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ninisdollie · 29 days ago

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Like an angel - Lee Heeseung 𓈒ིུ ❤︎

‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

“In which Heeseung is obsessed with his sweet, innocent, shy sister’s best friend, and not in a healthy way.”

‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ❤︎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⊹　₊ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ͏͏✧ Content: +18MDNI

fem! reader x heeseung, age gap ( reader is 18+ heeseung is in his 20s), reader is hyper feminine, corruption kink, a bit of manipulation, reader is naive, dom! heeseung, masturbation (f and m), fingering, thigh grinding, dry humping, phone sex, dirty talking, virginity loss, unprotected sex, breeding kink, overstimulation, after care!!

word count: 13.8k

Warning: So this is my first “dark” themed fic, as I said it has corruption kink and heeseung is kind of a red flag in here, there is an age gap but both reader and heeseung are adults, and as always even if it is kind of a dark theme I must clarify that everything that happens is consensual.

Hate comments will be deleted and blocked, likes and reblog are appreciated !!

It was all harmless.

At least, that’s what Heeseung told himself when he’d catch his eyes following you around the house. It was innocent at first, curiosity, maybe. You were always there, practically glued to his sister’s side, her new best friend that had just moved to town for your first year of college, fluttering around the kitchen like a little innocent lamb in soft skirts and cotton knee socks, humming Taylor Swift songs and talking about 90’s romcoms, whispering secrets and giggling into your hands like life was nothing but sweet, soft cotton candy.

You were a good girl. The kind of girl who asked before taking the last slice of pizza. The kind who apologized when she bumped into furniture. The kind of girl that went to church with her parents every Sunday. The kind of girl that always said “Please” and “Thank you”. The kind of girl that blushed every time she saw a shirtless man in some tv add. The kind who still said “freaking” instead of swearing.

He shouldn’t have wanted you.

You were his sister’s best friend. You were younger. Inexperienced, naive. Pretty in a way that was accidental. The kind of pretty that didn’t even know it was driving him crazy. With your perfect hair, your perfect posture and your perfect body. Too polished, too perfect, too easy to ruin. And God, if there was one thing Heeseung had always been good at, it was self-control. He prided himself on it. But the thing about you was… you made it hard. Really fucking hard.

You were around too often. At first just after school, but then it turned into weekends. Study sessions, movie nights, sleepovers. You’d flit around his house in oversized sweaters and tiny shorts, and pink hair clips, leaving behind the soft scent of shampoo and vanilla lip gloss and something else that smelled like innocence and drove him crazy.

Heeseung would find himself in the doorway, watching you from the shadows like a man possessed. The curve of your thighs when you sat crisscrossed on the rug. The slope of your neck when you tilted your head to listen. The way you bit the tip of your straw when you were focused on homework. The way you batted your eyelashes. The way your perfect smile appeared on your beautiful lips when someone said something silly. The way you bent over to pet his dog saying “Aren’t you the cutest thing in the world?” All of it so innocent. So unaware.

And he hated you for it.

Or maybe he hated himself, for wanting to be the one to take it all away.

He told himself it would pass. That the obsession was just a phase, something he could shake off with enough cold showers and pornography and distraction. But it got worse. So much worse. Because you had a way of saying things, softly, like they didn’t mean anything, that drove him absolutely fucking wild.

Like one afternoon in the living room.

The sunlight filtered through the curtains, falling on your hair like a halo. You were lounging on the couch beside his sister, legs tucked under your dress, fingers playing with the hem absentmindedly. The neckline was loose again, kept slipping off your shoulder like it wanted to tempt someone.

Heeseung leaned in the doorway, a drink in his hand and hell in his chest. Watching.

You were mid-conversation, talking in that dreamy, soft voice you always used when you were lost in thought, completely unaware of how dangerous your presence was.

“I just…” You hesitated, then let out a small, shy laugh. “I just don’t want it to be… rough, you know? Or rushed. I want someone who’s gonna take their time with me.”

His sister groaned.

“You’re too romantic. That stuff never happens in real life.”

You shrugged a little, pouting.

“But it should. Like… it’s kind of sacred, isn’t it? Giving yourself to someone? It should be with someone patient. Someone who wants to make it feel good. Not just… do it and leave.”

Heeseung’s fingers tightened so hard around the glass he was holding, he thought it might crack.

Your voice dropped a little, shy.

“And I know it’s probably gonna hurt at first. I’ve never even touched myself before. But if they’re gentle… I think it could be really special.”

His sister rolled her eyes.

“You sound like a nun.”

“I went to Catholic school!” you giggled.

And that was the worst part. You weren’t playing, you weren’t flirting. You were being honest.

You had no idea what your words were doing to him.

Heeseung swallowed thickly, his mind unraveling. Every syllable was like fuel on fire. If they’re gentle… if they take their time… if it doesn’t hurt.

He would be so good to you.

Not because he was good. But because you deserved softness even in your undoing.

He’d make you cry, but from pleasure. From overstimulation. From the way it would feel to finally be touched. He stared at you, jaw tight, breathing shallow, thoughts spiraling darker by the second.

You were too pure to understand. Too naive to know how badly someone like him could ruin you.

And still you kept talking, lips forming words like slow and careful and first time, with your legs tucked up in that little dress, skin glowing under the sunlight, and your voice all gentle like you didn’t just push him closer to the edge of insanity.

Heeseung turned away before he could do something stupid.

He’d take your purity. Your faith. Your wide-eyed, good girl trust.

And you’d thank him for it. Eventually.

Heeseung had always been patient. But with you?

He was starting to lose it.

You always liked Heeseung.

He was… sweet. That’s the word you always used to describe him when his name came up. Sweet in a quiet, almost grown-up way.

He didn’t talk as much as your other friends’ brothers. He wasn’t loud or annoying or rude. He never made fun of you the way some older boys did for being a little dumb and not knowing about sports or video games. Heeseung always just smiled at you gently, nodding when you greeted him, letting you pass through doorways first. He was respectful. Kind.

He made you a cup of warm milk once, when you couldn’t sleep during a sleepover. Brought it to you with honey and cookies, placed it right in your hands with a soft, “Don’t burn your tongue.” And your heart fluttered just a little. Because not many boys talked to you like that, gentle, patient, almost protective.

You chalked it up to him being older. More mature.

You liked being around him, even if you didn’t know him that well. There was something about his presence that made you feel… safe. Watched, maybe. But not in a bad way. You were never afraid of him. If anything, you liked when he looked at you. He had these eyes. Dark and deep and a little tired sometimes, like he didn’t sleep enough. But when they landed on you, you felt warm all over, like being wrapped in a blanket straight from the dryer. It made your cheeks burn, but you always looked away quickly, unsure if you were imagining it.

You didn’t think he really noticed you. Not like that.

Why would he?

You were… just you. Sweet, shy, quiet. Not bold or sexy like the girls you’d seen hanging around guys like him. You wore cardigans and ballet flats and tried not to say the wrong thing. You blushed too easily. You still slept with a ton of stuffed animals. You still wandered around at Miniso for too long and got excited about Sanrio blind boxes. You went to church and attended bible study. You liked sugary pop and romantic movies. And you believed—genuinely—that waiting for marriage was the right thing. Your parents had raised you that way, and you still held onto it, even when your friends laughed or called it old-fashioned.

It was something special. And you wanted to give it to someone who saw it that way too.

Sometimes—only sometimes—you’d wonder what Heeseung thought about things like that. If he was the kind of guy who’d understand. But then you’d shake the thought off, cheeks burning, because what were you even thinking? Heeseung was nice, sure, but he was also older. Experienced. And incredibly handsome, one of the most handsome boys you’d ever known. With his beautiful hair and that knee-dropping smile and he always smelled so manly and expensive. He probably dated girls who wore lingerie and knew what they were doing. Not girls like you.

Still… sometimes when you caught him looking at you, it made your stomach do this weird little flip.

Once, you dropped your lip gloss cap on the kitchen floor, and before you could bend to pick it up, he was already there, crouched in front of you, holding it out with two fingers and a soft little smirk.

“Careful,” he murmured, voice low and warm. “I know these are expensive”

Your face got so hot you had to excuse yourself. You told yourself it didn’t mean anything.

Because Heeseung was sweet. That was all. He was just nice to you.

He wasn’t expecting you to be there.

He’d just come back from a long afternoon playing soccer with his friends, sweaty, mildly irritated from traffic, and ready to collapse in his room. But the second he walked through the door, he heard the sliding glass door to the backyard open, followed by high-pitched laughter. His sister.

And then yours.

He paused in the hallway.

And when he looked through the kitchen window, when he saw you lying there in the sun like some kind of clueless daydream, all soft skin and sunkissed glow, he nearly dropped his keys.

You were wearing a bikini.

It wasn’t even that revealing, he could admit that. It was light blue, maybe a little frilly, definitely conservative by most standards. You weren’t trying to show anything off. You were stretched out on a towel beside his sister, sipping something cold through a straw, big sunglasses covering your eyes, your hair pulled back in a lazy ponytail that exposed the delicate line of your neck. The fabric clung to your chest, modest but tight. Your stomach was bare, soft, smooth, glowing in the late afternoon sun. Your legs stretched out forever, the curve of your thighs making his throat go dry. And when you shifted onto your side, he saw the way the bottoms hugged your hips and your ass and he had to grip the edge of the counter just to stay put.

Fuck.

You had no idea.You probably didn’t even think about him seeing you like that. You’d just smiled and slipped into your little bikini, completely unaware that you’d just become the centerpiece of every filthy thought he’d been trying to suppress for weeks.

He watched the way you laughed at something his sister said, the way you tucked your legs beneath you and took another sip of your drink, lips wrapping around the straw like it was nothing. Like you weren’t killing him.

Then, as if you could feel his eyes on you, you sat up and turned toward the house.

And you waved at him. Big smile. Sunglasses pushed up onto your head. Completely innocent.

“Oh, he’s here, hi Hee!”

He felt something snap in his chest.

He nodded, barely managing a stiff wave back before forcing himself away from the window. He stalked up the stairs to his room like a man on fire, slamming the door shut behind him and bracing his palms against it, chest heaving.

He could still see you. In his mind. Burned behind his eyelids. That soft stomach. That sweet, pretty smile. That perfect body he so wanted to ruin. Those lips wrapped around a straw like you didn’t even know what that did to him.

You were so fucking innocent. And he was losing it.

Heeseung shut his eyes, let his head fall back against the door, and pulled his pants down, his cock was already rock-hard beneath his boxers, and he wasted no time in stroking himself fast, desperate. He pictured you in his mind as his hand moved mercilessly, how you’d looked all bathed in his cum, how you’d look crying around him, how soft and warm and wet you’d feel around him, how he’d teach you, how a girl like you must be treated, and how you would say, with your velvet, sweet like honey voice “Thank you, Hee.”

He didn’t just wanted to ruin you, he wanted to own you. He wanted to take every last small piece of innocence from you until you were completely his. He wanted to hold you. For him to use whenever he wanted to.

He came on his hand incredibly hard, and embarrassingly fast, staining his jeans and the floor with his release. His chest heaving, your name still itching on his tongue.

“She doesn’t even know what she’s doing…”

But God, did he want to be the one to show you.

Later that same day, when you stepped into the kitchen that afternoon to get some water, wrapped in a towel over your damp bikini, and found him standing at the counter, you smiled.

“Oh—sorry, I didn’t know anyone was in here,” you said shyly, adjusting the towel at your chest.

He turned to you slowly, and his smile was warm. Soft. The kind that made your stomach feel a little fluttery.

“It’s your house too,” he said casually, gesturing toward the fridge. “Want me to get that for you?”

“Oh, it’s okay—”

But he was already moving, opening the door, grabbing a cold bottle and uncapping it before gently placing it in your hand.

“Hydration’s important,” he teased, tapping the top of the bottle before stepping back, letting you pass.

You giggled, tucking your chin down.

“Thank you.”

“You’re always so polite,” he said, still smiling, leaning against the counter now. “My sister could learn a thing or two from you.”

Your cheeks heated instantly. You ducked your head.

“I just… I don’t wanna be a bother.”

“You’re not,” he said. And then, quieter—“You never are.”

Something about the way he said it made your heart squeeze. He wasn’t teasing. His voice was steady, sincere. His eyes met yours without flinching.

You took a sip of water to distract yourself, but your hands were a little shaky.

“You’re really sweet,” you blurted, before you could stop yourself. “I mean—you’re always so nice to me. I just… I notice.”

His mouth curved slowly into something that made your breath catch.

“I’m just being honest,” he said. “I think you deserve to have people be nice to you.”

There was something in the way he said it. Something that made your chest feel full and your skin feel warm.

“I’m really glad you’re around,” you whispered, more to your water bottle than to him.

And Heeseung’s gaze darkened, just for a split second, before it softened again.

“I’m glad you’re around too,” he said gently. “You’re… special.”

You looked up at him, heart thudding. The way he said that word—special—like it meant something deeper. Like it mattered.

You didn’t know he was watching your every micro-expression. That behind the kind smile, his mind was already several steps ahead. That every sweet thing he said was planting seeds, pulling you closer, curling you around his finger one word at a time.

You just thought he was being kind.

You didn’t know he was planning to own you.

“I don’t know… he’s just so nice,” you murmured, voice soft, cheeks warm as your fingers toyed nervously with the edge of your sleeve. “He’s really… gentle.”

Across the room, his sister raised an eyebrow as she leaned closer to her mirror, applying a coat of lip gloss with practiced precision.

“…Heeseung?”

You nodded shyly.

“Yeah. I know it probably sounds dumb, but… he always opens doors for me. And he brings me stuff without me even asking. He’s just really… sweet.”

You didn’t see the way her expression shifted, a flicker of something unreadable crossed her face as she capped the gloss and turned toward you, arms crossed, hip resting against her dresser.

“I mean… he can be sweet,” she said, slowly. Carefully.

Your brows pinched.

“Can be?”

She shrugged, casual but a little too measured.

“He’s nice to you. That’s different.”

You propped yourself up on your elbows, blinking.

“What do you mean?”

She hesitated, then crossed the room and dropped beside you on the bed, the mattress dipping beneath her. Her expression wasn’t suspicious, not accusing. Just… protective. Like she knew something you didn’t, and wasn’t sure if she should say it.

“I love my brother,” she started, her voice lighter now, like she didn’t want to make this a big deal. “But Heeseung’s not exactly… boyfriend material.”

Your heart skipped.

“He’s always been kind of a flirt,” she continued. “Girls fall for him constantly, and… he lets them. He’s a playboy, he uses them and discards them. He’s broken like more than 20 hearts I’m pretty sure. Plus, he only dates extremely sexual girls, I used to hear them every night, it was traumatising.”

You stayed quiet. Your fingers stilled on your sleeve. There was a tightness in your chest you didn’t quite understand.

“But…” you said slowly, “I don’t think he’s like that with me.”

“No,” she agreed quickly. “He’s not.”

You looked up at her.

She gave you a small smile.

“Because you’re you. You’re not like the girls he usually talks to. You’re… innocent. You’re cute and soft and blush at Calvin Klein ads”

The word lingered in the air between you. Innocent. Like it meant something heavier than just naïve. Like it was a reason.

Your throat felt tight.

“So… you think he’s pretending?”

“I don’t think he’s evil,” she said with a sigh, leaning back on her palms. “I just think Heeseung knows how to get people to like him. He’s smart. Charming. And really good at making you feel… special.”

You swallowed, blinking down at the soft bedspread beneath your hands. Something about those words unsettled you. You weren’t sure if it was the warning in her tone or the echo of your own thoughts that scared you more.

Because Heeseung did make you feel special.

“He just…” Your voice was barely audible now. “He makes me feel safe.”

She let out a small laugh, that meant more than it let on.

“Yeah. That’s kind of his thing.”

You looked away, pretending to smooth the fabric on the bed, but your mind was somewhere else entirely, playing back all the soft smiles, the thoughtful gestures, the way his eyes always found you when you entered a room.

Maybe you were being stupid.

But maybe… it didn’t matter.

Because you were already falling.

Your parents were on a business trip that weekend so you spent over your best friends house, the perfect excuse for sleepover and watching movies until five a.m. But that afternoon your best friend had to go to cheerleading practice, you wanted to be a part of the team too, but your parents didn’t let you, saying that the skirts were too short and the dances inappropriate. So you stayed in her house, it wasn’t a big deal, you’d done it a few times before. But the thing his, her parents weren’t home either, too busy with work, and Heeseung was the only one at home.

He was still asleep, probably hangover from a party. So you made yourself a smoothie and sat on the couch with a Pride and Prejudice copy on your lap, enjoying the sunlit, quiet day.

It was like that for a couple of hours, and then he woke up.

Heeseung watched you from the hallway for a full minute before stepping inside.

You were curled up on the couch, legs tucked beneath you, flipping through some paperback with a pink cover, all soft focus and innocence. Your hair was damp from a shower. Skin dewy. That same oversized hoodie still clinging to your thighs, his sister’s, probably, but it looked better on you.

And he saw an opportunity too.

He made sure to keep his steps light as he entered the room, careful not to startle you.

“Hey, angel,” he said, low and gentle.

You looked up and smiled immediately, same sweetness as always. His eyes were a little baggy, his face a little red and his hair messy, he was wearing a black hoodie and grey sweatpants, and he still looked so handsome. Even after a probably wild night.

“Hi, Hee.”

He said your name next, soft and drawn out. Like it was something he could taste.

You straightened a little, even though your posture was always perfect.

“You want the couch?”

“No,” he said, already settling beside you. “Just wanted to sit with you.”

You flushed at that. He noticed.

He always noticed.

He didn’t look at you right away. He leaned back, spreading his legs slightly, letting the silence stretch while you tried to focus on your book again. He could feel the heat from your thigh next to his, and every so often, your knee would brush his leg as you shifted.

After a few minutes, he let himself sigh. Low. Tired. Like he needed something.

You glanced at him.

“Rough night?” you asked, a bit teasing.

“Just long, had too many drinks, my heads spinning” he replied, then tilted his head toward you, eyes half-lidded. “But this helps.”

You blinked.

“Me?”

He nodded, slow.

“Yeah. You’re easy to be around. You make things quiet.”

That made you smile shyly, and he reached out—carefully—to brush a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

Your breath hitched. Just a little.

“You’re so sweet,” he murmured, voice so low almost like a whisper“I don’t think you even know what you do to people.”

Your eyes widened slightly, and he backtracked with a soft chuckle, tapping the book in your lap.

“I mean that in a good way,” he added. “You just… calm people. Make them feel safe.”

You laughed softly, clearly flustered.

“That’s a nice thing to say.”

Heeseung hummed, and then, slowly—so slowly—he rested his hand on your bare knee.

You didn’t move. You didn’t say anything.

It was barely a touch. Just his palm resting there. Heavy, warm and possessive. You looked down at it, lips parted slightly, as if you weren’t sure what to think. But you didn’t pull away. You just blinked at him.

And he smiled.

“You’re okay with this, right?” he asked, voice velvet. “Just friends being close?”

You nodded, a little too quickly.

“Yeah… I don’t mind.”

Of course you didn’t. You didn’t even realize he’d done it on purpose. That the contact had nothing to do with comfort and everything to do with pushing you one step closer to breaking.

His thumb stroked a lazy circle against your skin, and you felt it jump, every pore awake and too aware of his touch. No man had ever even touched your thigh like this, you wouldn’t have let them.

You squirmed slightly, then tucked your legs closer beneath you, but not away from him.

“You’re warm,” you murmured, face still red, eyes a little glassy.

Heeseung leaned in then, barely an inch. Just enough to let his breath brush your cheek.

“So are you,” he whispered.

Your lashes fluttered, and you swallowed hard, he was so close. Then he looked away and lazily grabbed the tv remote, but his hand didn’t leave your knee.

You tried to focus again on the words written on the pages and the conflicts between Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet, but you couldn’t. Because Heeseung kept touching you, even with his eyes glued to the basketball game on the tv.

He knew you wouldn’t ask him to move. So he pushed further. His fingers wandered, innocent at first, trailing along the hem of your shorts like he wasn’t doing anything at all. Like it wasn’t deliberate. Like it didn’t make your stomach twist in knots.

You stiffened when his pinky slipped beneath the fabric, resting against the bare skin of your inner thigh.

Still, he didn’t look at you. Not once. Not even when your breath caught or when your hips shifted the tiniest bit, involuntary. He just kept watching the game, one leg spread comfortably, like this was nothing new to him.

"You’re quiet,” he murmured after a minute, tongue wetting his lips slowly. “Something wrong?”

You blinked at the book in your lap, realizing you hadn’t flipped a page in ten minutes.

“No. I’m just… distracted.”

“Hm,” he hummed, his thumb now tracing lazy circles higher, barely grazing the sensitive skin that hadn’t been touched before. “You’re tense.”

You swallowed, shaking a bit.

“A little.”

“Don’t be,” Heeseung said, finally glancing at you with a calm, unreadable expression. “This is normal.”

Your brows pulled together.

“Normal?”

He nodded, his touch still featherlight, maddening.

“Yeah. Between friends. Friends touch like this.”

Your heart pounded in your chest. Heeseung, your best friend’s brother. Who always sat too close. Who looked at you too long. Who never touched you like this until today.

“Oh…” you said softly, chewing your lip. You hadn’t heard that before, but he sounded so sure. So calm. You didn’t want to seem weird or make it awkward. “Okay…”

His hand stayed there, warm and steady. His touch even gentler now, but it felt deeper. Like it was sinking into your skin, curling around your bones.

You shifted a little. Your thighs pressed together, but you didn’t move his hand.

Because even if you didn’t fully understand what was happening…

You liked it. More than you should.

And Heeseung could tell.

That’s why he leaned in closer, breath brushing your ear as he said quietly,

“See? Feels nice, doesn’t it?”

You didn’t answer him, but he could see it, in the way your lashes lowered, in the way your legs shifted just slightly, pressing together under his hand.

Heeseung smiled to himself.

“Feels good, right?” he murmured again, voice soft like he was talking you through something. “I told you. We are friends, we can be close like this.”

Your cheeks were burning now, but you still nodded. Slowly.

“Y-Yeah…”

“That’s my good girl,” he praised, barely above a whisper, and your stomach flipped. You didn’t know why that made you feel warm all over, but it did. Like honey spreading beneath your skin. Like heat blooming where his fingers rested. A sensation that you had only felt a very few times before when you accidentally opened an explicit link on the internet or when an intimate scene came by in a romance movie.

And then he moved.

Just a little. His hand inched up, fingers slipping further under the leg of your shorts. Still calm, still slow, like nothing was wrong. Like he wasn’t now brushing the softest, most sensitive part of your thigh. His knuckles grazed the edge of your underwear, against the lace of your white panties.

You inhaled sharply.

But Heeseung only tilted his head, glancing at you with those calm, dark eyes.

“You okay?” he asked, tone so gentle. So sweet.

You swallowed, fingers tightening around your book.

“I—I think so…”

He nodded like that was the right answer.

“You’re being really good. I’m proud of you.”

You blinked up at him, chest rising and falling faster now.

“Really…?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, and his fingers dipped lower, just enough to make you gasp, but not enough to give you anything. “You’re letting me take care of you. That’s what friends do, right?”

You bit your lip, trembling just slightly.

“I guess so…”

“You don’t have to think so hard,” he whispered, leaning in so close you could feel the smile in his voice. “Just let me do it for you. Let me make you feel good.”

You didn’t even notice your thighs falling open a little more. Like your body itself was responding to him. His smile deepened, just a twitch at the corner of his lips, barely there, but sharp. Like he was proud of himself. Proud of you.

"See?" he said, voice quiet and warm. "You’re relaxing already."

You nodded again, just to please him. Your brain was starting to blur around the edges, it was too much. His hand, his voice, the heat pulsing between your legs like it was begging him to go further.

Without warning, his fingers slipped under the waistband of your panties, knuckles grazing over soft, untouched skin.

You sucked in a sharp breath, hips flinching.

But he didn’t stop. Just kept going. Slowly. Carefully.

Like he’d done this a hundred times before.

Like this was routine.

Your whole body felt like it had been lit from the inside.

Heeseung’s fingers were slow, steady, gliding through your wetness, between your untouched folds, circling your clit with maddening patience. Every little movement sent electric shocks down your legs, curling your toes, making your stomach twist and tighten with something you didn’t know how to name.

You felt raw, sensitive. Ruined.

“Shhh,” he hushed gently, like he was calming you from a nightmare, not dragging you into the most sinful thing you’d ever felt. “It’s okay. It’s going to feel so nice, babygirl, I promise.”

Your eyes fluttered shut, lashes damp. You were so warm, too warm, your thighs twitching every time he brushed just right, you kept whimpering and letting out little sighs. Your knees had started to fall open for him without you realizing, your body seeking more without permission.

“You’re wet, sweetheart,” he whispered, voice low and full of something darker. His lips brushed your cheek, but his fingers brushed lower. “Is that for me?”

You whimpered, heart pounding. You felt humiliated, but you didn’t want him to stop. It was something you’d never felt before.

“I-I don’t know—”

“Yes, you do,” he said, firmer this time. And he pressed in deeper, one finger sliding slick and slow through you before circling your clit again, just soft enough to leave you aching.

Your legs jerked as you cried out. Your book slipped from your lap and hit the floor with a thud. But neither of you looked down.

Heeseung chuckled under his breath, mocking but sweet and kissed your cheek again.

“So cute.”

You were blinking rapidly, face flushed, skin hot all over.

This wasn’t what friends did. You’d never even imagined something like this, never touched yourself, never let anyone else touch you. You told yourself you were saving it. Waiting for marriage. But this… this didn’t feel like sin.

It felt like need.

“Is this really okay?” you asked, your voice a tiny breath.

Heeseung smiled against your skin.

“It is if you let me.”

And you did. Your hips tilted forward, small, instinctive, still not fully understanding what was happening and his brain snapped a little at the sight.

God, he’d waited so long.

Heeseung had thought about this more nights than he’d ever admit. Always quietly, always respectfully. He never wanted to scare you, not his sweet, shy girl with her soft laugh and her trembling hands. He never even touched you wrong.

But now that you were here, legs spread for him, cheeks red and mouth open, soaking his fingers, he didn’t think he’d survive letting go.

His thumb pressed a little harder, and you cried out, hips stuttering up into his hand. You were so responsive. So sensitive. Your body was practically begging.

“You feel that?” he murmured, brushing against your clit again and again. “That’s your body asking for more.”

You whimpered again. Your legs were shaking. You didn’t even realize how much your hips were grinding into his hand, only that it felt like bliss.

“Feels too good to stop now, doesn’t it?” Heeseung whispered.

You nodded, dazed, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes from sheer overload. From the combination of embarrassment and arousal.

“I’ll take care of you,” he said gently, like a promise. “Just let me make you feel good, baby. That’s all I want.”

Then his voice dipped, low and soft and dangerous:

“Been wanting this for so long… Wanting you like this. Spread out, sweet, dripping for me.”

You gasped, face crumbling, thighs twitching again as the pressure in your belly spiked.

Heeseung groaned, the sound rough and low in his throat. Then he slipped two fingers inside of you, and it burned so good. You felt yourself clench around him, soaked walls around his digits as he twisted his wrist and curled them inside of you touching something that made you cry again and jerk your hips up from the couch.

“There it is, look at you. So fucking beautiful like this. Don’t even know what you do to me.”

Between your hazy view you saw it, saw him. The bulge against the cotton of his sweatpants, thick and big and pulsing. But it was too much, your face became all red again and you closed your eyes again.

“I shouldn’t…” you whispered, more to yourself than him. Overwhelmed by the obscene sound coming out of you everytime his palm slammed against your pussy. Your eyes blinked through the haze, guilt pooling in your throat. “I—I’ve never even—”

Heeseung leaned in again, so warm and calm, like none of this fazed him. His free hand stroked your cheek gently, thumb brushing under your eye.

“I know,” he said softly, like he understood everything. “You’re a good girl. You wanted to be careful.”

You swallowed hard, blinking up at him. His voice, his fingers, the way he looked at you like you were something precious even while his touch made your head spin, it made your heart ache and your stomach twist all at once.

His fingers pushed in deeper, slow and steady, letting you feel every inch of it. Your back arched without thinking, your breath coming in soft, broken gasps. You could feel yourself dripping until you were soaking the couch beneath you.

“Oh, baby…” Heeseung cooed, the pad of his thumb still rubbing gentle circles over your clit. “You’re clenching so tight. Didn’t know you could feel this good, did you?”

You shook your head, face burning. Your thighs were twitching, your hips rolling into his hand like your body couldn’t help it.

“That’s okay,” he whispered, nuzzling his nose against your cheek, so soft it made your head spin. “That’s what I’m here for. To teach you. Help you. Good girls like you deserve to feel this good”

Another finger slipped in beside the first two, your walls stretching around him. Your jaw dropped, a helpless little moan spilling out, and he groaned, so quiet, but filthy.

“Shit. Listen to you. Didn’t even touch you like this before and already making those pretty noises,” he murmured, his voice like silk wrapped around sin. “So fucking sweet for me.”

You tried to cover your mouth, shame flooding through you, but he caught your wrist instantly, guiding it down.

“Don’t hide,” he said gently. “I like hearing you. That’s the whole point, baby. You’re doing so well.”

His fingers curled just right, pressing into that soft, spongy spot again, that made your legs jerk and a loud gasp break free from your throat. Your body was shaking now, breath ragged, and Heeseung only smiled, watching you unravel.

White heat bloomed low in your belly. Your breath came in short, choppy bursts, each one catching on the edge of a whimper. You couldn’t keep still, your hips were rocking up without permission, chasing the next touch, the next wave. You could feel yourself getting wetter, slick dripping down the backs of your thighs, sticking to your skin.

It was shameless. But you couldn’t care. You weren’t even thinking anymore. Not with the way he kept touching you like he’d done it a thousand times before, like he knew how to wring every little cry out of you.

"Feels good, doesn’t it?” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear like silk. “Letting someone take care of you like this?”

You nodded frantically, eyes glassy, mouth parted around a breathless gasp. Your hands gripped the couch cushion for something to anchor you, but it didn’t help. Everything felt like it was slipping, your thoughts, your morals, your control.

His fingers moved again, curling slow and deep, then sliding up to stroke over your clit with maddening tenderness.

Your back arched hard. You let out something between a sob and a moan.

Your body was buzzing, heat pulsing under your skin, your heartbeat hammering in your ears. Your nipples were tight, pressed against the fabric of your hoodie, overly sensitive even without being touched. You couldn’t even close your legs, your thighs trembled too much, weak and twitching, falling open for him again and again.

You were so close to something. So close it hurt.

And Heeseung just watched, mouth parted slightly, eyes dark, like he was watching his favorite thing in the world unfold.

“Look at you,” he murmured, thumb rolling lazy circles over your clit. “Falling apart so easy for me. You like this, baby?”

You whimpered.

“Y-Yeah… I can’t— it’s— it’s too—”

He kissed your cheek, your jaw, down the side of your neck.

“You can. I’ve got you,” he whispered, voice dripping with affection. “Just let it happen. Let me make you feel good.”

The pressure broke all at once.

You came with a cry, thighs snapping shut around his hand, body seizing and twitching. Your nails dug into the cushion, into his shoulder, whatever you could grab. It hit you hard, like heat and lightning bursting in your chest and spreading through your limbs.

You couldn’t stop moaning. Couldn’t stop trembling. You were sobbing quietly now, overwhelmed by how good it felt. How full. How perfect.

Heeseung held you through it, one arm wrapped around your back, the other between your legs, stroking you through every aftershock like he wanted to memorize the way you pulsed around his fingers.

You collapsed against him, body limp and slick with sweat.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered again, softer this time. “So perfect, sweetheart. So, so good.”

Heeseung settled between your legs, like a painter admiring his masterpiece, dragging your ruined panties down slowly, almost reverently. You squirmed a little bit, too sensitive, too gone. Your mind wasn’t working anymore, you felt ashamed, used, but also you felt released. Your chest was still heaving, still trying to catch your breath, your pussy pulsing and dripping.

“Look at this mess,” he murmured, holding the fabric up, sticky and soaked. “You came so hard, baby. All over my fingers. Didn’t even know your little pussy could do that, did you?”

You let out a choked gasp, hands flying up to cover your face.

He chuckled softly, spreading your thighs again.

“Uh-uh. No hiding. I made you feel good, didn’t I?”

You nodded slowly, not trusting your voice, still dizzy from how hard you'd come.

“Yeah?” He smiled, almost smug but still so sweet. “Then how do good girls respond when someone makes them feel good?”

You swallowed, heart skipping. His fingers brushed your inner thigh again, featherlight, reminding you who was in control. You hesitated, lips parting.

He clicked his tongue.

“C’mon, sweetheart. You can say it.”

Your voice was barely above a whisper.

“...Thank you.”

Heeseung’s eyes softened, his thumb stroking your skin with approval.

“There she is,” he said, praising you with a soft kiss to your cheek. “My good girl.”

Your cheeks burned hotter than ever. You were dripping, legs wide open with nothing to shield you but your shaking hands, and Heeseung just looked so calm. Like this wasn’t a big deal. Like seeing you like this was normal.

“I’ve barely touched you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your knee. “And already got you shy? Poor thing… You’re so fucking cute when you’re embarrassed.”

You whimpered behind your hands, thighs instinctively trying to close, but his palms held them open, firm but still gentle.

Then your phone buzzed somewhere on the couch.

You jolted, startled, blinking through the haze. Heeseung didn’t even flinch, just slid his hands up your thighs a little higher, thumbs brushing teasingly close again.

“I-I think that’s—” you tried to sit up, but he gently pushed you back down with a kiss to your inner thigh.

“Check it,” he said smoothly, but his eyes never left your soaked cunt.

Your fingers fumbled for the phone, brain still barely catching up, vision blurry as you unlocked it.

Bestie : omw back home now! be there in 10 🫶

Your heart nearly stopped.

“She’s coming back,” you gasped, sitting up fully now, panic blooming in your chest. “Heeseung, we have to—”

“Relax, angel” His voice was calm. Dangerous. Sweet.

He leaned in again, dragging his tongue slowly, deliberately, up your soaked folds. You cried out, half-shoving your phone aside as your body betrayed you, hips bucking into his mouth.

“She won’t be here for another ten,” he murmured, licking his lips like he was tasting something divine. “That’s enough time for me to make you come again.”

“But—”

“You’re already dripping,” he said, cutting you off with a filthy grin, fingers slipping back through your slick folds. “She’s not even here yet, and you’re still wide open for me. You want me to finish, don’t you?”

You whimpered, helpless.

“I-I don’t know if I can—”

“Oh, you can,” he said, and kissed your trembling thigh again, right beside the spot where his fingers were teasing you.

His thumb pressed against your clit just as two fingers slipped in again, easily this time, your soaked walls clenching down immediately.

Heeseung groaned low in his throat.

“Fuck. Still so tight.” He looked up at you, mouth wet, eyes dark with something wicked. “You don’t even know what you’re doing to me.”

You let out a soft cry, body arching into his touch.

And still, his voice was gentle. Loving.

“I’m gonna make you come again, sweetheart,” he whispered, thumb circling your clit faster now. “Nice and quick, right here on the couch, before she walks in and sees what a needy little mess you are for me.”

You were already close again. Too sensitive, too worked up, but it didn’t matter. Not with the way he was touching you. Not with how good he made it feel.

You could barely form a thought, let alone protest.

Your best friend would be home in minutes. But all you could think about was the burn in your belly, the ache between your legs, and her brother’s fingers stretching you open like they belonged there.

It had been a few days, and you couldn’t sleep.

You turned over in bed for what felt like the hundredth time, blankets twisted around your legs, skin damp from heat that had nothing to do with the weather. The open window let in a soft breeze, cool against your flushed skin, but it did nothing to calm you. You were too aware of your body. Too aware of the empty ache between your legs. Of what had happened.

And worse, how much you still wanted it to happen again.

Your phone sat face down on the nightstand. Quiet. Still. But you felt it like it was burning a hole beside you. Your best friend had texted earlier. A casual “You didn’t come over this weekend” with a sad face emoji that you couldn’t bring yourself to open.

You were supposed to wait.

You had told yourself that a hundred times. That no one would get to touch you like that, not unless you were in love. Not unless it was forever. You hadn’t even touched yourself before. That part of you was supposed to be sacred. Untouched. Yours.

And now?

Now you could still feel the echo of him between your thighs. His voice, low and sweet, telling you how good you were. How wet, how tight. You could still feel his fingers, slow and patient and deep, pushing you over the edge until you broke apart in his hands.

Your body ached at the memory, hot, needy, restless.

You pulled your knees up and pressed your thighs together, trying to fight it. But it was impossible. Everything throbbed. Everything missed him.

Tears pricked your eyes.

You hadn’t cried yet, not after it happened. You’d felt too dizzy, too shocked. But now, days later, it was crashing down all at once. The guilt. The shame. The confusing, gnawing want.

You wiped at your face, then hesitated. Your hand froze against your cheek.

You wanted to try.

Just once.

You bit your lip, heart hammering. You slid your fingers down slowly, uncertainly. Every part of you trembled. It felt wrong. But your body was already warm, already wet, as if it remembered what to expect. Your fingers grazed over your folds. Tentative, barely there.

You let out a breath, shaky, embarrassed. It didn’t feel bad, but it wasn’t right, either. It wasn’t him.

You tried again. Pressed down more, tried to mimic the slow circles Heeseung had made against your clit. Your legs twitched. Your stomach tensed. But the pleasure didn’t bloom, it stalled, stuck behind shame and frustration.

Heeseung had made you melt with nothing but his hands and a few filthy words. You couldn’t even make yourself moan.

Your hand fell away.

You turned your face into your pillow and finally let yourself cry.

You hated that he had that power now. That your body only responded to his touch, his voice, his praise.

You felt dirty. Ruined. A part of you wanted to scrub yourself clean, erase every second of that afternoon on the couch. But another part, the darker, hungrier part, wanted him back between your legs. Whispering in your ear. Telling you how good you were when you couldn’t even think straight.

You curled up tighter under the blankets, fingers trembling, your thighs still sticky and warm with need. You had never felt so empty.

And it terrified you to realize:

You didn’t want to be pure anymore.

You just wanted him.

Heeseung wasn’t going to stop now. No, he waited so long for this, and since he broke you only with his fingers, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you. It was worse than before. Maybe it was wrong, maybe he shouldn’t be using you like this, but the worst part of all, is that he knew that you would fall apart the next time he put his hands on you, that you won’t stop him, because thing with innocent, pure girls like you, is that once you tasted a bit of sin, you would become addict.

You’d been quieter than before, this weekend you were staying over again, and you had been avoiding eye contact all day, just shyly munching on a pizza slice while his sister talked about some school drama, and every time your gaze locked with his for even just a few little seconds, you blushed and looked away instantly.

But he noticed.

The way you were clenching your thighs together under the table, the way you were nervously biting your lip until it was red and swollen, the way your eyes turned glassy.

You wanted more, you were just too shy to admit.

So he was going to push.

That’s why, later that night when you walked to the kitchen to get a glass of water in the middle of the night, he was already there.

You froze in the doorway.

The kitchen light was off, but the fridge door was open, the dim white glow across the room. Heeseung stood in front of it, shirtless, the lines of his back and shoulders lit in sharp contrast, shadows painting him like something unreal. He turned his head just slightly, already knowing it was you.

“Couldn’t sleep, angel?” His voice was quiet, low.

You hesitated. Your bare feet curled against the cold tile.

“...Just thirsty.”

Heeseung turned around slowly, closing the fridge door with one hand. In the silence that followed, your pulse pounded in your ears. He was so close. The kitchen was so small. You could smell his skin, clean, warm, manly. Him.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” He leaned against the counter, arms crossed, voice calm. Almost teasing. “I’m hurt.”

You almost stopped breathing.

“I haven’t—”

“You have.” He smiled a little, tilting his head. “Barely looked at me all day. Not even when I sat next to you. Not even when I cut a slice of pizza for you.”

Your eyes dropped instantly, heart fluttering like it always did when he spoke like that, low and sure, like he already knew what you were thinking.

“I was just... distracted” you said weakly.

He didn’t buy it.

“Is that why you’re walking around with those pretty thighs clenched tight all day?” He moved closer, so close your back bumped the edge of the counter. His hand came up, just ghosting your arm. “That why you haven’t said a word to me since I made you cum like a good girl?”

Your breath shuddered out of you.

“Heeseung…”

“I think you want more,” he murmured, voice dropping just for you. “But you’re too shy to ask.”

Your skin lit up everywhere he hovered. You couldn’t meet his gaze, couldn’t speak, because it was true. You’d been thinking about it since it happened, his touch, his voice, the way he made you feel like you were unraveling just from his fingers. You tried not to want it again. Tried to forget.

But your body hadn’t forgotten.

Heeseung leaned in, one hand resting beside your head on the counter, boxing you in.

“I bet you even tried to touch yourself, didn’t you?”

You inhaled sharply.

“I bet it didn’t work,” he continued, brushing his nose against your temple. “I bet you got frustrated and teary, all needy and messy, because it wasn’t me.”

You felt the air leave your lungs.

“How’d you feel, baby?” he whispered. “All alone in your bed, fingers not doing what you needed? Thinking about me instead?”

You let out a small, wrecked sound, and he smirked.

“I knew it,” he said, dragging one finger slowly down your bare arm. “You were so good before, so pure”

His hand trailed down your side, until it rested just above your hip, warm and sure.

“And the worst part?” he said, leaning in closer until his lips brushed your jaw. “You like it.”

Heeseung kissed the corner of your mouth, just once.

“So... do you want me to make you feel good again?”

You nodded, tiny, helpless, breathless.

“Use your words,” he said, thumb stroking your hip, patient but demanding.

“I… I want it,” you whispered.

“Yeah?” His voice was a low hum, pleased and dangerous. “Say please.”

You looked up at him then, eyes shiny and teary and full of shame and need.

“Please.”

Heeseung grinned, eyes dark.

“Good girl.”

That's how you ended up in his room, only in your tiny laced panties, on top of him trying to respond to the messy kiss he was giving to you. It was a mess of tongues and saliva, no one had ever kissed you like this before, like he wanted to devour you and own you, but you liked it, liked the feeling of his warm lips against yours, not giving but taking.

“You’re already shaking,” he murmured, voice low and dripping with amusement. “Didn’t even touch you yet.”

Your breath hitched as he leaned down, lips brushing your jaw.

“Tell me you missed it,” he whispered.

You hesitated, eyes wide, hands gripping his shoulders, trembling. But you couldn’t lie. Not when your body was practically begging.

“I… I missed it.”

Heeseung smiled against your neck.

“Good girl.”

His fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your panties, slow and deliberate, as if giving you time to stop him. But you didn’t, you couldn’t. Not when your body remembered the way he made you feel, how his voice made you melt, how he knew exactly where to touch, how it felt to be undone by someone you blindly trusted too much.

You whimpered and your thighs tried to close, but he was already between them, already pressing open-mouthed kisses down your chest. Another small, pathetic sound left your throat when his tongue circled around your hardened nipples, so sensitive, a jolt of pleasure going through your whole body.

“Say it,” he demanded gently. “Tell me who you need.”

“You,” you whispered, eyes fluttering shut. “I-I need you.”

His grin turned wicked.

“That’s right. That's my good girl."

He kissed his way lower, letting his hands spread your thighs wide again. The heat between your legs throbbed, slick with anticipation. He groaned softly at the sight.

“My messy girl," he murmured, running a teasing finger through your folds. “You’re soaked already. Just for me.”

You moaned, body arching, your hands flying to your mouth to stifle the sound. But Heeseung wasn’t having that.

“Uh-uh,” he scolded, gently prying your hands away. “You don’t get to hide from me. Not anymore.”

He shifted, guiding you up gently so you were straddling his thigh. His large hands gripped your waist, coaxing you forward until the heat of your core was pressed firmly against the muscle of his leg.

"You missed me this much, baby? You want to feel good again?" his voice was sweet but low and there was small hint of mocking in it, but you didn't care, you were so needy, you wanted to feel it again.

So you just nodded, shamelessly, eyes starting to water.

Then he smiled and gripped your hips, making you grind against his thigh. A shiver went down your spine, a flick of pleasure pulsing in your soaked intimacy, and you moaned, high-pitched and aching.

"Just like that,” he murmured, voice low and coaxing. “Let go, baby. I’ve got you.”

Your breath stuttered, your hands clinging to his shoulders for balance. You’d never done anything like this—never even thought you could—but Heeseung’s steady grip and the heat in his gaze made you feel brave. Safe. He moved your hips slowly for you, rocking you back and forth against the firm muscle of his thigh. The friction sent sparks flying through you, and your head dropped against his chest with a whimper.

“Feel that?” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple. “That’s it. So good for me. Look at how well you listen.”

Your thighs were trembling, slick pooling between them, as his thigh flexed beneath you. Every roll of your hips pulled another whimper from your lips. The pressure was dizzying, just the right angle, like he knew what your body craved before you did. Every nerve in your body was on fire. You couldn’t even talk, couldn’t think. You were just mumbling nonsense, incoherent “I-It feels so good - so good” “I’ve never…” “Oh my god!”

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he whispered, guiding you faster now. “Look at you, making a mess all over me.”

Heeseung watched you with dark, hungry eyes, eyes that soaked in every twitch, every moan, every clench of your thighs. You looked ruined and perfect, and he loved it. Loved that he was the one making you fall apart like this.

“Come for me like this,” he whispered, voice rough with want. “I want to feel you fall apart right here, sweet girl.”

Your body shook, every nerve lit up as your release hit, clenching helplessly around nothing, your slick soaking his skin. You whimpered into his shoulder, tears spilling over your cheeks from the intensity of it all. Your heart was pounding so hard it echoed in your ears, your body wrung out and trembling.

But Heeseung wasn’t done. Not even close.

“Shh, don’t think,” he murmured against your ear, rocking you slow and lazy through the aftershocks. “You don’t need to think when you’re with me. Just be my good girl. Let me take care of everything.”

He tilted your chin up, made you meet his eyes through your haze.

“Forget all that other stuff,” he whispered. “Your rules, your guilt. Doesn’t matter right now. You were made to feel good like this. You deserve this.”

He kissed you, slow and sweet, before adding with a low, filthy murmur:

“Now be a good girl and get dumb for me. Let me make you feel even better.”

And with your body pliant against his, still trembling from the high he gave you, you knew you would.

He was ruining you. Not even in a painful, mean way.

In a soft, slow, dangerous way.

You were once an innocent, shy girl. A girl that blushed at the slightest mention of sex, a girl that was scared of raising her voice. Maybe you still were like that, at least on the outside. But inside? You had become a mess of need. A thing that belonged to his voice, his hands, the memory of his touch on your body. Nothing else could reach you now. Nothing else could make you feel whole.

He kissed you like he owned you, made you grind on his thigh until you were shaking and soaked, your cheeks flushed and eyes glazed. And afterward, when you collapsed against his chest, still trembling, he cupped your jaw and whispered:

"I made you feel good, baby. And how do good girls say thank you?"

You didn’t know how to say it at first, too shy, too dizzy. So he kissed you again until you mumbled it through a moan “T-Thank you, Hee, thank you…” and he smiled like he'd just won a game.

It only got worse from there.

Late at night, you’d lie alone in bed, panties pushed to the side, phone pressed to your ear with tears pricking your eyes because it didn’t work. Not without him.

"That's it, angel," he’d murmur, voice low and thick through the speaker, probably touching himself too.”Do it how I taught you. Two fingers. Not too fast. Pretend it's me."

You’d whimper, thighs shaking, pillow soaked under your cheek. He always knew exactly what to say to make you fall apart.

Then you started sneaking out. You’d wait until his sister was asleep beside you, breathing soft and even, before slipping out of bed in your oversized shirt and bare legs. You’d tiptoe down the hallway, heart pounding, to knock once on his door. He never made you wait long. He was always ready, leaning in the doorway with lazy eyes and bare chest, tugging you inside with one hand on your waist.

Some nights he didn’t even undress you. Just lifted your shirt and kissed your thighs, mouthing at the fabric of your panties until they were soaked through, whispering, “My angel, so needy for me, huh? Couldn’t even sleep without feeling me?”

Other nights, he sat on the bed, pulled you onto his lap, and made you grind against the bulge in his boxers until you were shaking, clinging to his shoulders, panting into his neck.

Sometimes, he didn’t touch you at all. Sometimes, he just kissed you. Slow, deep, messy kisses that made your legs tremble and your core ache, kisses that left you gasping for air and begging for more. He’d pull away with a smug grin, stroking your cheek. "Poor baby," he’d whisper, thumb brushing your wet lips. "So addicted to me, aren’t you?”

You stopped paying attention in class, you stopped listening to his sisters chatter, you stopped listening to the priests words. Everything in your mind was him, and you couldn’t wait for the next time he touched you. It was so embarrassing, sometimes you’d wake up in the middle of the night after dreaming about him, eyes glassy and panties soaked, your core pulsing full with need but you were too shy to call him so you’d cry yourself to sleep until the pain went away. And when that time came, where he finally touched you again, you melted the right second his hands slipped between your legs.

Your body wasn’t yours anymore, it was his.

You stopped wearing panties around the house, you knocked on his bedroom door like a habit. Every time you felt empty, every time you needed him, he was there, whispering in your ear:

"That’s my girl. So needy all the time, aren’t you? You can’t help it. I’ve ruined you.”

And that wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part, you were falling in love with him.

It didn’t happen all at once.

At first, it was just about the way he made you feel. That overwhelming pleasure. The way he knew your body better than you did. The way he spoke to you, praised you, touched you like you were made just for him.

But then it crept in, quiet and slow, the way real feelings always do. It was in the way your heart started skipping when you saw his name light up your phone. In the way you lingered in his room a little longer after he made you come, hoping he’d ask you to stay. In the way you watched him when he wasn’t looking, memorizing the slope of his nose, the curve of his mouth, the way his lashes curled when he blinked.

And it did hurt, a little bit. Because maybe you were naive and dreamy, but you knew, that deep down, he didn’t love you. At least not the way you wanted him to love you. He loved how obedient you were, how easy you made it for him. He loved the mess you made on his sheets, the way your voice shook when you begged. He loved owning you.

But that was it.

The thing is, you hadn’t done anything past touches and oral sex, but you knew, eventually, that you would beg for it, for him to take you completely, you were at the very edge, and you knew that, when that finally happened, you would be completely lost. And maybe you wanted to.

Maybe the idea of giving him that final part of yourself—your last piece of innocence—felt like the only way to truly belong to him.

Because you already belonged to him, didn’t you?

You were in his room again.

The door was shut, locked, you thought, but your mind was too hazy to be sure. You couldn’t think properly, couldn’t breathe without hiccuping on the moans slipping past your lips. Your thighs trembled as he moved his fingers inside of you, thumb moving lazily over your swollen clit, whimpering and gasping for air when he curled them inside of you against your soaked walls, eyes full of tears, face all flushed.

It was the third one.

“Hee” you whimpered, voice cracking, shame burning hot in your chest. “I-I can’t— it’s too—”

“You can,” he murmured, leaning closer, his lips brushing your ear. “You’re doing so good for me, baby. Look how wet you are—fuck. So tight, too.”

You shook your head before you could stop yourself, tears collecting at the corners of your lashes. He groaned low in his throat like it turned him on even more, curling his fingers just right inside you again, hitting that spot that made your legs kick, that made your hips lift without your permission.

“You're so sweet, so fucking innocent—” his fingers twisted slightly, “—and you’re letting me ruin you in my bedroom with your best friend asleep just down the hall. That’s so bad, baby.”

You didn’t even realize you were crying until his thumb pressed down just a little harder and your back arched off his sheets like it wasn’t even your body anymore.

“Hee—Heeseung, I—” Your voice broke on a gasp, hands fisting in the sheets now, legs trembling uncontrollably. “It’s happening—please, I can’t—”

“You can,” he whispered again, fingers still curling so deep inside you, his voice so low and filthy it made you shiver. “You’re cumming, baby. Let it happen. Let me feel you—come on, be a good girl.”

It was too much, your body tightened around him, all that pressure finally snapping and spilling over into something uncontrollable. You cried out for him, legs kicking slightly, body going stiff, then trembling all over as the heat surged through you, pleasure rolling over in waves. Your eyes blurred, your mouth fell open, and his name broke off your lips again and again like it was the only thing holding you to the earth.

“Fuck,” Heeseung groaned, watching you fall apart like he was committing it to memory, his fingers slowing down but never stopping. “That’s it. That’s my good girl. So fucking pretty when you cum.”

You were gasping, panting, blinking through tears, your whole body twitching from aftershocks. You had never felt anything like this before. Not even close.

Heeseung removed his fingers with a slick sound, bringing them to his mouth and moaning at the sweet taste of you, and while your body was still shaking, you felt your cheeks burn, he always did that but it made you shy anyways.

But there was something about you tonight, you felt like it just wasn’t enough anymore. The touches, the late nights with his fingers between your legs or you riding his thigh until you were shaking. You wanted more.

You wanted him.

So with breathy, weak voice, you spoke to him while he kissed you, against his lips.

“Please, Heeseung,” you whispered, voice barely holding together. “I want it to be you.”

Heeseung stopped, then exhaled like he’d been punched in the gut. His eyes darkened, throat working as he hovered over you, one hand curling around your jaw while the other stroked his cock in slow, lazy motions, over the fabric of his sweatpants.

“Say that again,” he said, voice deep, low, dangerous. “Look me in the eye and tell me.”

Your cheeks got red again, and you blinked as you felt a tear slip down one of them.

“I want you,” you said shakily. “Please. I want you to take my virginity.”

A growl ripped from his throat. It was like something snapped inside of him.

He let go of his cock, grabbed your hips instead, dragging you completely down the bed roughly, making you gasp, until your thighs were spread wide under him, your entrance bare and glistening and sensitive, still pulsing and so exposed you wanted to cry from shame and need at the same time. Heeseung then pushed down his pants in one movement, freeing his cock completely and you blushed again because this was the first time you saw him like this. He was thick, so thick that your legs trembled at the thought of it inside of you, he was veiny and his tip was red and glistening with precum.

His touch was still soft but rougher when without hesitation, like he had been waiting for this his whole life, he grabbed the hem of your hoodie and slipped it out of you before throwing it on the floor. You couldn’t even respond before his lips found your sensitive nipples, hot and wet mouth around them, and you moaned his name arching your back against him, wanting to feel more of his touch.

“So fucking polite,” he murmured, teasing the head of his cock against your folds, not pushing in. “Begging me all sweet like that. You really don’t know what you’re getting into, do you?”

You whimpered, blinking up at him, breathing fast.

“Poor thing,” he smirked, cock twitching against your entrance. “Gonna split you open. Stretch this tight little virgin cunt until you cry.”

The second he started pushing in, the thick head of him breaching your untouched walls, your lips parted in a high, broken sound, your body tensed all over, too much, too full, too hot, and he just groaned, head dropping to your shoulder.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “You’re tight. Tighter than I even dreamed.”

You gasped again when he shifted his hips and went deeper, inch by inch, your walls stretching around him, clinging so tight he could barely move. It burned. It throbbed. Your legs were shaking around him, fingers digging into his back like you were drowning. You closed your eyes with so much force that you saw starts, tears falling down the red skin of your cheeks.

“Hurts—” you whispered.

His gaze softened just a little bit, but he didn’t stop.

“I know, baby,” he murmured, licking your tears away, “first time always does. But I promise I’ll make it feel good. You trust me, right?”

You nodded. It was messy and desperate, and you didn’t know why, this man had taken all the purity from you, but you did.

“Good girl.” His hips rolled slowly, and you felt him everywhere, thick and hot and heavy inside you, pressing so deep it made your stomach flutter, stretching your walls so good, you felt so full, so owned. “I want you to remember this,” he said darkly, mouth dragging over your ear. “Every time you feel sore, every time you feel me dripping out of you later, I want you to remember who did this to you.”

You moaned, helpless, as he started to move, slow and deep, dragging his cock out until just the tip remained before pushing all the way back in, making your whole body jerk. The stretch stung, but your body was softening around him, wet and fluttering, clinging like it wanted more. Your hair was sticking to your forehead, your cheeks soaked with tears, your heart full of shame but somehow, full of love too because you were loving this, loving how he felt, how he was talking to you, how he moved inside of you.

“Look at you,” Heeseung murmured, dragging your legs higher around his waist. “So good for me. Crying, shaking, and you’re still letting me fuck this virgin pussy like it’s mine.”

You nodded again, not even thinking, and his hips pushed again, a little rougher this time, and a loud cry broke from your throat as he slammed back in, the sharp sting of the stretch still there, but somehow it just made everything more intense. His cock dragged along your walls so deep, so full, the pressure at your core tightening unbearably.

He smirked.

“Yeah? It is mine?”

“Yours,” you whispered, tears running hot down your cheeks.

“That’s right,” he cooed, snapping his hips harder now, slow but with force, enough to knock the breath out of your lungs each time. “You’ll never be this innocent again, sweetheart. I’m takin’ all of it.”

His hand slid between your bodies again, his thumb finding your swollen clit, rubbing soft, tight circles that made you scream.

“Fuck, baby,” he grunted, holding your thighs up around his waist, folding you open like he owned you. “You’re taking it so well now. Pussy’s learnin’ me, isn’t it? Getting used to this cock already.”

You moaned through clenched teeth, head rolling back into the pillow, overwhelmed. It felt like too much, he was so heavy over your body, but also not enough, your body craving more even as it trembled beneath him.

“Eyes on me,” he said, grabbing your jaw with one hand and forcing you to look up at him. “I want you to watch while I ruin you.”

Your lashes fluttered, tears clinging to your cheeks. You were crying, breath hitching, but not from pain, it was all just too much. And you loved it. His pace picked up. Not brutal but relentless, deep, rolling thrusts that made your thighs shake, your toes curl, your breath come in broken sobs as he slammed against your skin with wet, obscene sounds.

You couldn’t speak, ouldn’t think straight. All the shame and shyness disappeared the second you felt him inside of you. His cock dragged against your walls with each deep thrust, your body slick and messy, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing in the room with every movement.

“Listen to how wet you are,” he whispered, almost laughing, dark, low, obsessed. “Dripping for me. So fuckin’ tight, but your pussy’s greedy, baby. She wants more, huh?”

You sobbed, your back arching when he suddenly shifted, folding you deeper, pressing your knees toward your chest as he sank in even further, stealing the air from your lungs.

“Oh my god—Heeseung—” you gasped.

“Yeah? You feel that? That’s me right here—” he slid a hand down to press against your lower stomach, just over where the head of his cock was hitting deep inside. “Right there, baby. Right where you needed me.”

Your hands scrambled up to his shoulders, nails dragging uselessly over his skin as your body trembled. Your brain was melting, no thoughts left except HeeseungHeeseungHeeseung. You felt it again, the pressure building, everything was too much. And he knew it.

“Gonna cum again?” he mocked sweetly. “That’s so cute. Barely been fucked and already falling apart. Is it too much?”

You sobbed out a moan, your body arching up, clenching around him like you couldn’t stop.

“Thank me,” he said suddenly, voice sharp in your ear. “Say thank you for fucking you this good.”

Your eyes fluttered open, dazed and wide, lips trembling.

“Say it,” he ordered, pushing deeper, hips grinding against your pelvis until your thighs shook uncontrollably. “Be a good girl.”

“Th-thank you,” you choked out, voice wrecked. “Thank you, Heeseung.”

He groaned, cock twitching deep inside you.

“Say thank you for taking my virginity.”

You cried harder, but you said it, gasping through tears, face flushed and humiliated and so turned on it hurt. But you didn’t care, you were his now.

“Thank you… for taking it,” you sobbed. “Thank you for ruining me.”

“Fuck,” he hissed. “That’s my girl.”

His thrusts got faster, deeper, pounding into your sweet, tender pussy like he was claiming it, like he wanted to leave it swollen and aching and full of him.

“Gonna cum inside,” he growled. “Gonna fill you up and keep it there. Want you dripping, sore, thinking of me every time you sit down.”

Your body tensed all over again, everything built fast, hot, unbearable, and you came with a scream, tears falling as your body shook, muscles locking around him so tight he groaned, hips stuttering

“Fuck, that’s it,” Heeseung grunted, barely holding on, his cock pulsing deep inside your spasming walls. “You want it, don’t you? Wanna be full of me.”

You nodded frantically, crying through it, too far gone to even speak, but he didn’t need words. Your body said everything, writhing under him, sucking him in deeper with every flutter.

“You want me to breed this pretty little pussy,” he moaned, hips stuttering. “First time and I’m already ruining you. Filling you up so good, baby—fuck, maybe I’ll get you pregnant. Maybe I’ll knock you up just like this, all messy and crying for me.”

You gasped, another twitch racing through you at his words. You were trembling, overstimulated, body arching under him even as your orgasm still echoed through your limbs.

“That's what you want, right?” he whispered, fucking you through it, each thrust slower but deeper, his cock twitching as was so close. “Want me to fuck a baby into you. Stuff you full. Claim you for real.”

His body hovered over yours, sweat-damp hair sticking to his forehead, jaw clenched so tight it ticked as he fought to hold it together. His brows furrowed, lips parted on a low moan as he came, cock throbbing deep inside your spasming cunt.

You felt it, the thick, hot spill of his release, filling you to the brim, warm and endless. He gripped your thighs tighter, pulling your body closer, anchoring himself as he fucked it deeper with short, needy thrusts. His groan was guttural when he finally spilled, hot inside you, filling you so deep it burned. He held himself there, cock buried to the hilt, like he didn’t want to lose a single drop.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, shaking, breath ragged and broken.

“God,” he groaned, voice rasping, barely audible. “So fucking good. Gonna get you pregnant like this.”

His hands trembled slightly, not from nerves, but from restraint, like every muscle in his body was straining to keep control. Veins stood out on his arms, his chest heaving against yours, skin burning hot.

He looked down at you, and his eyes, blown wide, pupils dark and wild, were obsessed.

“Look at me,” he whispered, pushing your hair back with shaking fingers. “I want you to remember what I look like when I cum inside you for the first time.”

You blinked up at him through the blur of tears, vision filled with the flushed pink of his cheeks, the swollen red of his lips, the glint of sweat that made his collarbones shine in the low light.

His cock twitched again, still deep, still thick and hard even after filling you so completely.

He smiled, slow, dark, too pleased.

“Still clenching,” he murmured, shifting slightly. “You don’t want to let me go, do you?”

When he finally pulled back, a mix of slick and cum slipped out with a slow, wet sound, and his jaw locked again, nostrils flaring like it physically hurt him to see it.

“Fuck no,” he muttered, shoving it back in with two fingers, watching your face twist from overstimulation. “You’re keeping every drop. Gotta make sure it sticks.”

Then he leaned down, still panting, pressing his forehead to yours.

“You look so fucking pretty like this,” he whispered. “All mine. Full of me.”

You didn’t even notice you were crying again until Heeseung kissed the tears from your cheeks, slow and tender.

“Shh, baby,” he whispered, voice low and hoarse as he stroked your hair back. “You did so good for me. Took it all, didn’t you? My sweet girl.”

You could barely nod, body twitching beneath him, every inch of you overstimulated, messy, full. His arms wrapped around you carefully as he rolled the both of you onto your sides, cradling your body against his chest, your cunt pulsing, twitching, leaking all over his sheets.

Heeseung looked down and moaned.

“Fuck. Look at the mess we made,” he whispered against your temple, nuzzling close, not even trying to hide how obsessed he was. “All my cum dripping out of this perfect little pussy. Bet you can feel it, huh?”

You whimpered, still trembling, thighs too sore to close. He kissed the corner of your mouth.

“I know, baby. I know it’s a lot,” he murmured, brushing soft fingers down your side, slow and soothing. “I got you. I’ll clean you up.”

He reached for a towel nearby and gently started dabbing between your legs, but even then, he couldn’t help himself.

“God,” he muttered, watching your thighs twitch from the sensitivity. “You’re so ruined for me now.”

You blinked up at him, eyes still hazy and damp.

“You’ll never be the same again, angel,” he whispered, kissing your jaw. “Nobody’s ever gonna fuck you like that. Nobody’s gonna make you cry the way I do.”

You whimpered, and he smiled, soft and so proud.

“My good girl,” he praised, rubbing slow circles into your thigh with his free hand. “Took it all so sweet. You didn’t even know you could take that much, did you?”

You shook your head, burying your face in his neck as he chuckled and held you tighter.

“Yeah,” he breathed, kissing your temple again. “All mine now. Sweet little thing’s all used up and full of me. Gonna keep you that way.”

He tossed the towel aside once he was satisfied and pulled you into his chest completely, letting you rest against his body, warm and safe, even with the filth still heavy in his voice.

“You okay, baby?” he whispered softly, letting his hand run up and down your spine now, gentler.

You nodded, a soft hum escaping your lips.

You blinked up at him through heavy lashes, still glassy with leftover tears. You could barely speak, throat raw from moaning, from crying, from begging, but somehow the words came, a whisper barely audible.

“…thank you.”

Your voice was so small, so wrecked. But it was the way you said it, all soft and sweet, like you meant it with your whole heart. His eyes darkened again, slowly dragging over your face. The tears on your cheeks. The swollen lips. The ruined innocence.

His thumb brushed the corner of your mouth as he let out a shaky breath.

“Fuck, baby,” he muttered, eyes fluttering closed for a second like he was physically affected. “That’s the filthiest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

You flushed, face hot against his skin.

He leaned in closer, kissed your temple, and whispered like a secret:

“My sweet girl… all ruined and grateful for it.”

His voice was shaking now too, not from arousal this time, but from something deeper, Possession, obsession.

“You don’t even know what you’re doing to me.”

He pulled you closer, wrapping you up like you were something precious and fragile, even though you’d just let him break you completely. And you had. Your body still ached, sore and pulsing, filled and messy, but you’d never felt so full, or so safe.

“Thank you for letting me be your first,” he whispered finally. “And your last.”

Your eyelids fluttered shut as his warmth pulled you under. The ache in your thighs, the mess between your legs, the soreness blooming across your skin… none of it mattered. You were in Heeseung’s arms. Safe. Ruined. You weren’t sure if he loved you, maybe he did in his own dangerous way, you didn’t know what you were going to say to his sister tomorrow morning.

It didn’t matter, you were his now.

3K notes · View notes

muntitled · 6 months ago

Text

Girl On TV

Pairings: Namgyu x Fem!Reader

Summary: After being humiliated by his not-so-innocent friends for being far too innocent, you decide not to be such a prude for once in your life

Warnings: Language, Substance Abuse, Toxic Relationship, Male Manipulation, Virgin!Reader, Coercion, Peer Pressure, Drug Use, Virginity shaming, Smut (+18) mdni, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Sadism, Sadomasocism, Grinding, Porn, Corruption Kink, Pillow Humping, Mutual Masterbation

A/n: I love being a problematic Namgyu stan

You hadn't known it would come down to this.

Had you been told before you would be dragged to sit on his lap under the dim lights of Club Pentagon and made to see this... you might not even have some at all.

Perhaps if he had invited you under the guise of distracting you from academics for one Friday night, you might've been more open.

Less of a prude.

But you had never seen such a clean line of powder stretched across the table in your life. In fact your body burns with not only embarrassment at being in the proximity of such hardcore drugs, but your bones were also set alight in fear.

The arms that have been cradling your waist pulls you in tighter, making you feel smaller than you actually were on his lap. This is what you loved about him. He liked you. Your curves. Your face. Your everything.

You could stick this out, couldn't you?

You should.

"Woah," He calmly whispers into your ear. All at once, every morsel of discomfort is driven out by your overwhelming need to please him.

The club is dark.

The music is good.

Namgyu's pulled you onto his lap in front of an embarrassingly large group of strangers. Everything is perfect.

"What's wrong?" He's so attentiative, bending his head down to whispers conspiratorially into your hair. His voice drowns out the oppressive rap song being performed on the center stage on the ground floor of the club and for all of five minutes its just you and him and the cocaine. Buy mainly, just him.

"You're strung up." He whispers.

You're quiet for a few tense minutes, wondering if you should voice your concerns and risk having him disappointed in you for not having fun like he intended.

"I don't know if I'm too comfortable."

"Here?" You hear him whisper, slightly poking his head forward to nudge his nose into the back of your neck, "With me?" He's using that petulant almost needy voice of his when he's inebriated and it tugs at something deeply troubled inside you.

"Not with you," you reassure him, "With that-" you nudge your head forward slightly, leading his half-lidded eyes to the long stripe of cocaine marring the table. "And your friends," you reluctantly murmur, letting yourself sink against him as if he had the power to scare these drunken people away. As if he wasn't forcing you here, amongst them at all.

"You know Thanos is a big name in the club scene-" He begins and you cut him off by sighing very loudly as you resch forward to grab your glass of water off the small, reflective table.

Thoroughly annoyed because he's sung this song before.

"I know, Namgyu but-"

His fingers weave into themselves around your waist, securing you against him like a baby, "Just be cool for like 40 minutes- maybe and hour-"

Your blood pressure skyrocketed as you turned back to shoot him, not only a look of immense incredulousness but betrayal.

"Namgyu, you said you wanted to take me out- yeah? Not your friends-”

"-Then we can get out of here, and I'll give you all the kisses you want."

You sigh heavily once more. “You didn't say anything about-"

He loosens his grip from your waist before standing up, forcing you to stand up in the process.

"He's coming," he whispers, keeping his eye off into the distance. His attention is much not on you and your present moral struggles.

"This is work, baby, you know this-"

"Namgyu- I have a test on-"

He pinches your side as a new guest enters the section. "Shh." Namgyu whispers at the same time the guest's boisterous hollers cause you to quite literally flinch.

"Yo, Namsu!" He's dripping in gold chains and purple hair. "Who is this fine Senorita you've brought with you?" He asks despite having two women under his arm. "You trying to outdo me bro?" Thanos takes a seat directly beside you and Your boyfriend.

"This is my girl-" He says at the same time Namgyu pulls you back onto his lap.

"It's Nam-Gyu-" you say through gritted teeth. "Not Nam-Su." Your eyes are narrowed at the man who only listens and smiles.

You glare daggers at the man before your boyfriend taps you slightly, reminding you to answer. “I have water- so no thank you." You say before mumbling, "I'm not a snitch either-"

"Is she partaking with us?" He asks your boyfriend, despite looking right at you. “Or is she a snitch?"

The girl under Thanos' arm snickers. "Water?"

You once again, tried to crawl further into Namgyu's lap.

He, thankfully tightened his grip around your waist, never letting you go as he conversed in inebriated chatter with Thanos. The more drugs they consumed the louder they got, until Namgyu started flailing his right arm wildly while he told a story, still having somewhat enough sense to keep a languid grip on your waist.

Somewhere, amongst all the useless chatter, you decided to add in your two cents, snickering quietly to yourself as you mumbled over the rim of your glass, "I've actually never watched porn before-"

"What do you mean you've never watched porn before?" Your eyes widen when you realize you'd spoken louder than you intended to and one of Thanos' girls snicker loudly. The sound carries across the table to his degenerate friends and their girlfriend's and causes a whole new wave of laughter to be birthed from your embarrassment.

You begin to squirm in Namgyu's lap.

Despite the drugs and the loud music, the two of you were having such a nice evening... You never fancied partying much and yet, your boyfriend had to sink his claws into you to get you to agree to one night of partying. The consequences of that decision are playing out in front of you.

"You've been banging a virgin this entire time?" Thanos asks Namgyu the same time and nameless girl says-

"Even I've watched porn."

Despite the anxiety flooding your veins at being the center of unwanted attention, Namgyu's grip around your waist is firm. It keeps you grounded. It tightens around you now, nudging you against him like his nose at the nape of your neck.

"Have I?" Namgyu asks with his eyes as hazy as the city caught in dusk. There isn't alcohol on his breath, only a light dust of snow under his nose.

"Have you what?" You ask, staring down at your trembling hands.

"Been dealing with a virgin this entire time?" He asks, unraveling your very private life to a room full of strangers. He's high. And incredibly loose with his mouth. You have to find it in you to take his inebriation into account but you only feel annoyed.

“Is that why you don't do drugs with me?"

"I don't do drugs with you because I actually value my health-"

"Sick burn," Thanos snorts in his little corner.

Your eyes widen. Your throat tightens.

These aren't your people.

Your people are nestled in the university library, cramming one final time before their semester tests.

Yet here you were, caught under a thick cloud of smoke that had your throat burning, all for a boy.

And admittedly priceless one.

"Don't be an asshole." You turn to glare daggers at him.

"Don't be a prude-" he shoots back. A few locks of hair fall from behind his ear as he watches you with a darkened gaze. "Is that why we haven't had sex yet?" Your heart plummets, "cus you're a virgin?” Namgyu asks. You don't know which side he's on.

"Woah!? A virgin in the flesh-" Thanos hollers, staring at you like a specimen in a petri dish. He nudges the girl under his arm, "I'd cheat on you if you ever tried that shit with me.”

"I know!" The girl responds before turning to look at you with dazed, dilated pupils. "Aren't you scared he's gonna do something if you wait too long?"

These aren't your people.

"If Namgyu wants to sleep with someone then by all means-"

You wrestle out of his iron grip, thanking God for the water that's keeping you sober and steady on your feet.

"Ooh, spicy, spicy-" Thanos mumbles

"Can I go please?" Namgyu keeps his hand in yours, looking up at you with a deadly glare.

"Nah, you leave when I leave, I'm still working-"

You pull your hand out of his.

"I have a test on Tuesday. Goodnight.

Its not like you thought he would follow you. Namgyu was especially selfish, as was the case for most addicts. Right now, you imagine him snapping out of his daze, leaning back over that table, tucking his hair behind his ears as he snorted up whatever Thanos wanted him to.

You didn't think you were being followed and so you feel thoroughly and completely alone once you get to your apartment.

Despite being completely alone this evening, you still try to hide what you're watching on your phone. Your headsets are pulled over your ears, your head reclined against the arm of the couch while your blankie was pulled over your supine frame. You hadn't exactly planned on watching porn this evening but the group's bullying had left you curious.

The girl projected on your phone screen looks up at the actor about to rail her insides. "You've been a bad girl,"

You roll your eyes into the back of your skull. This was precisely why you refrained from mainstream porn. Some of the best stuff was either in your audio files or in your reading list. Visual porn never did much for you- until you scrolled a little too far down to a new, more promising video.

The actress has a crimson handprint on her ass, as her dom forces her to ride her pillow. Despite the difference in skin tone and the overall mediocre acting, you were having a considerable amount of fun imagining yourself in her place. You thought about an invisible collar clamped around your throat with a big, strong, domineering man loomed above you, forcing you to push your clit right up against-

The more you slipped into a pleasure filled haze. You watch with bated breath.

"Sh-it-" you nearly fall off the couch. Your phone plops out of your slippery hands, right onto your face and your headphones slide off. Standing above you, is Namgyu, trying to fight a grin off his face as he stares down at you. You look up at him with wide, frightened eyes.

"Wh-when did you get back home?" the words barely leave your mouth before Namgyu's grabbing your phone.

"Naughty, naughty girl," He doesn't seem surprised to see the contents on your screen. In fact, the only giveaway that he saw anything at all is the slight flicker his eyes make towards you, before he stares back down at the phone.

"H-How was 'work'?" You're desperately trying to steer your attention away from the blatant porn on your phone screen, away from the smirk on his face as he bites his lips, away from his exposed tattoos in his short sleeve shirt.

"Work was work." He replied, still watching the porn, "I'm high as shit." He says casually as he disappears into the bedroom, your phone still in his hand.

"Hard too." He says when he returns. Your phone clutched in one hand and the large teddy bear he bought you for your 21st clutched in the other hand. You furrow your brows up at him, confused when he takes a seat on the couch. Your feet against his thigh as he clicks a few buttons on your phone before seating the giant teddy bear beside him.

He grabs the remote before pressing a few buttons.

You freeze when you hear the moans first.

Your gaze catches the TV.

There, the girl from your screen rides her pillow and you're forced to watch.

You're almost too embarrassed to feel turned on. Ungluing your eyes from the TV, you instead watch your hands in your lap.

He places a hand under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. He's sitting comfortably on his side, remarkably unfazed by the girl's pornographic moans.

"Fuck the bear." Is all he says, as he leans against his arm and he strokes your chin. Petting you.

"Wha-"

"You gonna make me ask again?"

It's something in his tone and his hazy, half-lidded gaze that kickstarts your senses as you languidly stand on your feet. You're trembling and he reaches out to interlock your hands in his. Namgyu loved how eager yet innocent you are for him. He can see in the clumsiness of your movements that you were already slipping into subspace. With trembling fingers, you reach up to the thin straps of your pyjama dress and he nods his head.

"Should I take off my panties too?" Your voice is small.

Namgyu tilts his head. "You even have to ask?"

Behind you, the girl's breathing doubles and her moans increase.

"Better hurry or she's gonna cum." He taunts, watching like a stone statue as you mount the bear seated beside him. Namgyu's breathing catches as you straddle the bear, your movements tense and uncertain.

"Fuck the bear-" you lower your cunt onto the fur material and you moan, having not realized how wet you'd actually been this entire evening.

"That's it- fuck." He spreads his legs, leaning back more as he lets his hand brush over the tent in his jeans.

You don't moan because it feels good. It doesn't. Not immediately at least. You moan because Namgyu is watching. Reclined against the couch as his eyes stay on you.

"Ride the plushie like the girl in the video." He says. Your throat dries when he continues to languidly stroke his hand over the bulge in his sweatpants.

"Fuck- Gyu," he knew when the nickname fell from your lips that you were done for.

You both were.

Your eyes steadily roll to the back of your head as you grind your pussy against the bear, already creating a wet spot.

Behind you, you heard the girl moan and whine and somehow that spurrs you on.

"So fucking needy-” you gasp when you feel a hand cupping your exposed breasts. Namgyu reaches over to tweak your nipples just as his other hand finally slips inside his pants.

"Crane your fucking neck back. Try to watch the slut make herself cum." When you do, your hips stutter hard and your clit twitches.

"You watch her." Namgyu commands, stroking his exposed cock, "I'd rather watch you."

As you watch, his mouth runs. Namgyu swore a lot but it doubled when he caught himself in the throes of arousal.

“You look just like that bitch, you know that?”

Your mouth snaps open as you watch her. Your expression is pained.

“You want everyone to think you're such a quiet little girl but your just a slut, yeah?” He speaks lpuder, “Just my fucking slut- fuck.” It nearly causes you to cum everywhere. Her hand is pushing down on the face of the poor, poor pillow as she rides it. You can tell she's close.

Unable to look any longer, you turn back. Your hazy eyes meets Namgyu's dilated ones. He's stroking his cock, head thrown back against the back of the couch, mouth slightly ajar. His cock is throbbing in his hand and he squeezes, showing you the precum sliding down the length.

"Gyu, please-" you grinded harder against the plushy and Namgyu picked up the pace.

"You imagining me fucking you, huh?" He throws his head back, closing, his eyes momentarily close as his cock twitches in his hand.

"Fuck- I-" your clit was rubbing against the plushie just right. Namgyu's fingers mercilessly squeezing your nipples have you seeing stars. This friction was enough.

Fuck.

Air could be enough to let you come in this moment. All you had to do was buck your hips a little more- but the pain blooming across your breasts were distracting you from cumming.

"Please-" your whole body was trembling- "It fucking hurts!"

His mouth falls open at that, before leaning his head against the couch. He squeezes the base of his cock and you watch the precum slide down its length.

"Fuck, say that again-" he brings his head back before stroking his cock faster. "Fuck the plushie, baby," His hips move up from the couch to meet his hand. "Tell me it hurts again-"

He sits up to tweak your nipples again and you whine. "H-Hurts so bad-"

"Yeah, Princess, just like that," he groans, throwing his head back, "Such a stupid fucking slut-" he admits, voice groggy.

Somehow that final degradation has your hips twitching as your clit spasms and you slip into the stars.

The second you cum, Namgyu does too. Cursing and mumrering a quiet and slightly broken, "Fuck- such s-slut-" before reaching over to grab a fistfull of your braids. Your hips are still writhing, your eyes as blank as a corpse as he pulls you forward to spray his cum all over your face.

He squeezes his cock, unable to keep his pretty eyes shut as he watches you writhe and moan. "Fuck me-" he sighs.

"Don't watch this shit again." He says, huffing and puffing. "It's bad for you."

In a second, he presses a button on the remote and the TV screen is black.

"If you need dick, come to me."

"You were making f-fun of me," you grumble under your breath, and you sigh heavily.

Your eyes are shut but you can feel him playing with his cum on your face.

"I wasn't making fun of you. I was just surprised. You're surprising." There's a thick layer of emotion in his voice. It has your body wracking with aftershocks. "You're not like anything I've ever experienced."

#squid game #squid game x reader #squid game fanfic #squid game smut #nam gyu #nam gyu x reader #nam gyu smut #namgyu x reader #namgyu #namgyu fanfic #namgyu smut

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stuck-in-the-ghost-zone · 1 year ago

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every time i think to myself "is this song too cliche" for a pd playlist. i remember no. these are teenagers. of COURSE they would pick the on the nose most unsubtle lyrics everNEVERMIND POST CANCELLED. WHISPER BY EVANESCENCE IS A WILLIAM WISP SONG.

#i have a ghost boy playlist from forever ago bc i made it originally for dp #and it just kind of evolved into “songs i like that are about ghosts”#and i was listening 2 it the other day like. i could make this about wiwi. i could make tjis about wiwi.#and part of me was like. no everyone and their dog has ghost by mother mother on their wiwi playlist. or like. rebirthing by skillet .#but then i remember being a teenager and im like “okay yeah nvm this is perfect”#anyway i think we should never feel any shame ever again and be as cringe and lame as we want all the time.#do you remember being a teenager? of course youre picking the most obvious songs. theyre obvious for a reason!!!#blahblahblah #anyway. listening to my middle school nostalgia playlist now. rebirthing is a wiwi song :)#ALSO WHISPER BY EVANESCENCE. WIWI CANONICALLY LISTENS TO EVANESCENCE ITS PERFECT FOREVWR.#“CATCH ME AS I FALL SAY YOURE HERE AND ITS ALL OVER NOW” << POINTS @. THE TRAMPOLINE SCENE. ROS DONT WORRY ABOUT IT YOURE NOT THERE YET #YOULL KNOW WHEN IT HAPPENS #musicposting

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st3f13ily · 18 days ago

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Encore Of Obsession

Pairing: Yandere Saja Boys x Reader

Genre: Kpop, Demon, Yandere, Supernatural Obsession

Summary : But the tour is over. You planned to leave. They have… other plans. Because of the SA'JA, love isn't a feeling. It's a possession.

You close the dressing room door.

The crowd's roars still echo through the venue, but you're already halfway through zipping your travel bag. You're quitting. This job was meant to be temporary. You weren't supposed to feel watched all the time. You weren't supposed to find roses and other types of flowers every night in every corner of your house.

You weren't supposed to be followed home every night.

But now, you know. The SA'JA boys weren't human idols. They were demon sirens in designer leather, creatures wrapped in flawless visuals and sharpened smiles.

And now… they're behind you.

Five shadows. Five sets of eyes. Five obsessions.

The door behind you slams shut.

The light flickered.

It was Jinu, staring at you with his Demon eyes, staring at you like he was about to take your soul any moment. But he can't, because you were the only one that they can't seem to control, to take, to surrender everything you've got. You were immune to them, you are immune to them, to these Demon Sirens.

You're trapped. In a room with five beautiful monsters who love you far, far too much.

He steps forward first, slow and calm. Always calm.

"Leaving?" Jinu murmurs, eyes unreadable. "Without telling us goodbye?"

Abby then stepped forward, chuckling as he says "Pft, you can't leave, we even packed the snacks you like, we even wrote you a song. Wanna hear?"

He starts humming.

You feel nothing. As always.

He stares at you, then at his own trembling hands.

"I… I killed that stylist you didn't like." he whispers, voice cracking. "I listened. Doesn't that count for something?"

"Abs, move." Baby says, voice low. He looks at you like he's dissecting you.

He calls out your name and then he murmurs, walking in a slow circle around you, "Do you even know what your real memories are?"

You go cold.

"I could erase them," his voice is deep but it has some gentleness. "Make you love me. Make you hate them. Make you forget that you ever tried to leave."

His fingers brush your temple.

"Want me to?"

"Enough," Jinu's voice echoed, then Romance stepped in front of Baby with a smirk. "She doesn't need force. She needs to feel."

He takes your hand.

"I remember every time you looked at me. Every half-smile. Every time you didn't run when we were alone."

His grip tightens.

"You wanted me too. Didn't you?"

Your voice shakes. "No."

He laughs. "Lie to me again. I dare you."

Mystery skips in, barefoot, lips stained red.

"I brought you a gift." he finally spoke, holding out something small and velvet.

You open it.

It's the different types of flowers that kept haunting you every night, every night when you thought you were alone in your house but different types flowers kept appearing in every corner.

"I cleaned your apartment. I burned your trash. I made everything perfect for when you come home—to us."

His smile turns glassy.

"You're not leaving," he whispers. "Are you?"

Their voices rise in perfect harmony—an unsung encore only you can hear.

Your ears ring.

Your body trembles.

But your soul stays yours.

Still immune.

Still resisting.

And that… only makes them want you more.

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ghostedbunnie · 7 months ago

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thinking about how 141 men would take advantage of christmas or just a cold weather in general.

fem! reader, 18+ minors do not interact!!

johnny definitely takes some mistletoe and waits for the perfect opportunity to be like "oi look a' that bonnie, a tradition is a tradition." and he just swoops in on you to literally maul you. slobbers all over you like a dog, pants into your mouth and grabs handfuls of your ass unapologetically. honestly half of his brain shuts down as soon as he has his hands and mouth on you. also doesn't care about timing or privacy, he'd do this in front of a room full of people.

simon is a meanie. he loves coming back inside to your home, catching you unawares while you're singing some christmas songs and baking. it doesn't help that he can only be heard when he wants to so you really stand no chance. he walks up to you and shoves his cold ass hands under your sweater and holds on to you so you can't even move away. he would start by grabbing your hips and quickly moving forward to cup your boobs while you whine about the goosebumps. he definitely ends up grinding onto your ass and whispering into your ear about how he can warm you right up.

kyle lets you talk him into matching ugly sweaters mostly because he is too hot to look bad in anything. he loves seeing you happy so he will do anything. if you are celebrating with your family or friends he is literally the picture perfect boyfriend that gets everyone oohing and aahing. he helps you with the tree decorating when something is out of your reach (but he lets you try to do it yourself just to see the sweater ride up and show of your skin, he is still cheeky) and he always tastes your cooking telling you exactly what it is that you're missing and have been trying to figure out for the past 10 mins. but his mind is playing out scenarios in which he's gonna get to the lacy lingerie he saw you wearing underneath the sweater.

now john is more lowkey about christmas, if he was on his own he wouldn't even bother with a tree. he does end up getting one for you ofc (after mean mugging few part-timers that tried to flirt with you but every time you looked at him he didn't let anything show but the guys there started giving you a wide berth). he will bring you to a work christmas party that he was forced to go by laswell and when he sees people bring their kids and you interacting with them, his mind starts racing with some wild thoughts about how your christmas could look next year. when he corners you in the bathroom and locks the door the only response to your wide-eyed stare is that he is "gettin' into the christmas spirit, love. jus' like you wanted."

#cod mw2 #cod x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #simon ghost riley #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #captain john price #bunnie writes #x reader insert #ignore how i've been MIA for a while just to come back with some more cod filth

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trainsinanime · 15 days ago

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Another reason why „Golden“ isn’t the perfect victory lap song that it pretends to be is that it’s lying about Mira and Zoey as well. Obviously it is completely missing Rumi because she’s lying about herself, but it’s wrong about the others as well.

Mira is portrayed as a problem child who hates and is hated by her family who turned that into profit. But I would argue that her main problem that is solved by being in Huntrix is loneliness. Her pendant has little Zoey and Rumi charms. Her insecurity that Gwi-Ma exploits is not about her parents, it’s whether she deserves to have a family at all.

Zoey's main conflict is supposedly her dual heritage, being torn between Korea and the US. And like with Mira, sure, that is definitely part of it, but her real main issue is that she got bullied for being neurodivergent and suffers from that.

This is made even less obvious, but the signs are clear. In „How It's Done“ she apologizes for rambling. She has a special interest, turtles (her fans have turtle signs, she has a turtle charm on her pendant, and her idea of a good movie is 700 two-second clips about turtles). She struggles with being on the same wavelength as her friends (e.g. „they’re magicians!“ and all the „Zoey!“ calls). And during the darkest moment, the demons whisper in her ear that she’s „always too much and never enough“.

And in „This is what it sounds like“, these things are briefly acknowledged. Mira's „I should've let the jagged edges meet the light instead“ is not super clear, but I think Zoey's „Why did I cover up the colors stuck inside my head?“ is very clear about this. Being together as three is how they overcome these struggles. Mira is not alone and Zoey is understood.

This is why I really wanted a second movie or (even better) a monster of the week series, so we could dive deeper into these two and their issues.

(Also see this great addition by @generalluxun about Mira: https://www.tumblr.com/generalluxun/787791928807866368/i-think-miras-is-a-bit-trickier-to-read-initially )

#kpop demon hunters #polytrix

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jinx-xxed · 1 month ago

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I need Remmick being so down bad for his human wife pretty please

Work Song

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

A/N; I needed this too so thank you for this request 🙏 I love a man that’s down bad and obsessed, those are the best kind ^_^ the title for this one takes after Hozier’s Work Song of course since I was thinking about it while writing this :P I hope you enjoy, and thank you again for requesting!! (Also apologies for me going overboard, I got way too invested in the backstory and couldn’t stop myself :’D)

Summary; Remmick comes home to his wife.

Content; NSFW 18+, AFAB reader, human reader, down bad Remmick!!, soft Remmick, possessive Remmick, vampirism, cleaning him up, married to Remmick, soft sex, fingering, piv sex, cuddling, he doesn’t know how to handle “I love you”, fluff

Wc; 6.2k

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

The house is dark and quiet when the door opens with the smallest squeak, resting on old hinges gone too long without oil.

The curtains are drawn tight, the material thicker than your typical run of the mill, assuring no light can sneak through the cracks. The air is fresh with recent movement, signs of a home well lived in with pictures hung on the wall and shoes in a small rack by the door. That’s where Remmick leaves his dust covered boots so he doesn’t track red speckled dirt all over your nice clean floors. He tosses his stained button up in the wash bin you set out for him too, just his white tank remaining as his suspenders fall loose around his hips. Stepping inside your place is like a balm on his unsettled, angry soul, letting him leave everything else behind just for a little while.

Your home is the only one he’s allowed himself to become familiar with, the only one he’s stayed at for longer than a couple months. He knows every hall, every creaky wooden floorboard, every small detail at an almost intimate level. He follows the path he’s gone down hundreds of times, the one that leads him right to your bedroom. Your scent brings him there just the same—sweet and flowery like a perfect spring day, a tantalizing whisper of iron hiding beneath.

Remmick nudges the bedroom door open, his eyes flickering in the dim lighting, red simmering in the blue-gray like the last embers of a dying fire. It’s strange how instantly something within him is calmed at the sight of you, something deep and possessive and maybe even predatory that finally quiets when it realizes you’re still here. Your form is tucked beneath the sheets, blissfully warm and cozy and utterly perfect. He sees a book tossed aside to the corner of the bed, like you’d tried to stay awake for him but ultimately gave up and fell asleep. He can hear your gentle breaths, the quiet thrum of your heart that taunts him.

His steps are near silent when he makes his way over to you. You lay on your stomach, a pillow hugged between both arms, your pretty mouth parted just slightly. You look serene in sleep, an angel come down to earth just for a devil like him. Remmick reaches forward, brushing a stray curl from your face with a tenderness most would think impossible for himself—with his hands that have taken too many lives to count, that are stained with blood every night. But with you they’re gentle, able to rediscover a mushy part of him that was buried centuries ago.

Your eyebrows pinch and you mumble indistinctly when his chilled hand rests on your cheek, relishing in the feeling of your soft skin beneath his calloused palm. He’s a little warmer tonight though, with fresh blood still flowing through him, but it’s never enough to completely chase off the cold bite of death. He leans down to pepper kisses across your face, steadily moving to your neck where he pauses, his blunt teeth teasing along your jugular and inhaling your scent like it’s a lifeline.

Under his attention is how you finally wake, shaken from meaningless dreams by frigid fingers and loving kisses. You smile lazily, stretching your arms and twisting so you’re on your back to face him. You paw at him, pulling him in with no resistance—he’d happily follow your touch wherever you wanted him to go. Your lips meet briefly, a pleased noise rumbling from him before you pull away. “You’re back.” You say, sleep still edging your words. You breathe him in contentedly, your fingers coming up to run through his short hair. He still has that signature metallic tang on him despite his efforts to clean up before coming home. “Was worried ‘bout you.”

“Aw darlin’, you ain’t have to do that. You know I’ll always come back to ya.” Remmick says, his deep voice sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. One of his hands rests above the covers on your waist now, the weight of it comforting and familiar. He huffs, shaking his head. “Shit, thought ‘bout ya all night.”

It’s true, he really was thinking about you the whole time—something he finds himself doing a lot recently. He thinks about you from the moment he leaves your house because of the undeniable call of his hunger, all the way to when he finally returns hours later. He’ll think about wishing he could stay around when your eyes start to droop and the mortal need for sleep takes you away, when you subconsciously curl into him searching for warmth that isn’t there. He hates having to move you off of him so he can go, so he can step out into the unforgiving darkness of night in search of a life to steal. You do make the cutest little noises though, something like a disgruntled cat’s. He’ll tuck you in real nice and kiss you sweetly to make sure you don’t miss him too much, and so he can seal the image in his memory to keep him motivated—a reminder of what he gets to come home to.

“You were gone for so long.” You say with a small pout, holding his face in your hands, his light stubble tickling your palms. The gold ring you wear glints in the darkness, a twin to his own.

He tilts his head so his lips connect with your hand, nuzzling into your touch that he always seems to crave. “Just got caught up with some things s’all.” He’d cut it close tonight, the sun appearing like a reckoning seconds after he’d shut the door. “I’m here now, darlin’.”

You smile at that, pulling him in again to kiss him, enjoying the taste of him. There’s always something metallic hiding beneath every bit of him, something too old for your mind to comprehend, something otherworldly. For most it would be unnerving and terrifying but for you, that’s just your husband, your Remmick. You’d accepted that when you agreed to marry him about three years ago, opening your arms and home to him and every unnatural part that came with him.

It was two years before that when you’d actually met him, the memory always sitting clear in your mind like it happened yesterday.

You’d spent the whole day baking—cookies, pies, cobblers, tarts… the list went on as you prepared for the market happening in town the next morning. You prided yourself on your baked goods, and people always bought you out. The whole house smelled of your efforts, the scent carrying out the open windows and into the trees beyond. You hadn’t heard it at first, the whispers in the leaves, the way all the animals went silent, the world seeming to hold its breath for just a moment. You’d been too busy singing a song you knew by heart as you were prone to do whenever working in the kitchen. (Remmick has told you countless times how much he adores your voice, he says it’s like a fine wine).

You were rotating the food left to cool on the windowsill when you saw him, standing out there by the tree line, watching you with eyes that at first gave you the willies. “Hey there,” you’d called, watching as he flinched at the sound of your voice, “what brings ya over?”

He’d taken a few curious steps towards the house, letting you get a better look at him. Worn button up loosely tucked into high waisted trousers, a white tank hidden beneath, suspenders over the shoulders, old boots, and a banjo slung across his back. He looked like a man who traveled often, never staying in one place long enough to learn the style of it. His face looked kind, set with strong features on stocky shoulders that suggested he was no stranger to hard work. His short black hair was messy but in a presentable way, curled bangs sitting on his forehead. Still, you knew there was something deeper about him that was off, that didn’t belong in your realm of living.

His hands were loosely in his pockets and he shrugged. “Smelled somethin’ mighty sweet, heard somethin’ even sweeter. You got a beautiful voice, darlin’.” He’d given you a close-lipped smile, one that made his eyes crinkle at the edges. His southern drawl was thick like syrup, coated across every word with something mixed in that you couldn’t quite place.

“Oh, I‘ve got years of church choir to thank for that.” You’d joked. You’d tilted your head. “Would you like to try anything, sir? I could always use a taste tester.”

He’d hesitated for a moment longer than would be normal, as if debating something serious in his mind, before shaking his head. He chuckled. “Nah, I’m tryin’ to cut back.”

“Aw, that’s a shame. If you change your mind, I’ll be at the market tomorrow. Feel free to stop by.” You’d said. He’d smiled back at you in a way that suggested he knew something you didn’t, told you that you wouldn’t be seeing him at the market or any day after that.

As soon as the sun went down though, he continued appearing in your backyard. He never stayed long at first, only sticking around to strike up a brief conversation. You’d learned his name, Remmick, and he had learned yours. Your name was always soft on his tongue, like he needed to be careful with something precious. He listened to you talk like you spoke the gospel, reverence in those blue-gray eyes as he never missed a word. In turn he would tell you stories of a time long ago, weaving vibrant imagery that made you feel as if you were standing in the green fields of a country far away. It confirmed things about him that you already suspected, like how he wasn’t from here at all, that he came from something hundreds or maybe even thousands of years old.

You’d sit on your little porch swing while he’d remain in the grass leaning against the railing, never truly breaching the line of your home. The night was warm and muggy, and there was a lull in your conversation, causing your gaze to travel to the banjo he continued to carry with him. “You any good on that thing?” You’d asked with a nod towards it.

Remmick huffed. “I like to think I am.”

You smirked. “Play me somethin’.”

He’d given you that signature smile. “Well, can’t deny a pretty thing like you, can I?”

He was always quick to flatter you, and you had to admit it was getting to you a little, something foreign fluttering in your chest. He’d swung the instrument around, resting it in deft hands and idly strumming a string or two as he thought about what to play. He’d then struck the first few chords and you quickly realized you recognized the song, it being one your family had shared together for years. You couldn’t help but sing along, shutting your eyes and letting yourself feel the music within as your body swayed. It meant that you missed the way Remmick looked at you, like you were heaven come to earth, adoration and reverence burning in his eyes like the hottest fire. That was the moment something clicked into place for him, that cemented his need to have you in whatever way he could.

He was downright obsessed with you. He couldn’t stay away from you and your sweet voice, your mouth watering smell, your entire being that seemed to be kissed by the sun. He knew he’d do anything to stay in your warmth, in your blessing. He kept coming by night after night, staying as long as his hunger allowed or until you couldn’t stop yawning and finally headed to bed with a sleepy goodnight. Part of him wished to follow you inside, thinking of how easy it’d be to take you in the carnal way he secretly desired, to lock you to him for eternity, but Remmick always held back, another part of him not wanting to ruin what you have. After all, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a civil conversation with someone that didn’t end with their blood smeared along his face. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been shown such simple kindness, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so human.

You didn’t know how much time passed like that, with easy talks and shared songs into the late hours when everybody else would be asleep. You always kept your physical distance, as did he, like some unspoken understanding. The emotional distance was another story, something that was shortening by the day. Feelings were blooming into something out of control, mixing with your desire in order to make a sickly concoction.

You both knew you were onto him, onto the fact he was something unnatural and ancient, but you never bothered to bring it up. You’d heard enough stories from your momma about things like him, you understood how dangerous they were but… you couldn’t find it in yourself to chase him off. You’d grown too fond of him, of his stupid smile and charming words, his endless stories and soothing voice. He felt much the same and yet… you were at some kind of mutual standstill, neither of you quite knowing what to do with it.

Until the one night he didn’t show up.

You’d waited. You’d sat on the porch with furrowed brows and downturned lips, disappointment sitting heavy behind your heart. Had he gotten bored of you? Decided to disappear without a word? You’d supposed it wasn’t a shock, it happened to you all the time. You gave him an hour before you sighed in defeat, heading back inside so the bugs didn’t eat you alive for nothing. You tried to ignore the hurt you felt, knowing it was useless to feel it over someone—something—like him. He didn’t owe you anything, hell, you were lucky he hadn’t killed you. Maybe it was some kind of sign. You’d gone to bed just as thunder rumbled outside, lightning flickering between the clouds.

You were woken hours later by a knock on your back door. You’d grumbled and wrapped a robe around yourself, trudging down the hall and to the kitchen, eyeing the silhouette hidden behind the mesh screen. There was something whispering to not open it, to protect yourself and just crawl right back into bed. You noticed the silence that had settled around your home, the one that made the frogs quiet and the crickets cease their songs, the one always followed by a familiar figure. You knew something was off, could feel it in your bones, but it didn’t stop you from opening that door.

You’d gasped so sharply that it hurt, your body stumbling back a step. Remmick stood there, blood covering his front half, his eyes gleaming a deep red that reflected in the same way an animal’s did. The whole way he carried himself was different, more predatory and deadly, poised to kill at a moments notice. His clothes were disshelved, his bangs plastered to his forehead from sweat. The wind carried the smell of him to you, ancient earth and leather tainted with the iron of blood. He opened his mouth and you saw the teeth sharpened to fangs, coated with his meal.

He smiled at you, and it was no longer one that made your heart flutter. It sent a cold shiver down your spine. “You gon’ let me in, darlin’? Or just keep starin’?”

He liked the way you looked at him then, like everything finally snapped into place for you. Mixed with your fear was a kind of defiance, like you were trying to tell yourself not to be frightened. He liked you seeing him for what he truly was, liked knowing you still wouldn’t cower. It’s what made you step aside and say those simple words, even though you knew your momma was surely rolling in her grave at your stupidity.

Something heavy shifted when he stepped inside your home. Something that told you it could never be undone and you’d have to bear the consequences, but you found that you didn’t care. “So that’s what you are,” you muttered, “a vampire.” You’d heard of them before from your momma, you knew how to kill one. You were pretty sure there was even some kind of emergency kit hidden in a closet somewhere.

Remmick chuckled low and dark, shaking his head. “You knew this whole time and you ain’t ever run or scream or cry…” He smirked, triumphant. “I knew you was somethin’ special, darlin’.”

He sat in a chair at your dining table like it belonged to him, his eyes traveling around your home as he swallowed down every bit of information he could glean about you. The floral designs on the dish cloths, portraits hung on the walls, keepsakes littering empty spaces, and a thick recipe book sitting on the counter—all of it a testament to you, the woman he didn’t stop thinking about night after night. Your scent was so heavy in your home it made it feel like he was breathing in a drug every time he inhaled and fuck- he couldn’t get enough. He wanted it to live inside him, he wanted you to make your home in his veins, in the space between his ribs. He wanted you with him forever.

He watched with a predator’s gaze as you filled a bowl with water, desperate to do something to keep yourself busy. It was brave of you to keep your back to him, but it was like you knew he wouldn’t do anything unless you asked. He’d get on his knees for you if you wanted, he’d beg just to hear his name fall from your lips.

You grabbed one of your pretty little dish rags, setting it and the bowl next to him while you sat in front of him, so close your knees almost touched. He could tell how much you were trying to hide your fear from your expression but he still saw it in your furrowed brows and pressed lips and your eyes that were just a bit too wide. “I’m scarin’ ya.” He said it like a fact, one without room for dispute. His fierce red irises bore into yours, seeing everything you wanted to hide. You went to protest, your trembling mouth opening before he shushed you. “Don’t lie. I can smell it.” It was potent and intoxicating, seeping from your pores and making drool threaten to fall down his chin.

“I ain’t scared of you.” You said with a false confidence. You dipped the rag into the warm water and suddenly grabbed his face in one hand as if to prove it, shocking the both of you with your boldness. Remmick visibly shuddered under your touch, his eyes fluttering briefly and a small noise coming from him, even as your fingers dug into the plush of his cheeks. Oh, how long he’d waited to feel your hands on him, the warmth of your humanity, the softness of your skin. He couldn’t believe he’d gone this long without it, without something that was clearly so vital to his very existence. He knew then he could never go another day without touching you.

“Don’t want you makin’ a mess in my house.” You muttered like an excuse, dragging the rag across his upper lip and moving down, taking the blood with it. He was more than willing to relax into your ministrations, letting you clean him as if he was a child. Nobody had ever done it for him before, after all. He watched you all the while—the crease between your brows, the determined curve of your mouth, studying every detail and committing it to memory.

“I ain’t a stranger to blood, you know. My daddy used to be a doctor.” You began after a good few minutes, talking to keep yourself distracted from the reality of your situation. Remmick didn’t mind of course, he loved your voice more than life itself. His attention immediately shifted towards the sound like a dog with its ears perked.

“Used to?” He’d asked.

“He died in the war. Momma went soon after, they basically said heartbreak caused her stroke n’ killed her.” Your head shook. “She really loved that man to death. Couldn’t blame her, he was the kindest soul you’d ever meet. Always helpin’ the poor and needy, bringing ‘em into the house to heal ‘em when they couldn’t afford their bills. He’d make me help sometimes, getting fresh water and whatnot. That’s why you ain’t nothin’ special.”

“How sweet of ya.” Remmick teased, his fangs showing with his uneven smile.

You’d ignored him, rubbing the cloth along his collarbones and across the gold chain he wore, clearly beginning to discolor from age. The water in the bowl had long since turned red, your dishrag officially ruined but it was the least of your concerns (and Remmick had gotten you a new one later on).

When you’d deemed him clean enough, you moved to get up and dump the bloody water before his large, cold hand latched onto your wrist, stopping you abruptly. It was like the tension was pulled taught as a bowstring at that moment, some small seedling of doubt in you saying he was about to kill you while he just stared at where your bodies were connected. It was slow and purposeful when Remmick brought your hand up to his mouth and ran his lips along your palm, breathing you in, tasting you with darts of his tongue. You felt the flush crawl up the back of your neck and across your cheeks, watching as he nuzzled into your hand, looking at you with those wide red eyes, every reminder of the last couple months together hanging there. Every shared story, every vulnerability, every song sung together.

“I need ya, sweet thing, shoot- I’ve needed ya since that first day. I’ll treat ya nice and good, I swear it on my dead heart.” Remmick said to you, his words thick, heavy, and gravelly with his desire. “You’ll never want for nothin’, darlin’, I’ll give ya everythin’, I promise. Please, baby, let me prove it to ya-“

He continued to kiss along your arm, so determined to show you the truth behind his words, to make you give in to him with murmured pleas and prayers. He relished in the taste of you, his breaths growing labored from his excitement. You stopped him with your hands on either side of his face to pull him back, his lips parted and shiny with spit, his eyes still glowing red but full of unbridled desire for you. You already knew your answer, had known it the whole time. You were so tired of being alone, so tired of searching for someone, anyone, to love you and understand you. You didn’t care that the only one who did was a monster in the body of a man—there was something about it that made it even sweeter.

So you’d agreed.

There was only a second of pause, like Remmick was processing it, those simple words that tilted his entire world, before he was on you. He kissed you with such ferocity, such possession, his hands roaming all over you, gripping you so tightly you had no choice but to submit to him. He’d swept you up with ease, carrying you into your bedroom where he’d fucked you stupid until the sun rose, pulling more orgasms from you than you thought possible, pinning you beneath his sweat soaked body and filling you again and again, whispering his thanks and devotions the entire time. You’d slept through the whole day after that with Remmick cradling you against his cooled body, encasing you in his arms like he was afraid you’d take it all back if he let go.

That was how you fell into the routine of your relationship. He’d spend the light hours tucked away inside the safety of your house while you went about your day, then he’d leave most nights in search of food before coming back hours later and fucking you senseless, exhilarated from both the hunt and seeing you again. Remmick made you feel more loved and protected than you ever had before, always saying praises and promises into your skin like a prayer you’d hear in church, always giving you everything he had to offer. He’d sometimes even bring you gifts after his hunts, little things he knew you’d like. Fresh berries he stole from a garden or farm, beautiful flowers to go right on the table, a book or two he was able to snag off somebody.

It went on like this for months, and then it became a year, then two, until Remmick couldn’t take it anymore and he decided he needed you in a way that was deeper than what he’d been indulging in. It didn’t mean you getting bit, no, not yet, it meant you got presented with a pretty gold ring that matched his own. He asked you to marry him on a warm summers night, when fireflies were dancing outside and the critters of the moon were singing their songs. You’d said yes without hesitation, flinging your arms around him and kissing him until you both ran out of breath. You’d spent the rest of the moon hours dancing and singing and making love, too full of joy to do much else.

It was the best way for Remmick to have you forever, for every other man to know you belonged to him. He knew that one day he would bite you, he would drain the life from your body, he’d taste the sweet nectar of your blood that he so craved, he’d make you just like him and truly keep you for eternity. But that day wasn’t coming anytime soon.

He refused to be greedy just this once, deciding he wasn’t ready to take away your love of sunny days and the warmth of your skin, the thrum of a pulse in your veins. He wasn’t ready to ruin the simple pleasures of being a human being. But he knew he could never stand to lose you to something as menial as old age, or stand by and let some tragedy befall you. Biting you is like his sick way of protecting you, of showing you his love and devotion, even if you don’t know it yet, even if it takes you time to understand. It’d happen no matter what, he knew, but he’d let you enjoy those bright days in ignorance a little while longer.

Remmick can smell it on you now, the hours you’d spent in the sun earlier today, selling your baked goods at the market. The coldness within his bones seeks out your heat, desperate to bask in it and take it for his own. You give him a pleased hum as he grips your waist, blankets being moved aside to reveal your body to him. You’re pliant in his hold, always eager to give in, always eager to let him take control. It’s nice when you can step outside of yourself and just be, something you’ve only been able to do with him.

You can tell that he’s softer this time, his touch more reverent, something about it full of more longing like he’s memorizing every bit of you. He holds you like a man making love to his wife, not a monster clutching his possession so nobody else takes it. His mouth on yours is sensual, a twin to the hands beneath your nightdress, steadily bunching the material up your body so the air kisses along your flesh and leaves goosebumps in its wake.

“Shit, darlin’, yer too perfect.” Remmick mutters, nearly breathless as he looks down at you, your supple curves, the expanse of your breasts and stomach that nearly has him drooling—not from hunger, but from pure want- no, pure need for you. Even after all this time, his attention still makes you squirm, your thighs squeezing together subconsciously. His eyes track the movement like a predator, the burning hue of red steadily consuming his irises once more.

One of his hands moves lower, parting your legs with ease and running his fingers along your clothed cunt. He hums to himself, feeling the way your wetness has dampened your underwear. “Missed me, huh?” He says, his crooked teeth showing in his smirk. He loves that all you can do is nod, a pathetic little noise coming from you. The scent of your arousal hits him like a truck, a guttural groan tearing from his chest as it seems to ignite his blood with desire. You smell so goddamn sweet, like the ripest fruit sitting ready for him to take and sink his teeth into.

Your underwear is moved aside and you jolt at that first contact, his fingers dragging up through your folds and collecting your slick. You whimper as he buries his face in the crook of your neck again, a deep groan coming from him with his inhale. As his thumb rolls your clit, his other hand comes up to knead a breast beneath his palm, the cold metal of his ring nipping at your skin. You can feel the way Remmick’s chest heaves against you, his desperate breaths fanning across your throat between his open-mouthed kisses.

You gasp when two fingers sink into your heat, your hands coming to scrabble at his shoulders. You always take him easily, your body attuned to him alone, like he’s branded into your very essence. It drives him crazy. “Fuck, Remmick-“ You whine, arching into his touch. He responds instantly to you saying his name; a harsher squeeze to your breast, a little show of his teeth against your neck, his hips rutting against you in search of friction. His name coming from you is like touching two wires together, sending sparks through his rotten veins. He’d happily walk into the sun as long as your voice is the last thing he hears.

You writhe under his weight, pleasure running like a wildfire beneath your skin. He devours every moan, whine, and gasp he pulls out of you, his erection painful in his pants from his lust and need. His fingers draw in and out of your cunt in smooth motions, pressing against the spots that have you keening, scissoring you open while your slick coats his palm. His thumb traces quick circles over your clit, listening to the way your body sings for him. He knows you’re close, your noises raising in pitch, your nails digging into his back, your pussy clenching around his fingers.

“C’mon darlin’, give it to me.” Remmick encourages, lifting just enough to look at your face, your expression twisted with pleasure. Tears edging the corners of your eyes, your pretty mouth dropped open, your cheeks flushed. Your hands rest of either side of his jaw, drawing him in and kissing him deeply as your orgasm crashes over you. He groans appreciatively while you moan into his mouth, shudders wracking your body. He rides you through your orgasm, steadily bringing you down from that high as he practically engulfs you with his muscled form like he needs there to not be a singular inch of space between you. “My sweet girl.” He whispers against your mouth, a string of spit connecting you, his eyes ablaze with his desire.

As your underwear is tossed to some unknown corner, he fumbles with the buckle of his belt, shoving it aside to finally free his aching cock, precum beading at the tip. He runs his slick-covered hand along his length, happily coating himself in your release. He gives a sound halfway between a hum and a moan. “Fuck, darlin’, I need ya…” He practically gasps against your collarbones, his cock slipping between your folds, collecting the remainder of your cum. “Need ya so bad.”

You both moan in tandem when he at last thrusts into you, his hips flush to yours and filling you so completely in the way he’s done countless times before. His hand suddenly finds yours, your fingers intertwining and gripping on to the other so tightly it’s like you’re scared they’ll disappear if you let go. He draws out to the tip only to then slam back in, ecstasy simmering in his veins now that he can take you. He bites your skin between his blunt teeth, teasing that goldmine of ambrosia waiting just beneath, calling to him. He’s dreamt of the day he can finally drink from you, can finally have more than just the few drops that bubble to the surface from a cut or him biting too hard. He pushes those thoughts away now, not daring to tempt his appetite and instead focusing on the way your pussy holds onto him like a vice.

Your free hand comes up to card through his sweat-soaked hair, his short bangs plastered to his forehead. You grip at the strands for purchase as he sets an unrelenting, steady pace, his desperate pleas and vows to you a constant in your ear. You know for a fact no man’s ever loved you the way he does, no man’s ever been this desperate for you, so willing to get on his knees just for you to look at him. You welcomed him in, gave him something to hold on to and call his own, some place to belong—and he’ll spend the rest of his eternity showing you his gratitude.

You moan loud after a particularly harsh thrust, his grip on you tightening as he hits that sweet spot inside of you, the one that knocks the breath from your lungs and has you seeing stars. “So beautiful, sweet girl, y’sound so nice.” Remmick pants, his drool that’s begun to fall smearing along your skin. “Feel so good, so fuckin’ tight fer me.”

You practically chant his name mixed with a slew of curses, voice punctuated by his rutting into you. He has you pinned to the mattress, his muscles flexing against you with his efforts, making sure you stay right where he wants you. He licks up your neck, tasting the saltiness of your sweat, inhaling the drug that is your scent, heightened by your pleasure and mixed with something intoxicating. His groan falls off into a whine, mind overridden by his adoration for you and his lust, chasing the release he can feel building.

He knows it’s the same for you, he can feel your flutters around his cock, that knot within you growing to the point of soon coming undone. His free hand releases your hip to find your clit, rubbing jerky, uneven circles over the sensitive bud while you writhe in an attempt to get away from the overload of pleasure. Remmick never gives you the chance, your body tensing as that second orgasm crashes over you like an angry wave, your noises becoming broken and breathless.

Remmick’s eyes nearly roll back from the way your pussy grips his cock, his forehead falling to your chest as he tries to laugh and fails. “Shit, suckin’ me in. Fuck, sweet thing- I can’t-“ He manages one last thrust before he cums deep inside you, his words breaking off with a wail, your walls painted white with his spend.

You both lay there for a moment, motionless in the aftermath of release, combined sweat covering your bodies and your hands still locked together. You and him shudder when his cock slips out of you, your shared cum beginning to seep from you in his absence.

Remmick is the first to regain himself, as always, his lips leaving gentle kisses on the space between your breasts and up your throat and jaw before reaching your mouth. He kisses you sweetly, then pulling back to bring your hand to his lips, leaving a gentle kiss on your knuckles, on your wedding ring. “My perfect girl.” He murmurs. “So good to me.”

You smile tiredly, your arms slinging across his shoulders. “Could say the same to you.” You tease. You then sigh contentedly, bringing him in and encouraging him to lay on your chest. “I love you, Remmick, I hope you know that.”

Those three words, so simple and yet so damning, always make him stop. He has to run them over in his mind, like he doesn’t believe they can actually be said to a thing like him. His hold on your hips tightens, his face nuzzling into you as if to hide from that phrase. “‘Course I do. Love you too, darlin’.” He mumbles, the words still foreign on his old tongue. Your smile softens, your fingers running soothingly through his hair. You pull the covers back up around you both, encasing him in the warmth that he lacks.

Outside, you can hear the familiar early morning sounds of the South; the birds chirping, the bugs buzzing in their swarms, and the occasional car sputtering by. The world wakes up beyond your reinforced curtains, basking in the sunlight that Remmick so violently hides away from. He knows that in a few hours you’ll go out and join them, greeting your neighbors and sharing recent news, playing a game of normalcy so nobody asks too many questions about the husband they’ve never seen.

But for right now, he’ll enjoy being able to hold you and feel your body right against his, your steady heartbeat drumming in his ear as sleep pulls you away. He’ll enjoy having you all to himself in the safety of the dark before you step out into the daylight and leave him behind.

#finally finished editing this omg #sorry for the wait!!#I hope this is alright 🧎#sinners Remmick #remmick #remmick x reader #remmick smut #vampire fanfic #jinx-xxed asks

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