#ok thank you ilu bai bai

[quinloki]

Alas the existence of humanity is too much.

I shall return anon.

[ar-mage-ddon]

Hi i really love your art. You're incredibly talented. You're lines are gorgeous. You're gorgeous. ilu ok bai

❤️ (⁠ﾉ⁠◕⁠ヮ⁠◕⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧

waugh thank you...... you're too kind........

[vcepsis]

Would you do K+3 for your babies Sheith pleeeease? With cherry on top? ❤

thank so very much ilu

From this drabble ask  (and hey if anyone else wants one feel free to send me an ask)

So the meme is for a drabble but I uhhhhhhhh wrote 2k so have some Shiro suffering under the cut (this is my first time writing for vld so I hope it turned out ok)

--

When this was over, Keith was going to see to it personally that this planet was bombarded from space.

He wrapped his good arm around his knees, gritting his teeth as Shiro coughed next to him, the sound wet and horrible.

They were coming up on day two of being stranded on this planet, and Keith didn’t like it any more than when they had first arrived. It was supposed to be a simple diplomatic mission: make contact with the locals, shake some hands, gush about Voltron and the fight against the Galra, go home.

Keith remembered looking forward to it: a mission with just him and Shiro. And Pidge, but, well, she would probably lose herself in the planet’s tech almost immediately, so she didn’t count. Keith also remembered the deliberation to cancel the mission when Shiro had picked up a virus the week before, with symptoms similar to a bad cold. But in the end, Shiro had managed to recover enough that it was decided to push forward with the original plan.

Shiro had brushed off Keith’s concerns, insisting he was fine. And he had looked fine as well; in fact, the only indication that he’d been sick was a lingering cough, and even that wasn’t too bad.

The species that lived here was skittish, and not under Galra control. While their technology was impressive, they were used to keeping a low profile so as not to attract Galra attention. It was decided (by Allura and Shiro, mostly) to only bring the Green Lion, to not scare off these potential new allies.

Unfortunately, their secret keeping abilities weren’t quite as advertised. Because no sooner were Keith and Shiro meeting with a group of their leaders, the Galra attacked.

Of course, the locals blamed the Paladins for the Galra’s sudden appearance, and left them to fend for themselves. Luckily, Keith and Shiro had been together, and while Pidge had been alone, she had managed to get to her Lion.

”There’s too many of them!“ she had cried over the comms. ”I can’t get to you!“

“It’s fine!” Shiro had called back as he and Keith sprinted through the jungle terrain, a small army on their tail. “Just go!”

“I’ll contact the Castle, we’ll be back as soon as we can!” With that, the line went dead, and Keith and Shiro were on their own.

In the process of escaping, they had gotten pretty banged up: Keith would have a collection of impressive bruises come morning, and he was pretty sure his left arm was broken from a three-on-one fight. It paled, however, in comparison to Shiro. He’d taken two direct shots to the chest from a hidden Galra soldier, and while the armor stopped the shots from tearing through him, it didn’t stop a few of his ribs from breaking.

It had taken time, luck, and more than a few close calls, but they finally managed to find a small, shallow cave, naturally protruding from a large moss covered rock. It seemed the Galra had turned most of their attention to the fight in the sky and in the city. So they had settled in, expecting rescue to come fairly quickly.

It didn’t.

The only thing Keith could think of was that the planet was under heavy fire, and the others couldn’t getto them. Attempting to raise them on the comms did nothing as well.

Shiro continued to cough, and Keith looked over at him, trying to keep the panic at bay. After a few minutes, the fit finally subsided, and Shiro rested his head on the rock wall behind him. His breaths were coming in short, shallow gasps, and sweat plastered the white of his bangs to his face. The whole planet was just so warm and humid and gross. Keith felt the sweat beading in his own hair and under his armor.

Shiro looked over at him, turning his head without lifting it. Despite the heat, his face was pale, making the red of his scar more prominent. “How’s the arm?”

Keith shrugged his good shoulder. When they first found their makeshift camp, Shiro had managed to set and wrap Keith’s arm pretty well, despite the shaking in his hands and his own injuries. The pain had been excruciating at the time, but had eventually faded to a dull throb that Keith was able to tolerate. “As good as it’ll be. How about you?”

It was a dumb question, but Shiro gave him a soft smile. “S'ok. Not bad.”

They hadn’t been able to do much for Shiro: the armor covering his chest and stomach had been removed, leaving him in his black under suit. Keith had hoped it would make it easier for Shiro to breathe, but it wasn’t going well. That cough was making Keith nervous, especially with the wet edge it had recently taken on. The humid environment, broken ribs, and last remnants of that virus were creating the perfect storm in Shiro’s lungs. Truth be told, it was scaring Keith.

“Maybe you should lie down?” Keith asked hesitantly, unable to keep the worry out of his voice. God, he was just so bad at this. There were lines of pain etched into Shiro’s tired face, and Keith wanted nothing more than to make them go away.

Shiro shook his head slowly, closing his eyes when the small movement made him dizzy. “Can't–can’t breathe, like that.”

They had a bit of distance between them; Keith told himself it was to not crowd Shiro, but in reality, he was just scared. Scared that if he touched him, he would do something wrong and end up hurting Shiro even more.

“You’re quiet,” Shiro said softly, breaking Keith out of his spiraling thoughts. “You sure you’re ok?”

Keith had to laugh at that; it was either that or burst into hysterical tears. “Me? What about you?”

Shiro chuckled softly, which set off another round of rough sounding coughing he tried to smother into his fist. When he was done he was blinking tears out of his eyes. “It’s fine. Only—hurts when I breathe.”

Keith shot him a look. “You’re not funny.”

“I’m hilarious,” Shiro responded, voice practically gone. His breath was rattling in his lungs. Pneumonia flitted through Keith’s mind, but he had to quash it down; he already felt like he was barely holding it together, seeing Shiro hurting so badly and not being able to do anything about it. He didn’t need anything else adding to his stress levels.

Shiro shifted slightly, hissing in pain when it jostled his battered ribs. “What are you doing?” Keith asked, the sound sharper than he intended. “Sit still, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

Shiro blinked at him, and Keith noticed with alarm that he seemed less aware than just a moment ago. “S'cold. Wanted to…get closer.”

Cold? Keith frowned, confused. It was the exact opposite of cold here; Keith felt the humidity under his skin, felt the warm air sticking his bangs to his face.

Then it dawned on him. He scooted closer, finally crossing the distance between them. Pulling off a glove with his teeth, he pressed his hand to Shiro’s forehead, gently lifting the bangs away. Yes, it was warm out here, but even Keith could tell the heat radiating off Shiro wasn’t normal.

“Shit.” Keith couldn’t stop the curse from rolling off his tongue. Panic bloomed in his chest anew, washing over him like a wave, ripping through him like a thunderstorm.

Shiro blinked slowly at him, not understanding. “Keith?” The sound was so soft, so worried, and Keith felt sick.

“It's—it’s fine, Shiro. Do you want to try to sleep?”

“What about you?” Shiro asked, voice still raspy. “You haven’t slept since we got here.”

There was no way Keith could even consider sleep, not now. Not with Shiro hurt so badly. “Neither have you. You’ll feel better if you sleep.”

The lie was obvious, but Shiro hummed in response, eyes already slipping closed. He scooted down the wall a bit so his head was level with Keith’s good shoulder, resting on it. Keith sat up as straight as he could so Shiro could still sit in a somewhat upright position. Keith found himself wishing he had taken off his own armor; sleeping on it couldn’t be comfortable. But he wanted to be ready in case the Galra came back. Besides, taking off his armor felt a little like defeat—as if the action would be admitting they wouldn’t be rescued for a while yet.

Despite not sleeping since they landed, Keith felt wide awake. Shiro’s head was heavy on his shoulder, his good arm caught underneath. Out of the corner of his eye, Keith saw that their hands were just inches apart, resting on the ground between them. Slowly, carefully, Keith moved his hand so it was over Shiro’s, giving it a gentle squeeze. Shiro sighed a bit in his sleep.

Looking over, Keith took in Shiro’s pale complexion, save for the faint flush beginning to bloom across his cheeks, and listened to the labored sounds of his breathing. At least he was breathing. Keith tried to focus on that rather than the fear coursing through him.

They stayed like that for a while, Keith eventually leaning his head gently on top of Shiro’s. Suddenly, his helmet crackled from where it sat a few feet away, making Keith jump a bit. “—ith? You there?”

Keith blinked, taking a second to process it, then lunged for the helmet. The movement startled Shiro awake, who managed to catch himself before falling on his face. Keith made a grab for the helmet with the arm Shiro wasn’t resting on, which, unfortunately, was his broken arm, and he cursed loudly as the pain shot through it anew. Jamming the helmet on his head, he heard the static sounds of jumbled voices on the other end. “I’m here. We need a pick up, stat.”

“Keith!” It was Lance. Never in his entire life did Keith think he’d be so happy to hear his stupid voice. “Where are you? We tried to contact Shiro, is he withyou?”

“Yeah, he’s here.” Shiro had managed to shift so he was leaning back against the rock, eyes closed tightly in pain.

“Thank God,” Lance said, relief evident in his voice. “We couldn’t reach him, it was freaking us out. Are you guys ok?”

Keith looked over at Shiro. His head was resting against the rock wall, arm draped loosely around his stomach, panting hard. “Shiro’s hurt. You need to get here, now.”

Lance cursed. “Where are you? There’s a break in the fighting, I’m pretty sure I can come get you in Blue.”

“I’ll send you our coordinates,” Keith replied, already bringing up the armor’s floating touch screen. Shiro was looking at Keith now, brows up in question. “Lance is on his way.”

Shiro smiled, and though it was tired and hazy, it was like the sun coming out. “That’s good. But tell him to be caref—” The rest of his sentence was abruptly cut off by a coughing fit that sounded worse than all the others combined, practically doubling him over with the force of it. Keith’s relief at contacting the team quickly turned back to that familiar, heavy feeling of dread he’d had for the past two days. He scrambled over to Shiro, rubbing his back as he worked through the fit. When he was done, his lips were flecked with red.

Keith’s eyes widened at the sight. He grabbed Shiro’s hand roughly, turning it palm up to see the fabric of his glove nearly soaked in blood, which Keith could see even against the dark fabric. Shiro was practically gasping for breath, too exhausted to protest Keith’s manhandling.

“Lance,” Keith said into the helmet, voice just this side of hysterical. “Hurry.”

“On my way.” Lance’s voice was serious, for a change.

Shiro was slumped against Keith, breathing hard and fast. Keith put his arms around him, ignoring the scream of protest from his broken arm. “Lance is on his way, alright?You’re gonna be fine, ok?”

Shiro looked up at him, though his glazed eyes didn’t seem to really be seeing Keith. “Yeah,” Shiro agreed softly. “Everything’s….gonna be ok. You’ll be…” Before he could finish the thought, his eyes fluttered shut and he went boneless in Keith’s arms, unconscious.

Keith wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take. “Lance!”

“I know, I know, I’m coming!” The sounds of battle came through the comms, along with low grunts as Lance fought through it.

Keith tightened his hold on Shiro, the pain in his arm secondary to the fear that had taken root in his chest. “It’s ok. You’re ok.” Keith wasn’t sure if he was talking to Shiro or himself at this point. He rested his head on top of Shiro’s, frustrated that the helmet was in the way. But he could hear the sound of Shiro’s breathing, shallow as it was, and focused on that. “I’ve got you.”

And five days later, when Shiro stumbled out of the pod, Keith was the one to catch him.

[winetae]

⇾ cross the line (m).

idol!au + impreg kink 

⇁ female reader x seokjin

⇁ smut, idol!au

⇁ unprotected sex, kink discovery, dirty talk ↳  (supposed to be a drabble); 3.8k

. . .

seokjin knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t stop himself from coming back to you. 

(a/n) ik this is idol!au but seokjin is a bit ooc !! i don’t think he’s really like this irl ok,, also tagging addie bc she said she’s a thirsty hoe n wants to read @chinnychimchim (ilu) inspired by pic above (ldflfjkj) + title taken from ariana grande’s song into you which was the original title for this fic (ha) love u all & happy holidays. 

Seokjin liked to think he had excellent control over his own emotions. 

How could he not when this particular skill was one of his many job requirements? He had learned long ago to conceal his frustration with forced smiles and loud laughs, to veil any traces of fatigue behind an immaculate appearance. It was the only way to maintain his manufactured idol image.

But Seokjin was only human. There were times when his carefully crafted mask shattered around the edges, his real feelings bleeding through the tiny cracks. Between Bangtan’s packed schedules and the stress from the impending comeback, his patience often hung by a thread. The younger members in particular liked to push their luck and test his tolerance, their jokes teetering between friendly banter and blatant disrespect. Only years of practice had helped him curb his instinctive desire to put them back in their place. 

Thankfully the constant presence of cameras kept him in check. Only the occasional tick in his jaw betrayed his vexation. On the days when he felt particularly vindictive, he slapped a friendly hand over Jungkook’s shoulder with more force than necessary. Just as a reminder. 

But those slips in composure rarely happened, all things considered. Seokjin was good at bottling up his feelings, a charming smile always ready to deflect any intrusive questions asked by reporters. The exaggerated winks and excessive air kisses were now an automatic response to the shouts of his name, and all the boasting no longer made his ears turn pink from embarrassment. Every day, he played his role as the narcissistic visual convincingly, the shameless bragging more for comedic effect than anything else (the extra five seconds of screen time were a welcome bonus). 

Managing his image wasn’t an easy feat by any means. The list of things he wasn’t allowed to do or say was twice as long as the one detailing what he was given permission to do. Even when the cameras stopped rolling, he had to be mindful of his every expression and action. 

Naturally, there were times when he wanted to say ‘fuck this’ and throw caution to the wind. He was sure most of his friends shared the same sentiment. They all coped with it in different ways; Yoongi vented his anger through his lyrics, making a home for himself in his studio, and Hoseok smuggled late night snacks into his room when their manager wasn’t looking. 

Seokjin’s preferred method of rebellion was you. 

Or, more specifically, fucking you into the sheets in hotel rooms when your schedules permitted it. 

It was the ultimate transgression, but Seokjin would be lying if he said the adrenaline rush didn’t excite him.

He could handle extreme dieting even if his stomach grumbled in protest. He could turn a blind eye to the vicious comments left under his articles even if he had to subdue his initial burst of anger. There were, however, rules he didn’t like to play by and assumptions he didn’t care to humor. 

Some would argue that it was more effort than it was worth. Every secret rendezvous necessitated weeks of planning, lots of spare money, and, more often than not, involved the signing of two or three non-disclosure agreements. Even to him, the lengths he went for a fuck seemed like too much trouble, especially when the risks were so high. 

But then he remembered how good your tight heat squeezed around him, your manicured nails digging into his shoulders as you wrapped your legs around his waist with unbridled enthusiasm. Whenever he was buried balls deep inside of you, your name caught in the back of his throat, he reminded himself that you were absolutely worth it. 

There was nothing more satisfying than seeing you fucked out underneath him, your lips bitten-red and parted to ask for more. You always looked so far gone, tears prickling the corner of your eyes when you shuddered in ecstasy, and it did wonders for his ego. 

It was the image of you falling apart on his cock—eyes unfocused, voice hoarse, skin dewy with perspiration—that stayed ingrained in his mind long after the sun had risen up. The memory was barely enough to keep his desires at bay during the weeks that separated the nights spent with you, but Seokjin was forced to make do with the hazy and fading recollections of your trysts. He had nothing else to hang on to. There were no phone calls, no Facetime dates, no ‘good morning’ messages or secret couple clothing exchanged. What the both of you shared wasn’t a relationship, not in the traditional sense of the term, and it sure as hell wasn’t a friendship, either. 

As much as he wanted to spend more time with you, these days he hardly had time to squeeze in a 3 hour nap, let alone find the time to jerk one off in the privacy of his shared bathroom. Concert prep always left him drained, his body too exhausted and sore to even think about working himself to completion. Thoughts of you became less and less frequent as his attention was monopolized by work. All of his days blended into one monotonous routine of repetitive and predictable press questions and the same, fixed set list. 

February kicked in with their new song lining up the charts. He had never been more thankful for the opportunity to perform new songs, new choreos—anything that would break the pattern his body had unwillingly gotten used to. 

The only thing he hated about promotion cycles were the inevitable music show performances. Waking up at the crack of dawn for pre-recordings and then having to kill time for the rest of the day was a pain in the ass he would pay to avoid if he could. 

Seokjin was notorious for complaining about the long waiting hours—his crabby behavior a thing of legend among the staff. It was childish, but he was too petty to change his ways. Bad habits die hard, as they said.

Today, however, he was uncharacteristically quiet, his compliance earning raised eyebrows from staff and members alike. If Yoongi was surprised by his lack of grumbling this time around, he probably hadn’t realized that your comeback had coincidentally overlapped with his.

Eyes trained on the screen in front of him, his thoughts wandered back to all of your stolen moments together. He couldn’t help but notice how your smile looked less strained than it used to be, your eyes twinkling under the harsh stage lights. Seokjin wondered if you had moved on and found someone else to satisfy your needs during the months he hadn’t seen your face. Something ugly twisted in his chest; he hated that he was so replaceable. 

As soon as he finished performing one of their newest songs, his expression darkened again, having caught sight of you as you lined up with your group members. Belatedly, he remembered the presence of the cameras and the watching eyes all around him and hurriedly schooled his features. 

Standing on Music Bank’s ending stage; he waved at the audience blindly, guided by the screams of his name, and aimed his trademark winks at the over-enthusiastic crowd who were more than happy to pretend they were directed at them. He indulged them for a little longer, before deeming his quota of fan-service for the day fulfilled, his attention inevitably strayed back to you. 

Thinking back, he wasn’t sure what he was expecting from you. Even when you two had been seeing each other regularly, neither of you were the type to showcase your closeness outside of closed doors. 

Seokjin wasn’t awaiting a long heart-to-heart conversation or a warm catching up session, but surely you could have reciprocated his smile? When you greeted him with a formal bow, Seokjin fought hard to keep the frown off his face. Why did it feel like a subtle dismissal? Were you mad at him for not staying in contact? He didn’t want to admit how much all of this bothered him. Why was he getting so worked up? After all, you weren’t his girlfriend; you didn’t owe him anything. Was he…overreacting? 

A headache was on its way, he could feel it. When it was time to line up and greet the KBS PD, the promoting groups huddled on either side of the corridor while waiting for him to come out of his waiting room. Leaning his weight back against the wall, his eyes kept flickering back to you. It was easy to spot you out of the crowd; your tinkling laugh recognizable, his ear trained. 

The corner of your eyes crinkled, your expensive, shiny earrings dangling whenever you tipped your head back to laugh at one of your member’s joke. Seokjin’s chest constricted, an invisible weight pressing down until it was hard to breathe. He hadn’t realized he had made his staring obvious until another girl elbowed you, jutting her chin in his direction.

Like a deer in headlights, he stood there like an idiot as you finally acknowledged him with a surprised look painting your face. You offered him a polite smile, confusion evident by the way your brow creased. Now that you were in front of him again, so near, he felt the familiar, distracting tug of arousal. There was something else, too, twinging at his heart, but he focused on the heat stirring in the pit of his belly instead. 

He toyed with the phone in his pocket, his eyes never leaving yours, before finally deciding to just go for it, not wanting to wuss out again and regret it. 

[Seokjin] : Hey. Can we talk? 

.

.

He should have predicted that falling into bed with you would be stupidly easy, like a habit he would never grow out of.

“Fuck, I forgot the condoms.” He had never wanted to slam his head against a wall in sheer frustration until now. Sitting back on his haunches, he cast a dejected look over the expanse of your exposed body, his mouth downturned in a pout. 

Should he text his manager hyung to get him some? He was desperate enough to put aside his pride and ask. 

“It’s okay,” you reassured him, grabbing his hand between your dainty fingers before he could reach for his phone. “I’m clean, are you?”

“Y-yeah.” He licked his plump lips, his answer a breathless stutter. Did you—? “Wait, are you sure?”

He had never not used a condom. With you, or anyone else for that matter. Management had advocated the practice of safe sex enough times that he always kept a condom in his wallet just in case. He had been warned about the dangers of unprotected sex so many times that the mere idea of fucking you bare made his chest constrict with worry. What if…?

“Please, I want you so bad,” you whined, tugging his hand impatiently and effectively putting a stop to his inner monologue. 

Seokjin swallowed thickly as you guided him to the apex of your thighs because, fuck. How were you so wet already? He ran a tentative index finger along your slick folds, feeling the extent of your arousal. A sharp intake of breath alerted him of your sensitivity and he couldn’t stop himself from applying a little more pressure just to hear the sound again. 

You usually needed longer to get ready for him, but you were so wet and slippery that Seokjin surmised he could probably push himself into you with relative ease. His head spun as the tempting visual clouded his vision in a haze of lust. 

“Stop making me wait.”

The audible whine in your voice made the surface of his skin tingle with renewed desire, and he was left momentarily speechless. His shaft stiffened against his thigh, not indifferent to the irresistible sight in front of him. There was no way of hiding how much your actions affected him, and you were quick to take advantage of that.

“Want you to fuck me raw,” you continued, eyes lidded, gyrating your hips in circular motions against his still hand. Already foreseeing he would give in to your request, you didn’t bother to conceal the small yet victorious smirk on your face. “It’s all I could think about when we weren’t together, I missed you so much. My fingers can never compare to your dick.”

Your filthy words made his cock jump, the red tip already leaking with drops of pre-cum. What the fuck. Had he really heard you say…? He couldn’t recall you being this needy or demanding before, but the gleam in your eyes confirmed you had indeed crooned out such brazen and forward words. 

“You can’t just say that, shit,” he squeezed the base of his erection, trying to subtly ease off the edge. The only thought running through his mind right now was how much he needed to fuck you. Maybe it was because his orgasm was long overdue…but it wouldn’t take much longer to bust a nut if you kept talking like that. “Okay, okay, hold on a sec.”

He slipped a finger inside of you, a loud squelching sound telling him your body was lubricated enough already. His bottom lip stayed nestled between his teeth as he focused on getting you ready for his cock. Not that you seemed to need it. You felt so wet, your body eagerly accommodating his intruding digits as if it was welcoming him back. 

“I’m gonna go in now, yeah?” 

“Hurry.” He ignored your whiny mewl in favor of slowly sinking into you. Groans of satisfaction mingled as he inched himself into you. Shaking his bangs out of his eyes so that he wouldn’t miss any shift of expression on your face, he greedily took in the sight of your face scrunched up in pleasure. He gave a tentative thrust of his hips to test the waters, and was rewarded with a delicious moan. Pupils blown dark with pleasure, you pulled him down closer so that your lips could melt against his.

It was frighteningly easy how quickly his body warmed up to yours, how his hands seemed to remember all of your sensitive spots, how his hips settled into the rhythm you liked best. Some things just couldn’t be forgotten, it seemed. Swimming, dancing, cooking his mom’s favorite recipe—you somehow fell in the same category. Months had passed between now and you last liaison, but his body reacted so naturally, as if it relied on muscle memory.

His thrusting became less coordinated, the set pace forgotten. Maybe if he was less taken by lust, he would be embarrassed for not lasting very long. In his defense, it had been a very long time since he last had sex, and no normal human being could resist your hot pussy, anyway. 

“I’m close,” he grunted, the urgency he felt hard to disguise. To this, you crossed your legs around his middle a little tighter, silently inviting him to sink in deeper. He slid a hand up one of your smooth thighs, his fingers sinking into the skin in warning, “Fuck, I have to pull out, sweetheart.” 

“Cum in me. C-can you do that? I want you to fuck me full of cum. Please?” You said the last word so sweetly it made your demand all the more alluring. 

“We shouldn’t, what if—”

“Why not? O-oh.” Your eyes widened in realization. It seemed like you had been knee-deep in lust and had forgotten all about the risks of unprotected sex. “Ah, mmh, but I think you be a good daddy.”

What a filthy mouth you had. Seokjin wondered what kind of porn you had watched to learn all of this…

His hips stuttered, the hand around your thigh gripping the skin so hard he was sure his fingerprints would stay permanently inked on your skin. The clamping of your walls around him, vice-tight, made him realize that this wasn’t just said in jest. You really… You were really into this. The realization made his eyes darken with determination, your pleasure the only object of his attention. 

“F-fuck. Is this what happens when I don’t give you my cum? You’re so horny you’re willing to let me knock you up?” He growled into the shell of your ear, his heart hammering in his chest so loudly he thought it would burst. This was undoubtedly uncharted territory, but he wanted—no, needed—to make you lose it on his cock one last time before he reached his end. “You’ve been such a good cockslut for me, maybe I will reward you.”

“Seokjin!” 

He groaned in turn, your tight pussy trying to milk him as the aftershocks of your climax made you tremble like a leaf in his arms. He distantly registered the tell-tale signs of his own impending release by the way his balls tightened and his stomach tensed. Hips rocking into yours with abandon, he entertained the thought of giving you what you begged for. Having never experienced it before, he could only imagine how it would feel like to spurt his seed into your warm heat and then make you keep it inside you. The mere thought sent shivers down his back all the way down to his toes. Your pussy felt so snug, your walls clenching and squeezing enticingly around his hard shaft, that he just about lost it right there. 

“Fuck fuck fuck.” His nostrils flared when the familiar white hot pleasure crashed over him, momentarily blinding him. 

Seokjin thankfully had the presence of mind to pull out, ropes of white spilling onto your stomach and staining the wrinkled sheets below. He panted heavily, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath and stabilize his pounding heart.

A huff of laughter escaped his parted lips when he noticed you run your digits across your toned tummy, “Don’t look so disappointed. You know we can’t.” 

You sat up, back now resting against the wooden headboard, a small pout sitting on your lips. “Did you really think I would let you stick it up me without protection?”

“So, you mean…we were safe?”

With a roll of your eyes, you nodded your confirmation, “I get the contraception shot every couple of months… It’s in my contract, anyway. No one wants to deal with a pregnant idol. We have to be a lot more careful about these things… If we have to count on the guy to pull out at the right time, then we should say goodbye to our careers.”

An initial wave of relief put him at ease, his shoulders drooping as an imaginary weight was lifted off of him. Still… There was a niggling feeling in the back of his mind that he couldn’t quite brush aside. He shook his head, instead focusing on cleaning you up and getting ready to head back to the dorm. 

Seokjin watched you tie your tousled hair up with an elastic, his eyes tracing the graceful slope of your nape. Something akin to possessiveness warmed his chest as his sight fell upon the red marks he had suckled down your neck and across your collarbones. 

A thought suddenly occurred to him.

“Did you really miss me?” he asked before he could stop himself. 

In the still of the night, his voice rang out loud and clear. Startled, your fingers hovered in mid-air, three blouse buttons still undone. Even to his own ears, the question reeked with the need for validation and affection. He hated that his feelings were so transparent, so obvious, especially when he didn’t know where he stood with you. 

You turned to face him, cheeks flushed a dusty pink and makeup slightly blotchy. “As much as you missed me.”

He was at a loss for words once more, his mind drawing a blank. What did that even mean? This wasn’t a KBS drama; he could make do without the vague, mysterious answers. Seriously, why were women so difficult to understand? The litany of questions he kept to himself kept him occupied as you both got dressed silently. 

What a waste of a hotel suite, he mused, shutting the door behind him after having watched you leave fifteen minutes prior. There was never time to admire the luxurious backdrop, not when every second spent together could be detrimental to your careers. He had watched enough movies and daytime dramas to know that relationships weren’t supposed to be this way. But since it was you, he was willing to take what he could get.

.

Seokjin found it hard to function the next day. And the day after that. It was becoming increasingly difficult to carry out his job properly when his every thought was plagued by you. His thumb hovered over your name in his contact list the more he let himself be consumed by old memories. He kept spacing out during interviews, and it was only when Namjoon discreetly pinched his side that he was brought back to reality. 

Fans started to notice his strange behavior. They were worried that he was sick and overworked by his company, but the reality was far from that. What would they think if they knew he was actually thinking about filling you up with cum? The thought crossed his mind at the most inconvenient times, more than he was willing to admit. He didn’t blame his fans for thinking he was ill; Seokjin himself felt feverish, his skin hot and clammy. 

For the first time, he felt all semblance of control slip through his fingers. It was as if he had been yanked backwards in time, forced to experience puberty all over again against his will. His body had become a slave to his desires and he was helpless to stop the onslaught of salacious thoughts from eating away at his sanity. 

Even though he knew it wouldn’t help him in any way, he replayed the night in his head whenever he had a spare moment to himself, his tight pants revealing how worked up he got over the memory of you climaxing to the thought of him getting you pregnant.  

At the time, he had thought it to be your kink, but the more he let himself fantasize, the more it dawned on him that the idea equally thrilled him even if it clashed with his moral code. Getting a girl knocked up had always been the one line he had never been willing to cross. Even now, his mind reeled at the thought of him jeopardizing his group’s career because of his carelessness. But knowing that you were actually using contraception gave him the safety net he needed and, for once, he let himself entertain this particular fantasy. 

He didn’t know what to think of this new development or what to do with this revelation. All he knew was that he wanted to try it again, just to see if it was a fluke, a onetime thing. 

.

[actualbird]

Ok but just gonna say this: YOU ARE THE BEST TUMBLR USER I'VE EVER STUMBLED UPON AND I LOVE U OK BAI

(��´ﾉω`〃) aaahhhhhhh!!!!!! thank you so much!!!! ilu 2 💖💖💖