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aklaustaleteller · 4 months

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@ghayda0 requested via submission: Hi, please ignore if you’re not taking requests. Klaus is out all day. Literally from morning to midnight and when he comes back, Y/N is very pissed at him and giving him the silent treatment. At first Klaus’s amused by her actions, thinking Y/N is just being bratty but when she starts tearing up, maybe mid argument, he sees that’s she’s genuinely hurt. Maybe it was their anniversary or her birthday and he forgot. Can be smutty if you want to be, I mean he has to make it up somehow ;)

Entirety of Eternity

Waiting and waiting for Klaus to return home, Y/n's grasp on reality soon slipped and she fell into a sad, sad slumber. But then Klaus finally comes back, and he doesn't know what he's done wrong -- and Y/n won't tell him. Until she does, shouting at him how the night clearly wasn't anything special to him. And now, all Klaus wants is to show her just how much she, and their relationship, truly mean to him.

Warnings - Smut and some mentions of blood. Word Count - 3.3k

Not super proud of the way I wrote this one, but I'm pretty certain that it isn't that bad (please tell me it isn't) And thank you for requesting this -- I hope you enjoy reading it!

Y/n was sat on one end of the dining table, her face resting in her quite sweaty palms as she waited for her ears to finally perk up at the sound of the front door to the mansion opening. But it was beginning to cross the two-hour mark and still, there was no sound.

Every once in a while, the sound of her earrings' tiny bells would chime in her ears as she'd change her position to get more comfortable. At least as comfortable as she could on a wooden chair.

A deep wine-red dress adorned her body, pooling on the ground around her feet as she sat. Delicate jewellery hung from her ears, her wrists and a dainty necklace rested just below her collarbone. Sighing defeatedly, she let her head lay atop her arms on the dining table, looking at the polished plates in front of her and then at the empty seat across from her.

Tonight was nothing special, at least not to Klaus considering the fact that he had yet to return home. But it was to her. After all, this was the day that he had turned into a hybrid himself, and then turned her into one as well – justifying it with the purpose that he just wanted to spend the rest of eternity with her.

This was just the fifth year, and already he was forgetting their anniversary.

Maybe this wasn't so special after all. But when you've got the entirety of eternity on your hands, surely you'd try and celebrate as many occasions as possible to keep things special and ...to keep their value.

The clock rang throughout the empty house, finally hitting one in the morning and he still wasn't standing across from her. And she was getting too close to doubting if he even will tonight.

And even if it wasn't so special to him, shouldn't he have listened to her when she'd so excitedly told him to return home early tonight as she'd have something special waiting for him? Wouldn't matter anymore because all the food that she'd cooked herself had gone cold, and the candles she'd set up had burned down to the wick.

The dust had begun to settle on the exposed crockery, the moon had hidden itself behind the clouds and her heart had begun wilting away inside her chest.

She didn't quite realise when her hold on reality slipped and she fell into a sad slumber, but she woke up to the feel of a hand on her arm and a soft voice coaxing her back to life.

"There you are, my darling," Klaus smiled, already kneeling beside her so he was face to face with her. "Why didn't you go to bed?"

Y/n looked at him with eyes that were screaming how could he have the guts, the audacity to ask her that and so callously pretend that he hadn't just come home past midnight despite her sweet request that went against his act.

But when her shouts fell on deaf ears, she simply turned the other way from where Klaus was sitting and stood up. "The dinner's gone cold... I'd suggest you warm it up before eating, it'd taste better," she told him as she walked up the stairs, her gaze empty but her blood heating up rapidly.

Klaus looked at her as she walked away, amusement filling him up to the brim at her antics. Yes, she'd asked him to return early but it was for no special occasion, and he'd gotten himself in a rather sticky situation, so why was she upset out of the blue?

He was even sure that she his reasoning in someone's red blood covering him from head to toe, beginning to dry up. And he wished that she'd clean him up like every other time, so he decided to eat first. Give her some time to change her clothes and get comfortable for the night before he could go over to her and ask her innocently to help him clean himself off.

So he sat and ate, his eyes closing every once in a while at the feeling of the home cooked meal filling him up with all the love he could digest.

Rinsing off his dishes, Klaus sped up the stairs and into the bedroom he shared with Y/n as her lover, a frown settling itself between his brows when he caught her sitting in front of the vanity, lost in some thought as she glared at a broken lipstick.

"What's wrong, my love?" Klaus asked her, concern lacing his voice as he walked over to her, placing his hands on her shoulders as he locked his eyes with hers in the mirror.

His frown only deepened further when she didn't reply and began removing her jewellery, looking at him with big eyes trembling with fury. He didn't move, not until she was getting up and moving towards the bed, which had him following her hot on her heels.

"C'mon, it's not the right time to be a brat, sweetheart," Klaus joked, chuckling to himself but stopped when she shot him a look sharp enough to make him flinch.

"Just tell me what's happened!" Klaus insisted, kneeling in front of her and holding her hand, ignoring the fact that she didn't weave her fingers through his' and pick his hand up to press a kiss on his knuckles like she usually did.

"Where were you?" She asked, forcing her voice to be at a bay.

"Well, some newbies truly thought that they could have my head on a sword for them to take home to their master,” he chuckled. “And their plan was quite impressive, dare I say,” shrugging he said, passing her a grin which, expectedly, wasn’t reciprocated.

“I apologise for not coming home earlier,” he sighed. But he knew that she knew that he truly wasn’t, for he didn’t even yet realise the density of this grave mistake he had made. And when she continued with her silence, Klaus finally cracked.

“It’d not as if tonight’s anything special!”

And right then, Y/n heard something crack inside her. Possibly her dead heart.

“I know you wanted me to return early tonight and I’m sorry that I didn’t, I truly am!” He almost whined, trying to show her how unreasonable she was being as he started pacing the room. “But this has happened before and you’ve never been this upset, so just tell me what have I done wrong!”

He felt quite embarrassed once he was done shouting due to her lack of response, and sighed once more before walking towards her.

“It was our anniversary,” she started, quickly glancing at the clock, “yesterday.”

Klaus stopped in midst of his way to her, his heart dropping in his stomach as he finally found himself at a loss of words. His mouth moved, but nothing came out except for some incoherent stutters.

“Forget it. It was nothing special,” she gritted through her teeth, not wanting her anger to get the best of her but she could feel it slipping out of her grasp.

“Darling – I,” Klaus stuttered, looking at the floor, wishing it’d remind him how to speak. “I’m so sorry darling,” Klaus breathed, his gaze turning doe-eyed as the realisation set in.

“No you’re not!” Y/n shouted, getting off the bed to walk towards him. “You are not sorry, Klaus. You clearly don’t care!”

Hot tears were lined up against her lower lashline, making it hard for her to see clearly.

“You were showing that last night meant nothing to you for so long and you even said it! It was no special occasion!” She yelled, her voice shaking as her brain debated whether she was trying to convince herself about that, or him.

And the way she was talking about their anniversary in a way that it truly had passed and that it was the next day, was only breaking his heart worse.

“Darling our anniversary means the world to me,” he desperately said. “I’d just carelessly forgotten about it but please don’t think that it doesn’t mean anything to me,” he whispered, his eyes aching to meet with hers but she just wouldn’t let it happen, looking to the side.

But the moment those words left his mouth, a bitter chuckle escaped her mouth as she finally looked him in the eyes.

“Can you hear yourself Klaus?” She asked him, shaking her head. “If it did mean anything to you, you wouldn’t have forgotten about it!” She told him, fisting her hand to prevent herself from ripping her hair out of her scalp.

“Please let me make it up to you, darling,” Klaus begged, his own tears threatening to spill. “I’d been a bastard to do such a thing but please let me show you how much you mean to me,” his voice went meek as he lowered his head to meet her eyes. “How much this,” Klaus whispered, motioning his hand to point at her and then at himself, “means to me,” he finished, cautiously cupping her face in his rough hands.

And he breathed in relief when she leaned into his touch, a tear rolling down her cheek.

“I cooked us a meal, lit up candles and I only wore this dress so you could take it off,” she admitted, a tinge of pink rising on her cheeks, betraying her sadness. “And you just had to go and mess everything up,” she sighed, closing the distance between them and wrapping her arms around him, clinging to his torso while resting her face in the cervix of his neck, ignoring the dried blood that covered his clothes and exposed skin.

“And I’m so sorry darling,” he mumbled, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I swear I’ll never do something like this again,” he smiled, swaying them side to side.

Y/n detached herself from him then, her hair a bit ruffled due to his touch. “Please don’t,” she chuckled, pressing a quick kiss on his lips before weaving their fingers together and walking towards the bathroom.

“You better not show up some day covered in your own blood,” Y/n warned him as she sat him on the bathroom counter and wetted a towel.

She began wiping the blood off of him with ease, having done this a million and more times by now. And she’d just wiped down his neck when she realised that he had way more blood on him that she’d expected, and some in his hair as well.

“Why don’t you just take a shower? You genuinely have blood everywhere, hell it’s even in your hair,” she laughed and didn’t wait for his answer as she went on to turn on the shower and nodded her head at him, urging him to get in already.

“You’re not joining me, are you?” Klaus asked, teasingly and nervously.

“You wish, don’t you?” She grinned before walking out, her ears picking up on him mumbling how she very well knew that he did.

And Y/n had just been sitting on the bed, waiting for him when he finally walked out of the shower, in a towel that hung dangerously low on his hips. And his drenched curls stuck to his forehead while water shone off of his chiselled chest, a teasing smirk on his mouth as he looked at her while she took him in.

He began walking towards her, a certain glint in his eyes as he watched her shut off the book in her lap and place it on her bedside table. Once he stood beside her, he took her hands in his and began moving so that she’d stand up and walk with him.

Leaning in, he hovered his mouth over hers before tilting his head slightly so that he was whispering in her ear.

“You said you’d only worn this dress so I could take it off… yes?” He asked her, beginning to sway the two of them across the room, listening in to hear her heartbeat picking up while her heavy breath fanned his neck.

Y/n hummed in response, her eyes fluttering close when he began pressing feather light kisses up her neck. She looked at him with intrigue when he stood the both of them in front of the mirror, looking at her with the slightest smirk from behind.

“Gonna still let me take you up on that offer, darling?” he asked, his fingers dancing across her shoulders until she nodded her head, and whispered a small yes.

“Gonna let me show you how much truly special you are to me?” He asked again, clearly teasing her as he fingers travelled to her back. He pressed his mouth against her jaw when she nodded again, eyes still on her in the mirror as he began nipping at her skin, leaving behind the very first hickey.

He undid the chain of the dress, letting it slump off of her torso and expose her naked breasts to him. No bra, he grinned, licking the bruising skin on her jaw as a blush creeped up on the highs of her cheeks.

From behind, his hands slithered across her skin, from her back to now her breasts, flicking the hardened nipples as he littered love bites all over her neck.

He made sure that while he touched her, his eyes remained locked with hers. She knew after so many years with him that he preferred eye contact during such intimate moments, that he preferred to see how much effect he had on her – how he had her at his mercy just by touch.

“Klaus,” she breathed with pleading eyes and let her head fall against his chest as he began to force the rest of her dress to slip off of her figure.

“Darling,” Klaus smiled, turning her around once she’d stepped out of the dress that was merely a pool on the floor now. He picked her up, bridal style and walked over to their bed, laying her on it gently unlike other times when he’d roughly toss her on it. After all, he had some apologising to do tonight.

Moving to hover above her, Klaus resumed his kisses and marks, slipping lower and lower on her body until her fingers were clutching his curls while he bit lightly on the lowest point of her stomach.

“Stop all this teasing now, Klaus,” Y/n asked of him, propping herself up on her elbows to look at him with a rather scolding look as he looked back at her with mischievousness swimming in his eyes.

“Only because I’m truly sorry,” Klaus grinned at her, teasing her for the final time before he pressed his mouth against her aching core, licking up her hole to her clit, spreading her arousal before he could actually begin.

Y/n’s breathing hitched and a moan escaped her mouth when she felt him increase his pace a bit. His fingers dug into the skin on her hips as he kept his hold tight on her, forcing himself as close to her pussy as he could, his nose breathing in her scent and tongue lapping up her wetness.

“Oh Klaus,” she whined when he shifted all his attention on her clit, sucking on it until he began feeling a tremor coursing through her thighs.

He went back to licking up her arousal then, wanting to prolong her orgasm to give her a good one instead. And his own grunts began to vibrate against her core when he began to rub against the bed, causing her arousal begin dripping down his chin.

“You taste fucking amazing, darling,” he told her as he pushed a finger inside her with ease, quickly adding another one at the realisation of just how open and ready he’d got her dawned on him.

Y/n mewled above him, her moans turning into louder groans as he pushed himself against her core again, flicking her clit with his tongue while pumping his fingers inside her at a fast pace. Her eyes fell shut as the knot in her belly began to move lower and lower, a pleasing and burning sensation coursing through her body, causing her to begin shaking.

Her thighs instinctively closed shut around Klaus’ head, her hands pushing against his head to get away from him, making him increase his pace even more.

“Klaus, please!” She cried out to him, begging for release while her back arched off the bed, her eyes flying open when Klaus detached his mouth from her, keeping his fingers at work regardless.

“Look at me,” he breathed, her arousal smeared across his mouth, along with a couple strings connecting his mouth and her core.

And he went right back to messing with her now puffy clit once he had her eyes on him. Noises of his tongue licking her up and down began to fill the room along with the ones coming from him fingering her, and her hips stuttered to move just once more before she was crying out, trying with all her might to get away from his mouth as she grew more and more sensitive as he made her ride out her orgasm.

Klaus finally stopped after a couple more kitten licks then, crawling back up to her to kiss her. And he had just cupped her jaw when she flipped them over, now straddling his naked hips as the towel remained lying near the foot of the bed.

And she began lining his hardened cock against her pussy, slowly sinking down on him until he was fully inside her. She placed her hands on top of his which were situated on her waist and then she began moving up and down, increasing her pace with each jump.

“Only because I’m forgiving you,” she lazily grinned at him, making him chuckle hoarsely.

Klaus’ hands slowly slithered up her torso then, and cupped her breasts as their bouncing in his face was going to make him reach his high embarrassingly fast.

And when he noticed her pace slowing down, he placed his hold back on her waist to hold her in place while he thrusted up into her, fucking her well enough for her to lean forward and hover over him with her eyes clenched shut.

“Fucking hell,” Klaus gritted as her breasts were now back in his face, bouncing so prettily that he couldn’t help but take one of her nipples in his mouth to tease her into another orgasm now.

“Oh I’m gonna cum again,” she moaned close to his ears, and it was enough to make him slip his hand between their connected bodies and rub her clit, all while he felt himself growing closer and closer to tipping over the edge himself.

“Give it to me darling – give it to your husband,” Klaus groaned as he felt her walls clench around him, her orgasm slipping past her entrance and onto the base of his cock, making him spill inside her with a loud moan.

Making a few more deep and hard thrusts, Klaus finally stopped, his head thrown back in pure ecstasy as Y/n laid on top of him, wrapping her arms around his torso.

“I fear you’ll need another shower, Klaus,” Y/n giggled, laughing harder when he sped both of them into the bathroom, and turned on the shower, kissing her with a wide grin on his own mouth.

“Please buy more dresses just for me to take them off, my love,” Klaus told her, his teasing grin turning into dropped jaw when her arse brushed against him, eliciting an even deeper moan from him when she pressed herself further into him and began peppering kisses across his chest, nipping at the skin every once in a while just to hear him hiss.

“For the entirety of eternity, yes?” She grinned, yelling in surprise when he pushed her against the wall and pressed his mouth on hers, mumbling a hoarse ‘yes’ as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

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ch3rriiii-bunn · 1 year

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Quiet & shy

It's always the shy and quiet ones who are the freakiest🙈‼️

Warnings: smut, female bodied reader, sub reader, public sex, oral (m receiving- giyu), fingering, nipple play (Aizetsu), size kink (gyomei), praising & Degrading, shy doms, mean dom yushiro, cum play, breeding (?), plesure dom mitsuri

Aizetsu

Aizetsu, who loves to have you away from others just to have his hands on your tits. His confidence still isn't as high when he has you alone with him and will hide his face between your boobs but is still very bold when he has his way with you

Aizetsu, who can't keep his tongue off of your nipples, Grouping and squeezing your boobs while sucking on your nipples through your shirt until their poking out and even being see through from the wet spots

Aizetsu who sucks on your nipples until their swollen as he snaps his hips harshly to fuck his cock into your tight, wet pussy, whimpering and moaning on your boobs from how tight you get every time he teases and plays with you nipples and even leaving hickeys on your boobs

Aizetsu who says "You look so pretty marked up like this. It makes me happy." Hell, say and fuck you harder holding your hands to watch your boobs bounce and hearing your loud desperate moans "a-am I hitting the right spot? Does it feel good? Tell me how good I'm making you feel, please. I want to see you cum on my cock s-so let me hear you"

Aizetsu who thrusts his hips slowly to fuck his cum back inside you after cuming to make sure none leaks out

Mitsuri

Mitsuri who can be so flustered and shy so easily but is the same one holding your leg over her shoulder as she grinds her pussy on yours, having the most control

Mitsuri who just wants to make you feel so good and will even edging herself just to make you cum as many times as she can. Her boobs will press down on your chest making you gasp out from the pressure but also giving you satisfaction from her nipples rubbing on yours

Mitsuri who kisses your jawline and says "y-youre making me feels so good, your wet pussy feels so good on mine i wanna cum with you this time y/n" she'll say with whines in between "oh no don't cry dose it feel good? Don't worry, I-i'll make it better"

Mitsuri who pushes your legs back after you've came just to have her mouth on your pussy lapping at you mess.

Nakime

Nakime who only speak unless she's spoken too likes to have you in a secluded area in the infinity castle just to have her fingers deep inside your pussy and watch you go dumb on her fingers

Nakime who can't help but smirk when you try to muffle your moans when her fingers curl in the right spot. She'll rub her thumb on your clit to have you a whimpering mess and fingers you faster

Nakime who says "I know what a dirty slut you can be for me darling. Don't hide that pretty voice from me" she'll say and kiss you "dose it turn you on when I take you like this in a place where someone could see? Your pussy is sucking my fingers in, not letting me go"

Nakime who will have you cumming on her fingers and then pull them out to lick your cum clean off her fingers. "Good girl"

Yoriichi

Yoriichi who is calm but also has an obsession for you're ass. He can't help himself from always being behind you and having his hands on your hips just to press himself against your ass and will tell you it's just to keep you close to him

Yoriichi who can't wait until he gets home to fuck you and convinces to you to go into the forest with him, where has you up against, taking you from behind

Yoriichi who says "forgive me, I couldn't wait any longer. You feel so good y/n" he says and rubs at your clit making you clench on cock harder and covers your mouth with shaking legs. "Hold out for me a little longer, my pretty girl"

Yoriichi who moans deep, but quiet in your ear so you two won't get caught and pulls out to cum on your ass. He'll grab you're ass to spread your cheeks, taking a good look at the mess and bite his lip "can we try anal?"

Gyomei

Gyomei who is so gentle and soft spoken but loves to have you go down on his thick cock after a longs day of being a hashira to relieve some stress.

Gyomei who uses his large hands to keep your legs open and feel how his big cock stretches your pussy out and how you cream on his cock everytime you take him deeper

Gyomei who says "You take it so well every time. it makes me so proud of you" he'll say with a grin on his face and his hand on your fucked out face "are your legs getting tired? Here I'll help you" he says having his hands under your ass to bounce your whole body on his cock

Gyomei kisses you're tears away as he cums inside you holding you tight while giving you back rubs

Yushiro

Yushiro, who is hot-tempered and will only stay quiet and calm if tamayo, checks him, but when tamayo isn't around he makes you understand why you shouldn't test him to see how far he'll go

Yushiro who plays with your pussy until he has you begging for him. He'll rub his tip on your throbbing clit, edging you on and putting his cock inside your soaked pussy but have you whining when he takes it completely out doing it over and over again

Yushiro who will chuckle at your need. "You think you can get away with being a brat just because Lady tamayo is around, mm? It's not nice to tease others, isn't it?" he'll smirk and slap his cock repeatedly on your pussy "only good girls get what they want. Are you gonna be a good girl?" He says stroking his cock through your wet folds

Yushiro who makes it his goal to have you a squirting mess and then pulling his cock out just to cum all over your pussy.

Giyuu

Giyuu who is unbothered and quite but has you on your knees in front of him having your mouth full of his cock.

Giyuu who pushes your head down when he's close, feeling your hands grip onto his thighs and look at him with tears filling your water line

Giyuu who says "don't cry, you look so pretty for me" and wipe your tears with his thumb "gonna cum- fuck"

Giyuu who doesn't scold you for not drinking all his cum but likes when some makes a mess on your face and running down your chin. He'll clean your face with a handkerchief and give you a light smile "now lay back, my princess deserves a reward for being so good"

#demon slayer smut #kny smut #aizetsu x reader #aizetsu smut #gyomei smut #gyomei x reader #giyuu x reader #giyuu smut #mitsuri smut #mitsuri x reader #nakime x reader #nakime smut #yoriichi smut #yoriichi x reader

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theblueflower05 · 1 year

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Crawling Back to You

(Part Two of First Love/Late Spring)

A/N: So like, I’m really excited that you guys seem to be digging this story. I was hesitant about it just because there’s so much of my own Na’vi/Metkayina lore thrown in there. Thank you for all of the kind response.

Word Count: 8k+

Warnings: From here on out, this story will be extremely explicit. Minors DNI. If Aged Up! Neteyam isn’t your thing, please exit to your left. Let’s all respect each other's boundaries, please.

Angst. Self deprecation. Alcohol consumption. Smut. Mutual masturbation. Fingering(fem receiving). Nipple sucking. Breeding kink. Scent marking. Public sex(if you squinttttt)

Summary: Neteyam returns from his Motnaui and isn’t in much of a celebratory mood when he realizes that he’s scrapped any chance of having a mate for Fertility season…or has he? Neteyam x Reader

Series Masterlist(all parts can be found here)

Previous< First Love/Late Spring

Next>: Bottom of the Deep Blue Sea

Secret's that I’ve held in my heart

Are harder to hide then I thought.

Maybe I just wanna be yours- Artic Monkeys

The brilliant Pandoran sun beats down on the crystal blue waters, fragmenting into bursts of light under the surface of the waves.

The Motnaui is intense, Neteyam’s lean frame isn't made for the open ocean but over the months as he trained intensely with the Metkayina hunters, he gained muscle he didn't even realize his body could retain.

His shoulders are broader and thighs thicker. He can keep up with the clan, he can help row the boats without his arms giving out on him.

Neteyam hasn't felt this way since they had fled the safety of the forest. He’s useful again. He’s worked hard to regain his title of Hunter.

Warrior.

Brother of the people.

He sense’s it as they jump between the endless maze of isles. Hunting and sleeping on the beaches under the open night sky. Swapping stories around the small campfires.

They don't see him as an outsider anymore. No, he is Metkayina. All of the hunters treat him as such. Clapping his back. Embracing him tight. Sharing in the whopping joy as he makes a clean, merciful kill.

They listen to the Omaticayan legends he tells the and fill him in on the lore of the sea.

The four days out at open ocean are needed and he feels sure footed now. Knows that he will always have a place in Awa’atlu. He can't wait for Lo’ak to complete his Iknamaya next cycle, to get to feel this feeling of deep belonging. Of acceptance.

The tattoo forever etched into the the skin on his on his shoulder burns. Throbs all the way down his elbow, ends right above his wrist. The permanent swirling ink a symbol of his place among the reef.

His third birth is as beautiful as his second. He is a man, twice recognized.

Neteyam reminds himself of that fact as he sits down next to Tonowari one night. The stars are sparkling and the dimming light of the dying fire makes the hulking chief look larger than life.

Still, the younger man gathers his courage.

“I wish to mate with Y/N” Neteyam states firmly. He had been Olo’eyktan in training for over a decade back in the forest. He uses the voice he’d take on when speaking of important matters “I would like your blessing to do so, sir”

Their brothers and sisters in the hunt surround them. Either asleep at the late hour or lost to their own conversations.

Or maybe they just know not to interrupt this important exchange. They only listen in with peaked ears and envious hearts.

Tonowari’s features go stern, his strong brows pulling together “Before my T’smuke returned to the great mother, I promised her that I would always take care of her daughter as though she was my own. I love Y/N as I do my children. Do you understand that, Neteyam?”

Neteyam is nodding “Yes sir, of course”

“She is a good woman. A very important member of our community, if I allow this courtship I have to be certain that you will honor that. That you will honor her place among us, and be serious about what that means for your own”

Neteyam mules over the words, thinks he knows what they mean. He will be marrying into the royal family of the Metkayina. He will be bound by blood to the clans chief. His future children will have a claim to the title of Olo’eyktan or Tshaik, third in line should anything ever happen.

“I am very serious about her, I will work hard to give her all that she deserves. I will build us a Mauri to raise our family in. I will dedicate my life to her and the tribe” It is not a vow lightly made, Neteyam knows this.

He had never been one to be fickle about responsibility.

It’s only when the intense expression on the Olo’eyktans face shifts, a broad smile stretching across his mouth, that Neteyam feels his posture untense.

Tonowari claps him hard on the back and offers him the leather flask of strong liquor that the hunters pass amongst themselves-

“Then you have my blessing” Tonowari laughs as the younger Na’vi man almost chokes on the burn of the Kava.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

When they return to the main island of Awa’atlu with their abundant catch they are greeted warmly by the clan. The giant horns are blown, drums play rhythmically. Children scream joyously and women dance scantly clad in ceremonial drab.

Its busy and blustering but there's only one thing on Neteyam's mind.

Only one person.

The same woman who had plagued him since his arrival all those months ago. You’re as elusive as the receding tide and he had become accustomed to having to look for you. To having to seek you out in a crowd, to go searching for you.

You hadn't seen him off and he hasn't spoken to you in many days. He misses you. It's an ache that he wants to soon remedy, that he knows he’ll never have to feel again. Not with Tonowari’s blessing fueling him.

Since he was young, Neteyam had wanted to be bonded.

He’d dreamt of sharing that special connection with another individual; the way that his parents did. He craved someone to cherish him, to take care of him and in return he’d do the same for them. He itched for a woman to braid his hair, to bear his children. To bury his cock in every night and wake up to every morning.

He was a simple man with a big heart and a lot of love to give. And he wanted to give it to you.

He just has to find you first.

Neteyam tries not to worry when he can't catch sight of your petite frame. Not one peek of your long hair or seafoam eyes. He couldn't scent the natural perfume of florally herbs that always seemed to surround you-

“Neteyam!” It’s Tuk.

She collides with him hard. Many years of being a climbing post for his siblings is the only reason he doesn't topple over. Is able to catch her mid air and hold her to his chest.

He’s greeted by his family-

And only a moment passes before he can notice that something is wrong.

It’s written all over Kiri’s face. In his mothers expressive eyes and the glances his father throws him as he embraces the Olo’eyktan from across the way. Even Lo’ak gives him something akin to a small glare.

“Whatever is going on, it will have to wait” Neteyam decides out loud, slowly lowering his baby sister to the ground. “I need to find Y/N, have any of you seen her?”

Kiri’s mouth opens and shuts, as though she’s trying to figure out what to say and it frays his nerves. His legs are antsy, burning with the need to run. To seek you out- still on the high of the hunt.

“I don't have time for this-”

“Brother, wait. It is about Y/N” Kiri grabs his elbow, keeping him still.

He doesn't like her tone.

Likes the expression on her face even less. She looks too serious, it doesn't suit her at all. Kiri had always been as airy as a tree sprite- carefree and bubbly.

Call it a gut feeling or the simple ability to read the room. He just knows whatever she’s about to tell him isnt going to be pleasant.

“What happened?”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

His sister pulls him aside, into the mangrove tree’s and away from prying eyes and ears so that she can relay what she’d heard. Fill Neteyam in on what he’s missed.

He listens to every word…and they settle like stones in his stomach.

“Y/N thinks that you have accepted an offer of courtship from another woman”

“I didn't- I’d never!” Neteyam hisses in protest, shaking his head. It’s all one big misunderstanding. He has to make find you, shake these thoughts out of your head. Make you see-

“But you did,” Kiri replies firmly, her mouth pulled into a grim line.

She explains the meaning of the Lei’s.

The gravity of him accepting one from another female and Neteyam hasn't felt so small in many years. He’d been forced into adulthood early. Taken care of his siblings from a young age and then was thrust into the war with the RDA before he had even fully come out of adolescence. He was wise beyond his years, that’s what everyone had always told him.

He doesn’t feel that way now.

He’d fucked up, made a mistake that could very well cost him the future that he had worked so hard to secure since coming to the reefs-

And he hadn't even meant to! He’d been as naive as a baby, as ignorant to Metkayina traditions as an untrained child-

He wants to scream in frustration. Wants to kick the absolute shit out of himself. Instead he listens to his sister, his hands shaking as he balls them into fists.

You had been devastated. Heart broken. Wouldn't talk to anyone or come out to eat. Couldn’t stop crying-

“Enough” He pleads, he can't hear anymore of it. Guilt rises in his chest like bile.

Imagining what the last days had been like for you as he’d spend them having the time of his life, galivanting with other hunters. Getting drunk and having carefree fun-

“Kiri, what do I do?”

She sighs. It’s so rare to see her older brother like this. He’s always so solid. So strong and stable. It’s unnerving when he loses his composure. When his carefully built walls come down

She had known that the whole thing was a miscommunication and had tried along with Tsireya to convince you of that fact. But you wouldn't hear it, and avoided her at every turn.

You and her brother are both such stubborn dumb asses. Rubbing at her temples Kiri prays to Eywa for strength. Sully’s stick together.

“We fix this”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

As the evening eclipse starts and the sun disappears in the sherbert sky the beach lights up.

Bonfires roar, their flames tall and burning bright.

The air is filled with the smell of roasting Paokpak(island boar) and fish. Huge pots full of dishes that Neteyam had never seen line the long wooden table set up at the center of the celebration. Barrels of Kava have been brought out. The strongest of Metkayina liquors, brewed and stored for decades in airtight containers. Made from berries that are extremely hard to harvest.

This is a time for celebration, to gorge on the hard earned harvests the hunters have brought back. To celebrate the newly rited adults and prepare for the Fertility Season.

The beat of the drums is hypnotic. It's sexy and primal. It's a tune that all Na’vi know in their chest, one that their hips move to as if of their own accord.

Children play, Women sing, stories older then the briny deep are told. The air is electric; so full of magic and unity.

And yet, Neteyam is on edge.

He had been since his rude awakening earlier in the day. He’d spent his afternoon running around like an Austrapede with its head chopped off. Desperately trying to solve the issues that he hadn't meant to create.

After hunting down the culprit to all of this mess, a pretty lei made up of sunset orange lilies which he’d given to Tuk almost automatically after it’d been given to him, he returns it to its owner.

Seychelle is haughty. Rightly upset and shrilly confused as she takes the token of her affections back. Neteyam’s apology is poor and he knows it, he backs away before she can throw her drink in his face.

Tsireya had told him this was the only way to remedy the issue- to refuse the offer for courtship so that he could be open to be with another. The younger girl had been so relieved when he came to her, begging her to help him win back your affections.

“I knew you are a good man, that you don't have a mean spirit”

Tsireya is as eager as Neteyam to see her cousin happy. She doesn't think she could spend another night listening to your inconsolable weeping.

The last obstacle is the hardest.

You refuse to be anywhere near him. Are forced into the festivities because of your family standing, but pretend that Neteyam simply does not exist.

At every turn you evade him.

Sandwiching yourself between the hulking muscle of Ao’nung and Tonowari at the buffet table. Dancing in an enclosed circle of swaying women. Flitting away in a plume of smoke when he approaches you with your favorite ripe fruit in hand; leaving him standing there stupidly. Palms stained by the juice of the Lionberry as he squeezes it in frustration.

You’re hauntingly beautiful in the firelight.

He hates the fact that he’s not the only who notices it. The way the other males consume you with their carnivorous gazes makes him sick. His fingers clench and his knuckles crack of their own accord.

Long dark hair pours down your back in bouncing waves. The top that you wear clings to you like a second skin; the pearls and seashells glittering in the warm hue of the flames. Your own Lei, pink and pristine, is still resting on your throat. Many intricate bracelets and anklets clink as you walk and he cant take his eyes off of the way that the back of your tweng sits on your pert ass-

“Go talk to her” His dad suggests gruffly as he watches his son watch you. It’s getting hard to stomach at this point, all of that longing palpable and souring the atmosphere.

“She doesn't want to speak to me” Neteyam mutters. Trying not to feel too bad for himself. And failing.

Neteyam hadn't thought his return from Motonui would be like this. He’d envisioned a lot more kissing, and alot less moping.

“Woman aren't as complicated as they seem, son. You don't need some grand gesture-”

“Says the man who tamed Toruk after his first fight with his mate” Neteyam interrupts and Jake snorts at his unusual outburst.

His eldest son is usually so very put together- it's entertaining to see that a woman could bring out this side of him.

“I have nothing to offer her. Back home in the forest I could have given her- everything” Neteyam sighs as he admits what's been on his mind since he’d begun pursuing you “There’s no reason why she’d want to be with me, I’m aware of that”

Jake pulls his son close.

His first born. The apple of his eye. Neteyam was good to his core, and anyone who knew him could see it. Jake was so proud of him and wondered if this lack of self confidence came from the fact that he probably didn’t tell the boy of that fact enough.

“All that girl wants from you is reassurance. That’s all you need to give her, everything else will come with time. If she wanted to mate for status she would’ve done it long before you got here, kid. ”

Jake had been shitty at motivational speeches since his stint in the military. You would think his time as reigning Olo’eyktan would have given him some kind of skills. But still, his words are a bit clunky. But sincere.

After a moment, Neteyam gulps at the Kava in his hand. Drains his cup and then squares his shoulders before he’s off.

Eyes set unyieldingly on the prize.

Jake grins. If a good ol’ pep talk doesn't do it- liquid courage sure will.

You’re half heartedly participating in the conversations going on around you, just distracted enough that Neteyam’s able to stalk over. Unnoticed until he’s standing right infront of you-

“Y/N” His voice is firm, he wonders if you know how hard it is for him to keep it as such. “I see you”

Up close he can see how swollen your eyes are. How exhausted you look. You just nod, muttering out a quiet “I see you” in response.

Everything about your body language screams that you want to be left alone. Your arms are crossed over your chest, your ears tipped low. Your tail curls around your ankle and your nose keeps scrunching up.

He wishes he could let you be,

But you make him selfish. You bring out a side of him that wants to take. Has to be satiated or he’s going to lose his fucking mind.

“I must speak with you” He states his intentions, clear. Ignores the way Ronal glares daggers at the side of his head.

“I don’t think-”

“It will only take a moment. But I ask for the privacy to explain myself to you. If after you hear my words you still do not wish to talk to me I will respect that”

You glance at your family before responding to him. Sharing a look with both Ronal and Tsireya. Your cousin smiles encouragingly, your aunt gives a barley tolerant tilt of her head.

You sigh and nod, but step away from his hand when he offers it to you. It's an obvious rejection, but Neteyam tries not to dwell on it. His tail flicks anxiously behind him.

“We may speak in private. Come” your voice is low, before you begin to lead him away from the festivities. Down the beach until the firelight is in the distance and the beat of the drum is a low hum on the howling wind.

The storms will start soon. The sea is choppy, the clouds rolling in and the breeze cool.

It’s hard to find privacy on the sandy shores, intertwined couples can be found scattered along the waters edge. Lips locked. Speaking lowly and intimately.

Neteyam is pretty sure that one of his fellow hunters has his mate twisted into a mating press- if her breathless whimpers are anything to go by.

He avoids their writhing bodies, ignores the way it makes his own core tingle.

Fertility Season is all but here. The entire clan falling under its low boiling energy.

All he could think about as he had been out on the open ocean; is that this cycle he wouldn't have to spend it alone.

He’s not sure that is the case anymore.

After more walking, completely in silence, the two of you come to a mostly desolate area. Quiet and still, as private as it’s going to get.

You stare out at the cresting waves and Neteyam knows he needs to say something, anything. But all he can to is look at you.

At the way that the moonlight illuminates your silhouette, at the dusting of turquoise bioluminescent freckles that are scattered across your nose.

“I-Um-” You start, and that wont do. He cuts you off quick.

It is only him who needs to explain himself. “Let me start by apologizing to you. I am so sorry, Y/N”

You appear as though you’re going to start crying and if you do, he’ll lose all his carefully cultivated cool.

So he presses on.

“I had no idea that accepting Lei’s was a courting symbol here. I don't know how to make you believe me but if I had know I would’ve never-” Neteyam lets out a long shaky breath “I can only swear to you that in the future I will be more mindful of your clans traditions”

Time ticks by. The moon shines and the waves crash against the shore.

“Our clan” you break the silence, your voice gentle and melodic. “You passed your Iknimaya. It is your clan as much as mine”

He wants so desperately to hold you. He has for months, but the need is almost unbearable at this very moment.

“If I have lost my chance. Please, tell me now” it’s a plea. Because it hurts to look at you. If he can not have you- if you do not want him, he will accept it. Somehow. But being alone with you like this and not knowing is killing him. “I will…I’ll leave you alone, if you want me to”

You scoff, not looking away from him. Refusing to meet his eye, still staring blanky at the waves. “You act as though I am the one who accepted someone else’s offer. I have never wanted you to leave me alone, Neteyam”

“I’m sorry” Does he sound as idiotic as he feels? He surely hopes not.

“You already said that”

“Please, look at me”

“I can’t” you whisper- hissing at him warningly when he outstretches his hands “I- I don't want to ever feel like this again. You need to tell me what you want from me because I do not know. I will get confused again, if you do not tell me what we are doing”

He can tell by your expression that you are serious, and even so. He cant fucking believe it. Had he failed at courtship so immensely that you really don't know? He’s stuck in his head for a moment too long.

It makes you anxious, makes you back even further away.

“Please-” He’s all but begging, yet

you avoid his touch again and it feels like blades.

Your shrill warning hiss rings in his ears.

He returns it with a snarl of his own when you continue to refuse to let him touch you. Can't help it, the need to rebuff all of this uncertainty around the union that is so special to him is strong.

He grips the top of your arms, his long fingers holding your biceps.

You finally look at him. Your round eyes wide and vulnerable. Filled with unshed tears and unspoken questions.

“I want to mate with you” He starts because if you need to hear it all, word for word, then he’d tell you. “I want to build my life here with you by my side. I want us to have a home that will never know war-”

A tear rolls down the swell of your cheek.

“I-I want you to choose to be with me” He swallows, the lump in his throat getting bigger, higher. Threatening to choke his vocal cords “I will be good to you. If you let me”

His family had always required him to be the rock. Had leaned on him to take on the role of caretaker, he had had to keep it together. Keep them together. It wasn't easy for him to break open like this. It went against his very nature, all that self preservation he’d learned early.

But you need this. And he thinks he might too.

“Neteyam-”

“I will ask you again. If I have lost my chance tell me now”

Have mercy on him.

“I understand if you want to be with someone who can offer you more. I won’t fault you for it” he doesn’t know why he feels the need to tack that on. Why the self deprecating thoughts manifest their way into words that hurt for him to speak “I don’t have much here. But I’ll build it, for you”

Your muscles tense under his palms and he prepares himself for the rejection. The physical blow of it-

But then, you melt. Loosen. Your entire body sags fully into his grip. That pinched expression on your face slips away. Your full lips part and your eyes soften, brows furrowing together.

You look at him like he is something precious. Like you can see him- and he thinks you might be the first one who ever has.

He’d known it in his bones. Since the day he’d arrived. Since he’d first spotted your face in the crowd.

“Oel ngati kameie” you whisper, your hand coming up to cup his jaw. “Oel ngati kamei, Neteyam. I see-”

He leans heavily into your hand. His forehead clunking against yours, pressing hard. The contact stings, but its welcome. He needs it.

He needs.

“I don’t care about any of that. I don’t care what you have or don’t have. You know I don’t.” you murmur urgently, he can feel the words against against his skin.

When you press a whisper light, tentative kiss against the sharp of his cheekbone, something snaps. Something that had been strained and barely held together just breaks.

His control, he realizes as he crowds you.

As his fingers dig into your arms and he presses the line of his body against your own firmly.

You’re so soft everywhere. So much smaller than him. He’s all lean muscle, tall and hard. You’re pliable skin, a layer of blubber to keep you warm in the deep. So different from the women he’d grown up with. Your hips are wide, thighs pillowy.

You’d give him healthy children. His hindbrain howls.

When he captures your lips he hopes you realize that there’s no going back. That this is until death. He’d go to his grave before he was robbed of this again.

You gasp, sweet and small, and he eats it. Consumes all of the air in your lungs. You’re good at holding your breath anyway, right?

“Neteyam” you whine, pulling away, your lips wet and your pupils wide. You’re shaky, already a bit disoriented and he wants to keep you. Protect you. He’ll give you anything if you just keep looking at him like that.

“Are you ok-”

You reach up on the tips of your toes, slamming your lips back against his before he can finish his words.

Your hands tangle into his braids as you try to gain traction, pull him down to your level. Get a better hold on him.

Its intense, dizzying. You kiss him like you’re dying and maybe you are. Maybe you’ve been slowly dying since he first got here. Every moment that you hadn’t been able to be held by him had killed you- a slow torturous death.

You drag him down. Do you know he’d follow you anywhere? Under the waves, down onto the soft sand. He cups the back of your head, shelters your neck as he bullies his thin hips between your dense thighs and pressed you against the ground.

The months worth of tension isn't released gently, because it can't be.

The kisses are bruising. Wandering hands and desperate tongues. It’s carnal, Fertility season making both of your minds cloudy as you try to dig into each others flesh.

Nothing is close enough.

With a whine, your fingers slip under Neteyam's multilayered choker. Using it as leverage to tug on as you thrust your hips up violently. The heat at the apex of your legs grinding against his covered erection dangerously.

“Ah-” he gasps wetly “Easy, Narlor. Easy”

“Sorry” you simper, panting. Trying to get a hold on the feelings rushing through you. One hand gripping his necklace, the other slipping into the back of his hair, brushing the nape of his neck “I want- I dream about it all the time”

Fire rushes down Neteyam’s spine, both at your words and your feather light touch to his kuru. He wonders if you touched yourself after those dreams. If you had to take the edge off like he had. He shudders at the thought-

You’re kissing at his neck again, at all of that sensitive skin under his braids, near his ears.

Your quick touches are everywhere. Rushing all over his body. Manicured nails scraping over his skin-

“Ugh,” he warbles out as your curious hand disappears under his tweng.

Its a tight fit as your fingers dance along his hard cock. Delicate and teasingly light. He’s going to come all over himself like some inexperienced teenager that had never gotten a taste of pussy before if you don't. Slow. Down.

“Tell me about those dreams of yours. What’d we do in them?” Neteyam teases, his lips moving against the corner of your mouth. A distraction for both you and himself.

You can't form words, not as you feel how big he is. As you cherish the fact you’ll never be empty again. He's hard and pulsing in your hand and you want him inside of you. Your mouth, your cunt. You don't care. You want to be the only one who gets to feel him, no one else can ever-

There’s only one way to ensure that.

“Tsahelyu” you whimper, “Please Neteyam. Need it”

He slows down a bit, his head spacy but not totally lost. The bond is everything. It’s the most important aspect of Na’vi culture “I can't bond you here”

“Why?” its a petulant whine, your hips pressing against his again.

“I’m not going to bond you on the cold ground, Yawne. Out in the open”

“It’s okay, I don’t mind” you press and he chuckles, shaking his head “you could have me anywhere you want me”

It’s the raw honesty in your voice that drives him crazy.

Devotion in a way that makes him lightheaded.

He can't give you Tsaheylu yet, he wants it done right. He wants you tucked in a mountain of blankets with a warm fire going- at the height of Fertility Season. The ancestors watching over you as he intertwines himself into your soul for the rest of time.

“I will have you” He assures you, dragging his mouth across your clavicle, his long fingers working the strings of your intricate top loose “And you’ll have me. But you have to let me do it right”

You hate waiting. You tell him as he suckles his way across your chest. Moaning as he finally gets his mouth on your soft breasts. Your fist his braids, shivering as he feasts on your skin.

“I’ll make it worth your while” Neteyam promises between mouthfuls of supple flesh “You’ll want for nothing. I’ll give you anything”

He’s humping down into you, unable to stop his hips from shifting. His cock seeking your warmth. You’re right there, he could just-

“Please” you shiver, like you know what he’s thinking. Like you can read his mind and all the dirty thoughts that cross it.

You can't take it. All of his hesitating.

You’d heard that the Omiticayans were more reserved, more traditional when it came to mating but he was going to drive you crazy.

You push on his chest. Gentle yet demanding.

He doesn't want to remove his mouth from your breasts but he allows it all the same. His lips swollen, a thin string of spit connecting him to your tender nipple as he stares at you with questioning eyes.

Neteyam lets you push him off of you before he goes down onto his back, the sand grating against his shoulder blades as he lays flat. You grin the entire time. Your eyes sparkling with excitement. With hunger.

You look as horny as he feels and it kills him.

Your fingers pluck at the at the delicate ties of your tweng, loosening it until it falls from your curvy hips.

“Y/N” he warns as you then reach for his own. Tugging at the leather straps of his loincloth. He raises his hips, helping you shimmy it down his long legs.

“You can't bond me” You whisper as you straddle his waist, your small hands using his broad chest for balance, palms on his pectorals “Not yet anyway”

“Mhmm” Neteyams murmurs as his eyes roll into the back of his head. You're hot and dripping wet, the center of your legs steaming as you rub it against his groin.

“That doesn't mean you cant touch me” you coo at the man under you as you slowly begin to undulate above him. Your hips circling as your head lowers to tongue at the underside of his jaw.

“Shit” He curses in English, gasping at the night sky as you drag damply across his lower stomach .

“Yes?” you question him as you reach for his hand, leading it exactly where you need him most.

“Yeah” Neteyam assures, fingertips dipping where you're skin is plush and dripping- right in between your spread thighs “Yeah, Yeah”

Your hand is still leading his, cupping him firmly against your pussy as he feels how much you need him. You hadn't been the only one dreaming of this. You had danced behind his eyelids for months. His brain had played tricks on him, desperately splicing together mismatched audio in an attempt to conjure up what you would sound like when he finally got to have you.

A shivery keen escapes you when he presses on your swollen bundle of nerves and nah. His imagination couldn't hold a candle to this.

It’s not just how you sound its how you look.

Sat on top of him, resting on your knees with your chest bare save for that brightly hued Lei. Your kiss bruised bottom lip is skewered between your sharp teeth as you worry it in keyed-up concentration. Blue eyes low, your long eyelashes almost fluttering against your cheeks as you stare down at him.

It’s how you smell.

Ripe and earth wet- his mouth floods as he inhales lungfuls of it, your juices are all over him. His waist, coating his hand . Everywhere but right on his tongue where he wants it the most.

Exploring you where you’re the most vulnerable is slippery, your pussy swollen as he traces along the folds. Your clit beats with your pulse under his touch, inflamed and you cry out.

“Awe, baby” he tuts. Your hips chase him in jagged little movements, unsure and needy and it’s enough to get him grinning. You’d been so sure of yourself when you’d pushed him down and climbed on top of him.

Yet here you are a whining mess of his thing in his lap.

There’s no room to tease, he wants to watch you come all over him. Everything still feels too over sensitive. Too new and easily breakable. You’d spent the last near week questioning his feelings.

Neteyam had his words. He could wax to you poetic until your ears bled,

But he had this too. He needed to make you feel a way that no one else could and as he sunk his long digit inside of you he realized that this was better then any conversation. This felt like the most natural way to express all of his emotions, you sucking him in knuckle deep felt so right.

Velvet soft and vice tight, he’s hard between his own legs from just the feel of you. Just knowing that this was his.

You, your heart. Your body. Your tiny little cunt.

Tiny but taking him so well, not just one finger. But two. Then three. Your body moves like the crashing waves behind you, intense and wild. Shoving down onto him so hard that his wrist starts to ache with the demanding press.

“More” you pant wetly into his neck “Faster. Net-please”

He figures out that faster means harder, and harder means he has you all but vibrating on top of him. Bouncing in time with every thrust of his digits. The arm that isn't preoccupied comes around you to hold you steady as he finger fucks you until you're a squealing mess.

This isn't the first time Neteyam has done this.

There’d been girls back home. One girl in particular that didn't take it too personally that he needed tension relief from the war raging around them and not the arranged soon to be wife that everyone had been trying to shove down his throat back them.

This isn't the first time he’s done this but it’s the first time he’s felt this.

He nuzzles your head out from its hiding place in his shoulder. He has to watch your face, needs to see the way he’s making you fall apart.

This is the first time he’s felt the all consuming pull to be with another person. He wants you like this always. So close to him that he could taste the perspiration from your panting breaths.

You tighten up in his arms, going rigid as your pleasure crests. Your pussy fluttering and mouth gaping. It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. You’re orgasm is ethereal, raw and fervid.

It’s a glance at Eywa. He sees the great mother on your face as you writhe atop of him.

It’s alot, he can tell. Fuck he can only imagine what you’re feeling if it had been this intense for him. Neteyam lets you hide again after a moment. Your hair covers your face as you shake and he thinks you might be crying, but he just brushes a hand down your damp back. Soothing you back down from the high.

The stars are brighter, even as the clouds gather in gluggy gray storm clusters. Everything seems a little bit more beautiful with his fingers still inside of you. It pains him to slide them out, missing the tight clutch of you once his wet fingers are exposed to the cool night air.

Tsaheylu, you’d begged him earlier. His kuru throbs and gooseflesh erupts all over his body just thinking about bonding with you. He wants it more than he’s ever wanted anything.

You nuzzle against him, nosing at his cheek. Your lips ghosting at the corner of his own.

“You okay?” you wonder. Your voice deep and husky. So sexy it makes his eyes close for a second.

“I should be asking you that”

“Mmm, no need to ask. I feel so so good” you assure him, starting to sit up a little “I um-I kind of got really into it. I’m sorry”

“Sorry?” Neteyam questions, keeping his grip on you as you start to squirm. Not in pleasure this time. But in shame, the embarrassed kind. Coming down from the pleasure haze, that anxious edge comes back. Unsure even as you’re on top of him. “Don’t say that. Why would you be sorry right now?”

You huff, nose scrunching. Ears flicking “I made a mess all over you”

It might not be very nice but he can't help but laugh at you. His pearly white canines on display as he hoots, the belly laughs jostling you from your perch.

“What!” you grumble, but smile all the same. “Stop”

“Hmm. I love messes like this. Feel free to make messes like this anytime” his fingers, still glistening come into view as he brings them to his mouth. Your eyes widen, glued to him. At the slight suction of his cheeks as he licks them in earnest “See. Easy clean up, you’ve got nothing to worry about, Pretty”

You taste as good as you smell. His tastebuds tingle as he swirls the new flavor around. Complex; a sweet musk that he wants to bathe in. He’s acutely aware of the way you watch him, your sweet cheeks burning at his lewdness.

When he frees his fingers with a pop, he gasps as your tongue surges in his mouth.

Tasting yourself on his spit.

Fuck.

He lets you kiss him breathless. Lets you run your sloppy kisses all over his face, down his chin. Across his neck. He arches into it all, gives you all the room you need. He’s well aware of what you’re doing. Working your strong scent into every inch of his bare skin.

Scent marking is a vital part of Na’vi courtship. Ancient, ritualistic and respected. Practiced by your ancestors before the first songs.

It’s makes something in him pur, knowing that you want him to smell like you.

“I think that's enough” He grins when your tongue dips into his navel “They can smell me, baby. You did a very thorough job”

The pout on your face is beyond cute as you sit up on your knees. The little ‘hmph’ sound so adorably out of place in the highly sexually charged situation “But I wanna smell like you too. How will anyone know I’m yours if they can’t smell it?”

Neteyam's nostrils flare. His ears swivel on his head and his tail gives a good lash at that. You want to be marked by him too. Are willing to parade his scent around all of those assholes in the clan that have been trying to win your affections, even when it was clear you were uninterested.

“Lay down” It’s an order, spoken softly but directly and you follow it at once. A giddy smile on your face as you lounge on the sand.

You are a vision.

Hair sprawling and messy behind your head. Your legs spread, back arched. Pretty nipples pebbled hard and on display. The only thing covering you is the floral necklace around your svelte throat.

It doesn't take him long at all. He strokes his striped cock firm and efficiently. Too many years of having to get himself off fast enough not to be caught has made his practiced movements almost perfect.

You’re looking at him like that again. Adoration clear as day on your face. Soft for him. You see him-

“Ol Ngati Kamiel” your voice is saccharin as you speak and he grunts violently as he comes.

Ropes of it land on your belly, across your exposed chest. It’s almost too much when you reach down swiping into the translucent, sticky, mess and start rubbing it into your smooth skin. He collapses shakily beside you, needing to collect himself for a minute before he helps your cause.

It’s the most intimate thing the two of you have done all night, laying together. Basking in the afterglow. Your scents mingle, dancing together in the evening breeze and Neteyam wants to imprint this memory somewhere deep.

The festivities are still raging- and you really do need to get back. It’s an important night. Your clan wants you there, the two of you need to make your rounds. Keep appearances. He won’t keep you from your duties, no matter how much he may want to.

After a quick dip in the ocean, removing the filth of love making but still wearing the strong scent of each other's pheromones, you begin to redress.

Neteyam watches. Highly distracted as you shimmy back into your tweng before looping your top around your shoulders. He works clumsily at the leather of his loincloth.

“Wait-”

The two of you are starting the trek back to the bonfire when he reaches out to halt you. His fingers play with wreath of lilies around your neck and his eyes bore into yours pleadingly.

The smile you give him is more radiant then the silvery moons that twinkle in the inky sky.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Even at the late hour the ceremonial bonfire still crackles with life. The festivities have ebbed into something slower, more intimate.

The adults of the clan are all that’s left, children long gone and tucked into their beds or dozing off against their parents' side.

Kiri sits on a carved log, in a circle of familiar faces.

Her mother and father had left not long ago. Tuk had been fighting slumber but succumbed after the Elders crooned a particularly slow song about the Sky and Sea’s forbidden love. Jake had hoisted the young girl up and bid everyone adieu, swaying on his feet as his wife hissed at him about how after all these years, he still couldn’t handle his liquor.

Now, Kiri listens to stories as she sips slowly on her cup of Kava. Enjoying the pleasant burn;

But not willing to end up like her dumb as rocks brother who is sprawled on the ground. Lo’ak is all but unconscious, every time he opens his eyes they are unfocused and hazy.

That’s what he gets for trying to out drink clan members twice his size. He’d been on the losing end of the drinking competition from the start- he was just too stubborn to see it.

Lo’ak is lucky Tsireya doesn’t care much for drinking, and is more than willing to tend to him. She keeps trying to force him to drink water and nibble on bits of food.

Ao’nung isn’t faring much better; he stares at the moon with a dopey smile as he sings, incredibly off tune, to the song that fills the air. A gaggle of girls surround him. Each hoping to catch his eye.

It’d been an all night thing, affections being thrown at him while he ignored it all too easily.

“My bed will be full this season, I’m not worried about a thing” he’d shrugged it off when asked about it.

Roxto’s boisterous laugh had dwindled down when Kiri shot him an extremely unamused glare.

She’s debating on leaving Lo’ak to sleep on the beach for the night when out of the shadows comes her eldest brother; who had been missing for most of the evening.

The hours had bled away and Kiri had tried not to worry too much about the confrontation that was going on just beyond the jovial bubble of the Metkayina celebrations. You had been distraught and Neteyam had never been good at voicing his own emotional needs-

Huh.

It looks like she had nothing to worry about.

The grin on Neteyam’s face is shit eating. It’s the smuggest she’s ever seen him. Even at his first Inknimaya, back with the Omiticaya, he hadn’t reacted like this. All head raised high and walking on a cloud.

You tug him along behind you, you guys’ fingers tightly intertwined. Your hips sway excitedly as you bounce along the sand. Kiri’s brother's chest is puffed out in obvious pride as he follows your footsteps.

Around his neck is Lei made up of vibrant pink flowers. It matches the one in your hair, that sits kind of lopsided now.

As the couple gets you closer, and Kiri catches a whiff of your approaching bodies, she wants to wretch. You’re drowning in each other's scents and it’s quite obvious what you had been up to all night.

“So gross” Kiri gags in accusation once you’re both in earshot.

You two owed her so big. She thinks naming one of your future children after her would suffice.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Okayyyyy. This was so fun to write and I already have Part Three brewing! TAGLIST IS CLOSED.

So like. Lots to address here. Tons to talk about. I’m gonna start the conversation but I hope you guys continue it in the comments.

1. The Motnaui is something I completely made up(…yes after watching Moana and taking inspiration for the name) lol it’s a ritualistic hunt that newly anointed hunters and warriors go on after their Metkayinan Iknimaya’s. I know all the different clans Iknimaya traditions would be different and I thought this would be cool.

2. I read a story in the Avatar fandom where the liquor they drank was called Kava and it just stuck in my brain. I know Kava is a drink in real life too, but for the sake of storytelling, please think about them as completely different things. The drink in this story is more of a wine/moonshine mixture deal. Would really fuck your ass upppp.

3. Fertility Season is obvs totes made up. Why is it rainy during it? Because I myself would want a week of non stop loving making with a nice little fire going, under lots of blankets with it chilly and rainy outside. And at the end of the day I’m writing for me lol

4. NETEYAM IS A SWEETHEART WHO STRUGGLES WITH HIS SELF WORTH JUST LIKE THE REST OF US. Please listen to the Artic Monkeys while you read this chapter(wanna be yours, do I wanna know, 505. THE LONGING)

5. Expect more POV’s to come! It will always be mostly rooted from Y/N’s point of view but I love touching base with all of the other characters. It’s so fun. I’m thinking a snippet of Neytiris in Part Three!

#neteyam smut #neteyam x reader smut #neteyam x reader #aged up neteyam #SMUT!#neteyam x metkayina!reader #neteyam x you #atwow neteyam

3K notes · View notes

deadbeat-motel · 7 months

Text

ᐯᗩGGIE ᗩᑎᗪ ᑕᕼᗩᖇᒪIE ᖇEᗪEᔕIGᑎ

These two are simpler than the angel dust design I did since I didn't have a lot to go off of. Posted on Valentine's Day because yes I can.

I don't think Charlie is significantly different from her Pilot design because I genuinely think it was the best design from the cast (before the redesign).

Thoughts below, though TW for the creepy charlie image at the end:

My issues with their Original designs:

Vaggie:

The giant "X" over her eye is really distracting and even world-breaking because

1. Why had no one put 2 and 2 together that the only character in Hell who has a visible 'X' mark on her face might be related to the angels who also sport that X mark on their faces.

2. Why is it shaped like an X? Her eye was taken out via a single slash.

3. If the hair's purpose was to cover it, why would it show through it? What's the point of the hair then?

The hair that was supposed to cover that wounded eye looked so ugly and confused as to what it should be doing. I mean every shot that showed that thing in a sideview shot of Vaggie felt like the animators had to make their own guesses as to how that was supposed to look like. It was distracting for me personally and I hated it so much.

It's been said over and over again, but her clothes look like she works at McDonalds. I get needing to change her outfit so that she looks like she works at the hotel, but it's just been poorly designed.

Why change her clothes' colors from white to red? the white helped her stand out from Hell and the Hotel's majority red background. (In the finale, she at least has a non-red attire)

She's also one of the very few women in HH and she falls under the skinny stick side of it despite being an angel exterminator.

Her hair is kind of hard to visualize looking at in any way other than what it is when it's static. However, when it changed into a ponytail or a bob, it's actually really nice to look at.

Unsure of what that bow's purpose is for the design.

Charlie:

Charlie is a simple but very confused design. The pilot design was a lot more coherent than the current show design

It's disappointing to see the bouncy Pilot hair go and be replaced by that boring bubble braid of all things.

Her undershirt peaks out of her tuxedo.... why???? to separate the top jacket and the pants? You wouldn't need to do that if her pants were a different color like the pilot design.

Thought about it and was confused, as a demon with an angelic father, why didn't she have wings as well? She didn't need the 6 wings like Lucifer but maybe a pair of one would appear?

Out of all the characters for the show's redesign, Her's was by far the MOST infuriating to me. Her pilot design wasn't perfect but it was good, they had to downgrade her for some reason.

I didn't have much to say about Charlie. it basically sums up to "the Pilot design was better".

On to the thought process for these two:

Valerie the fallen:

Yes, she got a rename. Sue me.

I had to remove the moth aspect of her design because it doesn't seem like it makes sense for a heaven-born to follow the sinner's rule of "gaining features based on the life you lived" since she basically never lived right?

In this redesign (and eventual rewrite), Valerie is not ashamed of her exterminator background. In fact, she was known as the most recent "fallen" in hell. her short stature doesn't make her less of a threat to the demons.

She's also visually thick with muscle because why not let one of the show's women have a body type that isn't stick-thin?

She's using the wings that were torn off of her as both an interesting article of clothing and as a way to remind others and her that she is (or more accurately 'was') an angel who could kill them if she wanted to.

Her clothes are pure black underneath the pale feathers to show that while she is an "angel", deep down, she is far from a good person.

She's also getting an actual skin color because from what I gathered myself from the show's heaven. Most of the souls there still retain a human appearance (Adam, Lute, St. Peter, and the other random human angels up there still look human..... but just don't mind the fact that most of them are white.)

Her hair is that ponytail she had in the finale because as much as I didn't like that episode, some designs looked actually decent.

Also, her hair actually covers the eye scar properly.

I wanted to keep her ribbon as a splash of brightness on her design but the OG ribbon looks a little out of place on a warrior so It became that (Plus it pays homage to her OG moth influence with its shape looking like the fluffy antennas of the moth)

Gave the spearhead a little bit of detail on it plus a chipped side so that it has a bit of charm as an old weapon she still decides to keep around.

A note about Valerie's design is that I haven't tackled the armor of angels yet so I was unsure of what pieces of the undesigned armor to give Valerie as of now.

Charlie:

I honestly actually enjoyed her Pilot hair, so I tried to put it back and also simplify it a bit so there are not a lot of strands for me to keep track of. Plus it was a genuinely cute design for her. (There's a reason that version was used in the Verbalase video.) <- I'M JOKING

Replaced her button nose with a goat's because a friend has commented how it looked like the noses of the women in a Goofy Movie and I will never be able to unsee that.

Her hair is also a lot brighter compared to her washed-out blonde color.

She has the same design thought process as Valerie, Covering the darkness of her true nature with white fluffy fur which is stylized like feathers at its ends. She has pitch-black skin underneath and looks like a proper nightmarish demon like the image below.

I ditched the tuxedo look, since almost all the cast has a similar outfit already, and gave her a jumpersuit instead. (Idk what it's really called but that's what I think it is). It's a light grey because she's a mix of bad and good (though a bright grey because she prefers to be on the good side)

Her horns are there and visible because yeah it's cute but also helps her read as the half-angel/half-demon character she is.

Tiny goat tail because can you imagine every time Valerie holds the rare angel smile of approval, her tail is visibly wagging in glee and excitement???? My heart would die. I love these lesbians with my life.

Has wings from her father.

Anyways, those are my thoughts and redesigns... I wanted to add more details to them but I didn't really know what to add that didn't feel unnecessary.

Also bonus! Concept art of Charlie's true form:

#vivziepop critical #hazbin hotel redesign #hazbin hotel criticism #hazbin hotel critical #deadbeat motel rewrite #deadbeat motel redesign #deadbeat motel charlie #deadbeat motel valerie

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matryosika · 8 months

Text

Attraction, obsession, infatuation

Pairing — Hyunjin and fem!reader Wordcount — 7,680 words Includes — Explicit sexual content. Alcohol consumption, mentions of jealousy and possessiveness. Smut warnings under the cut. Summary — It is easier to hate than to admit loving. Alternatively, where Hyunjin realizes he might be tired of pretending he doesn't want to be more than just your toy. Author's Note — First 2024 full story! One of my New Year's resolutions was to keep on writing, since the last two years have been a bit too rough with my creativity and, overall, life. I hope I can continue posting stuff this year, but I literally can't ignore the fact that I am graduating college this June and that the adult life is, inevitably, catching up to me. Still, writing is something I love so I am determined to take this hobby very seriously, since it's one of the few things I enjoy! I hope you like this, please remember that english is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes in advanced. If you wish to support my work, please leave a comment, reblog or ask 💌 Post divider by @/cafekitsune

Smut Warnings — Dirty talk, (very) mild humiliation, oral sex (m. receiving), face fucking and deep throating, voyeurism, female (solo) masturbation), unprotected sex, penetrative sex, marking (and mentions of pain), dacryphilia, creampie.

Humiliating.

There is no other way to describe the situation that perfectly.

[21:19 p.m., Hyunjin: Seems like you got yourself a new toy]

[21:19 p.m., Hyunjin: You don’t want to play with me anymore?]

[21:20 p.m., Hyunjin: I mean, we both know why you agreed to come here in the first place. It's not like you're the best of friends with any of my roommates, anyways.]

You hate how right he always is —how shamelessly he speaks, how pridefully he carries that ego of him.

People say there is a thin line between hatred and love, but they never talk about how tempting it is to walk on it. Especially because said line doesn't involve any of the former—if anything, that line represents all the carnal pleasures.

Pure lust.

[21:21 p.m., You: Please]

[21:21 p.m., You: You’re so full of yourself, you know that?]

Hyunjin rolls his eyes right in front of you, tongue poking through his cheek while he reads your messages.

[21:22 p.m., Hyunjin: That never seems to be a problem when you're in my bed]

It's a never ending bickering. A never ending teasing.

Hyunjin has always loved the thrill of doing things he isn't supposed to —no wonder why he ended up fucking you, out of all the women he knows.

Attraction, obsession, infatuation.

No amount of words could describe what happens between the two of you.

[21:23 p.m., You: I’m busy, in case you haven’t tell]

His cheeks grow hotter, killer eyes darting between you and the man you're talking to; appearing all sweet, gentle, collected, and everything you're not when you are with him. Your hand lays peacefully over your companion’s thigh, playfully hitting it when he says something remotely funny.

Your smile hasn't worn off since you entered the party, and Hyunjin genuinely wonders if you’re that happy and comfortable to be around any other man. Inevitably, he begins to wonder if you'd let him touch you like he does, kiss you like he has. He stares at you two for a little too long, and questions if you'd let that man do everything Hyunjin is entitled to do with you.

Would you let him treat you like he can? Let him fuck you like he does?

He chugs down the alcohol from his cup and uses that as an excuse to calm his masochistic urges, walking away from the scene he has been staring at for almost 10 minutes now.

It's like pouring lime over a wound, like pulling out a loose tooth. It hurts, but it makes him feel something.

“If you didn't hate her I would say you're totally drooling over her,” a black-haired man that smiles teasingly with his eyes is quick to ambush Hyunjin as he makes his way to the kitchen.

“What? Did your date get tired of you too early tonight?”

Changbin’s tongue pokes his cheek, and he can’t help but smile at Hyunjin’s moodiness. “She went to the bathroom, I just came here for some drinks”.

“Well, get to it,” Hyunjin commands, stretching his shoulders in an attempt to release all the build-up tension over them.

“Man, you've been acting so out of your element lately,” Changbin remarks, placing a bottle of vodka and another of pineapple juice aside with two red solo cups. “You’re always in a fucking mood, this is actually the first time I see you outside your bedroom in like... a while”.

Hyunjin won't admit it, but he is sulking.

Because of college, because of work, because of things he can't begin to fix and because of you.

“Just busy, I guess,” he shrugs his shoulders. “Sorry I can't spend all day sticking my dick in different holes and doing an 8-hour shift at the gym”.

Changbin scoffs bitterly under his breath, nose flaring at his friend's harshness. “Maybe that's exactly what you need,” he nods, pouring a drink for himself and his date, “a good fuck”.

He rolls his eyes.

Yeah, maybe he needs that, but he also needs for you to stop touching your date's thigh, laughing amusingly loudly like you want him to hear how much of a great time you're having. Maybe Hyunjin needs to relieve all his anger on you, or he just needs for you to spare him a fucking glance because you haven't even looked at him since you walked in.

“Yeah,” he finally exhales, stealing the vodka bottle from Changbin’s grip to pour some onto his cup. He chugs it down quickly, and clears his throat when he feels the liquid burning inside, “that’s what I need”.

Changbin pats his right shoulder and abandons the kitchen when he spots his date closing the bathroom door behind her. And Hyunjin is left alone once again, wondering if it's time to ditch the party and lock himself inside his room or if he should hurt himself a bit more to get a grip on reality.

Inconveniently, he chooses the latter. Resting his hips against the kitchen counter, and turning his back on the full view of the living room, Hyunjin begins to thread a line of questions that may never have a proper answer.

Had he met you in another context, and in a distinct light, would things be different? Would your dynamic be different?

Maybe he would've apologized when he had time, for all the useless bickering that always took place between the two along the friend group. Had he surrendered to your stubbornness, rather than putting up a fight like it's typical from him, would the anguish be less?

Now that he reflects on it, Hyunjin can't even tell why you two hate each other these days. He never questioned it, the hatred you felt for each other, but he no longer knows why it's still there. Maybe it was a first impression, maybe it was a dumb comment or joke he cracked when you were introduced to the friend group. Maybe it was the fact that you two are so alike, personality wise, that you never seemed to get on.

Maybe you keep on hating each other because that's how it always has been, because there hasn't been a room to question the "what if's".

Or maybe you hate him just for being him, and the only thing you've come to mend with is the fact that he is nothing more than a good fuck.

His heart aches because of this last thought, and he stares at his phone screen for a bit too long, hoping to get a text from you. But you're busy, you said it yourself, and he is just feeling out of place.

“Hey,” the familiar voice it's enough for him to lift up his eyes from his phone, encountering a sheepishly grinning, red-eyed Jisung. “Changbin told me you’re in a mood, again”.

“He should put his mouth to good use,” Hyunjin rolls his eyes.

“He is worried about you though,” his friend says. “We all are, you know”.

Hyunjin sighs, “I’m fine”.

“Dude, come on,” Jisung drags his words lazily. “It’s about her, right?”

He shoots a killer gaze at him, “about who?”

If Jisung hadn't been higher than the fucking Empire State, he would've considered Hyunjin’s gaze a threat. But his mind is not precisely paying attention to any social cues, so he proceeds to say your name as a response.

"You should stop smoking that shit ever so often, you know?" he spits in annoyance, "it's making you delusional".

“Yeah, right man,” Jisung nods. “And you can keep being angry with the world just because you can't be angry with her”.

It disgusts Hyunjin how poetic that sounds, but his friend isn't too far from the truth —he would much rather project his anger and annoyance onto everyone else before you.

Because if you call, if you look for him, if you text him and ask him to see you, he will always be available. Even when he is not. Even when he has a ton shit to do. Even if all you want is his dick and a couple of dirty words.

Every time you ask, Hyunjin will give you anything you want.

“We don't have to talk about her though. Just wanted to check up on you,” his friend continues after an excruciatingly long silence, patting one of his shoulders like Changbin did before.

“There’s nothing to talk about, anyways,” Hyunjin says.

“Are you on, like, bad terms?”

“We’re not on any terms,” again, the urge to deny everything. It's always easier to pretend nothing it's going on than admitting there's a huge fucking elephant in the room. “We fuck, occasionally, and that's it. Not friendship, not intimacy, not trivial conversations about each other's days”.

“Well, that's some sort of the ideal to a fuck buddy relationship,” Jisung tilts his head. “It’s supposed to work”.

It should.

And it did, for a while —when the feelings were minimum and could be repressed, when the anger only translated to hatred and annoyance, and not jealousy and possessiveness.

These days, it's just not enough.

“Yeah well,” Hyunjin scoffs bitterly, holding the almost empty bottle of alcohol to his lips.

Thank God he isn't a light weight, because he would've been screwed by now. Vodka isn't his greatest match, but neither are you and he knows he has to sacrifice something tonight —whether it’s his rationality or his heart.

“Alright,” he finally exhales, pushing the empty bottle away from the edge of the counter. “I’m going back to my room”.

"Already?"

“That's the beauty of people using your apartment to host a fucking party, I guess,” Hyunjin says, leaning down to one of the kitchen pantries to grab his favorite bottle of wine. “You can just walk a minute and be in the comfort of your own bed”.

“Haven’t you drunk too much?” Jisung asks.

“Definitely not enough,” the dark-haired replies, grabbing both the bottle and a glass with one of his hands. “Tell Jeongin to kick everyone out by 2, I’m not paying for another noise complaint again”.

And as he makes his way to his room, it's inevitable for Hyunjin not to spare a glance at the couch you were once sitting on. But his eyes meet Changbin and his date instead, without any trace of you or the man you were with. And he doesn't know if he should feel relieved or worried because you're no longer in his eyesight, and as comforting as that thought should be is nothing more than anguish-inducing.

He says goodbye to some of his friends, and also deals with Changbin’s insistence to stay around before he is able to lock himself inside his room. It was, at best, a 3 minute situation from the kitchen to his bed, but it felt like ages. Mostly because his eyes kept on scanning the whole apartment, hoping to find something that could tell him you're still there and you didn't leave the party with that man although you probably did.

Much to his surprise, when he opens the door to his room, he finds you sitting at the edge of his bed.

You don't say anything, and neither does he. So you two stare at each other for a while before Hyunjin closes the door right behind him, leaving the wine and glass on a small table by the door.

“Wine? At a college party?” You finally interrupt the silence, using that playful, teasing tone you always use when you want to get on his nerves. “You really are something else”.

Typical Hyunjin would think of a comeback rather quicker than the speed of light —he has always been witty and good with his words, and that's something you find utterly, despicably attractive in him.

But after 4 shots of vodka and an unamusing mood, all he wants it’s to kick you out and plop down onto his bed.

“Weren’t you busy?” he asks in a murmur, too lazy to make himself be heard. But it is loud and clear for you to hear, even with the bustling coming from down the hall.

“He bored me,” you admit. “Kept talking about his football team, and how he is going to work at his father's company once he graduates”.

Hyunjin lets out a bitter and quiet scoff, giving you his back while he pours some wine onto his glass. You can’t fool him, even if you try like right now.

But he attempts to ignore his rapid heartbeats by keeping a nonchalant, even annoyed countenance, albeit a part of him can't ignore the fact that you're in his room.

Just you and him, finally.

“Are you going back to the party or…”

“I’m tired,” he cuts you short, chugging down the wine like it's a shot of anything else. Can't care less about etiquette when all he wants is to lose his sobriety along with his rationality. “I want to sleep”.

“It’s 10:30,” you tease him, cocking one of your eyebrows and giving him that look that always makes him feel ridiculous.

On any other day, that would've been fuel to erase that smile off of your face by pushing it onto the pillows while he fucks you from behind.

Tonight, though, it just blatantly stings.

“So?” The coldness in his voice makes you shudder, and when he doesn't respond like he usually does it's when you realize there's something different going on.

You and Hyunjin don't share that kind of intimacy. You don't tell him your problems, and he doesn't tell you his problems either. You don't comfort each other through words or romantic touches. You don't give words of encouragement and you don't talk things through.

If there's something to say, you do so through sex.

But right now, that you've interrupted his night, you feel somewhat compromised to ask if he is alright.

“Bad day?”

Bad week, bad month, bad year, a bad fucking life.

“Don’t have to act like you care,” Hyunjin says, resting his hips against the furniture while he pours himself another glass of wine.

The comment catches you off-guard. First and foremost, because you're not quite sure you don't care about him at all. And second, because he is making it seem like you are the reason behind his bad mood.

But if he doesn’t want to talk, you’re not going to force him to. After all, you’re in his room for one reason, and one reason only.

“Shit, sorry for asking,” you murmur, gripping the edge of the bed sheets with both of your hands. It's a common ground you've walked in, thousands of times. You've been in his bed for far more times than you can remember, and you've fucked a lot more than you can count. So you're not afraid of asking the question: maybe you should release some stress?

Hyunjin knows what you mean. He knows the sexual connotations of it, and knows that’s exactly the reason why you're in his room.

On any other day, Hyunjin would've taken your word. But right now, when his eyes can only focus on the crimson bruise on your neck, the proposition enrages him.

He walks towards you, completely towering over your figure. One hand holds the glass of wine, while the other cups your face and maneuvers it harshly, leaving the hickey for him to see.

“He bored you?” The way he spits such a question makes your heart skip a beat. Don’t leave a rough mark, you told the guy, just a faint hickey. Of course he wouldn’t care, and neither did you —otherwise you would’ve checked yourself in the mirror before approaching Hyunjin wearing someone else’s lovebites, “or he just wasn't the one you wanted to fuck tonight?”

You move your head away from his touch with a swift movement, immediately missing the warmth of his skin against yours, "does that even make a difference?"

But it doesn't.

In the end, you only look for him because you want a good fuck and it seemed like your date just couldn't get the job done.

Not because you want him, particularly.

“No,” Hyunjin replies coldly. “But you should at least have some decency, you know?”

You know he isn't teasing you, like he always does. He is not saying all this to get a reaction from you, and that unsettles you.

He is acting and saying such things because he means them. Because he feels like them.

“Since when do you care about what I do or I don't?” you ask him, the tone in your voice increasing as Hyunjin’s gaze intensifies.

“You can do whoever the fuck you want,” he murmurs, uncrossing his arms to grip at the edge of the furniture behind him.

“Well, I want to do you”.

“Maybe tonight I don’t,” Hyunjin gulps down the wine, having a way harder time swallowing the euphoric sensation of his ego rather than the alcohol coming down his throat.

And you stare at him like he just said something controversial. Something weird, something unusual coming from him.

“You’re lying,” you say, darting him a challenging look. “You always want me”.

“Why would I want something that everyone can have?”

It’s his anger talking. His rage, his uncertainty, his jealousy.

You're not wrong. He wants you, he always has and most likely always will.

But he is too proud to admit it, both to you and himself. Especially after you’ve walked into his room with the ghost of another man’s hands and lips, wearing a mark on your skin that will never compare to how Hyunjin has been allowed to mark you.

“So that’s the issue?” you defy him, standing up from the edge of his bed to walk forward. “You’re acting like this just because I was with someone else?”

Your mocking tone makes it seem like it's something ridiculous and irrational, but you've aced your initial hypothesis.

You are the reason behind his bad mood.

“Just get out,” Hyunjin says, tense jaw and cold eyes locked into yours. “You're getting on my nerves”.

Your tongue pokes through your cheek and you look at him in disbelief —you feel taken aback because of how he is acting, and you want to blame it on the alcohol he has ingested throughout the night. But he looks sober, and way more serious than his immature facade has ever made him appear.

“If I wanted to be with someone else tonight, I would’ve left your apartment a fucking hour ago,” the boldness in your voice only challenges Hyunjin to this staring contest he didn't know he is playing. Without blinking, without parting his gaze away, all his undivided attention is on you, and the way you're spitting your words like you're truly the one with a reason to be angry.

Needless to say, your audacity only infuriates him further.

“If you wanted to be with me, you would’ve come into my room the second you step a foot into the apartment,” he shoots back, straightening his body against the furniture and causing it to move an inch closer to you, “I mean, you know the way well, don’t you?”

He raises one of his eyebrows, and it’s embarrassing.

Pathetically embarrassing.

Stupidly idiotic.

“You've crawled on all fours from the door to my room before,” Hyunjin continues, tilting his head while his gaze falls from your eyes to your parted lips, “I'm sure that was enough for you to remember the path fairly well”.

It was one time, you say to yourself. And you'd rather die than having to admit such a humiliating thing to anyone other than him.

You'd rather die than having everyone know what you allow Hyunjin to do to you. You'd rather disappear into thin air than having to deal with the judgemental gazes from all of your friends.

The Hwang Hyunjin? The one you say you can't stand? The one that gets on your nerves because of how childish he is? The one you tell your friends you'd turn down a thousand times even if he was the last man standing on earth?

“Go fuck yourself, Hwang,” you're so close to him you can practically taste the red wine off of his lips. You're breathing the same air, hearts beating at the same rate.

You want him worse than you wanted him before —you like the feeling of his jealousy and his possessiveness. You like it when his hatred towards you transforms into hatred to anyone who dares to touch you; no one is allowed to have you like he is entitled to, and no one is allowed to hate you the way he does.

So he leaves the empty glass of wine behind, and guides one of his hands to your heated cheeks. He caresses it, pushing away the hairs from your face —the intimate touch might feel out of place and context, but you know damn well it's nothing more than the calm before the storm.

A calling.

A warning.

You know Hyunjin more than you'd ever want to admit, and you crave him worse than you'd ever allow yourself to think.

"God fucked you up by giving you this shitty ego,” he murmurs, brushing his lips ever so slightly against yours. It seems as if Hyunjin walked right into your trap without knowing, blinded by instincts and completely ignoring the awful show you put up earlier with a man you don't even know his name, “and he fucked me up even more for making me like it”.

It all happens in a fraction of second, too fast for you to catch some air and too sloppy for you to get the kiss right.

You're tasting the red wine, and his rage, and the longing lust you are always demanding from him whenever your body is against his. He kisses you ardently, teasing your tongue and biting your lower lip trying to fill you up just with him —to get rid of whoever kissed you first that night, and to intoxicate you with all of him for whoever will kiss you next.

One of his hands wraps around your figure, pressing you tighter against him, while the other swims through the roots of your hair, already in position to manhandle you like he knows he can.

The way he knows you want him to.

And you don't stop him when you feel the sting in your scalp, forcing you to break the kiss and down to your knees right in front of him in a careless way that will probably leave bruises.

“Said you wanted to do me?” Hyunjin asks, unzipping his pants with his available hand while the other holds your head still, despite your efforts to wipe away the drool from your lips and the hair sticking to your cheeks with his spit. “I’m right fucking here, do me”.

You look at him with loathing but it is nothing more than a projection: you hate yourself for how much you needed this.

For how much you need him.

“Don’t give me those eyes,” he falsely pouts, but the sound gets drowned in a grunt when he wraps his hand around his dick to stroke it a few times before guiding your mouth to the tip of it, “you want this”.

His gaze finds yours in the midst of the struggle, and the only way you can think of letting him know you're consenting to this is by sticking your tongue out and licking the tip of his cock, collecting all his salty precum and tasting it like you've been starving for it.

At the sight, Hyunjin chuckles lowly. Still as cold, still as enraged.

“Did you suck him off too?” he asks, using the grip on your hair as his favor —with ease, he slams his hips against your mouth, letting the tip of his cock reach parts of your throat that are still tense. “Does he taste as good as I do?”

Hyunjin doesn't need to know that you planned this all along —that you purposely did everything to get him jealous. He doesn't need to know that you like the thrill of it, of watching his possessive and jealous side.

He doesn't need to know that you utterly adore when he fucks you like he actually hates you. Like you mean nothing and everything to him at the same time.

Hyunjin doesn't need to know a lot of things, so you tag along with the fantasy of everything you've yet to deny.

“Relax,” more than a soothing word, it’s an order. He maneuvers your head all along his length, applying more pressure when your nose hits his pubic bone and then forcing you away to let you breathe. “You’ve taken this cock before, you know exactly how to do it”.

You try to regain control of your body, and your rationality, but it seems a rather useless task —when you're with Hyunjin, he is the one that does the thinking for you. When you're with him, you can't think of anything else but him, his voice, his eyes, the way he touches and kisses you, the way he tastes and the way he feels inside you.

“Too big,” you gasp in between thrusts of his hips against your lips. Your hand flies to reach the base of his cock, but he is quick to force you backwards with the grip on your hair.

“Do not touch me”.

“Hyun-”

“I said, do not touch me,” he repeats when you try to touch him again. “Do you really think you can go around touching other men and I won't do anything about it?”

Hyunjin wishes he wasn’t as prideful as he is —if he could swallow his ego easily, he could have your hands all over his body by now. But he is proud, and vengeful, and stubborn. No matter how much his skin is burning to feel the softness of yours against it, he needs to make his point.

“You’re- you can’t be serious,” you struggle between moans, with a voice so hoarse it's barely audible.

“There’s the door,” he forces your head towards it, “you can leave if you don’t like it”.

Your doe eyes, filled with anger and defy, dart between him and the door. Hyunjin is always the one in control, you're not really unfamiliar with that —the fact that he is acting like this, offering you a way out if you’re not willing to do things his way, makes you feel uneasy and curious.

You choose to stay only for the latter. Not because of anything else, right?

Right?

You don’t say anything, but fix your gaze on the man in front of you.

And Hyunjin gets it, he gets the look you're giving him. That, paired with the fact that you're not doing anything to get away from his grip, tells him that you're more than willing to keep on going, so he continues manhandling you around.

“C’mere,” he mutters when guiding your head along his cock again, making you swallow him full without giving you any kind of warning whatsoever, “just like that”.

You're gagging, and tearing up, and clearly struggling to take all of his cock. But never have you felt this hungry, and never have you felt this emptiness between your legs that only Hyunjin seems to be able to fill.

Your hands ache for his flesh, and so desperately you want to sink them on his thighs or ass; intertwine them with his, latch your fingers against his and squeeze them while you prove to him that he's the only one that gets to fuck your mouth like this.

“Please,” you cry out when he gives you a break to catch some air, “I need- let me touch you, please”.

"Should've thought of it before putting your hands on someone else," he hissed, brushing your hair wet with drool and tears away from your face. “Should’ve thought about me before running to another man”.

“Hyunjin”.

Oh, how pretty his name sounds falling from your lips —especially when accompanied with sobs and whimpers. You're always so cool and collected, like you control everything and everyone around you. You never cry, never show anyone else a crevice of what you truly are, but he is the only one that gets to see you like this. The only one you really trust, the only one you give control to.

If you hate him that much, why do you always come crawling back to him?

If you hate him that much, why is he the only one that gets to use you like this?

And if you hate him that much, why can't Hyunjin forget what he truly feels about you?

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, cleaning your mouth and chin with the back of your hand. “I’m fucking sorry, okay? I’m sorry”.

“For what exactly?” He is so close to you, you can feel the tip of his nose brushing against yours and get drunk on the wine that lingers in his breath. He is so close to you, he almost can't resist the urge of crashing his lips against yours again and taste himself off of you.

“I don’t know,” you look at him with teary eyes. You feel like crying, and Hyunjin can tell. “I don’t know, it’s just- I’m sorry, okay? If that’s what you want to hear, then I’m sorry”.

His eyebrows furrow.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” he says. “Your apologies mean nothing to me”.

Your heart stings, and it is unusual. He is unusual, painfully real unlike all the times you've pretended to hate each other just for the dynamic.

Blame it on the alcohol, or the stress he has been feeling lately, or the fact that you've been nothing but a brat these days, but Hyunjin is angry. And hurt.

“Your actions, on the other hand,” it's all he tells you with his bright eyes boring into yours. “I want you to show me how sorry you truly are”.

“Wha-”

He maneuvers you from the floor to his bed, forcing you on your back against the sheets you've grown to know fairly well. Your body writhes under him, and you fight back the urges to wrap your arms around his neck and force his body close to yours.

“How- am I supposed to show you?” you ask in between the struggle, moving your body to Hyunjin’s will. With your help, he unbuttons your jeans and scatters them along the floor, just like your blouse and underwear.

He lets out a soft scoff, blowing air through his nose, amused. "As if you don't know me that well".

And because you know him well, you can't avoid the eerie feeling of fear that settles up in the deepest pits of your chest when his cold gaze makes contact with yours.

“What are you going to do to me?” You ask, with your heart ringing loudly in your ears.

“You should be asking what you're going to do for me, instead,” he murmurs, caressing the sides of your body with a creepy delicacy that doesn't match his demeanor at all. "Don't you want to be forgiven?" It's a rhetorical question, you know that much. And you do want to be forgiven, but you're not quite sure what twisted idea Hyunjin has of an apology.

So you stay quiet, and hope for the best.

“You said you wanted me, right?” He asks yet again, fixing his eyes on yours. You just nod. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Yes,” you rush to say, “yes, I said I want you”.

“How bad?”

The endless teasing is making you frustrated, but you're used to that. However, you're not used to feeling tears prickling at the corners of your eyes with each second that passes by.

You need him desperately. You need his kiss, and tongue, and hands on every part of your body that you'd never allow anyone else to touch.

No matter how much you say you dislike Hyunjin.

“So fucking bad,” you cry out, kicking you head back against the pillow.

Hyunjin hums, peppering wet and sloppy kisses over your tummy and inner thighs. You feel his breath so close to your wet center that you can only hope he gives you the attention you need.

But that is not going to happen any time soon, and you know that.

“Fuck yourself,” he commands you, kneeling between your spread legs on top of his bed, “prove to me that you want me”.

You know the catch, know why Hyunjin is asking you such a thing.

He never does, unless he wants to punish you. And albeit not a rough punishment, there's nothing sweeter than watching you fall apart in frustration, to watch you deny yourself because he said so, to see you squirming in pain because you overstimulated yourself.

But then again, you'd do anything he says, just to be one step closer to him.

So you comply, with your index and middle finger shaking in anticipation as they make contact with your folds. Slowly but surely, you start fulfilling his demand —bitterly, with a look of disdain.

One of his hands spread your legs further, and he stays kneeling between your thighs as he watches you.

Impatient, eager, angry.

“I don’t have all day,” he finally snaps after a good 30 seconds of you just timidly teasing yourself. You can’t admit it out loud, but it is embarrassing —to have his eyes all over you but not his hands, to have your legs spread for someone who has no interest in touching you.

It's also embarrassing how wet you are by all of this. By his attitude, his anger and his jealousy.

“Sorry,” you barely mumble, sinking two fingers inside your throbbing pussy.

You feel nothing. Not pain, nor pleasure. Just nothing.

“One more,” Hyunjin tells you and you comply. But after getting used to him and his size, nothing fills you up anymore.

“You don’t- you don’t expect me to come just by this, do you?” You ask with a nervous scoff, biting down on your lower lip as you pull your fingers out just to thrust them inside again.

Hyunjin doesn't answer, and that only fuels your anguish even more. Instead, he fixes his eyes on your fingers, and the way they glisten with your wetness. He focuses on the sounds they make, and how warm you must feel after all the teasing.

You let out a whine, but it is not out of pleasure. It's a frustrated whine, a desperate one. You kick your head back, and fuck yourself harder with your fingers.

All your efforts are pointless.

“Don’t you dare,” Hyunjin warns you when your other hand slips to touch your clit.

“I- I can’t just come with this,” you groan.

“How is that my problem?”

It is humiliating —the way he is looking down on you, the way he is clearly amused by how stupid you must look right now touching yourself without feeling anything.

“Keep on going,” he tells you, licking his lips, “you won’t stop until you come”.

You shake your head and kick it against his pillow, trying to go impossibly deeper in hopes of finding that spot inside of you that only Hyunjin seems to know well.

Again, pointless.

“Come on,” you whine, now really on the brink of tears, “don’t do this to me”.

“You did this to yourself,” he simply says, and his digits graze against your naked legs.

The stimulation on your flesh is enough for you to clench around your fingers, and Hyunjin lets out a twisted smile when he sees the goosebumps flowering.

“Hyunjin”.

“Can’t come by yourself?” He asks with a fake empathy, “you need me for that, right?”

You know where this is heading, and you’re willingly letting him lead you that way —you nod, swallowing thickly.

“Yes,” you admit, hoping such a confession is enough to do something. Anything.

“Am I the only one who can make you come?”

“Yes, Hyunjin,” there's an inner conflict between your lust and your ego —you wish to fight back, but your mind is already surrendering. Your answer isn't far from the truth anyways, so why is it so difficult to admit it out loud? “Yes, you’re the only one”.

“That’s what I thought,” he whispers quietly, dragging the tip of his digits along your spread thighs.

You’re aroused and whriting in anticipation, You’re aroused and trembling in anticipation, your whole body is ready for him, anything he wants to give you, and he can tell.

That's probably the worst part of it all —your mouth can always voice how much you hate him, but your body will keep on betraying you every time.

“I can’t,” you murmur, relentlessly trying to get yourself to your high, “I can't do this on my own anymore, you're the only one who can”.

It's embarrassing to admit such a thing, both to him and yourself —it's not like you're saying so just to get what you want.

You're saying so because it's the truth, because not even you nor your toys can get you to come like Hyunjin does.

“Remember that every time you even think about being with someone else,” Hyunjin’s body hovers over you, fitting perfectly between your open legs. “No one is going to make you feel like I can”.

You drown a moan when you feel his clothed erection pressing against your folds. The fabric of his pants is rough, but your body unconsciously grinds on it.

“Just fuck me, Hyunjin,” you beg, wrapping your legs around his hips and feeling his warmth spreading from your chest to your limbs, “please, please, please”.

He needs you just as much.

And his intention was never to deny you, but to remind you that you belong to him. Whether you want to admit it or not, whether you even know it —your body responds to Hyunjin, and Hyunjin only.

“Patience is a virtue, you know?” He scoffs, sneaking a hand between your bodies to slide the tip of his dick against your folds, “I spent all night looking how someone else got his hands all over you”.

You tremble underneath him, begging for anything he might want to give you.

“It wasn’t a pretty sight, you know?” Hyunjin continues, “it kills me that no one knows you're mine”.

Your heart skips a beat at his rageful words, as you breathe the same oxygen that leaves his lungs.

“Hyunjin”.

“I hate the fact that I just can’t kiss you when I feel like it,” he presses his forehead against yours, taunting your lips with his. “Can’t even fuck you when I want, without caring if someone hears or not”.

There's a pinch of frustration and despair in his voice. Like he is asking you to read between the lines, to give some sense to his words.

“We hate each other, don’t we?” You remind him, digging your nails in the flesh of the sides of his body.

“Do you really think this is hate?” He asks, and presses his hips against yours. You feel his hardened length getting coated with your wetness, and you can’t help but moan.

“Everybody thinks we can’t stand each other,” you wrap your legs around his hips, forcing him to make a move. And as if on cue, he gets what you’re demanding —he slides the tip of his dick in, so easily that it's hard to believe your body wasn't perfectly made for him.

“But no one knows what we do behind their backs, do they?” He asks, grunting quietly when he finally bottoms out, “they don’t know how good we fuck each other, how good we make us feel”.

It's not the time to pause and reflect about the dynamic you've shared with Hyunjin over the past year. It's also not the time to think about what could happen if you were to reveal to your closest friends what you and Hyunjin have.

It's exciting to keep things a secret, but you're not quite sure how long you can go without one of you getting tired of it.

It's not the time, and you don't dwell on it because you soon feel Hyunjin's hips slowly pulling and then bottoming out again. The sudden hit of his pubic bone against your swollen clit sends shivers down your spine, and you hug him tightly against you.

“Because you make me feel so good,” he murmurs, leaving a wet trail of kisses from your lips, to your chin and jaw, “so fucking good”.

You clench around him at his words, and he lets out a raw moan.

“You too,” you swallow thickly, “you too- make me feel so good”.

“Just me?”

“Just you Hyunjin- fuck,” you bite down the flesh on his shoulders when his hips snap against yours, making your whole body jolt, “like that, fuck me like that”.

With painfully slow but hard strokes, Hyunjin pounds his dick inside your wet pussy.

The lewd noises it makes, paired with his skin hitting yours, drowns his bedroom. They also drown the bustle behind the door, the faint voices of those who are still outside partying and drinking.

Those who don't know how much you love fucking Hyunjin, and how much he loves fucking you.

“I have to make sure it's only me who gets to have you like this,” and with that being said, he sinks his teeth and nibbles at the flesh where burgundy and purple bruises rest.

You arch your back in pain, feeling your neck burning. He holds you in place as you writhe beneath him, placing all his weight over you to prevent you from squirming away from him.

“It’s just a little pain,” his soft voice coos, grabbing the sides of your neck with one of his hands while his lips attack the love bites made by someone else, “nothing compared to what you made me feel tonight”.

Your heart starts beating faster at his words.

“I’m sorry,” tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you still let Hyunjin mark you.

You want him to, anyway. No matter how painful it can be.

“I know you are,” he hums, satisfied with the way you’re clenching around him.

He kisses your flesh softly, trying to soothe the pain away, and you move your hips, desperate to have him moving inside of you again.

He loses no time into it, holding his weight back off of you to continue on fucking you.

“You look so pretty now,” he twistedly smiles, with a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead and nose, “my lips and teeth look so good on you”.

The minute he bites down his lower lip and his eyes go blank, you start feeling the tension building up inside your abdomen. You’re close, and you’re desperate to come.

“Hyunjin,” one of your hands holds his bicep, while the other makes a mess of the bed sheets beneath you.

“Not yet,” he warns you, and at that you let out a frustrated sound, “hold it a bit longer, come with me”.

You close your eyes shut and kick your head back, hoping that if you don't look at him, you can prolong the time before you come. But he is fucking you so good, and his dick is hitting all the right spots inside of you, that you really don't think you can hold it as long as he wants you to.

“Please,” you cry out, this time tearing up. You can’t help it —the tears fall from your closed eyes without a warning. They stain your cheeks, and get lost in the crook of your neck that is still burning with Hyunjin’s love bites.

“Open your eyes,” his hand cups your face, and you snap them open as a reflex, “let me see you crying”.

His words ignite a fire inside you, just as much as your tears do to him. His cock twitches at the sight of your clouded eyes and the way they beg for his release.

It’s the first time he sees you cry,

and it shouldn't arouse him as much as it does. He knows what's behind those tears, and maybe that's the reason why he is enjoying them.

Frustration, rage, despair, attraction, obsession, infatuation.

He buries his nose on the flesh of your cheek and kisses your tears, one by one, as he continues pounding himself inside of you.

“Can’t-” you murmur, digging your nails on his shoulders. Hyunjin hisses at that. “I can’t hold it”.

“Give it to me,” he finally exhales, increasing the movements of his hips. And you comply —you give your orgasm to him, squeezing his cock almost aggressively. Your body trembles and he hugs it tightly, fucking you through your high as he comes with you.

“Fuck, Hyunjin,” at one point, your body goes limp —the pleasure becomes too strong that you melt into his arms.

He moans your name, over and over again, until his voice becomes a whisper, and his hips relax into yours. His body rests on top of you, hugging you, pressing kisses to your forehead and temples while you wrap your arms around him. He doesn't pull out, and you don't want him to —at least not yet.

Sex with Hyunjin always goes a little bit like this, but it never feels as intimate as it does right now.

Your sweating bodies are pressed against each other, and your hearts are beating at the same rate. Your mouth tastes like red wine, despite you not having drunk any, and Hyunjin’s chest smells like your perfume.

The crescent moon-like imprints from your nails are still pulsing on his shoulders and back with desire, and your neck still burns with his possessiveness.

It seems as though you two are one, and it is impossible to deny it.

If hate is another synonym for infatuation, you might as well be willing to hate each other until death.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #hyunjin smut #kpop smut #hwang hyunjin smut

710 notes · View notes

writteninkat · 2 months

Text

printed in crimson | Bakugou x Reader

synopsis: Your problems? One, you like Katsuki Bakugou, but he's the personification of a red flag. And two, you like to see how red the flag can get.

warnings: toxic relationship, smut, asshole katsuki, dumbass reader

wc: 3.9k

a/n: not proofread

navigation

Katsuki pushes your head on the mattress, fucking you roughly as he chases his own high. Your cunt clenched at his rough treatment, eyes rolling back in pleasure.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He chants, tightening his grasp on yoyr hair. "God this pussy loves me." Gasping, he lifts your hips up in the air, letting go of your strands as he sharply slaps your ass, using some of his quirk.

The area blooms with heat as your orgasm catches you offguard, your walls clamping down at the desperate man behind you. He bottoms inside you, voice raspy and deep as he reaches his own high, half his body falling on you.

"Get the fuck off me." You bite out, pushing yourself from under him. As your actions push his cock out of you, the feeling of his load dripping down your thighs make you shiver.

Walking towards your bathroom, you try your best to ignore the tenderness between your legs. You grit your teeth together just as you walk in, slamming the door behind you.

You face your mirror, immediately pissed at the marks he left all over your neck and torso. Bitten and bruised, you touch on the particularly swollen part on your shoulder. You remember him sinking his teeth there after you rode him so hard and fast your abs ached.

Clicking your tongue, you step under the shower, letting the warmth of the water ease you back into a peaceful state of mind.

"You lying bitch." Momo's eyebrows are knitted in fury, her gazed casted on your neck. Everyone else in the table follows her line of sight, a series of disappointed groans and tired sighs erupting from them.

You brings your hand up to cover the spot, rolling your eyes. "I thought I'd be better at color correcting now." You mumble.

Ochaco crosses her arms in dismay, glaring at you.

"Oh, come on, guys! I'm sorry, I made an honest mistake!" You whine, "This is the last time, I promise!"

"How the hell do you mistakenly fuck Katsuki Bakugou?" Momo chastises, her glare feeling like multiple knives stabbing you in the same place. Just in different angles. And they're all on fire.

"Look, our agencies had a meeting, the both of us were the last ones to leave the room-"

"So you fucked him?" Momo summarizes.

Before you even get a word out, Izuku cuts in. "Isn't it weird how Kacchan is very vocal about his hate for you and yet he still goes back everytime your paths cross?"

"I think 'hate' is too much of a strong word." Tsuyu voices her thoughts.

"No it's not. And if you think it is, you can shove that opinion up your ass. He hates me and I hate him. That's just simple facts." You frown, heart softening at the sight of Tsuyu dejected.

You hold your hand up at her, "Sorry- sorry Tsu. I just- it's been a rough week." You sigh.

"You mean a rough night?" Tenya cackles, making you shift your glare at him.

"That's one, Iida." You bite out.

"You claim you hate him, yet you still bed him." Shoto points out, sipping on his green tea. "I wonder why that is."

Yet again, right before you could defend yourself, your friends begin to jump at you.

"It's cause her favorite color's red." Momo jokes.

Ochaco shakes her head, "No, I'm pretty sure she once claimed to be a flagpole."

Kyoka, who's been silent all this time, spits her drink. "Nah, nah. She just likes to see how red the flag gets." She laughs, punching soft jabs at your arm as you glare at her.

"Alright, you know what! I'm not gonna stand for this!" You slam your palms on the table, standing from your seat. "I'm a good person, alright?! If I every treat you like shit, then that's on you. You provoked me."

Shoto raises a brow at you. "And what does it mean if you tolerate being treated like shit?"

The table is silent for a moment before your narrow your eyes at the hero, "Shut the fuck up and drink your tea." You sneer, sitting back down, crossing your arms and legs.

Just as the topic shifts to another, the cafe's bell rings, announcing someone's arrival. Your eyes train to the sound, widening at the sight of familiar red hair. His eyes scan the room before falling on your table, a wide, spiky smile stretching across his face. "Hey guys! Didn't know you all would be here!"

"Hey Eiji!" You smile back at him, allowing him to engulf you in a big hug.

A hand appears on his bicep, squeezing it tightly. "Hands to yourself." Katsuki's voice rumbles from behind the red head.

"Don't tell him what to do." You glower at the blond, arms tightening around his best friend's waist in defiance. You look up at Eijiro with wide, pleading eyes. "Hug me, Eij." You pout.

You can feel everyone's stares at you as Eijirou raises a brow in question. You ignore the fuming Katsuki behind him, softly squeezing his back in encouragement. Eijirou sighs, gently pushing you away. "Sorry babe, I don't wanna get in between whatever bullshit you and Bakubro are into."

Your table cackles as you roll your eyes at the red head.

"I have work to finish." You take your bag and your drink as it's still halfway full. "I'll see you guys soon." Without making eyecontact with anyone, you swiftly leave the cafe.

You take out a cigarette from your purse, keeping it between your mouth as you blindly search for your lighter. "Fuck." You curse, turning a corner. Now away from curious eyes, you begin shuffling throigh the numerous shit inside your little purse until a hand grabs your shoulder.

Immediately out into fight mode, you grab onto the person's forearm, about to throw them into a body slam but their actions are quick. You're spun around and slammed into the wall behind you, your eyes falling on familiar vermilion orbs.

"What do you want, Katsuki?" Your eyes narrowed and tone sharp, you attempt to break free from his hold, but the numerous times you've tried this in bed reminds you you're simply wasting your energy.

"You ignore me after the night we had? You hurt my feelings, princess." He smirks, moving his head towards you. "Don't fucking call me that." You spit. "And so what if I do? You don't control me."

"A few nights together tells me I do, actually."

Your nape burns at his statement.

"Keep talking like that and I'll remind you just how flammable your penthouse is." Your threat falls on deaf ears as he presses his body against yours. His lips press against your ear, hot breath fanning over the shell. "You gotta stop using this shit." He plucks the cigarette out of your mouth, crushing it between his fingers.

"I take it cause of you. You stress me the fuck out." Your menacing look is exchanged with a raised brow.

"And you think that little attitude of yours doesn't give me headaches?" He scoffs, apparently appalled by this personality of yours he's already familiar with.

You smile sweetly, "Your prettiest headache, right?"

Katsuki freezes at your question, surprisingly stumped before it resumes to his usual frown. He lets go of you, his fierce stare stuck on you for a few moments before he clicks his tongue and walks away.

"Hell's his problem?" You mutter, taking your pack of cigarettes once more. As you hold a stick between your fingers, you stare at it for a moment, nibbling on your lip in contemplation before sighing. You place the stick back inside the pack, returning it inside your purse before leaving the narrow alley.

The hero's gala is filled with sparkling dresses and pressed suits. You're stuck in a conversation with some foreigner hero, laughing and nodding at the right time, and only talking when you actually listen to whatever he's saying.

You can't help but scan the room for a familiar blond. Yeah, the invitation said you could bring a plus one, but he won't actually bring someone, right? He simply isn't the type.

"And how is hero work here in Japan? Ever thought of moving to a different country?" You look up at the hero in question. "I enjoy the work I do here, so no, I've never thought to emigrate, but maybe I will in the future. We never know." You shrug your shoulders, chuckling as he and the other heroes around you laugh boisterously.

You space out, their voices muffled as you swirl the wine in your glass. Bringing it up your lips, you're about to tilt it up when you hear a familiar name from behind you.

"-Bakugou. Or, Dynamight." A feminine voice introduces.

"Of course I know Dynamight! He's one of my favorite heros!" An older male voice replies loudly.

You furrow your brows, turning around. Just as expected, you come face to face with Katsuki. The suit looks impeccable on him, buttons fighting for their lives to keep the shirt closed and the arm sleeves barely containing his meaty biceps.

His eyes drop on yours, bored and uninterested. Your stare shifts to the beautiful brunette in his arms. Unsure whether it's jealousy or anger, or simply just hurt and betrayal that's making your blood boil, you softly excuse yourself from the guests around you.

Without another look back, you make your way to the balcony, taking a deep breath of the cold night air.

Annoyed.

Exactly, I'm annoyed to see him. His face is annoying, that's why I was pissy.

You're really just convincing yourself at this point.

Looking out into the mountain ranges that overlooks the balcony, you feel a sense of calm and peace. The tranquility lasts for only a minute until it's shattered once more by the familiar scent of sweet caramel.

"Who'd the unlucky guy you brought?" He asks, taking up the space beside you. Huffing in annoyance, you roll your eyes at nothing.

"For your information, if I did bring anyone tonight, it'd be the best night of their life."

Katsuki furrows his brows, glancing at you with confusion written all over his space. "You, on the other hand, seems to have made it your goal to ruin that poor girl's night." You face him, memorizing his fazed expression before turning back towards the double doors.

"She's beautiful, make sure she enjoys the party."

And with that, you step away from him. Except you try/ to, when he grabs your wrist, spinning you back around.

"Why didn't you bring a date?" You raise a brow at his question, rolling your eyes as you attempt to free your wrist from his grasp.

"Is it any of your business? Let go!" You demand, pulling your wrist from him as hard as you can. Katsuki doesn't budge, his chest rising and falling furiously as his eyes penetrate yours.

"Katsuki, I said let go-"

"Did you want it to be me?" He asks, shoving his face towards yours.

"You- what?" You tilt your head in confusion, "No!" You lie. "Of course not!"

"Liar."

Fury swirls in your stomach as you raise your hand, slapping him across the face. His grip loosens, taken aback.

You stand there, one arm suspended in the air and the other folded against your chest. A red mark begins to bloom on his cheek.

Swallowing harshly, you take him by his collar, pulling him against you as you press your lips together. Immediately, Katsuki kisses back feverishly, hands moving all over your body. One hand squeezes your waist while the other grabs your ass, pulling your ody towards his. He backs you up against the balustrade, both hands moving up your sides, embracing tightly you as if you were gonna slip from his arms any second.

You run your hands up his chest, scratching your nails up his nape until they bury themselves into his hair. His tongue dances with yours in a consuming, desperate song. He tastes of sweet wine and chocolate, your senses hightening, making your head grow light.

He pulls away, your breaths clashing with each other as you you look up into his eyes. They scream with devastation and anguish, it makes you question everything he's done to you in the past.

His hands begin to frantically undo his belt, your eyes widening as you look behind him. The curtains were drawn to cover the glass doors, probably to hide the fact that this balcony existed. But it'll only take one swipe and everyone inside would see the both of you in this state.

"Katsuki, I don't think-"

"Shut the fuck up and open your legs." He growls, using his thigh to part them. The second he makes contact with your pulsing cunt, all reason flies out your brain through a needy moan.

You look down between the both of you, watching him pump his cock once, twice, spreading his precum all over his member before he positions himself to be right infront of your hole.

You nibble on your lower lip, allowing him to push your panties to the side. Without wasting another moment, Katsuki thrusts his entire length inside you, your teeth drawing blood as you struggle to stay quiet. Katsuki softly brushes his thumb against your cheek, pressing on your lip for you to let go.

"Red looks amazing on you." He says, eyeing the blood staining your lip. Without pausing his hips, he lowers his lips down to yours, tongue peeking out as he brushes it against the crimson.

"Fuck, you make me crazy." He mutters, pulling back. He grabs the backs of your thighs, pulling them to his hips as he fucks you harder, faster.

You grab onto his shoulder for support, digging your nails onto his shoulder as your back arches. "Fuck yeah, fuck yeah Katsuki." You breathe out, slowly leaning back. Your hair bounces and trickles behind you until they're completely hanging off.

"God, this pussy should be classified as a drug." He grunts, his pace rougher now. "Can't seem to fucking quit it."

The balustrade can only be so wide, it can only accompany your ass and lower back. As you try to pull yourself back up, Katsuki wraps his hand around your throat, pushing you back.

"Katsuki!" You manage to breathe out, his grip straining. "I'm gonna fall!" You wheeze, clawing at his arm as he continues to fuck you with abandon.

"Imagine that." He smirks, leaning over. "Once I let go, you fall fifty feet. Legs still wide open and my cum dripping out of you."

Your eyes widen as the blond bites and nips at your chest, pulling the dress down to reveal your breasts. He takes a nipple inside your mouth, sucking on it harshly as his gaze glue themselves on you. Your eyelids flutter and your walls clamp down on his cock, the stimulation burning a fire of euphoria in your belly.

"Like that, huh? Like it when I hold your life in my hand?" He chuckles darkly, repeating his action to your other tit. The slapping of his skin against yours fill the balcony, the erotic sound filling your head with bliss as you forget about the life or death situation the hero has put you in, chasing your own high instead.

"That's it, fucking come for me princess." He pinches your clit, ripping an orgasm out of you. Your thighs clench together around his hips as your head tips over. You watch the world in an upside down manner as waves upon waves of ecstacy drift throughout your body.

As the feeling recedes, you're being pulled from danger and dropped onto the floor, the sticky and warm feeling of cum dripping down your inner thighs.

"Asshole." You growl at the blond fixing his pants.

You follow him, pulling your panties and dress back in place before holding onto the railings for support as you begin to stand up.

Katsuki stares at you for a moment, eyes looking desperate, as if he wants to say something, before averting his gaze. He clears his throat, clenching his hand into a fist then walks off without a word, leaving you in the balcony.

It's cold.

You're alone.

And you feel like crap.

You lean on the railing for a moment, wondering to yourself why you can't leave whatever this relationship you have with Katsuki. It isn't healthy at all.

You want a man who'll cook breakfast for you after sex, someone who'll clean you up and give you snuggles. Someone who cares about what you think and say.

"Oh, hey you." Your head flicks up at the new voice, your sights one Shinsou as he exits the ballroom. His hair is combed back, a simple suit on and in his hand is a sparkling glass of champagne.

"Ah, hey." You wipe off the tear you didn't realize fell. You turn around, a weak attempt to hide your welling eyes from him.

"You okay?" He asks, taking over the space Katsuki had just stood in before fucking you up.

"Ah, yeah. I'm fine." You chuckle nervously, pressing your lips together as you continue wiping off multiple tears that stream down on their own.

Shinsou stares at you before turning his gaze towards the mountains.

It's still quiet and peaceful. Shinsou doesn't disrupt the tranquility like Katsuki does. And he doesn't push or order you to tell him what's on your mind—he simply just stands there, waiting for you to finish.

"Actually-" You sniff, "I'm not okay."

"I gathered that." He takes a sip of his champagne.

You chuckle at your pathetic state, fidgeting.

"I keep going for shitty guys." Your lower lip wobbles, "And I don't know why. My therapist says they're simply my pattern, but I can never understand the root cause of it." You squint, remembering all the painful memories of the jerks you used to date. And the one jerk you can't seem to let go of.

"Maybe it's cause you think you don't deserve better." Shinsou places his now empty glass on the marble balustrade, turning his head towards you. "What is it you want?"

You look into the distance, your teeth playing with your lower lip as the pain from before resurfaces.

"I want a good guy. Someone who takes care of me, listens to me. Someone who shuts the fuck up for once." You chuckle, turning to Shinsou.

The man already has his body facing directly at you, flashing you a rare smile. "And Katsuki Bakugou isn't that for you."

Your brows curl in disappointment, "But I want him-"

Shinsou softly places his thumb on your lips, effectively shutting you up. "Leave him alone before the big man up there takes away that choice."

Your eyes widen, hand moving to your belly.

"You're an amazing woman. You'll find the right person to... shut the fuck up and listens to you." His smile grows wider before he takes his hand back, stepping away from you and returning inside.

You blink once, twice, before letting out a tired sigh. Just as you're about to return inside, you notice a piece of paper underneath Shinsou's empty champagne glass.

He'd scribbled his number on it. When? You have no idea. But he must have inserted it while you were busy gazing at nothing. You pull it off, inspecting it.

Should I take this chance? Call him tomorrow, maybe?

"He'll bore you." A deep and gravelly voice you know all too well sounds from behind you, making you freeze. The paper is plucked from your fingers as Katsuki moves toward you, his face right beside yours. The both of you look at the numbers scribbled on the paper.

"And you deserve someone who'll keep you on your toes."

"Being in a healthy relationship wouldn't be boring, it'd be peaceful." You say, trying to convince yourself.

"You don't want peace, princess. You wanna see the red flags in shapes of hearts." He whispers into your ear, making you swallow hard.

"You're not a fucking carnival, Katsuki." You grit out.

"But you love the rides I offer." He chuckles, making your head snap towards him.

"Shinsou will treat me the way I deserve." You defend.

"He won't treat you the way you want, princess. How you truly want it. You go with him and ten years later you're sitting at home taking care of one and a half kids, with a white picket fence around your house as you wait for Mind Control to get home." He talks as if he can see the future. "Is that what you want?"

The picture he painted terrifies you.

Your eyes return to the paper in the blond's grasp.

"I'll answer that for you." He whispers, pressing a kiss against your neck as multiple tiny explosions go off on his palm, effectively burning the small paper.

He wraps an arm around your center, pulling your body onto his as he licks your neck. "You're never getting rid of me, princess. I'm gonna ruin your life the same way you ruined mine."

"You just hate progression, don't you?" Momo raises a brow as she stares at the marks on your neck. You didn't bother to cover them up this time—she'll still be able to spot them.

"More like she's regressing." Tenya jabs, making you pinch his side. He exclaims in pain, going on a tangent about how you shouldn't do that while you tune him out, looking out through the glass window.

"I'm bored." You yawn.

"And Katsuki Bakugou isn't the game you wanna play." Kiyoka deadpans, taking a sip of her coffee.

"I beg to differ. I simply haven't learned the cheat codes yet." You smile, taking your iced caramel macchiato.

"I'll tell you the codes—unplug the damn game and get another one." Izuku sighs tiredly, leaning back into his seat. "I swear, one day you're gonna end up killing the dude cause you found out he fucked a different girl."

You giggle, leaning into Tenya, taking a sip out of your coffee.

"And you didn't give Shinsou a chance?" Tsuyu asks, taking a bite out of her cake. The corners of your lips pull into a frown as you shake your head. "Nah, I memorized his number and sent him a text last night. We're meeting for drinks later."

Momo's eyes widen as Ochako looks at you with bewilderment. "What-" Ochako stutters, "I'm confused. Are the both of you going on a date?"

"What? No!" You giggle, "We're having drinks as friends! Thought maybe I should expand my circle. I don't wanna keep getting shit from you guys." You roll your eyes.

"Uhuh..." Izuku draws out, "And how does Kacchan feel about this?"

"He doesn't need to know." You place a finger against your lips.

Momo's eyebrows raise, impressed by your reply. "You're learning a lot from him, huh? Doesn't seem like something I want you to be doing."

You simply shrug, returning your gaze outside as you tilt your head up. Past the waving leaves of the trees, is a window. You smirk as you think about how Katsuki must take you for an idiot. Your phone vibrates beside you and you lift it, the screen instantly lighting up to show a notification form 'settings' with the settings picture on the side. You smile, clicking on it.

Settings: Since when did you notice?

You: Ever since we got here.

You: Stick to being a hero, Katsuki. You're not very good at trailing people.

Settings: Shut the fuck up

Your turn your phone off before returning your attention to your friends, butterflies erupting in your stomach, extremely excited at what's to come in the near future.

Sure thing is, you won't be taking care of one and a half babies for sure.

224 notes · View notes

ihavethedreamies · 6 months

Text

Mine | Jaemin

Na Jaemin - NCT Dream

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~9.3k

Pairing: Jaemin x AFAB!Reader

Genre: Reader-Insert, Fluff, Jealousy, Friends-to-Lovers, Smut

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Swearing, Kissing, Oral (F! Receiving), Fluffy Smut

Author's Note: This is for my bestest friend in the world. Jaemin is her ultimate favorite and this might very well make her explode. Which is the goal. She didn't ask for smut, but… That is why it’s a bit more…fluffy/vanilla than my other stuff, because it's for her >3>

There is a bit of cross-over between groups here. Changbin and Felix of Stray Kids are in it directly and Wooyoung of ATEEZ is mentioned.

Fun Fact: the middle pic in the banner is actually of Hyunjin

Edit (8/25/24): I changed the text/chat pictures to just text.

I am cross-posting this on Archive. Please reblog! If you know anyone that would like this or future fics but they aren't on here my name and icon are exactly the same on the other site. Happy reading!

"Hey, you know my friend Changbin?" your friend asked as she applied her lip balm, looking in a handheld mirror. You simply blinked at this, considering it wasn’t even tinted and you pondered why she needed the mirror.

"Yes?" You shook your head, looking back to your laptop. You and Yuna were sitting at a table in one of the on-campus cafés . Studying in the library was hard because you two could get kind of rowdy and it was hard to stay quiet.

"He’s been trying to get me to set him up with one of my girl friends…" She drifted off, casting you a not very subtle look. You had never seen the guy, just knew he was a gym rat, and he was friends with your ex. Rubbing your eye as your vision blurred from staring at your screen too long, she leaned into your blind spot, which startled you when your eye refocused.

"What?" You grumbled and she sighed dramatically, resting her cheek on the table.

"Please?" She immediately started to beg, just repeating the word over and over.

"Oh my god, fine!" You relented. A bit hesitant since he was so close with Wooyoung. You weren’t sure if it was a good idea to go out with a friend of your ex.

"What if we do a double date?" Yuna could tell you were a bit hesitant, and the thought of tag-teaming was better.

"Okay, like a double blind-date thing?" you asked, and her face lit up.

"Yes! Bring me someone hot." She winked and you huffed. Going over your own friend group in your head, you tried to figure out who was best for her. You immediately threw your roommate Jisung out. He was way too shy and quiet for her, and she was a lot for anyone. Chenle was also out, that would be way too much loud in your life since he essentially lived with you as well with how much he was over. Renjun wasn’t Yuna’s type, she doesn’t go out with guys she claims are prettier than her. Mark was…something was going on with Yuta that you didn’t have the time to ponder on. Donghyuck could work but he, surprisingly, was pretty serious when it came to dating and wasn’t a fan of flings. Jeno? He could work, but you were pretty sure he was supposed to be going somewhere for a cycling race. That left Jaemin. The thought made your stomach twinge a bit, but you couldn’t pinpoint why. His stupid goofy grinning face flashed in your mind and quickly changed to the cocky smirk he wore when he flirted. Which he did a lot. You decided you were nervous for Yuna because he was such a flirt, but then again, so was she. Deep down you knew you had a bit of a crush on him despite the fact that you declared you never would. Every time some guy rose in popularity on campus, they were immediately disqualified. He had been your friend before that happened to him, but you begrudgingly followed the crowd as he rose to be number one pretty fast. I mean, you weren’t surprised, you had eyes. Jeno was also really high up there, but he seemed more like a brother to you. He was like a sweet puppy dog, Jaemin was more like a lion. Lazy and beautiful.

"I’ll ask Jaemin…" You mumbled to yourself, and she perked up.

"Wait, Na Jaemin?"

"Yes? That okay?"

"Fuck yeah, that’s okay, holy shit!" She cackled to herself, and you grumbled, typing out a quick message to him.

☀️: Wanna go on a blind date? 🐰: Why would I be blind? ☀️: You know what I mean dumbass. 🐰: who ☀️: My friend Yuna. She wants to set me up with her friend and so we decided to do a double. 🐰: you too? ☀️: Yeah that's what I mean by double... 🐰: who ☀️: Her friend Changbin. He's one of Wooyoung's friends too. 🐰: hm

What did that mean? There were two ends of the spectrum of messaging Jaemin. You either got very short answers like right then, or way too many emojis.

🐰: hm 🐰: works out a lot? ☀️: Yeah, him. 🐰: hm ☀️: What does that mean? 🐰: wouldn't you like to know

You rolled your eyes and waited as the little dots bounced as he typed. Then they would stop, then start, then stop. What the hell was taking him so long.

🐰: wouldn't you like to know ☀️: You good, fam? 🐰: yeh, i shall go ☀️: You shall? I didn't even say when... 🐰: when then

"When are you thinking?" You turned to Yuna who was typing on her phone, probably with her guy friend.

"Friday night, 7?" She didn’t even look up from her phone.

"Where?" You got ready to relay the information.

"Uh…he told you to pick." She sniggered at something else on her phone, so you went back to yours.

🐰: when then ☀️: Friday at 7. 🐰: where ☀️: You decide. 🐰: hmm ☀️: Hurry up, I need to keep working. 🐰: have your computer program decide ☀️: I'm coding a program for the periodic table it can't do that.

He was getting on your nerves, and you pondered why the hell you even liked him. For probably everything else but how he texted, but that was beside the point.

☀️: I'm coding a program for the periodic table it can't do that. 🐰: taeyong's place ☀️: That's expensive... 🐰: so? ☀️: Not all of us are financially stable. 🐰: I...will pay~ ☀️: You will? 🐰: not for him ☀️: I'll make sure it's okay...

"Ask him if he’s okay going somewhere fancy. Our friend started as a chef at some place called Kwangya, but it’s pricey. Jaemin said he’ll pay for us." You put your phone down to pull up the website to get an idea of the prices. It wasn’t like a Michelin star-level place or anything, but it was nicer than most college students would usually go for. Looking over the menu you saw the cheapest entrée was still like twenty dollars.

"Oh shit, that looks good, let me ask him." Yuna leaned in, resting her cheek on your shoulder to look at your screen, then she went back to her phone.

"He said that’s perfect, he’ll pay for you he said." Your friend wiggled her eyebrows, and you exhaled through your nose.

☀️: I'll make sure it's okay... ☀️: You're in luck. He's in and will pay for me too. 🐰: no ☀️: No? 🐰: i pay ☀️: It wouldn't make sense for you to pay for me and your date... 🐰: I pay ☀️: Okay, whatever, you two can figure it out then... 🐰: wear pink ☀️: That's not your decision. 🐰: hm

You rolled your eyes; he was so freaking odd sometimes…Most times. After all the details got ironed out, you both went back to studying and working before heading your separate ways around four. When you got back to your apartment, your eyes immediately found a foreign pair of shoes by the door. Jisung was always sure to put his on the shoe rack with yours, and Chenle’s were simply thrown somewhere on the floor, but these were set nicely by the rack. Who was there? Dolphin laughter could be heard from the living room, and you guessed Chenle had maybe brought someone. Jisung didn’t have too many people he knew past the other six. The rest of their friends would almost all just have their shoes in a pile or would use the rack…

"Noona~" Chenle shouted in delight as you came in and you couldn’t hide a smile.

"Hi, Lele."

"Did you get your program finished?" Jisung’s much quieter and deeper voice brought your attention as he came out of the laundry room. There definitely was third person there, an unfamiliar bag was resting against the coffee table. Maybe they were in the bathroom.

"Who is here?" you asked and Jisung stiffened, worried you might be upset. Little did he know, you could never be upset with your most precious.

"My friend Felix." Chenle was strewn across your armchair.

"The one from Australia?" You made sure you got it right and he nodded. He was looking at his phone as he typed, a growing look of distaste spreading over his face.

"What’s wrong?" Jisung asked the other guy, moving to sit back down on the couch, picking up his laptop. You could hear the washer going and you really hoped he didn’t put too much soap in again. As you joined them in the living room, you set your bag down next to the couch and flopped on the opposite end of your roommate.

"Jaemin." Is all he said, and you rolled your eyes, understanding his sentiment. Guess he was being weird with everyone today.

"I hope it’s okay, I might have stained the sink…" A deep voice caught you off guard and you turned so fast to see the owner your neck popped. He was…beautiful.

"What do you mean?" You finally registered his comment after a few seconds of staring.

"His pen leaked." Jisung answered and Felix showed you the faded blue stain on his hands.

"Oh, that’s okay." You assured him, still gaping. He came to sit back on the floor at the coffee table and gave you a smile made of sunshine.

"I’m Felix."

"Right, yes, I’m (Y/N)." You introduced and Chenle burst out laughing.

"You’re going on a double date with Jaemin?" The second youngest looked at you and you groaned, slumping further into the couch.

"I’m not going with him. I set him up with Yuna and she set me up with her friend." You corrected.

"Yuna? Song Yuna?" Felix asked and you nodded as you straightened back up.

"Oh, I’m friends with her too. Who is she setting you up with?" He looked up from the pen that he was holding, probably a little weary it might leak as well.

"Changbin?" When you spoke the name, his face shifted from slight worry of the writing device to an amused look. He sputtered a laugh, and you weren’t sure how to take that.

"You dated Wooyoung right?"

"Yes?"

"He’s going to have a field day…"

"Why?" Was that a good or bad thing?

"Changbin’s liked you since before you broke up with Woo." The blonde huffed another laugh as he started to jot down notes from his textbook.

"Seriously? I’ve never even seen him… How did he know about me?"

"You were Woo’s background. You might still be, actually…" He mentioned it so casually, but you were once again shocked. You had broken up like four months prior.

"She’s Jaemin’s background too." Chenle had begun to chew aggressively on some licorice. Your licorice.

"Hey, give that back!" You stood so you could confiscate the candy and he whined pitifully and loudly. Then what he said hit you as you sat back down.

"I’m Jaemin’s background?!"

"It’s that picture of when you and Renjun fell in the mud at the park." Jisung finished and you sighed, rolling your eyes. He always had the embarrassing pictures.

"She’s still Wooyoung’s background?" The youngest turned to Felix.

"I think so…" The three boys fell back into the lull of whatever they were doing, and you sat and pondered.

"When are you going on the double date?" Jisung’s soft voice pulled you from your thoughts.

"Day after tomorrow, why?" You looked up from your phone and he looked deep in thought before he looked at his own phone.

"Just curious. I’m going to Chenle’s for a movie marathon."

"Avengers!" the other boy cheered.

"Where are you going?" Felix piped up and you were once again floored by his deep voice, especially with that pretty face.

"Kwangya. Our friend Taeyong just got the position of head chef." you replied.

"He’s such a good cook." Jisung added and you nodded.

"That place is expensive…" the eldest boy was scrolling through his phone, presumably looking at the menu, then he giggled.

"Order the most expensive thing possible if hyung is paying." His mischievous smile was freaking adorable. You snapped, and pointed at him, "sure thing."

"Oh my god, I am so freaking excited." Yuna bounced as she leaned over your vanity, putting her lipstick on. Since Jaemin had told you to wear pink, you had your friend do so instead. Her dress was light pink with plum blossoms printed over the fabric, the tight dress ended about midthigh and had an asymmetric over-the-shoulder top. You were a bit worried about her walking in the tallest heels she owned, but she liked being near the same height as her date. She had her hair up in a curled ponytail and long pink crystal earrings. You had already gotten ready and had a natural makeup look on with pretty much just mascara, eyeliner, and lipgloss. Your dress was a deep purple with a high keyhole style top. There was a belt around the upper part of your waist and as the dress flowed down the purple faded into black at the end of a circle skirt. Your tallest heels were barely even heels, but they were black, and you had dark sheer tights on as well. Your black metallic hoops matched the bangle you had on your left wrist and the rings on your index and ring fingers of your right hand. Your hair was tied back and flowed down your back in loose curls. Not normally one for manicures, Yuna had gotten you both press on nails instead and yours were almond shaped, simply black with silver accents. Hers were the same pink as her dress with cherry blossoms. She couldn’t find plum blossoms, but most people didn’t know the difference anyway.

"I hope he meets your expectations." You huffed and she rolled her eyes.

"Girl, I know what he looks like, I couldn’t care less about his personality. I even broke out my fancy panties." She smiled and for some reason this really bothered you. You honestly didn’t know if Jaemin was the type to sleep with a girl on the first date, he didn’t talk much about his love life around you. You shifted on your feet, reaching behind you to adjust the band of your bra through the fabric of your dress. Your bra and panties were somewhat plain, just black with a little bit of lace. It didn’t matter anyway. Even if you really liked Changbin you weren’t going to bed him on that first date. Unless he was like…really freaking hot, which was a possibility. For some reason though, even thinking about it made you feel guilty. The thought of Yuna sleeping with Jaemin made you feel even worse, and you tried to ignore it.

"Is my makeup okay?" She shoved her lipstick back in her little bag, white with a gold chain.

"Yes. Mine?" She looked over your face quickly and clicked her tongue.

"Of course. Why’d you even ask?" She grumbled and you giggled as she fixed a few stray hairs, then you went out to your living room to wait. Jisung had left only about fifteen minutes prior, peeking his head into your room to say buy. He got a faint dusting on his cheeks seeing you all pretty and dressed up and he mumbled something as he left. Not even two seconds after you sat in your armchair, your phone went off.

🐰: Here ☀️: The restaurant? You're like twenty minutes early. 🐰: your building ☀️: Oh, I thought we were meeting there? 🐰: coming up

You shook your head; he had been acting weird the last few days and you wondered why he even agreed to this whole double date. He didn’t seem particularly into it… When your door buzzed, you didn’t even get up as you heard him keying in your door code.

"He knows your code?"

"They all do. They tend to come here when they are drunk." You shrugged, still looking at your phone. You had been scrolling through your pictures and deleting everything of you and Wooyoung. It still irked you a bit that you might still his phone background, but you weren’t going to tell him to take it off, what if it wasn’t? You weren’t sure if he knew about your date with Changbin either, and you hoped your past relationship didn’t come up. When Jaemin finally entered, you heard him coming down the hall, evidently still in his shoes. You were going to scold him when he finally came into view, but your words fizzled out. Fuck. He was wearing a white blazer over a black dress shirt. Said shirt was unbuttoned at the top, not starting till a little above the end of his sternum. A tie was tied around his neck loosely, the two ends tucked into his shirt, highlighting the exposed skin. His slacks were black as well as his shoes, and his silver-colored hair was styled up just enough to stay out of his eyes. When your eyes met his after you had scanned his outfit, the look was so intense it made you flinch.

"Fuck." Yuna whispered and you cleared your throat, standing and grabbing your bag.

"Ready?" he asked, forcing his gaze away from you. His face softened into a cocky smirk as Yuna came to stand with you.

"Yuna, right?" He scratched his neck casually and she nodded, giving her best smirk.

"Yes. Everyone knows who you are Na Jaemin." She finally stepped up to him and linked her arm around his.

"Let’s go." You forced a smile onto your face and led them out of the apartment so you could head to the restaurant. As they flirted in the elevator, it was like you could only kind of hear them, your ears ringing like you had gotten hit in the head.

"Is Changbin meeting us there still?" you asked Yuna, and she nodded.

"He should get there around the time we do." Leading them to the small parking garage next to your building, you get in the car and wait for the other two. Jaemin held the door open for your friend and she got into the back where he joined her. You felt more like a chauffeur like that, but you just swallowed down the bitter thoughts and left the garage to head the right way. When you arrived, the valet took your vehicle and there was a guy waiting outside near the door. He was short for a man but still a bit taller than you, and holy fuck was he built. He had a white button down on, the buttons struggling to contain him. A black vest struggled over the shirt as well, and his black tie rested perfectly on his chest. The sleeves were half rolled up near his elbows, his forearms on display. A thick black watch drew your gaze to his hands, a simple silver band on his index finger. His slacks, also black, hugged his thick thighs wonderfully and you wondered if they would split from the strain if he moved the wrong way.

"Woah." He whispered, recognizing your presence when Yuna shouted his name. He came to stand in front of you, his gaze was scanning but polite. You watched carefully as his eyes trailed over your face and neckline, before quickly jumping to your waist and legs.

"You’re even more beautiful in person." He smiled and your face warmed. He took your smaller hand in his where it was rested on your bag, bringing it to his face and placing a light kiss on your knuckles. You heard Jaemin scoff lightly, and you chose to ignore it, focusing on the man before you.

"Let’s go in, I’m starved." your friend groaned dramatically and Jaemin held the door open for her, very pointedly letting it go when Changbin followed. That gave him the opportunity to hold it open for you though, and you nodded in thanks with a smile as you entered the restaurant.

"We have a reservation for seven." Yuna leaned against the podium where the host was as she typed into the tablet.

"Name?"

"Song."

"For four?"

"Yep."

"Please follow me." She grabbed four menus and led you into the establishment to a table in the back corner. The place was busy, but thanks to the ritzy environment, it wasn’t overly loud. The black and white décor and furniture were accented with different kinds of plants and other green things. Jaemin moved to sit down, pulling the chair next to him out. You waited for Yuna to sit but Jaemin was staring at you. Changbin shot Jaemin a look you didn’t notice, but your friend did. Changbin did much the same, sitting across from you and casually pulling the chair back with one hand for his friend. Your guy friend rested back in the chair nonchalantly, holding the menu in his hand on his lap, slinging his arm around the back of your chair. You didn’t even react, too busy looking over the menu, but the other two sure did.

"Order whatever you want, pretty girl." Changbin smirked when you glanced over your own menu at him, his resting on the table. You couldn’t help but marvel at his arms where they rested over the menu. His black hair was parted asymmetrically, his bangs brushing over his eyebrows. He was very handsome, in a more masculine way than Jaemin, who was more pretty.

"Are you sure?" you asked, Felix’s words flashing in your mind; you wanted to make sure.

"Of course." He smiled, looking back and you nodded, ignoring the numbers listed by each meal.

"Hello, I’ll be taking your order today." The waitress had come over and bowed slightly, ready to get your drinks. You simply ordered a water, not feeling like alcohol. Yuna did order a glass of wine, one that Jaemin picked out. He knew jack about wine, but he acted like he knew his stuff, he didn’t even drink. His order was simply for a Coke and Changbin ordered some kind of soda-liquor mix.

"Is this on two tickets or…" The waitress started.

"Two, me and her." Changbin nodded at you and before the waitress could start writing, Jaemin piped up.

"One, actually." You turned your head to look at him in shock and Yuna smiled coyly, resting his chin on her interlinked fingers. She hummed and Jaemin hadn’t even looked up from his menu but to meet your glance.

"I suggested the place, might as well. Tell Chef Moon Jaemin is ordering, so he better cook it really~ good." He smiled at the waitress, and she flushed a bit at the smolder, but nodded and headed off. His arm was still on the back of your chair, and you glanced at Yuna who bit her lip as she looked over the man next to you.

"What are you thinking of getting?" you asked your date and he hummed, flipping to the other side of the menu.

"The cream pasta looks good, but I don’t know if I would want chicken or shrimp." Changbin hummed, then looked up at you with a smile, "what about you, (Y/N)?" The way he said your name made your heart thump, was he normally so sweet or was he playing it up?

"She wants the lobster." Jaemin didn’t even look up from his menu and you glared at him. He wasn’t wrong…you loved it even if you didn’t get to eat it very often.

"It’s not even on the menu today." You tried not to snap at him.

"I think I’ll get the cream pasta with shrimp." You decided.

"Perfect." Changbin smiled and when the waitress came back with your drinks, your date ordered for both of you.

"Give me the steak." After Jaemin ordered, he took his menu and yours to hand them to the waitress. Yuna hummed, giving you a look, and ended up getting some kind of fish. When your guy friend ordered you grimaced. He knew you didn’t like beef, even just the smell bothered you. Though, if he was paying, especially with the prices being so high, you wouldn’t say anything.

"I know we don’t know each other super well yet, but you’re too good for Wooyoung." Changbin started and you gave him a shocked look. Yuna looked surprised at the comment as well and Jaemin huffed in what seemed like agreement.

"W-what do you mean?" you asked.

"This is the kind of place to go to. A beautiful restaurant for a beautiful girl. Let me guess, your first date was at an amusement park?"

"W-well…yes. We were first years in college though…"

"Still, you’re a lady not a middle schooler." He shook his head and you flushed some at the comments. You didn’t see yourself as a lady, but it made you feel special.

"Lady, huh?" The guy next to you kind of scoffed and you rolled your eyes. What was his deal?

"She’s more of a lady than this one that’s for sure." Changbin jutted his thumb at Yuna who sent him a scalding look.

"Fuck you, Bin."

"I would rather you didn’t." He smirked, turning the look to you. Letting out a small chuckle, your cheeks felt even warmer, the ice water a nice contrast as you took a sip. Focusing on the older man, you two passed likes and dislikes back and forth, just getting to know each other. You weren’t sure what the other two were discussing, but you could feel the tension leave Jaemin slowly. Yuna was batting her eyelashes every once in a while, and you had a feeling her heeled foot was brushing over his shin, if not higher. You tried not to think about it, going back to your date. When the food finally came, you smiled at how good the food looked and smelled. Luckily, your food more or less blocked the scent of Jaemin’s steak. As you twisted the pasta around on your fork against your spoon, as you went to bring it to your mouth, you noticed Changbin hold his own up.

"Cheers?" He smiled and you giggled, bumping your pasta swirl against his, then eating it. It really was so good, and you could tell it was definitely Taeyong’s.

"I was surprised I couldn’t hear you from the kitchen." A familiar voice chuckled, coming up to the table."

"Hi, Taeyong-oppa." You smiled at his comment to Jaemin.

"Hyung~" He cooed and you both huffed.

"I didn’t know you were going to be here too, (Y/N)." He glanced at the other two, "You’re Yuna, right?"

"Sure am." She seemed to be in a flirty mood, her tone was still lilted.

"You are…" He pointed to the other guy.

"Seo Changbin." He nodded respectfully.

"Double date?" Taeyong’s gaze moved to you, and you nodded. He simply hummed before his gaze met Jaemin’s.

"Enjoy the food, I’ll make sure you get a discount." He bowed and then left and Yuna watched him leave.

"Oof."

"Really?" You deadpanned; she was literally on a date with Jaemin.

"I need to go to the bathroom, come on (Y/N)." She got up, grabbing her bag and you did the same to follow her. You really didn’t understand why girls always went to the bathroom together, but you would literally just follow along. When you got in there, another woman was just leaving, but otherwise it was empty. Yuna went to look in the mirror, pulling her make up bag out to touch up her eye makeup. You rested your back against the counter, it seemed neither of you actually had to go.

"Sorry that Jaemin is being weird." You grimaced a bit, your mouth going straight.

"Well, it’s obvious he is here for you so…" She didn’t seem bothered at all.

"W-what?"

"Oh, please, girl. It’s obvious he’s jealous and just came so you he could keep an eye on Changbin. I’m more here to help you not be too uncomfortable, it’s just a bonus I get to flirt with Na Jaemin." She started to put on more lipstick, but realized she still had to finish eating, so that wouldn’t make sense.

"Y-you think?" You turned to look at her and she scoffed playfully.

"Here, I’ll play it up and see what he does." She got everything back into her bag and you both went back to the table. You had no idea what those two had been doing or talking about, but the tension was thick. After you sat down, the mood lightened, and a smile came back to Changbin’s face.

"Here, have more of the shrimps." He picked a few off of his plate to give to you before you could protest. Shooting Yuna a look, she winked, and stabbed a piece of fish with her fork, holding it up to Jaemin. She hummed and you made sure not to watch, so you missed his side look at you. The small talk continued with your date, and it seemed as Yuna notched up her flirting, so did Jaemin. You two weren’t so forward, keeping it more innocent.

"Oh, here." You noticed he had some sauce on his cheek, too far away for his tongue to reach. You grabbed your napkin and dipped it in your water so you could get it off. He smiled and the warm look made your face heat, and you sat back all the way down. You yelped when Jaemin curled his ankle around the leg of your chair and hauled you closer to him so he could whisper in your ear.

"The hell are you doing?" His tone was sharper than you had ever heard from him.

"What do you mean?" Your tone hardened as well. He simple glared down at you and you scoffed, aggressively yanking your chair back to where it was, resting your chin on your palm, closing yourself off from him.

"Sorry, he’s being a dick." you whispered to Changbin, but he didn’t laugh, just sent a look at the other man.

"What’s your deal?" He shot at Jaemin whose face immediately lost its flirty grin. He could be really freaking scary when he wanted….same thing with Chenle.

"I just have a problem with people who don’t know their place." He rose an eyebrow and you swallowed hard. You really wanted the chocolate lava cake on the dessert menu, but you were getting fed up. He offered to pay for everyone, so you stood and aggressively slung your bag on your shoulder.

"Let’s go Yuna. He can get home on his own." She immediately followed you and you stopped, looking at Changbin.

"I had fun with you, I’m sorry he’s being such a douche. I’ll get your number from Yuna." You smiled, giving him a slight bow and he nodded, watching in shock as you both left.

"(Y/N)!" Jaemin shouted after you and you just picked up the pace. Yuna’s heels clicked on the tile of the restaurant floor and then on the concrete as you left. Tears were pricking at your eyes, the warm drops cold in the blowing wind.

"Hey, you okay?" She stopped you, noticing your face starting to get blotchy.

"He’s a fucking jerk." You sniffed and she sighed.

"Hey, I’m not mad, I wasn’t expecting the world from the date-"

"Not that, how he was with Changbin. If what you said it true…" You licked your lips, and she wrapped her arm around your shoulder.

"The reason it hurts so much is because you like him. It’s hard to see someone act like a dick when you think highly of them." She informed wisely as you both waited for the valet to get your car. You wished you parked down the road so at least you could get away faster. Waiting outside meant there was the possibility of Jaemin getting to you before you could leave. Speak…well, think of the devil, and he shall come.

"(Y/N)!" He had pushed the door open so hard; the thick plexiglass wobbled a bit in the metal frame. You groaned and told Yuna to take your car back and began to storm down the sidewalk toward your building.

"Fucking- (Y/N), wait!" He dashed past your friend, and she knew your shorter legs wouldn’t get you far if he was going that speed. As he caught up to you, you almost took off your shoes so you could start running. You tried to not wipe at your eyes, your mascara was waterproof, but your eyeliner would probably smudge.

"(Y/N)!" Jaemin finally reached you, his hand wrapping around your wrist, and he halted you in your tracks. Why was he so freaking strong? When you tried to get away, he pulled you even closer, holding both hands to his chest.

"Let go!" You were full on crying, and he was a bit shocked at this. He did as you asked and you were going to turn around and keep going, but a car, your car, pulled up next to you. Yuna got out, handed you your keys and you went to get in. Before either of you could say anything, Jaemin grabbed the keys himself and went to the driver’s side. You scoffed as he shut the door but got in the other side.

"Can you get home?" you asked her, and she nodded, waving you off.

"Changbin will get me home." You nodded and got into your car; it was a bit weird riding in the passenger seat. The ride back was silent, tension rising in the car fast, and you tried rolling the window down. Didn’t help, just made more noise. You rolled it back up, the seal making a ‘shunk’ as it closed. You licked your lips, just watching out the window. No words were said as he parked in your spot in the garage. You wanted to fester a bit in the car, but he pulled your door open and stared you down, prompting you to get out. You slammed the door shut and stomped forward past him to get into your building. You keyed in your code to the side door and didn’t even hold the door open for him. You could hear him following you though and he did all the way up to your apartment. Your door slammed shut and you both stood in the entryway, panting. Sighing, you toed the straps of your shoe and kicked them off, storming further into your place. It seemed he had done the same and was hot on your heels. As you left the entry hall and started to head into the living room, Jaemin grabbed your wrist, and you yelped as he yanked you. You found your back to the wall, halted just right so your head didn’t bang into it. His hand slammed against the wall, pinning you in, the other one still holding your wrist. You gaped at him with wide eyes, your hand held up and against the wall as well. He was PISSED. He didn’t get mad like that too often.

"What the hell is your problem?" You tried to psych yourself up, feeling incredibly small. Not only did his harsh gaze make you shrink in on yourself, but he was also bigger than you really realized. Taller and broader, he fully surrounded you. He scoffed, looking away and you sneered. He finally turned back to look at you.

"Are you really that dumb?" His tone pierced you and tears came back, frustrated and hurt.

"What?" Your voice was quiet, you face had fallen flat. Jaemin licked his lips again, biting his bottom lip before pressing both together hard. His eyes met yours and your breath hitched.

"You seriously, of all people, asked me to go on a double date with you, but you were there for someone else?" His face was close to yours; he was so close in general that you had to tilt your head to meet his eyes.

"Then, you showed up looking like that, but it wasn’t for me." He motioned with his head down, and you shuffled. Jaemin’s leg had shifted closer, his knee touching the wall.

"You even went so far as to flirt with another man in front of me." His words made you look back up to him from where you had been looking at his leg between yours.

"What’s it to you!?" You countered, trying not to move too much, he was so close, "why do you care?"

"I care because I love you, and you’re supposed to be mine!" He finally got it out. All of the fight left you and you simply gaped at him like a fish. Jaemin swallowed, not sure how to take your reaction.

"You love me?"

"Yes!" The hand pinning yours up pulled away, so your arm came down to rest limply at your side. Jaemin then rested it on your elbow, the hand on the wall shifting so his forearm was pressed against the surface. His forehead met his arm, the side of his jaw pressing against the top of your head. Your eyes couldn’t help but fall to the swath of skin revealed by his open shirt, it was right in front of you after all.

"I really wish I could have done this differently." His voice was quiet, the sharpness gone, and he spoke right into your ear. The sound seemed to rumble through you, and you didn’t know his voice could get that deep.

"Love?" You finally managed to get out and he huffed, pulling back enough that you could see each other’s faces. Jaemin brought his hand to his tie, and despite it being loose already, he loosened it further and just took it off. The fabric floated to the floor, and he took another step back so he could take off the blazer without hitting you. As he shed the garment, he continued to move away, throwing the jacket down. He turned away from you and you slumped further against the wall, watching as he rolled his sleeves up, so they bunched above his elbow. You couldn’t help but stare at his revealed forearms, a watch gracing his left wrist. On his right hand sat the ring he and all your friends shared. You had one even, but you kept in your jewelry box and only wore it when you were all together. The more you looked at Jaemin, like really looked, he had gotten way more muscular than you even realized. He caught you staring and in any other circumstance he would have smirked, but he just huffed, nearly scoffed.

"My eyes are up here, (Y/N)." He clicked his tongue and he started to walk back toward you. He had put his left hand in his pocket, the right held up with one finger out, and he poked you hard on the forehead. You flinched and yelped when your head hit the wall. Jaemin sighed, letting his arm fall and putting his other hand in his pocket as well.

"You really had no idea?" The question was unexpected, and you honestly had trouble thinking about what he meant, still out of it.

"No idea about what?" You shook your head, trying to get your bearings and he sighed dramatically, a slight whine in the sound.

"Me loving you, dummy." You blinked in response.

"N-no?"

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

"What about you?"

"About me, what?" He groaned in frustration and sighed really hard again.

"Do you like me back at least?" He finally decided to be direct. You simply blinked and he shook his head a bit.

"I’m going home-" He backed up and moved to leave, but you stopped him, gently wrapping your hands around his elbow.

"Wait." Your voice was so quiet he almost didn’t hear, but he halted immediately. His back was to you, so you stepped closer and wrapped your arms around his middle, laying your cheek on his back.

"I…I think I love you too." You truly didn’t know for sure, never really feeling that way. You were still in denial about having feelings for him at all only an hour ago.

"You think?"

"I really don’t know…I’ve never felt this way before-" Jaemin pulled away from you roughly, but then turned to you, his hands on your jaw. When you opened your mouth to continue, his lips met yours instead, swallowing the start of your next words. Honestly? Best kiss you ever had. You didn’t know if it was because Jaemin and you liked him so much, or if he was just good at it. With a whine, you brought your own hands to his, lightly gripping his wrists. Jaemin pulled back, his expression still intense but in a much different way.

"Tell me now if you don’t want to go beyond kissing, because I need to know before…" He drifted off, his eyes still pinned to your lips.

"Y-you can do what you want." Your words were shaky, along with your body, but it was more nervous excitement than anything.

"Yeah?" You hummed in response and that same cocky grin you were so used to spread over his stupidly attractive face.

"Don’t tell me that, love, I’ll hold you to it." He had leaned in as he spoke, his lips softly brushing over yours.

"Please." You nearly keened and he kissed you again. It was rougher than the last one, deeper, his hand wrapping around your ponytail and digging into your hair. He tilted your head to get a better angle. His other hand started at your waist before sliding down the sleek material of your dress till it landed on your butt. He squeezed and you gasped, allowing his tongue to slide into your mouth. Your head was swimming, and you weren’t sure if it was from lack of air or just how good it felt to have his tongue tasting yours. When Jaemin finally pulled back, you whined at the loss which made him chuckle.

"Come here, love." His arm wrapped around your waist, the other going to the back of your thigh, picking you up with ease. You whimpered, wrapping your legs around his waist and you kissed over his neck and collarbone as he headed down the hall to your room. Luckily Jisung was at Chenle’s, and little did you know, it was because Jaemin had told him, "if this night goes according to plan, you will not want to be at home." And while the plan hadn’t gone exactly as Jaemin planned, the end result was the same. Your door was closed but not set in the frame, so he was able to kick it to get it open. It swung hard and slammed into the wall, luckily there was door stop, and he kicked it closed as well. When he got close enough, he literally dropped you on the bed. You bounced with a yelp, and you stopped as you tried to steady yourself, your eyes drawn to him. With rapt attention, you watched as he deftly unbuttoned the rest of his shirt and untucked it, throwing it harshly to the floor. As he continued, the smirk on his face grew more and more devious, his confidence growing a little too much from your stare.

"Wanna touch?" He teased as your eyes traced every line and ridge of his torso. Without thinking, you nodded, and he laughed. The noise snapped you out of the trance, and you frowned.

"Jerk…" You mumbled and he chuckled, stepping forward slowly, prowling. His right hand gripped his belt and the waist of his pants, and when he was close enough, his hand went to your chin to tip your head. Jaemin crooked his eyebrow, and you wilted a bit under the look, more nervous excitement buzzing through you. When he stepped back, your eyes went to the hand on his belt and watched as he undid his belt, pulling it out of the loops with a snap and it clattered to the floor. Your mouth watered, and he tried not to laugh, "Your eyes are gonna burn holes through me." You flinched back, purposefully looking back to his face.

"Look all you want, love." he said, the smirk coming back. So, you did. Your eyes zeroed in on his hands, he first removed his watch, letting it clatter onto the floor as well. Same thing with his ring, he didn’t want the others having any part of this, even if it was through the friendship ring. Next, and you weren’t sure if he actually did it slowly or it played in slow-motion through your eyes, but he undid the button on his slacks, and they fell. You gasped, he did still have his underwear on, but he was just that much closer to being bare before you.

"You have too many things on." He decided and strode forward, falling to his knees at the foot of the bed where you sat. His hands went to your hips and pulled you all the way forward so hard and fast, you fell, back hitting the bed.

"Are these those tights that don’t tear?" His question threw you off a bit.

"Uh, no they were like a few dollars-" RIP. He just tore them right at the seam of the crotch.

"Jaemin!" You scolded by he ignored you; finishing ripping them and then pulled the pieces off. He could have just pulled them off normally… When the scraps were discarded, he flipped the end of your dress up, exposing your black panties and your face flushed as he just stared.

"D-don’t stare like that!" You covered your face with your hands then practically screamed when he unexpectedly buried his face between your legs.

"J-Jaemin!" You yelped, his tongue brushing harshly over the fabric, tasting your wetness though the material.

"Fuck~" He cooed at your taste, and you were extremely grateful he didn’t tear your panties off as well. What you didn’t notice though was that he pocketed them as his mouth met your bare cunt. Your back arched, breath leaving you, his tongue delving into your core. Jaemin let out an obscene groan as your walls clenched around his tongue and you whimpered. Why was he being so freaking noisy? Again, a startled yelp escaped you when his hands grabbed your thighs, roughly holding your legs open, preventing your hips from moving. It seemed he planned ahead because when he sealed his lips around your clit and sucked, your entire body jerked, the air leaving you.

"Jaemin! Wait, fuck-" You sucked air in harshly, the rising pleasure so intense and before you knew it, with one last flick of his tongue, you fell of the edge. He moaned as you whined, his voice fading into a low chuckle as your orgasm ebbed. Falling boneless onto the bedding, he got up from the floor and cooed at you.

"Oh, sweet love~" His normal playful tone was weaved with heat, his words seemed to rumble through the room. Gently, he helped you sit up, kissing softly at your neck and jaw as he pulled the zipper of your dress down. You let him pull the garment up and off your head, your glazed over expression going straight to his hardening cock.

"So pretty~" Jaemin huffed in delight, leaning over to kiss you again as he unhooked your bra and slung it somewhere to the side. With a mewl, you let him pick you up again to move your further up the bed, laying you down softly and making sure your head was settled on the pillow. His next kisses were incredibly soft, going from your mouth to the crest of your cheek, your jaw, neck, collar, sternum, the swell of your breast, then his mouth sealed over your nipple. It made you shiver, but he quickly moved on, kissing to the other side, and licked over your other nipple.

"Jaemin~" You whined, needing more. He smiled, not a smirk, going back up and kissing your forehead. The man laughed when your arms lazily wrapped around his neck, trying to get him closer to kiss him again. Instead, he let you kiss over his face, his hands going to your hips and adjusting you so your legs wrapped around his waist. When he grinded his still covered hard-on into your bare core you let out a low whine.

"I need you to let me go so I can get a condom…" He laughed when you shook your head no, holding on tighter.

"Okay." He relented, wrapping his arms around you again and you yiped when he easily hauled you up and got of the bed. Holding onto him like a child, he laughed at your antics as he stooped to get his pants and get his wallet.

"You always keep one there?" You grumbled and Jaemin continued to laugh, going back to the bed.

"No, love. I planned ahead~" He let out his characteristic little-shit giggle as he laid you down again, just as softly.

"Hurry!" You wiggled, letting your legs fall so he could maneuver and get his tight black briefs off. Your jaw went slack and the smuggest simper you had ever seen on his face. No wonder he was so freaking confident all the time.

"I’ll fit." He teased and you wanted to get annoyed but was too distracted as he rolled the condom over his cock. You swallowed.

"You’re sure you’re okay with this?" His hand gently went to your cheek, rubbing his thumb over the soft skin. You turned your head, kissing his palm, and the soft gesture made his smile soften as well.

"Okay, love." Jaemin shifted, lightly gripping your hips and you buried your fingers in his soft silver hair as he brought his cock to your core, stroking it through your folds before starting to ease in. You gasped, trying not to clench too hard. It had not only been a while for you, but he was bigger than you were used to. Your whole body shivered, and you tried to relax and not clench him too much. You watched his brow furrow; you were tight around him and he couldn’t believe he finally got to be inside of you.

"Breathe, love." He smirked, helping you relax as he bottomed out. The walls of your cunt fluttered around his cock, trying to get used to the stretch and you tried to not dig your press-on nails into the skin of his back. He would change that though, planning on having red welts decorating his back when he got done. When he felt you relax more around him, and your body wasn’t as tense, he brought your legs up higher around your waist and gave a very shallow thrust.

"Fuck!" You moaned and Jaemin groaned, starting a slow pace, not wanting to overwhelm you yet.

"J-Jaemin!" You threw your head back after he gave his first hard thrust, nearly pulling all the way out before his hips snapped, carving his shape into your core.

"Oh, love, you feel so fucking good~" He let out a breathy chuckle, sitting back on his heels more, the angle change let the head of his cock hit your sweet spot. With each thrust, he fucked a little noise out of you, every once in a while, it would be his name or nonsense babbling.

"Hold on, love." He grunted, getting up on his knees more, his strong hands gripping your thighs so hard he would leave bruises, and threw your legs over his elbows. Jaemin smirked, rolling his hips and as the head of his cock hit the deepest part of your pussy, you came. It was sudden and your breath halted, and he froze, eyes clenching shut. He wanted this to last longer, and while he knew he could go more than one round, he really wanted to prolong it. You shivered slightly when it was over trying to catch your breath and he groaned, shifting on his knees, and grabbing another pillow to shove under your hips.

"Okay, get ready~" He practically giggled, and he began to fuck you in earnest. Your cunt was sensitive from cumming twice, but it still felt too good, and your mind was starting to fog. Your hands that were digging into the bedding scrabbled, gripping his back, not wanting to tear your sheets. He groaned as the rounded ends of your press-on nail dug into his skin, scratching down and leaving stinging lines all over his back. Jaemin chuckled deeply as you whimpered and moaned.

"You’re so good for me, huh?" You whined in response.

"Like my cock?" Whine.

"Fuck, I love you so much." He slumped forward, burying his face in the crook of your neck, sucking, and licking at the skin. His thrusts stayed hard, but they lost their rhythm as he got closer to his own release. Your hands moved to around his shoulders, one still scratching up his back, the other in his hair.

"Love~" You mewled, and he huffed, burying his cock as deep as he could and came. Someday, he vowed to feel the raw heat of your pussy around him. Slowly he pulled out and you whimpered, feeling incredibly empty. He realized then that he had only brought one condom…

"Great." He grumbled, but when he saw you laying there, eyes unfocused and body limp, he realized that might be for the best. Smiling softly, he leaned down, brushing the sweat-soaked hairs from your forehead and laying a kiss there.

"Be right back, love." Jaemin pecked your lips and got off the bed. You were only semi-conscious as he went and cleaned up. He came back quick, helping you get under the covers, and he turned the ceiling fan on, so you didn’t get too hot. Somehow, you managed to stay awake as he took a cold shower and you mewled for him when he came back.

"(Y/N)~" He cooed dramatically, back to his goofy self. He had put pants back on but left his shirt off, knowing you would ogle him. Giddily, while giggling, he wiggled under the covers with you.

"You’re cold…" You mumbled and he nodded with a hum.

"Warm me~!" He opened his arms to you, and you tiredly shuffled closer and slumped into his hold. You were too tied to really appreciate laying on his half-naked body, and he soothingly pet your hair, nuzzling the top of your head.

"I love you." Jaemin whispered and you mumbled something, and he huffed, "what?"

"Love you too~" Your voice was slurred with sleepiness, and you nearly instantly fell asleep. He soon drifted off as well, but about an hour later, he was awoken by a commotion.

"Noona~!"

"Chenle, wait!" Jisung shouted after him but couldn’t get to him in time as he dashed down the hall and threw your bedroom door open. When all he saw was Jaemin propped up, glaring at him with a lump next to him, the younger stopped dead.

"Get out of there!" The youngest scolded, purposefully NOT looking as he grabbed the other one and hauled him out.

"THEY FUCKED!" Chenle nearly screamed and Jaemin collapsed to the bed with a groan and Jisung dragged him down the hall, trying to get him to shut up. You grunted a bit and Jaemin smiled, you were so cute. Your eyes fluttered open and he smiled warmly.

"He’s so freaking loud." You pouted and he dramatically acted like he had been shot in the heart.

"Oh~ So cute~" He enveloped you into his arms, holding you close and rocking back and forth. It forced a tired giggle from you, and you went limp again when he finally laid still.

"You’ll be my girlfriend." It was more like a statement than a question. You hummed.

"Of course." You ran your fingers over his collarbone, finally getting to feel and see him. Another cocky grin spread over his face as you didn’t hold back, your hands stopping on the waist band of his pants. He smirked, rolling on top of you, making sure you didn’t hold his full weight.

"For now~" You furrowed your brow, wondering what he meant. One day, my wife.

Master-Master List

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lexsssu · 9 months

Text

Treasure (Akira Kurusu | Ren Amamiya)

TAGS: Akira/F!reader, yandere, obsession, praise, breeding, smut, oneshot Ao3 ver. | Ko-fi | Commissions (OPEN)

“Thank you for the curry, Akira-kun. It’s delicious as always and the coffee is perfect…!”

“Nothing less for my favorite patron of course~”

“Oh stop it, you! Using your charms won’t make me order another serving of curry”

“Darn. Guess I’ll just have to try harder next time then~”

“Of course you will. But I hope you know that the reason I keep coming back here is because of the food and not because of some pretty-boy cafe owner…!”

“Mhmm, I know very well that it’s only the food and drinks that keep you coming back. So that means all I have to do is make everything on the menu irresistible so you’d have no choice~”

“....Smart-ass”

Akira chuckled at the adorable pout you sent him, feeling his heartbeat seemingly getting faster as you played along with him. How your innocent little smiles and colorful blushes sent his heart into overdrive, reminding him constantly that the thief had been the one stolen from instead.

You stole his heart and you didn’t even realize it.

So it was only natural that he would steal yours in return, right?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Isn't she an adorable little thing?

So small

So soft

So ripe for the taking

Don't you just want to sink your teeth into her pretty little neck?

Leave your mark on her

You know you want to

She's practically begging for it

All you have to do is take the first step

You know full well that she wants to be moaning beneath you

She wants to choke on your cock

She wants you to stuff it inside her tight pussy

Give her all your cum, make sure you fuck it all straight into her womb

Do it. You want it. She wants it. Stop pretending like you're a good man when we both know you're the farthest thing from one.

And none of that matters, because you'll have her anyway.

WE'LL have her.

Whether she wants to be ours or not.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“It's too dangerous for you to go home in this weather. Why don’t you stay the night here instead? I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if anything were to happen to you…”

Those were Akira’s words when he dissuaded you from traveling back to your own apartment as the thunderstorm raged outside of Leblanc.

Yet...how did it turn out like this?

“Aren’t you my precious little treasure? Do you feel how tightly your pretty cunt is gripping my cock? It’s your first time and yet it’s swallowing up everything so happily...I just knew you were made for me~”

Arms wrapped around his strong neck, you hang onto Akira for dear life as he spears his girthy length into your sopping wet core, spreading your lower lips while the veins that pulsed along its length scraping against your previously untouched walls. He had your sinfully thick thighs wrapped around his narrow waist as he bucked up into you, basically carrying the entirety of your weight with his surprisingly strong arms.

For a man who supposedly worked full-time as the proprietor of a little cafe in Tokyo, Akira had both strength and a build beneath his unassuming clothes that clearly stated his physical prowess.

Not that you had any capacity to think about that when the man was flooding your insides with his thick, gooey cum. Your eyes are glazed as you panted, inhaling lungfuls of air as a heady mix of your clear love juice and his pearly essence dripped onto the wooden floors of his bedroom atop the shop.

Aside from the half-hard cock that plugged you up, you clearly felt the heat of his potent cum in your lower belly after the curly-haired male made sure to cum while he was balls-deep inside you.

“Good girl. That’s my good girl. Taking my cum so eagerly...you’ll treasure my gift to you, won’t you? Because you’re my treasure and I want to leave my mark in you… ”

You should be scared at how things reached this point all of a sudden, but you find that you don’t care.

Not when you’d also long held a torch for the charming barista.

It was only your own insecurities that prevented you from ever saying a word. Why would you when Akira was so handsome, so charming, so smart as compared to your...mediocre self?

“Yours…♥” Smiling dazedly at him, you press a chaste kiss to his soft lips before nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck as a wave of drowsiness overtakes you.

There’s no need to ask questions. What matters is that he loves you as much as you loved him. So you don’t think about it anymore, simply relishing in the fact that the object of your affections returned your seemingly unrequited love.

“ I’ll protect you. No one will ever take you away from me. Don’t worry, my dear. You’ll be taken care of for life. Now that you’re mine...you’ll be treated like the priceless treasure you are~ ”

Eerie olden orbs glowed in the darkness, sometimes glinting with an unspeakable malice but they mostly shone with tenderness they were seemingly incapable of whenever they were trained on your sleeping figure.

#lexsssu writes #persona 5 #akira kurusu #ren amamiya #akira kurusu x reader #ren amamiya x reader #persona 5 joker x reader #p5 joker x reader #p5 x reader #persona 5 x reader #crossposted on ao3

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animeyanderelover · 9 months

Note

Characters of your choice from JJK with a darling who has a tattoo of their ex please

Holidays, everyone! I finally have my holidays! I changed it slightly so that the darling has a tattoo of the name of their ex.

Tw: Yandere themes, toxic relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional thoughts, clinginess, manipulation, controlling behavior, forceful behavior, death

S/o has a tattoo of the name of their ex

Fushiguro Megumi

💙You have never told him of your tattoo before, aware how paranoid Megumi tends to be. Perhaps that would have been the wiser choice yet instead he discovers the name engraved on your skin himself as you fail to cover the name on your shoulder in time as he accidentally walks in on you changing. Thick silence befalls the room as he just stands there, frozen as his eyes are glued to the black kanji signs on your skin. His mind repeats the name over and over again until he suddenly remembers where he has heard it before. His heart drops, a lumb of fear and insecurities forms at the back of his throat and his eyes widen frantically. You try to come up with something, anything to explain this to him yet he is faster. Suddenly he stands in front of you, arms seizing your shoulders as he asks you with a slightly raised voice why you never told him that you had a tattoo of your ex. Why?? Why would you do that?? Were...were they that important to you? What about him then?

💙He can't bear to look at you the same way as before after that for quite some while, not without imagining the name of your ex tattooed on your shoulder. It's like a marking that spells out that you once loved someone else and whenever he actually sees your tattoo, he feels something clenching deep inside his chest. His insecurities and paranoia increase as he starts wondering if you still harbor feelings for your ex. Going as far as carrying a tattoo of their name around is a pretty big sign of devotion after all. You find yourself having a harder time to calm him down, the tattoo on your shoulder triggering him whenever he catches a glimpse of it. It haunts him, torments him a bit and he has wondered a couple of times already if he has to threaten your ex as paranoia poisons his ability to think rationally and instead whispers into his mind that you might return to your ex. He knows that it isn't good for his sanity which is why at some point he begs you to remove it somehow. Please, it torments him.

Zenin Maki

💚Maki has known about your tattoo for a longer while now, it's hard to hide something written on your wrist with black and permanent ink after all. She already questioned this decision of yours back then quite a bit because it's quite risky to get a tattoo of the name of your ex without any guarantee that they'll stay. All you could do back then was to give her a pitiful laugh as you couldn't help but agree with her. Back then this was still fine though but now it is a different story as she's grown rather possessive over you. The tattoo is an eyesore for her whenever she sees it and due to the visible spot you chose, she sees it multiple times a day. She lets out a scoff whenever her eyes find the kanji signs and her mood is almost always worsening a tad bit whenever she spots the name of your former lover. At least she is reasonable enough to understand that both of you have broken it up for good so she isn't as wavering and paranoid as Megumi. She knows that you don't have any feelings for them anymore.

💚That doesn't mean that she hasn't completely forgiven you for your stupidity to get a tattoo in the first place. In fact she is scolding you more nowadays for your decision than before. Maki knows that you regret that mistake yourself but she can't help it sometimes, she is a bit mad and tends to express that with not so kind words. At the very least she notices that her words only cause you to feel worse so she tries to comfort you as good as she can everytime her tongue slips and she accidentally cuts you with her words. She makes it very clear to you though that she greatly dislikes that you have the name of someone else decorating your body whilst you're together with her and you can't even blame her for it. She would appreciate for you to somehow get rid of this tattoo and sometimes you have the feeling that her wish sounds more like a demand.

Gojo Satoru

🩵It's perhaps not the best idea to let Gojo ever find out about your tattoo but how is that even supposed to work? The man is so terribly clingy and intrusive and despite his goofy facade, you have a feeling that he might react very badly to the sight of your tattoo. You try to figure out a way how to tell him as harmlessly as possible but you can't come up with anything. Maybe it wouldn't have made a difference in the first place. That's at least what you think as you try to wiggle free from his unusually tight grip, one of his hands lifting up your shirt as dull blue eyes stare at the name written slightly above your hip. Your breath hitches in your throat when those same blue eyes finally meet your own and you feel like you could drown within the abyss of the darkness swirling behind those beautiful orbs. A forced smile stretches his face as he asks you why you have someone's name tattooed on your body. Especially that of your ex.

🩵You have a hard time convincing him not to go after your ex as your gut screams at you that something terribly will happen otherwise. You beg him to have mercy since both of you have ended the relationship years ago and you don't even have any contact with them anymore. You swallow heavily when his heavy and colder gaze rests on you yet still plead him to not do anything to them as you promise to do whatever he wants. Your wish is somewhat granted as Gojo doesn't harm them but he still wants to have seen the person whose name stains your skin at least once. Needless to say, he is disappointed when he sees your ex who is in his eyes a nobody but perhaps that reassures him a tiny bit. He can't help but torment and scare the poor soul though and they don't know even why. He organizes an appointment for you where the tattoo will be completely removed and only after that he seems to return to his usual self, happily kissing the now empty spot on your skin.

Kamo Choso

🩸Choso is absolutely attached to your hips. He's needy, soft-spoken, careful and surprisingly considerate. If he wouldn't have been your kidnapper and creepy stalker, you might have appreciated him more though. There is something about him that sometimes just unsettles you and he himself doesn't even seem to notice when he's creeping you out until he witnesses your reaction. You don't even notice him until you feel his fingertips brushing against your skin and nearly jump out of your skin, turning bewildered around to see Choso staring at the same spot where your tattoo was only a few moments ago. He doesn't move as he now stares into empty air as if trying to process something until dark eyes finally meet your own. He swallows before apologizing that he just walked in on you without telling you anything. A few seconds of silence before you hear him asking you once again, this time in a slightly shaky tone, what that was he just saw on your back.

🩸It's like Choso initially refuses to believe that a tattoo is something permanent as he rejects the thought that you will walk around with a name of your ex-lover forever engraved onto your being. You wake sometimes up in the middle of the night only to feel his hand rubbing against the tattoo as if trying to erase it himself, you notice the way his hands start trembling when he realizes that the ink doesn't fade away even a tiny bit and pray that he won't have a meltdown. Choso would never blame you for it but that means that his hostility is turned against your ex as he starts genuinely believing that they tricked you and manipulated your feelings, abused your kindness which is why you were fooled into getting such a tattoo. He never goes out to kill them though, only because you stop him though and successfully manage to coax him into not doing such a thing and instead he just clings onto you. He asks you anxiously more than once if there is a way to get rid of the tattoo and you know that it's probably the best way to preserve his sanity somehow.

Mahito

🔷Good luck in general with Mahito because that is a recipe for disaster anyways. Mahito's perception of love differs greatly and is much more twisted and warped than anything and in his eyes he wouldn't even label his feelings as love. He likes to view you more as a sweet experiment, an interesting specism he just likes to spend time with whilst poking and tormenting you to gauge all of your reactions. The best you can do is try to endure it without giving him too much of a reaction because the bastard loves seeing you respond strongly to anything he does. Unfortunately you don't react quite as level-headed as you would like to have when he notices the dark ink on your legs and suddenly yanks you towards him, his hands roughly holding your leg, unimpressed by the way you're kicking and hissing at him. Cold fingers brush over the lettering on your skin, mismatched eyes curiously go back and forth between your eyes and the dark ink on your thigh before he asks you what this is.

🔷He's genuinely interested to hear your reasons why you would decide to have the name of your ex tattooed on your skin and it is hard for you to tell if he is angry at all about it or not. He's definitely mocking and degrading you though as he labels you stupid for doing something like this despite never having known if they would actually stay with you. His fingers are still tracing over the tattoo and when he suddenly falls quiet for a while, you realize that he's thinking about something. Then he suddenly asks you if you just feel better if you have someone's name on your body which successfully makes you feel like you belong to someone. You're offended by his words but he doesn't give you time to answer as a grin suddenly flashes across his face, his grip tightening as he says with an excited tone that he wants to see his name on your skin too. You can't do anything but watch as your leg deforms in a grotesque way before returning to it's normal form. Your previous tattoo has disappeared and instead the kanji signs now read Mahito's name. Do you want more~?

#yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #yandere megumi #yandere fushiguro megumi #yandere maki #yandere zenin maki #yandere gojo #yandere gojo satoru #yandere choso #yandere kamo choso #yandere mahito #yandere x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader

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gravidwithlore · 3 months

Text

Building a Home part 1

word count: 7,500

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

“Tell me again, why do we need a guide to get through the Wandering Woods?” Jiyan drawled as he picked at his nails. Rhiannon sighed in exasperation.

“Because, the woods are scary and dangerous?” She snarked.

“Yeah, but I mean, the three of us could totally handle whatever spooky whats-its and scary whose-its the forest can throw at us! Between your super cool sword skills, my charming smile, and Melian's druid nature powers, we don't need some lame village guide to tell us to keep on the path.”

Rhi snorted. “What was that middle one?”

“Your super cool sword skills.”

“No, the other one.”

“Melian's druid nature powers.”

“Yeah,” She rolled her eyes at Jiyan’s antics. “And if Melian of all people says we need a guide, then we're getting a guide, whether your cocky ass likes it or not.”

“Fine.” He huffed and poutily crossed his arms. “But don't come crying to me when-” Jiyan trailed off as he noticed Melian approaching them with an absolute mountain of a man. “You know what Rhi? You're so right, we absolutely need a guide.”

“Oh? Really? I was actually just starting to think you might have a point Ji! I should probably go let them know their services aren't needed anymore.” Rhiannon smirked at her companion.

“No, no! Rhiannon, you were absolutely so correct, we're in desperate need of this man’s services, we can't make it in the woods alone!” Jiyan hastily objected.

Before Rhiannon could tease him some more, Melian approached them and introduced them to Brone, a giant of a man. His face held the gaunt scarred look of someone who's seen (and caused) their fair share of trouble, with a perpetual looking 5 o'clock shadow to match, but the faint wrinkles and streaks of gray in his long greasy hair told a story of survival throughout all the struggle. Brone towered above them, as he grunted in begrudging acknowledgement to Rhi and Jiyan’s greetings, hand remaining tightly clutched tight on the hilt of his sword instead of meeting Jiyans handshake.

Immediately bored of the talk of the logistics of their temporary partnership and preparations for their journey, Jiyan tried to give Brone a very unsubtle once over. He was a bit dismayed by just how much his cloak managed to cover him, leaving no clues as to exactly what he was, ahem, packing. But from the size of the man's hands, Jiyan had a feeling he would not be disappointed. And oh, how Jiyan loved a challenge.

Rhiannon and Brone took off to inspect their wagon to ensure it was safe for their passage, despite her assurance it was perfectly fine. As Brone had said, in that deep gravelly voice of his, “I've heard that before.” Once they were alone, Jiyan playfully nudged Melian with his elbow.

“So, where did you find this absolute dilf Mel?” He winked.

“The tavern, where the shopkeep said he'd be.” They responded straight-faced. “And how do you know he has any children?”

“Well I don't know!” Jiyan said, a little shocked that Melian even knew what a dilf was. “Being a dilf isn't just about having kids, it's, like, a vibe. Trust me, I know a dilf when I see one!”

“And this sellsword I have found in a dirty village tavern, to take us through the Wandering Woods, gives off the vibes that he has children?” Anyone else would think Melian naive, more accustomed to being surrounded by nature than by other people, but Ji had known them long enough to catch the slight uptick of the corners of their lips and know that in their own unknowable way, Melian was teasing the shit out of him.

“Yeah. In, like, a sad and grungy sort of way, yeah.”

“And you are… attracted? …To the sad grungy dilf?” Jiyan didn't miss the faint tone of judgment in their voice.

“Mark my words Melian, I'm going to climb that man like a tree.”

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

Three days later, Jiyan was exhausted. The Wandering Woods had proved dangerous, not just for the wild peoples and monsters that could attack at any moment, but also for the difficult terrain and half overgrown path. He was definitely grateful Brone was with them, and not just for the grumpy eye candy. His sword, and crossbow, had come in handy more than once, whether it was shooting an attacker going straight for Rhiannon or hacking away vines that had blocked their path.

He was a skilled guide, despite having seen some combat, Brone had managed to steer them away from even more battles by sneaking around on less traveled pathways. It may have made their journey a bit longer, but everyone was grateful for it. One might think that their group would feel a bit closer to each other, but Brone still regarded them with distanced suspicion. Sure, he shared their campfire for dinner, but he slept separately from the group, often insisting on taking watch through most of the night, as if he didn't trust them capable of sharing the duty. Or to not stab him in his sleep. Always wrapped in that giant cloak, as if he didnt even trust them to know he had a body under there, in case they might know where his vital organs would be. Even that day, all day, he was grumpier than normal, eyebrows constantly furrowed in annoyance, snapping at Jiyan (even if he did deserve it most of the time), and terse with Rhiannon and Melian. Considering the man looked like the encyclopedic definition of someone who would lure them out into the woods with the promise of safety and security, then rob them and leave them for dead, the whole act felt a little rich if you asked Jiyan. Who definitely wasn't more than a little bitter that all of attempts at just simply flirting with Brone had gone completely, brutally, rebuffed.

At least that day had been quiet, at least where getting attacked was concerned. As they chose a spot to set up camp for the night, Brone grunted that they had just passed the thick of it, two more days and they would be at the next village. When Rhiannon had mentioned inheriting an old family farm and her desire to leave the adventuring life behind, Jiyan had been skeptical to say the least. But after the past few days, he was starting to see the appeal of settling down into a farm life. Well, maybe not settling, but he was definitely more open to the idea. As he thought about embracing the peace and serenity of life on a farm, Jiyan went to take care of the horses while Melian and Rhiannon started making dinner. He was just about to unhitch the horses, when he heard Brone's voice just on the other side of the wagon.

“-thought I had another week.” Brone muttered. Jiyan ducked down behind the horses and tried to be as quiet as possible. “Look, I just need two more days, alright? Just two more days and-” One of the horses softly whinied and dug their hoof into the dirt, Jiyan fought all of his instincts to shush it so he could listen. “Just one last job, and I'm yours, okay? Please, just two more days, I beg of you.”

Jiyan couldn't hear whoever Brone was talking to, but he sounded scared. He didn't even know Brone could be scared, let alone sound scared. It sounded like he'd made a deal with something, and now he'd gotten in over his head trying to keep his end of the bargain. Eyes wide, Jiyan snuck back to the campfire where his partners sat, blissfully unaware of what had just transpired.

“Guys, I think we're in danger.” He loudly whispered to them.

“What? What is it? Where's Brone?” Rhiannon practically shouted at the top of her gods-damned lungs as she stood, already unsheathing her rapier.

“Shush!” Ji desperately motioned her to sit back down. “I think Brone's who we're in danger from!”

“What, why would you think this?” Melian looked at him wide eyed and startled.

“I heard him talking to somebody behind the wagon, he was saying something about ‘one last job’ and ‘I just need 2 more days.'” Jiyan did a pretty fine impression of Brone's deep gravelly voice if you asked him, but Rhi's subtle eye roll seemed to disagree.

“Did you see who he was talking to?” She asked.

“No, I was safely hidden behind the horses, I didn't even hear them speak. I think he's going to, like, sacrifice us or something!” He whisper-shouted again.

“Look,” Melian put out their hands to motion them both to stay put. “We do not have all the facts, nor do we know exactly what we're up against. For now, just act as normal and stay with each other. Do not react yet.” Rhiannon and Jiyan looked at each other and nodded, ready to heed Melian’s word when they heard a loud slap against the side of the wagon.

“Fuck.” Brone growled, as one of his arms leaned against the side of the wagon facing them, the other clutching his stomach. Jiyan did not waste his first opportunity to catch a fleeting glimpse of what lay under that cloak, as it parted in front of them. Honestly, he was a little surprised, he hadn't expected Brone to be so… round… and… so soft looking under that leather armor. And he was dripping? Jiyan gasped as he realized a small pool had formed by Brone’s feet, his hand clutching at his stomach. Whatever he was talking to must have stabbed him, mortally wounding him, betrayed him for failing to follow their commands, now he’s bleeding out, bemoaning ever making that dark deal in the first place!

“He's in labor!” Melian gasps, as they leap up and rush towards him. Oh. OH. Yeah, that made a lot more sense actually.

Even lost in the throes of a contraction, oh gods a contraction, Brone still instinctively flinched away when Melian tried to put a comforting hand on their back. Jiyan's heart broke a little just watching it. Here he was afraid Brone was about to betray them all while they were asleep and vulnerable, yet the whole time Brone had been the most vulnerable one in the entire forest! Mel respectfully withdrew their hands, hovering in case of a sudden collapse. After a moment it seemed like the contraction ebbed away, as Brone looked up to find them all circled around him, wide eyed and staring.

“Fuck.” He groaned for the second, but probably not the last, time that night.

“You're in labor.” Melian stated, tone more purposefully neutral than usual.

“Yeah, I can bloody fucking tell.” Brone spat, and then he straightened up and sighed. “Look, we're already past the most dangerous bits of the forest, and you lot are already a lot stronger than most folks I take through here. Less than two days out, jus’ leave me here, and finish the journey. You don't even half to pay me the second half of the coin.”

“Let us get you to sit by the fire. Rhiannon, get extra buckets of water, and Jiyan, find some extra blankets. It is going to be a long night.” Melian replied.

“Didn't you just hear what I bloody fucking said?” Brone seethed, like a tomcat trapped in a corner.

“Yes. And I have decided to ignore it.” Mel calmly explained as they began to guide him towards the campfire.

“Why? You don't owe me shit!” He shouted, as if he wasn't the one being ridiculous here.

“I am trained in the arts of healing and midwifery, and it would go against my sacred duties to leave you here to birth your child alone, even if we were not in one of the most dangerous locations in the land.” Even Brone could sense the anger lurking in Melian’s usually unphased disposition, and his shoulders sagged as he relented and accepted his fate. He let Mel and Rhi help him sit as comfortably as he could by the fire, while Jiyan panicked and rushed to find the blankets.

“Here,” They reached for the ladle in the cooking pot and brought a ladle-full of softly steaming stew towards his mouth. “Eat something. You shall need to keep up your strength.” Brone glared at them as he reluctantly took a sip of the stew. Then another. Then another, as Melain watched him, until the ladle was empty.

“How far apart are the contractions?” Mel asked gently.

“I dunno, ‘bout 10 minutes I think.” He growled. They hummed in response.

“And why are you guiding groups through the Wandering Woods so close to your due date? Why are you anywhere near the Wandering Woods at all while carrying such precious cargo?” Mel’s anger returned, a rare display. Rhi decided it might be a good time to go get those buckets of water they'd requested earlier.

“I needed to save up for the kid didn't I?” Brone's jaw tensed, and he couldn't quite seem to meet Melian's eyes. “Not like anyone would hire me fer much else. Safer than staying with the mercenary companies anyway.”

“And what exactly, was your plan here?” Melian narrowed their eyes. Brone sighed.

“I thought I had more time, I thought I could do one last job, get a bit more coin before the kid came, then fuck off to some remote little cottage where I could raise them in fucking peace.”

“And where is this ‘remote little cottage’ located?”

“I, uh,” Brone shifted uncomfortably. “I hadn't quite gotten there yet.” Melian could see the quickly growing tidal wave shame and guilt swelling in his eyes, so they took a deep breath, and chose mercy. If his estimate was correct, his next contraction would be coming soon anyways, and it wouldn't do to add to his stress when he still had such a long way to go. Just then Jiyan came rushing back, arms full of blankets, shirts, pants, just about any and every piece of fabric he could find.

“Alright, I'm ready to catch this baby!” He cried, spreading his arms under all the fabric and squatting down in front of Brone. “You've got this Papa Bear!”

“What the fuck are y- augh!” The contraction hit Brone mid-protest, his eyes squeezing shut in surprise and pain, gritting his teeth while his body held him in a vice grip.

“Go on, push! You're going to meet your little one so soon!” Ji encouraged him, proud tears welling up in his eyes. Usually Rhiannon was the one to roll her eyes at his hijinks, but just this once Melian took the mantle as they put an arm out to stop his dramatics.

“Brone, do not push. Jiyan, do not give advice you are far from qualified to give.”

“What?” He gaped like a fish. “His water broke, isn't it time to push?”

“No, Jiyan.” Melian sighed. “Birth doesn't work like it does in the plays.”

“What are you talking about Mel? They can't all be wrong!”

“Jiyan.” Mel said after staring at Jiyan in disbelief for a moment. “If a play were to accurately depict a full and complete birth experience, the play would be several days long. It is simply shortened to water breaking and the baby being born immediately after to save time and heighten drama.”

“Wait, what do you mean days long? Do you mean he's going to be in labor for several more days?!” His jaw dropped as his eyes went comically wide.

“No, his child will likely be born before the dawn arrives. But, he has been in labor for the past several days, whether he had acknowledged it or not.” Mel gave a pointed look in Brone's direction, who was focused more on the intensity of the contraction without the cushion of his waters, than on educating Jiyan on the reality of childbirth.

“So this whole time Brone’s been in labor? Even through all the attacks, and hacking away at vines, and shit? Holy crap, he's even stronger than I th-”

“Would you please shut the fuck up.” Brone growled as the contraction ebbed away. “Is he going to be this annoying, the whole time?”

“You need to breathe.” Melian ignored his grumpy outburst.

“I need to wot?”

“Breathe. You are holding in your breath too much, and it is making the contraction more painful. Next contraction, try breathing like this.” They demonstrated the proper breathing technique for him.

“That's stupid. I'm not bloody doing that.” He frowned.

“Then you will regret it.” Melian stated plainly.

“Is that a fucking threat?” Anger flashed through Brone’s eyes, thinly veiling the relief of re-entering familiar social territory.

“No, I am simply stating the facts.” They replied, refusing to take Brone’s bait to rise to his anger.

“Don't knock it ‘til you try it, Papa Bear, that's what I always say!” Jiyan interjected in an attempt to be helpful. Brone rolled his eyes.

“Look, if you won't leave,” He pointed a finger at Melian. “can we at least send him on his way?” He jabbed his thumb in Jiyan’s direction.

“No.”

“Ugh, fine.”

“Now, have some more soup. You will need it.”

Eventually Rhiannon returned with the extra water, which Melian then set to boil. When Brone’s contraction returned, his face scrunched up again as he braced himself for the pain. At a simple reminder from Melian to breathe, he reluctantly relented, as Jiyan ‘helpfully’ exaggerated the breathing technique Mel had showed them earlier. When the contraction ended, Jiyans supportive thumbs up and big smile was met with an exasperated eye roll, but Ji would swear he was making progress with breaking down the emotional walls of the laboring man. Even if he did look like he was going to bite Jiyan’s hand off when he tried to help Brone out of his cloak and leather armor so he could be more comfortable. After a few more contractions, and making sure everyone had gotten some dinner, Melian approached Brone again.

“I'm going to have to check you at some point you know.” They said, glancing down.

“Wha-?! Like the bloody fuck you will!” Brone objected, hackles raised again.

“Uh, check what?” Jiyan asked while Rhiannon buried her face in her hands.

“His dilation, to see how far his cervix has opened to allow his child to pass into the birth canal once active labor begins.”

“Absolutely not!” Brone cheeks started to turn a deep shade of pink.

“Look, my guy,” Rhiannon interjected. “Did you plan on just giving birth into your pants?”

“... No.” He eventually muttered, refusing to meet any of their eyes as the pink of his cheeks continued to spread.

“Good. I will try to make it as unobtrusive as possible.” Mel knelt down in front of them. Brone rolled his eyes, but complied and started to take off his boots and pants, only pausing to breath through a contraction in the middle of it.

“How do you want me?” He finally asked, the blush blooming across his cheeks now completely unhideable.

“However you will feel most comfortable.”

Brone snorted but complied, not necessarily by getting comfortable but by just spreading his legs apart and refusing to look in Mel’s direction. True to their word, Melian tried their best to be as unobtrusive as possible, gently narrating what they were about to do as if they were talking to a spooked horse. Even so, Brone flinched when he felt their fingers inside, his body rigid and tense. Jiyan thought it would be the perfect time to step in to ask some questions and sate his curious mind.

“Sooooooooo... do you know who your ‘baby daddy’ is?” He asked, innocently and with no ulterior motives at all. “Asking for a friend.” He winked.

“Why the bloody fucking hell do you wanna know?” Brone glared at him. Ji shrugged.

“Just curious… Does your ‘baby daddy’ know they're your baby daddy?” Brone snorted.

“Bloke was so sozzed he didn't even realize I don't even ‘ave a cock, so I think it's safe to say, no, he don't know he’s my ‘baby daddy.’”

“Cool, cool, cool.” Jiyan nodded, mentally taking notes. “Good to know.”

“5 centimeters.” Mel rose, their diagnostic completed.

“And is that good? Is that bad?” Ji asked.

“It is neither, it simply means that his cervix has opened 5 out of the 10 centimeters it needs to in order to be fully dilated.”

“Oooooh. Way to go! Halfway there Papa Bear!” Jiyan cheered.

“Brone, you should take off your armor. It's already constricting your breathing, and it will continue to be a detriment during the course of your birth.”

“First my bloody pants, then my bloody fucking armor…” Brone grumbled as he complied and started to uncomfortably shift to unbuckle himself from his chest armor. He couldn't resist the sigh of relief that escaped him as the tight pressure on his chest released, then immediately became red in the face again as he realized there were two very large very prominent wet patches that had soaked through his dark gray top underneath the armor.

“Wow, you must've been hot under there too!” Jiyan said, before Brone could cover himself in his embarrassment.

“It is not sweat, Jiyan, it's milk.” Mel explained, before Rhiannon could stop them, as Brone’s face grew even more red. “The tightness of the leather armor likely applied enough pressure on his breasts to force a higher expression of milk than would have occurred naturally so close to giving birth.”

“Oh, so his armor was, like, milking him?” Jiyan asked. Brone ran a hand down his beet red face.

“You lot sure we can't leave him back in the thick of the woods? It's not too late.” He growled. Rhiannon smiled and shook her head.

“No can do. With our luck, he'd end up more powerful than ever, and still end up back here to annoy the hell out of us.” She teased.

“Yes. He is unnaturally canny at stumbling into lucky situations. There's no telling what horrors he would unleash from within those woods.” Mel pondered.

“Aw, you guys! I love you too!” Jiyan drawled, his hands over his chest as if he was overcome with emotion.

“Alright, change of subject before his ego gets too big to handle.” Rhiannon laughed. Melian nodded in earnest agreement.

The night passed on, with Brone’s contractions slowly getting closer and closer together, as he kept refusing Jiyan’s requests to feel the baby kick. Melian encouraged them all to try and get a little shut eye, but no one was very successful at it, least of all Brone himself. At some point Melian had convinced him to walk around a bit, reluctantly letting Rhiannon and Mel support him whenever a contraction hit as they slowly shuffled around the campsite, Jiyan playing some gentle calming melodies on his lyre.

Melian had tried to reassure Brone to move however his body wanted to move, whatever helped to relieve the discomfort, since he still tensed and seemed to be trying to squeeze in on himself, to lock himself in place whenever a contraction grabbed him. At first he had shaken his head, as if Melian's suggestions were absolutely ridiculous, but eventually he started to loosen up, swaying his hips just a little as he began to give into his body's demands. It was while he was leaning against the side of the wagon, groaning and swaying his hips through a particularly rough contraction, that Jiyan and Rhi were helping support him so Mel could have a rest before the ‘big event,’ that he spoke.

“This feels stupid.” He said, panting from the exertion his own body was putting him through. “This probably looks bloody stupid as hell, doesn't it.”

“Stupidly hot, Papa Bear.” Jiyan winked at him before Rhiannon could respond in the way a person with some semblance of common sense and self-preservation would have responded. Brone growled, getting increasingly overstimulated from everything his own body was putting him through already and annoyed with Jiyan's ‘teasing.’

“Why the fuck do you keep calling me that?” He snapped.

“Why do I keep calling you Papa Bear? I mean look at you.” Jiyan ignored Rhi’s warning look. “You're a giant bear of a man, and well, the baby's not born yet, but you're already a papa in my heart!”

Brone's response to his encouragement and complement was underwhelming. He'd expected at least some indignation and confusion, but instead was met with soft cursing and a scrunched face.

“...Something’s… different.” He ground out after a moment.

“Mel!” Rhiannon called out, unable to hide the rising edge of concern in her voice. Melian, who was supposed to be resting, but decidedly was not resting, was at Brone’s side in a heartbeat. A quick check later and they looked into his eyes.

“Do you feel like you need to push?”

The terrified whimper seemed to come from somewhere else, because never in a million gazillion years could that sound have come from Brone of all people. But come from Brone it did, to match the wide eyed look of terror that briefly took over his face.

“See, even your baby knows you're meant to be a Papa Bear!” Jiyan smiled. Brone’s face shifted back towards a comfortable annoyed eyeroll and the sound that escaped his throat sounded less like a terrified whimper and more like his classic disgruntled groan.

“Quit joking Ji, and help get him into the cart.” Rhiannon commanded, her voice terse as if she were shouting out directions during a fight. Together they guided him towards the back of the wagon, which Mel had been preparing to be a makeshift birthing center, lamenting that they wouldn't have the usual soothing pools and hanging ropes that would have, supposedly, helped Brone feel more comfortable. At the back of the cart another contraction squeezed him in its vice grip, harder than it ever had before.

“Push if you feel the urge to push, do not fight your body Brone.” Mel said, softly but sternly.

“But-” Was all he could gasp out, barely more than a grunt.

“Your baby will not be born in one push, I assure you.”

It must have been Melian's tone, or perhaps their apparent expertise in the situation at hand, but by some miracle Brone trusted them, and bore down into a hard squat. Teeth clenched together, brows so furrowed together they almost became one, gripping the top step of the wagon, he pushed, and pushed hard. The contraction released him with a gasp, Mel's hand applying pressure on his lower back keeping him from falling backwards.

“I felt- I felt it… move down.” He whispered, both in wonder and in fear. “Fuck, it feels so heavy now.” He groaned and clutched at the low hanging base of his belly.

“Where do you feel most comfortable? Here, in this position, or within the wagon?” Mel prompted, as focused as they ever are when in their role as healer.

“Wagon, definitely inside the wagon.” Brone panted, still out of breath from the contraction and awkwardly climbing the steps into the wagon, slowly, with their legs spread wide, as if ready to squat and push again at a moment's notice. Or perhaps he was simply unable to with his baby’s head already spreading him wide from within his birth canal. The trio helped him get as comfortable as possible, his back resting against a built-in bench near the front of the wagon.

“Why inside the wagon? It's so cramped with all of us in here.” Jiyan complained.

“Safer in the wagon, covered on three sides, can see any threats coming from the fo- augh!” Brone’s head fell back as the contraction hit without warning, Melian reminding him to listen to his body, to push, to breathe. Jiyan and Rhiannon instinctively offered their hands for support, their offer hesitantly taken at the contractions peak.

“Jiyan-” Rhiannon started to warn but was cut off by a melodic voice, Melian’s voice echoing through their heads. Keep distracting him, Jiyan. He looked to his friend, preparing the supplies they needed, and gave them a brief short nod. Then, just for a little bit of fun, as a treat, turned and poked his tongue out at Rhiannon.

“Keep pushing, Papa Bear!” He made it his own little game to try and find all the different ways he could encourage Brone to push. Winning quite a few confused reactions from the rest of the wagon. It didn't take very long until Brone was plastered with sweat, hair sticking to his face, the wet sheen making it more apparent how red his face was getting with the grueling effort of bearing down through the contractions. To everyone's surprise, he even let Rhiannon put his hair into a loose bun, only flinching twice. Having his hair out of his face and off the back of his neck was even more of a relief than he thought it would be, judging from the brief moment his body untensed once she'd finished.

Jiyan continued to hold his hand through the contractions, while Rhiannon clasped his other forearm and dabbed at his forehead with a damp rag. Considering the size of him, and the man’s almost supernatural strength proven over the last few days, Ji thought he was holding his own pretty well, with his thin manicured musician's fingers tightly gripping Brone’s scarred meaty hands in response. Until during a particularly rough contraction, when Jiyan briefly felt a painful twinge run through the back of his hand, he wasn't able to catch the soft hiss of pain before the traitorous air escaped his mouth. He felt Brone’s grip release despite him being caught in the throes of a contraction, and was supposed to be putting his full concentration into pushing his baby out to meet the world. Ji felt a ball of guilt start to form in the pit of his stomach, as he realized Brone was spending his much needed baby-pushing energy on holding his strength back. He knew any encouragement to do otherwise would just be met with grumpy stubbornness, but Jiyan didn't know how to let Brone know it was okay to let go, even if it would hurt him temporarily in the process.

“Brone, you're starting to overheat. Would you feel cooler if you took your tunic off?” Mel asked, to the rescue as usual. Brone looked at them, panting and red in the face from the contraction that had just ended, eyes full of pain and uncertain emotions, but paused only a moment before giving one quick nod. Together, they all got him out of his sweat drenched tunic, quickly, before his next contraction hit. He sighed in relief again, as the cool night air hit his skin, hairy chest and the happy trail from his popped out navel down the swell of his belly now on full display. As he glanced down, Ji could see his breasts already beginning to release droplets of milk on their own, as if they knew they wouldn't have long before his baby would be feeding at his chest.

“Nice tits Papa Bear.” Jiyan leered, just as the contraction hit and quickly ramped up. Without enough time to react with a growl or with an eyeroll, Ji felt the full force of Brone’s strength, taking a note out of Mel’s quick birthing lessons and breathing through the pain searing across his hand as Brone himself screamed from behind clenched teeth, his lips curled into a snarl. He could even see Rhi wince a bit on the other side of him.

“Fuck… off…” Brone growled as the pain began to ebb away.

“Hey, I'm just sayin’, that's one lucky baby.” He winked as the pain of the next contraction quickly flowed back through Brone's body, earning himself more searing pain radiating from his hand, squeezed so tightly he could barely grip back. Brone growled in annoyance at the end of it, but with a couple more well-timed over the top inappropriate comments about how hot he looked pushing out his big beautiful baby, Brone seemed to get the message. That Jiyan, and by extension Rhiannon and even Melian, could handle whatever he could dish out if it meant it would help him. And just in time too.

“F- fuck! Something- something's wrong, it burns.” He groaned, head rolling back as tears pricked at the corner of his eyes.

“It is called the Ring of Fire, painful, but completely natural. It means your child will soon be here.” Melian explained. But Brone shook his head, too overcome by pain and exhaustion to listen.

“I can't- I can't bloody do this!” He sobbed helplessly, his head still lolling side to side.

“Give me your hand.” Mel gently commanded.

“I can't. I can't do it.” Brone whined, too consumed by pain to hear them.

“Brone, please give- … thank you Jiyan.” Melian said, as Jiyan held out the hand still clutched in Brone's to them. They guided the pairs hands down between Brone’s legs. Jiyan hesitated and tried to let go but Brone’s hand was still white knuckled and refusing to unclasp, barely aware of anything besides the pain wracking his body. Mel gently brushed both of their knuckles along something that felt slimy, and a little sticky, and hairy?

“Is that?” Brone’s eyes shot open, wonder and amazement momentarily overcoming the pain and panic.

“That is indeed the top of your child’s head.” They smiled.

“I was just gonna say ew, Mel,” Jiyan momentarily glared at them. “But nevermind, that's your baby’s head! Let's go Papa Bear!” He cheered. A new energy surged through Brone, his jaw tensed in determination as he steeled himself for the next contraction.

“You've got this Brone.” Rhiannon clasped his forearm in preparation and gave him a quick supportive nod. “Just a few more pushes to go.”

“Help hold his thighs back further, it will help him spread further.” Melian commanded, and Rhi and Ji were quick to comply as they watched the stomach muscles across Brone’s belly begin to tighten again. Chin pressed down into his tits, Brone shouted as if charging into battle as he bore down with all his strength into his biggest push so far. It felt like forever before the contraction subsided, Brone, red faced from the effort let his head lay back on the bench for a moment.

“Good, keep pushing! Just like that!” Melian encouraged. Now too focused on putting all his energy into pushing instead of words, they only received a brief nod in response from Brone. But as long as he was responding, that was enough for Mel. It was only a few more big pushes like that before Melian stopped him.

“Brone.” They made sure to get his attention as the most recent contraction ended. “The next contraction do not push. Don't push again until I say so.”

“Wot?!” Brone snapped up and stared at them wide eyed and panicked. “Is the baby-?” He trailed off, as if he couldn't handle finishing the sentence, finishing the thought. Jiyan and Rhiannon’s wide eyed stares mirrored him.

“No, the baby will be perfectly fine. You need to give your vagina a chance to stretch, or you will tear.” Mel said sternly.

“Who gives a shit?” Brone groaned.

“I do.” Melian snapped. Well as much as Melian of all people could snap. “And you should as well. I only have so much healing magic and I do not have the tools or supplies out here to stitch you up if I need to.” Ji shivered, as he thought about how painful it must be, to get stitches in your coochie. Brone rolled his eyes in exhausted annoyance.

“Fine.” He grunted as the next contraction quickly started. It was obvious that without pushing that pain wore down on him more quickly, sobbing whines escaping his throat as he uncomfortably writhed on the wagon floor, still clasping tightly to Jiyan and Rhiannon.

“Fuck, this- this is worse. This is so much worse.” He shakily moaned in the brief break between contractions, each one practically one on top of the other, as if his body was getting just as impatient as he was.

“I know. Just hold on to Rhiannon and Jiyan, let them support you through it. Just two more okay?” Mel laid a cooling hand on Brone’s sweat soaked belly, feeling the muscles twitch and constrict as the next contraction started. Brone huffed out an annoyed groan in response as he gripped both of their hands tighter than ever before, preparing for another tidal wave of pain without the relief of pushing. After what felt like an eternity that one ended, and a microsecond later the next one took over the exhausted man's battered body and overwhelmed mind.

“FUCK!” He screamed to the heavens, as he threw his head back, back arched as if the pain was so great it was forcing his body off of the ground as the most intense contraction yet peaked, and peaked, and kept hitting new peaks of endless pain for the poor man to endure. Jiyan, realizing Brone was too far gone to pay attention to him, briefly whimpered through his own pain, as if Brone was so overwhelmed he was subconsciously transferring some of his own into him. He yelped as he heard a muffled crack! coming from his own hand, and his personal pain increased tenfold. Panicked and his cheeks puffed out, having miraculously, and in a feat on uncharacteristic strength, stopped himself pre-scream, Jiyan looked to Melian for help.

Later. They said sympathetically, telepathically, as Melian could on occasion use their gifts to do. I do not know how much healing magics I will have left once this is over. Jiyan could see concern in their eyes, not just for him and his hand, but for the fate of Brone and his baby. Things have gone smoothly enough so far, but I do not know yet what may go wrong. Jiyan, biting his lip to continue to contain his scream, nodded. A broken hand could be reset, if something went wrong with Brone or his baby then… he didn't want to think about that. He coaxed Brone, in his discombobulated state, to take his other hand. No use causing it further damage. Especially if he might need to get a splint instead of healing magic once this was all said and done.

“Alright Brone, on this next one, push.” Melian commanded.

“Thank fuck. Finally.” He groaned, as Rhiannon reached out again and pulled back his thigh on her side, and Melian leaned forward and pushed back the thigh on Ji’s side. The relief was short lived as the next contraction gripped him, but he grit his teeth and used all his strength to bear down, determined to meet his child before the dawn's light.

“You are doing good, Brone. The baby is making good progress.” Mel encouraged him after a few more contractions. Brone's frustrated growl seemed to disagree. He seemed to get more antsy and frustrated as the contractions wore on, despite everyone's assurances that he was doing a good job.

“Fuck this.” He eventually snarled at them, letting go of his death grip on their hands and kicking away their support on his thighs. He then grabbed his thighs himself and pulled back as far as he physically could, as if trying to curl in on himself, then pushed. Ji could see the veins throbbing in his forehead, as Brone pushed so hard no noise escaped his mouth, his teeth clenched so hard it looked like they might break.

“I see the nose, you are doing well.” Melian encouraged again.

“No offense Mel, I don't think he's listening at the moment.” Jiyan said, now awkwardly sitting there while he watched Brone, so lost in labor that the only thing he was capable of listening to was the overwhelming instinct to bear down and give birth.

“Yes, I know Jiyan, but the soothing tone of encouragement never hurts does it?” They raised an eyebrow at him while they monitored the baby's progress. Ji shrugged.

“Hell yeah, let's fucking go Papa Bear!” He hollered, pumping his fist in the air. Not the one that was broken of course, the other one. Duh. He watched as Brone continued to push and push, following in the time honored tradition, passed down from generation to generation, followed as long as such a thing as creatures and people have existed, by listening solely to the instincts so deeply encoded into his being to spread his legs and give birth. Ignoring everyone and everything else, just solely focused on what his body commanded him to do in order to safely push his baby out. If Melian told Brone to stop just then, Ji didn't think he'd be able to. If he could even hear them in the first place. Suddenly relief flashed across Brone’s body and he momentarily untensed.

“The head is out! Wait one moment, let me check the babe’s neck.” Melian said, as they quickly made sure the baby wouldn't choke on the umbilical cord. “Alright, you're good to push. All that's left is the shoulders and I can safely pull them out.”

It didn't even seem like Brone was paying attention to them at that point, but even so he readjusted and prepared to push again. It only took two more powerful determined teeth gritting pushes, before he suddenly collapsed as relief flooded through his body. Gasping for air as if he'd been sprinting the entire length of the Wandering Woods, Brone closed his eyes for a moment as the sweet sweet high of relief raced through his veins. After a moment of silence, everyone expectantly looked at Melian, still moving down between Brone’s legs. One more beat of increasingly concerned silence, then the loud sharp cry of a newborn infant deafened them in the confines of the wagon.

Brone immediately held his arms out in wide-eyed wonder, eyes already wet, not from the pain anymore, but from joy and pride. Melian smiled fondly at him as they quickly but gently put the baby into a soft towel, then reverently placed them in their father's arms, umbilical cord still attached.

“This one has been born male.” Melian informed them. Brone held his newborn child and smiled. A big smile, one that would have looked so foreign and out of place on his face just hours ago, a smile so pure and full of joy. A smile that made him look 10 years younger, a smile they somehow all knew he hadn't smiled since he was a small child himself.

“So, you're the wee little thing that almost split my cunt open.” Brone sniffled and laughed proudly, in this pure blissful moment, unashamed of letting his tears of joy fall freely down his face. His baby still cried, likely upset over being forcibly ejected from its warm comfy home, but started to settle down in his father's arms, clenched little hands clumsy moving up as if reaching towards his voice.

Jiyan put his non-broken hand over his heart, practically on the verge of tears himself. Even Rhiannon, the usually stoic warrior of their little group, sniffled and wiped a tear from their eye.

“What’s their name?” She whispered, as if she was afraid she'd ruin the sanctity of the moment.

“Wulf. My little boy’s name is Wulf.”

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

“At least it was a clean break.”

Jiyan breathed a sigh of relief as Melian’s healing magic flooded through his hand, mending the fracture, gods, weaving back together the damaged tendons in their hand and fingers.

“Wait a moment before trying to move it, let the magic do its work.” They told him, before they turned to Rhiannon’s less injured, but still extremely bruised arm. After Melian had helped deliver the placenta, then coached Rhi on massaging Brone’s belly to help his uterus contract back towards its normal size, while they cleaned up both baby and father; the trio had left the pair to get some quality one-on-one time alone in the wagon. Back by the campfire, now down to its embers, Melian had finally asked to take a look at Jiyan’s hand.

As the first light of dawn began to peek through the forest, Ji couldn't help but smile as he thought about the events of the night, of the past few days even, of the new happy little family resting in the wagon, grateful that both of them had Melian’s official stamp of good health.

“Hey Mel.” Melian hummed in response, only looking curiously at Jiyan once they were sure their magic had taken hold on Rhiannon’s arm.

“Told you I knew a dilf when I see one.”

Part 2

#mpreg #my art #mpreg art #my ramblings #mpreg belly #mpreg birth #brone #jiyan #rhiannon #melian #please tell me if you like this one i put a lot into writing it and im a little nervous about posting it! please love brone as much as i do #building a home #tmpreg #tmpreg birth

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fanfiction4sooya · 2 months

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Thoughts on g!p yunjin and chaewon?

Yunjin's is bigger, I can feel it, but Chaewon's is girthier (and I would gladly sit on both of them )

Two losers, but yunjin can't control herself, often getting hard when you are doing anything that needs her attention such as tying your hair or simply spoon feed you when she is cooking. Definitely gets lost staring at your lips and when she snaps back to reality, there it is: a huge boner. Very playful when you two have sex but she takes pleasing you very very seriously, which means she doesn't mind staying painfully hard if it means you'll get to come first! Loves giving and receiving oral sex and she loves rutting into your mouth while you grind on her tongue whilst doing 69

Nasty cum play, and I mean naaaasty. That girl loves kissing you while you have her cum on your tongue 🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴

Chaewon is romantic, but baby is possessive. You can't tell me she isn't one to mark your boobs and specially your inner thighs whenever she feels someone staring a bit too much at you. Her thing is physical touch, likes to keep her hands on you all the time. Imagine Chaewon caressing your face while she is balls deep inside your mouth? Or holding your face when she is slamming her cock inside you? I feel like she likes missionary just so she can hug you tight against her so she empty herself all inside you. She will cockwarm you afterwards, you can be sure of that. And she will praise you as well, always telling how good you did for her and her only.

I feel like she likes to watch you dance for her, hand down her pants as you try to learn one of her choreos 🤤🤤

#gxg smut #yunjin smut #chaewon smut #le sserafim smut

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pearlessance · 2 months

Text

Fishnets & Old Fashioned's

Summary - Tommy Miller wants a big titty goth gf and isn't above begging on his knees to get one.

Pairing - Tommy Miller/goth!bartender!Reader

Warnings: explicit sexual content MDNI, begging, dom/sub undertones, switch!Tommy and switch!Reader, tongue piercings, nipple play, dirty talk, semi-public, hair pulling, vaginal fingering, kneeling, body worship

[crossposted on AO3]

There are very few things in the world better than a nice, strong drink after a long day at work. In fact, it tended to be Tommy Miller’s favorite part of the night. That—and chatting up the prettiest girls in his favorite bar.

Tommy and Joel would often go together after a particularly rough day in the unforgiving Texas heat, and the best bar in town was the best for no reason other than the bartender. Frank was a mean, old bastard—but Christ could he mix a perfect Old Fashioned. It was exactly what Tommy craved after a day like today, where everything went wrong and nothing went right and his calloused hands were marked up with cuts and splinters.

Except Frank, apparently, wasn’t working today. And you stand in his place behind the rickety mahogany bar. A small slip of a girl, nearly half Frank’s size but somehow no less intimidating. In fact, Tommy finds himself even more intimidated by you, with your dyed hair and ripped fishnets beneath a tight, black tank top that sports the white skull of the Misfits logo.

He sits at the bar beside Joel, but his eyes never leave you. Your fingernails are painted black, thumbs sticking through the netting over your hands, and Tommy thinks you look terrifying and captivating and lethal and beautiful all at once. It’s rare to see girls like this in the deep south—girls who embody the shadows as a fashion accessory, girls who look like they may sprout horns or claws at any given moment, girls with siren eyes and fatal lips and switchblade curves.

Tommy Miller will be the first to admit that you scare him. Tommy Miller will also be the first to admit that yeah—he’d definitely let you eat his soul.

You’re mixing a cosmopolitan for some uppity lady at the other end of the bar, and he watches your nimble fingers as you place the lime garnish and slide the glass to the customer. You give her a pretty smile, and Tommy admires the crimson stain on your lips and wonders if it’s possible to seduce a succubus.

When you walk over to them, he can’t help but attempt to immediately create rapport. He doesn’t know the Misfits well but has heard their new song on the radio once. He leans in and asks, “You gotta name, vampire girl?”

You don’t laugh, but it doesn’t deter Tommy in the slightest. You brace your hands against the bar and say, “Depends on who’s askin.’”

“No one special,” he says with a casual shrug. “Just the man of your dreams.”

The cutest snort leaves your nose, and it feels like a win. “Let me guess,” you say, pointing a finger at Tommy. “Old Fashioned. And for you…” For a moment, you narrow your eyes at Joel. “Either Jack and Coke or Johnny Walker on the rocks.”

It’s like witchcraft, he thinks. Because you’re completely right and Tommy’s only ever known Joel to order a Jack and Coke—and suddenly he’s fumbling, trying desperately to turn your attention away from his brother. “How did you do that?”

“Experience,” you say. “You need a double? You look like you need a double.”

He does—but Tommy isn’t sure whether to take your words as an insult or not. He finds that he doesn’t really care either way, because you're looking at him now and he’s grinning like a madman and desire creeps up his spine as you lean over and fill a glass with ice. Tommy’s always been an ass man, swore up and down once he always would be—but holy fuck, he feels himself changing. “A double would be great, darlin’. Maybe I can get a little something on the side, too,” he says with a playful wink.

“Jesus,” Joel huffs.

You set to work on mixing their drinks—Joel’s first, and then Tommy’s. When you set his on the bar, there are two glasses—one that looks like his normal Old Fashioned, and a shot glass filled with a clear liquid. “A little something on the side,” you tell him. “You guess what it is and I won’t charge you for it. Guess wrong and it goes on your tab.”

His first instinct is to say it’s vodka—it’s still like water, completely crystalline. But when he tries to pick it up to smell it, you put a black-painted finger up.

“Nope. That’s cheating.”

“It could be anything,” he argues. “What if it’s gin and I guess vodka?”

The corners of your pretty mouth turn up into a smirk. “Is that your guess? Vodka?”

“No,” he says quickly. “No, no—uhm…,” he stutters. Tommy has no goddamn idea and knows he’ll never be able to guess correctly, but you seem to be enjoying his struggle, so he flounders a bit longer than necessary.

But then you raise the stakes.

You lean forward, layered silver necklaces glittering in front of your god-blessed cleavage, and he has to try not to stare too long. He definitely stares—but not enough to be weird about it. “Guess correctly and I’ll give you my number, casanova.”

It feels a little like gambling. Tommy knows he has a way with women, knows a flash of his dimples and a little southern charm goes a long way around here. But something tells him it’s just not gonna work with you, and he wants you so badly that he’s willing to make himself look like a fool if that’s what it takes. “How long ‘til the offer expires?”

With a glance at an imaginary watch, you say, “I’m here until two. After that…who’s to say?”

Tommy sits there and watches you walk away, watches you give that pretty smile to another man who orders a shot of tequila.

When he takes a sip of his Old Fashioned, he wonders what the fuck is in it because it’s the best goddamn drink he’s ever had. Better than anything Frank has ever made him, better than any he’s gotten at that fancy bar in Houston he went to a year ago—smokey and bitter and strong and delicious.

Joel calls him stupid, says he’s insane for even looking at a girl like you, mentions how much younger you are and how you’re likely just entertaining him for tips. Tommy orders another drink anyway and promises to get a cab home when Joel insists he’s ready to leave.

The crowd dies down the longer the night stretches on, and you keep placing drinks in front of him moments after he finishes the one in his hands. Once, when you have your back turned, Tommy dips the tip of his index finger into the shot glass.

But before he can bring it to his lips, you’re suddenly standing right in front of him. Your hand flits across the bar and encloses around his wrist. You click your tongue and his gaze is transfixed on the flash of metal in your mouth. “Cheaters don’t get prizes,” you tell him.

Tommy watches dazedly as you bring his finger to your lips. “Cheating? I would never do something…” he loses his train of thought, because you suck the tip of his finger into your mouth, cleaning up the clear liquid, and he can feel the metal barbell pierced through your tongue. It sends a jolt of electricity dancing along his spine and he wonders how it would feel against other parts of him. When you pull away slowly, Tommy clears his throat and blinks a few times before he can resume his sentence. “…I’d never do something like that,” he finishes.

Two in the morning approaches way too fast, and while it may seem a little strange that he’s sitting here all alone for so long, pondering over this clear liquid, he finds that he loves watching you move. You’ve got some kind of dark magic about you, he thinks. Men throw themselves at you, some even more so than Tommy, but you never give them half a chance. He watches as you turn those siren eyes on them and take the words right out of their mouths, watches as you state clearly and silently that while their attempts interest you, none of them ever hold you.

He thinks about the phrase god is a woman, but wonders if the devil is, too.

After the last call, Tommy remains the last person in the bar. You graciously allow him to keep seated even as you clean the sticky bar top and turn the chairs upside down and lay them on the tables. You emerge from the back room a little after two-thirty with a black backpack shaped like a bat and a ruby leather jacket. “Last chance, casanova,” you say. “Got a guess yet?”

Tommy licks his lips. “I need a hint.”

“No hints. Time’s up. Guess.”

There’s the faintest smile on your face, and Tommy hopes that even if he guesses wrong you’ll take pity on him and give him something. He gives it his best shot; “Tequila?”

You don’t answer. Instead, you lift the shot glass to your mouth and swallow half of it. You slide it to him, and even though Tommy is more of a dark liquor person, he drinks the remaining liquid and cringes at the taste. “Should’ve followed your gut instinct,” you say.

Tommy hates vodka. Even more so now than he did the morning after prom. Still, he can’t help but laugh. “Oh, come on, darlin’,” he says. “I guessed it once. That’s gotta count for something.”

Through a soft laugh, you ask, “Why are you so determined? It’s just a game.”

Because he’s spent the last three and a half hours fantasizing about what a great lay you would be. Because he knows deep in his bones that you’d do some shit that’d make a man fall in love. Because he wants to unravel your pretty mystery and drink in that hypnotic poison. Because yes—it’s just a game, but Tommy Miller is no fucking loser. “I like to win.”

You let him walk you out, even let him walk you to your car at the back of the dark lot. Don’t you know how dangerous a situation this could be? All alone with him, beneath the cover of night…he isn’t a bad man, but something tells him you wouldn’t mind it even if he was. You say goodnight, and Tommy calls a cab and fights the urge to return to the bar the following night.

He waits until the weekend, like a normal person, despite the fact that he thinks of nothing but dyed hair and silver necklaces and fishnets and tongue piercings until then. He doesn’t carpool with Joel to work Friday morning, because he has every intention of staying at the bar and playing his hand until the early morning hours again.

But before he arrives, Tommy decides to turn his charm up a little. He stops at a local florist on the way and spends probably too much time deciding on which ones you’d like best. He settles on a half dozen roses whose color reminds him of that crimson stain on your lips but stops short at the checkout. Behind the counter, a bouquet of the very same roses is set in a half-empty vase—except the petals are dark and wilted. Tommy knows immediately that those are the ones he needs.

The florist raises her eyebrows in concern when he asks specifically for the dead ones, and Tommy promises he’ll pay full price for them if that’s what it takes.

He walks out of there with a bouquet of dead roses and sits on the same stool at the bar as last week. You’re serving someone across the room, a tray of margaritas in your hand. Tommy admires your long legs, thinks fishnets look even better on your thick thighs than beneath that one Misfits top. Your leather boots shine beneath the low lighting, and he has the sick desire to be crushed beneath them. When you finish serving the group of girls in the booth and turn back to the bar, his heart races in his chest.

You make him nervous, Tommy realizes. He wants to please you, wants you to like his gift, wants you to give him that pretty smile you always give everyone else. But when you set the tray behind the counter you don’t even look up at him before you start mixing another drink. Tommy thinks about how that makes him feel, how dissatisfied he is without your attention. But then you slide an Old Fashioned over the bar and give him something even better. “You miss me or something, casanova?”

Tommy hands you the dead roses and nods. “Like hell, vampire girl. You gonna let me take you out or what?”

You inhale the sickly sweet scent of the flowers, and when you look up at him through those dark lashes all the blood in Tommy’s head rushes straight to his dick. “You don’t wanna go out with a girl like me,” you say.

He folds his arms over one another and leans across the bar. “And why’s that?”

You laugh like God, Tommy thinks. And for a second he’s lost in the sound, the cluster of clinking glass and murmured voices fading into the background of his mind. But then you give him the sweetest, most innocent smile and say, “Because I’ll break your heart.”

“So?” The question is paired with a shrug, and it comes out of his mouth before he can stop it. But Tommy, once again, is more than willing to look like a fool to have you if only for a night. “C’mon, sweetheart. Give an old man a chance. I swear I’ll make it good for you.”

“Would you now?”

He nods once. “The best date you’ll ever have.”

“You don’t even know what I like to do outside of here,” you say. It’s a reasonable concern, and a true one. But he wants to know.

You snort and shake your head when he suggests playfully, “Picnic in the cemetery?”

“Right next to dear old grandma?”

“Be the first woman I ever bring home to meet the family, baby.”

Another man at the end of the bar snaps his fingers in the air to get your attention and Tommy suddenly feels like fighting. He doesn’t, though—and reminds himself when you giggle at someone else’s joke that you’re just working, just doing your job.

Friday’s are slower than Saturdays, it seems, and by midnight the only people left in the bar are you, Tommy, and a guy in a booth half passed out. You emerge from behind the bar with your backpack slung over your shoulder.

“I’m gonna step outside for a minute. Keep me company?”

It’s the most exciting thing he’s heard all night. Tommy jumps to his feet, the bar stool scraping noisily against the sticky floor. He lifts the partition up for you to walk through. “Ladies first.”

The midnight air is cool against his skin, and he notices as he leans against the siding of the bar that you smell like cherries. Cherries with poisoned pits. You pull a little metal box from your backpack, and Tommy watches you pull out a joint, place it between your lips, and light it. He watches you inhale deeply, watches you lick your lips, watches that metal barbell in your mouth like it’ll grant him his salvation.

Tommy can’t help himself. His words spill out of his mouth. “You are so pretty,” he says.

You laugh lightheartedly and turn those siren eyes on him again and he’s weak in the knees. He takes the joint when you offer it. Tommy hasn’t smoked weed since he was twenty-one, but the taste is nice, somehow earthy and fruity at the same time, and your eyes are searing him to the bone. “Thanks,” you say softly. “You’re pretty too.”

He chuckles and passes it back to you. “Well ain't you a peach,” he says. “If I’m so pretty why don’t you let me take you out?”

There’s a moment of hesitation before you answer. And for a split second, Tommy thinks you might actually give in to him. But then you ask, “Have you ever been with a girl like me, casanova?”

No, he hasn’t, and maybe that’s a part of the appeal. All he knows is that he wants to slip his fingers underneath your black tank top and fill up his hands with your softness. He flashes you an award-winning smile and answers, “First time for everything.”

A soft snort leaves your nose. “So, no, then,” you say, the smallest bit of disappointment laced through your tone. You take another long drag from the joint and smoke swirls around your pretty hair. “Probably couldn’t even handle it.”

His mouth falls open in mock astonishment. “And how do you figure that?”

“Call it intuition,” you say. “Or experience.” Tommy takes the joint from between your fingers and his lungs ache as he inhales. Your eyes stay there, right on his mouth, even as he slowly exhales and licks his lips.

It’s right then, as he watches your siren eyes darken, that he knows he’s made a dent in that black heart of yours. Or at the very least, he knows he’s making progress. The thought excites him so much he can’t hold back his smile. “You ain’t ever experienced me though, darlin',” he says.

“You’re persistent,” you say. “I’ll give you that.”

The weed is going straight to his head, creating an airiness in his limbs. Tommy asks playfully, “What’s it gonna take to convince you? A fancy date? Maybe dinner and a movie? Maybe we’ll take a day trip to San Antonio and visit that old school gothic cathedral they have down there. You ever seen it?”

“No,” you say with a shake of your head. “It sounds cool though. I’d probably like it.”

Tommy nudges you with his elbow. “Name the time and place and I’ll take you, vampire girl.”

“That wasn’t a yes,” you tease.

He hangs his head between his shoulders and quickly decides he’s not above a little groveling. “Come on,” he says. “Just one chance. What’s it gonna take? Name your price, baby. Want me to pick up some roadkill and set up a taxidermy date?” You let out a pretty laugh, and it feels like such a victory that he keeps going. “How about I build you a haunted house? A personal one all for you—I work in construction, you know. I could make it real nice. Ghost hunting? There’s an abandoned building just up the road, looks creepy as shit.”

You’re smiling so hard the apples of your cheeks are flushed the sweetest shade of pink. “That old apartment building? You wanna find the ghost of the maintenance man?”

Tommy shrugs. “Hey, if that’s what you wanna do, I’ll grab my wrenches for a summoning circle. Go all out for you,” he says. You shake your head, and he continues. “I mean, anything you want, I’ll do it. Sell my soul? Tell me where to sign. I gotta pen in my back pocket. You wanna drink my blood?” He pats the side of his neck, right above his jugular vein. You let out another laugh, and it brings so much joy to him that Tommy can’t help but laugh with you. “I’m all yours. Swear it. You want me to beg on my knees?”

“Now there’s an idea,” you say through your giggles.

And he knows it’s a joke, knows you’re not serious, and maybe it’s the weed making him feel so carefree and blithe but he fucking does it. In the front of the bar, where anyone could pull in and see him, Tommy Miller drops to his knees in front of you and places his warm, calloused hands on the back of your fishnet covered thighs. Your skin is so soft, he thinks, and he has to fight against the urge to lean forward and bite the supple flesh. Instead, he looks up at you through his lashes, noting the way your laughter stops and your breath stutters. And because his inhibition has been shattered by his need for you, he says lowly, “Is this what you want, sweetheart? You want me to beg for it?”

He watches your tongue dart out to wet your lips and swallows the low groan at the back of his throat. “Maybe,” you say, breathless.

Tommy leans forward, eyes never leaving yours, and presses a wet kiss to the soft flesh of your thigh. He can’t resist his smile when he feels goosebumps break out across your skin, and so he does it again. This time his lips are much greedier, much closer to the inside of your thighs, and he daringly decides to taste you. He can feel the rough edges of your fishnets across the flat of his tongue and wonders how he’s gone thirty years of his life without ever dating a goth girl, wonders how he’ll ever go back. He wonders how the fuck you’re so magnetic, how just existing this close to you makes his cock throb in his jeans.

His mouth nears the edge of your black denim shorts. Tommy expects you to stop him, expects you to laugh or shove him away. But you don’t. You instead slide pointy, black painted fingernails through the thick curls of his hair. Your touch is gentle, and lazy — such a contradiction to his desperate movements.

“Let me take you out,” he says. “I can make you feel so good, sweetheart.” And to prove his point, he does the one thing he’s wanted to this whole time; Tommy Miller softly bites the inside of your thigh, delighting in your sharp inhale. He kisses the sting away, tasting you again, taking your scent deep into his lungs. He wants to devour you, he thinks. He wants you to devour him. “Please,” he pleads, sliding his hands upwards to rest on the decadent curve of your ass.

Your hand in his hair tightens, pulling at the dark curls lightly. “Well, since you asked so nicely,” you say. There’s a too-long pause, and Tommy’s grinning like a hopeful idiot, and then you tilt your head and whisper, “No.”

He lets out an exasperated breath and presses his forehead against your abdomen. He can feel his cheeks warm from embarrassment, but then he looks up at you again and the mischievous glint in your pretty eyes makes the chagrin worth it. “Goddamn, girl,” he says. “You are mean.”

There’s no argument to be had from you, but your siren eyes stay fixed on him even as he stands from his knees and Tommy swears that dark desire still lingers in them. Especially when he straightens to his full height, towering over you, and places both palms against the brick wall of the bar. He cages you in, and you’re trapped, and more than ever before Tommy thinks he sees that demeanor falter. “Just a little bit,” you reply.

“Wanna know somethin’?” He leans his head down, presses a kiss into your hair, and says, “I can take it.”

You take your crimson stained lip between your teeth, biting so hard the matte color smudges the smallest bit. Tommy knows he’s getting to you, he can see it. But you still resist him and say with a shake of your head, “Break’s over.”

He lingers at the bar until close and asks one more time as he walks you to your car if you’ll go out with him. Still, you say no again and as he’s laying in bed that night, Tommy Miller decides to cut his losses. He still wants you — Christ he wants you, but he’s not willing to beg anymore. He’d done all he could do, and he doesn’t want to make your workday miserable. He doesn’t want to be one of those guys.

Still, when he comes back for a drink with Joel after work on Tuesday, he can’t hide his disappointment when he sees Frank standing behind the counter. They talk about you, though, when Joel tells Frank that Tommy ‘has it real bad for that scary chick.’

They go to a different bar that weekend instead of their usual. Tommy still has fun though, and chats up a pretty blonde girl who’s real nice to him. He doesn’t have to beg her on her knees, and it’s a nice change of pace. She even kisses him and moans into his mouth when he grabs a handful of her ass.

Except she’s got glossy pink lips, and her legs are bare beneath her white, pleated skirt, and Tommy wants the feel of fishnets in his hands. He wants the softness of your body, wants the warmth and the curves and the fucking chase. He wants to work for it.

She offers, but Tommy doesn’t go home with her. Instead, he sleeps alone in his bed. And the next night after work, he goes to see his very favorite bartender.

He walks in alone—Joel’s at home, helping Sarah with some art project—and it’s still early in the evening, but the bar is packed full of people. Tommy catches a glimpse of those fishnets that haunt his every thought, and watches you bend over to pick up straw wrappers from one of the booths. His usual seat at the bar is taken by some college kid, so Tommy sits at the very end.

Immediately, he can tell your nerves are shot. It must be overwhelming, he thinks, to be the only person working on a night like tonight. So when you walk past him, smelling of poisoned cherries, he snakes a hand out and wraps his fingers delicately around your wrist. You startle at first, but your whole body deflates when you see him. “Oh, thank God,” you say. “Come help me.”

Tommy doesn’t hesitate. He stands to his feet and lets you tug him back to a room with a padlock on it. While your fidgety fingers work in the code, he asks, “What’s the occasion?”

“Beginning of summer break,” you answer with a sigh. “And word got out about our new buy one get one deal on specialty drinks. It’s been busy all day.” The lock clicks and the door swings open. You flip the light switch and point to one of the three kegs beneath the shelves of sealed liquor bottles. “I can’t lift it,” you say. “And the one out there is empty.”

With a curt nod, he lifts the keg easily — it’s not any heavier than the steel beams he’s been carrying around at work. But he still sees the way your shoulders sag in relief, and tries his damndest to keep his eyes away from your low cut top. It’s a failed attempt, but Tommy thinks it’s gotta count for something. “Where d’you want it?”

The corners of your mouth turn up just slightly, and he can hear the innuendo on the tip of your tongue, but you never say it out loud. You just tilt your head, and Tommy follows you behind the bar to help you replace the empty keg. When he lifts up the partition to let himself through, you stop him with a hand around his bicep. “You’re staying a while, aren’t you?”

It hadn’t been the plan, truthfully. Tommy had just wanted one of those perfect Old Fashioned’s and to resign himself for the night. But your eyes are wide, and your dyed hair is pulled into a disheveled pointy tail, and the fishnets underneath your shorts have sequins on them, and you’re just too goddamn pretty. So he touches the tip of your nose and says, “Anything for you, vampire girl.”

Your answering smile is worth sitting in all this chaotic energy, Tommy thinks. It reaches those bright eyes made up with all that black and silver eyeshadow. “I’ll buy your drinks,” you say. “As payment.”

He nods, even though he pulls up the calculator on his phone to keep track of his drinks tonight and decides to put the cash into the tip jar the moment you’re not looking. Tommy settles into his stool and watches you flit around the room, watches you take orders and make fancy drinks and uncap beers. It’s so busy, but you’re juggling it all impeccably and he finds it admirable.

Somehow, even with the mass of people, you never fail to place another drink in front of him the moment he finishes one. You thank him way too many times, explain that having him here just in case is comforting, and Tommy’s glad to hear it. He keeps his comments and those dirty thoughts to himself, even though they push behind his teeth, sitting on the tip of his tongue. He and his whiskey and orange peel are perfectly content to sit in the corner and eye fuck the bartender, thank you very much.

He has to replace the keg one more time, it’s that busy, but he doesn’t mind it at all. Especially when you bend over to pick up a case of some hoppy IPA before he can grab the keg. There’s next to no room in the closet, and your ass is less than a hand’s width away from his jeans, and he has to close his fucking eyes. He wants to ogle you, goddamn does he want to—but Tommy Miller knows himself. Knows that if he starts looking, he’ll want to touch, and if he starts touching, he’ll want to fuck.

So he clenches his eyes shut tight and follows your orders. The night dies down slowly, and when you make the last call and start taking dishes to the back room, Tommy wipes the peanut shell dust from his fingers and holds his hand out to you.

At first, you stare at it, confused. And then when he points to the white rag in your hands you shake your head and say, “No. That’s like, illegal, isn’t it? Working for free?”

“It’s hardly free, darlin’. Give it here.” He reaches for it again and nearly loses his train of thought when you bite your bottom lip in contemplation.

But then you nod, and hand him the cotton towel, and watch him for just a moment as he turns and starts wiping down the empty tables. He creates a pile of watered down, half empty glasses on the bar, saving you an extra trip, and turns the chairs upside down when he’s finished. Everyone slowly filters out, and when you emerge from the back again the bar is empty save for Tommy and all your tables are bussed and clean.

He’s sitting at the bar, finishing his last drink, and your shoulders sag in relief that the night has finally, finally come to a close. He sits in silence as you count out the register and take the extra cash to the back room. When you start counting out your tips, you split it and push half to Tommy. “Here,” you say. “For all your help. I made more than I planned for, anyway.”

“I didn’t earn those,” he says, pushing it back toward you. “Keep it.” And he means it—he truly, truly does. Tommy would like to think he’d do it for just anyone, which is partially true. That southern charm is deeply rooted in him. But you’re…you, and apart from the fact that he wants to fuck your brains out, Tommy Miller also just straight up likes you. You’re funny, and kind hearted when you’re not putting on that mean-girl front. He can tell you’re good. And it makes him feel good, helping when he can.

But despite all that, he’s still Tommy fucking Miller. And he does, very much, want to fuck you. So he crosses his arms across the bar, leans in close and whispers, “You can repay me another way.”

A cute little snort leaves your nose, and you laugh and shake your head, but you don’t reject him. “Oh, yeah? And how’s that?”

“Guess,” he prods.

You narrow your eyes slightly, and Tommy can see the outline of that silver barbell pushing against the inside of your cheek. “A date?”

His mouth pops open in mock astonishment. “Oh, my my! I thought you’d never ask, sweetheart.” You’re laughing, and Tommy’s cheeks hurt from smiling so hard, and he wonders when the last time was when he felt excited about a date. A date with no promise of sex, just a simple, clean date. He takes your hands in his and presses a kiss to each of your knuckles. “Yes, of course I’ll go on a date with you, vampire girl.”

Your giggles die down, and the silence is comfortable but..heavy. He can tell something’s weighing on you, and he wants nothing more than to grant you ease.

“What is it, baby?”

Those pretty eyes of yours flicker down to his hands, calloused and rough and huge around yours. “Seriously,” you finally say. “Thank you for all your help. I don’t know what I would’ve done without it.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “No big deal,” he says. “Really. Should be a crime to not help a pretty girl in need.”

The corners of your lips turn up into a smirk, and he can see that you’re fighting it, but the joy is so plain on your face. You pull your hands from his and say, “Let me grab my bag. You can walk me to my car.”

Tommy nods once. “Yes ma’am.” He waits patiently for you to grab your things, and after you guys leave and you lock the door he tosses his arm around your shoulders. “You don’t work on Tuesday’s or somethin’?”

You stop in front of your car—black, and shiny, and he can see through the windshield that you have a glittering bat-shaped air freshener hung around the mirror. “You stalking me now, casanova?”

He shakes his head. “No. Just missed you is all,” he confesses. And it’s the truth, the god damn truth, and it’s so fucking weird for him to miss a girl he barely knows but here he is doing it anyway. It makes no sense that he’s had more fun watching you work than he did kissing that blonde girl last weekend. Tommy takes his arm from around your shoulder and gently takes your chin between his fingers instead, forcing you to look up at him. He notices the way your breath hitches, the way your pretty eyes are swallowed up by something dark. “That a crime?”

It’s a stark contrast, how different you look right now. All innocent and starry eyed and not at all mean. You look sweet, Tommy thinks. And he wonders if you taste that way, too. His mouth waters at the thought, and he runs his tongue along his teeth. “No,” you breathe, gaze following the movement. “N-no, just…”

“Just what? Hm?”

Your cheeks burn, and Tommy loves the pinkness against your skin, and he knows you have nothing to say. He knows you’re getting nervous. Eventually you exhale and say, “I don’t…know.”

Tommy likes that he makes you nervous. He likes you like this, all trembling fingers and honeyed eyes and sugary lips. But even more than that, he likes it when you look up at him through your lashes and softly, so fucking softly it’s barely audible, say, “You can kiss me if you want.”

He doesn’t waste a fucking second. He goes easy, at first. He presses his lips to yours firmly and discovers he’s right in his assumption of your saccharine. You taste a little like cherries and a little like moonlight and a little more like home. It reminds him of hot Texas nights under the stars, and being a little too drunk, and he kisses you deeper. Allows his tongue to swipe over your bottom lip, and you reward him with the sexiest little sound.

Your lips part for him, and Tommy is nothing if not a man starved for you, and so he drinks you in. That metal in your mouth feels even better against his tongue than he’d ever imagined. You’re so soft and his hands are on your hips and he can’t stop himself from squeezing the supple flesh, from pulling you closer, from pulling back for a wretched breath of air. “Goddamn, baby,” he grumbles, grinning from ear to ear, and then your mouth is on his neck, and his morals are somewhere on the floor.

Because he wants to do this right. For once in his life, Tommy Miller wants to take a girl out. He wants to do it real classy, too—wants to get to know you, wants to take you out to a nice dinner and tell you how beautiful you look in your fishnets, wants to take you to some uppity museum in San Antonio and show you fancy paintings and that gothic cathedral that made your eyes glitter when he mentioned it.

But your mouth is so hot, and your hands are tangled in the curls at the nape of his neck, clawing at him for reprieve. His heart is beating so fast. He swears it almost stops when the words tumble out of his mouth because he really, really does not want to ruin this. He sounds desperate because he is. “Can I touch you?”

“You are touching me,” you quip. He can feel you smile against his neck, and Tommy’s head falls back in frustration. You know that’s not what he means, but you don’t say no, and so he decides to show you.

Tommy hooks his arms around your thighs, grinning at the little gasp you make, the way you cling to him with all your might. He lays you back against the hood of your car and wraps his hand around your neck, and kisses you like he’ll never get another chance to.

And this time, you let out more than a whine. You’re moaning into his mouth, breathing fast, wrapping your legs around his waist, and pulling him in. It takes him by surprise, and Tommy laughs softly.

“Eager little thing, aren’t you?”

“No,” you immediately say, defiant. “I just know what I want.”

His heart hammers behind his ribcage. He wants to keep hearing your voice, wants to ingrain the sound of it into his skin like a tattoo. “Tell me, baby.”

The low flickering of street lights illuminates your face just enough for him to see the deep, dark flush of your cheeks. So dark it nearly matches that crimson color on your lips.

When he realizes what’s happening, Tommy shakes his head. “Nah,” he says. “Don’t go all shy on me now, vampire girl. After all that talk?” He clicks his tongue and leans in close. His breath is warm against the shell of your ear. “Now, I know you can use the word no. I know you’re real good at it, too. You gonna say it now, baby?”

Despite the way his cock throbs in his jeans, pressed against your thigh, Tommy hopes you know he’s not one of those guys. He won’t do anything you don’t want him to do. He won’t even make you feel guilty for saying no, if that’s what you choose.

And when you open your mouth to speak, he half expects some smart remark to come out. Something like in your dreams or you wish. But your words are breathy and your siren eyes are wide as you whisper, “Touch me.”

His fingers curl around your neck—not squeezing, though. Tommy’s real gentle with you. “I am touching you,” he parrots.

And then you fucking beg. Literally, beg, and Tommy Miller feels like a teenage boy about to cum in his fucking pants at nothing but the word, “Please,” in your mouth.

He inhales a shaky breath, willing himself to calm the fuck down. This isn’t about him, he thinks. This is about you. It’s about showing you just how much he likes you, about proving himself a man worthy enough to touch you. And Tommy’s not sure if he is, not yet anyway, but he knows he can make you feel good.

The metal of your silver necklaces are cool against his palm. He moves his hand down your sternum slowly, over the curve of your breast, and stops just below the end of your cropped shirt. It’s black, of course, and modified—cut to shreds, really, only covering the most intimate parts of you. The fabric is soft and billowy and a size too large. He’s thankful for the extra room, though, because it makes it a little too easy to slip his hand beneath the curled edge and shove it over your breasts.

Your bra is black too, made of silky lace. Tommy takes one of your breasts in his hand, and it spills out between his fingers, and he silently confesses to himself that, yeah—he’s definitely not an ass man anymore. He leans down and presses a wet, open mouthed kiss to the flesh, and he can feel your nipple harden through the sheer lace. He hooks his thumbs beneath the band around your ribcage and pushes that up too, to join your top.

And bared to him, you’re even more beautiful than he imagined. And he tells you as much. “Such a pretty little thing,” he murmurs against your skin. Tommy holds both of your tits in his hands now, and slides his thumb over one nipple while he surges forward and takes the other into his mouth.

A shudder leaves you, and your hands fist themselves in his hair. He can feel your heartbeat against his fingertips, pace picking up when he swirls his tongue around the hardened peak. And when he bites down gently, you let out a gasp and push your hips up against his.

You don’t utter a word, but Tommy thinks suddenly he has you all figured out.

He kisses a trail to your other breast, spreading his spit lingering on the first with the pad of his thumb. He’s rougher this time, sucking harder, scraping his teeth against the sensitive skin.

“Oh, God,” you moan, fingernails scratching at his scalp. “You’re so…”

The words go unfinished, because he presses a hand to the seam of your shorts and all the breath seems to leave your lungs. All the thoughts seem to leave your brain, even—and Tommy thinks you look real fucking cute right now. “So what, baby? Hm?”

You’re shivering, wiggling your hips to generate some kind of friction, but Tommy doesn’t give it.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Use those words of yours. I know you can.”

“Surprising,” you admit. But he takes it as a good kind of surprise because you're pretty putty in his hands.

Tommy undoes the button of your denim shorts. He hooks one arm around your hips and jerks you down the hood of your car. “This what you want, pretty girl? Don’t want me to ask for it. You want me to take it. S’that it?”

You don’t answer, but he knows. He knows. Tommy unzips your shorts real slow. And he’s a little surprised to see that beneath all that black exterior, you’ve got baby pink panties on. Not crimson, not seductress red—pink. And they’re the sweetest things he’s ever seen. He trails his fingers along the edge and watches you squirm. “Please,” you say, begging again. Begging for him. “Touch me. I need you t-to, right now. Please.”

He slips his hand beneath your shorts, beneath your fishnet stockings and the pink cotton. And what he finds surprises him. “Aw,” he cooes, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. “Guess you really do need me, huh? You’re so wet, baby.” He runs the tip of his middle finger through your slit, exploring you, memorizing, gathering your slick and bringing it upwards. When he circles your clit, he laughs at the way your back arches off the hood of the car.

“Oh, fuck—yes,” you tell him. “Right there.”

Tommy presses harder, begins to move his fingertip faster. “Here, baby?”

You’re nodding, eyes squeezed shut. “Yes, fuck, yes yes—mmh.”

He closes his mouth around your nipple again, using his free hand to keep your legs spread as far apart as possible. When he snakes his finger down and presses it into your sweet pussy, it takes a significant amount of strength to keep your legs open. You fight him, and your moans echo in the empty parking lot. Tommy is only vaguely aware of the passing cars on the freeway, and finds himself thankful you parked in the back of the open space. “Feels good, hm?”

“So fucking—mm—so fucking good,” you say. The praise is enough to convince him to slide another finger in, and it’s met with a pretty moan of approval.

His cock has never been this hard, Tommy thinks. It’s pressed against your thigh still, and every one of your little movements makes it worse. It makes him near delirious. He wants to bury himself inside of you but knows to save it for later. When he knows more about you, when he knows what it looks like when you cum. He’s got his fingers hooked upwards, caressing that sweet, soft spot, and his pace is unforgiving. He wishes your shorts weren’t in the way, but he does what he can with the clearance you’ve granted him. “Dirty little thing,” he says. “Wanna be touched so bad you spread your legs out in the open.”

Your nails are sharp, leaving indentations at the back of his neck. It only spurs him on more, that little bit of agony. “Don’t stop,” you tell him. “Don’t stop, please—yes—oh God.”

Tommy presses his thumb against your clit, sliding it through your dripping pussy with each rough thrust of his fingers. He can feel you squeezing around them, sucking him in even deeper. “There you go, baby,” he says, pressing a gentle kiss to your jaw. “You gonna cum for me? Hm? Pussy’s so fuckin’ wet.”

When your legs start to tremble, Tommy keeps his pace steady. He wants to tip you over that edge, wants to see the way you look when he makes you feel this fucking good. He leans back, breath coming fast, and admires how absolutely fucked out your look. Mouth hanging open, moaning his name, brows knitted together in concentration. Your hands bury themselves in his flannel, desperate for a tether to keep you grounded. Tommy grins, hand on your thigh leaving to instead wrap around your neck.

“Such a pretty girl,” he says through his smile. “You look so good when you fuckin’ behave, sweetheart.”

Your back arches off the hood of the car and your knuckles turn white in his shirt. “Oh, fuck—I’m gonna—”

“I know, I know. Cum for me, baby. Cum all over my fingers—yeah, just like that.” Wetness flood between your legs, filling his palm, and it’s so fucking hot that Tommy moans in response. “Yeah, there you go,” he says, cock throbbing in his jeans. “Good girl, such a good fuckin girl, baby.”

It’s even better than he imagined; you look ethereal. He traces the arch of your body with his hand around your neck, moving it down the slope between your breasts, between your ribs, down to your hips. You fit so perfectly in his hands he starts to wonder if you were tailor-made for them.

When your fingers loosen and fall away from his flannel and your breaths begin to slow, only then does he slip his fingers out of you. He caresses your pusy in his hand, chuckling darkly when he slides over your clit and you let out a sharp gasp, thighs clamping closed around his hips at the sensitivity. When he finally pulls his hand from your denim shorts, his fingers come away glossy and covered in your slick.

Tommy locks eyes with you, raises his hand to his mouth and moans as the heady taste blossoms across his tongue. “Mmm. Better than bourbon,” he says through a low laugh. He licks his fingers clean, and you watch with rapt attention.

He takes a step back, adjusts himself, and holds his hand out for you to take. You let him pull you upwards, off the hood of the car, and he can feel your siren eyes on him as he pulls your bra and t-shirt back into place and buttons your jeans. Your legs are still shaking the smallest bit, and it feels like a victory. “Uhm…thanks. Again,” you say.

A smirk tugs at his mouth. “Turn around,” he orders. He’s a little surprised with how quickly you obey, as if any defiance that once existed within you had been snuffed out the moment he existed within you. Tommy watches your shoulders shake with anticipation, but all he does is pull your cell phone from your back pocket.

He calls himself, saves your phone number under 🦇🖤Vampire Girl🖤🦇, and tucks the device back into your pocket.

“Tuesday at ten,” he says, gathering your hair in one hand and laying it over your shoulder. He leans down, lips less than an inch from your throat. “Let me know where to pick you up.”

You nod softly. “Uhm, I—uh…yeah. Yeah, okay. I’ll see you Tuesday.”

Tommy kisses your jaw and leaves without another word, feeling like a goddamn king.

[PART TWO]

[masterlist]

#ao3 fanfic #pearlessance #ao3 writer #joel tlou #tommy tlou #tommy miller #tommy miller x you #the last of us hbo #tlou fanfiction #tommy miller smut #smut #x reader #reader insert #bd/sm switch

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weasleyreidstyles · 4 months

Text

Serendipity

chapter eighteen

summary: it was only meant to be a purely transactional relationship. he would help her strengthen her abilities in return for her getting his friends out of his father's nasty path. he didn't mean to fall for her, but loving her was the easiest thing in his dark world.

no use of y/n, but your general nickname is Meadow. all characters are aged up to be over 18.

pairings: mattheo riddle x fem!ravenclaw reader; platonic!slytherins x fem!reader; platonic!golden trio x fem!reader

warning(s): angst, very little fluff (its there but barely!), canonical death, canonical violence, nightmare trope!, mentions of anxiety and allusion to a panic attack

series masterlist; previous part; next part

"Sirius had a brother-" you whisper, your voice betraying your sadness at the thought of the eccentric man.

"Yes. His name was Regulus Black."

"Regulus Black?" Enzo mumbles to himself, as if he was testing the name on his tongue.

"He was Slytherin's star seeker in the seventies." Blaise said in barely restrained awe. "People said that he was an enigma. Always quiet and observing."

"That is a bona fide assessment of my cousin." Andromeda's low voice sounded from the doorway, the head of her husband visible in the room behind where she stood. "He was always calculating something in that brilliant brain of his."

The smile on her face is as reminiscent as it is stricken with grief. Remus turns to her with the same look simmering in his chocolate irises.

"I don't understand." Pansy says quietly. "My father always said that he was enthusiastic about being a Death Eater. Him and his friends. That Voldemort trusted him implicitly. And you're saying he was spy the whole time?"

"That was the whole point of his undercover work." Remus mused with a grim look. "He was so trusted by Voldemort that he didn't even suspect that Regulus might be the one threatening to unravel all of his intricate work."

"If you knew of the horcruxes during the first war, why isn't it a widely known thing now?" Mattheo's deep rasp travels through you like silky butter, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Because we didn't implicitly know what Regulus was searching for. Not until Dumbledore told us of what he and Harry discovered in light of what happened when you," He looked pointedly in your direction, "reacted the way you did to the dark magic swimming in Miss Bell's veins. Every time Regulus would try, his Mark burned. None of us knew just how detrimental his searching was."

"But he succeeded, didn't he? If he found the one you say was a fake." Enzo asked your old professor, eyes alight with curiosity.

"There's more than one." Mattheo says, surprising you all, except Andromeda, who looks as if this information too wasn't new. "Several actually. There was my father's old diary, the ring, this locket-"

He pauses, head swimming with thoughts of the many possibilities.

"Nagini was always whispering about it in the years she'd turn up at Theo's home to torment me. But she always spoke in riddles. There could be more, there probably is more but I don't know what they could be. Something significant to my father, though."

"But how do they work?" Pansy asks, looking between Mattheo and the adults.

"He murdered innocent people to split his soul." Mattheo says resentfully. And though his face is expressionless, you read his shame as if it was there, clear as day.

"So that's how he survived? He severed his soul and tethered himself to the Earth?" Theo's head was slightly tilted to the side, eyes alight with curiosity.

The thought alone sends a wave of colossal dread through you all.

"We believe so, yes. But knowing just how many there are will be crucial if we are to win this war." Andromeda said quietly, before her husband entered the room with a bright smile, despite the stale tension that permeated the air of the tiny kitchen.

"Ready to go, love?" He questions his wife, voice laden with a love that hadn't faded in the years that you'd known the couple through your parents.

"Yes, dear." She mumbles, her hard exterior crumbling from her face for only a split second before the mask has slipped back into place. Ted kisses his wife on the cheek before gently moving her out of the way of the door frame where he comes to being you into a brief hug. One that you fall into without hesitation.

"Will you be alright out here on your own?" He asks you quietly and you nod your head, which is nestled on his shoulder.

"I'll be fine, Ted. Don't worry about me." Please be safe! Your mind is screaming the notion into existence.

Ted is in far more danger than you will ever be; not only was he a muggleborn, but Andromeda had a long list of estranged family members who would not bat an eyelid if Ted Tonks suddenly disappeared. In fact, they'd probably rejoice over his death, before making a martyr out of Andromeda.

He smiles at you in understanding, as if he knows what you don't voice out loud, before he turns you around so that you're both looking out of one of the kitchen windows.

"Just down that hill, about two miles away is a quaint little village. There's a café that is also a bookshop. I think you'd like it there if it ever gets too crowded here."

"Thank you." You say with a grin and he gives you a friendly squeeze before he makes his way back to his wife, who smiles softly at the two of you.

"I'll visit in a few weeks, to see if everything is still standing." Andromeda says, the ghost of a smirk lining her face as she looks between you and your usually raucous friends. Blaise and Enzo share conspiratorial looks, mischief gleaming in their eyes.

"I'll come back in a week with your first assignment. Give you all a chance to settle in." Remus says, nodding at the three newly anointed Order spies, which sobers the mischief, before he too bids farewell.

With a loud crack, they're gone.

~∞~

The following weeks were certainly odd, to say the least. It was almost like the six of you were on a neverending holiday on some days, spending your days roaming the little muggle village, but then on other days, reality would come crashing down, reminding all of you what was at stake.

It was usually Remus who delivered their assignments; it was always Remus who came once you sent your patronus to Headquarters alerting them of the boys' safe return.

About a month in, he'd arrived with Kingsley Shacklebolt, who had eyed you all with barely restrained mistrust as Remus delivered the brief: find out where Charity Burbage was being held captive and do it quickly and carefully. Luckily there was a meeting scheduled for the end of that week that the boys were expected to attend.

They had left within minutes of briefing them and with a crack, Mattheo, Theo and Enzo had left for Malfoy Manor, leaving you, Blaise and Pansy to occupy yourselves in the meantime.

Hours later, after trying to stomach a lacklustre dinner amidst your shared anxieties, the three of you are huddled together in the living room, chatting quietly about the books you were reading, when the mistakable crack of apparition sounded in the silence of night, then three loud knocks branded the front door.

Blaise took it upon himself to see who it was, and upon seeing their sullen faces, let the three boys in.

Immediately you can tell that something bad has happened.

Enzo doesn't bother greeting the three of you like he normally does as he storms off upstairs to his room; Theo heads straight for the garden door, a pack of cigarettes already in his possession and Mattheo looks positively murderous.

Blaise and Pansy seem to come to an understanding and they go in opposite directions, towards where Theo and Enzo disappeared to, leaving you and Mattheo alone. He doesn't even look like he's present in the moment and your heart aches for him.

"Théo?" You ask, voice barely louder than a whisper. But it knocks him from his stupor as he takes hold of your hand in his, soft against his angry callouses. "Lets go upstairs."

He agrees gruffly, voice low and rough, eyes shining with the onslaught on unshed tears.

Slowly the two of you make your way to the bedroom you share, silence engulfing the two of you, leaving only the sound of your breathing to fill the space. When you enter the room, Mattheo practically collapses onto the bed, body spent from the sheer exhaustion of the evening.

"What happened?" You ask softly, sitting against the headboard and guiding his head into your lap. Mattheo keens into you as you run gentle hands through his unruly hair.

The tears flow shortly after you start and your heart breaks for him.

"She's dead." He says, his voice raspy, catching in his throat. "Professor Burbage is dead."

Your breath hitches in your throat as your eyes fill with tears. Professor Burbage was sunshine personified. She always had a smile on her face despite what the Purebloods said about her affliction to muggle culture. She was beloved by all the muggleborns and the staff; was one of Dumbledore's favourites. And she was a valued member of The Orderof the Pheonix, as an emissary to the muggle authorities. She was a valuable member. Now she was gone.

"H-how did she die?" You whisper hesitantly, for you don't know if the closure of knowing would be worth it.

"My father-" Mattheo shuddered. "He set Nagini on her. He didn't even give her the mercy of a quick death."

Whenever his eyes blink shut, he can see the terror behind the teary eyes of the Professor as she stared between the four boys and Severus Snape while Nagini slithered towards her suspended body. He sees the way her eyes fill with dread as no one comes to her aid. Can see the moment of acceptance as her cries suddenly dull to a staggering silence.

He fears that he won't ever sleep peacefully again. The only saving grace is that you'll never have to witness something like it, if he has his way.

"Gods." You say in disbelief, and you hold onto Mattheo a little tighter at the thought. "We need to tell Remus."

"Not yet." He says and he abruptly sits up from his place.

"Why not? He asked you to find out what happened to her. He needs to know." You argue, but you can already see his stubbornness take effect.

"I said not yet." He retorts with anger painting his features. Your brows furrow in offence. He hadn't spoken to you in such a manner in months.

But you can see how his entire resolve has continued to crumble from the moment he stepped over the threshold. Sp instead of arguing back like you want to, for the sake of getting the information to Remus, you agree and wordlessly huide his head to rest in your lap once again.

"Okay. But as soon as we wake in the morning, I'm going to tell him."

Mattheo mumbles his response into the fabric of your leggings, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of your fingers brushing through his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp.

He falls into a light sleep and you're content to fall asleep sat up with him, as long as he was peaceful.

~∞~

He's back there again.

In the seat at the right hand side of his father. When the three of them had arrived at Malfoy Manor for the meeting, Mattheo could feel an unmistakable shift in the air.

The way his father's face twisted into a sinister smirk made his insides curl in dreaded anticipation.

"My loyal followers!" He says, arms outstretched as he addressed the sea of Death Eaters who were watching their master in rapt attention. "I have a special treat for you all tonight."

The feeling of dread made Mattheo's stomach drop even further. He didn't need to look to see that Theo, Enzo and Draco felt the same sense of foreboding.

Voldemort wanders around the table, stopping behind where Lucius was sat, before he snatches the wizard's wand from the table with a deadly snicker of a laugh. Draco does not look at his father's humiliated expression.

"I have brought you all a little...gift of sorts."

With a flourish of Lucius' wand, and to Mattheo's utter horror, Charity Burbage appears in front of their very eyes, arms and legs bound together with a brutal looking rope and mouth magically gagged shut.

He feels sick.

He barely hears as his father mocks her, telling the Death Eaters that she was encouraging young wizards and witches to mate with Muggles, thus polluting the Wizarding World with more Halfbloods and Muggleborns all while she cannot defend herself or ask those she recognises for help.

All Mattheo can comprend is that Nagini has found her way towards her dangling prey and Charity's magically bound gag has been removed.

"Severus.." her pleading eyes fall on her old old. "Please! Help me!"

Snape's eyes have not moved from a spot on the wall behind her flailing body. They don't move from that spot as Nagini prepares to strike.

Mattheo grips the arm rests of his seat as he stares blankly ahead, the sounds of his Professor's shrieks and painful screams as her flesh is torn apart is all his can hear.

And then her screams turn into a familiar tone; instead of his Professor, it's you who is suspended above the snake. Your horrifying screams permeate every corner of his skull until its all he can hear.

You're begging him to help you, but he cannot move. His limbs are glued to his seat as his father laughs manically at your expense.

His mind won't even grant him to ability to block it out. Your screams are all he can hear until his father finally utters the killing blow.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Your body drops to a heap on the floor. And then, Nagini feasts.

Mattheo wakes with a start, only to be met by your wary face staring down at him. Gods he feels like he can't breathe.

"I know. I know." He hears your reassurance as clear as day, but he can't breathe.

You place one of his clammy feeling hands against your chest, where your heart beats calmly despite the gravity of the situation. He feels the way you exaggerate your breathing, hoping he can follow.

He does so and eventually he calms down enough to wipe the sweat from his hands and his forehead.

"You're okay. Your safe." You're still holding his hand to your chest, thumb stroking over the small scars that litter his knuckles.

"It was you." He mumbles breathlessly, tears falling from his onyx eyes. "You were in her place and I did nothing to save you. I couldn't save you."

Your heart breaks for him.

"Oh love." You whisper, pulling his body into your's and wrapping him into a tight hug. "I'm here and I'm safe. I'm not going anywhere."

"It felt so real." He says into the skin of your neck, his hot breath fanning iver your sensitive skin.

"It wasn't real, Mattheo." You reaffirm, moving so that your hands cradled both sides of his face, your eyes meeting his. "It was only a dream. I'm not going anywhere."

"You promise?" He hated that he sounded so weak...so vulnerable. But he could always be himself around you, could always count on you to make him feel anything but empty and numb.

"I promise you, Mattheo Riddle." you say, your lips tilting up with a slight smile that he mirrors. You press a light kiss to his chapped lips which he reciprocates in earnest.

Your souls ignite as one and it feels as if a weight has simultaneously been placed and lifted on your shoulders all at once.

Remus would be alerted in the next few hours, but for now, Mattheo let you guide him to a lying position where he layed safely in your arms.

He did not dream of your screams for the rest of the night, but it would haunt him for the rest of his life. That he was certain of.

~∞~

this one is so so so short but i've actually taken so long to get this one written up

also from this point theres just a whole lot of angst (just a little prewarning🫡)

taglist:

(striked out users are ones that i couldn't tag)

@camille-1019 @lovelyygirl8 @xluansstuff @babeylover @thejadeazalea @undercover-smutlover @adhxmoony @dreamingofonceuponatime @thepassionatereader @urmomsgayforme5 @aphroditeisamilf @devotedlycrookeddonut @purplegirls-posts @nofacenonamelikekira @foxboyapologist @lafrone @lovely-maryj @nromanovaswife @leeknows-wife @dracygf @wildlyobserving @ravenclawprincess33 @melllinaa @vellicora @lantsovheiress @emiliahoward @stunkbiggu @vcosette @prongsprincessworld @mattiesgirl @rachmmb @x-kermit-x @sun-fiower-seed @cas-planet @certaindreampost @weirdowithnobeardo @mikalovesicecream @benwadsworthsgf @rainy-darling @faeriepigeons @lovely-blackinnon @hiireadstuff @gimalo135 @elsafromcabinsix @moonlightreader649 @blueshome @nopedefe @spencerreidsthings @navs-bhat @agent-tempest @magimtz23 @y0urm0m12 @sbrn0905 @leona-hawthorne @whatsupb18

#serendipity series #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle angst #mattheo riddle x you #harry potter #mattheo riddle #blaise zabini #pansy parkinson #enzo berkshire #angst no comfort

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oftenderweapons · 1 year

Text

In Your Calvin's | JJK

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x reader (nicknamed Candy)

Wordcount: 9.6k

Genre: smut, fluff, pwp, established relationship

Rating: 18+ Minors, do not interact

Synopsis: Being Jeon Jeongguk's girlfriend is a great honour, but it comes with great responsibilities. When the commercial celebrating your boyfriend (very secret boyfriend) starts playing on everyone's and their mother's phones, it's time you face what it means to be loved by the most wanted idol of them all.

Warnings: Jealousy and general possessiveness. Swearing. Powerplay, switch!reader, switch!jk. Masochist!jk (?). Marking (hickey, writing on body with a pen), hair pulling (male receiving), edging (male receiving), spanking (male and female receiving). Teasing. Mild degradation. Dry humping. A very mild boobjob. Breast worship. Unprotected foreplay, oral sex (female receiving; brief male receiving), unprotected sex (be smarter, kids), rough sex. Mentions of cockring.

One last thing: 1. this was edited at 3am, please bear with me. 2. Sidenote: I try to be as neutral as possible with the way I describe the girls' appearance, however I wanted to specify that in this fic, I mention Candy having long, straight hair (and huge badonkers, but that's kinda canon by now LOL). It's just a brief mention, absolutely nothing major and holds no relevance to the fic, you might not even notice it; but still, I wanted to make sure I thought about my curly haired goddesses, and short haired queens, (or a combo of both heart eyes) and that I apologise for making this fic just a pinch less immersive for you. (Is this the right moment to apologise to small boobs princesses too? ily sisters, itty bitty titty committee 5evah)

Here's my masterlist, lemme just disappear very quickly. Enjoy 💜✨

You knew Jeongguk had a gig with Calvin Klein. You've known it for months. You've seen him cut calories and hit the gym and dehydrate for a couple days before the shoot because he explained to you how muscle definition works, and crucial to showing a great slab of abs is being basically as dry as a breadstick, to the point of being cranky because you have drunk three glasses of water in the last forty-eight hours.

Which all means, you knew his stomach would be quite surely showing.

And yet your world still stops once you're merrily sitting on your train back home and his half undressed form appears on the screen on your phone.

At first you slam your phone shut, mostly because you're used to hiding your boyfriend away and that's the reaction you usually have when you open one of his flirty pics from your chat.

Next, you realise you weren't on your private chat, and you weren't even looking at pictures in your phone gallery.

You were absentmindedly scrolling. On Instagram.

You unlock your phone again, and right there you're confronted with the very naked truth.

Jeongguk. Is basically naked. On your phone. And it's for the entire world to see.

Your brain slows down, as if the earth axis is tipping over a little in the opposite way.

Something inside you snaps around the third time the video plays in front of your unseeing eyes. To anyone looking at you, you could be just an obsessed fan taking a close look at the fine piece of art, but your eyes are unfocused, your mind too deep in thought to register any stimulus from the external world.

The vibration from the phone awakens you from your state of trance.

“Candy, baby,” says the adorable lover boy calling you. “Have you seen it already?”

Your lips are sealed, and you can't quite bring yourself to speak, you don't know why.

“I'm on my way back home.” You say, and the words feel like cracking a glow stick in your chest.

“But did you see it?” His voice isn't as bright now.

“I'm coming home.” You repeat.

He's silent for a few seconds, and you can hear him sigh. “Okay.”

“He's so insanely hot,” you overhear a girl sitting across from you comment.

“I want to run my palms down the sides of his waist,” says her friend.

You stare at them and you know you must look like a woman possessed right now, but you still allow yourself to incinerate them with a glare, as if your eyes could turn into flamethrowers.

“Candy?”

“I'll be home in ten.” And you close the call.

On the way back home, you hear more people talk. More girls fawn. More women zoom in.

On the escalator, you notice a woman fanning herself while staring at the screen. Another one even crosses herself as the ad from your boyfriend reruns on her phone screen.

Every step on your way home is utter agony, and once you step over the threshold, you're not sure what you're going to do.

Jeongguk is in the kitchen in a sleeveless top, tattoos out, piercings glowing in the gentle light of the living room. And his hair is fluffy, which means he's probably just done blow drying it after taking a shower.

The fact that the scent of his body lotion is still sharp gives you further indication of how recent that shower must be.

“Hey,” he says, turning towards you with a bunny grin, which immediately dims once he sees your expression. “Oh. Bad day?”

You bite your lip and stare at him a fair bit. Then, a bit more.

“Candy, love.”

You don't know what to do with him. Is he yours? Is he really yours?

How come you come home to him making dinner, and being freshly showered, and being so domestic? How come you're living in his apartment, knowing his pass code, having an ID card for his apartment complex and his studio at HYBE? How come he gives you a copy of his schedule and talks about you over the phone on his weekly call to his grandmother and brings you to his parents' house? How come you go on trips together and you're the emergency contact to his fur babies and you make love two to four times a week? How come he's brought you to the town he grew up in and loved you down in the place where he lost his virginity because, "I wish it had been you since the very first time"?

Who is this man?

Is he Jungkook from Bangtan Sonyeondan? Or is he Jeon Jeongguk, your very own quiet, shy, reserved lover boy?

“You're scaring me,” he whispers, putting down his wooden spoon and taking a few steps to stand in front of you.

“Why me?” you ask, staring at his collarbones, too scared to look into his eyes.

“What do you mean?” he asks back, sheepish.

This time your eyes meet his. “Why me? Of all the women out there, why me?” You look down, taking in just how average you feel, every imperfection magnified in your eyes, now that you have so many people you're comparing yourself with, and competing with.

“Candy—” He starts.

“Everyone, everyone out there is literally foaming at the mouth at that commercial, and I'm here? I come home to you? I make love to you almost every night?” You pause and laugh bitterly at him. “I'm a fucking fraud.”

He shakes his head and moves closer, grabbing your wrists. “A fraud, you say?” He tuts in disappointment, places your hands on his waist. “You're not a fraud, ____, you're my soulmate.” He leaves your hands once he feels them clutch at his narrow waist.

Possessiveness hits you all of a sudden, and it is only mildly ebbed by his hands landing at the top of your ass.

“I love you, and I make love to you because it's a fucking dream. You're a fucking dream, and I'm so upset that you don't see it.”

You're jealous. You're simply jealous. It's human and it's healthy to be moderately jealous. After all the comments you heard and read, it's fair to be jealous.

“I reckon you saw the commercial.”

“I saw the commercial and everyone's reaction to it,” you comment, slightly acidic.

Jeongguk bends to place a kiss below your earlobe. “Are you angry?”

No. Not just anger.

Your hands mimic his and crawl to his lower back, toying with the hemline of his underwear. “I'm not mad.” I'm disgustingly jealous and I don't like them having more of what's mine. They already have too much, they've always wanted too much and you always give it to them and I'm furious that it's not mine alone.

Jeongguk wears a mischievous smile as he makes you take several small steps back, the back of your legs hitting the kitchen counter. “Do you like it?”

You click your tongue and shake your head. “No.”

The reply startles him, and he feels his mood dim. Did he—

“I'm not a jealous person, but this… God, this hits a new level,” you finally admit. “They already drool over you quite enough, and now they even have a video of you shirtless. How would I not be jealous!? Half the girls would have snapped your neck. If Yoongi ever did this, Kitten would have his balls dangling from her Mercedes keychain. I don't even know how Lace and Princess are handling their boyfriends naked on everyone's phone. If I were Tae I would seek political asylum in Greenland. Or maybe Tibet.” You take a large mouthful of oxygen before you launch yourself in another tirade.

“Everyone's talking about grabbing your waist, licking your abs, tugging at your hair and shit and hi! I'm here! I'm the girlfriend! Sorry I exist! WHAT THE FUCK!?”

Jeongguk laughs and lowers himself to your chest, kissing where your heartbeat echoes like a crazed war drum.

“It's not fun!” you complain, significantly agitated.

“Mh.” He hums as he moves aside the hem of your shirt, meeting the soft, smooth skin of your chest. “It was supposed to come out on your birthday, that's why's a bit more racy,” he explains more patiently. “But they decided to release it early.” He kisses a tender spot and your left knee tingles a little. “It was supposed to be a slightly too public boudoir shoot. But secretly it was just yours.” Jeongguk finds the cup of your bra and stares up at you as his fingers reach the hem and slide the fabric aside. “I was thinking of you when I made it.”

And once his mouth wraps around your nipple, your right knee starts tingling too.

“Must admit I had to push the limits a lot to finally make you jealous,” he purrs once he is done with the licking, sucking motion of his mouth around your tender flesh. “But I'm sorry I crossed the line.”

What line? You think, your brain already hazy. No sharp line exists in the world you’re currently in. Just the loving, plush hills of Jeongguk's lips, the slippery slopes of his waistline, the sinuous curves of his hip bones leading you to his pelvis, and the soft curls of his luscious dark locks. No crossed borders, only gentle waves licking the shore, water and land embracing one the other.

“Remind me who's the boss here, Candy,” he says, and you know he's playing you right now. “Remind me where I belong.” His mouth is at your ear as he whispers, “Show me who owns me.”

The tingles are spreading as his fingers grab at your ass, his lips connecting with your jaw. “Talk to me, Candy.”

You’re not sure you can articulate words at this moment. Talking isn’t as easy as everyone makes it seem.

His eyes connect with yours and he can tell you’re staring at his lips by the poetic detail of your lashes lowered over your cheekbone.

It makes him chuckle, very gently, that he has all these details of you he adores, and that you have the audacity of asking him why he picked you, and why he keeps choosing you over and over.

He loves you, his family loves you, his dogs love you. This is the way it’s supposed to be.

His finger reaches underneath your chin, forcing your eyes to actually meet his. “Look at me, sweetheart,” he purrs, and as your lashes dart up, he shakes his head a little, loving the way you arch up a fraction, as if pulled towards him. “There she is, beautiful.”

You feel completely neutralised. Disarmed. All the storms brewing over you a minute ago are forgotten as soon as his sweet smile shines like sunlight above you.

His hand combs your hair back, cupping your cheek and landing a kiss on your temple. “Are you feeling better?”

You nod.

“What mood are we in?” You’ve asked him this question thousands of times since the two of you became serious, ever since he opened up about feeling too closed off to make a relationship work; and now, the fact that it was such a solid, valid ritual in your dynamics made it natural for him to ask too. “You need to talk to me, sweetheart.”

“I’m better. I…”

“Tell me what you want.”

You stare at him, at his shoulders, at his biceps, you trace his tattoo with your fingertip, and he looks closely at your finger, at it drawing swirls and circles on his skin.

“Pick me up,” you say softly.

And he does, immediately. His biceps flex and he grunts a little, not at the weight, but just because he knows the sound can make your toes curl, and he likes that a lot. His hands are wrapped around the back of your thighs, then they adjust to your bottom.

“Next? Counter? Bed? Shower?”

You kiss him. Impatient, and needy, you kiss him.

He opens up for you without hesitation, moaning at the sweet invasion of your tongue in his mouth. God, he loves it. It makes him melt, to feel your tongue slip against his, moving wet and sloppy, your lips plush and hot pressed up against him. He loves kissing you. Actually, he loves making out with you. He’s pretty sure he could come of that alone, and he tries to remind himself you have to give that a try. Another day.

He places you onto the counter because he fears his knees might give out on him. And once he has you there it means his hands can roam all over you and grab your chest and toy with—

“No touching,” you snap at him, gripping his wrists and pulling his hands behind his back.

His eyes go wide at the shift in pace, but he obeys. He also feels like he's awakening from a dream only to find out reality can be so much better.

You dig your hands in his hair and he hisses a little as you tug gently, but still roughly. You think of all the people who wish they could do just so as you stare into his eyes, seeing just how turned on he gets as you manhandle him.

You lean towards him and you notice him trying to kiss you, but you tug at his hair harder, holding him in place as the heat of your exhale fans over his parted lips and his chin.

“You want me to own you?” you ask him, watching his muscles twitch as he fights the urge to grab you and put you in place.

He nods. “Do me all the things no one else can.” He has a roguish smile as he adds, “Do me everything they won't ever, ever do to me.” And he is god of deception when he finally tips you over the edge. “Do me everything I want just from you, and you alone.”

You watch him intently, then tug at his hair so that his head is angled upwards, throat vulnerable and exposed.

He's staring at you with a mischievous glint in his expression, a walking temptation, and you can almost hear him say it, 'come on, do it'. And you do it.

You bend forward and sink your teeth in his flesh, the tender skin caving in as your bite marks him softly before your cheeks move into a suctioning motion that you know will turn into a bruise. It just pleases you so.

“Take a step back,” you order as soon as you're happy with the hickey. “Take off your shirt.”

And he winks before he does. You watch the plain of his chest, the valley in between his pectorals leading you down to his navel.

“I hope you're wearing your Calvin's,” you tease with a cocked eyebrow.

He smirks. “Always in my Calvin's.”

You snicker and shake your head. “Take off your pants.”

His forehead scrunches up in surprise, but he eventually obeys.

He's standing in a pair of socks and his white boxer briefs. At least he didn't lie, they are Calvin Klein.

“Do you want—”

“The Calvin's stay on,” you sentence, then you descend from the counter. “Head over to the bedroom. I'll come over in a minute.”

He stares at you, flabbergasted.

“Oh, and I almost forgot: don't touch yourself. Settle down, hands on the headboard and wait pretty.”

He blinks, unsure of where this is going to end or where it came from, but so blazingly grateful for it.

“Okay.”

You give him a quick once-over as you stand in front of each other. His abs are toned and defined, but now less alarmingly than the days before the shoot. His thighs are strong and you love how the material from the boxers wraps around them comfortably and smoothly.

You dare stare at his crotch, at the way the fabric traces the curve of his length, so perfectly long and so perfectly thick.

You allow your fingertips to trace the curve of his spine, so lightly that it causes him to close his eyes, his head inched to the side as he shivers in pleasure.

“Can I be rough with you?” you ask him, your hand reaching the small of his back and cupping the curve of his ass.

He moves his hands on you the exact same way you did. “Maybe I like pain,” he suggests, and from the collection of tattoos and piercings, but mostly from the supercut of memories of him getting bitten, spanked and scratched by you, you’re reminded that you’re not dealing with the edited version of him he has promoted publicly.

This is your boyfriend. Jeongguk. Your Jeongguk.

You sink your nails into the flesh of his ass, and he hisses but smiles, pulling you closer, swaying his hips to tease your crotch with his. “Go get ready, babyboy,” you croon.

He hums invitingly and kisses your neck, trying to get you to move with him, but you’ve made up your mind already.

“Go,” you repeat.

He pouts and grabs your hips. “Come on, what are you trying to do?” he asks, his brow furrowed, his eyes dark and wide and imploring for you to just follow him and spare him whatever cruel surprise you want to use against him.

You grab his wrists, making him unclasp his hands. “Go and you’ll find out.”

He hesitates and then he faces away, still reluctant, turning around a couple times on his way, checking if you’re following him — perhaps, maybe, hopefully…

Yet, you don’t move, not until he turns the corner to the bedroom. And then you make your way over, slow, unbothered.

And you close the door on him.

You head to the bathroom, wash up quickly, and equally quickly you cover yourself in his favourite lotion, taking special care of your neck and chest. Once properly buttered up and covered in nothing but pretty Calvin undies and his favourite Calvin jeans jacket, you’re ready to attack. But you stare at yourself in the mirror, and you feel like there’s still something you could do to give him a heart attack…

Oh, that, you think. And you get to work.

Apparently he has behaved, as you find him lounging in bed, with his boxers still on, his hands laced behind the crown of his head, a fine slab of abs in full glow from the dark amber hue coming from his led lights.

“Are we on a sunset gold kinda vibe— Holy shit.” He didn’t manage to sound as cool and aloof as he’d tried to be once his eyes landed on you.

He wished he could take a picture of you and spread it across town, just so he could stare at it while waiting for a bus, or hanging out at Hongdae with his friends, and excitedly point at it while tipsy to holler “that’s my fucking girlfriend, that fine piece of ass fucking owns me”.

He wished he could put you on an album cover and fill it with all the insane stuff you do to his heart and his mind and his body. How his heartbeat does a little hiccup thing when he sees you first thing in the morning, and how he’s spent every wish on fallen eyelashes over you, and making you happy, and building you a house and having fireworks for your wedding night, and having all his fans seeing just how incredibly fantastic you are to him, how you make him so happy and deliriously smitten and barely coherent when it comes to talking about you, and just… He just wants everyone to love you half as much as he does.

And maybe for you to be only ever in love with him, so he doesn’t risk anyone thirsting for you enough to steal you from him.

“What were you saying about golden lights?” you ask, climbing on the bed, your hand modestly holding the lapels of his jeans jacket together — it’s not time to destroy him yet.

“I— I…” He tries to sit up, but you push him back where he belongs with a well-placed hand pressed to the middle of his chest.

“Put on the red lights, love.” You grin devilishly, watching his doe eyes glimmer with wonder and disbelief.

“Have I ever told you I am one lucky motherfucker?” he says, staring at your neck, at your face, at your hand, his palms already moving to your hips as you straddle him.

“I just know it.” You sit on your throne — his lap —, stretch to the end table to grab the remote to switch the lights to red, and once the deal is settled, you let the jacket open. “I mean. I’m the luckiest because I have these, but considering you profit from them… You know…” You let your breasts show.

“I know…” he says, entirely mesmerised. God, he is so easy, you think, watching his eyes scan your chest like a cat playing catch with a laser light. You mix your standard level of charm with a slow grind of your hips, so slow and gentle that it’s straight up teasing, torture at its blandest level.

“You make it so hard to think,” he speaks with a strangled voice, trying to make you move the way he wants, but you grab his hands with the excuse of lacing your fingers with his, only to drag them back by the sides of his head.

“I didn’t know I could turn your brain into mush just like this,” you reply, feeling your folds moisten in an attempt to ease the sliding of your crotch against his length. Too bad both of you are still clad in your underwear and, according to your plans, would stay that way for quite a while, as long as possible. “You’re so whipped.”

“I am,” he purrs, and tries to get away with moving his hands back to your hips, but before he can dig his digits in the soft of your flesh, you tut.

“You’d better not touch that ass, Jeon. Keep your hands to yourself if you want my hands on you,” you threaten. “Just to remind you who’s in charge, sweetheart.”

His eyes go wide and he moves his palms back behind his head as soon as you finish your remark. “Yes, miss.”

“Good boy,” you praise him, and you visibly notice him holding back from smiling at the praise. “Did you see my little mark?” you ask. “Call it a slog

an of sorts. A vision statement.” You shrug and push back the lapels, hoping for the lights not being too low for him to see.

It has taken a while for your handy work to happen, mostly because it can be absurdly tricky writing in reverse, but thankfully you’re quite prone to graphic arts.

Jeongguk rises a little, getting closer to where he can recognise dark scribbles on your chest. Unusual dark scribbles.

“Is that… Tattooed?” he asks, and his eyes go wide as he meets your face.

You cackle at him, leaning over and licking his lips, sucking his lower one, then travelling along his jaw, nibbling at his earlobe in a way that makes his hips jolt against you, buckling. “I can't have that tattooed, can I? Unless the world knows and it gets a little too permanent.”

He frowns, not at the way he loses contact with your warm crotch, but because of the unwelcome realisation of what it means to not belong to you entirely. “I'm so sorry,” he sighs, trying to hold you, but stopping his hands before he can touch you.

He goes back to his assigned position and begs you with his eyes.

“Oh, no. Don't worry, it's okay.” To keep him distracted, you get back to a soft roll of your pelvis against his, and he seems to oppose, but it only lasts for maybe five seconds.

His wound-up exhale convinces you to reward him further, lowering your chest so that it drags against his as you keep grinding on him.

“Jeongguk, baby,” you murmur fondly.

“So unfair… That I don’t get you like a girlfriend like anyone else…” He speaks, his focus spotty and frail.

“What do you mean, love?” you egg him on.

“All the public stuff… All the PDA and the grand gestures. The stuff that makes it official, you know.” His eyes are glassy and fleeting as he speaks, and it really feels as if speaking were like making a necklace except he can’t quite line up the beads the right way and he can’t manage to get the string inside the hole and it takes a very long time for the words to finally turn into meaning and it’s all so frustrating.

“I don’t care,” you reassure him, and this time you’re not unaffected either, the sentence stumbling out of you before you can even fully register the meaning you were trying to convey. “Can you read the tattoo, Guk?”

His eyelids lift through great effort, and in slow motion. You stop moving to help him focus on the writing, and he grunts at the interruption. He does not like that at all, and having you so close, so soft, so hot and wet for him is making his instinct vibrate with need to be inside you, move inside you, and then finally find his release in the welcoming darkness of your womb.

“I—” He’s really trying so hard, god bless his heart, but he’s so unfocused and his vision is blurry and he needs to blink for a bunch of seconds before he manages to spell the message, and then compute it, and then smirk wildly before he bucks his hips up against you, letting you know that you’d better move on him.

“What is it, Jeongguk? Mind sharing with the class?” you bait him with a cheshire grin.

“Not sharing any of this,” he growls, and you can feel his arms jolt at the urgency to wrap around you, press you to his front and shove you underneath him, so that he can finally move as hard and as fast as he knows the both of you need.

“Oh, don’t be a greedy little boy! Don’t you want to test how it feels to say it?” you tease him further, ready to push him to his breaking point. After all, that is what you’re always trying to do, get as far as it needs to make him go wild on you, barely coherent and entirely animalistic.

“You want me to say it, don’t you?” he provokes you, feeling just how much the humiliation will further send you soaring over him.

“I do,” you admit.

He bites his lip and you look at him, you study the shape of his lips, the glint in his eyes, the dark shimmering of his lovely ebony locks, and the way his chest heaves with effort and arousal. “These tits own Jeon Jeongguk,” he speaks, his gaze piercing yours, holding you accountable for the undoing he knows will follow.

“That’s right, isn’t it?” Your smile is sardonic, evilly pleased with his admission of submission, with him confirming, with conviction, that he is indeed entirely enslaved to his fascination for your chest, that he is so deeply enticed by it that just a silly part of you can guarantee you his unflinching devotion.

“You know it’s right,” he grunts as your movements resume. And at this point, he knows this is going to take a while, and it will most surely turn out vicious.

“Just checking in on you, making sure you haven’t found a better pair—”

“Don’t you dare talk to them like this. Not in front of me,” he hisses with a passion, and you chuckle at how chivalrously he defends your breasts from your own ill assumptions.

“That’s so gallant of you,” you reply, your hands pulling his hair back, your tone fond and just vaguely lined with mocking. “Let them repay you for your kindness,” you suggest, as you start crawling down his body, your breasts landing heavily on his lap.

“Really…?” he asks, first distracted and then extremely alert as he connects the dots. “With my boxers on?” He says with a frown.

You shrug and smirk. “Maybe we’ll get rid of them later…” You sprinkle some kisses on his abdomen, your chest dragging against his sensitive parts.

He frowns at the weight of them, so welcome, and yet deceiving as the fabric is hindering him from fully enjoying the act. “Please, off,” he huffs, tutting and fussing a little, but you decide to reward his patience with your nails tracing patterns against his chest, your fingertips drawing his areolae, your eyes hungry on his lost, bewildered state.

“Not yet, love… Be patient with me,” you reassure him, tracing the rift in between the crests of his hips, one side, then the others, ricocheting between the bones on the two sides. “I’m going to make it so good to you,” you promise him, placing kisses all around the underrated perfection of his belly button — a huge ‘fuck you’ to the people salivating over him and never, ever knowing how such a minuscule inch of his body has you so irreversibly whipped.

“Candy… Mh, love—” His voice has grown unbearably raspy and airy, so light it feels almost incorporeal, if it weren’t for the velvet smoothness of his skin underneath your lips, like marble that has finally received the breath of life, your boy an ineffable Galatea.

“If you knew, Guk, if only—” kiss— “you knew—” kiss— “how sexy, and erotic, and exciting and poetic you look right now, baby. You look like art.”

“Lemme touch you, I need you, I need—” he gasps and you’re almost expecting him to release a groan before he comes, way too early, much earlier than planned. But fortunately he doesn’t, he holds back stoically and cants his hips away. “For fuck’s sake,” he whispers, an arm covering his eyes. “I need a second if you need me to hold back.”

“Oh,” you reply in surprise, lifting yourself off him. “Are you alright?”

“Just give me some quiet for a second, Candy, don’t you dare even speak.” Jeongguk’s chest is rising and falling in wide movements, enticing and captivating.

Finally he removes his arm from his eyes, but he barely makes eye contact.

“Guk?” You ask, worried.

“Just— I’m trying to keep it cool here, love.” He wiggles his body a little, trying to get his boxers to fit a bit less tightly around him. “We should be smarter about this, you know?” His hands clench as he stops himself from reaching for you. “We should get a cockring for next time.”

You ogle him, then smile excitedly. “Really?” you chirp.

“Totally,” he concedes. He smiles even bigger at your smile. “Don’t tell me you bought one already.”

“Uhm… No,” you admit with a pout.

“Dammit. It would have been weird, but I wouldn’t even have complained about it since it would pretty much save my ass right now.” He licks his lips, stares at you some more, and he groans and throws his head back at the renewed flare of arousal after he’d just managed to tone it down a notch.

“I’m so sorry, bunny.”

“I’m alright,” he admits, his tone defeated.

“Is this the right moment to suggest I ride your face?” you say, your grin now sardonic, almost drunk on him and the sight of his body shutting down for you, malfunctioning at the mere touch of you.

He stares at you, wide eyed, nodding energetically, like a kid being asked if they want to visit Disneyland. “Guess it took a half naked commercial to get you to finally ask for it like you own it.”

You roll your eyes at him. “Careful or I can keep going with torturing you. I’m liking it anyway.”

“No no no, come over here,” he says with a stern and determined expression on his face, his hands reaching for the back of your thighs. “I’ve been waiting. Get comfy,” he encourages you, and after some manoeuvring you settle on top of him.

He nods to himself, his nose nuzzling against the crotch of your panties, his mouth opening so he can feel your heat with his tongue, trying to get as close as possible.

Unsatisfied, his fingers reach to slip your panties to the side, but you slap at his hand.

“Nope. You wanted the Calvin’s, and we’re keeping the Calvin’s,” you scold him.

He frowns. “No, you were the one wanting them,” he argues. “Keep them on, you said.”

“Whatever.” You arch an eyebrow at him, but you also know he’s right and this decision has come to bite you in the ass. “Imagine how good it will feel once we take them off… And it feels a bit kinky to keep them on. Like… Like we’re having a quickie and everyone out there is waiting for model Jeongguk to come out anytime now, but once he does, well, he looks freshly fucked and everyone can’t stop talking about it— Oh, that!” you moan, your musings interrupted by Jeongguk trying to get bits of you in his mouth.

You’re thankful for the brazilian cut panties giving him plenty of stuff to work with even with the underwear still on.

“Stop me if it’s lewd but, dammit, I love the smell of you.” He drags his face side to side, basking in the damp, salty scent of your arousal. “I don’t even know what it is about it, but I like it so much.”

“Keep doing whatever you’re doing,” you comment, your voice breathy.

“Do you want me to keep talking?” he asks, and you just rub yourself against his chin, his mouth, and his words come out muffled. At some point you think you might have hurt his nose, so you ease the pressure a little, but he grabs handfuls of your butt and keeps you snug to his face, parts his lips wider as if he were really trying to eat you.

He parts from his designed heaven only long enough to announce, “I’m pushing ‘em to the side, fuck it.” And you’re barely coherent, and he’s speaking with that intimate lisp of his, his accent heavy, like he can’t pay too much attention to words anyway.

You don’t oppose.

In seconds, his tongue is tipping inside you, slippery, and so hot, and you moan without even noticing it. Everything is soaked, his chest is covered in perspiration, and so are your thighs.

You dare look down, and his eyes are closed as he is filling all his other senses with the sensation of you.

You bask in the sight of him, one forearm draped against the headboard of the bed, your other hand reaching down, to his fluffy hair currently tickling your inner thigh. You grab it, careful to be right between gentle and aggressive, in that way he finds so pleasant and sexy.

He opens his eyes suddenly, and the moment he finds your eyes already connected with his face, he finds himself more eager to give you just what you need to plunge into oblivion.

He gives you lush, slow licks, from your centre to your most sensitive spot, he takes his time, and moves into more sinuous motions, drawing curve after curve on his way up. He is unrushed, patient, and eloquent. He is luxuriant, explorative, curious.

He loves what he’s doing, and he loves you and he’s showing it, top to bottom, and all the way up again.

“Guk,” you breathe out, and it’s almost a hiccup.

“Yes, I know,” he murmurs against the bend of your inner thigh, right at the fold to your crotch. It’s so private, so sacred. It’s heartbreakingly yours and his and no one else’s. You’re in a shared space where nobody else can tell what you and him know.

“Please,” you manage to say.

He rearranges his arm so he can move two fingers along the seam between your legs, and then they’re inside, and he’s moving them right, rubbing them against the back wall of your entrance.

As you tip your body forward, he moans with his mouth to your clitoris, happy with the new angle, and once you start grinding against him, climbing your way to your climax, he doesn’t stop, he doesn’t go faster, he doesn’t add pressure. He does not change one single thing, and you’re so grateful for the way he has come to understand you, your body, your tells.

“Just right,” you encourage him. “You’re so damn perfect, love— Oh, there.”

That’s the last thing you can remember saying before he sets you off like fireworks. You don’t take much into consideration after that. All is fair, unless he’s holding you back.

You grind, hump, moan, thrash just a little as you get too sensitive and fold in two, your forehead pressed to your wrist on the headboard

as you shake your head ‘no’ but can’t bring yourself to stop from feeling everything he wants you to take.

When you manage to recover, you whisper, “Okay, gimme a second.” And you try to unstraddle his face, but he holds you there, and simply avoids touching your sensitive parts, removing his fingers from inside you.

“Are you alright, Candy?”

You nod and take some large breaths.

He moves your panties back in place, then kisses your mound softly, affectionate, innocent even.

“Can I do anything for you now, love?” He asks with a reverent, caring note in his voice.

You shake your head, still recovering. “Can I lay on top of you?”

“Sure thing,” he says, unlatching from you and leaving some room for you to realign with him, face to face, torso to torso, hip to hip, calf to calf.

He’s still hard as marble, and the gentle grind of your pelvis against his causes him to groan softly.

You press your lips to his to distract him.

The jeans jacket you’re still wearing gives him something to ground himself, his focus aimed entirely at the feeling of the fabric underneath his fingers instead of the humid warmth of your crotch pressed against his.

Just then, you bring your heels underneath your ass, rising to your knees as you swiftly remove your upper garment.

The way his focus moves immediately to your breasts makes you cackle a little, but he doesn’t seem bothered by it.

“Candy, you’ll have to get that tattooed.”

“Nah, too dangerous. They might tell on you.”

He frowns. “You’re right,” he still agrees. Too dangerous. You’re dangerous to him too, and there are not many chances of him keeping some form of dignity if he could at any time see a tattoo calling him out for his undying liaison with your chest.

He catches your wrists, making you lose your balance so that your torso collapses onto his. And he keeps you there, wraps you up in his arms.

“Still jealous, love?” he asks you.

“More than ever,” you admit, and you look into his eyes, recognising the feeling pooling in them.

“I'm only yours,” he swears, kissing the side of your head, whatever he can reach, and it's so tender, so innocent, so magical. “What can I do for you?” he whispers, flirting with you.

You wrap your hands around his forearms and bring them up above his head. “No. I want to do things for you.”

You press your lips to his gingerly, then start to kiss down, tracking his throat and moving further downwards, to his chest, stopping where his heart thumps against the petals of your lips.

“Beats so hard for me,” you comment lightly. “Do I make your heart race, love?”

“You do, Candy,” his reply is strained, as if it hurt to speak at that moment.

“But I—” You let your nails tickle the flat of his waist, the elastic band around his hips— “I also make your dick hard, don't I?”

He moans eloquently, then chuckles at your teasing. “You so do,” he admits, embarrassed but also excited, and so so thankful for having found you.

You grab the waistband of his underwear with your teeth, letting it slap against his skin with a dry snap. “Grab a pen from your bedside, will you?”

You look up just in time to catch his eyes flickering open, his expression coming to life slowly. “What?” he asks, confused.

“A pen, from your drawer,” you repeat.

“Oh.” He had been too unfocused and he hadn’t realised you were talking to him, as if the words were just sound with no meaning; however, now he’s paid attention, so he stretches to the side, exposing the slender twist of his waist to your reverent mouth. You kiss him there, his body contracting as your lips attack his ticklish spot.

“You’re a menace,” he complains, giving you the side eye, but also offering you a boyish, loving smirk.

“And yet, you love me.”

“You’re lucky,” he says, right before you nip at his skin in reprimand. “Okay, I am the lucky one,” he concedes, returning to you with a pen in his hand. “You want this one?” he asks.

You nod and stretch for it, then peck the mole beside his navel and make your way down.

His underwear by now is bitterly persona non grata, still you make yourself okay with it and simply move the elastic down, exposing his hipbone more fully.

“What you gonna do?” he muses, propping himself up and staring at you bent over his pelvis. You look at him and prepare the pen, staring in his eyes as you suck at your bottom lip, torturing it a little as you think.

“Are you gonna mark me? Sign me up?” he asks, a mocking grin on his face.

You move the pen away and loll your tongue out, drawing a thick stripe following the shape of him in his boxers.

He immediately drops his cocky act and arches up, sensitive, holding on barely.

“You think you’re so smart, huh?” you scold him provokingly. “Remember where this is all coming from,” you remind him threateningly.

He gasps as your mouth sucks his tip through the fabric, your nails tracing the indentations of his quads.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “You’ve got me.”

You nod to yourself. “I do,” you say, patronising just in the slightest. And because you can you rise, remove yourself from the way, and pull at his hipbone, trying to flip him around.

He’s alarmed, but he follows your lead. You straddle the back of his thighs, bend down, and move his underwear down, the elastic stuck under the fold of his ass, further emphasising it. It looks plump and delicious, and for a moment you’re caught admiring him.

He’s twisting his neck to try and see what you’re doing, filled with wonder at the way your hair tumbles over, and he’s mesmerised by the shine of it, the softness of the tips, like a brush, whispering at his skin.

You pick the right spot, then settle down, folded over his glute. His skin is hot against your touch and when you finally bring the pen to his flesh, you hope it won’t fail, despite the perspiration and the soft surface.

Shamelessly, you draw the words like an inscription on a stone.

Poetic, and dirty. Just the way you like it. However, you don’t give him the benefit of knowledge.

You lean back, watch your little handywork with a surging of pride and love and confidence. You smack it, just because you can, not hard, not soft either, just sweet enough that it doesn’t feel like a violation doing it without asking his permission first.

His muscles squeeze, and his breath catches.

Because I can, your brain keeps telling you, over and over, like a mantra. You’re allowed to. He’s yours and you’re the only one allowed to.

“You’re getting confident with this,” he comments, and suddenly your eyes are meeting.

He looks like something you would paint. Something you would dream of, and then wake up and sketch down in the middle of the night, caught by some sort of frenzy, some urgency mixed with an impending fear of forgetting, of losing it. Losing him.

“I’m gonna draw you.”

He doesn’t connect the words for a bunch of seconds. Not until you’re standing up and running out of the room and he asks himself, why, why the fuck is she leaving?

“Candy?” he calls, unsure.

He tries to see what in the world you’ve written on his ass, but you’re making your way back in the room, tablet in hand, and your steps are bouncy and your tits follow the movement so his attention is divided.

“What— Where—?” He’s confused.

And then you’re perched on the armchair at the corner of the room, and the light from your tablet reflects on your face, and you look spirited, caught by some urgency he can’t quite find a name for.

“Candy, for the love of—”

“Just a bunch of minutes. A quick sketch, no more.”

He’s been patient. He’s been understanding. He’s let you tease him, and he’s let you touch him, lick him, suck him. He still has your taste all over his face and chin and he still feels the phantom touch of your breasts against his crotch and all he wants is to feel you on him, around him, against him.

“Please,” he whines.

“Just a minute.”

He swells. Frowns. Thrusts his hips against the mattress.

“Almost—” you say, drawing a couple more lines.

You’re in his arms next. “Put that down, Candy.” His face is right above yours and he’s carrying you bridal style. “Put it down,” he repeats.

You're very still. He's looking at your quick sketch, at the way it was all a rough frame and some basic lines. “You're gonna post that? Share it as some fanart instead of a live portrait?” He throws you on the bed and you clutch your tablet harder, trying to save it from any damage. He's on top of you next, grabbing the device and moving it to his drawer before he returns upon you, blocking your wrists above your head.

“Are you maybe going to draw it faceless, so you can sell it as a picture, to decorate somebody's house?” He bends to your ear and nips at the side of your neck. “Let my ass hang naked on someone else's wall?”

You feel overwhelmed and surprised by his counterattack, not really knowing how to react.

He drags his body against yours, stealing a whimper from your lips. “I think you enjoyed topping a little too much tonight.” He flips you onto your front next, and you find yourself only mildly embarrassed that he's made only one tenth of the effort it had taken you to flip him.

He slaps your ass, and it is nowhere as playful or light as the spank you'd given him. It is his turn to grab the pen.

“Let's see if you can walk the talk, Candy. If you like the taste of your own medicine,” he muses, and he bites your ass cheek, bending over to start writing, but accidentally finding himself unable to resist the urge to sink his teeth in your plush flesh.

“Since I'm not a selfish asshole, I'm gonna tell you what I'm writing. Here we go, 'This ass likes spankings from Jeon Jeongguk'. What do you say? Is it true?”

You're panting, wiggling in his hold, trying anything to see the possessed look on his face. “It's true,” you admit, breathless.

He smirks and lands one more hit on your ass. “Damn right it is,” he says confidently.

He tugs your underwear off harshly, almost angry.

Soon he's naked, and so are you, and he's slipping inside you while you're still on your front, your hips arched all the way up, cupped by his hands. “Let's make this fuck more fun than your drawing, huh?”

And when he starts, goodness, you want him to never, ever stop.

He's ruthless, and he only asks if you're alright once, after three strokes. After that, all's fair, and he's ramming inside you in a way that makes you gasp and arch further, trying to get him even deeper, to an even better angle.

You can't really look at him, since you'd risk a kink in your neck, but he doesn't care. He only cares about his handwriting on your ass, and his name on it. He only cares about the way you're gasping his name, and sometimes, when he slams in at the right moment, the impact causes too much of your breath to come out, so the whispered begging gets punctuated by moaned-out, hiccuped syllables.

He smacks your ass a few more times, his hand tingling, but the spanks seem to make you happy, so he doesn't stop, and he doesn't complain either.

“You're jealous of me, Candy,” he manages to speak, slowing down just enough so he has more of your attention. “Do you have any idea how jealous I am of you? How hard it is to feel like you want to own me half as much as I want to be yours?” He's on his knees behind you, and his thrusts grow more patient, more luscious. Richer and fuller. “Sometimes I'm scared you'll leave me, and someone else will get to have all the wonderful sex I get to have with you. Someone else will get to see your face first thing in the morning, and become a character in your cartoons, and talk about you with their granny, and bring you home for New Year's.” His face collapses close to your shoulder. “What will I do with myself, then?”

You turn your face and you finally get to see him. “Flip me around,” you order him, but your voice is fond. “I want to look you in the eyes while you fuck me like no one else has ever.”

His hair is fuzzy with his perspiration, and his face glistens with a light sheen of sweat. “Sure?” he asks, in confirmation.

“I'm sure,” you comfort him.

He's only happy once you're below him, and he's on top of you, inside you.

You clench around him, and he frowns deeply, trying to control himself. Still, he gives a sharp jab with his hips, and it steals your breath.

“Like that,” you praise him. “I want you to fuck me like that. Like no one else can.”

His eyes stay wide open, stubbornly nailed to yours as he starts moving. It's hard and slow, and it makes you see stars.

“Do you still feel like drawing?” he provokes you, “Or am I fucking you good enough?”

You hiss and bite his arm, both to keep him humble, but also, again, because you can — and nobody else does.

“Maybe I could get on top of you so you can watch my tits bounce, and maybe that will make you want to draw,” you bite back, and next thing you know you're both sat up, you're on his lap and he's bouncing you on his dick.

“Definitely feeling inspired right now,” he concedes. “Maybe I should stop and paint them.”

You push him down and he's finally with his back to the mattress, you on top. “Or maybe you could shut your mouth and get busy so I can cum.”

The slap lands almost immediately on your ass. “Dirty mouth. And a fucking divine cunt,” he speaks through gritted teeth.

He lets you lead for about thirty seconds, during which he stays occupied with your boobs, grabbing them, slapping them, pinching your nipples, and then he grabs your hips and stills them.

“Touch yourself,” he orders your roughly before he starts fucking up from below you.

It escalates quickly from there, and in less than a minute you're gone, collapsing forward, against him, and he's so thankful because he's coming too and your kegels are squeezing him just right, and he only manages to say “fucking yours” before he abandons all his inhibitions and loses himself inside you.

You come back to reality only, and you find yourself tucked in his embrace, his body above yours. You don’t know when he flipped the two of you over, but you like his weight on top of you.

“Hey,” you murmur, combing his hair away from his face.

His expression is lazy and satisfied.

Well done, you tell yourself, almost giving a pat to your own shoulder. He looks fantastically fucked, deliciously edible and perfectly yours.

“Hey you,” he replies, with the most heavenly, blissful grin on his face. No, too tired to be a grin, more like a glowy smile. It’s not fully on, it looks like those battery-operated lights when they’re almost out of energy, a bit faded, or maybe pale. Faint, feeble, dim. Soft. Muted. If his bunny smiles were jewel tones, this was the most delicate pastel pink. A powder baby blue, almost robin egg blue.

You want to wrap yourself in the hazy glow radiating from him, gentle as a sunny dawn in late May.

“So glad you got those Calvin’s,” you joke, and there it is, bunny grin, ten million watts. Apparently that makes his battery die because his head collapses to your neck and he doesn’t seem willing or ready to lift himself back up.

“So glad I made you jealous. But also sorry,” he says, truly apologetic. “I’m happy we did this. I’m happy I saw you like this.”

His lips tickle the side of your neck, and you squirm a little, but you try not to move too much. You want to be comfortable for him to rest on. You want him to stay like that on top of you forever. “I’m still maddish. But I think I can deal with it.”

“There’s more pictures coming,” he says tentatively, and he makes the effort to pick up his head to give you a helpless look, trying to protect himself already by giving you the sweetest pair of puppy eyes he’s ever used on anyone.

“Oh, I’m totally getting your ass branded,” you reply, saccharine. “I was thinking I could make those ribbons, like the ones the police use, except I put my name on it and I wrap it all around your chest, so they can’t drool all over your abs.”

He laughs, and the sound is boyish and playful, and lovely. You fall in love a tiny bit more.

“Can I see the pictures in advance?”

He hums as he thinks about it for three seconds, except he already knows how he wants to play it. “Mh…” he says some more, keeping you on your toes. “No.” He looks up, testing you. “But let’s say I hope you get that cockring ready.”

You pull your head back, eyeing him suspiciously. “You’re not naked in your Calvin’s, right?”

He grins, gives you a devilish wink. “Maybe.”

You grab his cheeks and squeeze his face and he laughs so hard you can’t be possibly mad at him for even a nanosecond. “You’ll be the death of me.”

“And your tits will be it for me,” he flirts back.

You shake your head. “Brat.”

And he kisses you. Just that.

Before he hits the shower the following morning, Jeongguk inspects the damage you’ve done on him.

He’s quite happy with it. A very faint bruise on his neck. A red splotch on his abs, and another on his hip, but nothing that won’t fade within one or two days. He knows you know the drill by now.

He turns around to inspect his back, and he’s okay with it, nothing that will get him in trouble in case he needs to be shirtless or generically undressed around staff members. He drops his underwear and it’s only once he’s making his way to the shower that he notices something strange on his asscheek.

Oh, fuck. Suddenly reminded of your little handiwork with the pen the night before, he bends to the side, trying to get a better view at his ass.

He finds himself wobbling side to side, like a silly puppy chasing his tail, and that is exactly the way you find him when you enter the bathroom.

A laugh bubbles out of you and you smack his butt playfully. “Do you need help with that?” you ask, cheery.

“No,” he bites back, but he has the most innocent, pouty look on his face, and he is having fun a little. “Maybe,” he concedes, his voice young.

You wrap your arms around him and rise to your toes, propping your chin on his shoulder as you hug him from behind. “I wrote, ‘Candy’s babyboy’.”

His ears go red, just the tiniest bit. “Really?” His expression is so sweet.

“Really,” you confirm, confident, serious, and loving.

“You’re not making fun of me,” he asks, vulnerably.

“I promise I’m really, really not, Guk.” You kiss his shoulder. “You’re my babyboy. And my sexy man. And just mine, generally speaking.”

He nods, a happy, fulfilled look on his face. “Right.” He’s once more confident. Entirely adult.

“Love you,” you reassure him again, and then you kiss his shoulder, again.

He grins. There he is, your boy. “Love you too.”

Hi it's Dita, the writer, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment to keep this poor gremlin fanfic writer motivated. Bye and I LOVE YOU!!!

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