#the cat-eared ghost guide

[pngsk]

do you have the Halloween Mafuyu cards cutouts 😞😞😞😞

the cat-eared ghost guide - mafuyu asahina - ★4

like/rb if using. no reposts. f2u dont claim as your own

dont have untrained sadly :(

[animeweeb115]

“It's time to test your guts, while having fun too!”

[dmitriene]

hello. first of all thank you for sharing your works with us, they are a great help for my mental health. 🩶

would you please write ghost with inexperienced reader first time if thats ok with you?🩶

oh anon, thank you for your love and kind words, i'm so warmed to know that my work are something that is able to help you, and i hope anything you struggle with would dissappear! you won't believe, but this writing was already sitting in my drafts, so i hope you'll like it ‹𝟹

cw: dry humping, my view of inexperienced behaviour, virginity.

simon riley treats you delicately and unhurriedly when he finds out you're inexperienced, the relationship between you never went beyond kissing, and if he didn't pay attention to your uncertain, messy movements, when his rough, calloused hand cupped your plump ass and you recoiled, fidgeting and letting out an almost pained, muffled squeak, then he understood what was going on.

it's not that simon was used to girls for whom he was the first, and all his previous relationships were hard to call with this word, rather they were convenient meetings for some good sex, but even so, your embarrassment, your fragile, chirping words about “being sorry, but you don't want to rush”, didn't push him away and didn't make him angry, on the contrary, he nodded knowingly, tracing your hip with his thumb, voice a reassuring rasp.

slowly, he let you get used to his touch, to the intimacy, to the light strokes, to the gentle kisses shifting from the crown of your head, to the temple, lips and cheeks, rubbing his nose and stubble across your skin, prickliness of which made your stomach quiver and flex, especially when the brushes of his lips descend on your sensitive neck, along every tiny mark and existing mole, hands raking along your waist, down to where the tantalizing curve tapered in your hips.

build up the anticipation, the need, the one that, with the right attitude and patience, began to bloat inside of you, itch for more, every new touch of his hands, lips, and just his close contact, made your thighs rub against each other, soddening your panties, eyes wide and desperate with each new look at simon's firm, full lines of body, and he knew perfectly well what it would lead to, he was waiting for it.

waiting for you to ask him, crawling into his lap, settling down like a affectionate cat, suffering from an inexplicable heat inside that made you rub against him hesitantly but persistently, purring, whining in his ear about your restricted desires, clinging to his shoulders and coiled biceps, the tense muscles of his thigh exerting the right pressure on your pulsing clit, and it was enough to make your head empty in an instant.

simon won't be the one to turn you down when you've come into his hands willingly, whether he's tired, not in the mood, perhaps hesitant, he'd guide you, wrapping his arms around your hips, circling the inside of your skin while tugging down your panties, but letting you get your first orgasm from a simple, innocent dry humping.

before you'll end up beneath his heavy body, fidgeting and keening at his thick, dripping tip breaches your sweet, soppy cunt, coaxing out a gush of slick, and an endless spill of his name mewled out from your slack, swollen lips.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[yandere-wishes]

✮⋆˙Red Hood and The Big Bad Wolf ˙⋆✮

⭒⌒★ Yandere! Jason Todd x Reader ★⌒⭒

゜。♡ 𝓕𝓪𝓲𝓻𝔂 𝓣𝓪𝓵𝓮 𝓐𝓤 ♡ ｡ ゜

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･

*ੈ✩‧₊ Thinking about how similar Red Hood is to Little Red Riding Hood, not just in name but also in practice. At their core, they are both things, red things, that survive. Reborn from the lugubre maws of death, forced to live another day, carrying baskets weaved of anguish and instability.

*ੈ✩‧₊ Jason keeps the old picture book tucked in his jacket pocket. He can't quite remember where he found the fickle thing. Can't remember why he chose such an evanescent tale to cling to.

*ੈ✩‧₊ Or maybe he does, maybe he knows exactly why he runs his fingers over his inside pocket after every fight, just to make sure the eccentric fable is still in place. Maybe it's because he understands Red Riding Hood. Knows what she's been through, what it feels like to have your innocence stripped like skin being torn from bones. To be killed and revived all in the same breath. Maybe it's because he wants to know what happens next. What happens when Little Red learns to breathe again? He wants to ask her, beg her to tell him. To be the solution to all his problems.

*ੈ✩‧₊ "How do you swallow the trauma? What do you do with the phantom pain of your heart's reanimation? How do you make the darkness go away? Did you come back the same?

*ੈ✩‧₊ There is only one thing that makes them differ. One fundamental little thing...

*ੈ✩‧₊ Jason doesn't mind the wolf. Pretty pup prowling about. He blames it on his upbringing. He'd been taught to fall in love with such wicked things. From as early as he can remember he's watched bats chase cats across gargoyle-littered rooftops. Watched pretty girls throw themselves at bleached killers. That's why he's quick to be enarmed with the new villain terrorizing the Gotham streets. The girl in a wolf mask, planting bombs in jewelry stores and biting off her victim's ears.

*ੈ✩‧₊ There is nothing scary about the big bad wolf, Red Hood thinks, as he re-reads the page where the wolf and girl meet. Why fear pain when you've been to the end of the road? Why fear something when you're acquainted with its ending?

*ੈ✩‧₊ "Shouldn't wolves only come out when there's a full moon?" He swings in from the skyline, ironclad military boots lodging into your stomach pushing you back into a glass display case. "That's werewolves you idiot" you mumble out of breath, glass shards pocking at your spine. The ticking of your newest explosive rings melodically through the air. He's quick to cut the wires, to defuse your toy without a second thought. Professional you think bitterly as you pounce on his back looking for an opening of flesh to sink your teeth into.

*ੈ✩‧₊ The thing they don't tell you about dying is that you always come back wrong. Primordially, spiritually, the person who closes their eyes, is never the same one who opens them again.

But Red Riding Hood was lucky, her story ended before she realized that dreadful thing. Jason has to deal with it every day, the reverberating scars, the colorless world that fractures and breaks should he let his mind wander astray. The fact that his heart only ever truly beats when he sees the fluffy ears of your cowl and that damn bloodthirsty smirk.

*ੈ✩‧₊ Yandere!Jason Todd who's only brave enough to call it love after you stake a knife through his heart. The bulletproof vest and armor keep the damage away, but he can see the murderous intent shimmering in your eyes. It's only then that he pulls you down by the back of your neck. Lips to lips, a messy clash of anathema and apprehension. Your teeth gnaw at his lips while his tongue composes ballads on the roof of your mouth.

*ੈ✩‧₊ He wonders if Little Red ever went back for the wolf. If she ever dares kiss him with all the pain and anguish she has left in her body. Nicking her tongue on his razor-sharp teeth. Guiding his claws to ghost over her frail body. He wonders if the wolf can even hurt her. There's so little left that can hurt you when you've already felt the end.

*ੈ✩‧₊ He knows you stalk him, follow him even during the day. Sometimes he pulls you into the back alleyway. Knife at your throat as he soaks up your ethereal face. Mask on, mask off. In the end, you'd have found out anyway. His hands squeeze at your hips, needing the flesh, leaving his essence over your body. His lips danced over the back of your neck, biting tenderly at the apex of your shoulder.

*ੈ✩‧₊ You seem to like it when his knife cuts deep. When his punches crack bone. When his boots crush you into the pavement. You throw your head back and laugh, witty little threats spilling from your mouth. So this is love he thinks as your claws rake over his biceps ripping the muscle like ribbons, rummaging through the blood and tissue in search of bone. "Poor little puppy" he mocks "looking for a bone to chew on". "Shut up you tomato-looking freak" you scream as his teeth sink into your jaw, crunching of bone.

*ੈ✩‧₊ He thinks you look gorgeous when you're irritated, he thinks you're beautiful when your bloodthirst seeps through the anger. He bites back a moan as your knee nests into his gut.

*ੈ✩‧₊ Did Little Red ever talk to her mother again? Or did she hold a grudge, haunted by her betrayal of sending her into the woods unarmed, heartbroken that she never came looking for her? Jason's thoughts pound inside his head, picture-book illustrations flash before him of Little Red pushing her mother away, of tears streaming down her face, screaming, screaming, screaming. He hisses as his lacerations burn. Hand suspended, pushing down the urge to knock on his father's door. Bruce would know what to do...he always knows what to do. It's such a childish notion, he clings to. Even now, even after he was killed and left un-avenged Jason still wholeheartedly believes in the notion that Daddy will fix everything...He's halfway to the entrance gate when Bruce alls after him, cadence thick with grief and ache. Jason doesn't turn back, he runs and runs and runs.

*ੈ✩‧₊ Yandere!Jason who crashes through your apartment window. Pushes you back onto the bed and lies next to you as you squirm and scream. He wraps his arms protectively around your waist and nuzzles into the crux of your neck. Mumbling Little Red Riding Hood's tale until you fall asleep. "How did You know I love the story?" you ask, the next morning to the empty half of your bed. Last night's tremulous dread still laying heavy on your corpse.

*ੈ✩‧₊ Yandere!Jason who lays on his window seal, watching as the sun pokes through Granny Red's face. It's funny isn't it, in such a twisted way didn't he also die in his grandfather's house? Only to be reborn while he watched? Didn't the same thing happen to Little Red?

*ੈ✩‧₊ That night Jason dream he's was walking through the grass, headed for the forest behind Wayne manner. He's trapped inside his jejune body, the body of a boy wonder. Clutching a basket with a crowbar inside as dread dances in his stomach. His old red cape taut around his neck, suffocating, skin-tight. He's forgotten how to breathe, puerile fear of those ghoulish old trees clawing at his body. Through the dimness, through lose rays that escape the moon's greed he's able to spot you. Weaving through the bushes and trees, stalking closer and closer. He doesn't know whether to meet you halfway or retreat. Frozen like a robin being pounced on by a sickly smiling cat. His eyes meet yours, right before you attack.

*ੈ✩‧₊ Yandere!Jason who misses you, when he doesn't catch you on patrol, of course, he misses you, it's hard not to miss a broken bone. Hard to feel the sting of your wounds and forget who put them there.

*ੈ✩‧₊ Yandere!Jason finally realizes that he just can't bear to be away from you. This love, this mania, it's all for you. He needs you. He's got you corned, the end of a chase. You smile, all teeth and games, "You're pretty when sulk" you whisper, tracing claws up his chest, digging into the space between each ridge. "Oh really? How can you tell when I got this helmet on?" You laugh, coy and flirtish "I just do" you shrug. Pulling his helmet up, lips ghosting over his in a mockery of a kiss. Jason pushes forward, entraping your lips against his. Lost in intimacy he's quick to grab you, to drag you back to his apartment, to lock the doors and throw away the key. To keep the big bad wolf where she belongs, right next to Little Red Riding Hood.

   

🎀I feel like every Batson deserves a villainess to fall in love with. Let's call this one WolfWoman. TBH I feel like I want to write more for her in the future.

[majestyeverlasting]

𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 | 𝐞.𝐦.

PAIRING Vampire Eddie Muson x Female Reader

SUMMARY One eerie night on your way home from work, you nearly run over someone who’s already supposed to be a dead man. As the truth slowly comes to light, an unlikely friendship forms—and begins to grow into something more. [fluff, mild angst, mentions of blood, 7.3k]

A/N There's no shame is coming back a little wrong. Here's to Halloween 2024!

𝙵𝙰𝙻𝙻 𝟷𝟿𝟾𝟿

The relentless staccato of the drums reverberating off the walls pulses in time with the headache cruelly settled in the front of your head. It’s no fault of Jim, the young kid beating away for a committed crowd of ten. Rather, it’s the culmination of an entire evening's worth of noise. Of fulfilling countless drink requests for half the thanks.

The Hideout seems to move in a delay as you finish wiping down your portion of the sticky bar. A little further down, your co-worker Alex pours whiskey for an older man with a wild head of silver hair. 

When you’re done, you head to the breakroom, weaving through sweaty bodies on the way. Shift officially over, you gather your belongings with quick hands, moving on autopilot as you so often do nowadays. 

Reprieve only comes after you’ve pushed through the back door and stepped into the night. The air welcomes you with a cool stillness. A stillness that didn’t exist up until a year ago when the ground shook and the heavens turned red for a short period of time. Those who could afford to flee left Hawkins and never looked back. People like you stayed behind. 

There’s been something different about the nighttime since that fateful day. Not only did the darkness deepen, but the nights themselves seemed to stretch longer. As if nothingness itself sought to swallow the town every time the sun made its descent. That reality doesn’t scare you anymore. 

On nights like tonight, there’s an eerie beauty to it all. 

The radio in your car bursts into pop when you start the ignition, but you kill it quickly. Tomorrow, you’d wake up, go to work, and do it all again. 

Under the glow of the remaining streetlights, you cruise your way through a near ghost town. One hand guides the wheel while the other remains propped against your head. There are more boarded windows and abandoned lots than there are signs of life, all memorializing a time that once was but is no more. 

As you turn onto Main Street, a dark flutter of movement catches your attention further ahead. You can’t quite make out what’s on the ground yet, but you slow down as a precaution.

It ends up being a black cat that scurries across the road, disappearing into an alleyway. What you’re not expecting is the figure that carelessly darts in front of you to chase after it. Slamming down on the breaks sends you lurching forward with a gasp. You don’t realize your eyes are squeezed shut until you peel them open, heart pounding in your ears. 

The figure, a man, as you can now make out, is on the ground on the other side of the street. He must’ve tripped over the curb in his haste. Propping himself up on his forearms, he glances in the direction the cat ran in as if debating to continue after it. 

Instead, in an air of defeat, he plops onto his back and stares up at the void-like sky. Alarm bells go off in your head at the possibility of this being some sort of trap, but you crank down your window because too much concern has settled within your ribcage. 

“Are you alright?” you call out to him. “I’m so sorry.” 

He just lies there, shifting ever so slightly.

Conflicted, you chew on your lower lip before finally deciding to get out of the car. The sound of your door snapping shut proceeds your hesitant footsteps as you pad over to him. 

The faint smell of vanilla and stale beer had registered with him the moment you opened your door, but it intensifies as you near, right along with a deeper, more vascular scent. The latter of which intrigues a primal part of him he often fought to suppress. Helplessly, instinctively, he licks over his teeth as the gums above his canines begin to tingle. 

You stop a few feet away as he sits up fully, hair long and disheveled. There’s an intensity to his gaze that isn’t threatening or unkind, just strikingly observant. Like an owl seeing through what you want him to see, straight to the marrow of who you are. 

In daring to look back into his eyes, you notice how they’re as black as the night sky. His face is pale, cheeks are slightly gaunt. 

He can see the moment you discard any notion of him being a threat, realizing how weak and pathetic he must look sitting on the ground. Embarrassment itches down his arms as he averts his gaze to the asphalt of the street. He can’t even pay himself the dignity of standing. 

“I didn’t see you coming.” Your voice is too sweet. “Do you need help? There’s a phone booth over there, I could call someone for you.” 

“I’m alright,” he murmurs. 

“Are you sure?” You study him for any signs of pain. “You’re not hurt, are you?” 

“Never better.” It took a lot more than a good wipeout to hurt him nowadays. 

He looks back up at you in hopes it will make you believe him. That’s when a sense of recognition kindles deep down within you. You repress it because it can’t possibly be him. 

“Didn’t mean to scare you.” The cadence of his voice, though weighed with tiredness, is unmistakably familiar in this moment. 

“Well, alright,” you finally say. 

Walking back to your car and leaving him alone almost feels like a crime. 

•••  

There’s a distanced look in your eyes as you stare up at Robin’s ceiling fan. It’s as still as you are, but the sunken cheeks of the pale stranger spiral around and around in your head. It’s past midnight and dim lamplight paints the room in a soft, yellowed glow. There are posters all over the walls, which are still painted lilac from her childhood. Everything from the album covers of Madonna and Blondie to movies like Psycho and Star Wars. 

The paper of her senior yearbook crinkles gently as she flips through the pages beside you. She stops when she finally gets to the senior portraits, pointing to Edward Munson as you flip onto your stomach to join her in looking. He has long hair, doe eyes, and a boyish grin. You stare at his face for a few quiet seconds, noting how much more alive he looked. Robin’s mouth opens a couple times but no words come out. 

“I swear it was him, Rob.” Your voice cracks a little with the weight of your sincerity. “And he looked like he needed help. Like he may be going through something right now. Something bad. Drugs.” 

Robin abruptly flips the yearbook closed. “He’s gone,” she says with the resolve of someone who’s had enough time to stitch old wounds closed. You can understand that.  

Considering the selfish discrimination that plagued Hawkins back at that time, you’re not even sure if the police department looked all that intensely. Maybe no more than a few echoing calls out into the woods for a couple days straight. They had better things to do than search for a troubled teen from Forest Hills Trailer park. The thought alone is enough to stir a sense of disgust within you, so you can only imagine how Robin feels being he was her friend. 

Eddie got held back and was set to graduate alongside you in eighty-seven but you never crossed paths, only shot the occasional curious glance his way because there always had been something magnetic about him. It wasn’t until Hawkins was rattled with the mysterious shaking that you befriended Robin, Steve, and some of their younger friends. 

They were among the residents who didn’t skip town even though they had the means to.  

Robin’s cheeks have taken on a light flush, so you give her shoulder a squeeze. “I’m sorry to bring this up on a random Saturday night, but it’s all that’s been on my mind,” you admit. “To think that he could be out there on his own, scared to come forward…” you trail off, unsure of where you’re headed. 

Her blue eyes look intently into yours. “You don’t go missing for that long and magically turn up alive… You just don’t.” There’s a practiced steadiness to her voice. 

With Eddie being someone you’d only ever seen in passing, you find yourself wondering why you wish her words were the furthest thing from the truth. 

•••

It’s quiet except for the whir of your bicycle wheels as you pedal back to your house the following morning. It feels like you’re gliding on the wind, bound to float up and away with a mere extension of your arms. The made-up tune you’re humming fades away when a slender black cat stops in the middle of the street about a hundred feet ahead, staring straight at you. It doesn’t startle as you near. 

The feline takes a few curious steps towards you as you dismount your bike, squatting down to make yourself look smaller and less imposing. That’s when you notice the collar around its neck that nearly blends in with its coat aside from the golden nameplate pendant. Luna.

“Hi, Luna,” you coo, holding out your hand. She nuzzles into it. “That’s such a pretty name. You’re a sweet girl, aren’t you?” She lets you scratch behind her ears as she blinks her big green eyes in languid satisfaction. Her fur is soft and clean, clearly from being taken care of.  

“Did you run away from home? Is that what happened?” You take a quick look around even though you’re in the portion of town where the homes are tucked further back into the trees. Nobody seems to be outside looking. 

When you stand, she gazes up at you before trotting away. Only then does it occur to you that she probably knows her way back home. But you can’t shake the possibility that she was the same cat from two nights ago who was running from the dead man. So many pets had been displaced since the Shaking, but that didn’t seem to be the case with her. A small smile pulls at your lips when she looks back at you with a soft mrrow. 

Picking up your bike, you walk closer to her. Upon noticing you’ve begun to follow, Luna starts walking again and you trail after her. 

She eventually diverts off the street and under an A-frame barricade with a sign that reads: Private Property, No Trespassing. Now standing on a dirt road leading into the woods. When you stop, still on the road, she turns back to look at you—mrrrrow.

“I can’t,” you say. 

The sound of an approaching engine startles you. A police car that slows to a stop, rolling the window down to reveal a scrawny officer with an unkempt mustache, smoking a cigarette. He gives you a quick once-over. 

“You a friend of the guy who lives back there?” For someone living in the midwest, he has a thick Southern drawl. And an unfamiliar face, now that you’re thinking about it. Likely a new hire. What was even stranger than those who decided to stay in Hawkins was the handful of people who, for some reason, sought out the town. 

Glancing back at the dirt road, you realize Luna hasn’t moved. The officer lifts his brows in curiosity when your eyes settle back on him. 

“I—yes. I am,” you say. Thankfully, he looks like he believes you. 

“How’s he doing? Chief’s planning a welfare visit within the hour,” he says it like he’s trying to collect pieces of information for a puzzle he’s working out.

“I was actually just going to see him,” you lie. “Is there reason for concern?” 

The officer snorts and shakes his head, taking a long drag from his cigarette. “You tell me. Nobody tells me a goddamn thing in this town,” he says. “I’ll get someone to crack soon enough. You take care of yourself, sweetheart.” With that, he pulls off. Mrrrow—

With a heavy sigh and buzzing nerves, you push your bike around the barricade and allow Luna to lead you down the road in a bouncy, graceful stride. 

•••

Three crisp knocks at the door startles Eddie awake on the couch. One arm is hanging off and brushing against the rug. He blinks a few drowsy times before mustering up the willpower to stand, trudging to go peak out the front window. It’s you and Luna. The way his heartbeat spikes makes him wish that no longer having a heart had been a part of the vampire deal. You’re wearing baggy jeans and a cute oversized cardigan. Your bike is propped along the railing of the porch stairs. 

Nobody was supposed to know about this place aside from a select group. A small part of him is happy to see your face again, but he knows this isn’t good. The fewer people who know about him, the better. Perhaps that was merely a lie he told himself when he managed to escape Upside Down, but it had stuck. And for some reason—whether it be patience, pity, or an odd blend of both—everyone respected his wishes. 

The house Eddie lived in now had been abandoned by a doomsday prepper. A surprisingly decent amount of supplies were left stored away in the basement. Chief Hopper had helped him move in a year ago after he returned from the Upside Down as a changed man. The chief had even found a reliable contact at the Hawkins Blood Bank for the sake of Eddie’s needs. 

As tempting as the urges sometimes were, feeding on live prey wasn’t sustainable. Drinking from blood bags was just as suitable. 

Even when it comes to his friends, they make sure to look out for him as best they can. Offering their company, their support, their laughter. All things considered, he had the stability he needed to get back out in the world and chase after a semblance of normalcy. But he hadn’t, not fully. 

The amount of times he left the house, especially during the day, was far and few between. When he did, it was to go to Steve’s place, or Robin’s, or Dustin’s. 

Now he’d fallen into funk like none other, insisting that nobody bothered him at all. For the first time since turning into a vampire, the desire to start living again was stronger than ever, yet it terrified him to his core. The last thing he wanted to do was for his cursed hands to end up tarnishing whatever good managed to come his way. He wouldn’t be able to bear it, so he figured he’d save himself the disappointment by not trying at all. 

It was killing him. 

When he opens the door, you’re wide-eyed. Luna immediately strolls inside to circle in between his legs, proudly rubbing herself against them. As bad as he wants to scoop her up into his arms in relief, he keeps looking at you. 

“Eddie Munson?” you ask hesitantly.  

He swallows. “Yeah.”  

“I knew that was you back on Friday.” 

Your eyes flick down to Luna, who gratefully peers up. “She was out in the street trying to get help for you,” you say without a doubt. “Animals always know.” There’s a brief flicker of emotion in Eddie’s eyes. 

“I’d been trying to catch her that night.” He sounds ashamed, like he knows you’re right, “She’s never run away before.” A brief moment of silence passes between the two of you. 

“There’s someone coming for a welfare check,” you tell him. “The Chief of Police, I think. An officer stopped and told me.” 

Eddie pales—if that’s even possible. A humorless laugh rises in his throat. “I’m sorry for getting you dragged into this mess—” 

“I wasn’t dragged into anything,” you counter softly, searching his eyes. “It’s called life. Things happen, you meet people, time keeps passing by. 

“Everything happens for a reason.” You offer a small, encouraging smile.

He feels a flutter in his gut that he hasn’t felt in a long time. You’re awfully pretty, and kind, and smell way too divine. 

It’s too far away for you to hear, but in the distance, there’s a rumbling engine and the sound of tires turning onto the dirt road. 

•••

Vampires were supposed to be bound to legends and myths. Not real, and certainly not in Hawkins in the form of a boy whose company you could easily learn to enjoy. Both Eddie and Chief Hopper stare at you, eagerly awaiting your response to the story they just told. It’d practically been an entire oral history of Hawkins’ woes, not solely about Eddie, but about Eleven, demogorgons, the Mind Flayer, and Venca—all underscored by a depraved dimension called the Upside Down. 

All three of you are seated in the charming living room, the sun beginning to set outside. 

“Look,” Hopper says, running a thick hand down his face. “I know this is a lot. I wouldn’t blame you if you ran off and told the whole town.” As he shifts, the buttons over his stomach strain. “But before you do, just take a second and—” 

“I won’t tell,” you promise. “I always knew this town was different. I could feel it,” you admit. “For the first time in my life, I don’t feel crazy anymore.” 

That resonates with Eddie. It was a strange, unforgiving town indeed. 

“But I think you guys already knew that,” you say. “That’s why you even bothered to trust me.” 

Hopper glances at Eddie as if to say I like this one, she’s solid. Eddie likes you too.

The boy straightens up. “And about Robin, Steve, and everybody else… I know they lied to you, but it’s only because I asked them to keep me a secret,” he says. “If you’re upset about that, you have the right to take it out on me.” 

“Not while I’m here,” Hopper quips, pushing himself up from the couch. “If she does a number on you, I refuse to be a witness.” He’s joking, and you’re grateful for the levity that works its way back into the room. 

Eddie purses his lips in amusement, peeking over at you. You smile back.  

“And for the love of God, can you get something in your system? You look like you’re withering away,” Hopper grouses. “I’m gonna swing back around tomorrow, and all those blood bags better be gone.” 

You’re unable to stop yourself from snorting at what your life has suddenly become. If the sparkle in his eyes is any indicator, Eddie didn’t seem to mind your amusement. Not even a little bit, not even at all. 

•••

Gravel crackles beneath a set of tires as a vehicle rolls up out back. You’re too far away to hear, but as Eddie hops out of his van, he can make out chatter and drums emitting from inside. The external lights of The Hideout are blown out, so it’s pitch dark as Eddie rounds to the passenger side to get his acoustic guitar and sling it over his shoulder.

Soon, his hand is meeting the cool handle of the back door, which doesn't budge when he tugs. Two years ago, it would’ve. He was still learning how much time had altered in its wake. So He begins knocking instead. 

Entering through the front would be simple enough, but he wasn’t quite ready for everyone’s eyes to fall on him at once. 

Inside, Samuel, a man with a pirate hook in place of his missing hand, uses the metal prosthetic to push his empty glass closer to you for a refill. Eddie’s unheard knocking persists as you whistle for Alex to fulfill the man’s request in your place. 

“Gotta run to the bathroom,” you say. 

When you make it to the back hallway, the knocking finally registers. Two girls with matching mullets come stumbling out the bathroom hand-in-hand, forcing you to press closer to the wall as you head to answer the door. A voice emerges from the other side as you do. 

“Hello? I’m here to—”

It’s Eddie, blending in with the darkness of the night except for his guitar and milky skin. Although, there’s a bit more life to his complexion now. His curls tumble down onto his shoulders, denser and more defined as if he’d washed his hair recently. He’s no longer wearing baggy clothes, so you can see the true broadness of his shoulders. The undeniable tone of his slim frame. 

Under the weight of your observant gaze, he clears his throat, eyes flicking to the ground. “Sorry. It’s been a while,” he says. “I don’t know what the protocol is for performers anymore.”  

With everything you’ve learned over the past few weeks, you weren’t expecting him here. You’d hung out with him several times since learning he was a vampire, but it was either at his house or somebody else's. Never out and about, and certainly not around other people. 

His shoulders relax when you smile and open the door wider for him to come inside. He smells good as he brushes past you with tentative steps. 

“The green room is still where you remember it,” you call, trailing after him as he heads that way. 

It’s more of a supply room now. There are napkins, utensils, cleaning solutions, the whole lot. A few aux cords and other random pieces of sound equipment remain from back in the day. 

Eddie pads over to a small shelf, filled with old inspection documents and financial forms, and carefully scoots the stack to the right. Curiosity gets the better of you as you go to look over his shoulder. 

He can hear your breaths even though they aren’t loud. The gentle, steady beating of your heart. He can’t pretend it isn’t what he came for. 

Written in permanent marker against the wood of the shelf is a messy cluster of Corroded Coffin signatures dated with the year 1987. The year everything changed. Among the names, is his written in chunky capital letters, devil ears on either end. 

“I never knew that was there,” you say fondly.

He turns around to face you. “We thought we were so cool.” The memory makes him smile. 

A brief moment passes of taking each other in. You break the silence, “If you wanna perform, you can go out when the drums stop. Jim gets up there every evening and eventually wears himself out. I say he’s got another five minutes left in him.”

“Everyone’s got their process,” Eddie jokes. He’s rewarded with the sweet sound of your laugh. You pretend you wouldn’t rather stay hidden in this small, stuffy room and chat the remainder of your shift away. 

Jim stops playing as you predicted, but it isn’t until you’re back at the bar that Eddie emerges. You take the time to actually read what’s painted in white on the dark wood of his guitar: THIS MACHINE SLAYS Dragons. The room immediately goes quiet as he takes a seat on the edge of the stage, commanding it without doing anything at all. He even garners the attention of drunk eyes in their blurry haze. 

Without looking up from the fingerboard, he begins a connected series of languid strums, rings glinting in the low light. 

The melodic notes soon shape into a song. One that’s as somber as it is beautiful. It’s in no way akin to the punk and metal music that usually ricochets off the walls, but there’s no complaints. Everyone is transfixed by the way he simply watches his fingers as he plays. As if his heart isn’t bleeding out before their very eyes and reaching out to theirs. 

Once upon a time, he got a kick out of being rowdy and playing off the audience’s energy. But now, simply being seen and heard was enough. Especially after a period of wandering the dark. 

He’d told himself that this was the week he’d come out of hiding. That he was worth more than living in the shadows where he couldn’t make any mistakes. 

Scattered applause rises when he finishes. Samuel, abruptly slides from his barstool and slaps a few wrinkled dollar bills on the counter for you with his good hand. There’s a tug in your chest when you notice the tears welling in his eyes. 

“Who is that kid anyway?” he asks, swiping beneath them. 

You offer a small smile. “Eddie Munson.”

“I’d pay good money to hear his story,” he says, gathering his jacket from the back of the stool. “Tell your folks I say hello.” With that, he gets up and leaves, disappearing into the night.

Eddie stands from the stage as well. A few people file into his personal space to compliment and thank him for playing, but it doesn’t seem to phase him. He doesn’t flinch or cower away. The smile that eases across his face is so genuine that you can feel yourself being compelled into his orbit as well. 

You remain behind the bar, however. 

“Hey, lady, are you deaf or something?” A man taps his empty beer glass down on the bar in front of you, clearly intoxicated or at least halfway there. “Gimme another.” 

Alex is quick to pick up your slack, sliding up alongside you to give the guy a fresh glass. “Take a chill pill, man,” he says, fixing the guy with a firm look. 

“I’m Eric fucking Rutherford, and she’s on the clock.” He belches after taking a few big gulps. “She can visit la-la land on her own time. Shit, I’m going to go take a piss,” he grumbles. 

Eddie hears the whole exchange even though he wishes he hadn’t. He hears everything nowadays.

You shoot Alex a tired, apologetic smile. What you don’t see is Eddie placing his guitar on the stage and following Eric into the bathroom. 

Another perk of being undead is that nobody scares him anymore. 

“You can clock out early if you want,” Alex insists. “It’s only gonna get crazier.” 

The loud squeak of the hinges pierce through the air as Eddie slips through the bathroom door. Eric gives him a charged glance before unzipping his pants and taking care of his business. Eddie’s heavy boots clunk against the wet tile as he makes his way to the urinal right beside the man, staring down into the dingy ceramic.

“You a fairy or something? All this space and you wanna be right up under me.” Eddie can hear the man’s heartbeat speed up in his chest. Not from fear, fear sounded different. This was more like hopefulness.

Like a secret desire packed down so tight it was begging for a reason to be set free. Upon finishing, Eric zips his pants and gives Eddie another look, “Well, are you?”

Eddie’s jaw ticks as he shadows Eric to the sink. “What does matter to you?” He clocks the wedding band on the man’s ring finger. 

It’s hard to make out a reflection amid all the cracks and scribbled writing on the mirror, but Eric can see Eddie looming behind him like a stone wall. They lock eyes, and there’s something about Eddie’s gaze that makes it hard to look away. The man has no choice but to let down his facade. 

There was an inexplicable force willing him to do so. An inhuman compulsion. Eddie can’t bring himself to feel bad for leveraging an ability he seldom used. 

In a ruse of friendliness, he pulls out a couple sheets of paper towels and hands them to Eric. “Now you’re just stringing me along and playing hard to get,” the man accuses. “There’s a motel right across the street if you wanna drop the act.”

“No thanks,” Eddie says cooly. 

That startles a laugh out of him. “No thanks? Yeah, right—” 

Eric's face pales when dark veins begin to snake beneath Eddie’s eyes. 

Back in the main room, your head snaps up from wiping the bar when Eric bursts out of the bathroom, letting out a string of terrified expletives. He nearly trips over himself as he casts numerous glances over his shoulder, but nobody’s chasing after him. 

Multiple people call out to ask what’s wrong, but he chokes on his breath when he tries to speak. Seeing the intense flush of his face makes your heartbeat pound in your ears like Jim’s drumming. The tempo swells when he locks eyes with you. 

Eddie listens from the bathroom as he splashes his face with cold water. 

“I’m sorry, alright?” Eric forces out. “We’re cool now, okay? No more bad blood.”

You nod, frozen in place at the realization of the only person who could make him this afraid. With the acceptance of your apology, he darts out the front door on shaky legs. 

•••

Not even ten minutes later, you’re scolding Eddie after accepting his offer to drive you home. It’s an invitation you could’ve passed on, if you hadn’t long regretted your decision to bike to work. Eddie’s van smells earthen, with faint undertones of tobacco and the cinnamon car freshener hanging from their rearview. 

He can hear the waver of concern in your voice as you carry on. 

“And what if he tells?” you ask. “What if he recognized you?”  

“He didn’t recognize me. And he won’t tell,” Eddie says, a little too sure for your liking. 

“You don’t know that, Eddie. Jesus.” You slouch back into the passenger seat and go silent for the first time during the entire ride. Only then does guilt begin gnawing at you, relentless nips all over your body. 

Eddie was at least trying to get back out into the world, and here you were scolding him for standing up in your defense. 

You look over to his hands as he drives, the glint of his rings. Eddie has pretty, slender fingers. He can feel you staring, but doesn’t respond because he has no regrets. Not only have his senses been amplified since the Upside Down, but so has his willingness to defend. He’d spent so long running from everyone and everything, as if being a coward was woven into the inner fabric of his being. But not anymore. 

There was an unyielding sense of protectiveness you managed to stir within him. That’s how everything felt when it came to you. He has to fight to ignore how aware he is of you. Your aura, your scent, the way your blood smells sweeter now that it was just the two of you making passage through the night. 

He licks over his teeth and his tingling gums, ignoring the relentless pull of desire. 

Looking out the passenger side window as the town passes by only works for so long. “Hey, Eddie?” you murmur. “I’m sorry for raising my voice. I just worry.” 

You shrink in on yourself when he looks over at you with more fondness than you deserve. “It’s alright,” he says.

A smile finally twitches at his lips when you hold out your pinky. He indulges you, hooking his larger one around yours. 

•••

It’s no surprise he receives an invitation inside your trailer once you’ve arrived. It feels weird being back in the small, othered community that raised him. There were a few occasions he’d come to visit Wayne at night when nobody could see. Other than that, it was the older man who came to him instead. 

The small space is cozy and lived-in. A courtesy of one of your aunt’s who’d fled Hawkins but was willing to rent the place out for cheap. Eddie’s enhanced scent allows him to perceive every note. It’s overwhelming in the best way. He could tune it all out if he wanted, but he’s greedy when it comes to you. 

You head to your bedroom as he takes off his boots by the door, bracing a hand on the wall. With owl-like eyes, watching the sway of your hips in your jeans as you disappear. Then he begins to look around in curiosity. There are numerous pictures of your friends and family. Shelves on the walls that hold different frames, trinkets, and figurines. The layout of the trailer is similar to his Uncle Wayne’s in that the living room and kitchen bleed into each other, but you’ve made a more functional utilization of the space. 

It soon registered that the shuffling sound coming from your room is you attempting to tidy up. A smile tugs at his lips. 

A small squeak escapes you as you turn around from closing a drawer of your dresser. Eddie is leaning in the doorway with an amused look on his face, and you can’t even conjure up an excuse for what you’re doing. 

“Can I come in?” he asks. 

“No,” you huff, a grin threatening to break through. 

A chuckle shakes his chest. “Please?” 

There’s a giddy flutter within you. “You’re banned for life.” 

“For life,” he repeats as he saunters in. “That’s not fair.” 

Your room reminds him of Robin’s, though it’s not as reflective of your more teenage interests. There’s more of a mature refinement that still brims with personality. 

Eddie walks over to your small, somewhat cluttered desk and picks up your journal as your back is turned away. 

When your eyes land on him again, he’s sitting on the foot of your bed, the book flipped open. His gaze is fixed on the first page, where your name and the date you started writing in it are scrawled in your handwriting. He’d never be so bold in invading your privacy. He only picked it up to get a rise out of you. As expected, your heart sinks into your feet at the sight. 

“Eddie, no,” you whine, rushing over to swipe it away, completely unaware that you’ve crowded between his legs. He angles it out of your reach with a teasing grin on his face. “It’s not funny, I’m being serious.” Still, a helpless laugh bubbles out of you in betrayal. 

You reach for it again, but this time he falls onto his back, extending his arm above his head. 

Placing one knee on the bed between his spread legs, you lean forward, bracing with one hand as you reach for your journal with the other. Eddie’s breath catches when your chest brushes against his face, warmth flooding his cheeks and pleasantly melting lower and lower. 

In an effort to save himself from doing something stupid, he slips his free hand under your sweater to press his fingers into your skin like he’s playing the piano. A small squeak escapes you before you tumble into the sweetest laughter. 

You scoot further down his body to escape and, in your warm, giggly haze, capture his lips in a kiss that sends both of your heads soaring into the clouds.  

You tell yourself it’s only to get him to stop tickling you, but it’s more than that. It’s a bursting forth of every feeling that reawakened the moment you learned he was still alive. All the lost years come rushing back for their recompense in the intoxicating heat of your kiss. 

Eddie drops the journal in favor of settling both hands on your waist to steady you above him. Even then, he’s not sure how long he’ll be able to carry on like this. A familiar sensation starts up in his gums, and he makes a small sound in the back of his throat that sounds grieved. 

Almost immediately, you pull away, staring down at his spit slicked lips. “Are you okay?” you murmur, studying his face with concern.  

He nods in place of speaking, but when you lean back in to peck his lips, he makes that same sound again, pushing gently at your waist. 

“Hold on,” he breathes. 

Your brows furrow until you get the idea to raise his upper lip with a gentle thumb. For the first time, up close and personal, you see that his fangs have extended. Weakly, he fights against you to close his mouth, but you don’t move your finger. There’s a sense of wonder in your eyes as you study them, pearly and sharp. 

He feels exposed, like he’s an animal receiving an inspection. 

“Alright,” he halfheartedly urges, turning his head away to get you to stop. In doing so, the sharp end of his right fang ends up nicking your thumb. Wincing, you step back to your full height, allowing him to sit up. 

“Shit, I’m sorry. Lemme see?” He raises your hand to assess the damage. It’s nothing major. A trickle of blood runs from the puncture. 

“I’m okay.” 

He doesn’t let go of your hand. Neither has he looked away from the blood. It’d be easy for him to slip your finger into his mouth and suck it off. But he doesn’t, unsure he’d be able to stop. 

That’s when a willing look sparks in your eyes. 

“It’s okay,” you assure, recalling how your own childhood consisted of quickly sucking away the blood from minor cuts and scrapes. It was nothing. You trust him. 

Eddie blinks, conflicted, then presses his lips to the pad of your thumb as if he’s offering a kiss. You feel the wet warmth of his tongue as he pokes it out. Your blood is too good. If he never drank it again, this would be more than enough. All he needed was one taste when it came to you.   

•••

𝙵𝙰𝙻𝙻 𝟷𝟿𝟿𝟶

Leaving Hawkins

Come Again Soon 

Passing the sign had almost felt wrong, but the breeze flowing in from the cracked windows didn’t. Neither did the gentle weight of Eddie’s hand resting on your thigh. Even now, as you and Eddie wander your way around a carnival two towns over, the words lingered around the edges of your mind. For a fleeting second, you allow yourself to imagine that the two of you were bound to never return.  

Golden hour paints everything in an ethereal glow. The air smells like pumpkin spice, cider, and straw. Lights from various attractions twinkle and flash like small colorful stars. Laughter and thrilled screams seem to have permanent residency in the air. So much life pulsed all around. More than Hawkins would likely ever see again for a long time. Eddie looks over at you when you squeeze his hand. 

“Doing alright?” you ask quietly. 

He nods. “You?” 

You nod. “I’ve been working up the courage to ask you to go in a photo booth with me.” 

A surprised laugh slips past Eddie’s lips. “What do you mean courage?”

“Last time we went in one together, you said never again,” you mock the sound of his voice, recalling the flustered look on his face. It’d been your fault, your hands had wandered, drawing eyes when you exited the booth. 

“Yeah, well, I changed my mind,” he says. 

Upon crawling into the next available booth, it’s a tight fit. Your thighs press together, but you can’t bring yourself to mind. Sometimes you couldn’t get close enough. The black curtains hanging on either side surprisingly manage to block out a decent amount of light. With a giddy smile on your face, you cling to Eddie’s free arm as he pays and presses the buttons necessary to advance past the main menu. When it comes time to take your series of photos, a brief sense of panic washes over you.

“Wait, we never planned out our poses.” 

Eddie chuckles as he drapes an arm over your shoulders and kisses your temple. “We can wing it. We’re good at that.”

Turns out he’s right. You can’t stop gushing at the strip of black-and-white pictures once you’re back on the outside. Out of the four, your favorite one is where you’re both smiling into the camera with your head resting on his shoulder. It strikes you then, how fortunate you are to be able to spend moments like this with him. If you could comb through entire dictionaries, ‘easy’ was still the word you’d settle on when it came to Eddie. It was easy to exist alongside him. He was kind in a way you’d never experienced in a relationship. And funny in a quiet sort of way you wouldn’t necessarily expect at first glance.  

“Prettiest girl in the world,” Eddie compliments as you start walking again. “Got me wrapped around your finger.” 

Instead of responding, you hook your arm around his and tuck yourself closer. A brief silence stretches between you, but the sounds of the fairgrounds continue all around like magic. You’ll remember this evening forever. 

“Thank you,” Eddie eventually says, tone thick with sincerity. You don’t ask what he’s referring to because you know it’s not one singular thing.

Even during that melancholic night when you almost hit him with your car, he knew there was something about you he wouldn’t be able to shake for a long time. Had he not seen you again, he still would’ve remembered your face, the sound of your voice, how evident it was that you cared, even in your tiredness. But then Luna led you back to him, and you brought him back to life. You showed him that there was so much worth living for, that it was okay to mess up sometimes. There was nothing to gain when you never took a chance. 

Eventually, you find yourselves in line for the ferris wheel. By the time you reach front, the sun has surrendered its golden glow to a calmer pink hue settling closer to the horizon. The lights from all the rides look particularly nice twinkling in the budding twilight. 

The cart rocks gently as you and Eddie board with care. Once you’re settled and the wheel continues its revolution, everything below no longer seems as grand. The game stands, food booths, kiddie roller coasters, countless fairgoers walking around. There’s a flutter in your gut from the new height, and you welcome it. 

When Eddie interlocks his fingers with yours, you look down at your joint hands, a smile creeping onto your face. Before you know it, you’ve reached the top. You almost expect it to keep going, but it eases to a complete stop, your cart swaying softly with the sudden stillness. 

“Sweetheart,” Eddie says. You meet his gaze. His eyes are dark like they always are, seemingly looking straight into your soul. 

Rather than continuing whatever he was going to say, he cups your face and presses his lips to yours. A pleasant warmth rushes down to your toes as if you weren’t already on top of the world. Eddie is a gentle kisser, always acutely aware of the thirst you stirred within him. One he’d never quite felt before, even when he wasn’t hungry. You’ve learned his cues, when to keep leaning in or pull away. Kissing him is exhilerating in that way. 

You’re too wrapped up in the softness of his lips to pay any mind to the teenagers on the cart behind you attempting to stifle their giggles. 

Nor do you mind the brief stinging sensation of your lower lip catching one of Eddie’s fangs. The indulgent lap of his tongue that occurs in time with the tangy, metallic taste that registers on your own. 

All around, the world carries on. Even lonesome Hawkins where it rests miles away. 

-

Thank you so much for reading! Any interaction is greatly appreciated, I promise I see it all.

Feel free to let me know what you think. (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

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[multiwreckedmess]

Kinktober Day 17

Prompt: Threesome/Moresome Pairing: OT8 SKZ x fem!reader WC: 4.4k Summary: Maybe after this the term “comeback” takes on a new meaning.

This is a work of fiction, it does not represent any Stray Kids member. On top of this it is an 18+ work. For my comfort and boundaries please if you are under age do not interact with this.

I feel the need especially with “rougher” prompts like this to put the disclaimer - fanfic should NOT ever be used as a guide to relationships or sex. ESPECIALLY SEX. Again, it’s fiction. Stuff gets glossed over for the sake of a good story. Please PLEASE please again, not fact, not a guide, just a fantasy.

Additional TW/CW below the cut.

TW/CW: Gangbang, lots of cum, light bondage, reader goes nonverbal, all consenting, traffic light system and boundaries discussed, anal, piv, oral (male receiving), titfucking, multiple partners, dirty talk, multiple pet names, cumming prematurely(?), some aftercare/during care. 

 Eight pairs of hands. Eight types of touch to match their eight personalities. Sudden squeezes, languid strokes, hesitant brushes, deep pushes, light tugs, gentle pats, intermittent shy caresses, persistent strong grasps. It was Chan’s idea that you’d heartily agreed to.  “The boys have been seeming sort of down lately,” you’d mentioned over the thundering rush of dishwater. “Should I make a cake or something?”  Nose pressed to the side of your head Chan inhales deeply, squeezing the fronts your thighs. The scent of your scalp and the squish of your quads soothing his anxious mind. “We’ve been working hard. I think it’ll turn out well.”  “So…cake? Can you all eat it? I could make a carrot cake or modify-”  Chan grabs a handful of ass, not one to miss the opportunity for a bad pun. “Wouldn’t mind sharing some of this cake. I’m sure we could all enjoy it.”  “You think?”  “Baby, the reason the boys are always excited to see you…”  “It’s not the novelty of Betty Crocker Funfetti?” Chan giggles, grabbing a handful of bum as he grinds against you, an obvious lump forming in his sweatpants. “We could make you into Funfetti.”  “How do the boys feel about pie,” you ask coyly, pushing your hips back to greet him.

 That was how this whole idea started. And now you were tied to a bench, trussed up like a pretty present, holes exposed and ready. Blindfolded.

 It’s easy to sink into the sensation of each of their hands, unique in their own right. You can only really for sure name Chan’s, calloused and firm.  “...and we can do anything?” Jeongin’s voice twangs, tense at the thought. “She really will let us do anything?”  You’re only half listening, indulging in the peace of mind numbing stimulation. Moaning and nodding as your chin wrests on the bench you’re strapped over.  “She knows how to say no. Color system, if she’s unable to speak, two pinches is slow, three is stop everything.”  A chorus of tenor and baritone voices murmur in agreement. Your stomach tingles, chills passing the inches of exposed skin. You’re so ready. You’re beyond ready.

 There’s almost a ghost of a touch, floating down your side as the room shifts.  “We’re going to pass you around like the cheap whore you were born to be.” A deep bassy voice purrs in your ear, Felix. Your back arches exposing more of your holes like a cat in heat. “You like that? You like the sound of my voice, pretty? Does that turn you on? We’re all watching you.”  “Mhm,” you bite your lips and you wiggle against your confinements.  “Want me to tell you everything we’re gonna do to you? Dirty slut. First we’re all gonna give this cute little cunt a try,” you feel him slide his fingers along your slit, staying shallow enough to tease your entrance before catching the rim of your jeweled plug weighing heavily in your hole. “Chris did say we can use you however we want.” Felix muses as he pushes the end closer to your rim, jostling it just enough to earn a whine.  “Hurry the fuck up,” another voice chimes in, two fingers roughly ramming into your wet hole. Seungmin. Impatiently pressing his tip against the cleft of your ass as he fingers you open. “She’s ready, I’m ready. Keep doing your perv asmr thing but I’m fucking her.”

 With that Seungmin pushes into you, sighing with relief. Your spine curls as much as you can, spread over the bench as you are, fingers scrambling in the air.  “Oh fuck!” Seungmins hands wander over the small of your back, pushing weight down on you as his hips rock back and forth. “You have to try this pussy, god damn. Now i see why the old man is so fucking whipped.” He groans again as he pulls all the way out until only the very tip of his shaft is still sheathed. Glistening with your arousal he uses his thumbs to spread your slit wide, watching your walls stretch to accommodate him.  “Minnie’s right, you’re taking him so well. In fact, you’re going to take all eight of us aren’t you?” Felix purrs. “Now, be a doll and open your mouth for me.”  You drop your jaw, tongue lolling out, blindly accepting whatever Felix was going to give you.  Before Seungmin can build any speed and before Felix has his way with your mouth you hear a commotion at your rear. Then Seunmgin being pulled from you, leaving you jaw agape and whining from the loss of fullness.

 “Asshole, before you fuck her up we all gotta try.” Sharp words with crisp plosives cut through the confusion. Suddenly a thicker intrusion bullies its way between your walls. “Tremendous ass princess,” a hearty smack of a rough hand comes down on your ass cheek. You’re barely breathing with the thick length shoved snugly inside of you, the force of the spank has every muscle flexing to hold you together.  You moan.  Two hands grab each lobe, molding them like putty in his strong grip. Changbin. “Can’t wait to run you through.”  You’d always wondered about the rapper, most closely your type following your own boyfriend. How did his dual persona fit into his bedroom manner, how alike would he be to Chan, was it true what they said about rappers and their tongues? As suddenly as he’d entered you feel the protested drag of your walls, eager to keep him as he exits.  A thinly voiced dragged out “no” escapes your lips.  “Bok-ah, you want next?” Changbin offers, patting your ass.  You’d almost forgot Felix was there.  “I’m okay with just these pretty lips up here,” he says as he thumbs over your lower lip. Dropping your jaw again you remember he’d wanted this to begin with, before the other boys had started tag teaming your cunt.  “I’m okay too,” IN chimes in, “I can wait my turn.” He lowers his voice almost imperceptibly, just enough to sound like a cool mature guy. You could just imagine him standing a bit farther back, eyes transfixed on your glistening lips as they stretched for each of his members.  “Yeah you’re the only impatient one, meathead.” Minho. Of course Minho. His hips roll easily against you, just a taste of what’s to come. His hand runs over your ass, over the other entrance. “Got any toys for her?” He addresses the room, talking as though you couldn’t reply.

 Felix, you assume, finally taps the tip of his length against your tongue. Much to your delight he’s slightly sweeter than you’d assume as you lick against him. Chan’s reply to Minho is inaudible as Felix purrs. “You like that? Been drinking nothing but pineapple juice for you. Chris told me you’d like that.”

 Taking him fully in your mouth you bob enthusiastically focusing fully on him as two more strange new cocks slide into you all too briefly before Seungmin settles back over you, fucking you with a steady and uncomplicated rhythm. Felix is veiny, fun to explore as you run the length of him. He easily guides you the full way down, your nose pressing into his pubic bone as spit runs down your face. “Hey Chris, can we take off the blindfold?”  “Sure man, whatever you want.”  The blindfold flips up to your forehead. Luckily the lights are low enough so your eyes don’t have to adjust much. “Focus on my face sweetheart. Just want to see your pretty teary fucked out face while we ruin you.” Felix smiles as he feeds you his cock all the way to the base once more, watching you splutter and fight back your gag reflex. The tight ring of your throat squeezing him as he grinds into the wet warmth. You battle valiantly to keep your eyes looking up at him as they threaten to flutter shut, tears streaking your cheeks.  Not a second too soon he eases up, beaming down at you, thumbs wiping at your stained face. “Such a good girl for us. Chris is gonna be so proud of you.”  You smile for a second, spit burbling from your lips, before you feel Seungmins hands at your mid back, pushing you into a deeper arch. From one strong stroke you can tell he’s found it, face opening into a groan. “Do that shit again ‘Lix. I wanna see her struggle.”  “You heard the man, you ready?” He watches as you gulp and take a deep breath which is almost immediately punched out of you by Seungmin slamming his hips against you. Your fingers grip the legs of the bench as you are pressed between their bodies as deep as they can go on either end. Groaning around Felix and clasping down on Seungmin the noise in your brain crescendos and violently mutes into a peaceful fuzzy static.  Seungmin laughs as you twitch and spasm.  “Holy fuck, I can’t-” Felix struggles to keep his hips steady, eyes rolling back in ecstasy.  “I’m gonna too-” You can hear the gritting of Seungmins teeth as he speaks.  “Be good and take it all okay, take all I’ve got-” Felix mutters, spilling down the back of your throat. You gag, tears and spit and snot running everywhere as he pulls back from you, still weakly spurting on his thighs.  Barely able to breathe as Seungmin chases his high you mumble his nickname over and over. “Minnie, oh-fucking- ah-” Felix’s hand keeps your head from scraping against the bench as you become boneless, eyelids fluttering shut. Seungmin pulls from you just as you reach your high, whining and writhing in the agony of denial. Hot cum splashes across your ass slowly dripping down your thighs.

 “How’s our girl doing,” a soft melodic voice asks. “What your color darling?”  “Green,” you pant, vision still swimming. “Green green green green.”  He laughs. Hyunjin’s giggle. Good.  Slim and strong, there is always something languid about his movements. His finger tip traces your spine gently. “A beautiful sculpture should be appreciated,” he says slowly. It sends shivers running after his hands. Descending to the curve of your ass he spreads you wider, licking into your puffy oversensitive parts. Tongue lapping at you as you squeal the wet lewd sounds fill the air.  “Fuck, Hyunnie!” You practically rock the bench as you writhe. His tongue ventures to your other hole, teasing the tight bundle until you cry out. All of your fingers and toes curl and twitch as your walls clench around nothing. “Fuck me please,” you beg, voice wrecked with sobs. You’re surprised at your quick rebound but the promise of the lithe dancer is almost too much to bear.  Hyunjin’s lips graze your shoulder blade as he bottoms out in you with a shudder of effort, nearly knocking the bench forward in his attempt to get as much of himself inside of you as possible. Churning in your stomach you feel full again, fuller even. You nearly cum again, world whiting out in front of your eyes.  “That’s right pretty, all for you.” You wish you could see, could watch the man fuck into you more than anything in the world. He feels larger than you’d have ever expected from his slight frame.  Draped over you, the squelching of your two sweaty bodies pervades your mind as he humps quickly and shallowly. Chasing his high more than anything, each thrust punches you in the gut. The sounds that come from your mouth are unladylike wheezes that catch in your throat and turn into grunts. Two long fingers fill your mouth, sticky and salty from the mix of bodily fluids. Hyunjin cums mercifully quickly, spilling inside of you.  “I wanna see the other guys fuck it deeper,” he whispers, sweat dripping from his nose to your cheek. The thought gives you goosebumps.  Strong arms wrap around your back, caging over you as he undoes your buckled down arms to lift you from your post. Your toes barely sweep the floor before he has you on the nearby mattress. Changbin, stronger than your Channie, surprises you with his gentleness. For all the hurrying and jeering he’d done to the other guys, he’s suddenly soft with you.  “Hey,” he smiles all too familiarly, in a way that makes your gut stir. “Tired yet, princess? Told ya we’d run you through.”  You make grabby hands up at him, whining as you try to pull him closer.  “She usually non-verbal?” Changbin actually sounds a little concerned as he turns his head to ask your boyfriend. “Or should we- are you still good? Still green princess?”  You nod.  “If she says go, go.”  Changbin doesn’t waste another second, pushing into you aided by Hyunjin’s cum. The stretch despite the other members best efforts still forces a guttural groan from your lungs. He’s not as long as the others but the change of angle and thickness makes up for it in the best way. You can feel him bullying the plug on the other side of your walls in a way no one else has managed to do. He nuzzles into your neck as he starts fucking into you, only grunts coming from his normally busy mouth. Zoned into the singular thought of filling you.  With your hands finally free you’re able to explore his back as you scramble to hold yourself together. Your fingernails leave little crescents in the otherwise steel frame. Sturdy and unshakable as you tremor below him.  “Bin- I’m- ah-” you start to warn him of your swiftly approaching climax but he’s two steps ahead as your cunt clenches down. Arms wrapping beneath your thighs he pushes your hips just a little bit higher up. You see stars. It’s like he’s fully in your guts as he maintains his pace, fucking right into that spongy spot of yours. Mouth agape you can feel yourself wanting to make noise but your head is so full you can’t tell if its actually happening or not. All of your muscles contract at once as you climax.  “Holy shit did she-” the next thing you hear is a murmur from Jeongin. Release drips down Changbin’s pelvis as you both pant.  “Oh yeah, that’s our princess,” Changbin smiles like a champion as he slides from you, spent. Both of you are soaked in your cum, his cum, and Hyunjins cum. Grabbing the box of baby wipes he starts to clean himself off before he sees Chan start to clean your thighs. You barely notice he’s waddled off and back until you are being propped up between his thighs, a straw passing between your lips. “Drink for a good job.”

 The click of a cap is like fingers snapping, awakening you from your fucked foggy state. You look up and back to see Minho’s upsidedown bemused smirk as he watches the meatheads treat you like the sentient communal fuck doll that needs a tune up. Slowly he strokes himself, appraising you.

 “Jiji, care to join? I think this one has room for two.”  “Huh? Y-yeah,” you hear the taut voice of Han on the opposite side of the room.  “Hey, big boy, move.” Minho is less gentle with him, sliding behind you to take his place behind you, holding you between his thighs as Changbin had. His hands spread you wide open to the room, fingers grazing over the plug still nestled between your cheeks. The nearly icy drip of lube tickles your other hole, sliding around the stem of the plug. A deep breath in helps relax and allow the applier to slowly fuck the metal in and out..  Minho chuckles and smacks your thigh, your hole clenching down suddenly. “Are you tired? Huh? Too many cocks? Be thankful there’s only eight of us.” Thumb positioned on the end of the jeweled plug he slowly teases, swirling in languid circles as you writhe. Each nudge has your stomach tensing, desire growing within you.  Han Jisung is standing in front of you as you look dazed up at him. Blood rushes to his cock so fast he swears he might pass out from the loss to his brain. He watches as Minho finally fully tugs the plug from your fluttering hole and lifts you, slowly spearing you on his cock. Your chest heaves as you slide, mouth open and panting. Minho’s fingers fill your cunt, the sloppy sound of several fluids mixing reverberates in his skull.  “You going to stand there or fuck her?” Minho casually nods down to his fingers. “There’s room. Right, doll?”  You nod mutely, wriggling your ass on him.  Han dives head first into your cunt, eagerly pushing his tongue deep inside of you, lapping at Minho’s soaked fingers. Your legs threaten to snap shut on his head as your oversensitive pussy sends waves of bliss through your body. Minho keeps you locked open as he rocks himself slowly against your ass just barely moving his cock inside of you. It isn’t like he has to do much with Han’s tongue flicking so desperately at your slit.  Groaning, you’re unsure of whose name to call out. Minho or Han?  “Going to cum again? Thought you might be too worn out.”  “H-ha,” you half laugh and moan. You want to boast and brag but the hubris is fucked far from you. Back arching, your hole clenches down on him. You’re so very very close. His hands migrate to your tits, grabbing them, letting the space between his fingers lightly pinch your soft skin. They’d been so neglected and needy that the sudden attention pushes you over the edge, cumming hard on Han’s tongue. He continues to lap at you through it, not stopping until Minho tugs at his hair.  “Jiji, where do you wanna cum, I’m close.” Minho grunts. Sweat travels down his brow.  Han makes a quick appraisal of you, “wannafuckhertits.”  You’re tossed like a ragdoll to the mattress again, Minho easily positioning you on your back with your legs slung around his hips. Han straddles your chest, thighs are warm on your ribcage. His cock is practically drooling precum as he slides it between your mounds, quickly slicking up with your sweat. Squishing the sides together his eyes lock where the head of his cock pops out and disappears. Your tits are so hot around him as his precum slicks the valley between.  “Open,” he commands breathily, waiting for your lips to part. The second they do he drags the pad of his thumb over the wet inner side, pulling them open more. Your tongue naturally hangs out loosely, eyes glazed over. You’ve long given up any pretense of modesty. Of pretending this wasn’t exactly what you’d hoped for. His hand goes to the back of your skull to support your head as you crane forward to attempt to kiss his member. Grunting and straining you’re both working so hard for it as Minho pounds away and jostles you just enough to increase the difficulty.  You feel Minho climax, warmth spreading inside of you. He barely misses a beat as his leg clenches, sinking deeply into you, holding your legs aloft. Your eyelids flutter and toes curl. It feels good to be this full. Feels good to be this filthy. You stretch your tongue just the bit longer and feel contact, hot and salty. Ropes of hot cum jet across your chest and chin and lips as Han’s breath hitches. He freezes and gasps, staring as his cock continues to dribble onto your clavicle.  “Shit I-”  “Ssfine -s’good.”  He stares at his handy work.  “Clean it.” Minho says from behind his back. “Clean your mess.”  Han moves quickly without questioning him, licking across all the streams that he’d shot only looking up, ostensibly to Chan to check if he could clean your lips. The only one to dare to do so, tentatively licking your bottom lip before fully taking it between his lips. Not fully locking into a kiss, not quite.  Your stomach churns as you return to emptiness, only your boyfriend and the youngest left. The others preoccupying themselves with clean up and their own after care.  “How do you want ‘er?” Chan lifts your torso up off the bed and into his arms again, plying you with water. A quick kiss to the cheek asuages any fear that he wasn’t also enjoying himself. “C’mon maknae. Top? Side? Back? She’s got just enough left in her. Don’t you, my sweet thing?”  You nod, “how do you want me?”  It’s only a moment of consideration longer as his eyes linger on your pussy, red and raw. Jeongin’s sweet smile looks all the more sinful as he nears. He slides you into his arms with a surprising ease. A look of shock flashes across your face as he lifts you on to his cock, still standing. Chan had fucked you standing occasionally, but you hadn’t expected this of Innie. Your sweet Innie. Squealing as you let gravity bounce you off his hips, driving him deeper and deeper, clit aching as the blunt pressure hits each time. You’re practically grappled to him, arms locked over his shoulders and ankles crossed behind his back.  Curses spill from your mouth like a prayer. Everything burns bright as you hurtle towards your climax. The thrumbing of your pulse rings in your head and your breath catches. But Jeongin falters slightly, his own breath catching suddenly as well, fingers digging into the meat of your ass. His cock slips between your bodies as he fumbles a few thrusts. A sudden spurt of warmth hits your thigh and stomach. Jeongin is swearing.  “You didn’t- I’m sorry I-”  You blink at him bemused.  He sighs into your shoulder, “I came already.”  “Oh? Oh don’t worry about it I-”  “I wanted to make you cum.”

 The puff of air from your short giggle tickles his throat. Your lips are warm where they kiss his cheek. “You’re so cute.”  As your arms start to burn you’re ripped from Jeongin’s arms and tossed unceremoniously to the bed again. A strong grip wraps around your ankle and tugs your ass to the edge of the mattress. This was how you’d assumed Changbin would be. Instead you see Chan’s wide grin looking over you.  “You look so fucking hot babe.” He praises you as he pushes his cock into your ass, watching your eyes roll back into your skull. “Love it when you’re fucked out like this. When all you can do is take cock.”  You shudder. Tired and overwhelmed and needy under him. Sticky. He feels…good. Its the only word your tired mind can center on. You feel good.  “Innie- you wanna make her cum right?” Chan asks over his shoulder. “Grab that er…big white thing with the blue buttons and c’mere.” Momentarily he leans forward to kiss you, letting his hips gently rock into you. You whimper. He nuzzles you. “Doing alright, sweet thing?”  You nod into his shoulder. “Tired.”  “Don’t worry, princess, I’ll do everything,” Chan pushes the sticky strands of hair back from your face and turns to his group mate. Jeongin barely weighs the bed down as he crawls to your side. “She’ll cum quick so make sure that fucker is set low okay? She’s had a long night already.” Jeongin nods. The toy whirrs to life and he starts to lower it. “Check it on yourself first, bro.” Chan knocks the toy back. “Inside of your wrist.”  You hear a few clicks. Chan locks eyes with you, he looks like a god between your legs. He carefully stretches one to kiss your calf. His cock stirs your insides, thick bastard. You moan and close your eyes. You trust him.  Jeongin carefully places the toy over your mound, your back arching away from the bed. Chan instructed him well.  “Talk her through it.”  “Huh?”  “She likes it when you talk to her, she won’t talk back but she’ll sound really pretty.”  You gasp and whine. He’s right.  Jeongin’s voice is smooth above the buzz of the toy, talking just under his breath enough for only the three of you to hear. “Our prettiest girl did so well for us. Making all your boyfriend’s friends cum. You really are made for taking cock, no wonder Channie hyung keeps you all locked up. Just imagine the trouble we’d get in if he let you into the practice room.”  Another gasp. You can see it, you’re there with him and with Chan at the same time.  “Couch broken. Mirror streaked with sweat and cum. We’d ruin it. But you’d like that. Show everyone who’s girl you are. Right? You’re our princess.”  Your legs are shaking as you nod. Chest tightening again your gut coils in anticipation.  “Can our princess cum again? Please?”  Your legs tremble in answer, hand reaching out to wrap around Jeongin’s bicep. He can see the tension in your neck as your muscles clench all the way to the top of your skull. You’re so so so painfully nearly there.  “Tight lil’ hole ‘s likea vice-” Chan manages to slur. “Ah, fuck, baby-” his voice crackles as he sucks in air through his clenched teeth,”-cum with me darling. Be a good girl.”  Everything happens in a flash, your breath hitching, head thrown back. A magnificent groan spills from your gaping mouth, almost loud enough to rattle the vibrator back. Chan slows as your hips stutter and kick, his warmth spreading inside you as your walls milk him. Jeongin stares wide eyed, vibrator dropping off to your side, as he watches you flood his friend’s pelvis and thighs. His own stomach caves as weak spurts of ejaculate dribble down to the bed.  Chan pulls from you and bundles you into a little ball on your side. Kissing your arms and legs as he instructs the rest of the boys in their clean up duties. You’d done enough, you didn’t need to worry about this, you never needed to worry about this part of the night. Chan made sure of that. Your tired limbs are lifted to a warm tub, eyes too weary to open. Many trusted hands hold you as they carefully wash the filth from you. Their touches are less distinct now as you lean into them. All warm, all sure, all caring. One or many, you couldn’t tell. Your boys, all of them.

ngl i blacked out and wrote this. i have not re-read. i’m sorry if its not coherent.

[decojellyfish]

New Friend!

Hi, this is my first post! So please be nice, and if you have any constructive criticism, please comment! I hope you like it :)

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Hybrid AU! TF141 Fancy Kitty! Reader x Rescue Dog! Ghost and Rescue Dog! Soap (Feat. a tiny bit of x Owner! Price) Reader acts fem but is only addressed with “you”

SFW ~ Fluff (Tiny bit of angst, if you squint) Warnings: Mentions of death (though, not directly)

───♡───────────── Beginning Your life was everything you could ask for. Always brushed, fed the finest cuisine a kitty could ask for, and wearing the finest items your owner got you. Your favorite was a collar that looked like a pearl necklace, similar to the one your owner wore daily. Your fur smelled like her too, vintage perfume (her favorite from when she was a teenager, though she always talked about how it was hard to come by now in the modern day), and those little strawberry bonbons she always kept in her purse. And you would always have a pretty pink bow tied around the base of your fluffy tail. Resting your head in her lap, her aged hands petting your white fluffy ears or brushing them with this one brush. A beautiful golden brush, with an ivory plaque on the back that had roses, tulips, and violets painted. It was her favorite from when she was a little girl. Life is good, life is paradise.

Until one day, she didn’t get out of bed. You were still curled up in your pink fluffy cat bed, waiting to hear her sweet voice call out your name whilst serving up your borderline gourmet breakfast. After about an hour, your confusion pushed you out of bed and made you go to your owner’s room. She was still sleeping? Maybe she had a rough time sleeping last night and just felt like sleeping in. Yeah, that was it! She was pretty old after all, why wouldn’t she want to sleep in once in a while? So you curled up atop the floral bedsheets, nice and close to your owner, and waited for her to wake up. You knew she would love to wake up to her pretty little kitty all snuggled up because you missed her so much! So you waited. And waited.

And waited.

A few days passed. Wow, this must’ve been the sleepiest old woman you’d have ever seen! She even had visitors and she didn’t even wake up. It was kind of strange though. They were crying as if they were watching one of those sad movies your owner would watch, with you curled up beside her. The day your world came crashing down would be the day these strange people came to your owner’s house. One of them guided you down to the kitchen, proceeding to feed you some random wet food they found on the counter. You hadn’t even realized how hungry you were while you were waiting for your owner to wake up. You hadn’t even noticed the other people carrying your owner’s body out of the house while this one person was playing with you. Jingling your favorite bell toy, calling you a “precious little kitty, so beautiful, yes you are!” the whole time.

That’s when he came into the picture. He came in an hour after these people arrived, it was John Price. Your owner’s son. He had come to visit her a few times, you enjoyed his presence when he was visiting. Price approached you and began to pet your silky, fluffy white hair and fur. “Hey there, pretty thing. How’ve you been holding up?” You didn’t know what he meant by that, but your purrs were all he needed to hear to not fret over you. He figured you were okay and ready to go with him. When he began to guide you out to his car, that was when you realized that he was taking you somewhere! He reassured you that your owner wouldn’t mind having you go on a little trip. You didn’t know you were headed to Price’s own house, all of your belongings in his trunk unbeknownst to you. You, in the present, wouldn’t be mad at Price for taking you home with him and becoming your new owner. No, you wouldn’t mind that at all, John Price was a lovely person! Like his mother. What made you pissed at him was the fact that he never mentioned the two dog hybrids he also had ownership of. That also lived in the house.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Price had told Ghost and Soap, his two rescue dogs, about the new arrival of a new addition to the family. That of which is a cat. Ghost wasn’t excited about the thought of a cat being in the house all day, every day. It annoyed him, he never really liked cats. Soap, on the other hand, was very excited to meet the new kitty. He had been waiting, impatiently, by the door ever since Price had gone off to retrieve the cat hybrid. Once Price had finally returned, Soap was ecstatic. He pounced on the first being that entered the doorway, licking their face all over. That first being was you. You screeched and hissed at the seemingly rabid dog that was coating you in slobber. He was mucking up your hair, too! Once Soap realized that it wasn’t Price, but, the new kitty that Price had brought home, he grew even more elated. Before he could continue any further with his slobber, Price had pulled Soap away from you, giving you time to breathe. Your tail was beyond fluffy now, you were terrified. Your claws were out and almost gripping the welcome mat by the front door. Soap was confused, Ghost’s guard was up, and Price knew in the back of his head that something like this would happen.

It took you a while to settle in, you were still frightened by the dogs and would try to maintain a distance from them. Ghost would happily oblige, avoiding you whenever you were around. Soap, not so much. He ruined his first impression meeting you! He scared you, and that is not what a good dog does. So, he spent all day and night all over you. He would tell you about his day, and ask you about yours, only for you to stay quiet, and then he would continue talking to you. Soap LOVED being around you. Why wouldn’t he? You’re such a pretty kitty, you smelled good, and your fur was so soft and silky! He loved pawing at the little bell attached to your pink ribbon collar. It was so cute! You looked like royalty with it. Ghost, on the other hand, would mumble about how uppity you seemed. Spoiled, bratty. I mean, at some points you did act like that. Whenever Price didn’t get the right food for you, whenever the sun wasn’t shining in the right spot for you to bask in it, or how loud and annoying the boys’ squeaky toys were. You and Ghost would often avoid each other. Whenever you would accidentally brush up against each other in the halls, it would result in you hissing and him growling loudly, baring his teeth. Price would have to step in and separate you two, telling you both to quit it. But back to Soap, who is an absolute lovebug when it comes to you. He would come by and curl up right next to you whenever you were curled up and lying in the sunlight. At first, you would get up and leave to a new spot. But eventually, you gave up and let him curl up as close to you as he wanted to. Through Soap’s constant yapping, you find out that both he and Ghost were survivors of illegal underground dog fighting. They were from different parts of the UK, but they both ended up at the same shelter. That’s how they met Price. Soap would point out all of his scars, telling their backstories, and talking about all the other injuries he went through. He would also compliment you, as well as attempt to pamper you. You had to give him instructions on how your owner used to do it.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It smelled of overwhelming masculinity in the house. It was such a drastic change from the old lady perfume and flowers that your old home smelled like. It took you a bit to get adjusted to the lack of floral prints that your new home had. One day, you were especially homesick. Even though you were in your new, permanent, home, you still missed your old home. It was foggy out that day, the weather not helping your mood at all. You were curled up on the couch as you looked out the window with sad eyes, your fluffy tail flicking around as you were deep in thought. You hadn’t even noticed Soap and Ghost staring at you, they could smell the sadness radiating off of you. It was a slightly pungent smell compared to your usual scent that smelled of fresh flowers. It made Soap whine and quickly approach you. He curled up close to you, trying to soothe you, bring you out of your sad thoughts, with his warmth. It did help, it brought you out of your deep thoughts. But you still smelled of sadness. You would curl up against him, letting out a tiny sigh.

Then Ghost curled up next to you.

That was a first. He had always avoided you, per your request. But you didn’t mind this sudden act of affection. It was nice, you got a better chance to identify the keynotes of his scent. With Soap being around you so much, you had no choice but the memorize what he smelled like. Musk, timber wood, vanilla, and tiny hints of coconut. Part of that was because of the shampoo that Price would wash him in during bath nights. You had always kind of known what Price smelled like, what with him visiting your old owner every so often. Dirt, but not in a dirty way, an earthy way, smokey, toffee, and sandalwood. Cozy. You eventually came around and stopped being so mad at him for not telling you about his dog hybrids. Especially since you started to like them now. Kind of. Ghost, he always kind of smelled smokey. But not like Price. Price smelled smokey in a round way. Ghost smelled smokey in a sharper way. Kind of a difference between cigars and pungent cigarettes. But now that he was sitting so close to you, to wipe that sad look off your face, you could get a more clear reading of his scent. Smokey, yet bitter, musk, cedar wood, and lavender. That also must have been because of the shampoo. But they must have two separate shampoos that they picked individually. You had your own that Price had brought from your old home. It smelled of cherry blossoms.

Fast forward a few minutes, now Soap is teaching Ghost how you like your hair brushed with your favorite brush. And you’re crying and venting about how much you miss your owner and your old home.

This caused Soap to have a lightbulb moment.

A few days later, you’re napping in your cat bed when you suddenly start to wake up to a familiar scent. Rose petals, peonies, orchids, and lotuses. Flowers. You wondered if you had suddenly returned back to her old home. You open your eyes. Nope, you’re still at Price’s. But the scent is coming from a little candle, in an ivory candle holder (a favorite of your old owner), sitting on the dining room table. Price noticed you as he finished serving breakfast for you and the boys. He explained that he “found it at the shop and thought you would like it.” Actually, Soap had begged him to find a way to cheer you up because it hurt him so badly to see you cry like that! Ghost was standing by Soap, not moving a single bit. But Price could see in his eyes that he was silently agreeing. He didn’t want to admit it, but he cared for the little cat hybrid. So Price had gone out and looked for his mother’s favorite candle. He knew the one. Now, back to the present, you’re looking at the candle with wide eyes. You’re looking at Price, then the boys, then the candle, then Price again. You feel your eyes start to sting. Tears abruptly well up in your eyes. All of the men are now worried. Did they mess up? Did Price pick the wrong candle? But he was sure of it! Soap quickly got up and hugged you tightly, asking why you were crying. Ghost even got up and walked over to you, just as worried but he wouldn’t show it. You eventually explain to them through tears and hiccups, that you love all they’ve done to make this new place feel like your old home. It makes you so happy that they want to see you happy and comfortable. They’re all relieved, Price gently wiping away your tears with a handkerchief his mother gifted to him when he first went into the military, petting your fluffy ears and stroking your cheek with his thumb.

These men all love you, they would do anything to not see you in pain. And you love them just as much, knowing that they would do anything to protect you. :3

───♡───────────── End

Again, if you have any constructive criticism, please comment below!

Thank you for reading :)

[chlorinecake]

Can you wright a Ni-ki fanfic where him and reader have a (just a regular) (or or maybe even slightly heated) make out sesh ???

“kissing, I hope they caught us” ┈ ❊ ﹒ 🌪️

⟢ pairing 西村力 x fem!reader ⟢ contains shy and flirty kissing, wandering hands, mentions of body image ⟢ 𝟔𝟗𝟖 words 📍 now playing … 🕸️

One day, you decided to go clothes shopping with your boyfriend Riki, trying on a few pieces for him in the mall dressing room to make sure you were on the right track. It’s not like you needed any new clothes… you simply just wanted your wardrobe to match more of what Riki wore.

“Turn around,” you told your boyfriend in a demanding yet sing-singy voice, cautiously taking off your shirt as you observed the way he buried his face in his delicate palms, “and no peeking!”

When you finally gave him the cue to uncover his eyes, he looked you up and down with a smile ghosting over his plush lips.

“What do you think?” You asked, striking a few basic poses.

He couldn’t help but blush a little at how cute you looked while checking yourself out in the mirror. You and Riki had came a long way with each other when it came to self confidence, and it delighted him to see how comfortable you’d grown with yourself in front of him.

“Can you come a little closer,” he said, motioning with his fingers as you followed like a trained kitten.

“Okay, now give me a spin…” he directed, and you did, nearly falling over as you did so, “like this?” you asked shyly.

“No, the other way, silly,” he giggled, hooking his finger into the belt hook of your jeans and pulling you into his lap, bracing you with a protective hand as you plopped onto him.

“Like this,” he smirked, gripping your waist as he looked into your eyes through feathery lashes, thoroughly enthralled by you.

Your hands almost naturally found themselves at his shoulders, your socked-feet dangling off the dressing room couch as you clung to each other like puzzle pieces.

“So the outfits a win, yes?” You asked as he caressed your waist, hips, and thighs, sending tingles up and down your spine. In moments like this, you were almost certain that Riki could make you physically melt from his touch alone.

“Hmm, let me think about it,” he whispered deeply against the skin under your ear, kissing you softly and leaving another trail of tender pecks down your neck.

“Riki~,” you hummed gently, hands running through your boyfriends hair before he shushed you with a kiss to the lips, guiding you closer towards him by your waist.

You could feel your stomach start to flutter at how passionately he kissed you, wanting the moment to continue before he abruptly pulled away from you, his plump lips and half-lidded eyes clearly telling of how intense the contact was.

“My pretty girl,” he said, hands now leaving your body to cup your face, “you know that I think you look beautiful in anything, right?”

“Anything?,” you teased, toying with the neckline of his cotton T-shirt.

“Anything,” your boyfriend continued, reaching his hand towards your ankles, “Even in these dirty pink socks,” he giggled, tickling the base of your feet.

“Riki, you crazy child, stop that!” You yelped in a similar fit of giggles, swatting his hands away before guiding them back around you, initiating a hug. You nuzzled into the crook of his neck, almost forgetting that you two were still in the changing rooms and not at home.

He guided you off of his lap, walking you towards the tall wall mirror with his hands wrapped around your waist, resting his chin on your left shoulder as you both faced your reflections.

“Where’d this sudden sense of confidence come from anyway,” you pressed, a small smile staining both your faces as you looked at the mirror, lost in each other’s beauty.

“I guess it kinda just radiated off of you,” he said, once again tugging at the belt hooks on your jeans, thinking of all the places he’d wanna take you to show off your new clothes.

You bowed your head, hiding your face at Riki’s words that nearly lit your heart ablaze, “Okay, let me change out of this so we can go to the register,” you chirped, watching as your sweet boyfriend, like a trained kitten, walked back to the corner of the dressing room and covered his eyes.

—❊ Special thanks to the anon who requesting this quick piece !! I hope you guys found it just as cute as I did =^..^=

—❊ tagging: @microwvdstrawb3rri3s , because I know how much she loves likes Ri-ki 🤭 And to me fellow OG supporters, @squoxle, @nikisdubblchococake, @ashgonedash, and @yourmomscuntis2tighy + @watamotee33

—❊ I haven’t come up with a permanent tag list yet, so leave an ask or comment letting me know if you’d like to be tagged in all my works moving forward !!

[flwrkid14]

I was reading the two posts about Tim's Christmas list, and just thought of the Bat Family noticing how happy Tim is.

Maybe Damian sees the new brushes and asks why Tim has Stephanie's things?

"Oh no, those aren't her's. They're mine. Danny got them for me cause they were on my list. I've needed a new set for a few years, but I only remember when I'm on a mission and needs to use them. Isn't he so sweet? And he got me really good quality ones, too!"

Or Jason mocking Tim for finally getting new hoodies. And instead of huffing or quipping back, Tim just brightens. Smiling in a way Jason's never seen.

"Danny got them for me! They're so soft. There's some of my favorite gifts from him! It's honestly nice to have new clothes that aren't formal. I'm so happy he read my list." And kinda just bounces away.

Maybe Bruce asking if Tim finally got new cups for his office?

"Danny's so sweet, isn't he? He found my list for Christmas and decided to get me a few mugs and thermoses. It's great I don't have to worry about accidentally cutting my mouth open again." 😊

Or Stephanie (who was injured on patrol and Tim's Nest, with apartment on top, was the closest place she could get to.) commenting on the fact that Tim has a lot of blankets, pillows, and plushies.

"Danny got them for me for Christmas I love how soft and warm everything is. He even found a plushie of a sleeping ghost! It's weighted, has a heating feature, and is made of glow in the dark fabric. Matter of fact, almost all the plushies and blankets he got me were weighted! Just like I had written on my list. They make me feel so loved. After all, he wants me to feel warm and safe, what's more considerate than that?"

Cass looks for Tim, knowing he's staying in the manor overnight because of a gala the next day. She hears music coming from the bathroom, but the light isn't on. So she goes in to turn it off, just in case Tim accidentally left it on. Only to see that there is a light on. A music box made to look like a record player spinning a vinyl, projecting blue light to look like you were underwater. Tim was in the bathtub, with the music box on the rim.

After the kerfuffle of them realizing Cass walked in on Tim taking a bath, and Tim getting dressed quickly, Cassandra asks him where he got it? It's cute and sounds really nice.

"Oh, it's a gift from Danny. He gave me it for Christmas. He knows I like cute things like that. And it's nice to listen to. He even got me this cat eared fluffy hairband for when I do my skincare or makeup! So cute, right?" 🥰

And slowly, all of them realize they never got Tim what he wanted. They try to justify it by saying he put tech on the list, but they look back through past lists and realize Tim changed his list because no one ever got him what he put on the list.

omg, I love your take on my posts! Your writing is so good! And you're absolutely right—the batfamily realizing their oversight and coming to terms with is such an interesting angle to explore! I like the way you went about it, especially all the times Tim kept mentioning the items were from his list!!

That said, I also wanted to address something that a lot of people were frustrated about when reading my original post.. many were upset with the family for not reading Tim’s list, wondering if they lost it or ignored it on purpose. I realize I didn’t provide enough context on my post for how the list actually functions!

The christmas lists in the batfamily aren’t necessarily meant to be followed to the letter—they’re more of a reference in case someone doesn’t know what to get. For example, Damian’s interests are pretty well known (art supplies, things for his animals, weapons), so most of the family can buy him something without needing to check his list. But for someone like Alfred or Bruce, where their preferences might be harder to pin down, the list serves as a guide.

With Tim, the family assumes they already know what he likes. They don’t think they need to check his list because, in their minds, they already understand him. So they keep giving him things they know he uses—cameras, electronics, hard drives—without realizing he already has more than enough. It’s not necessarily neglectful; it’s just a blind spot.

Danny, on the other hand, actually looks at the list. Not only because he wants to get Tim the best gifts possible, but because he lives with him. He sees what Tim already has in abundance and what he’s been meaning to get for himself but keeps putting off. That’s why his gifts are so thoughtful—he pays attention in a way the others don’t.

I hope this explanation helps clarify things for those who were confused or frustrated!!

[screamingforests]

Dog hybrid Soap x Cat hybrid Ghost x Rabbit(bunny) hybrid reader

Lil bit of angst, not anything serious

By time Soap and Ghost get together is when they finally meet you. You're a sweet little recruit, smarter than smart. You pick up new skills scarily fast - being a belgian hare.

They've claimed you when they first saw you, though you have no idea. Ghost makes sure you get easier missions, his way of protecting you. He also always makes sure one of the 141 will be with you on said mission. Soap trains you, though he trains most recruits, but he's far more attentive to you. He takes time to break down more bomb disarming methods and makes sure you have perfect form when fighting.

It really shouldn't have been a surprise when you got sent on your first dangerous mission. It was supposed to be easy, just an intel run. The danger was the fact that it was a bomb factory. You were chosen because of your very alert temperment, you would be able to hear any hostiles coming.

You weren't supposed to be in the main fight, being a recruit and all, you were supposed to be a guide. Someone to make sure they didn't run into any hostiles in the way.

But of course everything went wrong.

They only saw you being wheeled into medical, unconscious. There was blood all over you, yours and others. You had rushed into the fray to protect a teammate and caught a stray bullet.

Well, it ricocheted off of you and into the nearby storage of bombs.

Everyone just barely made it out. Everyone covered in burns.

In the end, they ended up visiting your room while you were asleep more than anyone did while you were awake. You were ok, mostly minor burns from someone else protecting you. A broken bone or two.

Ghost immediately goes into overdrive after you recover, putting in way more effort to make sure you don't get hurt like that again.

Soap puts in more time training you, being harsher with it. Can't you see they're just worried?

It isn't until they find you passed out on the couch in the rec room, the one for everyone, not the 141 one, that they take a moment. You were fast asleep, chin tucked against your chest and ears folded down out of the way.

You looked so small.

So, Ghost gently lifts you up into his arms as Soap gently rearranges your limbs into a more comfortable position. Ghost can't stop the soft purr that rumbles forth and it just makes you curl into him more.

Once they get you to your room, they take a moment. Soap tucked you in real tight, and Ghost makes sure you have everything you'll need for tomorrow(phone plugged in, shoes by the edge of your bed, clothes set out).

Sure, you'll wake up tomorrow, confused, but ironically, you'll miss the soft purr that goes by your door with footsteps.

[amyzworldds]

hi how are you? I would like to ask if you could write about svt x 14th member like she after an accident (for example) fell into a coma and came to her senses after some time and no one knew about it except for a few people and during the opening of the world tour she effectively appears on stage during the performance of her part and like this surprised the whole world? and the members themselves on stage

I hope I wrote everything clearly (I just used a translator)

Title: Shattered Roads

Masterlist | Part 2 | Part 3

Y/N’s solo debut prep silences Seventeen’s dorm, the boys clinging to her cardboard cutout—until a devastating car accident lands her in a coma. Torn between tour duties and despair, they rally for her recovery. Pairing: Seventeen x 14th member Genre: Fluff, Humor

Seventeen had been a ghost town without Y/N. She was still their wild 14th member, but lately, she’d been swallowed by her solo debut prep—a five-song album with one music videos, a whirlwind of late-night recording sessions and choreography plotting. She’d been gone from the dorm for months, only popping in past midnight, a blurry shadow crashing into her room before anyone could catch her. The last song was in the can, and tomorrow, she’d start filming her first MV. But at the dorm? Chaos was on life support without her.

The living room was a scene straight out of a melodrama. DK sat cross-legged beside Y/N’s life-sized cardboard standee—still sporting its smug photoshoot grin—clutching a tissue and fake-sobbing like he’d lost his soulmate. “Hyung, now I get it!” he wailed, throwing an arm around the cutout. “She got this thing so we wouldn’t miss her, but I miss her so much it hurts! Look at me, talking to cardboard like a loser!” Tears (mostly imaginary) streamed down his face as he hugged the standee, rocking back and forth.

Hoshi stumbled in, eyes red from his own fake crying, and dove onto DK, wrapping him in a bear hug. “She’s gone, DK! Gone forever!” he howled, shaking DK like they were in a tragic K-drama. “All we’ve got is this flat Y/N! She’s not even 3D anymore! I can’t hear her yelling at me for leaving my socks on the couch—or see her jumping around like a deranged opera star! I’m in withdrawal!” He flopped onto the floor, clutching DK’s leg, while the standee stared blankly at their meltdown.

The dorm had been too quiet without her chaos. No Y/N screeching, “Vernon, your dishes are a biohazard—clean them!” No off-key belting of random ballads while she spun around the kitchen like a tornado. No dragging Dino into tiktok trends at 3 am or forcing Seungkwan to play the villain in her unhinged mini-dramas (complete with bad wigs she’d ordered online). They’d only catch glimpses of her during group schedules—her laughing with staff, then vanishing—or hear her stumble in late, too tired to cause trouble. The silence was deafening, and they were losing it.

Woozi lounged on the couch, smirking like a smug cat who’d caught the canary. He’d been Y/N’s shadow through her album prep—co-writing, producing, guiding her every step. “You guys are pathetic,” he said, arms crossed, grin wicked. “Me? I’ve been with her the whole time. Heard every note, fixed every lyric. You’re crying over cardboard while I’m living the dream.”

Dino, sprawled nearby, rolled his eyes so hard they nearly fell out. “Oh, shut up, Woozi hyung!” he snapped, tossing a pillow at him. “You’re so smug, acting like you’re her bestie now! You’re the one who used to whine, ‘Y/N, stop singing off-key, my ears are bleeding!’ Hypocrite!”

“Yeah, well, I’m a hero now,” Woozi shot back, dodging the pillow. “She needs me. You’re just jealous you’re stuck with that—” he pointed at the standee—“thing!”

The members had turned the standee into a coping mechanism. Seungcheol had dragged it to the kitchen one night, plopping it at the table with a plate of ramen. “Eat up, Cardboard Y/N,” he’d muttered, half-delirious. “Maybe you’ll turn real and yell at me again.” Mingyu had caught Vernon talking to it—“So, uh, how’s your day?”—like it might answer. Hoshi even tried feeding it a chip, then cried when it didn’t crunch. They were a mess.

That night, past 1 am, Y/N finally dragged herself home, expecting a quiet dorm. Instead, she heard muffled wails from the living room. Peeking around the corner, she saw the full circus: DK and Hoshi on the floor, sobbing into each other’s arms, Seungkwan fake-weeping into a cushion—“She’s never coming back!”—and Joshua muttering to the standee, “Tell her we’re sorry for… uh, whatever we did!” Woozi smirked from the couch, while Dino glared, plotting his next pillow attack.

Y/N’s tired face split into a grin. She tiptoed in, then burst into the room like a sunbeam on steroids, throwing her arms wide. “Surprise, losers! Your sunshine is back!” She strutted to her standee, slapped a hand on its shoulder, and beamed. “See? I told you you’d miss me! This is why I got this baby—to keep you sane! Should I order 13 more? One for each of your rooms? Imagine waking up to my face every day!”

The room went dead silent. Thirteen pairs of eyes stared at her, mid-sob, mid-smirk, mid-pillow-throw. Then, like a switch flipped, they snapped into denial mode.

Hoshi scrambled up, wiping his fake tears. “Who said we missed you?!” he barked, voice cracking. “We were just… uh… practicing for a drama audition! Right, DK?”

“Yeah!” DK yelped, jumping to his feet and brushing off his shirt. “Totally acting! Oscar-worthy stuff! We didn’t miss your yelling or anything!”

Mingyu crossed his arms, sniffing. “Pfft, you think we care? I love the quiet! No one nagging me about dishes—it’s a dream!”

Seungkwan flipped his hair, scoffing. “Exactly! I’ve been sleeping great without you blasting tiktok at 3 am!”

“And I don’t miss your bad singing!” Dino added, glaring, though his lip wobbled. “Not one bit!”

Woozi just shrugged, still smug. “I saw her yesterday, so I’m fine. You guys are the dramatic ones.”

Y/N smirked, hands on her hips, watching them flail. “Oh, really? So, you weren’t just sobbing into my cardboard self like it’s your last lifeline? Dokyeom oppa, your tears are still wet! Hoshi oppa, you’re hugging it right now!”

Hoshi yelped, realizing he’d instinctively grabbed the standee mid-denial, and dropped it like it was on fire. “No, I wasn’t! It hugged me first!”

“It’s cardboard, you idiot!” Seungkwan shouted, smacking his arm.

DK pointed at her, desperate. “We were just… uh… testing its sturdiness! Yeah! Quality control!”

“Sure, and I’m the queen of silence,” Y/N fired back, cackling so hard she nearly fell over. “You guys are terrible liars! Admit it—you missed me so bad you’re talking to a flat version of me!”

“Never!” Mingyu roared, stomping his foot, only to trip over a sock he’d left on the floor—ironic perfection. “Ow! Okay, maybe a little!”

The room erupted—Y/N laughing her head off, the members shouting denials over each other, and the standee toppling onto Hoshi, who screamed, “It’s alive! She’s back to haunt us!” Seungcheol groaned, “I need a vacation,” while Woozi smirked, “Told you she’d win.”

Y/N wiped tears of laughter, grinning like a victorious gremlin. “You’re all stuck with me—and maybe 13 more standees! Night, losers!” She strutted to her room, leaving them in chaos, still yelling over each other about how they “totally didn’t miss her” while secretly plotting to steal the standee back.

--------------------------------------------------------------

The sun hadn’t even peeked over the horizon, but Y/N was already up, bleary-eyed and shuffling around the dorm kitchen like a zombie in tiger slippers. Her phone buzzed nonstop on the counter—Manager Kim, blowing up her line with calls and texts: “Y/N, wake up! MV shoot prep starts now!” She groaned, rubbing her eyes, and grabbed a box of cereal, muttering, “Can’t a girl eat in peace?” The rest of Seventeen was still lost in dreamland, snoring through the chaos of her solo debut prep. Five songs, one music videos—she’d been a ghost for months, and today was the big day: filming her first MV.

Seungcheol, the ever-reliable leader, stumbled in, hair a mess but eyes sharp. He spotted Y/N fumbling with the cereal box—half the puffs spilling onto the counter—and ruffled her hair with a sleepy grin. “Morning, troublemaker. You’re up early for once.”

“Blame Managernim,” Y/N grumbled, yawning. “He’s been calling since 4 am I’m basically a corpse right now, Cheol oppa.”

“A corpse who’s about to slay her MV shoot,” he teased, nudging her aside. “Move, I’ll handle this. You’ll starve before you get there.” He poured the cereal, added milk without drowning it (a skill Y/N never mastered), and then pulled out a little bento box from the fridge. “Here—kimbap. The boys made it last night while you were passed out. Figured you’d need fuel.”

Y/N blinked at the neatly packed rolls, seaweed glistening with sesame oil. “You guys made this? For me? When did you even have time?!”

“After you crashed at, like, 2 am,” Seungcheol said, smirking. “Hoshi almost set the kitchen on fire, and Mingyu cried when he cut the carrots wonky, but we pulled it off. Don’t tell them I told you—it’s supposed to be a ‘cool oppa’ surprise.”

“Too late, I’m telling everyone,” Y/N snickered, grabbing a spoon. “This is blackmail material. Hoshi oppa with a fire extinguisher? Gold.”

Seungcheol rolled his eyes but followed her outside, coffee mug in hand, to wait for the manager’s van. The sky was still dark, the air chilly, and Y/N yawned into her hoodie sleeve. When the van pulled up, Seungcheol pulled her into a bear hug. “Good luck, kid. Knock ‘em dead today—we’re proud of you. We’ll swing by later, so don’t slack off.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Y/N mumbled, half-asleep, giving a floppy wave as she climbed in. “See you, Cheol oppa.” She conked out against the window before the van even hit the main road.

--------------------------------------------------------------

At the filming location, Y/N sat in the makeup chair, still groggy as the artists dabbed foundation on her face. She clutched her kimbap box like a treasure, suddenly perking up. “Look at this!” she chirped, holding it up to the makeup noona. “My oppas made me kimbap! Handmade! They’re total disasters in the kitchen, but they did it for me! Isn’t that cute?!”

The noona laughed, brushing blush on her cheeks. “That’s adorable! You’ve got 13 big brothers wrapped around your finger.”

“More like 13 clowns,” Y/N grinned, snapping a quick pic of the kimbap—perfectly imperfect rolls with a sticky note that said “Don’t mess up, maknae!” in Seungkwan’s scrawl. She posted it to Weverse with the caption: “Oppas made me food so I don’t die on set. Hoshi-oppa almost burned the dorm down. Send help.” Carats lost it in the comments: “HOSHI WITH A FIRE EXTINGUISHER?? VIDEO OR IT DIDN’T HAPPEN!”

The shoot was a marathon—hours of dancing, posing, and pretending she wasn’t about to collapse. Halfway through a dramatic scene—Y/N mid-spin in a sparkly outfit—the studio doors creaked open. She didn’t notice, too focused on not tripping over her own feet. But behind a stack of props, 13 chaos gremlins lurked, armed with balloons, a bouquet of flowers bigger than Dino’s head, and a lopsided cake with “CONGRATS Y/N, OUR SOLO STAR!” iced in wobbly letters. Vernon held a camera, filming for future content or some future blackmail reel, whispering, “This is gonna be epic.”

The director yelled, “Cut!” and Y/N slumped, panting. “Finally! Can I sit now? My legs are noodles!” Before anyone could answer, the members exploded from their hiding spot like a pack of feral cheerleaders.

“SURPRISE, Y/N-IE!” Hoshi bellowed, leading the charge, balloons bouncing everywhere. He tripped over a cable, nearly face-planting, but recovered with a tiger roar.

DK sprinted in, waving the bouquet like a madman. “OUR MAKNAE’S A SOLO QUEEN! WE BROUGHT FLOWERS!” He shoved them at her, petals flying into her face.

Mingyu held the cake aloft, grinning. “AND CAKE! I DIDN’T BURN IT THIS TIME—WELL, ALMOST, BUT IT’S FINE!”

Y/N yelped as they swarmed her, 13 bodies crashing into a group hug that nearly knocked her over. “WHAT IS HAPPENING?! GUYS, I’M SWEATY—GET OFF!” she screeched, flailing, but her grin betrayed her.

Seungcheol laughed, ruffling her hair again. “We told you we’d come! You think we’d miss your big day? Congrats, kid!”

Woozi smirked, arms crossed. “Yeah, I helped write the songs, but these clowns insisted on this circus. You’re welcome.”

“Shut up, Woozi-hyung!” Dino snapped, shoving him. “You’re not the only hero here! We all forced her to do this solo thing—she kept writing songs and hiding them, so we bullied her into it!”

“Bullied?!” Y/N gasped, swatting him. “You mean you whined, ‘Y/N-ah, you have to debut solo, we already did!’ until I gave in! I was fine being the group chaos agent!”

“And now you’re a chaos star!” Joshua chimed in, handing her a balloon. “We’re proud—also, we miss you yelling at us, so this is selfish too.”

Seungkwan started belting a made-up congratulatory song—“Oh, Y/N, our shining maknae, you dance so great, don’t be late, solo queen supreme!”—and the others joined, off-key and ridiculous. Hoshi added a tiger growl mid-verse, DK harmonized into a screech, and Vernon accidentally popped a balloon, yelping, “MY BAD!” The crew cracked up, filming the madness.

Y/N doubled over, laughing so hard she nearly dropped the cake Mingyu thrust into her hands. “You guys are insane! Balloons? Flowers? This cake looks like it’s melting—did Hoshi-oppa sneeze on it?!”

“I DID NOT!” Hoshi protested, lunging at her. “I ONLY LICKED IT ONCE—KIDDING, KIDDING!”

“You’re disgusting!” she shrieked, shoving him off as the others piled on again, hugging and chanting, “Y/N! Y/N! SOLO STAR!”

Vernon zoomed in with the camera, narrating, “Day 1 of Y/N’s MV shoot: the hyungs lose their minds. Hoshi’s a hazard, Mingyu’s cake’s a crime scene, and Seungkwan’s singing needs a mute button. Cut!”

Manager Kim, watching from the sidelines, cackled. “This is why I love managing you idiots—never a dull moment.”

Y/N wiped laugh-tears, clutching her kimbap box from earlier. “You guys are the worst—and the best. Thanks for this… and the kimbap. I’m not crying, it’s just glitter in my eyes!”

“Sure it is,” Jeonghan teased, pinching her cheek. “Now eat that cake before Mingyu sits on it.”

“I WOULD NOT!” Mingyu roared, only to trip over a balloon string, sending the cake wobbling. “OKAY, MAYBE I WOULD—SAVE IT!”

The shoot wrapped with the members cheering her on, stuffing her with cake, and promising to crash her next filming day too. Y/N grinned, surrounded by her chaotic family, knowing her solo debut was theirs as much as hers—forced or not.

[sxcret-garden]

Jongho ღ Build You Up [M]

ღ Ateez Jongho x fem-bodied!reader ღ feat.: best friend!San, Wooyoung, Hongjoong ღ words: ~23k ღ genre & warnings: fluff (a lot of it, actually), some humor, a bit of angst (unhappy past relationships for both of them and the consequences, why do I like sadness), slowburn, smut (sub!Jongho, dom!reader, detailed warnings under the cut); brief discussion of (over)weight (it’s about a cat tho), alcohol consumption ღ reader: has a vagina, no other descriptions of reader’s anatomy, no pronouns used to refer to reader

Desc.: It hasn’t been long since you and Jongho have started seeing each other, when it begins to look like your originally purely sexual relationship is turning into something much broader. After you initially make it very clear that you aren’t ready for a new relationship after a painful breakup, you can’t help but wonder if Jongho would be the one who can finally help you heal, and at the same time you too are set on helping him with his own troubles, getting him to let go of control around you more and more easily. This is the sequel to my fic Break You Down - it can also be read as a standalone work, but probably makes more sense if you’ve read the original fic too~

ღ smut warnings: off-screen kink-negotiation, a hint of dumbification, subspace, lots of praise, some teasing, some begging, some humiliation, biting, oral & fingering (reader receiving), reader sitting on his face, (kinda) guided masturbation & cum eating (idol), restraints (handcuffs & rope, idol receiving), blindfold (idol), handjobs, edging, orgasm control, overstimulation as a punishment (and also just for fun tbh), traffic light system (only “green” is used), reader has a bit of a dom drop at one point, temperature play, a bit of finger sucking, unprotected sex, anal (fingering & with a strap, idol receiving), dacryphilia, they have pretty sweet and vanilla sex once, multiple orgasms

“Did so well for me…” you breathe the words into his ear as he’s about to collapse on top of you, burying his face in the crook of your neck and you let your lips brush against his earlobe. Your hand is up in his hair, gripping the dark brown locks to guide him into a position where you could comfortably wrap your arms around his broad figure, feeling the way his hot skin presses against yours and how his chest is rising and sinking in tune with your own, both catching your breaths. 

You lean your back against the headrest of your bed, with a pillow in between, and you wait for him to come down from the euphoric high you’ve swept him up in. Granted, it wasn’t your effort alone, and you wonder if words would be enough to convey to him what you’re feeling deep in your chest right in this moment.

“Such a good boy, letting me take care of you like that…” you mutter, and you notice a shade of pink dusted onto his cheeks as he looks up at you with big round eyes. He seems so much softer now - his features, his gaze, and the sound of his voice too, when he hums an elongated “mhmmm” at your praise. Eyelids drooping, he sinks down to a lying position eventually, with his head in your lap, and as he closes his eyes fully while you’re still playing with his hair, you think he’s dozing off, until his warm voice fills the room again.

“Say…” Jongho looks up at you, parted lips swollen from how hard you had kissed him just earlier, and you have to resist the urge to lean in and pepper little pecks all over his features. 

“What is it?” you ask, unable to stop yourself from grinning like a fool at how cute he looks, all fucked out, laying in your lap like that.

“Mmmm.” Lips pursed, his eyes dart to the side as he’s trying hard to come up with a coherent sentence. You find yourself chuckling, finding it amusing how this usually so eloquent man is struggling to form words now.

“It’s okay,” you speak soothingly, fingertips ghosting over his mouth and grazing his plush lips. “You don’t have to say anything right now if it’s too hard.” However, Jongho frowns at what was supposed to be a comfort to him.

“No, just… been thinking…” he slurs.

“About what?”

“Just… if maybe… we could meet up sometime?” Another short laugh escapes you.

“You mean, outside of having sex?” you guess, and he gives you a nod. “Hmm…” You ponder on the question for a while, and as you do, you feel resistance in your heart. Truth be told, you’ve been afraid one of your partners would bring up something like this sooner or later, though you do your best to keep things lowkey and not make any advances that aren’t of a purely sexual nature on anyone. And yet there is also a spark of curiousity lighting up within you. The little bits of his usual personality you get to see before and during the start of a scene can’t be more than a fraction of what he’s really like during his everyday life, and you can’t say you haven’t caught yourself wondering about who he might be outside of when you have sex with him.

“Don’t want to?” he asks, and you know he is trying his hardest not to sound sad, but the pout that involuntarily appears on his lips does nothing in helping him hide his true feelings.

“It’s not that…” you answer, soothingly caressing his face as you brush a strand of hair away and attempt to tuck it behind his ear, already knowing prior that it’s too short for that anyway. He raises his eyebrows as if prompting you to continue speaking. “Just…” You look around the room, wondering if you should let the doubt on your mind win or not, and eventually you figure that it’d probably be just fine.

“Alright,” you decide, finally, and you find a spark in his eyes upon hearing your answer. “Any plans on what to do?” Jongho makes a noise, opening and closing his mouth like a fish in water, and you smile at the way his mind has gone blank again, stroking his hair a few more times. “Maybe we’ll discuss that later, then?” you propose, and you see the tension leaving his shoulders. “No need to overexert that pretty little head of yours,” you tease, and you earn yourself a pouty frown, reacting immediately by giving him some more scalp scratches meant to appease him.

Thursday afternoon. You’re looking your reflection in the shop window in front of you up and down, adjusting the way the fabric of the simple but elegant blouse wraps itself around your shoulders to look as neat as possible. Its color an antique pink, with flowers cross-stitched onto the ends of the sleeves, you don’t get a whole lot of chances to wear this type of clothing anymore nowadays, so you made sure to pick out your outfit thoughtfully. Maybe a little too thoughtfully, as you’ve tried on all kinds of possible combinations a day prior, in an attempt to choose the most perfect one out of all of them. In the end you settled for something comfortable and in some way nostalgic, remembering the last time you wore this particular top having been at a friend’s graduation party. Paired with some dark grey dress pants and classy shoes with just a tiny heel, you think you match the definition of “elegant, but not over the top” - which is the only thing besides the time and meeting place that Jongho had told you about today. Judging from the fact that it’s almost 6pm you assume his plan is to take you out for dinner, plus the address he had sent you is in the middle of an area known for its fancy restaurants, and when he finally comes into sight as he’s turning a corner a couple of meters away from you, he’s about to confirm your assumptions.

“Hi,” he greets you with a tired but warm smile, and you return the greeting.

“Hi. How have you been?” He looks away as if he had hoped you wouldn’t ask him this very standard question meant to open up a conversation, yet here you are. “Sorry, should I not ask?” you figure, and he shows you a gesture of his hand to wave it off.

“Ah, no, it’s fine,” he says. “Today wasn’t so bad. I had a meeting until…” he checks his wristwatch, and you notice how expensive it looks, “half an hour ago, that’s why I’m a little late. I’m really sorry about that.”

“It’s alright, you let me know on time so it’s fine,” you assure him.

“But aside from that it wasn’t too busy today. Thankfully,” he says. “My father is away on a business trip so… can’t terrorize the whole company for a few days. But let’s get going, shall we?” Stopping himself from rambling, he holds out his hand to you for you to hook your arm through his, and you start walking. “How was your day?” he then asks back, having calmed himself down a little. You wonder for a moment if you’re right in your observation that he seems unusually open today, at least compared to what he was like when you had only just met him, but then again you figure it’s only natural to be comfortable opening up to a person who’s already broken down so many walls within you, no?

“It was good. I had a day off, actually, so I finally got to run some errands I’ve been putting off,” you explain briefly, as he’s taking the lead on the way to your destination. And maybe he’s noticed your dopey smile about it, because upon looking at you, he asks,

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” you lie at first, giving him big, innocent eyes, but the suspicion in his expression tells you he’s probably already figured it out anyway, so you might as well give him the answer yourself. “I was just thinking that this is the first time you’re guiding me.”

“Oh… you’re right,” he says, coming to a halt with you in front of a crossing.

“It feels…”

“Weird?” he laughs.

“Different,” you say with a smile. “Not bad.”

“I see?” he says, visibly intrigued, and as the pedestrian lights switch to green, he walks you across the street. 

“Don’t get any ideas,” you then say, and wordlessly, he shows you a toothy smile - you’re sure he knows what you were implying.

You arrive at the restaurant on the 15th floor of a huge building, having one of the servers show you your table right by the window with a vast view of the surrounding city. The sun is slowly beginning to set when you finish choosing your meals, and you’re served some sweet sparkling wine as an aperitif. 

“Cheers,” he raises his glass and you do the same.

“Cheers.” You both take a sip, and as you set down your glasses, he says, earnestly,

“You look good by the way.”

“So do you.” You shoot him a smile, reckoning that a well fitted, classic suit really does everything to make him look even more handsome. Even when it’s apparent that work is taking its toll on him, a part of him is glowing in that business attire - almost creating the illusion that a high ranking corporate job must be where he belongs most.

As the courses are served to you one by one, beautifully plated, each accompanied with wines from all over the world, which, according to your waiter, have been carefully chosen to perfectly round up the respective dishes they come with. You find yourself having fun like this, chatting with Jongho while having a fine meal, and the atmosphere of the restaurant only makes the evening feel more special. 

“You know,” you say, “it’s been a long time since I’ve gone out for dinner like this. Dressing up and having good wine and all that.” You swirl the drink around in your glass, watching as a layer of deep red slowly drips back down along the walls. “So, thanks for taking me out here,” you conclude, shooting him a smile across the table, and he reciprocates, before looking away with a hint of shyness on his face.

“So you’re enjoying yourself?” he asks after clearing his throat.

“Yes.”

“I’m glad I chose the right thing to do then,” he says, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Why?” you chuckle. “Were you scared I wouldn’t like it here?”

“I just… wasn’t sure if you’re the type for fancy dinners with wine and candle light and all that,” he says, and your eyes flick over to the candle burning at the edge of your table.

“Wouldn’t everyone enjoy this kind of thing every once in a while?” you wonder out loud, and the man in front of you agrees. “I also don’t get to dress up like this a whole lot,” you continue. “So, that was nice for the first time in a while too.”

“You really do look beautiful today,” he says, giving you a soft smile as he tilts his head to the side a little, and you can’t help but find the image in front of you cute.

“Thank you,” you say, reaching for the stem of your wine glass once again to busy your hands. “I also can’t remember when the last time was that I’ve heard that…” you add, keeping your voice low now. “Even though there was a person I would’ve wanted to hear it from more often.” Jongho raises his eyebrows, indicating he wants you to keep going. “Just…” you hesitate. Should you really mention your ex here?

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it,” he says quickly, upon noticing you’re indecisive. 

“Right… sorry,” you apologize, taking a quick sip of your beverage.

“It’s alright,” he says, and before the silence between you can get too awkward, he changes the topic. “But… I’ve told you so much about my job since we started talking. I’ve been wondering what you do?”

“Oh. I work with animals,” you explain. “I’m a physiotherapist for animals like… cats, dogs. Mostly those two, but sometimes people also bring in other pets, and we take care of those as well.” 

“Oh,” he gasps, surprise written all over his face.

“What did you think I’d be doing?” you ask, grinning.

“Hm… I don’t know. I was expecting some boring office job, like me,” Jongho admits, and now you let out a short laugh.

“Yeah, no thanks,” you say. “I did study business, actually. But after a year I realized it’s not for me. I wanted to do something to help, you know? Something that’s actually fulfilling.”

“What, filling out excel sheets and handing in reports to your superiour all day doesn’t sound fulfilling to you…?” he questions, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Right, that’s totally the best job in the world…” you say, smiling and rolling your eyes.

“So…” he returns to the original topic, after taking a bite of his food, “you must like animals?”

“Yes,” you answer, smiling to yourself. “I have a cat at the moment too.”

“Right, I did think I heard a meow last time I was with you,” Jongho says.

“Yeah, my Meatball is very shy though, so it wouldn’t be a surprise if you hadn’t noticed he’s there at all.”

“Your meatball?” he repeats, and though you’re sure he understands it’s the cat’s name, he’s still chuckling at the sound of it - and maybe the mental image too. 

“Ah, yeah…” Now you laugh as well, having gotten so used to the name that time and time again you forget it might make other people scratch their heads. “He’s a rescue,” you explain. “Was severely overweight when I got him from the shelter, that’s why they called him that. His previous owners must’ve overfed him… thankfully he’s at a healthy weight now.”

“Ahh, now it makes sense.”

“Yeah. But,” you chuckle, “you still gotta be careful and not leave anything edible out on the table or something. He steals everything if given the chance.”

Dessert is finally served, a variation of chocolates accompanied by some fruit parfait, and it’s just as delicious as everything you’ve been served thus far. 

“This is so good…” you mumble, completely indulged in the food in front of you.

“Right? I really like that they don’t make their desserts too sweet,” Jongho comments.

“Yeah. Maybe I should let my subs take me out for dinner more often at this rate,” you joke, but the guy sitting opposite you doesn’t give you the expected light-hearted reaction.

“You’re seeing other people as well?” he reckons, trying hard to keep his facial expression neutral, but you can tell he must’ve been thinking he’s the only one.

“Yeah, at the moment,” you explain, and you find yourself monitoring him closely for any signs of upset. “I have two other people I sometimes do scenes with nowadays.”

“Right, that makes sense.”

“But what about you?” you try to divert the conversation elsewhere as you notice some tension leaving his shoulders.

“Me?”

“Are you seeing people? Dating anyone?”

“Ah, no,” he answers, and when a smile returns to his lips you too find yourself relaxing. “Aside from you, anyway. It’s… been a while since my last relationship too.”

“Oh?”

“Well, that was… a bit of a complicated situation.”

“You don’t have to tell me about it if you don’t want to,” you repeat what he had told you earlier, but he shakes his head.

“It’s not that,” Jongho says, “I just don’t want to… kill the mood I suppose?” His gums show as he gives you an apologetic smile.

“Don’t worry about that,” you assure him, and so he leans back in his chair, looking around the room as he mutters,

“Where do I even start?”

“That bad?”

“I mean… I had a girlfriend a while back. A couple of years, no… four? Almost four years. Basically our parents set us up, hoping we would get married. You know, two wealthy families, it was about business to them. And our image of course.”

“Right,” you say.

“It’s not that we didn’t get along at all or anything, or that we weren’t attracted to each other. It’s just… after the honeymoon phase, we didn’t really know what to do with each other.”

“So you didn’t match,” you guess, and he nods.

“Yeah. I tried to make things work, to win her over, you know… rekindle the flame I suppose?” He laughs, and you think you can see a hint of bitterness hiding in the corners of his smile. “So I put in an effort.”

“...and?” you ask, expecting this story to take a bad turn quite soon.

“She was seeing other guys.” Jongho doesn’t look at you as he speaks those words, instead staring off into the distance, head turned towards the general direction of the window to his left. 

“You’re still hurt over that, huh?” you dare to say what’s on your mind, and without wavering, he responds,

“Yeah.”

“That sucks…” you look down at your plate, where there’s some remainder of the chocolate cream smeared across the white porcelain, and you drag the tips of your fork across them. 

“It’s how it is,” he says, sighing, and returning his gaze to you. “I’ve been focusing on my studies and then on work ever since, so I didn’t really have the time to date anyone else.” He thinks for a moment, before he adds, “Maybe I’ve been busying myself so much because it would mean I wouldn’t have time for that.” You begin to understand a little more why he seemed hesitant to ask for a meeting between you two after you started chatting online, or why he’s struggling so hard to let go of control, even in situations where he desperately wants to. And somehow now your determination to help him with that as best you can is growing some more, and before you can think, you find yourself reaching out across the table, your hand covering his. You don’t say anything, really, a smile that’s supposed to tell him you sympathize is all you can give here. And it’s not like you don’t get him - your last relationship didn’t exactly go great either, and maybe in that pain of being betrayed by someone you trusted, someone you had committed to, there might be a chance for you two to build yet another connection.

You say goodbye outside on the street, in front of the building where you were dining. Jongho had insisted on paying for the both of you, even after you had assured him you didn’t mind splitting the bill. So you make sure to thank him again, to which he shows you that toothy smile you’re starting to find strangely reassuring, and you find your heart warmed.

“We’ll see each other next week?” you say, finding an expression in his eyes that makes you think he doesn’t want you to leave yet. And still, he nods.

“Yes. Until then.” You wave each other goodbye, and when you turn on your heels to walk to the bus station to get home, you too feel a distant pull on your heart, begging you to stay with him for just a while longer.

“You seemed a little out of focus today.” San states the obvious as you undo the rope you had meticulously tied around this wrists. He gives you a smile while he stares up at you, warmth in his gaze, but you also make out some curiousity shining through.

“I’m really sorry…” you say once he’s freed from his restraints, and he lets his hands sink into his lap, sitting up on your bed with his lower back propped up against the headrest. It was a short session - you kept it like that on purpose, having known from the start that your concentration would give up on you sooner rather than later today, and you honestly feel sorry for him. He doesn’t even look as tired out as usually when you’re done with him, and San seems to sense that something’s weighing you down, because next thing you know after putting the rope aside is that he’s pulling you into his embrace, letting you rest your head against his bare chest. 

“Shouldn’t this be my job…” you mumble, even though you allow for your eyelids to close and your mind to rest for a while.

“Shh,” San shushes you. “Doms need reassurance too. Plus, I can take care of a friend, can’t I?” 

You and San have known each other since forever - high school, to be exact, where you ended up in the same class and somehow formed an alliance to get together for study sessions and to tackle exams together. You’ve stayed in touch ever since, and hooked up a couple of times, until it was him who introduced you to the world of BDSM, and you immediately found yourself in your element. Even now you get together to have sex sometimes, and to satisfy the sub in him from time to time.

“How’s Woo doing?” you ask, letting him cradle you in his embrace for now.

“Don’t try to change the topic,” San scolds you in the softest tone. 

“I really want to know!” you insist, and it wouldn’t be San if he could keep up his strict demeanor for more than a hot second when it comes to you.

“He’s doing fine. Bratty as ever.” You both laugh. “But I’ve got him tamed.”

“That’s my boy,” you chuckle, patting his thigh a few times.

“So? What’s on your mind, Y/N?” You let out an existential sigh. Choi Jongho, obviously. The thought pops up in your mind without permission, and you wonder if you should really keep fighting it so hard - and then you ask yourself why you’re fighting it in the first place.

“It’s just…” you talk eventually, but stop to ponder on your words some more. And then you peel yourself out of San’s hold, and you sit cross legged opposite him, with him mirroring your position. His smile dripping with warmth, he gives you the most sympathetic eyes known to mankind, and you curse him for it out loud.

“Why do you have to be so goddamn trustworthy and empathetic all the time?”

“What?” San laughs, the dimples on his cheeks almost as deep as the confusion in his gaze.

“I just… I met someone, I guess…” you admit.

“Oh?” He raises his eyebrows in interest.

“The CEO son… I told you about him.” And now San leans back, arms raised in a stretch before he crosses them behind his head.

“Well this is getting interesting…”

“... Jongho… is his name.”

“Hmm?”

“Stop acting like this!” you yell out of embarrassment.

“Like what? I’m just curious!” San shrugs like he had done nothing wrong.

“Just… I’m not ready for a new relationship yet…” San’s expression becomes serious again as he pieces together the bits of information you give him in an attempt to see the bigger picture, and you continue, “I guess that’s why this feels so conflicting. I like him, don’t get me wrong, but he took me out to dinner this week, and I think he more than just likes me.”

“You went on a date?” Surprise echoes in your friend’s words.

“It wasn’t a date. We just went out together.”

“That sounds like a date to me…”

“It wasn’t-... well maybe it was.” You pause, staring at the bedsheets underneath you. “I wish it wasn’t.”

“Come here,” San spreads his arms, beckoning you to come closer, and you let him engulf you in yet another warm hug. “If you’re not ready for another relationship after what happened, you can simply tell him that, can’t you?” It’s such an obvious piece of advice, and yet it seems to have so much more weight, now, that you’re hearing it from one of your oldest friends, and not just as a constantly recurring thought in your head.

“Right.”

“Do you think he might react badly?” You think about it for a while. It’s not like you know Jongho well enough to have gained a deep understanding of how he works in situations like these, but your gut feeling tells you he’ll at least be reasonable about it.

“Probably not,” you say finally.

“You’ll be fine,” San encourages you, and he lets you rest against his strong figure for a while. “But now I’m curious…” he continues eventually. 

“Hm?”

“How is he?” He shoots you a smirk, and immediately several memories from the times you’ve been with Jongho so far flash by your inner eye.

“... haven’t had someone like him in a while. Actually, I haven’t had someone like him at all. A tough nut to crack.” You shoot San a knowing look. “But so worth it.”

“Hmm? Well, I’m glad you’re having your fun with him.”

“Yeah… it’s fun,” you say, and you can’t help but think of all the other things having sex with him is.

“I’m going to miss you,” San then says, without adding too much weight to the words - probably in an attempt not to burden you, but they hit you where it hurts anyway.

“What are you saying?”

“Well, we know you don’t do things like me and Wooyoung. When you’re dating someone, you’re dating just them.”

“Did you listen to any of what I just said?” You turn around to shoot San a look full of offense, and you’re met with a broad, playful smile from his side.

“Well, I feel like it’s only a matter of time with this one…”

“Choi San!” You call out his full name, only adding to his amusement. “Did you listen. To anything. I just said?”

“I did, I did, I’m sorry.” Your friend’s features soften as he falls forward to rest his chin atop your shoulder. You can’t tell if he was joking or not, if he was teasing you or if he really thinks there’s a chance being with Jongho would mend your heart enough for you to be ready to trust again. To fall in love again. And you know there’s currently nobody in your life who knows you better than San does. And yet, you can’t be mad at him.

“It’s okay, Y/N,” your friend speaks up, reaching out to put his hand over yours, thumb rubbing a few soothing circles onto your skin. “Take your time.”

“So that gave me a few sleepless nights, but fortunately we got the deal… oh, is that Meatball?” You turn your head into the general direction of where Jongho is looking, and find your cat’s pitch black fur blending into the shadows at the foot of one of the shelves in your living room.

“Ah, yes,” you say, and you smile at the small creature. “My grumpy old boy.” His yellow eyes are intently watching you and your visitor where you’re sitting across each other at your dinner table, and after a while of observing the both of you, he decides it’s time to venture closer. Stretching his body thoroughly as he gets up, he slowly walks a little closer, and then sits down halfway to watch Jongho with curiousity. 

“Do you like cats?” you ask as Meatball proceeds to clean his hind legs. 

“They’re quiet,” Jongho responds, not taking his eyes off your pet.

“I see,” you say, chuckling, and then you observe as Meatball comes yet a little closer, and you’re surprised to see him hop up onto Jongho’s lap, who seems flustered by the cat’s action. “I think he likes you,” you comment, and you find it amusing how the guy in front of you doesn’t seem too sure of what to do with Meatball rolling up in his lap, fully intent on taking a nap by the looks of it. However, he relaxes eventually.

“Can I pet him?”

“You can try,” you say. “If he doesn’t like it he’ll get up and leave.”

“Ah… so he doesn’t bite or anything?” Jongho asks, his palm finding the pitch black fur and Meatball doesn’t react as he strokes him from head to tail a few times.

“He does,” you say, pulling up the sleeve on your left arm and showing him the half healed scratches Meatball had given you just last week. “He hates taking his meds.”

“I see,” Jongho chuckles, continuously petting the cat in his lap.

“He’s used to it, so usually he’ll just accept his fate. But sometimes his fighting spirit comes out,” you explain, laughing, and the guy sitting opposite you laughs as well. “But in a situation where he can escape, he’ll rather do that. So no need to worry.”

“I see… oh?” Meatball gets up, and, seemingly having had enough coddling for today, jumps down onto the floor to spread out and continue his nap there. “He’s had enough, huh?”

“Looks like it,” you respond, and for a while you both end up just watching his sleeping figure. However, you eventually tear yourself away from the adorable image, remembering what you had planned to have a conversation about before starting your scene today.

“Uhm…” you clear your throat. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“What is it?” Jongho asks, shooting you a smile. 

“So… we’ve been getting closer even… outside of the bedroom, right?” you say, unsure how to start the conversation, but you know you’ll have to start somewhere, even if things come out a bit awkwardly.

“Right.”

“And it feels like… you really like me. I mean, I like you too, just…”

“What is it?” Jongho raises his eyebrows, and you find a hint of concern hiding behind his gaze.

“Look…” You place your hands on top of the table in front of you. “Before this can go in any direction where we’re not on the same page anymore… I just felt like I should tell you that I’m currently not looking for a romantic relationship.” Silence falls over the room as soon as the words are out, and if you’re being quite honest, you’re a little scared of his reaction. You’ve been very sure there’s more going on here than just sex for him, and you can’t say you’re not taking a liking to him as well. But with your very recent past experiences, you just can’t see yourself already dating someone new. And he deserves to know that, so you know you’re doing the right thing by telling him that. However, at the same time there’s a part of you that’s scared he’ll want to stop seeing you altogether in that case.

“I see,” he eventually answers.

“It’s not you, it’s…” You pause as Jongho holds his breath, waiting for your explanation. “It just hasn’t been long enough for me to… get over my last relationship.”

“Ah…”

“I mean- get over isn’t the right wording. More like… heal?”

“Can I ask… what happened?” he poses a question. Memories flash by your inner eye, and along with them you feel the pain as if everything had happened just yesterday.

“Well… I had a long-term partner until about… five months ago?” you say, while simultaneously deciding you really don’t want to dive into any details right now. Explaining this out loud even just vaguely still hurts a little too much to handle. “We had a pretty bad breakup where a lot of stuff came up… like, that he’s been lying to me about all kinds of stuff. And looking back he never really was a safe person to be with emotionally, but I only realized it when it became clear we’d split up. So…”

“Right… I get that you need a lot of time to recover from something like that,” Jongho answers.

“Yeah…” You take a deep breath. “I’ve been with him for a long time too…” Your ex’s face appears in your mind, and the memories of the man you had once loved and admired so much now just makes you feel sick inside. A touch against your knuckles - Jongho’s hand grazing yours - brings you back to reality, and a look at his face stirs up conflicting emotions deep within you. However, once you watch his lips part for him to speak, and the soothing sound of his voice wraps itself around your ears, an unexpected wave of reassurance washes over you.

“You’re right, by the way,” he says, pausing as he looks around in search of just the right words. “About me liking you beyond just… someone I sometimes get together to have sex with.” You nod at his words as you listen to him speak. “But I don’t want to do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable, or that triggers anything you’re not ready to face.” And then he hesitates, as if it was difficult for him to get his next words out, and as your hand slips into his in order to encourage him to keep going, you feel the dynamic between you two shifting into what you’re most comfortable with. You feel you have taken back some control over the situation, and that makes you feel safe. 

“So, how do you feel about this now? About us.” You ask a question, hoping it would help him speak his mind, and yet it takes him a while before he can reply.

“What I want… is to keep seeing you,” he eventually says, though it seems hard for him to look at you while speaking so honestly, and you give his hand a gentle squeeze to encourage him to keep going. “I understand that dating someone would be difficult for you after something like that. So…” His gaze finds you now, and the sudden determination reflecting in his eyes makes your heart stop for a second. “It’d be fine with me if we kept in touch as just friends for now.”

“Ah…” you sigh, as the remainder of the tension and the anxiety about his response leave your body at once. “I would like that too. As I said, I do like you, and I enjoy spending time with you. It’s just…”

“Not the right time for more,” he finishes your sentence and you nod, relieved that he understands.

“Yeah.”

“That’s okay. Oh, but… Y/N,” he calls out to you, a little hesitant.

“What is it?”

“Does this mean… you want to stop doing scenes with me too?” You raise your eyebrows at him, staring blankly for a second, and he’s quick to add, “I mean, of course I’ll respect that if you don’t want to-” Upon him lifting his hands, waving them in front of his chest and his ears turning a bright shade of red as he’s afraid he might’ve said something wrong, you smile and you get up off your chair, approaching him, and when you’re standing right next to him you capture his chin between your thumb and index finger.

“If you still want to play after this, I’d like to as well,” you assure him, your tone soft, and you brush your thumb along his bottom lip as he glances up at you, need filling his eyes.

“Yes,” he breathes. “I still want to.”

“Then follow me. I wanna try something a bit different today,” you say as you lead him to your bedroom.

He lets you peel off his shirt without resistance, his palms landing on your hips as soon as his bare chest comes into view. And though something inside you wants to escape his touch and swat away his hands so as not to let him have even a fraction of control about the situation, you let it be for now. Instead, you draw closer to him, your fingers finding the buckle of his belt, never once breaking eye contact even when your lips are merely an inch apart. He kisses you back confidently once you close the distance between the two of you, and as his hands attempt to wander up your sides, you’re quick to grab his wrists and tear them away.

“Don’t touch me unless I tell you to,” you mutter dangerously, and though he doesn’t try to escape your grip, in the way he continues kissing you hard you find the desire to overpower you. “That’s enough,” you warn him as you take a few steps back. “Stay right there.” You throw another command at him, and you keep watching him as you rid yourself of your own clothes, revealing the harness you’ve been wearing all this while and no underwear. You’re amused by the way he’s ogling your figure, and a smile creeps onto your lips when you walk over to one of the drawers in your room in order to retrieve a pair of handcuffs from it. 

“You remember talking about this, don’t you?” you say on your way back to him, watching him gulp.

“Yes.” His curt answer intrigues you, as well as the sudden uncertainty behind his expression.

“This is what I wanna try today,” you explain. “Would you be okay with that?” Jongho thinks for a while, and as soon as he nods you run your hand up his chest and comb your fingers through his hair. “That’s what I wanna hear. Good boy,” you coo, and as per usual at this point of a scene, he doesn’t react much to the praise. Then your hand finds the hem of his pants, and as you tug at the fabric, you say, “Off with these.” This time he listens without hesitation, and you let your eyes take in his shapes as he rids himself of the remainder of clothes as well.

“Down.” You give him one simple command, and you watch as the struggle of considering whether he should listen to you or not reflects in the way he keeps his gaze fixated on you while you circle him on light steps. “Didn’t hear me?” you pry, raising your eyebrows at him, and you place your free hand below his chin, drawing near. Thumb brushing across his lower lip, you dig your nail into the plush for a moment, while biting your own bottom lip - the need to kiss him stupid arises within you, but you resist. Now is not the time for that, not when he’s disobeying you like this. Your gaze returns from his mouth to his dark brown eyes, and you decide to stay patient. You stop your movement and merely stare at him, and when his resolve finally wavers, he sinks to his knees, keeping his eyes on yours as his features soften. The look he gives you now hides so many things, you have to take a moment to dismantle all that you can read in it. First and foremost, need. Devotion. Hopefulness. Obedience. Submission. 

You let the emotions it stirs awake deep within you almost sweep you away, but you manage to collect yourself, and you speak another command, “Hands behind your back, pretty boy.” Your voice is soft, wanting to relay to him that you’re proud of him, and when he complies - though not without hesitation - you cuff his wrists together. Then you walk around him and you sit down at the foot of your bed, right in front of him, and with a gesture of your hand, you beckon him to come closer. Fingers lacing through his hair, you observe how his eyelids flutter shut for a moment, lips parting, and he leans into your gentle touch.

“That’s right…” you speak, and the way he peeks up at you is filled with both need and desire. You spread your legs apart, and you inch a little closer to the edge of the bed. “You know what I think?” you say, and Jongho waits for you to tell him the answer to your question. Your hand travels down from the top of his head to his lips, parting them so you could run your thumb across the bottom row of his teeth. “I was thinking you should put that pretty mouth of yours to use.” You can see his adam’s apple move as he gulps at your words, and on his knees he crawls closer yet. His gaze falls to your core immediately, laid out for him to bury his face right there, but with a tug on his hair you stop him.

“Not so greedy,” you say, and you chuckle. “You really think you can please me when you’re driven by nothing but hunger?” Wide-eyed, he stares up at you, and where you had expected a cheeky comment about how he knows how to give good head, you find only silence. “What?” you mock him. “Don’t tell me you forgot how to eat pussy?” And now you must’ve struck something within him, because you can see his eyebrows knit in dismay.

“I know what I’m doing,” he responds somewhat coldly.

“Then prove it.” Without making you wait, he goes in with a bite to the inside of your thigh that ends up being harsher than it would’ve had to be, and you immediately yank on his hair as a punishment. “Getting cheeky, are we?” You receive a glare from Jongho while he kneels between your legs, and though his anger directed at you like that affects you in all the best ways, you know you’re very close to crossing a line for him. You loosen your grip on his hair, massaging his scalp as you continue, “Gentle, or you’re not getting anything at all.” He glares up at you for a few seconds longer, but then reason wins him over, and he goes in more slowly this time. His expression softens while his lips brush against your skin, and he begins kissing his way to your middle. Reaching the spot he had sunk his teeth into just a moment ago, his tongue darts across the marks his little stunt had left, licking them better.

“That’s right,” you praise him. “That’s a good boy.” He hums at your words very quietly, and him already reacting to your praise satisfies you. Playing with his hair, you let him come closer, and when his hot breath hits your core, you let out a deep sigh. He looks up at you as his lips brush against your folds. Then he extends his tongue to lick up a stripe, and his eyes close upon tasting you. The warmth of his tongue pressing against your pussy has you letting out a breathy moan, and you notice how he’s carefully mapping you out - kissing your clit, dragging the tip of his wet muscle along your folds, dipping it inside of your hole only to come back up. And all the while he watches for your every reaction, set on figuring out how to best please you, while intentionally - or so you think, at least - riling you up by slowly testing out whatever comes to mind.

“Wanna do good for me, hm?” you guess, brushing a few strands of his hair out of his face. He responds by pushing his tongue inside of you, slowly, and as he pulls back out, you see him licking his lips. 

“Yes…” he whispers, not daring to look at you now, and you smile at what you can only interpret as shyness.

“Then make me cum,” you say. “And you might just get a reward.” His gaze returns to your face, and eager to please, he wraps his lips around your clit, beginning to gently suck on it. You gasp when his teeth graze the sensitive bud, and you pull away for a moment - you sure as hell aren’t planning on making this easy for him. Allowing him to dive back in, he tries a different approach, this time using his tongue to probe your reaction to him flicking it across the bundle of nerves. With you settling back in against his face he continues, giving it some time now before he starts putting some more pressure behind his movements to make you feel his touch more intensely. The timing being right this time, it makes you moan, and you can slowly feel the pleasure building up in your gut. Again, he keeps doing the same thing while never taking his gaze off of your face, and when he can see you getting slightly underwhelmed by his repeated motions, he lets his tongue wander south, licking into your dripping hole.

“Mmh…” A moan falls from your lips, and you throw your head back for a moment. Jongho takes it as a sign to continue, and when he begins thrusting his muscle in and out of you, you tug at his hair from the heat it sends rushing through your veins. “Feels nice…” you mutter, and when your eyes return to his face buried in your pussy, you find him slowly getting drunk on your taste. And then, just as you’re about to wonder whether you should tell him to switch up what he’s doing, he pulls back out and goes back to drawing figure eights on your clit. You hiss at the feeling - both at how good the sensation of his warm touch against your sensitive bud is, and at how empty him retracting from inside of you is leaving you. For just a moment you curse yourself for deciding to handcuff him, knowing just how good his long fingers would feel inside of you right now, but then you remember you were gonna make this a tedious task for him on purpose, and so you push that thought away.

“Doing really good for me…” you praise him. “But… it’s gonna take you ages to make me cum like that.” The challenging look you send him is met with acceptance, and as he gently bites down on your clit this time, your breath hitches in return, a wave of pleasure shooting right through you like lightning. And he doesn’t miss the opportunity to send you a shit-eating grin upon seeing how he just affected you, but before you can punish him for it, his tongue is already plunging back into your cunt, and you arch your back, pushing your core towards him. He hums at your reactions, pulling back out to draw a few circles onto your clit, and then diving right back in, lapping at your walls. As he repeats that process a few times, you can finally feel your high starting to build up somewhere in the distance, and yet you know this much won’t be enough to throw you over the edge.

“Shit, do more…” you say, and he continues eating you out eagerly, and then finally he angles his face so the tip of his nose brushes against your sensitive bud with each time his tongue fucks into you, and another moan falls from your lips. “Like that…” you say, breathless, and you tighten your grip on his hair. “Keep going just like that…” And he does, eyes closed as he continues licking up into you, nose rubbing up and down on your clit. You spread your legs apart just a little further, wriggling as close to him as you possibly can in order to allow him to reach deeper up into you, and when he moans in response the vibrations shooting up your cunt make you shiver involuntarily. “Fuck, Jongho…” you curse, and hearing his name only serves to make him more eager. A few more strokes of his tongue against that delicious spot right inside of you, and you come undone, your walls contracting around his wet muscle as you let your high overwhelm you.

“Did so well for me…” you praise him as you let go of his hair, and he pulls back. He licks up your juices glistening on his lips, and as you look down on him, you can unmistakably see how much eating you out has turned him on as well. “Get up,” you say, and he does. “And turn around.” You take the handcuffs off him, and as soon as he’s facing you again, you sit back against the headrest of your bed, and you make him come closer, until you have him kneeling right in front of you.

“Get yourself off. I wanna watch,” you command. He doesn’t think twice until his large hand wraps around his hard cock, and the heavy sighs he lets you hear as he jerks himself off tell you how much he must’ve been needing this. He falls forward, his free hand supporting him against the headboard right next to you, and like this, slightly leaned over your body, face distorted in desperation for a release, he ruts into his hand. His eyes wander your figure, fist tightly squeezing around his length, and within mere seconds he cums with a broken moan, spilling his seed all over you. Feeling the sticky white on your stomach and chest, you grant him a few moments to catch his breath, and then you reach out to push him back onto his heels.

“Look at the mess you made…” you growl, and in the way he takes in the image in front of him, you can clearly tell he likes the result of what he’s done. “And you didn’t even last more than a hot minute, huh?” you mock him. Reaching for the handcuffs you had simply tossed aside on the bed, you make him hold out his wrists for you to link them back together, in front of him this time. “Clean up your mess.” You think maybe it’s because making him struggle a bit just earlier that he doesn’t hesitate, but either way you make sure to praise him for getting to work almost immediately. He bends over, tongue lapping at your body to lick off his seed, and he doesn’t frown or complain - he simply does what you’ve asked of him. And the way he so eagerly cleans you up is making you want to force him to please you all over again, and suddenly you remember the question San had asked you when you last saw him. 

“How is he?” The words echo in your head as Jongho reaches your core, his position looking somewhat sorry, but that doesn’t stop him from lapping at your still sensitive pussy as soon as you give him the okay. 

“Wait,” you say, making him sit up briefly, just long enough so you could take the handcuffs off him. You trust that he wouldn’t do anything stupid at this point, so you fling the restraints to the side, and you lie down flat on your back so he could reach where you want him more comfortably. “Get to work, pretty boy,” you say, and he does, throwing your legs over his shoulders and burying his face in your core.

“Doing so good…” you mutter as you watch him, lips wrapped around your clit and sucking, while he pushes two of his fingers into you, stretching you out, and you throw your head back from the feeling of being filled up like this. You had been right, his fingers inside you combined with his mouth working your bundle of nerves really do feel amazing.

Amazing. That’s what he is. But you don’t say that out loud. Instead, you keep urging him on to continue what he’s doing with all other sorts of praise, bucking your hips into his touch, and making him fuck you from one high to the next for however long you feel like it.

“That’s a good boy… shit… listen so well… such a good toy for me…”

“Sorry I’m late!” One of your friends rushes towards the table as Wooyoung is in the process of pouring everyone their first round of shots. 

“You have to drink two for being late!” someone else yells and everyone agrees with laughter. Meanwhile you’re busy grilling some meat for everyone - pork belly, the usual for when all of you manage to make time for you to gather like in the old days. The soju shots are handed out, and you all say cheers, emptying the tiny glasses at once. You continue the conversation you’ve been having before the late comer announced her arrival, and soon enough, Wooyoung decides it’s time for another round of shots.

“What’s with you today?” Hongjoong, who sits right across from him on the round table asks. 

“What do you mean, what’s with me?” the younger man answers. “I’m here to have fun. But I can get you a glass of water in case you’re not.” His cynical comment evokes laughter, and Hongjoong fires back,

“Bring it on.” Next to you, San shakes his head.

“These two…”

“Yeah,” you agree, cutting the meat into bite sized pieces for everyone. “I bet by the end of this at least one of them is passed out on the toilet again.” San smiles, yelling over the table at his boyfriend,

“I’m not carrying you home this time, princess!” However, Wooyoung seems to have heard nothing but the last part, because now he’s grinning from ear to ear, blushing, handing out the glasses to everyone.

“Pff,” you snort upon witnessing their interaction, and when you see the display of your phone lighting up on the table, you shift your attention there. Handing San the tongs and the pair of scissors to continue cooking the meat, you unlock your phone to read the full message sent by Jongho.

“I think I’ll buy it, but I’ll wait for it to go on sale. Btw, I’m free on saturday, if you want to meet up?” You type up a quick answer.

“can’t make saturday. meatball has a vet appointment and then i gotta run some errands ㅜㅜ what about next week?”

You put down the device and return your attention to the conversation at the table, but soon enough your phone lights up again.

“Actually, can we call real quick?”

“sure” You get up, not saying a word, expecting you’ll be back soon enough anyway, and then you leave the busy restaurant. Outside, it is definitely a lot quieter, and standing at the side of the road, you give Jongho a call.

“Y/N? Hi.”

“Hi… what is it?”

“Ah… I just thought it’d be quicker this way.”

“Oh,” you let out a laugh. “I thought something happened.”

“No, no, don’t worry. I just… actually prefer calls to texting.”

“Oh. I get that. So?” You pause for a short moment. “Next week?”

“I could do Friday.”

“Works for me. At 5?”

“7? I’m not sure when I’ll be able to leave work…” he says, sounding somewhat apologetic.

“7 it is,” you reply.

“Nice,” you hear him say.

“Where do you want to meet? We could go to this café near me, the one I told you about last time.”

“Actually, I was wondering if you wanted to come to my place? I think I need some peace and quiet after a full week of work.”

“Sure,” you smile even though he can’t see you. “Your place then. You have to send me the address.”

“Will do.” 

“Great,” you say, and then the line goes quiet. Yet neither of you hangs up, so eventually you add, “So… how was your day?”

“It was alright. I only had one meeting in the morning. The company had stew for lunch today, so I ate at the cafeteria for the first time in a while.”

“Oh, that’s nice.”

“And you?”

“Ah, I’m out with friends right now. You know, my old high school friends.”

“I hope you have fun, then!”

“Yeah, it’s always fun when we see each other,” you assure him, and somehow the way you’re exchanging trivialities like this makes you feel a little closer to him. “I feel like one of them is trying to get all of us drunk today though. So we see how that ends,” you laugh, and so does Jongho.

“Well, I happen to know a very effective recipe for a hangover soup. So if you need me, just call,” he offers.

“Thanks,” you say. “Not trying to reach that state, but I’ll keep it in mind. Oh, but, I think I should go back in. I’m in charge of the grill today, so they’ll start complaining if I don’t come back to feed them soon.”

“Right,” he answers. “Then go. We’ll talk.”

“Yeah. Hanging up!” 

“Bye,” he greets, and for a second you hesitate to press the red button to end the call, and you sigh when he beats you to it. As you’re putting your phone into your pocket, you find a somewhat appalled San approaching you.

“Y/N, is everything alright?” he asks.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

“Just… you were suddenly gone, so I thought I’d check on you,” he says, seemingly embarrassed about how gravely he had misjudged the situation. You shoot him a smile.

“It’s okay, no need to worry. I was just talking to Jongho about meeting him.”

“Oh?” Now your friend raises an eyebrow at you suspiciously. “I thought you didn’t want to go on dates with him…?”

“It’s not a date!” you immediately refute. “We’re just seeing each other as friends. Is that so bad?”

“No?” San fails to repress a grin and he teases, “You sure it’s not a date?”

“Very sure,” you say. After all, you and Jongho had agreed to keep things friendly outside of the bedroom for now. “It’s not a date if the two of us meet up either, is it now?” you state, pointing at San and then yourself.

“No,” your friend agrees.

“See? Nothing to giggle about then. Let’s go back in,” you decide, and you put your hand onto his shoulder to push him towards the direction you both came from.

As soon as you enter Jongho’s apartment, you look around in awe. It’s neat, it’s modern, it’s spacious, and the rent is probably in a range you’d never even dream of earning in your lifetime ever. The walls are all white, the furniture is mostly black with some silver metal rods connecting everything elegantly, you find a grey rug underneath the coffee table that has a glass pane as its top, and the windows are tall - you figure they let in a lot of light during the day, but now, in the evening, they grant a magnificent view of the lights and the bustling nightlife in the city underneath. 

“Whoa…” you gasp, slipping out of your shoes and walking inside right behind Jongho. “So that’s how rich people live, huh.”

“Ahh, it’s not that impressive,” he waves it off, but you shake your head.

“Uhm, excuse me, you do know what my flat looks like, yeah? This here is more than twice the size!” you refute, and then you add, “I just think you’re lucky to be able to afford to live so comfortably.”

“Right,” Jongho agrees, and he loosens his tie as he walks over to the open kitchen. “Do you want anything? Water? Alcohol?” 

“What, wanna get drunk tonight?” you ask with a grin on your lips and you follow him. Catching a glimpse of the contents of one of the cabinets, you can see he doesn’t have a lot of tableware - which makes sense, considering he lives alone. 

“Honestly, I need it…” the guy sighs, looking away. The bags under his eyes are apparent, exhaustion carved into his features, and you wonder if it’s from the usual stress or if something additional happened. “Do you like drinking?”

“From time to time, yeah,” you answer, and you watch him walking out into the living room, opening a different cupboard there, to reveal several bottles of assorted alcoholic beverages. “I take it you enjoy it quite a bit?” you guess, and he gives you a tired laugh.

“Yeah… how about this?” He holds up a bottle of whiskey, and you wonder how many hours you’d have to work to be able to afford an expensive looking bottle like this.

“Whatever you can recommend,” you say. “I don’t know that much about what brands are good.”

“Then we’ll go with this,” he decides, and after bringing over two tumblers and pouring each of you a glass, he sits down on the sofa, inviting you to do the same. 

“Cheers,” he raises his glass, and you follow suit.

“Cheers.” You end up quite enjoying the rich taste of the beverage, along with the slight burn it leaves as it goes down your throat. You make sure to drink it slowly, savouring the taste, and yet soon enough you both find yourselves having emptied your glasses.

“Seconds?” Jongho offers, and you nod. “Oh, do you want ice in it?”

“Sure,” you say, adding with a grin as you watch him walking over to the kitchen for the ice. “You are trying to get me drunk, aren’t you?”

“No, no,” he denies it with a shy smile on his face, and you both laugh. You use the few moments that it takes him until he comes back to scan your surroundings again. There’s not many decorations on the shelves or the wall, a picture that has not been hung up yet and a candle that looks like it’s been lit maybe once. You also find a guitar in one corner of the room - a classical one, and you wonder if he’s good at playing it.

“There you go.” He returns with an adequate amount of ice, and he pours the both of you another drink. You watch as he brings the glass to his lips, taking a sip, and savouring it for a moment before he lets it glide down his throat.

“Had a rough day?” you too take a sip after posing your question.

“Yeah…” the guy next to you answers, and as he puts down his glass, his gaze finds you. “I need a distraction, I think.”

“A distraction? What are you thinking about?”

“You know… what we always do.”

“Ah…” you sigh and you set your glass down on the coffee table in front of you, before turning to him, leaning your body against the backrest of the sofa and placing your palm on top of his thigh. “I don’t do scenes when I’ve had a drink.” You can see the disappointment reflecting in his gaze, though Jongho tries his best not to show it. It’s enough to make you feel bad for having to turn him down though - even when you know it’s for the best. “I could… offer something else though.”

“What?” he asks, looking directly at you with his head cocked slightly to the side, his gaze taking in your features.

“Well… for starters, you seem like you could use a nice hot bath,” you suggest, your thumb drawing circles onto the fabric of his dress pants. “And then you can tell me all about what made you this stressed and tired. Does that sound good?” He nods, his eyes not leaving your face as your fingertips dance from his leg to his stomach, hand coming to a rest there. “And then maybe I’ll make you feel good too… just nothing too extreme today, yeah?” You reach up into his hair, combing it back with your fingers, and at this point his stare lingers on your lips so very obviously. Still, you don’t give him what he wants just yet. Instead, you get up and you position yourself right in front of him, cupping his chin in your hand.

“What?” you chuckle, while he stares up at you with round eyes. “Want a kiss?” Jongho nods and you reach for your glass that is still half full. “I have a better idea.” You take a sip of the cool liquid, and then you bring the tumbler to his lips, feeding him the remainder of the alcohol inside. You watch as he drinks up, feeling the movements along his throat with each gulp he takes, and he blushes upon hearing you mutter,

“Swallow. That’s a good boy.” With him expectantly staring up at you as soon as the glass is empty, you brush your thumb across his bottom lip, and his eyes flutter shut for a moment upon feeling your touch. You lean in, finally granting him a kiss, and as your tongue licks into his mouth, you can still taste the remainder of the alcohol. 

“Let’s go?” you then say, speaking softly, while you part from him slowly. He merely follows you into the bathroom wordlessly, giving you a good idea of just how tired he is, and as you think to yourself that either way this isn’t a state where you’d want to do a scene with him, you also feel the strong urge to take care of him in any way you can bubbling up from deep inside. 

And so you take him by the hand after you close the bathroom door behind you, and you scatter a few kisses in his neck at which he lets out a deep sigh, before you undo his tie for him and you toss it to the side. He reaches up to unbutton his white shirt, but you gently push his hands away, whispering,

“Let me do it.” You take off his clothes one by one, filling the tub up with some nice hot water, and you add some bath salt that you find in one of the cabinets. Ridding yourself of your clothes as well, you get into the bathtub first, sitting at one end of it so you could let him comfortably lean his back against your chest, and as soon as he’s all settled in, your arms snake around his waist. His eyes fall shut with a groan almost immediately, and as your lips brush against his temple, you stop yourself from placing a kiss there. You notice your face has heated up from the warm water, the alcohol in your veins, or maybe the way you feel you’ve never quite been as intimate with him as right now, and you reach over to the bottle of shampoo sitting beside the bathtub. You squirt a generous amount of it into your hands, and as your fingers are working the shampoo into his hair, gently massaging his scalp, you can feel his body relax against you, along with him letting out a deep sigh.

“Feels good?” you ask, and he mumbles,

“Myeah…” 

“So… you wanna talk about anything? Or just stay like this and have me spoil you a bit?” you ask, and it takes him some time to decide on an answer.

“Mmmm… both?” he says while the corners of his mouth curl up into a weak smile. 

“Alright,” you mutter, rinsing his hair, making sure none of the soap gets into his face.

“It’s just…” he sighs, knitting his eyebrows. “Some days I don’t think I can keep doing this anymore.”

“Your job?” you say.

“Yeah… I mean…” he pauses for a while to collect his thoughts. “I’m given more and more responsibilities. I’m not sure when my father is planning on retiring exactly, but it feels like he’s preparing to do it soon? Maybe within the next few years I’ll be able to follow in his footsteps. He hasn’t once asked me whether I really wanted that or not.”

“He just assumes you will do it?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, you are doing it…” you throw in, your fingertips dancing down to his chest. 

“What choice do I have?” Jongho responds. And though you decided long ago that you yourself would walk a different path than the one set out for you, it’s not like you don’t understand why he’s doing it. 

“You’re loyal to your father,” you conclude.

“Yeah…” A bitter laugh escapes him. “Sometimes I wish I was brave enough to rebel.” Combing your fingers through his wet hair, you hum at his words.

“For somebody who needs to be coerced into following orders when it comes to me, you sure are timid.”

“Whatever…” He pouts at your observation, but soon enough the exhaustion takes back over, and his facial features relax as he leans his head against your shoulder. You let your palms wander down his torso slowly, and when you graze his core, he lets out a soft moan.

“I hope you can do what you really want to do,” you then say, as you wrap your fingers around him, feeling him grow as you slowly move up and down his length. “I don’t know how realistic it is to change professions from one day to the other. But I really hope there’s a way for you to do music.”

“Mhm…” he sighs as his body reacts to your touch. 

“If I can help you with this somehow… you know where to find me,” you add, and when your fist reaches his tip, he whines a little.

“I know…” he says, and after a few more strokes of your hand he proceeds, “You’re already helping a lot.” You smile at his words, and at the way he sucks in a breath as the pleasure flows through his body. “But…”

“Hm?”

“No games today?” He raises an eyebrow at you, glancing at you from the corner of his eye, and you have to think for a second to understand what he’s referring to.

“Ah, no… I told you we’re not doing anything crazy while half drunk,” you respond.

“I know, but… this just seems very out of character,” he chuckles, and it’s not like you don’t find yourself agreeing.

“I just wanna make you feel good today,” you say. “You don’t like that?”

“No, no, I do…” he sighs and you know he’s getting closer and closer upon hearing him moaning. 

“I just…” you say, and you earn yourself a disappointed gasp when you stop your movements. “I’ve actually… had something on my mind as well.”

“What is it?” he asks, though it takes him a while to swallow the frustration of you ceasing your touch. Wrapping your arms around his torso now, you speak,

“I’ve just been wondering… if it’s really okay for me to do to you what I’m doing…”

“What do you mean?”

“Forcing you into submission.”

“Ahh…” Silence follows, and Jongho puts one hand over yours that’s resting on his stomach. 

“It’s just… sometimes I wonder if you really want that. Because it’s often so hard for you to let go and go there.”

“I do…” His answer is merely a whisper, and somehow you’re not convinced.

“You sure?” You feel him squeezing your hand in his, and he turns his head as far as he can so he could look at your face properly.

“It’s hard for me, that’s true,” he says. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want it. It doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy it… once you do get me to submit…” You repeat his words in your mind, hoping they would wash away your doubts. You can trust him on things like this, you feel that deep inside, but sometimes you just can’t help but wonder. “And besides… you always take really good care of me. Even now you said you wouldn’t do a scene when you had something to drink. I assume not everyone is that responsible.”

“That’s true…” He turns his head back to look straight ahead, and you feel him intertwining his fingers with yours.

“I feel like I’m in safe hands with you. And if you ever do something I don’t enjoy, I will let you know.”

“Right… thank you,” you mutter, burying your face in the crook of his neck and resting your head there for a while. “That’s reassuring to hear.” You stay like this for some time, just holding him close and listening to each other’s breathing as you enjoy the warmth of the water. “You know what I think?” you eventually speak up. 

“What?” Jongho answers with a bit of a delay, making you think he might’ve been dozing off a bit.

“We should get ourselves to bed. You’ve had a rough day, and you need the rest.”

“So… you’re staying overnight?” he assumes, sounding a little surprised.

“If it’s okay with you… I think the trains will stop running soon anyway,” you make up an excuse, though you’re not exactly sure what time it is. But either way he doesn’t question it and you both get out of the water, wrapping yourselves into two large towels to dry off. You grab a smaller one to throw over his head, and as you roughly rub it against his wet hair, he sends you a boyish grin that makes your heart beat just a little bit faster.

When you’re about to reach for your clothes, Jongho takes you by the hand instead, and next thing you know your back meets the tiles on his bathroom wall, and his lips connect to yours. After but a moment of hesitation, you do the only thing that comes to mind, and you kiss him back, lips moving against each other in a slow rhythm. Drawing closer, his hands find purchase on your hips, and when he presses his body against yours, you moan quietly into his mouth. None of you speaks a word when you part, and though you had planned to simply slip under the covers together and tuck him in, you don’t feel any kind of objection within yourself against where he’s taking this night instead.

You stumble into the bedroom, your towels scattered somewhere on the floor, and when he gently pushes you down on the sheets, crawling on top of you, you can hear him whisper,

“Is this alright with you?” 

“Yeah…” you answer when his lips graze your neck, and your hand finds its way up into his hair as he begins trailing tired kisses down your sternum and belly. At this point you can see just how badly he needs some sleep, but even when you try to convey that to him, he shakes his head.

“Just a bit longer…” he mutters as he lies down beside you, rolling you over onto your side so your back is facing him. “Need you…” You suck in a sharp breath as he mutters those words, and his hot breath hits the back of your neck before you feel his lips connecting to the skin there. He pulls you closer by your hip, until you can feel his length against your behind, and his fingertips wander towards your core while he keeps kissing and nipping at your neck and shoulders.

“Shit…” you breathe, and your body immediately reacts to him running a finger through your folds and then dipping it inside your wet cunt effortlessly. He moans at the sensation and at how ready you are for him, and he snakes his other arm around you from underneath to keep you as close to him as possible. You whine when he slips out of you, lifting your leg up a bit instead for better access, and when you feel his tip grazing your pussy, a shiver full of expectation runs down your spine. You’re so used to long and intense sessions when you’re fucking someone, always staying on top of the situation and keeping control, but every once in a while this is nice too - or maybe your body and mind are reacting to him especially strongly. Either way, you moan when he pushes up into you, and his name escapes you when he begins to roll his hips. His thrusts are sloppy and lack control, purely guided by desperation and the need to be inside of you, but combined with the way his fingers are drawing precise circles against your clit, he’s getting you right where you wants you anyway. And with your back arched just at the right angle, he hits that sweet spot deep inside your cunt with every time he thrusts back in.

“Fuck…” he curses in between letting you hear the prettiest moans, and the sound of his voice only adds to the pleasure rushing through your body. 

“Jongho…” you breathe as he ruts into you faster. “Don’t stop… don’t you dare stop…” He whines in response, his dick twitching inside of you, and you know he’s just as close as you are. A few more thrusts and you feel your walls contract around his size, your high washing over you as a broken moan falls from your lips. He fucks you right through it, when mere seconds later, he too comes undone, teeth sinking into the flesh on your shoulder as he spills inside you. 

You stay just like this, with his arms wrapped around you, and him still buried deep inside you as you both catch your breaths, coming down from your respective highs. The tip of his nose grazes your neck as he lets out a sleepy groan, and you reach for his hand that’s resting on your chest, bringing it up to your lips. Your mind clouded by the blissful aftermath of your orgasm and probably the whiskey too, you press a kiss to his palm, finding yourself mouthing the words you wouldn’t dare speak out loud.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Him holding you as close as he possibly can, he drifts off to sleep behind you while his grip loosens a bit, and feeling safe and sound in his embrace, soon enough you too find yourself slipping into dreamland.

You wake up the next morning, a blanket having been pulled over both your and Jongho’s bodies at some point during the night, and as you blink against the light falling into the room through the windows with the curtains still open, you spot his sleeping face right next to you. It’s not the first time you’ve awoken next to him, yet somehow it feels different than it used to now. The little pout on his puffy lips makes you smile, and while the sunlight slowly wakes up your mind, you wonder whether you should stay in bed like this for a while, or see if there’s anything to make breakfast out of in his fridge. You choose the latter eventually, quietly deciding to borrow a t-shirt of his to throw on, and after you’ve managed to find your underpants in the pile of clothes you had left behind in the bathroom, you make your way to the kitchen. Looking through the scarce ingredients that greet you there, you figure Jongho doesn’t cook for himself a whole lot, but some eggs and rice should be enough for a simple breakfast. 

Soon enough, he appears behind you in his kitchen, using the opportunity to sleepily hug you from behind as he peeks over your shoulder.

“What you making?” he asks, his voice not yet warmed up, and you shake him off with a giggle to move towards the stove, cracking two eggs into a pan.

“Just this with some rice,” you answer. “It’s not a very fancy breakfast but I thought it’s better than nothing.”

“Hmm,” he makes a noise in return. “We could’ve ordered something, you know?” 

“That’s what I was trying to avoid, dumbass,” you laugh.

“Hey!” he exclaims in offense, and you shoot him a cheeky grin.

“Go wash up, it’ll be ready in a few minutes. Oh, also,” you stop him from running off right away. “Coffee?”

“Sure,” he answers, opening a cupboard to get two mugs out of it, and he gets to brewing some on the expensive looking coffee machine on the counter.

“I could’ve made it too,” you say, heating up the rice in his microwave, but Jongho just shakes his head. 

You carry the minimalistic breakfast over to the dinner table, sitting down across from each other, and you eat in silence. You find there’s some irony behind you sitting in such a fancy apartment, owned by someone who has more than enough money, and then you’re having such a simple and cheap dish with him. When you’re both done eating and you reach for the dishes to collect them and carry them back to the kitchen, he beats you to it.

“You go brush your teeth first, I’ll take care of this,” Jongho mutters, shaking his head at your attempt to clean up. “There should be a spare toothbrush in the drawer under the sink.” And so you leave him to it, finishing your morning routine in the bathroom, and soon enough he joins you.

“So? How are you planning on spending the day?” you ask, both of you back in the living room, lounging on his sofa.

“I usually don’t do much on the weekends,” he says. “I’ll go work out later, and then probably just catch up on some more sleep.” 

“Makes sense,” you retort, and your eyes find the guitar you had already noticed yesterday. Pointing at it with your chin, you ask, “You play?”

“Ah, yeah. It’s been a while though.” He gets up to bring it over, tuning it with the help of some app on his phone, and as he’s getting ready to play, he clears his throat a few times. “I can show you a bit if you want… my voice isn’t warmed up though, so sorry if anything sounds off,” he explains, an embarrassed smile playing on his lips, and then he begins strumming a few chords. You listen in anticipation, and though you knew you liked his voice before, you find yourself taken aback when you actually hear him sing for the first time. He’s playing a song you haven’t heard before, a Korean ballad, so not exactly your go-to genre of music. But you have to say it suits him very well, and so you find yourself enjoying the music he’s playing for you, finding that the song ends much too soon.

“Wow…” You give him an applause, causing him to look away a bit awkwardly.

“I’m not that good,” he says, but you disagree.

“No, that was really good actually,” you say. “I didn’t know you could sing that well!” He hesitates for a while, before taking the compliment.

“Thank you…” As he puts the guitar aside, you wonder whether you should stop him and ask him to play something else, but he ends up being faster in starting to talk.

“You see, I don’t have much time for music these days.”

“That’s a shame…” you say, and he nods in agreement.

“Yeah… but you know how it is.” You sense a bitterness behind his words that hurts to witness, and you wonder if there’s anything you could say that would comfort him. “Things have been decided for me. And the decision wasn’t this.”

“You should’ve been able to choose for yourself.”

“Yeah. My brother got that privilege. Not me.”

“How come?”

“He got to pursue his dream. When he was in middle school my parents had a talk with him to ensure he could do what he wants. Meanwhile they told me that I’m the future of my dad’s company, and I need to study well and do what they want.”

“That’s… really unfair,” you say.

“I guess it’s the burden of the first born,” he reckons, but there’s no sincerity behind his words. Maybe it’s something he’s been telling himself to make things a bit more bearable.

“Still…” You reach out, wanting to comfort him, but you hesitate to put your hand into his. Instead, your palm somewhat awkwardly lands on his shoulder, and he turns his head to look you in the eye. His gaze lingers on your face, taking in your features one by one, and once he can tear himself away, he continues.

“You know, I get that my father doesn’t want to give up the family business. It’s taken him and his parents a long time to build it up and to make it as successful as it is now. But… some days I wish it had been different.”

“I know.”

“Having a choice… must be nice.” You gulp. You are the one who had a choice here. And for a second the fear that maybe he resents you for it takes a hold of you, and you try to push it down with all your might. “Ah…” Jongho sighs, looking up at the ceiling now as he reaches for the hand resting on his shoulder, his warm palm covering it. “I’m jealous of him. To be honest, I’m jealous of you too.” Your breath gets stuck in your throat, but when he turns to give you a look filled with warmth, you find yourself relaxing a bit.

“Who wouldn’t be?” you say.

“Right…” He wraps his hand around yours, peeling it off his shoulder and instead intertwining his fingers with yours. You draw closer, until your faces are mere inches apart. “I’m sorry,” he mutters. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, it’s okay,” you answer, shaking your head ever so slightly, and you find him staring at your lips. “I got a little scared there. But I know you wouldn’t take it out on me.” He closes the distance between you, but instead of kissing you, he buries his head in your neck, and he lets go of your hand to pull you closer and into his lap by your hips instead. You don’t fight it, quite the opposite - you let your lips ghost over his nape, and once you’re comfortably settled on top of him, your mouth searches for his, melting against him in a slow and lazy kiss. You permit him to have his fingertips wandering your figure, soft touches received through the oversized shirt you’re wearing. He nibbles on your lower lip, drawing a breathy moan out of you, and in return you roll your hips against him, taking back control of the kiss in the blink of an eye. You separate eventually, breathless, and you don’t hesitate to move on to his neck, brushing your lips against his mole there. One hand finds the short hair at the back of his head to tug at, and you make him expose his neck to you, giving you access to wherever you want it. Teeth sunk into his skin and your tongue pressing against his pulse makes him push you closer into him with his hand placed on the small of your back, and when you start sucking a mark into his nape, he hums at the feeling. You take your time with it, nibbling on the skin until it begins to change color, and even though you’ve chosen a spot that’s hard to cover up, he doesn’t stop you. Instead, his heavy breaths and the way you can feel him growing against your core tell you he likes what you’re doing, and once you’re done you make sure to soothe the spot with a few gentle kisses. You sit up straight to take a look at your work and then at his face, half lidded eyes watching you attentively.

“Say…” you begin, putting a finger over his lips and then tracing a line down from his chin, over his adam’s apple and towards the base of his neck. “How about a different kind of workout for today?”

“What kind?” Jongho asks, his voice low, and you’re sure he knows exactly what you’re thinking of.

“Well…” you mumble, drawing near until you’re sure he can feel your hot breath on his face. “We’re both sober now, so…”

“I think I’m in trouble.” San stares at you from across the table of the fast food place where you decided to have an emergency meeting during your lunch break. You know you don’t have time to beat around the bush, as you will both have to be back at your work places in less than an hour, so you ended up simply blurting out the first thing that came to mind.

“What do you mean?” Concern is painted all over his face as he picks up his sandwich, stopping himself in the process of biting into it to respond to you.

“Uh…” That’s the only sound that makes it out of your mouth as your gaze drops from your friend’s face to the food on your tray.

“Y/N, did something happen…?”

“...I think I’m in love with him.” 

“Ahhh…” Now San is leaning back in his chair, a smug grin appearing on his lips. “I knew it.”

“Shut up.”

“I knew it!”

“Shut the fuck up.” 

“Alright, alright.” Still grinning, he takes a big bite of his egg sandwich, and you do the same.

“I just… I’m scared,” you admit once you’ve swallowed the food in your mouth. “I know I’m repeating myself here, just…”

“I know,” San says. “You’re scared of getting hurt again.”

“Yeah… maybe,” you answer. “Actually, I don’t think… he would betray me like that. But… yeah, I guess the fear is still there somewhere.”

“That makes sense,” your friend responds. “But… it’s good to see you heal.” His words make you halt for a moment.

“Right… I suppose that does mean… I’m healing. But…” you let your gaze wander around the restaurant, “have I healed enough?”

“Only you know that.” You lower your head.

“I’m scared I’m not ready yet after all, and that I’ll end up hurting him…” you mutter.

“Y/N,” San says, reaching across the table to put his hand over yours, making you look him right in the eye. “I think you worry too much.” You sigh.

“I know that too…”

“And besides,” he continues, “how else are you going to heal wounds caused by a relationship other than in a relationship?”

“Right,” you find yourself agreeing, and at the same time you wonder if maybe there’s wounds you have helped Jongho heal. You’ve done a lot for him, you know that, so why wouldn’t it be possible that he’s also doing a lot for you?

“You know what I think?” San says.

“What?”

“You’re not gonna like this, but… as much as you’re trying to help that guy let go of his need to be in control… I think that’s something you too would benefit from practicing sometimes.” His words hit you like a speeding truck. You’ve actually never thought of it this way, but now that he’s laid this aspect of you bare, you can’t deny it’s always been there. For a while, you find yourself wondering since when you’ve been like that, and part of the answer is probably always. But you do remember moments where you let go of that control, where you quite willingly put it into somebody else’s hands actually. So where did all that go?

Oh. You hold your breath for a second. It was probably your ex who made you close yourself up to the possibility of letting someone else take care of you, take a bit of control away from you every once in a while. Because you couldn’t trust him.

“You’re right,” you retort dryly. “I didn’t like hearing that. But I think you’re right.” San shoots you a smile, his dimples showing.

“Then go tell him how you feel, and you can figure things out. You don’t have to rush into a relationship and, I don’t know, get married and move country right away,” he reminds you with a lighthearted tone. “You can take things as slow as you need them to be. Though I’m sure now I’m the one repeating himself.” He lures a chuckle out of you, as you manage to push the thoughts of your past relationship aside.

“Yeah… I wonder if I have the courage yet,” you respond. “Thanks for listening, anyway.”

“That’s what friends are for, don’t mention it.”

You stretch your back with your arms thrown above your head while you groan, and you don’t miss the amused gaze Jongho gives you for it.

“What?” you ask with a grin on your lips. “Sitting still for almost three hours is taking its toll on me!” And now he’s laughing at your words, and seeing the expression on his face makes your heart beat a little faster.

“I didn’t say anything,” he refutes, holding out his hand to take your empty popcorn bag from you. “I’ll be right back.” You see him walk over to the trash bins to throw it away for you, when the song played in the lobby of the cinema you came to watch a movie you’ve both been dying to see catches your attention. 

If the world was ending, I’d wanna be next to you - you hum along to the melody, and when Jongho is back by your side, you point towards the general direction of where the nearest speaker must be. 

“I really like this song,” you comment, and he listens for a short while before his face lights up and he recognizes it.

“Oh, me too actually,” he says. “I tried playing it a few days ago, but I think I already forgot half the chords again.” You make your way out of the building, and when he’s getting ready to say goodbye, you speak up before he can.

“Your place is close to here, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then how about we go together and I drop you off. You didn’t come here by car, did you?”

“Ah, no. I walked,” he says. “I thought some exercise would do me good after today. Though it’s only like ten minutes.”

“Then let’s go!” 

You chat some more about the movie and the actors on the way, and somehow you both end up coming to the conclusion that it didn’t quite meet your expectations.

“The actress who played the female lead did a really good job though,” Jongho throws in, and you agree.

“Right, I’ve only seen her in dramas so far, and I liked her acting better here,” you say. “Are you a fan of her?”

“A bit, yeah,” he admits, and the urge to tease him about suddenly getting shy is overwhelming.

“So you like her, huh? You think she’s pretty?”

“Well.. yes,” he says, and you chuckle. 

“So she’s your type?”

“I don’t know, actually,” he says as you arrive in front of the apartment complex where he lives, and he fishes the keys out of his pocket. “I maybe wouldn’t go that far.”

“I see.”

“Then…”

“Yeah…” You both hesitate, and as he opens his mouth to say goodbye, you cut him off. “Actually, can I come in for a few minutes?”

“Sure,” he says. “You can stay for longer than that too.” He lets the both of you inside and you take the elevator to his floor. Having arrived in his flat, you both slip out of your shoes and leave them by the door before stepping inside. You know what you came here to say, yet somehow now that you’re supposed to start the conversation, nothing will come out of your mouth. Torn in your mind, you fidget with the sleeves of your shirt, and when you hear Jongho’s voice you snap out of it.

“Did you want to talk about something?” he asks knowingly, and you nod. “Then let’s sit down first of all.”

“I… haven’t been seeing other partners for a while, actually,” you blurt out before he can start walking over to his sofa, and he raises his eyebrows at you, seeming a little perplexed. 

“That’s… great I guess?” he answers, before correcting himself, “I mean… is it?” 

“I-” The words threaten to get stuck in your throat again, but you take in a deep breath and before the doubts in your mind can set in again, you say, “I’m falling in love with you… is what I’m trying to say.” And now the expression on Jongho’s face changes to genuine surprise, before you find a slowly growing smile appearing on his lips. “But… it still scares me,” you add, and wordlessly the man in front of you takes you by the hands, leading you over to the sofa and sitting down with you. He too seems to need a few moments to find the right words, as you see him looking around the room before he finally speaks up.

“I still… feel the same about you,” he starts, his gaze directed at you now. “I’m in love with you too. And I get that it’s still hard for you. So, we don’t have to go anywhere you’re not ready for.”

“I just… I know you won’t hurt me on purpose… but a part of me…” You struggle to keep going. You don’t want to project your past relationship onto Jongho, and yet you just cannot get that voice at the back of your head that’s constantly screaming danger to shut up.

“I know.” He gives your hands a light squeeze, and the gesture tears you out of your endless worries and brings you back to reality. To him. “And it’s not like my past relationship isn’t still haunting me either, to be quite honest.” Considering how long it’s been for him, you’re a little surprised. “But I think… maybe… we can just keep going at the pace we had so far. And see where it takes us.”

“You’re probably right…” you find yourself agreeing with him. You want anything but to rush into another relationship, because you know you still need time more than anything. But thinking about it now, you’ve actually been going at just the right pace all this time. “No, you’re right,” you repeat, and he shows you a reassuring smile. Hope grows in your chest that maybe, just maybe this might just work out for the two of you. No - that hope has been there for a long time, you’ve just never had the courage to admit it up until now.

“Oh,” he then exclaims, getting up. “Wait.”

“For what?” you ask, but you don’t receive an answer. So you simply watch as he turns on his radio, and then he searches for something on his phone, before you hear a song starting to play, and within the first few beats you recognize it as the song you’ve pointed out to him back at the cinema. Jongho puts his phone on top of one of the half empty shelves and then approaches you, holding a hand out to you.

“Do you like dancing?”

“Dancing?” The horror on your face must be apparent, because he briefly laughs at your reaction when he comes to a halt right in front of you and you hesitantly get up. “I… don’t know how to dance…” you admit, and he grabs you by your hands, pulling you aside to where there’s more space.

“It’s okay,” he mutters, placing his palm onto the small of your back and waiting for you to hold onto him. “I’ll lead you.” He begins moving along to the music, leaving you no choice but to follow as his grip on you remains steady. Your steps feel heavy, and you’re clumsily following along wherever he decides to sway next, but soon enough you recognize a pattern behind his movements, and you find yourself feeling a bit more comfortable in his hold.

“You’re doing well,” he says, and you crack a smile. This is probably the first time you’ve heard those words from him and not vice versa, and for some strange reason pride swells in your chest. You find yourself humming along to the singers on the track as you let go of the fear of embarrassing yourself or stumbling over your own feet, and you find him mouthing a few of the lyrics as well.

I don't even wanna do this anymore Cause you already know what you mean to me And our love's the only war worth fighting for.

You sway from side to side, the distance between your bodies closing almost naturally, until you have your head leaning against his chest, allowing him to just hold you close as you move in tune with the song’s rhythm. You close your eyes, and in that moment it dawns on you that you trust him to show you the right direction, to hold onto you so you won’t fall, no matter what. 

Wherever you go, that's where I'll follow Nobody's promised tomorrow So I'ma love you every night like it's the last night.

“You know,” he breathes into your ear.

“Hm?”

“I’ve been wanting to tell you this for a while now… Thanks for becoming someone I can rely on.” His sudden confession makes you smile, and at this point you feel like your body is moving along with his by itself, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Mhm,” you hum. “The same goes for me.” Warmth spreads all throughout you - a kind of warmth you haven’t felt in a while. You realize in that moment that you two have become a pretty good team in more ways than one. Emotionally, you’ve come to understand each other, being able to tell what the other might need from the slightest signs. And physically too, you’re not the only one who’s learned how to read him, how to handle him. He too has learnt how to see right through you, like coming together with you to form a perfect synergy, time and time again.

“Sit down for me,” you say, kneeling in front of him on top of your bed, a piece of cloth in your hands, and you give him a smile filled with both excitement and the need to take care of him. Jongho obeys, peeking up at you expectantly, and you cup his chin in your hand. “Good boy,” you praise him, and you see the way his eyes sparkle at your words. Then you bring the blindfold up to his face, covering his eyes with it.

“You feeling alright?” you ask once you finish tying the ends of the silky fabric together behind his head, and Jongho slowly nods. You have him straddled on top of your bed, sitting comfortably in his lap when you reach for the bowl of ice cubes you had prepared and you pop one of them into your mouth, letting it melt on your tongue for a little bit before you chew on it a few times and you swallow. Your now ice cold lips meet his, and as he gasps at the cool sensation, you slip your tongue inside. With your arms loosely wrapped around his broad shoulders, you share a slow but deep kiss with him as your lips gradually take on a warmer temperature again.

“Wanna be good for me and lie down?” you breathe, giving him a gentle push to his sternum, and he does as told. Then you reach for another ice cube, and holding it between your lips, you lean in. He sucks in a sharp breath as the cold material comes in touch with his skin, and it leaves a thin layer of melted water as you drag it along his collarbone and down his chest. His hands searching for something to hold on to, he finds your hips, but as per usual, you don’t permit him to touch you. Instead, you take a hold of his wrists, placing them to each side of his head, and letting go of the ice cube for a moment, you speak quietly but with an emphasis,

“Stay like this.” You watch as his lips part, though he doesn’t give you an answer. Instead, he merely holds the position you’ve put him in, even when you can see his hands forming fists as soon as you continue to move the ice along the lines on his torso. You let your warm palm glide up the same way you had dragged the ice down his body, and he gasps softly at the sudden temperature change. “‘S that feel good, pretty boy?” You run your nails back down over his well trained chest and the delicate skin on his stomach, and he flinches underneath you.

“Mhm,” he hums in response as the ice cube continues to melt against his skin. You lick up the water around it, flat tongue warming up the area, and you quietly reach for a new one from the bowl on your bedside table. Nipping on his skin while his chest gently rises and sinks beneath you, your lips wander to the left, and when you brush them against his nipple, he lets you hear a tiny whine. 

“You like that?” you ask, your voice sultry.

“Yeah,” Jongho breathes.

“And what about this?” You put the ice into your mouth, using it to draw circles around the sensitive bud, and immediately his chest rises as he sharply sucks in a breath of air. You use the tip of your tongue to soothe his skin, but when you begin to lap at his hard nipple, the heat of your mouth mixing with the chilling sensation of the ice, a moan falls from his lips. Your hand finds the other side of his chest, and with one thigh placed between his legs, you press up against his core, feeling him starting to get hard.

“Getting horny for me, huh?” you tease him. “And so pliant today.” Your partner can’t but whine at your words, as you move your thigh against his length for some friction. You pick up the remainder of the ice cube and move back up to his mouth to kiss him, parting his lips so you could let the ice melt between your tongues as you kiss him breathless. “Such a good boy,” you mutter into his mouth, and when you reach down between your bodies to wrap your hand around his cock, he throws his head back, teeth clenched. You hum at all the reactions you seem to be drawing out of him so much more easily today, and with your face buried in his neck to nibble on the skin there, you start slowly jerking him off. Jongho lets you hear a breathy moan when you sink your teeth into his skin with the intention of marking him as yours, and he writhes underneath you when your fist reaches his tip.

“Sensitive today, aren’t we?” you tease him a bit further, and his ears take on a bright shade of red as heat rushes to his face. “You’re so cute like this.” He whines in protest and all you can do is chuckle in return when you move further south, leaving a trail of kisses down his chest, and a few bites here and there too. A pained sigh falls from his lips when you let go of his fully erect length, sitting up on top of him now and gently running your nails down his upper body. “You don’t like it when I call you that?” He doesn’t say anything, but the pout that appears on his plush lips tells you all you need to know. “You can tell me, beautiful,” you mutter, reaching for one of his hands and placing a lingering kiss to his palm. “Or did I already make you forget how to speak?”

“No…” he says. “Don’t like it…” You find his other hand as well, and you pin both his wrists to the bed right above his head with one hand.

“Well I can’t help it,” you coo over him, and for a second there you have to recollect yourself upon taking in the image unfolding underneath you. “You’ll need to be a little less cute then.” And again, he whines in defeat, and you roll your hips on top of him once, your core grazing his hard on and it makes him shiver. “Shit, I didn’t think taking one of your senses away would make you this much more sensitive…” He throws his head to the side, mayhaps in an attempt to escape your looks, but he must know just as well as you do that he can’t hide. “Don’t,” you whisper, capturing his chin between your thumb and index finger of your free hand, and you place a kiss to the corner of his mouth before running your fingertips across his lips. He parts them ever so slightly, and you push your thumb inside eventually, leading him to gently bite down before you find the tip of his tongue. Hot saliva coating your thumb, you praise him to make him continue sucking on it. “I wanna watch you…” you mutter, almost mesmerized by how well he complies, a blush dusted onto his cheeks. “Wanna see everything.” You pull out your thumb and you bring your hand down to wrap it around his cock, distributing his spit along his length and spreading it on his tip. He arches his back underneath you, seemingly desperate for your touch, and maybe if he could see the wicked smile on your lips he wouldn’t get so into it already. However, like this you just can’t help but take advantage of his need, and so you gradually pick up speed, stroking him closer and closer towards his high.

“Doing so well for me today,” you grant him some more words of praise, and you enjoy seeing how his face distorts underneath the blindfold when you add, “And so needy…” He groans as you bring him nearer to the edge, his hips bucking up into your hand, but you immediately shift your weight to hold him down. “Don’t get greedy, pretty boy,” you warn him, and by the broken moan he lets out you can tell he’s about to come undone.

“Not yet,” you mutter when you take your hand away, and as soon as Jongho understands what’s happening, he sucks in a sharp breath. 

“Shit…” he curses through gritted teeth, and you chuckle at him, cupping his cheek in your palm.

“You really thought I’d let you cum? Just like that?” you mock him in a tone so sweet it must hurt. “Shouldn’t you know better by now?” He moves his head away from your touch, anger reflecting on his face, and it intrigues you. “What? You really are getting greedy.” Pouring some salt into the wound, you wonder how he would react. You know for a fact that if you had done this same exact thing to him a few weeks ago, he would’ve immediately tried to fight back, to turn the tables around on you. Or maybe he would’ve called out the safe word, unable to stomach all the frustration coursing through his body from how you’re treating him so unfairly - according to him anyway.

But nothing. He merely lies there, his jaw clenched, not starting a single attempt to free his hands from your hold. And it takes him a few moments, but eventually you can feel him relax underneath you, and an overwhelming wave of heat rushes straight to your core as you can hear him speak a single word very quietly.

“Please.” For just a second you want to give him everything, and so you reach for his cock, and when you start pleasuring him, he throws his head back, letting out an almost angelic sound as he moans at your touch.

“That’s right…” you breathe. “Such a good boy…” And he seems to get the hint, because as soon as the praise reaches his ears, he begs some more.

“Please… please let me cum…” 

“More, baby boy. Let me hear more…”

“P-please… want it so bad…” You feel him twitching in your hand and he whines at the way you’re moving your fist along his size, a drop of precum forming on his tip and you collect it on your fingers to coat his length with it. “P-please… please…!” The words keep falling from his lips while his body tenses up, and just when you think he must be almost there, you stop again, earning another strained noise from him. He says nothing as you let him catch his breath for a while, waiting until he’s come down from his almost-high, and again you find yourself affected by how he isn’t complaining at all.

“Gonna make you feel so good,” you promise. “Just trust me.” Jongho nods. He does trust you. And so, with a swelling feeling of pride warming your chest, you begin jerking him off again. “Doing so well for me, baby,” you say. “Gonna make you cum so good.” You lean in, your nose grazing the skin on his neck as you scatter little kisses all over, and eventually you wander down to his shoulder. You can feel him writhe in pleasure underneath you, and the stronger he reacts, the faster you move your hand along his cock. “Cum for me, pretty boy,” you mutter, before sinking your teeth into his flesh, and not long after he cries out from the sharp pain, he comes undone with a sweet moan, spilling into your hand and all over his stomach.

You let go of his hands and you reach for the wet towel beside your bed to wipe him clean, enjoying the few whines you draw out of him when touching an area that’s still too sensitive. Then you rub your hands along his thighs in a soothing motion, watching him catch his breath.

“Such a good boy…” you mutter, and you see him gulp at the praise. “You know what I think?” 

“Hm?”

“I’d really like to tie you up a bit… how’s that sound?” He nods at your suggestion. “Then sit up.” You get a piece of rope before you position yourself behind him. “Give me your hands.” Jongho does as told, and you place them so his elbows are angled at about 90 degrees, and his forearms are parallel to each other. You put some rope around them, checking if the position feels comfortable to him, and as soon as he gives you the okay, you get to work. It’s almost meditative, tying one knot after the other, watching as a pretty pattern forms along his arms, and he too seems to enjoy the sensations it’s giving him, because it’s apparent how the tension leaves his shoulders bit by bit.

“That should work,” you say when you’re done, and you run your palms up his shoulder blades, all the way to his neck, wrapping your fingers around it. He reacts immediately by leaning his head back, exposing his throat to you, and you go in for a few feathery light kisses against his pulse. “How are you feeling?” Your fingertips wander down his front, grazing his chest and then moving to his sides, following the lines to his hips before you rub your palm along his thighs. You feel the urge to bend him over right then and there, maybe give him a few spanks, but you remember he’s told you before he’s bad with pain - most kinds anyway, so instead you bring your hands back up, and you take them away as you move to his front, and you comb your digits through his brown locks while he says,

“I’m good.” 

“There’s so much I want to do to you…” you whisper, watching him biting his lower lip in anticipation, and with one look down his body you find him in the process of getting hard again. You huff at the sight. “Already recovering, huh? Well, I think if you want me to touch you some more you should first earn it, don’t you agree?” Jongho nods, waiting patiently for you to tell him what you want. “Lie down.” Your command is short, and he follows it immediately, lying flat on his back with his arms underneath. “That’s right,” you praise as you crawl on top of him, placing yourself right above his face with your thighs to each side of it. “Show me how much you want it, baby boy.” His mouth falls open as soon as you lower yourself onto his face, lips grazing your folds and his hot breath makes you shiver. You hold on to the bed frame with one hand, and you suck in a breath when you feel the tip of his tongue starting to carefully map out your pussy. And it doesn’t take long for it to become apparent that just as much as you got to know him pretty well over the past few months, he too knows a thing or two about how to push all the right buttons for you. Because even just the way he starts out with light, teasing touches, humming at your taste while he licks up your juices makes your head spin. 

“Doing so well for me…” you mewl, and he draws another moan out of you when the tip of his nose bumps against your clit.

“Y/N…” he slurs your name with his mouth buried in your cunt, and you clench around nothing in response. He takes his time outlining your folds with the tip of his tongue, always returning to your sensitive bud in the end. And when his wet muscle travels back down, he lets the tip of his nose rub against it instead. Slowly but steadily he makes you crave more, and in between soft moans and deep breaths, you order,

“More. Want you inside.” And he doesn’t keep you waiting, his tongue darting up into your dripping cunt and when he moans at your taste the vibrations he sends up your core have you mewling some more. “Shit, like that…” you praise, reaching into his hair and pulling on the strands while he begins thrusting his tongue in and out of you. You rock your hips on top of him, grinding down onto his face, and he whines at the way you tear at his locks somewhat ungently while searching for just the right angle. His moans mingling with yours in the air, you feel your heartbeat quicken as you fuck yourself on his face, and when the tip of his tongue hits that perfect spot deep inside of you, you say,

“Right there… don’t stop.” Hungrily lapping up your juices, he’s keeping a steady pace, and even though he can probably barely breathe at this point he lets you use him to get off. “Just a little… longer… shit, you’re doing so well for me…” Praise after praise falls from your lips, and with only a few more strokes of his tongue, you feel yourself clenching around it as your orgasm hits you. “Fuck, Jongho…” you mewl through gritted teeth as your entire body shakes on top of him, and he fucks you right through your high, until he can feel you starting to come down from it. 

“Did so well…” you whisper a praise as you crawl off his face to give him some space to breathe. A groan escapes him as soon as his nose and mouth are unobstructed, and you notice the way the lower half of his face is all covered in your slick. “Such a good boy for me…” you add as you lean in, licking your juices off him and then eventually kissing him, tasting yourself in his mouth as you dominate the kiss. “I’ll be right back,” you assure him, running your fingers through his disheveled hair once, before you lift yourself up off the bed to put on the harness and the strap on you had prepared. 

“You think you’re ready for your reward now, pretty boy?” you ask him on the way back, and he nods vigorously, letting out a noise in agreement. You chuckle at the image, and you order, “On your knees then.” He takes on the position you asked for - still managing to look good in the process, despite his hands being tied behind his back not being of much use, but you can tell the scene so far has exhausted him. You sit right in front of him, his cock rock hard and waiting to be touched, and when your fingers ghost over the tip he flinches.

“Guess what I got for you,” you whisper, leaning in close to his ear, and you brush your lips against his neck, grazing the mole there when he leans back his head to give you access. You take the invitation, sinking your teeth into his skin gently, before pulling back.

“What…?” he slurs.

“Guess,” you say again, but when his lips part and he doesn’t respond, you decide to give him a hint. “Something you liked a looooot last time.” He gulps, and you’re sure he understands. “Say it, pretty boy,” you mutter as you give his cock another light touch, and he immediately sucks in a sharp breath of air. “Or you won’t get to cum again.” Jongho whines in response - it must feel unfair to him that you’re making him wait for it so long. But at this point you know that with a few praises scattered in between all the teasing and edging and making him work for it, he’ll regain some patience, and you can keep playing with him a little longer.

“S-strap…” he guesses correctly, yet very quietly.

“What was that?” you ask him to repeat himself, and you wrap your fingers around the base of his length.

“Strap on,” he repeats, ears burning red, and you move your hand up and down his size slowly as a reward.

“That’s right,” you say. “Are you embarrassed?”

“A little,” he admits, and it makes you grin.

“A little?” you coo, as you jerk him off way too slowly. And yet his body tenses up under your touch, and he whines each time you graze his sensitive tip. “Don’t cum,” you warn him. “If you do, no strap for my baby boy.” He whines again, very clearly in distress, because all of the pleasure that has built up deep in his stomach is gradually getting too much to handle, and you see his thighs beginning to tremble. “You’re embarrassed… but my cock inside of you makes you feel so good.”

“Ah-!” Another whine falls from his lips, his hips charging forward as he ruts into your hand without control, but he manages to stop himself when you hiss,

“What did I say? No cumming until I allow it.” 

“Y-yes…” Seeing his gritted teeth it’s obvious how much willpower it takes him to hold back as his whole body begins to shake, and you reckon with the blindfold on it’s only harder to resist the overwhelming pleasure. But you don’t stop touching him, you don’t stop stroking his twitching cock, even when he begins stringing together all the curse words he knows and then some more.

“Fuck… shit… I’m-...” With a pathetic noise, he spills into your hand, and when he goes down, bowing before you to apologize, he doesn’t stop shaking all over. “I’m sorry… ‘m so sorry…” You remove your hand, watching as the man in front of you crumbles into nothing more than a tiny picture of misery, and when you see the wet stains forming on the fabric of the blindfold, you bring your hand that’s still coated in his seed to his mouth.

“Shh,” you coo. “Open up, beautiful.” And he does, he opens wide for you to put your fingers in his mouth, and without you needing to say anything else, he knows what to do. His tongue snaking around them, he cleans his cum off your hand thoroughly, not leaving a single millimeter of your skin stained when you pull out again. Instead, your hand is now coated in his saliva, and so you tell him to turn around.

“Bend over for me,” you order, and using the spit on your fingers as a substitute for lube, you start teasing his hole. And as soon as you come in contact with his ass, a heavenly moan slips past his lips. “That’s right, relax. Don’t worry, I’m not mad at you for cumming.”

“Mhm…”

“However… I think you do deserve a little bit of a punishment,” you continue, slipping one finger inside him. With the other hand, you reach around his body, and with a firm grip, you find his limp dick. His breath hitches immediately, and you chuckle at his reaction. “Too sensitive, are we?”

“Y-yeah…” he admits with a trembling voice.

“Should’ve listened to me then, hm?” You’re fully aware that he couldn’t have possibly held out any longer - truth be told, it was your goal to make him cum unallowed, just so you could punish him for it in the aftermath. “What’s your color, baby boy?”

“...green…” he whines desperately, and his entire body jolts as you stroke him, while you gradually prep his hole for what’s to come. Some actual lube serves to assist you, and when you find his sweet spot with two fingers buried inside of him, there’s nothing more than a whining, squirming mess left underneath you.

“Sh-shit… f-feels so… g-good…” he stutters, slurring his words as his mind must be filled with nothing but the overwhelming mixture of pleasure and pain from the way you’re overstimulating him. 

“You feel good?” you repeat, your voice gentle, and the more you feel him growing again in your hand, the more desperate his whines and whimpers become.

“Mmm… myeah… so good…” You add a third finger, wondering how quickly you’ll have him reaching his next high, and for how much longer he could go after that, but with the state you’ve put him in so far, there’s really only one thing left you desperately want to do.

“I’ll wreck you so good, my pretty boy,” you breathe at the shaking mess that he is. “So, so good.” When you feel he’s ready for the toy strapped to your hips, you finally pull out and you grant him a few seconds to catch his breath - though you’re sure at this point even hours wouldn’t be enough for him to regain his senses - and as you push up into him from behind, he cries out. His desperate noises alone could make you cum again, and as that thought crosses your mind, you reach over for a pillow, placing it underneath his lower stomach so his cock would graze it with every single time you thrust in and out of him. And it makes him moan even when you’re still going slow to make sure you don’t hurt him in the beginning, and when you pick up your pace you catch a glimpse of some drool dripping down his chin and you know he’s really gone too far now. Still, with each of your movements a noise more desperate than the one before escapes him, and when you go harder it doesn’t take long for him to come undone one more time. His moan upon being fucked right to his next high gets stuck in his throat this time, and as tears start streaming down his face, you reach into his hair, tugging at the strands and then pressing him down face first into the blanket.

“Is that all you can take?” you ask mockingly. “So strong, and already down, huh?” Tearing at the dark brown locks, he lets you hear a pathetic noise when his face is lifted up from the soft fabric for a moment. You wait for a response, but no words leave his parted lips. “What? Too fucked out to talk now?”

“Mhmm…” A whimper is all he can give to tell you yes, and the surge of power flowing through you immediately after has you beginning to thrust again. “Ah…!” he hiccups, crying from all the sensations overwhelming his senses, and one more time you halt and say,

“Give me your color.” 

“...g-green…!” You can tell how much it took out of him to speak that one word, but the fact that he did, even when he’s this wrecked, even while he’s crying, only makes you feel even prouder of him, and simultaneously serves as your sign to destroy him some more. So, one more time, you begin to fuck into him, pressing him down into the mattress with him writhing in the pain and the pleasure underneath you, sobbing and whining and crying out.

“Shit… you’re so perfect… so perfect for me…” With the strap grazing your clit at just the right angle with each time your hips snap against his, your own greed to cum again mixes with all the other emotions the image unfolding right before your eyes causes, and you pick up the pace relentlessly. “Taking me so well… fuck… my perfect boy…” 

“A-ah…!” He cries out one more time before his body convulses, and he cums all over the pillow once more. Just a few more thrusts, and you too feel yourself tumbling over the edge, and finally, you slow down and come to a stop. 

“Did so well… come here…” you breathe after pulling out of him and letting him collapse on his stomach right then and there. You lay down behind him, loosening the blindfold to reveal a pair of reddened eyes, and you wrap an arm around his broad figure. With your thumb, you wipe the tear stains off his face, and you scatter a line of kisses from below his ear to his neck and all the way down his upper back as far as you can reach. “You feeling okay?” Jongho nods, albeit seeming very tired.

“Then I’m glad… wouldn’t want to hurt my amazing boy…” With the last remainder of strength left in his body, he turns around so he could face you, and you immediately pull him close to let him rest his head atop your chest. “I’m so proud of you,” you continue to shower him in praises, and then you add some more when you notice the weak smile creeping onto his lips. “You did amazing.”

“You too…” he eventually mumbles, and with one arm loosely placed around your upper body, he draws a few circles onto your side with his thumb. Combing your fingers through his hair and feeling him lean into your touch, you feel your heart swell at the sight.

“I love you.” You whisper the words so quietly, you think he wouldn’t have caught them, but then he places a lingering kiss onto your chest, and he breathes,

“I love you too.” And for a second you can feel all the fears and the anxieties creeping back up to you. However, when he opens his tired eyes and he glances up at you with the most fucked out and at the same time love drunk expression you’ve seen, the doubts wash away. 

Right, maybe you did find each other at just the right time, so you both could heal some of the scars in each other’s hearts. And maybe this time, you’ve both found someone who’s right for you.

“That’s a good boy!” you cheer as you pet your last client for the day on his sides. The bulldog wags his butt upon hearing your praise, panting in expectation over the treat he knows you’re hiding in your back pocket. You reach around for the piece of jerky all dogs get after their physiotherapy session is over, and you laugh as he greedily lunges towards it.

“Uh-uh,” you shake your head and lift your index finger in front of the dog’s face. “Sit. That’s a good boy.” The dog listens to the command obediently, and this time when you carefully hold out the treat for him, he takes it from you more gently. Well, a little more gently anyway. Smiling, you shake your head at the energetic pup, and then you get up off the floor and walk towards the door to let the owner inside.

“Thank you,” the young man tells you, before joyfully greeting his pet, his voice rising a few octaves and you find the image endearing. It always makes you the happiest to see how not only the animals, but also their owners seem to feel better after a session, having granted both of them relief from two different kinds of pain. You watch them walk out of the clinic together with a content smile on your face, before dedicating yourself to the last task of today’s shift: cleaning up. It takes you about half an hour to set up your office for a fresh start on Monday, and on your way out you greet your colleagues who are still standing by the reception counter chatting.

“See you next week!”

“Have a nice weekend!”

“You too!” You step outside into the warm air of late spring, and you take in a deep breath and close your eyes. You chose this profession because you knew you could thrive doing a job like this, continuously seeing payback for your efforts, and yet a full work week doesn’t leave you unfazed. Of course not, no matter how much someone likes their job, they’re bound to get exhausted from it from time to time - or that’s what your observations say.

“Y/N, hey.” You open your eyes to see Jongho standing in front of you, a smile full of adoration plastered onto his face, and you can’t help but return that same expression to him.

“Hey,” you greet him, hands in the pockets of the thin jacket you had thrown on in the morning, when it was still a bit colder. You notice you’re feeling a little too warm with layered clothing now, wondering if you should take off the jacket after all. “How was your day?”

“Ah, you know,” he looks to the side. “The usual.”

“Better if I don’t ask?”

“Better if you don’t ask, yeah,” he retorts, and there’s a hint of tiredness behind his smile. Jongho holds out his hand for you to take, and you don’t hesitate. “Let’s go?”

“Let’s. I’ve been starving,” you answer, and you intertwine your fingers with his as you begin to walk down the street.

“What about you? How was your day?”

“Good,” you say. “The grumpy chihuahua I told you about last time almost bit me again. But other than that it was good,” you chuckle, and instinctively Jongho lifts up your hand that he’s holding to check for any nicks or scratches. 

“You sure you didn’t get bitten?” he asks upon finding a bandaid on your other hand.

“Ah, that,” you exclaim as you arrive where he parked his car, and he opens the door for you to get in. “That’s from two days ago, actually.” He sits in the driver’s seat, and as soon as he’s shut the door on his side, he turns towards you, gesturing for you to give him your hand.

“It’s fine, really,” you assure, though you hold out the wounded hand to him anyway. “An angry cat scratched me, I’m used to-” Jongho lifts your hand up to his mouth, pressing a soothing kiss to the bandaid, and his eyes flutter shut while his soft lips linger. “Thanks,” you say eventually, watching him pull back and shooting you a serious look. He reaches out to cup your cheek in his palm, thumb brushing against the skin on your face.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt.” He says it with such gravity that it almost seems a little over the top for the situation - it is just a tiny scratch after all, and it’ll be all healed up in a week or so. And still, you know there’s so much more behind his words than just worry over your hand. 

And so you do the only thing you can think of in that moment, and you shoot him a sincere smile, saying, “I know. Thank you for looking out for me.” Wordlessly, he returns your expression, before letting go of you and instead putting on his seatbelt and bringing his hand up to the steering wheel. “So?” you switch topic. “Where are you taking me today?”

“Surprise,” Jongho says, starting the engine. “But I packed you some clothes in the backseat that I think would be fitting for the occasion.” He points to the back and you reach behind you to try to get a glimpse of the contents of the bag. You find a pair of dress pants, making you assume he’s planning on taking you somewhere expensive, and upon digging some more, you find yourself holding onto an embroidered sleeve in antique pink. You stop your rummaging, and before you know it, you’re grinning from ear to ear like an idiot as memories of the first time he took you out on a date come back to you. 

“Thanks for bringing them,” you say, sitting up straight, and you glance over to him, who’s focused on driving out of his parking space.

“Of course,” he answers, before he enters the road towards your destination. “I think you’ll have to get changed in the car though.”

“That’s fine, don’t worry about it,” you brush it off, staring out of the window as the lights of the bustling city pass you by. Right. You two sure have come a long way.

Taglist:

@aaa-sia @wooyoungisbaby @winklehwa @asianpenguin04

@certifiedmoa @bunnyluvr25

ღ click here to be added ღ

lyrics appearing in the story are from “Die With A Smile” by Lady Gaga and Bruno Mars

[writingfromasgard]

Manspreading [Ghost]

My blog is a 18+, minors be blocked regardless of what they interact with.

[Masterlist] || Requests are Open || GIF by hollow-epitaph

cw: unprotected sex, dirty talk, unedited writing

At the best of times, Simon "Ghost" Riley is like an old cat; finicky and reclusive. In the moments he isn't, where he craves your touch and can't seem to stand an inch of air between you two, he crowds you. He has his hands resting on your waist, chin resting on your shoulder while he watches you type away on your keyboard.

"Y'work too much, love."

You pause your typing to kiss his cheek, nearly finished with what you were working on. You know he wants your full attention right now but these changes are due by tomorrow afternoon and if you finish now, you can spend the rest of the night and part of tomorrow giving him what he wants. His hands squeeze down on your hips, a kiss pressed to your clothed shoulder.

Simon could be patient. He's waited days before in the same sniper position to get off a shot. He would distract himself like he was now, pressing his nose against your neck, inhaling deeply. Kissing whatever his lips could reach, fingers squeezing as he pleased. You're concentration didn't suffer any as long as he behaved.. a relative term as far he was concerned.

His hand snuck up your shirt, and a quick hug was all he wanted. You let him until his hand crept up your ribs. You pushed his hand back down to your hip with a firm squeeze.

"C'mon. I was only givin' you a hug." He says, nuzzling the back of your neck.

"Your hand was going higher than necessary for a hug, Simon."

Your fingers tap away, focus narrowing on the screen. It doesn't take long for his hand to slide down the top of your thigh, slowly guiding your legs apart. He buries his face in your neck, pressing feather-like kisses so as to not disturb you. With both hands on your thighs, he squeezes them, groaning in your ear. You stiffen on his lap, fingers freezing over the keys. You can feel the thickening bulge under you and sigh, saving your changes to close out the edits.

Your palms push against the edge of your desk, sliding the shared chair back from it. His drags you back down when you attempt to stand from his lap, grinding up against you slightly.

"I'm not fucking you in my office chair again." You peel off his hands, standing again.

"That so?" He gruffs, the tone in his voice unsettles you.

He wraps his arms around your waist, dread spreading in your stomach. You try your best not to flail, worried you'll damage your computer, when he hauls you with him. He tosses you slightly and you're bent over his shoulder now as he trots to the bedroom. You scream when he throws you on the bed, bouncing on the plush mattress. Your eyes are wide as he rolls his neck, eyes narrowed on your jostled form.

It's not often he's rough with you. His fingers dig into the waistband of your bottoms, jerking them down your legs hastily. He pushes your legs apart, spreading you by your knees. He licks over the front of his teeth, tilting his head. You feel more like a small animal as his belt jingles.

Simon draws his cock out, spitting on his palm to pump along the hardening length. His other hand sinks into the bed next to your hip as he leans forward, tip swiping over your slick folds. He teases your entrance, pushing the tip inside, stretching you around the fat head. His hands shift once he's done teasing, gripping your hips; a warning of what's to come.

You arch up off the bed, choking on the air leaving your lungs, as his hips snap forward. "Simon!"

"I know, love. You're struggling to handle it like you always do." He laughs low and rough, drawing his hips backward.

Your legs cling to his waist, hands reaching for his shoulders, preparing for his next thrust. He plunges inside again, shifting to press his body weight on you while pistoning unforgivingly into your body. The bed creaks under his movements, your body jolting with each thrust he gave you. You whined, digging your nails into his shoulders, dragging them down his bicep.

His groan is deep, right up against your ear, "Body was made f'me. Be a good girl and fuckin' take it."

His arms dig between the mattress and your body, using it to drag you down to meet his hips. His face buried in your neck, the slick sounds of his cock plunging into you filling the room. The muscles in your stomach clench, his name starting to leave your throat hoarse from how loud you were being.

You can hear him encouraging you, complimenting how well you're able to handle him when he's like this. Sweat dampens the sheets underneath you, the air growing a little too hot, his guttural growls dragging you closer to the edge.

"Simon, please!" Your voice shaking as the intensity builds.

Simon's fingers dig into your skin, leaving an painful ache. "You gonna cum f'me? Gonna squeeze down on my cock so i can paint your insides?"

He grinds his cock into you, that fat head of his cock nudging the perfect spot inside you. Tension snaps in your body, a wave of bliss that's almost as painful as it is pleasurable hitting your cock-drunk brain.

His hips lose their rhythm until he stops thrusting all together, sinking deep into your warmth with a strangled groan of your name. You feel a bit more weight on top of your body, hot breath hitting your ear. It's several moments before he's able to unwrap himself from you, gently pushing your legs to unhook from his waist.

Simon rolls off, laying beside you with his breathing evening out slowly. He clears his throat, opening it to speak, "Bloody hell, we're going to get another noise complaint."

[fromduck]

A Guided Hand

(Yandere Ghost x Horror Protagonist! Reader)

Tw: Gore

-unedited-

-I’m thinking about a Ghost who’s stalking this ditzy shy girl as she explores the haunted mansion where he resides in.

-He’s a scary Eldritch being, freakishly tall with eyes ripped from his skull. Long and thin arms that almost drag down to the floor. Long black hair that remains smooth and sleek despite his dirty appearance. His jaw hanging to his skull for dear life, he always has to readjust the darn thing to his annoyance.

-He walks slowly, dragging his feet almost like a zombie. He thinks it’s the damage his psyche endured when he was murdered. His killer didn’t hold back when he killed him, his brutality carrying onto the after life.

-He’s used to the scary environment where mad people wonder the halls, malicious spirts lurking in each shadow and monsters roam freely. All of them hunting down humans who mistakenly find themselves in the mansion.

-The others may find a thrill in the game of cat and mouse. But as someone who was a former human and victim, he finds no joy in doing what someone else did to him.

-So imagine his surprise at encountering a girl who is easy to scare and hides in the corner when shit hits the fan.

-He thinks you’re real cute and loves to scare tease you to death.

-Tugging on your hair, pinching your waist, blowing in your ear—-the bastard even flips your skirt up! Which never fails to make you scream or make you drop your flashlight.

-He can’t help it! He just loves your cute reactions!

-He just wants to pick you up and spin you around. Smush your cute chubby cheeks together!

-It doesn’t hurt that you smell really nice. Your sweet smell a nice change from the stench of death that permeates the mansion.

-But what he doesn’t like is when the other occupants of the house are hunting you down.

-He serves as your protector keeping you safe from all the other malicious beings of the mansion.

-When a crazed man holding a chainsaw came running at you and you went into shock out of fear, he had jumped into the murderer’s body.

-Possessing him was easy and so was driving the chainsaw into his belly. Killing the man instantly.

-Sure you might have passed out from the sight of gore, but at least you were safe!

-Along with protecting you, he does other things to help you.

-Guiding you in the right direction as you navigate through the dark hallways. Tugging on your shirt to go in the safe path with less monsters. As if to silently say, ‘this way.’

-Watching guard over you as you sleep curled up in hidden space.

-When your fear gets the better of you and you’re frozen with terror, he’ll give you a hug that you don’t feel. Even though you can’t see or hear him, you can feel his comforting presence and that serves to calm you down.

-You look around whenever he does that, and his deceased heart breaks when he realizes you’re looking for him. For the comforting presence that takes care of you.

-You recognize his presence and even labeled him your ‘guardian angel’, to his amusement.

-He really likes you and can you blame him for getting attached?

-He’s just looking for ways on how to speak with you. How to make it possible for you to see him. For him to touch you freely without having to concentrate really hard. He’d die another brutal death if he’d be allowed to run his grey fingers through your soft skin.

-He’s a ghost fallen in love with a mortal. And he’d do anything for you.

-It’s safe to say that when you leave this haunted place, he’ll be coming along with you 🤍

[words-4u]

don’t shut me out - j.l

pairing: jordan li x f!reader

wc: 766

a/n: i combined the two requests bc they felt kinda similar but i hope you guys enjoy <3

(NOTE: your super power is the ability to transform into any animal you want)

you stared at the last message you sent jordan.

to j 💗 i miss u. text me when u see this pls

you had sent that text at 8 pm last night and it was almost noon the next day and you still hadn't heard back from them. sighing deeply, you locked your phone, stuffing it in to your backpack.

is it me? did i do something? you thought.

it might seem over the top reacting this way but jordan is so communicative especially at night so it was off brand for them to go ghost like this. you were going through the different possibilities in your head as walked the god u campus to get to your next class, you had almost missed your friend calling your name.

“hey, y/n!” 

you looked up and saw cate beckoning you over to a table she’s at with andre.

“hey guys,” you said with no excitement which the blonde found weird.

“did your cat die or something? what’s up?” she asked patting the seat in between her and andre.

you huffed and set your bag on the table and your head on andre’s shoulder.

“okay this is gonna sound so stupid but i’ve been texting jordan all night last and all morning today and i haven’t heard so much as a peep from them. i know the messages are going through, i just don't know why they're ignoring me”

“oh y/n. you haven’t heard,” andre begins. ”jordan’s parents are in town. we don’t know much about them but we know they are jordan’s least favourite topic.”

“i mean they’ve told me the basics but…” you trail off.

if their parents are in town then that explain why they’ve been so hard to reach. jordan's parents have never understood them, even worse, their parents have always made them feel ashamed of their powers which is ridiculous because it was them who chose to inject their kid with compound V and take that risk.

"guys i’ve got to go,” you said grabbing your bags and transforming into an eagle, flying off to jordan's student accommodation.

you knock rapidly on your partner’s door, once you arrive. “jordan, open up!”

silence.

you grabbed your vphone out of your bag and checked the “find my” app. “i can literally see that you’re in there so either you open this door and let me in or i turn into a mouse and squeeze myself in… your choice.”

you hear some metal clanging and something unlocked and in a second you were faced with your gorgeous significant other who looked like they have been crying their eyes out.

no words needed to be said between you before you dropped your bag and pulled them into your arms, rocking them side to side.

you let a few moments pass before you spoke. “why didn't you just tell me?”

“i’m sorry,” they said pulling away. “i... fall into this pit of self hatred when my parents come around.”

you guided them to the bed and played with their fingers as you shared your thoughts. “you know i thought you were ignoring cause i might've done something to piss you off or something…”

“no, baby” they whispered. “it’s not you. like at all. it’s them. they… they’ve never accepted my full powers. the girl version anyway. to my parents, i’m their golden boy and nothing else. i came to god u and swore that i would never feel ashamed of myself and would never be forced to choose one gender like my parents desperately want.”

“that’s a lot to carry by yourself, jord,” you move their short black bob out of their face and tuck it behind their ear. “i’m here if you ever need to talk. about any of it.”

“i know,” they smiled softly.

“and for what it’s worth i like…all of you,” you confessed which made jordan put on their sexy grin that you fell for.

“is that right? and which parts of me do you like?” they asked switching to their male form and placing you on their lap.

“hmm now that i think about it, i actually can’t remember,” you stroked your chin jokingly.

“how about i make you remember?” they replied, capturing your lips in an over due kiss. you breathe them in as you run your hands through their short hair.

you pulled away still holding their face in your hands. “promise to tell me when things bother you, big or small okay? i don’t want you to shut me out.”

jordan nodded, whispering, “i promise,” before kissing you once more.

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Catstarion

Sorry for the slow uploads, been going out with friends and working for a bit but here's the next one, inspired by @bg-brainrot's post here. Thank you for the idea!

As you set your cup down, ready for another round of wine, you sense something, no, someone staring intently at you. Turning around, you find Astarion standing at the stairs leading up to the rooms, ruby red eyes piercing into your very soul as he stares, arms resting on the banister.

You’ve known him long enough to know what this means so with a sigh, you thank the bartender for his hospitality, excuse yourself from your increasingly drunk group of companions and head over to the stairs.

The vampire grins when he sees you approaching, gently pulling you to one side by your arm.

“Already turning in for the night, my sweet?” His fingers trail up your arm, lips whispering in your ear. The tips of your ears burn, feeling his words ghost over them.

“So it seems,” you reply. “Care to join me?”

The corners of his lips curve upwards, a sparkle in his eyes as he takes your hand in his, intertwining your fingers and gently takes the lead, thumb running over the back of your palm. His wordless answer brings a small smile to your face and you let him guide you, annoyance left at the bar counter.

He turns the corner and opens the door to his room, ushering you in before closing the door behind him. He remains standing at the door as you make your way to the bed, getting comfortable before patting the spot next to you but he doesn’t move.

Raising an eyebrow, you tuck yourself under the covers before patting the pillow next to yours and yet he refuses to budge. Well, third time’s the charm, right? You open your arms and he immediately shoots over, burying himself in your embrace. Amused, you chuckle, which sends reverberations through him. He happily hums in response, shifting so that you have easy access to the entirety of his hair and grabs one of your hands, dropping it on the top his head.

“Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten,” you snort as you begin to run your fingers through his soft white curls. He lets out a sigh of contentment, basking in the familiar rhythm of your fingers combing his locks, massaging his scalp along the way. The gentle movements start to lull him into a trance and he feels his eyes begin to close, his grip on your clothes loosening but then you do the unthinkable.

You shift.

Immediately his eyes snap open and he turns to glower up at you. You raise your hands in surrender, eyeing him warily as he scowls.

“My love, please do not interrupt my trance again.”

“Sorry, won’t happen again.”

“It better not.”

With a huff, he turns, stretching out across your legs like a cat before curling back up, feeling your fingers continue their movements through his hair. He loves it when you do this, when you let him trance whilst resting on you without making a single fuss even though you have little to no intention of going to sleep yourself. He loves how you don’t mind carving out time for him amidst your busy schedule, you could always ignore him until you were done drinking but you always responded to his call, putting aside your own needs and wants for him. He knew he could ask anything of you and you would do it, without crossing the boundaries the both of you had set at the start of your relationship of course.

To him, you always had something better to do than attend to his petty whining but to you, he always came first and he still couldn’t fathom why. Maybe one day he would, perhaps if he sat you down and talked to you about it, he would understand, but that would be after The Absolute was defeated and the worms were removed. He was becoming more positive about the party’s prospects in a fight against The Absolute, although he preferred hiding such feelings.

As your fingers continue to work their magic in his hair, his thoughts drift to the many ways you’ve upended his life. You’ve shown him what it means to love, what it means to be genuine, what it means to care about others. You’ve added to his life, and changed things that were already in his life. You’d made it your whole mission to help him associate actions that once caused him pain and misery with something more pleasant, the only reason why he could slip into a trance whilst you ran your fingers through his hair. Back then, such an action always came with —

Cough.

Astarion groans, reaching up to poke your cheek, “I’m trying to trance here, love. A little peace and quiet would be nice.”

“Sorry,” you pout, giving him the puppy dog eyes he can never resist and he lets the matter slide, returning back to his thoughts and attempt to trance.

You’re always careful to not pull his hair, with knots always being gently untied either with your fingers or a comb should one be nearby. You’re also the only one he trusts to take care of his hair, whether it be washing or helping to maintain it.

He feels you rest your free hand on his waist, the warmth from your palm spreading through his cold undead body and feels the urge to slip into a trance wash over him once more. Knowing he is safe in your arms, for nothing will be able to hurt him when you’re around, he lets the urge take hold, readying himself for whatever nightmares could plague his rest.

That is if you didn’t sneeze right there and then.

Astarion clicks his tongue, refusing to even open his eyes and exclaims, “Gods, how am I supposed to trance in these conditions?”

He buries his face into your thighs, putting up a dramatic show of angrily muttering under his breath while you apologise, struggling to hold in your laughter.

“Come on Astarion. If you want to trance properly, you should’ve just told me to go to sleep!”

“But then you wouldn’t be able to do…this!” He gestures vaguely in the direction of your hand which is still buried beneath his white curls, letting out yet another huff.

“You’ll have to choose one then, Star. I can’t seem to do both.” There’s mirth in your voice and for a moment Astarion wonders if you’re just toying with him but then the look in your eyes reassures him and he lets out a sigh of resignation, sitting up so that you can get into a comfortable position to sleep.

“Fine. Sleep next to me, my love.” He wraps you in a cocoon made from his arms, nuzzling into your neck and feels his fangs press against your skin — the only barrier between him and your blood. Yet you don’t flinch, trusting that he will only bite after asking you for permission and snuggle against him under the covers.

“Stop spending so much time with them,” you hear him mumble. So that was why he was acting so weirdly all night.

“You have me all to yourself every night, don’t you worry.” You press a peck to the top of his head, tucking him tighter against your body.

“And you’ll have me for all eternity too.”