely observational." His other hand slips beneath the bra's band, blunt nails scraping your ribcage. "Soft here." A squeeze that makes you arch. "Responsive here." His mouth seals over the lace, tongue swirling the dampening fabric. "Sweet here."

Your head falls back with a choked moo, nails biting into his shoulders. He hums approval against your breast, the vibration ricocheting straight to your clit.

"Still trembling," he notes, fingers walking up your spine to unhook the bra. The clasp gives with a snick that sounds obscenely loud. "We should stabilize your core."

His hands slide around to your front, palms flattening over your bare stomach.

“Deep breath in." You obey shakily. "Hold." His thumbs brush the undersides of your breasts. "Now exhale."

You deflate against him, breasts pressing into his chest. His groan rumbles through you. "There. Better."

His lips find yours in the space between breaths—not a kiss but a shared exhalation.

“Tell me you planned this," he demands against your mouth.

"Planned wh—"

His hips roll up, the thick line of his cock unmistakable through sweatpants and your thin jeans.

“The bows. The pink." A bite to your lower lip. "This devastating little bralette."

"N-no, I just—"

"Liar." He sucks the word from your lips, hands cradling your face. "You knew." Another grind that steals your breath. "Knew I'd want to ruin you in it."

His teeth close on a strap, dragging it down your shoulder. "Knew I'd need to see..." The other strap follows. "...how pretty you look coming undone in pastels."

The bra falls away. His pupils swallow entire galaxies.

"Fuck." The curse is reverence and ruin as he palms your bare breasts. "Should've known you'd weaponize cuteness."

Your retort dies when he lifts you slightly, mouth latching onto a nipple. The suction is brutal—claiming, corrective—as his free hand slides between you.

"Let's see..." His fingers find the button of your jeans. "...if your panties match."

His fingers still for a second as a wicked smile curves against your breast.

“Coordinated sets suggest..." The button pops free. "...premeditation."

You can't deny it—not when his hand slips into your jeans to find matching pink lace waiting.

His laugh ghosts across your damp nipple. “Knew it."

"I didn't—" Your protest breaks on a gasp as his thumb traces the scalloped edge. "It's just—"

"Just happened to wear a complete set?" His teeth graze your collarbone. "Just happened to pick the exact shade that makes me want to..." He tugs your jeans lower, exposing more pink lace. "...devour you?"

Your face burns as his fingers map the delicate fabric.

"Look at these." He hooks a finger under a tiny bow at your hip. "Like sugar spun into thread." His other hand cups your breast again, thumb flicking your peaked nipple.

"Stop—" you whimper, but his palm slides lower, cupping you through damp lace.

"Why?" His smile is gentle poison. "When you clearly dressed for this?" His middle finger traces your slit through the fabric. "When you're already soaking through all this pretty pink?"

Your hips buck against his hand involuntarily. He tsks softly.

"Such a sweet little thing." His fingers press harder, making you mewl. "All wrapped up like candy." His teeth find your pulse. "Makes me want to unwrapyou. Slowly."

The word drips like honey as his hand slips beneath the lace. "See how many licks..." His fingers part your folds. "...it takes..."

Your forehead drops to his shoulder as two fingers slide home.

"...to get to the center."

You let out a shaky exhale at that.

"Still so wet for me," he murmurs against your lips, two fingers pressing inside with careful precision. "Such a good—"

The rhythm of his movements changes subtly—no longer teasing but exploring. Something shifts in his touch, becoming more methodical. More... investigative.

You feel his breath stutter against your neck, the slight tension suddenly coiling through his body where it's pressed against yours.

His fingers curl slightly, pressing deeper, and you tense involuntarily at the unfamiliar pressure. It's different than when he touched you before—that night in your room when he stood behind your chair, his breath hot against your ear as his fingers worked between your thighs. This angle is deeper, more invasive, and your body responds with a reflexive resistance.

"Easy," he whispers, but the playfulness has evaporated from his voice. His free hand moves to your hip, steadying you as his fingers press more deliberately. "Relax for me."

You try, but your muscles tighten instinctively. The slight resistance—the way your inner walls grip his fingers—makes him go absolutely still.

His fingers withdraw so carefully it makes your chest ache. No teasing now. No slow, deliberate drag of his knuckles over your clothed heat just to watch you shudder. Just… absence.

And when you open your eyes, his face is wrong.

Too still. Too pale. His pupils blown so wide they nearly swallow the brown. His lips part, then shut again, like he’s bitten through his tongue.

The clinical terms evaporate.

"Chip."

His voice is hoarse.

The nickname that always made your stomach flip—always made you feel small, breakable, something for him to toy with—now sounds like a curse.

Like a word he can’t take back.

His thumb brushes your inner thigh, and—fuck, it’s trembling.

"You’ve never…" The sentence trails off, unfinished.

Your face burns as understanding clicks into place. Of course he can tell. Of course he knows. How many bodies has he been inside? How many women has he unraveled with those precise, knowing hands? Of course he can feel the difference.

"Not with—" your voice comes out too high, too thin, "I mean, I've done other things, but—"

"But never..." His gaze flicks down to where his hand still hovers near your thighs, then back to your face.

"I've used my own fingers," you blurt out, mortified but desperate to explain. "And that time in my room, when you—when we—"

"Different angle," he says quietly, almost to himself. "I was behind you. Not as deep."

You nod, humiliation crawling up your spine like ivy. Your thoughts scatter and race. Does it matter? Why should it matter? It's not like you're some precious untouched flower. It's not like you've been saving yourself. It's just—it's just—

(It's just that nobody has ever made you feel like you wanted to let them inside. Until him.)

"I didn't think it mattered," you whisper, the words tangling in your throat. "It's not like I'm—"

"Not like you're what?" His voice has gone dangerously soft.

"Not like I'm waiting for something special or—or saving myself or whatever stupid thing." Your words tumble out faster. "I just... nobody ever made me want to. Until now."

Silence stretches between you, taut as a surgical suture.

"Until me," he repeats, the words hollow. "Your brother's best friend. The one who's been deliberately blurring lines since the moment we met."

His face changes—like something has clicked into place. Like a puzzle snapping into its final, sickening shape.

But his expression. God. You've never seen him look like this. Like he’s about to be sick. Like you're the one who's done something wrong.

"Don't." Your voice is barely a whisper. Your hands fly up to cover your face. "Don’t make it a thing."

"It is a thing."

His voice cracks.

And when you peek through your fingers, he’s staring at your thighs, at the damp lace beneath the unbuttoned denim. And his hands—fuck, his hands—are trembling as they move to adjust your jeans, tugging the fabric back into place like he can undo what’s already been done.

"Christ," he breathes, hands fisting against the desk’s edge. "I’m your brother’s—"

"Don’t." You sit up too fast, nearly headbutting him. "Don’t use Caleb as an excuse when you’re the one who—"

"I know." The raw admission stops you cold. His knuckles blanch where he grips the wood. "I know exactly what I’ve done. What I’m doing."

A short, bitter laugh punches out of him.

"Manipulating your crush." His teeth click as his jaw clenches. "Abusing my position. Fucking my best friend’s sister in my—"

"You’re not fucking me!" The words burst out louder than intended. "You’re—you're teaching me. Showing me. And I want it. I asked for it."

His gaze snaps to yours, dark and devastated.

"You don’t know what you’re asking."

"Does it matter?"

"It fucking matters!" His voice is jagged now, slicing through the space between you. "Because if I’d known—if I’d realized—" His throat works. "Christ. I let you choke on my cock. Made you take the whole thing. And you—" His eyes flick down, to your open legs, to the flush of your skin beneath the denim. "You didn’t think to mention—"

“Say it.” Your voice is razor-sharp. “Go ahead. Diagnose me, Dr. Jung. What’s my prognosis?”

His flinch is barely perceptible.

"You’re actually—" His breath catches. His eyes squeeze shut. "Inexperienced."

The clinical term dangles between you, sterile and ugly.

"So?" You lift your chin, daring him to look at you. "I wanted this. With you."

His inhale is sharp. Like something being ripped out of him. His head tilts, his gaze drags over you—shaky, uncertain, searching. And then—

His face changes.

Like something has clicked into place. Like a puzzle snapping into its final, sickening shape.

"You don't understand what we've been doing." The words come out like they're being dragged from him. "All this time—the teasing, the ambiguity, the doubt—"

"I understand perfectly well," you snap, but he's already shaking his head.

"No. You don't." His voice breaks on the last word. "This whole thing—the way I've been treating you—it's a specific kind of dynamic. A power exchange. A mind game."

He pushes off the desk, runs his hands roughly through his hair.

"I thought you were playing along," he continues, voice rising with each word. "I thought you understood the game—that you were pretending not to know what was happening. That you were letting me seduce you, letting me make you doubt yourself because you liked it."

Your stomach drops as the implications settle.

"But you weren't playing," he says, voice hollow now. "You weren't pretending to be confused. You actually didn't know what was happening."

He staggers back like he’s been struck. One step. Then two. And then—

Oh, God.

He actually retches.

Bends over, a harsh, sick sound ripping from his throat, hands braced on his knees like he might actually vomit right there on the fucking floor.

Your stomach twists violently.

"Hoseok—"

"Don’t."

He doesn’t even lift his head. His shoulders are heaving, and the fingers pressed to his lips are shaking, and fuck, fuck, fuck, what have you done?

Why does it feel like you’re the one who did something wrong?

"You got off on it." Your voice is quieter now. Less rage, more—god, you don’t even know. "You liked making me doubt myself. Pretending this was all in my head. But now that you know I’m actually—"

"That’s the fucking problem!"

His voice breaks.

Loud. Raw. A guttural, vicious thing ripped straight from his chest.

His hands are in his hair, gripping hard. His chest rises, falls—too fast, too sharp, like he can’t catch his breath.

"You were doubting yourself," he grits out. "Actually doubting yourself. You weren’t playing—you weren’t teasing, you weren’t pretending to hesitate—you didn’t know!"

You don’t speak. You can’t.

"You weren’t letting yourself be seduced." His voice drops lower, ragged. "I was conditioning you."

The room tilts.

"You didn’t need coaxing. You weren’t fighting it. You just didn’t know what was happening to you." His eyes are blown wide, almost frantic. "And I liked it."

The breath punches out of your lungs.

"I liked watching you get flustered. I liked seeing you hesitate." His voice is hoarse, unsteady. "I liked watching you struggle to figure out if it was real or in your head."

Something in your stomach plummets.

"But it was never a fucking game for you," he rasps. "You weren’t playing along. You weren’t playing at all."

Silence.

Thick. Suffocating.

His hands drag down his face. His shoulders are still heaving, like his body is rejecting the words even as he says them.

"I wanted—fuck." His fingers tangle in his hair, tugging hard at the roots. "I wanted to ruin you. In pastels, on your knees, pink lace soaked through because I made you like this. I wanted you pliant, desperate—mine—but I never wanted—I thought you knew this type of play—"

His next inhale is sharp.

"But you didn't know the rules at all. Because you've never even played the game before."

His face is ashen now, like all the blood has drained from it.

“Put your clothes on.”

The finality in his voice turns your bones to ice.

And you realize—too late—that the real game is over.

You dress mechanically, fingers trembling on each button. He watches like a surgeon monitoring vitals—detached, analytical.

The car ride is silent.

Your phone buzzes at 2 AM:

𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐤: 𝙻𝚎𝚏𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚌𝚔’𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚙𝚖𝚞𝚗𝚔 𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚡𝚎𝚍. 𝚄𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚐𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝚐𝚕𝚞𝚎.

𝐀𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝: A photo of your sock, neatly mended.

𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐤: 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚃𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚍𝚊𝚢.

You stare at the message until the screen dims.

He’s lying.

He has to be lying.

→ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @cannotalwaysbenight @livingformintyoongi @itstoastsworld @somehowukook @just-reading-dany @sanarin @billy-jeans23 @stuti2904 @chloepiccoliniii @kimnamjoonmiddletoe @annyeongbitch7

no reposts, translations, or adaptations

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writingforstraykids · 10 months ago

Text

Home - Jinnie Bday fic🖤

Pairing: OT8 x gnReader

Word Count: 1711

Summary: In Stray Kids you found a family in ways you would've never imagined. They were your home, your safe place, your everything.

Warnings/Tags: fluff, found family, 9th member

A/N: The happiest birthday to you my sweet Jinnie @jinnie-ret 🖤 I hope you were able to enjoy your day and I wish you only the best for your next year!! Hope you enjoy this little something🖤

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

Your journey to find a family within Stray Kids wasn't an easy one, but it was undoubtedly one of the most rewarding experiences of your life. Each member brought something unique to the table, filling different roles in your life that you didn't even know you needed. From the very first day you met them, it was clear that this group of eight would become your family in ways you'd never imagined.

From the moment you became part of the group, Chan took you under his wing. His warm smile and welcoming demeanor immediately made you feel at ease. He was always there to guide you, whether it was through a tough choreography or just a rough day.

"Y/n, remember, it's not about being perfect. It's about doing your best and growing every day," Chan would often remind you with a reassuring smile.

Chan's presence in your life was akin to that of a protective older brother. He always knew when you were feeling down and needed a pep talk or just someone to listen. His dedication to the group and to you was inspiring, and his belief in your potential pushed you to strive for more.

Minho, with his sharp dance moves and even sharper wit, quickly became someone you could rely on for both comfort and a good laugh. He had a way of teasing you that always made you feel included and part of the group.

"Y/nnie, you call that a dance move? Even my cats can do better," he'd joke, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Despite his teasing, Minho was incredibly caring. He had a knack for knowing when something was wrong and would often check in on you with his unique brand of tough love. His duality of being both a playful friend and a compassionate confidant was something you cherished deeply.

Hyunjin, with his ethereal visuals and artistic flair, quickly became your creative soulmate. Whether it was painting, dancing, or just discussing life, Hyunjin had a way of making everything seem beautiful and meaningful.

“Let's paint the town red tonight, literally," he'd say, handing you a paintbrush with a grin.

Hyunjin's passion for the arts was contagious, and he often encouraged you to explore your creative side. His ability to find beauty in the mundane and his unwavering support helped you see the world through a different lens.

Changbin, with his fierce rapping skills and even fiercer determination, was the motivational coach you never knew you needed. His relentless work ethic and positive attitude were nothing short of inspiring.

“If you want something, you have to fight for it. We'll always support you, but you have to play your part," he'd often say, his eyes filled with intensity.

Changbin's tough love approach pushed you to your limits and helped you break barriers you didn't think were possible. His constant encouragement and belief in your abilities were a source of strength on your toughest days.

Jisung, with his infectious laughter, quickly became the lighthearted joker of your new family. His ability to make you laugh, even on your worst days, was a gift you cherished dearly.

"Y/nnie, Y/nnie, Y/nnie! Why did the-" he would say, bursting into laughter before he could even finish the joke.

Jisung's lighthearted nature and playful spirit brought joy and laughter into your life. His ability to find humor in any situation was a constant reminder not to take life too seriously and to always find reasons to smile.

Felix, with his deep voice and even deeper compassion, was the gentle heart of the group. His kindness and empathy knew no bounds, and he always seemed to know exactly what to say to make you feel better.

"Sometimes all you need is a little bit of patience and loads of cuddles,” Felix would say, his voice soothing and reassuring.

Felix's gentle nature and warm hugs were a constant source of comfort. His ability to listen without judgment and offer genuine support made him someone you could always turn to in times of need.

Seungmin, with his calm demeanor and wise insights, quickly became the voice of reason in your life. His ability to stay grounded and offer practical advice was something you came to rely on.

"It's okay to take a step back and breathe. Not everything has to be perfect," Seungmin would remind you, his voice steady and calm.

Seungmin's level-headedness and rational perspective were invaluable. His guidance helped you navigate the challenges you faced and made you appreciate the importance of balance and patience.

Jeongin, the youngest member of the group, quickly became the little brother you never had. His youthful energy and innocent charm were a breath of fresh air, and his admiration for you was heartwarming.

"Can you show me that dance move again? You're so cool!" he would say, his eyes wide with admiration.

Innie's enthusiasm and eagerness to learn from you made you feel appreciated and valued. His presence was a constant reminder of the joy of discovery and the importance of nurturing those who look up to you.

As time went on, you found yourself growing closer to each member, forming bonds that felt unbreakable. Each one of them brought something unique to your life, filling different roles that together created a sense of family you had always longed for.

One day, after a particularly grueling practice session, you all decided to unwind at the dorm. Chan suggested watching a movie, and everyone quickly agreed. You all settled into the living room, snacks in hand, ready to relax and enjoy each other's company.

"Y/nnie, you get to pick the movie," Chan said, tossing you the remote.

After much deliberation and playful arguing, you settled on a comedy, knowing it would lift everyone's spirits. As the movie played, you found yourself sandwiched between Minho and Jisung, both of whom provided a running commentary that had you in stitches.

"Why is he doing that? That's such a dumb move," Minho remarked, shaking his head.

"Right? I could've written a better script," Jisung added, making you burst into laughter.

Felix and Innie were engrossed in the movie, sharing a blanket and occasionally throwing popcorn at each other. Seungmin and Hyunjin were seated on the floor, discussing the cinematography and artistic elements, while Changbin and Chan were busy trying to outdo each other in a push-up contest during the commercial breaks.

"Y/nnie, care to join us?" Changbin asked with a challenging grin.

You laughed, shaking your head. "I'll leave the push-ups to you two. I'm quite comfortable here."

As the night went on, you felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for these moments. The laughter, the camaraderie, and the simple joy of being together were things you treasured deeply.

Of course, it wasn't always smooth sailing. There were times when tensions ran high, and disagreements were inevitable. But even in those moments, you found strength in your newfound family. One particularly challenging day stood out in your memory.

You were in the studio, working on a new track. The atmosphere was tense, as everyone was feeling the pressure to deliver something exceptional. Voices were raised, and frustrations were palpable.

"I think we should try a different approach," Chan suggested, his tone calm but firm.

You were feeling overwhelmed, and his suggestion felt like another critique. "I don't think that's the problem, Chan," you snapped, immediately regretting your tone.

The room fell silent, and you could feel the weight of your words. Chan took a deep breath, his expression softening. "Let's take a break."

As everyone dispersed, Felix approached you, his expression concerned. "Hey, it's okay to feel frustrated. We're all in this together."

You nodded, tears threatening to spill. "I just want to get it right."

Felix pulled you into a hug, his warmth comforting. "And we will. But we need to take care of ourselves too."

After a few moments, you rejoined the group, ready to try again. Chan's understanding smile and the supportive nods from the others reminded you that no matter how tough things got, you had a family to rely on.

For every challenge, there were also moments of triumph that you celebrated together. The day you released your first successful track as a group was one of the most memorable.

"Y/nnie, we did it!" Jisung exclaimed, pulling you into a jubilant hug.

The energy in the room was electric, as everyone danced and celebrated the hard-earned success. Min and Hyunjin were already planning a celebratory dinner, while Changbin and Innie were busy taking selfies to capture the moment.

"Group photo, everyone!" Seungmin called, setting up the camera.

As you all huddled together, arms around each other, you felt a profound sense of belonging. The smiles, the laughter, and the sheer joy in that moment were a testament to the bond you shared.

Looking back, you realized that finding your family in Stray Kids was a journey filled with highs and lows, laughter and tears. Each member brought something unique to your life, creating a sense of belonging that was irreplaceable.

Chan's protective nature and unwavering support made you feel safe and valued. Minho's teasing and tough love reminded you of the importance of balance and perspective. Hyunjin's artistic soul and passion for beauty inspired you to see the world through a different lens.

Changbin's motivational drive and fierce determination pushed you to achieve more than you ever thought possible. Jisung's lighthearted jokes and playful spirit brought joy and laughter into your life. Felix's gentle heart and deep compassion provided comfort and understanding.

Seungmin's calm demeanor and wise insights offered guidance and clarity, while Innie's youthful energy and admiration reminded you of the joy of discovery and growth.

In Stray Kids, you found not just friends, but a family that supported and uplifted you in ways you never imagined. The bond you shared with each member was a testament to the power of love, understanding, and unity.

As you looked around at your new family, you realized that you were exactly where you were meant to be. Together, you faced challenges, celebrated successes, and created memories that would last a lifetime. In Stray Kids, you found your home, your family, and your place in the world.

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist (Please let me know if you want to be added to or removed from the taglist):

@atinyniki @galaxycatdrawz @silverstarburst @aaa-sia @lilmisssona @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @rebecca-johnson-28 @lixie-phoria @kibs-and-bits @xxstrayland @ihrtlix @pheonixfire777 @mellhwang @palindrome969 @michelle4eve @harshaaaaa @rylea08 @heeyboooo @manuosorioh @gisaerlleri @andassortedkpop @lailac13 @bbokari711 @kazuuuaaa @rssamj @wolfyychan @stellasays45 @chrizzztopherbang @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @silentreadersthings @myforevermelody143 @sapphirewaves @dis-trict9

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fbfh · 5 months ago

Text

Curiosity is a Wonderful thing ch. 12

wc: 2.6k

genre: slow burn, little angst, childhood best friends to lovers

pairing: slow burn bff!ben x fem daughter of alice!reader, mal x ben (allegedly), reader flirting with Jay for strategic reasons

warnings: sort of kind of dubcon ish only bc reader uses a truth serum on someone but it's contextually ethical and nothing shady happens, made up wonderland plants by yours truly, reader shakes them feminine wiles to get info in a very sfw way

summary: you brew a special blend of tea with the sole purpose of spilling tea with a friend of Mal's.

song recs: what baking can do - waitress OBC, power and control - marina, something bad - wicked obc

a/n: your outfit (it's the same one as ch11), also HI I MISSED YALL. things have been CONSTANTLY happening and good news is I'm finally on the right dose of adderall so I was able to knock out the last part of this chapter in like 20 minutes or smth lol. ily all and if I missed you in the tag list just hoot n holler at me in the tags!!

also candorcorn root is a made up plant that makes people tell the truth, and neutrestnuts are a made up wonderland chestnut that neutralize things

tags @yesv01@magcon7280 @hopefullhearts @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sunshineangel-reads @dustyinkpages @inejsknifes @tulipmagnoliaisme @ev3ningrain @yokolesbianism @ma1dita @casey1-2007 @roseidol @eaterof-concrete @enhacatalog @inejghafawifesblog @jjmaybankisawesome @leovergurl @formulas-bitch @starsdotalk @tulipmagnoliaisme @inejsknifes @ficslutt @bwormie @urmomlikeslinotoo @jazhandzzz

Your mind is reeling as you go over the elements of the strategy before you again and again. You have the candorcorn root - from the right side of the plant, of course - in a small pouch. You carry it into the school kitchens, gather the rest of your ingredients, and lay them out in a meticulous sort of mise en place. You let out a long puff of air out of your pursed lips, staying in a deep focus as you begin to do something you’ve done a thousand times before.

Brew a pot of tea.

You brew the candorcorn root into a strong concentrate, so strong it makes your eyes water. You set it aside to boil down as you settle on what the body of this beverage will be composed of. Candorcorn root is known for having a strong, bitter taste - sometimes with a sweet aftertaste depending on the truth that’s revealed, but you’re not counting on a particularly sweet truth under the current circumstances.

To hide some of the earthy bite, you begin making your own blend of different dried herbs, spices, and tea leaves. You start with a base of English dinner - it’s much too late in the evening for English breakfast, even in tea form - then carefully whisk in a little bit of matcha. Once that’s steeping and nicely blended together, you muddle in a few fresh cranberries. You add in a healthy dose of your favorite Port Royal vanilla to lighten the flavor profile and minimize suspicion.

Feeling mischievous, you add in a few mint leaves to the mix. After it brews together, you waft the steam into your nose. It smells… irresistible. Your mouth waters, and you scribble down the recipe on a napkin to make again later - sans the candorcorn root concentrate, of course. You check your pocket watch, and the time for action is growing nearer and nearer. You bite the crook of your finger in consideration.

Your mother always used to tell you, the way to a man’s stomach is through his heart, and the way to his heart is through his chest cavity. You suppose it would be a rather good, sensible decision to have a backup plan of sorts. As bizarre as it is to think, you are aware that not everyone drinks tea - especially not as often as you do. You hum and rock on your heels anxiously, eyes darting around the kitchen as the self imposed deadline you’ve set marches coldly closer.

“Wait,” you murmur, freezing as you get an idea.

You begin digging through the kitchens as quickly as you can, looking for a few things. If you can get them together, you won’t need to worry about ensuring the specialty tea is consumed in full. You rifle through cupboards and pantry shelves, gathering chocolate spread, a large box of fluffy, cake-like cookies, hot chocolate powder, and a small jar of currents. You look around some more, huffing in irritated frustration at the lack of proper tea biscuits in the kitchen.

Your disappointment is short lived, however, when you remember the large supply of tea biscuits you always carry around with you for just this sort of emergency. You reach into your teapot bag and pull out your sewing kit, then proceed to swiftly open it up and dump out all the biscuits it contains. Your sewing supplies is kept in a biscuit tin, of course, otherwise you’d get them all mixed up and find yourself hemming your trousers with snickerdoodles. A preposterous idea, of course, everyone knows that biscotti are best for mending trousers.

The last crumbs fall and you’re brought back to the task at hand. Or rather, at foot, since that’s where the rest of the crumbs land when you stuff the empty tin back into your bag. You let out a shaky but determined breath, and begin to get to work as swiftly as you can manage. You falter once more, realizing that gloves are most likely in order here. You can only find your backup gloves, white and silky with a little pearl in the center of each wrist, but you suppose they’ll have to do.

It’s with a surgical sort of precision that you begin, soaking the biscuits in the candorcorn root concentrate just long enough to get soft around the edges. You lay out each biscuit meticulously, then slather them in a layer of chocolate spread and thick whipped cream. You repeat the process again and again until you’ve a little stack before you.

Once satisfied with the deceptive desert before you, you top it off with more chocolate spread and a heavy dusting of powdered cocoa mix, sure that the sugary chocolate will balance out the earthy, bitter taste of the candorcorn root. You garnish the top with a few strategically placed dried currants, spelling out eat me along the top.

You remove your gloves, careful not to get any candorcorn root on your bare hands, then make up another little pastry. The second one, however, is free of any Wonderland serums or juices, and instead is garnished with a few comfits from the container you keep with you - a habit you’d picked up from your mother.

You next prepare a perfect cup of your brew, then a second containing your secret ingredient. Gloves, of course, are worn during that second step. Your cup is garnished with a piece of fig, the other with a cherry stuck along the rim of the tea cup, bleeding down onto the side. You place everything onto a silver tray, as tenderly as if you were in the middle of diffusing a bomb, and exit the kitchen with it in your only slightly trembling hands.

You let out a steadying breath as you ascend the stairs in the great hall, making the turn towards the boys dorms. Stopping at an open window, you let out a whistle, signaling to a waiting bluebird that you’re ready, and to send word to your companions for the evening. You walk down the hall as silently as a ghost, only stopping when you hear rowdy yelling coming from behind a particular door. Your heart pounds in your chest, and after a few thrumming pulses, a large cat pads up to you, accompanied by a doormouse.

“Alright,” you breathe solemnly, “it’s now or ever.”

The doormouse skitters up to the knob, slipping into the lock and popping it open with a click. It slides down and scurries to safety, and you do the same, moving a few feet away and hiding in an alcove. The cat, brave and noble, slowly enters the room via the now ajar door. It only takes a few moments for the chaos to ensue.

The silent, still hallway is filled with a riot of barking and yowling as the cat speeds out of the room like a bolt out of blue. She’s followed, of course, by Duke; and Duke is naturally followed by Carlos. They all shout and skitter down the hall, around the stairs, and deeper into the school until they’re out of earshot. You steady yourself, wait a moment, then poke your head into the room, now only occupied by one person.

Jay.

“Couldn’t sleep?” You ask coyly from the doorway, blinking up at him. Jay seems surprised to see you, and answers around button mashing his way through the level he’s playing.

“Uh,” He replies, distracted as he continues to look at the screen. “Yeah.”

He lets out a long string of curses as he takes a nasty hit, hemorrhaging hp when he’s nearly done with the level. There’s still a chance, and he continues to fixate on the screen.

Perfect, you think.

Using your foot, you gently nudge the door closed with a click. You reach behind you, flicking the lock closed, and walk forward.

“I hope I’m not interrupting your winning streak,” you say with a cute smile, deliberately stroking his ego. “I just couldn’t wait until morning to tell you what an amazing job you’ve been doing at tourney.”

That gets his attention. Some of it, at least.

“Oh, word?” He asks, smirking as he glaces away from the screen a little more. You nod, humming sweetly in response. You keep your eyes trained on him while you reach into your bag and slip on your gloves. You pick up his tiramisu and slink over to his bed, breaking off a moist, chocolaty bite with a fork.

“Your athletic performance was… nothing short of inspiring.” You say slowly, bringing up the fork to his lips. “I bake when inspired.”

He chuckles, getting that cocky, flirtatious look on his face. He opens his mouth to reply with something you could only assume would be cockier than a spaniel, and in that moment, he presents the perfect opportunity for you to ensure he eats the first bite of your special pastry. He startles a little, then hums in approval at the enticing taste. You hand him the plate and offer him the cherry garnished tea, then remove your gloves, careful not to cross contaminate your dishes from his.

“This is really good,” Jay says, and you smile more slyly than a Cheshire cat. “So,” you begin, dragging your fingertips across his wrist when he accepts the beverage from you, “tell me.”

You lean in like you’re utterly fascinated by him, like you can’t wait a moment more to learn all there is to know about him.

“How is it that someone as…” you trail off with a breathy sigh. “Rugged… as you is still flying solo, as it were?”

You take a sip from your cup, gaze locked onto his, scrutinizing each quirk of his brow and twitch of his smirk, searching for anything he might reveal beyond his words.

“Well,” he starts, puffing his chest and acting all cool and nonchalant. “You know, playing the field is a full time job.”

“Both of them.” You hum. He looks at you blankly. You shake your head.

“Nevermind.” You murmur. You can feel yourself growing antsy. You’re not sure how long your dear cat friend will keep Dude and Carlos distracted, and Jay’s had enough candorcorn root syrup to testify in front of a parliament of owls. It’s time to cut through the detritus and root around until you find what you’re really here for. You set down your teacup, leaning forward.

“Dating must be so hard coming from somewhere like the Isle.”

He starts to answer, but you don’t pay much mind, continuing your train of thought.

“It’s just… if someone as enticing as you hasn’t been locked down yet, how is it that Mal managed to get a prince like Ben wrapped around her finger so quickly?”

Jay puffs out his chest, laughing at your flattery and taking another bite of the tiramisu.

“Well, I’m not really at liberty to say,” he starts, leaning casually and flexing his arms as he stretches. “But let’s just say Mal really worked her magic on him, you know?”

He laughs, and your stomach sinks. You have to remind yourself to manually laugh along with him.

“Really,” you tease, leaning closer. “And what sort of magic would that be?”

“Oh, you know Mal and her freaky mind control thing.” He chuckles, wiggling his fingers in front of his eyes to mimic when hers glow.

“But when you’re out on the tourney field…”

He continues boasting about his sportic success, but your mind is entirely elsewhere. Mind control. Of course. You wonder how you didn’t realize it sooner. Mind control, the same trance Mal’s mother used to lure Aurora up to the spinning wheel. Your heart starts thudding painfully in your chest as your mind races, grappling with the ramifications of what this could mean, the danger Ben and all of Auradon could be in.

You stand up quickly, reaching into your tea pot bag and pulling out a few neutrestnuts you’d snagged from your last trip to Wonderland. You smack one loudly against Jay’s bedpost, cracking it open in one swift movement. Before he can ask what you’re doing - or even realize you’ve stopped listening to his ramblings about tourney - you’ve pushed the nut inside his mouth.

“There we go,” you say, watching him to ensure he eats it. “There’s your after dinner nut. They’re all the rage in Wonderland.”

It’s a lie, but not one he needs to worry about. You gather up the remaining tiramisu and tea cups, leaving his dorm quickly. The neutrestnut should take effect and neutralize the honesty that comes from consuming candorcorn root, so Jay will be back to rights quite soon and be none the wiser.

You wrack your mind as you try to figure out where you can learn more about dark fairy magic. Not much is known about it, and what is known is heavily debated by both magic experts and members of the fairy community. You pause, remembering something, something that sits just on the tip of your tongue. The Museum of Cultural History has Maleficent’s staff on display. Maybe there’s some information there, something too specific for the usual library catalogs.

You check the time on your pocket watch and see the little hand is pointed to the words Hurry On Now Hurry Girl, The Doors Of Wisdom Are Nearly Closed!

Realizing the time pressure cooker of a pickle in which you find yourself, you take off like a bolt of midnight blue, rushing across campus to get to the museum on time. You’re sure you can persuade the guard to let you stay late, being from the Wonderland Embassy and all. When Alice Liddle of Wonderland is your mother, people tend to go along with any strange or unusual requests you make.

You reach the museum just in the nicknack of time, catching the guard’s eye just as he’s about to lock up. After a rush and babble of explanations, he concedes, letting you in with a concerned nod. You’re not quite sure he’s following what you’re saying, but you’re in, which is really all you’re troubled with at that moment.

“Oh- uh, I suppose so, Miss Liddel.” The guard agrees. “Just make sure to check in with me before you leave.”

“Thank you so much-” you glance down at his name tag. “Neil. Truly, thank you.”

He nods, accepting your gratitude. Before you can leave, he chuckles lightly.

“Doing some studying for parents day?” He asks with a smile.

The archive is in your sight, but you stop in your tracks.

Parents day.

In the tizzy you’d been swept into you had totally forgotten parents day. Will you have enough time to prepare? You must. There’s really no way around it. Maybe if you can work quickly enough, you’ll be able to get back to your dorm soon enough to get everything ready by morning. You turn to Neil with a smile you hope comes off as sincere and not panicked.

“Precisely.”

You enter the archive quickly, rushing through titles in hopes of spotting one that reads To Miss Liddel, Within Contains the Answer to All Your Troubles. Just like you’d expected, and unlike you had hoped, that particular book appears to be nowhere in sight. You don’t lose hope, though. You find a treasure trove of old, dusty, complicated books that each contain a little breadcrumb of what you’re looking for.

You just hope you can gather enough to form a loaf before daybreak.

#curiosity is a wonderful thing #curiosity #descendants #descendants x reader #ben florian #ben florian x reader #daughter of alice #daughter of alice!reader #alice liddell #liddel!reader #OH MOTHER FUCKIN BOY this one was on the shorter side bc of a lot going on in my personal life lol #but guess what's about to hit the fan??? all kinds of shit!!!!!#dare I say enjoy things while they're calm #I'm sure that's not very comforting /j #but yeah I hope yall like it #<333 #and as always thank you for being patient /gen <33333 #smooches you on your little forehead

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ambrosialdesire · 11 months ago

Text

hedonic

18+ DARK CONTENT BELOW, MINORS + BLANK BLOGS DNI

pairing: laios x fem!monster reader word count: 5k warnings + tags: general yandere and/or dark themes, kinda gory descriptions, cannibalistic ideas/thoughts/temptations, probably ooc laios, delusional ideas, monster reader w/ large breasts (i mean, it comes with the kind of monster she is tbh but this is the only physical descriptor of the reader), brief bodily mutilation + removal mention, breast milk consumption, accidental peeping (?), breast fixation, blood kink kinda, biting mention, all characters are 18+ synopsis: he's always been the type with an insatiable appetite when it comes to any monsters, but he promised to never ever eat any demi-humans when it comes down to it. the temptation when it comes to you has became irresistible to try and ignore. a/n: in request of 🌷 anon and my fueled want for laios, i have made my first dungeon meshi/delicious in dungeon yan fic! i decided to do it in laios pov cause i feel it'll make for an interesting perspective. not really nsfw this time around lol since i'm still new and keeping up with the anime and learning about the characters SO IM ONLY CAUGHT UP ANIME-WISE OK LOL AND THE MONSTER I'M USING FOR THE READER ARE CONSCIOUS BEASTS THAT CAN COMMUNICATE AND SHIT LIKE THAT CAUSE IT'S SO VAGUE ON THE WIKI 😭😭 also i'm making shit up as i go okay so anything food related is like entirely made-up 💀 AND YEAH I MADE IT ABOUT BREAST MILK OKAY LMFAOOO tbh i've always wanted to try a dnd-related game but literally have no where to start (ik there's baldur's gate but i am a broke full-time student lol) hope y'all enjoy and hope i can make some more of laios cause he's so 🏃‍♀️💨💨 note: please keep in mind of the tags above and do not proceed if triggering or uncomfortable, especially if you are a minor!! do not read my or any other writers' dark content if you are underaged. this is a fictional work and does not reflect irl morals, do not believe this is how a real romance works or functions.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.───

Laios made a promise to never consume a demi-human, no matter the circumstances. It made sense, they were on the cusp of something that was human but not. They could have similar features like the races they respectively belonged to, could bleed red and have had a beating heart, yet in the end, they were still a monster inside and out. Morally or ethically — whichever which belonged to which — according to Chilchuck, it was still wrong to try and consume them.

He understood that completely once it got explained and stuck into his head, but then you came into question.

When you came into Laios's party during the search for his sister, you were almost attacked from how you meekly approached the small group in one of the dungeon’s levels. They were right to be cautious of course, many human-like monsters had previously attacked them when their guard was down, but once they realized you genuinely meant no harm, they let you join in. Marcille was overjoyed that another girl had joined the party, though both Laios and Chilchuck had their valid doubts about you. Senshi didn't really mind, long as you could pull your own weight and never tried to attack them.

Were you trying to play the long game? Did it make them taste better when you waited to strike? Were you eyeing your pick in the group? Senshi and him both have a lot of meat on their person, Chilchuck was definitely the least desirable since he was so small and had less meat on his body; to be honest, Marcille was in a similar boat as him too.

Food-wise, you ate whatever Senshi made with a happy smile, not even being deterred once from having to eat something that was considered to be closely related to you. He wondered if it was something you were used to, something that you had to be doing in order to survive down here. Then, if it came to other parties that came before them and being forced to defend yourself, did you ever had to... consume them?

Laios hoped it never had to occur, but he couldn't blame you if you had no other choice. He could imagine you being trapped for days before your kind could get to you, maybe one or two bodies from an adventuring party were with you from a previous scuffle and the pangs of hunger were getting to you. The thought of the remaining party members finding the torn apart limbs and strewn, chewed on bones surrounding a bloody starving monster made his stomach flip and a shiver go down his spine. Maybe it's because that's how he last remembered Falin right before she teleported them out of the dungeon, her midst of her body trapped in the toothy maw of that Red Dragon.

Because of this now since your alliance with them combined with the many questions in his head about your diet, there was one that he can't quite get rid of, no matter how much he tried.

What did a human taste like to a monster?

It's been a few weeks since they've ventured in the dungeon and Laios still had some doubts with your intentions for joining. A monster is a monster and cannot be trusted no matter what, but you didn't cause trouble or held them back from their search so he let you be... for now at least. He'd be a hypocrite for not letting you stay since he's been keeping Kensuke around, but it's only temporary and it can't really harm him without the other parts of the Living Armor. You're a moving... person? Half of one. Actually more a third-fourth of one? He doesn't quite know but still rather fascinated by your existence.

You were similar to them in conscious thought and speech, as well as appearance-wise. Well, appearance-wise, you definitely weren't human. Small, bilateral curved horns made their home on the sides of your head, floppy brown ears swung around with every step you took, a long bovine tail whipped around the bottom of your legs, and finally, your legs were curved into two thick cow-like stumps with hooves at the end as a replacement of feet. Minotaur, or that's what you said what you were, though you were smaller than those massive farm animal adjacent beasts, about a few inches taller than Marcille.

And not to sound like a perv or anything remotely similar to that, but you didn't really have udders either, unless your more than well-endowed breasts compensated for the lack thereof.

"Ow! Laios!" He snapped out of his thoughts, looking down at his metal shoe and seeing the fluffy end of your tail on the bottom of it.

"Oh, sorry." Slowly, he lifted his foot off of it, the appendage whipping around and twitching. It wrapped around your waist, almost completely hidden as a fuzzy brown and white belt.

"It's bad to get distracted here, are you hungry? Thirsty? I have some bread and milk in the pack if you want to snack on it." As you walked on forwards, you pulled the bag off of your shoulders and began to rummage through it with one hand. You finally found what you were looking for, handing it over to him without hesitation, slinging your bag back where it belonged. He stared at the milk as he chewed on the bread, the texture soft and light with each bite.

Did... did this come from you? You mentioned to them before in the beginning stages of joining that they can drink your milk if they needed to, but the horrified looks of both the elven mage and the Half-foot locksmith prevented you from trying any further. Both him and Senshi was of course curious, Minotaur milk was both difficult to come across and retrieve, but the two told the dwarf that they absolutely refused to eat anything that he cooked if it came from your body.

"Gross, don't tell me that came from you Y/N." Chilchuck grimaced as he walked on by and you shook your head.

"No! Of course not. I know you people humans are a little weird but I wouldn't give something that came from me without telling you. It's just cow milk, er... not from me." Laios felt a little disappointed as he opened the top of the bottle, wondering if it tasted different from normal cow's milk. According to the Dungeon Gourmet Guide, Minotaur milk was thicker and sweeter compared to the average cattle's; then again, this precious book of his wasn't really that accurate unfortunately.

What about your flesh?

He came to a sudden standstill, almost causing Marcille to bump into him.

"If you're gonna stop out of nowhere, at least move to the side Laios!" She grumbled, moving past him as he stood there in confusion. What was he thinking? Why would he even go so far as to think that? He started moving again, carefully watching you click on forwards. His mind began to wander at the thought again, which parts of you would be edible?

Your legs definitely, there's so much muscle built upon you there. He'd seen you strike down stone pillars and enemies in a single blow without even flinching. Maybe even your thin tail, could be tough and stringy though. Your ears would take a while to feast upon, cartilaginous but still a good source of protein. Horns are a no-go, too small and were most likely hollower than meaty. Cow hooves are a delicacy in some parts of the world, so it was possible that yours were consumable too.

Would the "human" parts of you count? You hadn't revealed if you were full or half-monster, maybe even if you were cursed, so it was hard to truly determine what you were. If you were a full monster, that meant that every bit and piece of you was edible meat.

Meat.

"Laios, you’re drooling! I can hear your stomach rumbling too," Your giggling voice rang clearly in his mind, his gaze snapping downwards as he wiped his mouth quickly. "I have more bread if you want."

"No, no. It's better if we stop now and make something more nutritionally beneficial to continue forwards," Senshi stopped with the two of you, turning his head around to find a suitable room for cooking. "Think I still have some of those Harpy eggs and Kelpie flesh, would you two be so kind to try and find some more ingredients on this floor? Any vegetation would do this meal some good."

And here the two of you were, walking around the floor's grounds to spot for anything of use. It was almost completely quiet minus the shifting of his armor and the clicks of your hooves echoing throughout the stone hallway, reducing that awkward silence just a little. Your weapon, a sharpened scythe, swung around on your back as if you were a cow grim reaper; the thought of a cow dressed up in a black robe with a menacing skull mask made him chuckle in his head a little.

"Oh! Up ahead, I see something leafy." The hoof-clicking went faster as you picked up your pace, ducking your head from the fallen wooden structures that were in the way. Compared to the average Minotaur, you moved and reacted quicker, most likely because of your smaller stature and having a little less muscle in your body to heave around. That could make you vulnerable on the other hand, having less muscle everywhere else minus your legs meant diminished strength and being unable to defeat enemies in a more timely manner. Interesting.

"Laios, do you think this enough for all five of us?" You shuffled out of the crevice in a huff with bundles of thick purple, triangular leaves in your arms and he took a pinch from one of the leaves, inspecting it before placing it in his mouth. He winced, his face contorting to a pucker as you laughed at his expression. Dungeon oxalis, edible but strongly tasted similarly to citrus.

"We could work with it, could make up for lemons since they're pretty sour. Here, place it in your bag and we can search for other things." You nodded after wiping your eyes from your boisterous laughter, following his instructions and getting back up from the ground.

You dusted yourself off before picking the bag back up, smiling at him as the two of you began to move deeper into the dungeon. "I hope we find some Night Lucernes but I think since we're already so low underground, it's getting more unlikely they can grow here."

"Oh we can't eat those, they make us sluggish and gives us stomach cramps for weeks."

Blinking at him, you tilted your head in confusion. He never noticed how long your eyelashes were, is that common in your kind? "Really? They're like vitamins for me or was it something about the blood—"

"Why are you not like the other Minotaurs?"

"Huh?" The question was out of the blue, interrupting her talking as the two of you had stopped in the middle of the hallway, eyes locked with one another.

"Why are you not like the other Minotaurs?" Laios repeated, not skipping a beat and leaning down closer to you. "You're not massively built, you don't have a cow's head, you don't have large horns. You don't strictly eat vegetation, is it even good for you to eat monster meat so often? There's so very few things that are Minotaur-like on you, are you really one of their kind?"

Your eyelids fluttered in shock, each question wrapping around your brain before you leaned away from him, scratching the back of your neck. "Well... I-I don't really know why myself."

"...What?"

"Uh yeah. One day, when I was still young, I woke up in this dungeon alone without a single memory in my mind. I don't even remember who named me either, but I vaguely remember being told that I'm a Minotaur. Maybe it's the Mad Mage's fault but I'm sorry Laios, I really can't explain why I'm not more like them."

Did that even satisfy his question on whether you were edible as a Minotaur or not?

"I do know is that I am a monster," You put a hand over where your heart is, clenching it tightly into a fist. "I ain't like you people humans and I'm sure not like those other animal humans you coexist with, so I am nothing but a monster. I may look a little different from my kind but inside and out, I have the Minotaur’s blood in me. And the strictly herbivore thing isn't really true, I can eat meat if I have no other choice to, it's not all that bad though. Doesn't really freak me out and I'm always grateful to have the opportunity to eat a good meal."

"So have you eaten other adventurers before meeting us? I won't judge, I'm genuinely curious and I won't tell the others if you have."

You froze, eyes casting downwards suddenly as your fists gripped onto the coat you wore. "I... I don't really want to talk about it Laios, sorry. I'll answer your other questions but some things are better left off unsaid, okay? Please respect that."

His lips were pulled into a thin line, the nagging voice in his head still ever curious on whether you've eaten human before, but you really did seem uncomfortable talking about the topic. "Sorry."

He then put a hand under his chin, thinking about what you've said previously slowly. Inside and out... Does that mean you are edible? I mean, you basically said it yourself, despite you being more on the human-appearance spectrum of monsters. Then again, they met more human-like monsters like the Harpies and the Dryads, and they've eaten them before! (Well... sorta.) The mermen were edible too (despite Chilchuck stopping him from taking more of the parts), so that means—

"Can I drink your milk then?"

"Wha— H-huh?!" The apples of your cheeks glowed a dark shade of red, but his gaze remained determined, sparkling in excitement even.

"You offered it before, didn't you? Chilchuck and Marcille aren't here so they won't judge us and I've been curious since my book said that it's different from normal cow's milk." You looked around, even peeking behind him, before sighing and bashfully pouting.

"I did! I know I did! But, I have to make it fresh since I threw out the ones I had on hand a week ago and I don't have any on my person right now so..."

"It's okay, I can wait." He bluntly replied, oblivious to your wording. Laios just wanted a little taste, nothing more and nothing less.

You mumbled something under your breath, his ears catching a few words of him being 'too eager' and 'quick to answer'. Was he? He was just answering your question honestly, and he’s been ever so curious about it ever since you’ve offered it before.

"Let me find a room, just wait outside for a bit."

You were flushed, clicking away to find a place to hide out so you could produce what he wanted. Of course he followed shortly after you left, staying outside just like you told him to and it would serve as extra security. If Minotaur milk tasted as good as they say, he might just keep asking you for it when some certain party members aren't nearby. Hell, he might even be able to sneak some to Senshi since he's been curious about it too! It's only right to share a magnificent discovery to the best monster chef. Actually, he might be the only monster chef he knew but he was still the best by default.

He waited.

And waited.

And waited…

Laios started to sit down next to the door due to how long you were taking to produce a small bottle. Was it difficult to get milk out of the body by yourself? He had to ask about that too since he’s only seen male Minotaurs depicted in his book; there was nothing but a small and vague paragraph that explained about the female Minotaurs, but it was mostly about their milk.

He closed his eyes, leaning his head against the stone wall. You really were a strange individual, someone that he can’t quite understand. Your very being makes his mouth salivate whenever he thinks about you as a next meal, even if it shouldn’t. Was it because all they’ve been eating has been monster-related? His strange fixation on trying them was slowly being satiated with every step down the dungeon, so he chalked it up to just being morbidly curious.

It has to be that reason, it must be, because what kind of sick individual constantly thinks about consuming his friend?

Opening back his eyes, he took another quick glance at the wooden door. Laios was extremely curious on how the whole process worked, if you really had extra udders or if the hidden parts of your body were furry or skin. Plus, you really were taking a long time, one of the three were bound to come over soon and he wouldn't be able to try the milk! Actually... you know what? What if you had gotten attacked in there by a whole group of Mimics?! Or any other monster group, like the ghosts! You were strong but you can’t take all of them at once, and monsters aren't able to revive here. Wait...

Monsters don’t revive here.

He scrambled up on his feet at the realization, quickly knocking on the door, the sound of stumbling and thuds causing him to immediately panic and start pushing it open.

"Are you oka—" Laios froze, his eyes widening.

Your eyes were wide open as well, mouth partially parted open in dumbfounded shock. At least you looked okay and it seemed there wasn't any harmful enemies around, just some old furniture that had fallen over. It's weird though. There you sat on the ground in the midst of the mess, one arm covering your bare chest while the other was holding a partially filled glass. He stood there in puzzlement as your face grew redder by the second, placing the glass down slowly before reaching for your weapon that was right next to you.

Oh.

Oh...

OH!

"LAIOS!!!"

"I'M SO SORRY!!!" He slammed the door back shut as the scythe made its way towards his head, the sharp blade slicing through the old wood, the tip just barely missing his nose. His heart pounded against the metal chest plate like a beating drum, his lungs completely drained of all air. He began to kneel on the ground for some support since his legs started to give out from the revelation. His body was burning up, like he just got lit on fire from the Red Dragon or was a little too close to one of Marcille's explosion spells.

He just saw you naked. Not completely, but still, he just saw your breasts. He was used to and never cared about seeing others nude or topless, whether they be male or female — monster or not — it's just parts but seeing you?

Despite being here for most of your life, the skin from what he saw was quite smooth and rather mostly unblemished. It's like scars weren't able to attach onto the surface, as if they weren't allowed to. And the curvature of your heavy breasts, the noticeable suppleness of both when you moved and inadvertently squeezed them with your arm. They weren't udders at all either like he thought they were, they were undeniably humanlike, no fur included. He imagined biting into them, wondering if it'll be easy to sink his teeth into the squishy fat while he sucked on both the spilling blood and milk, thinking about the mix of sweetness and tangy that'll occur if he did. He'd be especially lucky to leave any mark on your pristine skin during the process, his body tingling at the idea of being the only one — the only human — to permanently leave something behind.

Laios couldn't stop salivating, a hand over his mouth to prevent him from drooling all over himself. He's shaking, why was he shaking? Was it from the fear of these unstoppable thoughts of his? Because of the leaf he ate not a moment ago? No. It's because of these recent developments and the answers he was getting from them, he was becoming... excited.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

The door finally creaked open, a small glass bottle being pushed towards him from the barely ajar entrance. He looked up to where your head would be, your eyes nervously staring down to the side. You started to apologize in a soft mumble as you slowly revealed yourself, now completely dressed.

"Sorry for throwing my weapon at you earlier, but this is all I can give right now. If I had eaten Night Lucernes prior, it would've been better quality. Um... enjoy I guess?"

"Thank you for the drink." Laios smiled and took the bottle in his hands, staring at the liquid. It was warm, which was expected since it just came out of your body, and it wasn't fully white like he thought it would be, the color just had the faintest tinge of yellow that could be missed if he wasn't looking close enough. He took the glass's edge to his lips and finally, he took a small swig of it.

Sweet, precisely as he thought it would be, but not as overtly strong to make him sick or give him an immediate cavity. The book was right to say that it was thick, almost similar to a honey-like consistency but still light enough to not choke at the heavy feeling of it go down his throat. He didn't realize that he quickly drank all of it at once, his tongue running across his lips to catch any remaining liquid left. You said that this wasn't the best quality, but he couldn't imagine it being any better than what he just drank.

"That was..." Laios paused, smacking his lips to try and remember the taste once more. Your face slightly fell, eyebrows worriedly scrunching together. "Amazing!"

"R-really?" The slightly-afraid look melted off in relief, your eyes glowing in happiness. "No one ever said that it tasted amazing before... Actually, no one actually tried it before except you Laios."

He... he was the first one that tried your milk? The fleeting thoughts he had prior ran through his mind again, his cheeks flushing a slight pink. If he really was the first one that drank something of yours... then it's only right that it would be specially reserved for him right? It's really selfish of him to keep this amazing beverage from his dear party, but something like this should be cherished by the one that adores you the most.

He quickly grabbed your hands, holding them up as he squeezed them tightly in excitement. "Can I have more later? I won't tell our party, it'll be our little secret exchange between the two of us."

Laios watched your expression turned from complete shock to shy awe, your tail twitching around and thumping against your legs. You were silent for a bit before looking up at him, a determined glint in your eyes. "W-what's in it for me? I can't just be the only one giving you something.

Shit. That was fair of you to bring up but him as a normal Tall-man, there was very little he could give you in return for your breast milk. "What would you want from me anyway?"

His mind immediately went into the gutter: you wanted to eat something off of him. It could be considered a fair exchange, consumable body part for consumable bodily fluid. Maybe you were getting tired of eating monsters, needing your actual nutrition from people. He started to get nervous, what would he be able to give you from his body? Would a finger satiate you or would you need something larger? Laios can't really give up his arms or legs, he'd need them in order to get through the dungeon and save Falin. Tongue was completely out of the question, he can't imagine not being able to taste food in both normal and monster dishes.

The idea of giving you his dick to consume suddenly popped up in his mind, the thought of trying to cut it off caused him to pale. He didn't use it much compared to his other body parts, only needing it to use to take a leak; he wasn't really the sexually active type either, being able to count the partners he previously had on only one hand. Technically and hesitantly, that would be the only large body part that he can give up for you.

Briefly, he imagined how'd you eat it. You weren't an messy eater when it came to Senshi's food — despite having to learn how to use utensils but still preferring to make use of your hands — so you'd probably be as neat as possible with it. You'd eat it raw, as soon as he managed to slice it off his person, warm crimson slipping down your fingers as you bite down through the layers of skin and muscle.

Or there was the possibility that you wanted to take it off yourself, kneeling right down in-between his legs, hands slowly sliding up his thighs to his hips as you approached his lower half. He'd be forced to watch you take his soft cock into your mouth, probably struggling if he accidentally got hard during the process. The last thing that Laios would feel would be your mouth's warmth wrapping around it before chomping down.

A shiver went down his spine, though it didn't feel as horrid as it was supposed to be.

With your big lashed eyes, you slowly blinked once more as a small smile grew on your lips. "Knowledge. I want to learn about the outside world. I've never left the dungeon before, all the adventurers that came before your party prevented me from ever trying."

Oh... That's actually not a bad exchange request, simple in nature. At least he gets to keep his junk, despite his heart still pounding from what his fucked-up mind just mustered up.

"Okay deal. I'll teach you about my world in exchange for milk." He put out his hand, letting you reach out and shake it. Your eyes relaxed as you smiled warmly up at him, finally letting him go. Laios then went over and patted your head, rubbing the top gently. You stiffened lightly at the gesture, his fingers brushing over the horns. They were smooth with faint ring-like indentations, almost an ivory-creamy color. Truly a fascinating feeling.

"There you guys are! You've been gone for so long that we were starting to get worried." Marcille. You batted his hand off of your head quickly, turned around with a tautly-pulled grin towards the elven girl.

"Must've lost track of time finding what Senshi wanted, sorry about the wait. You guys must be starving by now." The two of you started to chat walking back to the temporary camp, Laios watching and following from behind. You pulled out the oxalis in your bag to show her, a proud expression beaming off your face as you brought up his face when he first tried it. His stomach twisted, his hand resting on the top of his armor-covered abdomen.

There were very few monsters he found cute, most being out-of-this-world frightening to gaze upon, but you truly were one of the cuter ones around. He felt hungry again as your hips swayed from side to side, tail flicking around. He brushed the fingers that he touched your horns with against his lips, reminiscing on the texture. How sensitive were they? You did go rigid when he brushed against them, but it could be just from the shock.

Saliva was building up in his mouth again, and he could only harshly swallow back the feeling.

Deplorable he was with this appetite, the desire to consume you piece by piece. Would you accept that as one of your final fates? Rather than being killed and left behind with little to no chance of being revived, he'd pick up every raw part of you and eat it, savoring each bite in respect for what you've sacrificed to help him find his sister. Laios would try to bring the inedible bits of you with him — bones, teeth, horns, nails, hooves, hair — for the rest of this dungeon's journey and back into his world. Your wish would be granted, despite not being able to fully witness it yourself; you might even thank him for that bit of kindness too.

This thing the two of you had was special, unbeknownst to the others. A friendship that couldn't be understood by the other members of the party, but was completely comprehensible to only you and him. Symbiotic, just almost mutualistic. A love of one's flesh in exchange for the love of another's world.

Love.

Though Laios has expressed his heavy interest and passion in monsters, he never had said he loved them. Most were mindlessly dangerous, no matter how small or large they were, acting on base instinct. Yet, you were different. In fact, he could say that you were the opposite of him. Instead of being grouped together with your fellow monster-kind, you were more interested in being around outsiders. Different sides of the same golden coin.

A realization hit him, his eyes widening. The strange feelings in his body, the perverse, obsessive fantasies he's been having about you... It could only mean that he—

"Jeez Laios, you've been spacing out all day. Are you okay?"

He snapped out of it, staring at the concerned looks of both you and Marcille. Laios only smiled, his golden eyes focused completely on your form. Both your ear and tail tip was twitching, flicking in the air as if a fly was nearby.

"I'm just hungry, that's all."

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sirenlulls · 2 years ago

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bad idea, right? → theburntchip

pairing , theburntchip x youtuber!reader

summary , where the much-mourned couple of the uk youtube scene reconnect

note , this is in aid of my wifey @whoetoshaw who sends the chip lovers in her inbox my way 🤭🫶

part two (get him back!)

yes, i know that he’s my ex, but can’t two people reconnect?!

[tagged: ynapparel , model1 , model2 , model3]

❤️ liked by theburntchip, freyanightingale, and 92,787 others

yourusername EEEE!!!! so happy to announce the launch of my clothing brand, y/n apparel (so original ik 😩💋) the official site will launch on the 21st of september & will bring you a wide variety of styles, from loungewear, to club dresses, to athleisure. i’ve been working on this for little over two and a half years now with my beautiful, creative, incredible, and innovative team. i love love love u all my fashion family @ ynapparel. and i love U!!!! for supporting me 🫶💗 looking forward to seeing u on the apparel account’s insta live as we greet and interview your fav influencers at the launch party x 🥰🥰

user the post hasn’t even been up a minute and chip liked ☹️😭

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yourusername won’t let u down calfreezy sir 🫡

taliamar baby’s all grown up 🥺 so proud of you my love i can’t wait to see the art you make 🫶

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yourusername i’ll get u set up in a gorg pink bodycon x

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maxbalegde THATS MY GIRL!!! 😭😭😭 buzzing for you babes xx

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yourusername go big or go home ig 🤷‍♀️

user i wanna buy to support but i’m broke so what are the prices gonna be like?

yourusername me and the team tried to keep prices as low as possible but to make sure we were using ethical and durable means of production, we have to keep them pretty middle-ground. around £35/50 quid for the dresses but everything else is pretty diverse in price 💗

user just in time for me to get my winter wardrobe 🤭🥰

model2 loved working with you!! you’re such an angel 💗

yourusername awh my stunning girl!! you’re the sweetest thing & i look forward to working with you again 🫶🫶

[tagged: ynapparel , arthurtv , freyanightingale , zerkaa , gkbarry_ , faithlouisak , calfreezy , chrismd , stephentries , theobaker]

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yourusername so so so honoured to have the chance to spend a night celebrating my passion project with the people i care the most about. i love u all a million more times than u could ever know. (ft. some very distinguished, very sloshed gentlemen in the last two slides 🥰)

ksi 🖤🔥

freynightingale that pic omg i’ll cry 😭 it was such an amazing night for such an amazing brand and such an amazing woman!! you deserve all the greatness you get ❤️❤️❤️

user mother is motheringgggggg

ynapparel 🩷🩷🩷

gkbarry_ you looked so gorg babe i wanted to take a bite out of you x

yourusername who’s saying you can’t 😩😩

stephentries you know it’s a good night when chrisMD gets his tits out

user losing my mind ur so beautiful

calfreezy NAHHH WHY DID YOU DO THEO LIKE THAT

miaxmon had an absolute ball!!! you looked incredible babe 🫶💋

arthurnfhill it was all fun and games until the karaoke came out to play

yourusername pretending it didn’t happen

user THEY INTERVIEWED CHIP ON THE IG LIVE

user OMG WHY DID HE SAY

user he looked like he was tryna keep it brief but he said he was so proud of y/n because he’s seen how hard she’s worked for this & she deserves it all 🥹🥹🥹 & he also called cal a bellend because he crashed the interview by slapping chip’s bum

[tagged: theburntchip]

❤️ liked by wroetoshaw, willne, and 1,021,363 others

yourusername can’t two people reconnect?

comments on this post have been restricted.

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m1ndbrand · 1 year ago

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"all it took was..." — The new President

WARNINGS: Coriolanus Snow is it's own warning(Snow after the 10thGames, 2 years after to be precise); Mentions of death and corpse(small description, nothing big).

SUMMARY: The 12th Hunger Games winner unfortunately fortunately gets the attention of President Snow.

WORDS: 1.384

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the franchise The Hunger Games characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them. I do claim what I wrote and only that.

A/N: If you know the tragedy of Coriolanus by William Shakespeare some names will be recognizable...Also I'm sorry but this chapter won't be the continuation of their little...encounter— but I promise, it's going to happen!

TAG-LIST: @sorry-mrs-jacobs; @phoward89;

MASTERLIST

He was never someone who believed in the stars and whatever they might mean to some people.

It seemed completely idiotic and beneath someone from the level of education, you would get from the Capitol to have this belief that in his humble opinion, of course — was archaic and beneath him.

Fate and stories written on the stars were all but a way of fairy tales being made, a topic on some and even a very important one at that "merging" some characters together like the universe itself deemed them a pair, one in two.

Star-crossed lovers.

How he hated that idea, he couldn't believe he even fed it to—

Let's not dwell on that topic, he had better things to do, like arrange a new Games Maker for the 12th Hunger Games.

Doctor Volumnia Gaul is no more, some freak accident with one or more than one mutt; it wasn't clear, the body was far too mutilated to be recognised by anyone at all if not for the DNA tests and well...the place of the accident, a place only a few people were able to enter and of course Doctor Gaul was one of those people, him included in the small pool.

It was slightly weird however how the mulls were able to break free, the reporters debated it for the first days the case broke daylight, but the theory was quickly suppressed.

After all, mulls were still in being tested and we're highly volatile, their behaviour unstable and unpredictable. And of course, accidents happen.

But the world continues to go around and so shall the Capitol, he needed to find someone and fast.

He should have looked more into it, the selection that is. But he had more important things in his place, strength the security in the several points of entry on all distractions, the training of the peacekeepers and the change of the uniform like he so petitioned for just to name a few.

The new and young president had more important things to worry about than some person who would probably be soon replaced if so needed.

The theme he chose ,he didn't even try to remember the man's name, was an advanced-looking arena; a sign of the year the Capitol got a new President. Coriolanus liked the idea. It painted his future reign as one that would lead them into the future, lead them into a better time.

It painted him as a good leader.

The reaping ceremony passed without a problem. Some students clearly didn't like something— their tribute lack of attributes to make them win or the idea of having to participate in such 'twisted games' as the rebel-like-youth liked to name his games. He honestly couldn't care less, blue-ice-like eyes looking straight at the screens with a fake polite smile when the camera twists at him, showing his all too polished self composed with a deep red suit and thick coat that made his figure even more imposing than it normally is.

He would soon return to his manor and actually work, the two hours of the opening ceremony put his work ethic behind schedule more than he liked to admit.

There was much to be done to make the Capitol and the Districts into the way he saw fit and Coriolanus shouldn't waste more time than he already has.

Not even a day later he would have the files of everyone who chose to review. For some reason the late president did this— the threat of the Rebels was still very much a problem and he was of course scared shitless by them so all 'useful' information was of course turned into two paper pages that it was his duty to read through.

Coriolanus was just about to skim through them all but the very first file caught his attention, District One female tribute.

Not the girl's image he didn't even look at it properly, he already saw every tribute face on the reaping ceremony... all looked underfed and clearly not fit for an entertaining games in terms of pure brutal strength, the mentors would need to sell them well to the Capitol. No it was her name. Her last name rang a bell.

A big warning bell was inside his head and it made his eyebrows furrow, hand picked up the two-page long file and flipped through the description of her family. Something was amiss, he could feel it in his bones. Something was wrong.

Coriolanus could almost feel the hunger tearing at his stomach, his small sweaty hand tightly gripping his equally moist cousin's hand as they received the news of his father's death.

His other small hand gripping the files of several names of supposed rebels that could be the reason behind his father's death. Blond hair falls against his sweaty forehead as at that time he didn't understand why he had to read the names of random men.

Brutus.

His hand grips the file on his hand, veins popping up as his eyes skim through the contents of the file, once and then twice. He didn't even sit down, reading in silence for 10 minutes over and over again to look out for another word, sentence, or anything more.

Only two people are still alive from her family— grandmother and little brother, Valeria Brutus and Menenius Brutus, then they got the last name from her grandfather. His hand moves the paper right and left, trying to see if her grandfather's first name was there. But it wasn't. It probably wasn't deemed to be useful information since he is dead. Putting the papers down he turns with a sigh to his window, chin rising as he looks to see all the perfectly arranged garden of pure white roses in the front of his mansion.

No this shouldn't matter. It didn't matter, not now. He got what he wanted he won, the victor. He was still standing with or without his father.

The nostalgic feeling of feeling hungry regrows once again and it makes him nauseous, sharp eyes turning to the face of the girl on the page. She looked like every other girl he reminds himself as he starts a little too long at her face. Eighteen, one more year and she should have been safe from the reaping.

A smile creeps on his lips. Amusement dancing in his eyes like he had just read a good enough joke.

He couldn't sleep.

Coriolanus hated to be in need of something even if it was just a simple pill to go to sleep. He was better than that, he could sleep alone thank you very much.

Couldn't he just get the information he wanted? He could, he had the resources, and he had the needs to if he so pleases, so why not?

No.

No, he wouldn't lose to this...whatever this is, curiosity, need— want to know. Closure.

Maybe that was it. Know the person or people that did this to him. To his family. The people that made him starve and struggle. Envy and step on people that he knew were living better than him, growing to bring them down so he could feel himself high above them all. Know the people that in a way, made him the way he is now.

Rising he presses the inside of his palms to his eyes.

For fucks sake— Shut the fuck up!

His mouth was open. Eyes shot open and hands grabbing tightly the silk covers, knuckles turning white. Did he shout those words? Wasn't it all in his head? His hands were shaking, face was slightly flushed red from anger.

It's one of those episodes.

Rising he curses under his breath, feet carrying him to one of the small tables with some pills on them. Deep eyes thin as he tried to look into the colours of the various drugs that looked like they were thrown there and he picked a deep purple one in the midst of the rainbow and quickly gulped it down without water.

His attention is caught by the silver-like glow of the moonlight slipping through his windows, blue tired-looking eyes looking up at the sky, they find the stars instead of the moon that sings for attention. Wishing to catch a stray star amidst the ones that stay. Maybe he could catch it as it falls.

With those thoughts, sleep would soon catch him.

#coriolanus snow x reader #dark!coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x you #dark!coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas x you #tbosas fanfiction #tbosas x reader #tbosas #the hunger games #thg x reader

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ichore · 9 months ago

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CHAPTER 1

pairing(s): nanami kento x afab!reader x higuruma hiromi synopsis: the three of you passed the bar and decided to celebrate in your own little way warnings, tags: MINORS DNI, no curse au, nanami is kinda ooc, kissing, fondling, smoking, not proofread wc: est 2k masterlist

“It's like a church.” you whispered as you stood in the empty courtroom; the chemicals of the cleaning supplies still lingered in the air. It mixed with the woody smell of the stand, seats and tables of where usually life changing decisions were argued for and against.

“And then there she is, with her tits out in all their glory.” said Nanami Kento, who was on your left, while staring at the small statue of Lady Justice who stood proudly on the Stand ahead of where a Judge normally sat. His comment earned a furrow of your brows, but as he lifted the rim of his beer bottle to his mouth, you realized he already drank the majority of his drink - and he was already at his fourth one.

“Do you have something against breasts, Nanami?” Higuruma Hiromi slurred, the heat of his body warmed your right side. His black strands of hair fell messily on his forehead, his tie slightly loosened and awry enough to see the drops of sweat pearling on his neck. He was a mess, but the glint in his dark eyes told you that perhaps this was the happiest day of his life so far.

“Shut up, and enjoy your free drinks.” Kento spat. “Not like you look like you need any more, though.”

“Be nice, Ken-Ken…” your hand rested on Kento's shoulder blade for the span of his fleeting annoyance. Unlike Hiromi and you, Nanami Kento came from a rich family; he had the money and the arrogance to easily survive Law School, to be the second best of his class. The dreams of many came easily and fell on his lap. No matter what he wanted, he got it. Except for you, and the first place of the class - which Hiromi earned.

“I've told you not to call me that.” a defeated sigh left Kento's lips as his eyes wandered to yours that already had the curve of a mischievous smirk. “What are we doing here, anyway? We just passed the Bar, we're going to see this place a lot from now on.”

“Not like this,” you began to walk towards the stand. The lull of your own beer became evident in your unstable steps, the clicking of your heels echoed against the wooden floor, and both men silently watched and followed you as you sat on one of the tables. You held your cold drink against your chest to soothe yourself. “I'm going to be a Judge.”

“That's five more years.” Kento hissed. In that moment, he realized he was never going to have you; when he asked you if you would be his girlfriend, you said you weren't open for a relationship until you passed the Bar and now you just broke the new that he'd have to wait five more years, and even then, he would have to face the ethical concerns and troubles of dating a Judge as he was going to be a Prosecutor. For you, perhaps he wouldn't mind, but he had the suspicion that you would rather not.

“Yeah, no shit.” Hiromi mumbled, his widened eyes stared at the red bottoms of your black shoes as his index finger kept tapping against his empty bottle. He, on the other hand, hoped that despite the obvious choice of your classes, you would change your mind and become a Public Defender like he was going to be. Your sense of just mixed in with the right amount of kindness was what drew him to you. On his lonely nights, he pictured himself opening his own law firm with you, how he would give you the best office with the best view. Where together, you could save the helpless. And now, he just learned that you were going to be the one who would often take one's hope away with your decisions.

“Uhh… Thanks for the support, I guess?” you said, your sarcastic tone snapped both men back to the present where you were staring at them with raised eyebrows as your arms were tightly intertwined ahead of your bosom. “How lucky I am to have such great friends who always motivate me for more in life.”

“It's not that,” Kento clicked his tongue. His honey colored eyes looked Hiromi up and down, the fingers of his free hand fidgeting beside him like they always did before he said something vulnerable. You realized he was thinking that Hiromi was completely out of it. “I'm gonna miss you, is all.”

“Jesus… You said it yourself: we're going to be in court aaaall the time. We're probably going to see each other enough.” you shook your head as you reached out for Kento's hand and began to play with his fingers; he was always well kept, and the softness of his enormous hands and pedicured nails were something you always wished you could feel on your skin. The thud of his beer being placed on the desk next to you, his wide chest being mere inches away from your face and the way his legs were in one line with your knees in between your legs suddenly created a wave of heat in the courtroom.

“But not like this,” Kento whispered, the coldness of his drink remained on his palm and now it was pressed against your cheek. A golden strand of his hair fell ahead as he slowly leaned in, his alcohol drenched breath tickled your skin before he pressed his lips against yours. The softness of his kiss reminded you of a pillow; ever so gentle and weightless, until soft pecks turned into his tongue forcing its way into your mouth. He let go of your cheek to cup the flesh of each of your thighs to pull you closer and open your legs wider.

The view of the vibrant red of your lacy underwear against Kento's black suit pants jolted Hiromi back to reality. His heart sank as his soon to be mortal enemy devoured the woman he ached for for years, and yet, he could not bring himself to stop staring. He wanted his feet to take him out of that place, but they brought him closer to you instead. The smacking of your lips, your sighs, your hums all echoed in his ears as he stood right next to Kento.

Whereas Hiromi was in pain, Kento was on cloud 9. All he wanted was you, your touch and your skin, your warmth that was seeping in between your groins and pampered his cock into rock hardness. So when his kisses found the sensitive crook of your neck, he didn’t mind that your lonely lips found Hiromi's. In a strange way, your hand pulling the black haired man into your shared, desire filled air made his cock twitch in anticipation and the first drop of his precum began to roll out.

Hiromi's kisses were more hungry and desperate, his tongue massaged yours with the aftertaste of a punishment. His teeth sank into your bottom lip as one of his hands slapped your ass before kneading the abused flesh some more while his other hand began to fondle your breast.

The rustle of the janitor's key from outside the courtroom door made the two men nearly jump away from you. Hiromi held your hand to help you off the table while Kento fixed your skirt just in time before the old man opened the door, and found all three of you in a messy state. Kento covered his mouth with his hand, his fingers slightly pinching his cupid's bow, as if he was boiling with wrath that he got caught in such a situation - but underneath his cover, you could see that your lipstick was all over his face. Which made you realize that it meant your own face was also a mess.

“What are you doing here? The ceremony has long been over.” the janitor asked, his eyes studying the three of you with suspicion.

“Just saying goodbye, y'know…to the place.” Hiromi said, giving half a smile and half a laugh.

“Yeah, well, now I have to clean this place again. So leave.”

The walk of shame to the parking lot of the school was silent. Each of you had their eyes fixed on the tip of your own shoes until Hiromi pulled out a cloth napkin and handed it to you, motioning that you should clean up around your mouth a little. Your skin was still red from all the rubbing when it was Kento's turn to get rid of your makeup, meanwhile Hiromi decided to light a cigarette.

“That's a nasty habit that you got there.” Kento said as he took the cigarette out of the other man's hand and replaced it with the stained napkin. His free fingers wriggled from the adrenaline while his lips wrapped around the butt of the cig and he took a deep inhale, and held the smoke down.

“You know this isn't a blunt, right? Like you don't have to hold it in.” Hiromi laughed, his hands motioning the blond man to exhale already and to give the cigarette back, but before he could have it, you snatched it from the meeting of their fingers. Kento watched you from the corner of his amber eyes as he blew the smoke in the opposite direction of where you stood.

To their greatest surprise, despite your shaky hand and trembling body, you were smiling. “This was fun.” you said, finally.

“My parents aren't home tonight if you…both wanna come over.” Kento said, hiding his fists in the depth of his pockets. The late afternoon sunlight made his eyes look like two sunsets of their own, his messy blond strands gently danced along with the wind and his arms looked enormous in the posture he stood next to you - but all you could look at was the wet stain on the left side of his lap.

“Maybe another time,” you slowly exhaled the smoke before handing the almost fully finished cig to Hiromi, your fingers caressing the side of his hand as he took it from you. Suddenly, your lips crashed against the dark haired man’s while your fingers remained intertwined as Kento was nervously looking around if anybody else was witnessing the scenario - as if he knew, you were going to kiss him, too. A smile tugged at both your lips and his when you made your way to him; he devoured you like he wanted to memorize the very taste of you, his palms pressed against your cheeks to hold you as long as possible. “Be good, okay?” you said to both as you pulled away from Kento, and began to make your way to your car. Only when they were far away from you, you realized that your heart was raging against your ribcage like a bird begging to be freed. You wanted both men. You loved them, in fact, but Law was your life and you were not ready to throw your career away on the very day it just began.

“I'm going to destroy you, Nanami.” Hiromi eyed the blond man with darkness in his gaze. “In court.”

“Oh? Is that so? I think you're going to be more broke than ever.”

“Money isn't everything. It's about the people.”

“But money is everything,” Kento inched closer to Hiromi. The magnetic haze of your existence no longer pulled them together. Their tones were condescending, bile swelled at each of their words. “You won first place here, yeah, but this is a school. In real life, you won't have the manpower or the resources to win your cases.”

“Justice will prevail.”

“Do you even hear yourself? How pathetic you sound? I swear, I don't understand what she sees in you.”

“That's none of your business, Nanami. See you in court soon.” An all consuming rage began to bloom in Hiromi, his fists were tight and it took all in him to not hit the man standing ahead of him. Were it not for you, he wouldn't have walked away. But perhaps if it weren't for you, Nanami wouldn't have this type of power over him; it was you who introduced them to one another, the two very best men of the class. What was your reason to do such a thing? He wondered.

#nanami kento x you #higuruma hiromi x you #jjk x you #jjk x reader #nanami kento #higuruma hiromi #shikari writes #smut

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polling-sonic-fans · 8 months ago

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Tumblr Biases

Recieved yet another note on a poll expressing concern that it would be a biased result because the population of tumblr does not reflect all Sonic fans. This is true for all of this blogs polls - they can only, and only aim to, capture data on the Tumblr Sonic community.

A few expected biases that come to mind immediately, that you should be aware of interpretting the data from these polls (and many others on this website:

Tumblr seems to have above average incidence of neurodiversity when comparing large polls to global data (See Table 2). This is expected to affect polls regarding narrative readings, specifically in interpretting neurodiversity in characters, and interfan relations/ fandom culture.

Tumblr is known to overrepresent non-hetero sexualities (regrettably, citing buzzfeed here); this might suggest that polls will skew towards reading characters as LGBT, and a preference for same-sex pairings over more typically 'straight' user bases.

Tumblr has a higher proportion of women/ female identifying people, as well as a large non-binary and trans population. Considering that in 2015 Yougov found that more women than men listed Sonic as their favourite video game, (although we cannot extend this data too far - it is out of date, British, and a very specific wording), it could be said that this doesn't impact our polls as much as gaming communities with more men in them, however we should be aware that tumblr has a distinctly smaller community of cisgendered men.

Tumblr is perceived to lean left, although this is a difficult metric to quantify as 'left' is so broad. Still, we should expect polls relating to politics, ethics, and activism can be expected to be affected by this.

70% of tumblr users are Gen Z and Millenials. This should not be a major issue, as it is expected that the majority of Sonic fans will be under the age of 50 at present, but will impact the life stages we expect most users to have hit.

There will be more ways in which the data gained in these polls is biased by hosting on Tumblr. Blogrunner does not have ambitions to host polls on any other site, as this is where it is active. However please consider these and other biases if you intend to use any data gathered here for your own purposes, as well as the following caveats:

The reblogging nature of this site means that polls with small sample size cannot be considered reliable: one large blog might be able to share a poll and encourage their followers to vote in kind with them. I recommend that until polls start reaching 500 votes minimum, they cannot be considered fair representatives of the tumblr Sonic community, and as always the more votes the more reliable.

I am asking polls in English: these questions can only be considered to be reflective of the english speaking population of tumblr.

Polls on tumblr do not allow for changing vote - if wording is complex, votes are more likely to be inaccurate.

Polls regarding characters will include that characters tag, and therefore recieve more traffic from fans of the character who frequent that tag, than those who dislike the character, who may even have it blocked. Same for ships and games people may either follow or block.

That's all that's coming to mind right now. This post will be pinned as a disclaimer, please always do your own research and think critically about the ways in which netnography and survey are limited data points. Thanks.

#Not a poll #Moderator note

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flymmsy · 1 year ago

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Bad Taste in Clothes

■■ Pairing: Enver Gortash/The Dark Urge ■■ Genre: smut (Explicit) ■■ Word Count: 4.7k ■■ Tags: EXPLICIT SMUT, durge-typical mentions of violence, rough sex, dom/sub, switchy vibes but mostly dom gortash when it comes to the sex, the gauntlet stays on, mentions of blood, striptease, FEELINGS, dirty talk, choking, spanking, fingers in mouth, angst, brief ethical non-monogamy, vaginal sex, wine shower, blowjobs, non-con mention/threat but not really, brief suicidal thoughts. ■■ Author's Note: This was inspired by this masterpiece by zeppersart. For reference, in this piece Durge is AFAB, uses she/her pronouns, and her name is Lyra. Race is left ambiguous. ■■ Read it on AO3

“Are you going to come out now?” He ran a hand through his hair as he made his way into the center of the sitting room, setting the wine bottle upon a nearby table. When she did not immediately respond, he gave a huff of annoyance, “I’m hardly in the mood for games this evening.” “Shame,” Lyra took the moment to pounce, stepping from the shadows to kick him square in the chest, sending the lord tumbling backwards into a high-backed chair, “I have so much fun playing with you.” Pain and genuine anger flickered across his face before he looked up at her, able to see her for the first time that evening. His face immediately smoothed into something much closer to hunger. “You’re wearing the dress I sent.”

Enver Gortash had the worst taste in clothes, as far as Lyra was concerned. Her nose scrunched up in disgust as she looked over the garment that he had sent along with her messenger. The color was fine – deep red that matched the grooves of blood flowing through the floor of her room – but the fabric? An extravagantly heavy cloth woven with glittering beads and adorned with gold embellishments. And the cut - she could feel the laced back squeeze into her ribcage just from looking at the thing. The dress was restrictive in every sense except for the neckline: long, tight sleeves running up to a sharp square front which would push her breasts forward, no doubt. She assumed this was meant to provide the perfect canvas for the ridiculously large ruby necklace that had accompanied the dress.

Certainly very Banite. He was throwing a party, he had told her one evening when they lay in his bed, exhausted from another of their increasingly frequent liaisons. He had asked if she would attend, and despite his best efforts, Lyra had heard the lilt of hope in his voice. Eager to choke the sentimentality down, Lyra had laughed, proclaiming that she couldn’t possibly attend such a lavish event as she did not have anything to wear that would be worthy of the grand occasion. She ran her fingers over a cut she had left earlier on his chest, hoping the matter had been deflected. She was unprepared when he had put his hand over her own, a triumphant smile spreading across his face as he insisted he would see to her needs.

She had tentatively agreed in the moment, but his choice revealed itself to be an atrocity. She threw the dress atop her bed and crossed the room to her desk, pulling out parchment and ink.

“Lord Gortash,” The letter began, Lyra scratching across the page. She had come to only use his title when she was angry or wanted something, or perhaps both.

Lord Gortash, I received your gift. I can safely say it is the most hideous thing I have ever laid eyes on. Does your god demand such gaudiness from all his followers? I will not be wearing this dress, and I will not be attending your party. In fact, it is truly such a horror that I am reconsidering our association. I will let you know my verdict, pray that it is favorable. -L

─────────

Annoyingly, she had not received any response to her letter. She had expected their usual dance – her sharp words eliciting a snarky retort from him, volleying until one of them won. The silence had been unnervingly deafening, and when the night of the party arrived without a letter from the tyrant, Lyra decided to take matters into her own hands.

She slipped into the dress, finding the fit snug but not as much of an imprisonment as she had expected. She wrapped a cloak around herself and left the temple, hastily making her way to her associate’s manor in the Upper City. It had been hours since the party had officially begun, but Lyra could still hear the revelry well underway as she approached.

It was, as always, too easy to slip past his guards and climb her way up to the balcony of his private chambers. What do you pay them for? She had once snapped, displeased with the quality of their services after she herself had found a would-be assailant lurking in his garden. He had waved her concerns off, coolly replying that his guards were perfectly adequate, she was just faster.

Though, she never did see the guards that had been on duty that day again.

She found the balcony door unlocked, undoubtedly a result of his exasperation with her constant lockpicking. She stashed her cloak behind a potted plant on the balcony and stepped into his sitting room. His chambers were not necessarily large, but just like everything else about Lord Enver Gortash, they were certainly lavish – all elegant rugs, fine silks, and expensive paintings. His domain consisted of four rooms: to the left of the sitting room was his study and to the right was his bedchamber, off of which resided the most indulgent washroom she had ever seen. At its center was an enormous bath, which the infuriating genius had somehow managed to supply with running water even this deep into the city. She had spent many nights in that bath, watching the water darken as blood ran off of her skin, sometimes even allowing strong hands to glide soft cloth over her body.

Lyra chided herself for enjoying the comfort, ripping herself from the memory. The Child of Bhaal did not need such things, she would be satisfied with bathing in the blood itself. And yet…

Footsteps, and then – a woman’s laughter? Lyra moved to conceal herself from a place in the study where she could keep watch as the doors to the sitting room swung open. A patriar, or so Lyra guessed from the woman’s extravagant dress, glided into the room and laughed again as she spun around to face the doorway. A moment later, Gortash entered and swiftly closed the doors behind him, turning to the patriar with a hungry look. It was one Lyra herself knew quite well – he was stalking his prey.

She watched as Gortash grabbed the hips of the patriar, maneuvering the woman up against the door in an instant. His mouth fiercely claimed that of his guest’s, burying the woman’s surprised gasp of ‘Lord Gortash!’ with his tongue. A sinking feeling hit Lyra in her stomach, but she was quick to smother it down. This was all fine, of course. Whatever existed between Gortash and herself, they had made it explicit that they indulged in other lovers. She knew it was a particularly useful tool for the tyrant in his negotiations.

Yet, as Lyra watched them grind into each other, she could not deny the sickening fire that churned inside her.

The blood rushing through her ears drowned out Gortash’s words to his companion as he stepped back and gestured for the woman to take a seat. He turned towards the study, and Lyra sank deeper into the shadows of the room. She eyed him as he crossed the threshold and headed for his wine cabinet, as Lyra expected he would – ever the gracious host.

She took the soft clink of his gauntlet around a bottle as her cue. In an instant, her knife was at his throat, her body pressed against his back, drinking in the way he tensed.

“Well what do we have here?” She whispered, lips fluttering over his ear, “a whore at work?”

She watched the smirk spread across the side of his race in recognition. His body notably relaxed, which elicited a small snarl from Lyra. He should not be relieved it was her, he should be terrified. She tightened her grip on the knife as she pressed it further into his neck. He tensed again, which brought a smile back to Lyra’s face.

“I didn’t think—” he began in an attempt to ease her displeasure.

“You often don’t.”

He gave a restrained laugh and Lyra watched his throat bob against her knife, “We both know that’s not true.”

Brilliant bastard. She hated him, hated how his words and his voice could be so disarming. She slid her free hand down his front, running her hand over his cock. She gripped it tightly, relishing the surprised huff that escaped his throat.

“Already hard for her? Are you really that easy, Lord Gortash?”

“Lyra,” he growled in warning.

“Get rid of her,” she pressed her knife in further to his throat, enough to cut this time, “Or I will.”

She released him, immediately stepping back into the shadows. He turned to look at her, but her superior stealth left him without purchase. Bottle in hand, he returned to the expectant patriar.

“Darling,” Lyra heard him begin, tone laced with false apology, “I’m afraid I forgot about an early meeting in the morning. We’ll have to continue this another time.”

“My lord-” the woman began in protest, but a gauntleted hand against her cheek and an easy smile assured her all would be well.

“I will make it up to you, I swear,” Gortash gently took the woman’s hand in his own, supplying her with the wine bottle he had selected, “please, enjoy this for me this evening.”

The patriar looked at him for a moment before pushing the bottle back to him, her fingers lingering on his chest. Lyra wondered what it would be like to slice those fingers off one by one, how pretty they would look.

“We’ll enjoy it together when you make it up to me,” the woman leaned forward to place a kiss to his lips, comparatively chaste to the one they shared against the door. Gortash smiled and gave a warm laugh in response. Lyra hated that laugh. It was his fake laugh, one he fabricated into a weapon to match his charm. His real laugh was something callous and echoing and beautiful.

“As you wish,” Gortash guided the woman to the door with a hand against the small of her back. He bade her a goodnight and shut the door in her wake. Still concealed, Lyra moved from the study back into the sitting room, watching as Gortash listened to the patriar’s footsteps recede. After a moment, he turned and spoke to the air.

“Shame,” Lyra took the moment to pounce, stepping from the shadows to kick him square in the chest, sending the lord tumbling backwards into a high-backed chair, “I have so much fun playing with you.”

Pain and genuine anger flickered across his face before he looked up at her, able to see her for the first time that evening. His face immediately smoothed into something much closer to hunger.

“You’re wearing the dress I sent,” a pleased hum escaped his throat as he leaned forward in the chair, moving to stand.

“Stay,” Lyra halted him with a glare. A silent battle took place between the two, as it so often did, both parties overly proud and wielding near-indomitable will. Finally, Gortash relinquished out of curiosity, sinking further into the chair.

“Good boy,” Lyra taunted, and Gortash’s glare was sharp in response. He hated being played with, or so he claimed. Lyra knew how hard his cock became when she riled him up, and she intended to have him particularly aggravated this evening.

She turned her back to him and began cutting the laces on the back of her dress one by one with the knife she had held to his throat earlier. When they had all been sliced open, she set the knife on the nearby table next to the discarded wine bottle. She swayed her hips, encouraging the dress to languidly slide off of her body, slowly revealing the expanse of her back and her ass covered only in her smallclothes, before finally cascading down her legs to pool at her feet.

She stepped back to move out of the dress, bending over to pick up the fabric. Glancing over her shoulder, she caught Gortash’s eyes glued to her ass, his mouth open slightly in heavy, quick breaths. She smirked as she tossed the dress behind her to land on him before turning her head back forward, laughing as she heard his growl and the flutter of fabric as he threw it once again to the floor. Any annoyance he may have had melted when she immediately slipped her fingers inside the band of her smallclothes, pulling them over her hips ever so slightly but not fully revealing herself. Not yet.

“Touch yourself,” she commanded, still playing with the fabric at her hips. She felt the air electrify, immediately filling with tension as her audience fought between seeking release and obeying the command of another. She sweetened the deal, bending over once again to remove her smallclothes and fully reveal her ass to him. She swayed her hips for a moment, bending even further forward to flash her cunt, which was already beginning to glisten.

“Lyra-“ he delivered his best attempt at a warning, though it was heavily marred by the strain in his voice.

“Touch. Yourself.” She commanded again, straightening up and looking back over her shoulder. This time, he obeyed, slipping a hand under his waistband. She watched just long enough to see his cock come free before turning forward again, satisfied. Her hands came up to tangle in her hair, slowly undoing the bun atop her head before it gave way to a beautiful waterfall.

Finally, she turned to face him.

Gortash was a man destroyed. He had sunk even further into the chair, hair a wreck from sliding against the back. His eyes were dark, and his mouth still hung open in heavy pants that matched the rapid rise and fall of his hair-dusted chest, even more exposed now from the loosened laces of his shirt. One hand fiercely gripped the arm of the chair, while his other gauntleted hand wrapped tightly around his heavy, thick cock. He stroked himself slowly, with as much restraint as possible, but his glistening tip betrayed his urgent need.

Lyra wanted to sink to her knees before him, to take him in her mouth and swirl her tongue over every last drop of that need. She wanted to let him fill her and fuck her throat raw, wanted to be buried against the trail of hair on his stomach while she gagged around his cock, her nails digging crescents into his hips as her vision darkened. She wanted to suck at his heavy sack and service every inch of him – to run her tongue along his shaft, kiss up his stomach, splay her fingers across that wonderful chest. Beautiful. He was absolutely beautiful, and she wanted to be completely lost in those deep, black eyes.

His eyes. She snapped out of her fantasy when she realized she had been staring – completely lost in his gaze. It was crushingly intimate, holding his stare while he worked himself, her body laid completely bare to him, both of them imagining what was to come. Too intimate, and her fantasies of submission and admiration had Lyra scrambling for a moment. She sought escape, breaking their eye contact to turn her head to the table next to her, where her knife still rested next to the wine bottle.

Seeking to distract herself, and perhaps ease her nerves, she swiftly opened the wine bottle with her knife and brought the rim to her lips, drinking deeply. Her eyes flashed back to Gortash, who still watched her, entranced. She smirked, a delicious thought swimming into her mind as she allowed some wine to spill from her mouth, staining her neck as the liquid ran towards her breasts. Enjoying the sensation, she tilted the bottle further, spilling more down her body. A lewd moan escaped the lord’s lips as her eyes fluttered shut.

The wine was warm and sticky, and it was easy to imagine that it was his blood. She reveled in the image of her skin streaking red with him. She wanted to be stained by him, to empty his veins and douse herself in his life. She released the bottle without thinking and it fell to the floor with a shatter. Unphased, she began running her hands all over her body, one smoothly relishing the liquid while the other dragged the tip of her knife over her skin. She would cut him and bleed him and hold him close, allowing him to empty himself onto her. She would plunge her knife into her own body, opening it wide so that he may spill inside. They would be closer than any mortals could ever be, drinking from each other to forever become one before the darkness consumed them eternally.

She gasped as her knife cut into her skin just below her collarbone, the sensation bringing her back to reality. A bolt of panic momentarily shot through her as she snapped her eyes open in search of the lord, fearful that her dreaded daydream may have been all too real. She met his stare, but instead of relief, she was filled with surprise. His face was soft, brows lightly furrowed, eyes wide and excruciatingly sincere. He gazed at her in absolute reverence.

And then, he did something truly wretched and unforgivable.

“Lyra,” he called her name like a prayer.

She was on him in an instant. She straddled him, grinding her cunt against the length of his cock as their mouths met in a desperately furious kiss, hoping the violence of it could drown their worship of each other. His hands came to rest on her thighs, holding her in place as if he was scared she would run away. He had no idea how completely she belonged to him in that moment, and for once, she did not care if she was answering his prayer with her own or if she was smothering his cry, the gods could reprimand her another day.

She sank her knife into the back of the chair just above his head, the sound of slicing fabric grabbing his attention and momentarily halting their kiss. Her hands floated down to gently cup his face as she whispered softly against his lips.

“Make it hurt.”

And he did. His gauntlets immediately dug into her as his mouth crashed back onto hers, forcing his way inside and claiming her with his tongue. He bit at her lip as she felt the tips of his talons break her skin, the delicious sensation running down her thighs in his wake. She frowned as the pressure of one hand disappeared, only to moan against him when she felt him line himself up with her entrance.

He wasted no time plunging his cock inside her, both of them already wet with need. He set a brutal pace, using his grip on her thighs to bounce her atop him, taking all of him again and again. She gasped each time he bottomed out, indulging in the delicious drag of his head against her walls.

His mouth dipped to latch onto her neck, sucking the tender skin underneath her jaw until it was sore. The rivers of wine that still streaked down her body led him lower, his tongue hungrily following their path until he stopped at her collarbone where she had cut herself. Here, he flattened his tongue further and lapped at the cut savagely, drinking in the heady mix of blood and wine. She moaned at the sensation and felt a satisfied growl leave him in response.

“You sound like a whore,” his low, rumbling voice sent vibrations across her collarbone. She breathed in sharply to collect herself, opening her mouth to quip back at him.

Her words died in her throat, replaced by a choked cry as one of his hands came harshly down on her ass. His other hand grasped the back of her neck, forcefully holding her in place as he brought them back face-to-face. His mouth hovered just in front of her own.

“You sound like a whore,” he repeated as he slapped her ass again, the sound echoing in the room, “so I’ll fuck you like one.”

She whimpered and strained against his grasp in an attempt to kiss him again, which only earned her another stinging strike. Another cry left her mouth, and she noticed his parted lips eager to drink in her sounds, collecting them after their journey across the small gap between their bodies.

She gasped into his mouth as another slap fell across her ass, and she could feel welts rising. She brought her hands to rest atop his chest for balance against the force of his strikes, which he allowed. Her fingers snaked through the loose laces of his shirt, brushing against the hair on his solid chest. She wanted his shirt off, wanted to drag her nails across his chest and feel him arch into her touch.

She whined to communicate her need, but he swiftly turned it into another cry with one last slap against her ass. She felt his fingers curl into her raw skin as he fucked up into her with renewed vigor. Her own hands fisted into balls, grasping at his shirt. He chuckled breathlessly as the hand on the back of her neck came to roughly grab her jaw.

“Does my whore need something?” he taunted as he continued his thrusts. She whimpered as she further tightened her firsts around the fabric of his shirt.

“Have you been struck dumb? Use your words,” he cruelly commanded with a shake of her jaw, but his own pace betrayed him, hips beginning to stutter. A smirk spread across Lyra’s face faster than he could react.

“I didn’t think you’d finish so quickly, my lord,” she whispered dangerously. A thrill sparked within her when his hand left her jaw to slap her across her face, eliciting exactly the response she wanted.

In an instant, he lifted her off his cock and shoved her to the ground, her head hitting the floor with a blissful crack that turned her vision dark for a moment.

“Ungrateful beast,” his voice was harsh, but when her eyes flickered back to him, he was hastily removing his clothes until all that remained was his gauntlet. He was quick to lean over her, that same gauntleted hand wrapping around her throat and squeezing.

“You scorn my invitation and then disrupt my evening,” he sneered, “You came here tonight like a pathetic bitch in heat, desperately crawling for my cock. So, you will take what I give you, and you will be thankful. Do you understand?”

She smiled smugly, and he squeezed harder. Instinctively, both of her hands came to wrap around his wrist.

“Continue this, go right ahead,” he learned in to speak against her ear, “I’ll keep squeezing until you go limp. You’ll be much more pleasant then.”

The idea of letting Enver Gortash drain the life from her set her ablaze. He so rarely indulged his wrath nowadays, preferring to scheme and trap and lead his enemies to their untimely demise. More befitting of a lord, he had explained once. But his hands were far from clean - strong and rough from a lifetime that had been at odds with his current station, decorated with scars from his inventions. Lyra had known him long enough to have the privilege of witnessing a few rare, cherished moments where he had snapped, someone having elicited enough of his ire to make him dirty his own hands with pleasure.

She wished he would now. He was the only person in the world she trusted to destroy her. In truth, Lyra was exhausted from a lifetime of being wielded as her father’s weapon, and her twisted heart found solace in the fantasy of release. She yearned for the lord to end her before she had to end him.

But today was not that day.

She rolled her hips up into him in a sign of compliance, unable to speak due to the pressure on her neck. He smirked.

“There now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” he slid his hand from her neck to trail down her body. Both hands came to her legs, slowly spreading her apart to allow him to drink in the sight of her cunt.

He let out a shaky breath as his cock twitched. He glided himself through her folds once, twice, before finally sinking back into her, leaning over to reclaim her lips with his own. Their tongues danced with each other, matching the roll of his hips as their joining became increasingly more frantic.

“Hells,” he broke their kiss with a snarl, burying his face in her neck as he picked up his pace. She raked her nails down his back and hiked her legs up higher, allowing him to sink even deeper and ripping an appreciative groan from his throat.

“That’s my woman,” he growled, biting and sucking at her pulse. The intimate, possessive praise made her shudder, her mind threatening to go white. One of her hands ran down to grab his ass as he pounded into her, silently begging him to go harder, to claim her.

The new angle was heavenly, repeatedly making him hit the sweet spot inside her, his balls slapping against her ass. She was smothered under his weight as he drilled into her, his hand coming back up to shove two fingers into her mouth. She sucked on them happily, salivating at the thought of biting them off and drawing sweet screams from his lips.

No – no. She did not want him to scream. In truth, she did not want to hurt him at all, and wasn’t that just the beginning and end of everything? Her Urge was lulled by the rock of his body, and her eyes closed as she allowed herself sanctuary in the only place she could ever forget herself.

Here, she was not a weapon. Here, underneath him, she was free to indulge in the pleasures of life, not death. The way his breath quickened, the aching throb of her heightened pulse, the rough drag of his chest against her own. His hot breath on her neck, the stretch of her cunt around his cock, his soft sounds of pleasure against her skin as he sought his release.

Gods be damned, she was his.

He must have sensed her tightening coil, pulling his fingers from her mouth and bringing them to rub firm circles against her clit. She gasped, body arching into his as her hand left his ass to tangle in his hair. He hissed as she tightened her grasp, clinging to him for purchase as her body tightened in ecstasy.

She trembled, and she distantly heard him curse as he fucked her through her climax. She felt him raise himself up on his arms just enough to look at her as his hips began to falter. Her eyes fluttered open to meet his, raw and desperate. Perhaps foolishly, she allowed herself to give him a moment of softness, sliding her hand down from his hair to caress his cheek.

“Enver.”

His forehead met her own as he came with a gasp, spilling into her cunt. He shuddered over her, powerful aftershocks rocking them both. In his own betrayal of intimacy, he pressed a kiss to her forehead before catching himself, moving to capture her lips in a sloppy kiss. He collapsed on top of her, spent, and moved to bury his face into her neck again as their breathing slowly regulated.

Lyra stared at the ceiling as she traced circles against his back, a new pang settling deep within her. She wanted to guide his hands as he cracked her chest open and let him tear out her heart. It was already his, and it would destroy her.

She was torn from her thoughts by the tickle of words against her skin, pulling a surprised laugh from her.

“What?” she angled her head down to speak to the menace at her throat. She could feel his smug smile before she saw it as he lifted himself back up on his arms, pausing to first brush a strand of hair from her face.

“I said, I knew you’d look good in that dress.”

#enver gortash #the dark urge #bg3 #durge #durgetash #fic #smut #flymmsy writes #flymmsy writes durgetash

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