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notjustjavierpena · 1 month ago

Note

Hello, i hope this isn’t too much but i really admire your courage to write the hard stuff that goes on between javi and his wife. would you ever write something about the struggles they had about conceiving lucas?

Crazy

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Hiya, anon! This was such a rollercoaster to write but thanks so much for giving me the needed push. Also tysm for the compliment 🥺

Summary: Thoughts of infertility take a toll on you and Javier's marriage.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: Infertility, arguments, apologies, hurt/comfort, angst, emotional sex, lots of kissing, pussy eating, piv sex, mating press, creampie, pillowtalk, aftercare

Word count: 6k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64569853

Crazy

You can’t help but count the months. Seven long ones with still no baby growing in your belly. Seven and counting since you went off your birth control, a ridiculous thought that leaves a bitter taste in your mouth since it turned out that you hadn’t needed it anyway in the first place. Okay, maybe you had but it is your exhaustion talking, whispering it in your ear.

You remember the conversation that Javier and you had in the kitchen that one time a while back, where he promised you that if everything else failed, you would let Steve and Connie set an example and find your own Olivia. Yet neither of you has dared go into the discussion of exactly when it’s time to stop trying, or if you’d truly be ready to adopt.

However, now as you anxiously pace around the kitchen, waiting for Javier to come home and cleaning off stains that aren’t actually there from yesterday’s dishes, you wonder if you should call Connie to hear her opinion.

You stop halfway to the landline to stare at the calendar on the door to the refrigerator. The red circle around today’s date mocks you and you lift your hand up to flip it off, giving it a roll of your eyes now that you’re at it. Seven fucking months of anxiously charting your cycles, tracking ovulation windows, and feeling hope slip away with each negative test.

What if it never happens at all? Connie hadn’t seemed to entertain your worry the last time you brought it up, had shaken her head with a smile you wanted to wipe off her face, and pulled out her authority as a nurse to reassure you. There’s still plenty of time before you need to start worrying, she keeps saying, and it feels like it is the only reason you are still taking vitamins, avoiding caffeine, and doing your exercises.

You’ve reached the phone now, your hand hovering over it in midair. It would be so easy to ring Connie right now and tell her every worry that is constantly going around in your head, every frustration of being in a battle with forcibly loving your body when it isn’t working the way it should. But then you think of Javier and decide against it, convinced by the guilt that nags at you. It feels like a betrayal to begin that particular and very tough conversation with anyone else but him.

You stand there for a moment longer, staring at the phone, silently hoping it will ring and Connie will be on the other end of the line. It would make it easier to justify running your mouth to her.

“Don’t look at me, it just happened,” you would say and still know it wasn’t okay.

Keys being inserted into the front door and the handle rattling makes you tense up in nervous anticipation. Javier is home from work. This is the day you’ve been waiting for a whole month, the one you’ve rearranged your entire schedule around and taken off work because if there’s any chance of being a mom, it has to be now.

“Baby?” He calls when he’s inside the house. You can hear the thud of his bag hitting the floor and the sound of his footsteps going towards the living room.

“I’m here,” you answer through the house. You peek into the living room and see him shrug out of his suit jacket, draping it over the back of the couch and letting himself fall into the cushions with a contented sigh. You know you’re supposed to go in there and spoil his relief.

“Come in here,” he says and taps his fingers on his knees, eyes soft from hoping to see you materialize in the doorway. He always tells you he misses you at his job.

Carefully, you enter the room and approach him with urgency in your body. You have a single mission today and it is a delicate matter.

Get pregnant.

Getpregnantgetpregnantgetpregnant.

Get fucking pregnant.

“Hey,” he says with a tired smile when you stand right in front of him, glad to see you. He holds out his hand for you to take. You don’t reach for it and his smile fades.

“We should have sex,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself. You shift your weight from one foot to the other, staring down at him as he reaches for his tie instead.

“Baby, I just walked in. I just sat down,” he says softly and tugs at the knot on his tie, pulling it loose with a small noise. There’s an underlying emotion to his voice, a hint of frustration to his tone even if he doesn’t want to upset you.

Your focus, your tunnel vision, makes you ignore his complaint as if it isn’t a ticking bomb right between your hands, “If I’ve calculated right, it’s been twelve hours since we last had sex, Javi. I’ve read that it’s a good idea to—“

“We have sex all the time, baby. Three times yesterday. Once at night. We fuck a lot,” he reaches up to run both hands over his face, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands afterward. He does a quick inhale and then sighs.

“Yes, but we have to do it today too to be sure. Connie said that—“ you quickly argue but his jaw muscles flex as you talk. Javier pushes himself to stand with exasperation in his next breath.

He pushes past you as if he cannot take being in your presence for a second longer despite just having arrived home, doesn’t even look at you as he throws back a sarcastic comment, “Oh, Connie said? Really? Wow, you really know how to turn me on.”

“That’s not funny. Hey, come back here,” you say as he starts walking towards the kitchen instead, leaving you with your mouth a thin line. You follow him but don’t go any further than standing in the door, “I’m the only one who initiates sex lately. What if my ovulation is peaking right now? The day is over soon.”

He leans against the kitchen counter, reaching back to grip the edge of the table, “The day isn’t over yet. It’s five in the afternoon. I just got home. We can have sex tonight.”

You finally step fully into the kitchen now and it feels almost like you have crossed enemy lines. You can feel your tears build inside of your chest, crawling steadily up into your throat till they burn but you don’t allow yourself to cry. Why doesn’t he understand the pain of losing another month to grief? Why is it not as important to him? You look desperate, “Connie said it’s best during the day.”

“Stop,” he suddenly commands, causing you to flinch. He looks angry at you, unable to register the impact of the tone of his voice because of his own state of mind but it makes you tremble. He is never this way, “I can’t fucking take another fucking word about eggs and sperm and fertile windows. It’s too much now. You’re being crazy.”

Something breaks inside of you at those words, a beast that’s been hidden inside a cage in your chest threatening to escape and go for the kill. You watch him carelessly turn away to open the fridge, detachment on his face as if he has just argued with you about what you’re having for dinner. He leaves you feeling in complete disbelief and disarray, your heart ticking like a bomb. You need out right now or you might suffocate in the large, childless space that you moved into with the idea that you would be a family of three soon.

You leave the room with your heartbeat pounding in your ears. The walls feel like they are closing in on you, close to trapping you here in this feeling forever if you don’t hurry up and reach the front door quickly.

You slam the door behind you, no shoes on your feet, and then suddenly you are close to running down the street, breathing harder and harder while your arms swing along your sides in your haste.

He has never called you crazy before. The word feels like he has just spat in your face, wrapped you in barbed wire, as if he sees you as just one more woman suffering from hysteria. Dismissible and unserious. Crazy. You swear you can feel all of the women before you right behind you, giving you the wind in your back to run faster than ever even with no destination. You don’t even feel your feet hurt from being bare against the harsh ground.

However, you are barely a few blocks away from your home when you hear Javier’s voice calling out your name with the same desperation that you have felt since the first negative pregnancy test.

The second you hear him, you automatically start running faster, determined to escape something you can’t quite pinpoint what is, but it only lasts a few seconds. Eventually, you finally slow down. Not because you want him to catch you but because your chest is heaving and your eyes are burning with tears, blurring your vision and disorienting you.

He grabs your arm firmly when he reaches you and tries to pull you into an embrace. You resist at first, stiffening against him as he wraps you in his arms.

“Stop!” You sob violently but he doesn’t let go even when you start crying loud enough to attract attention. Instead, he tightens his grip around you to calm your nervous system. How odd it is to want comfort from the man who also made you cry.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” he says repeatedly, his cheek against yours while you try to hit his chest. You can hear the regret in his voice but your pride makes you unwilling to soften.

You struggle further, almost like a panicked animal, wanting to kick and scream to escape a trap, but the fight is going out of your body quickly, gripped by exhaustion and making you sag. Another sob rips itself from your throat, “If I’m so crazy then there’s no reason we should be together let alone have a baby.”

When you’re less resistant, he cradles your head in his hand to make you look at him, “I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean any of it. You’re not crazy. Dios, soy un pendejo (God, I’m an idiot). I’m so sorry, mi amor (my love).”

You sink to your knees but he catches you before they hit the sidewalk.

“I’m not crazy,” you insist weakly as you slump into his embrace.

“You’re not crazy,” he confirms quietly, “I’d take that back if I could.”

“It’s okay. I’m sorry too… You were frustrated and tired,” you sniffle and your bottom lip trembles, “I shouldn’t have pushed you the second you walked through the door. I’m just worried that we have to wait a whole month before we can try again because we’re too lazy to have sex. And I hate that it is ruining our sex life because I love having sex with you.”

Javier says your name but it’s clear that it has caught him off guard.

You pull back to look up at his face. His brown eyes are soft and full of apologies, like the impact of his words only hits him now, “Now I’m scared that this is all responsible for you not finding me sexy anymore. I know it’s stupid but what if I’m the reason why we never get there? What if all this pressure makes you stop wanting me? What if I–”

“Now that’s crazy,” he says in an attempt to smooth things over with a joke but that one crease in his forehead, the one that he gets when frustration hits, is back because it doesn’t work.

You compose yourself enough to step back and give him a warning look, a look that says don’t you dare say that word again. He holds his hands up in surrender and then just reaches for your wrist, tugs it until he can entwine your fingers.

“What?” You’re the one to bite now, "I'm serious. I don’t want to lose you in this."

"You're not going to lose me,” he groans in exasperation. A few heads have popped up in the windows of the houses surrounding you.

“Then why aren’t you upset like I am?” You ask harshly and pull your hand away to hug yourself. You avoid his gaze.

Javier looks at you as if you’ve cracked him wide open right there on the sidewalk. He furrows his brows, opening his mouth without any words coming out. He turns away then, needs to gather himself without staring at your face.

You know immediately that you have crossed a line, that you have hit a nerve that wasn’t supposed to be as exposed as it suddenly is.

“Javi,” you murmur shamefully.

“Is that what you think?” He turns back to you, the look in his eyes frantic and desperate. He also looks furious but for some reason, you can tell it isn’t directed at you, “That— That I’m not scared or upset enough? I’m terrified all the fucking time but if I let myself be as scared as you are, I’d be fucking useless to you.”

The realization hits you like an oncoming train, making tears start falling from your eyes again. You don’t know why it hadn’t occurred to you. Javier feels the exact same way as you but he simply hides it better.

You want to say something but he beats you to it, pointing at you to stress his point, his chest heaving, “And for the record. There’s no fucking universe where I stop wanting you.”

You don’t know what to say, so you do the next best thing and show him. You reach to cup his face, your thumbs stroking along his cheekbones, and then you kiss his lips.

He sighs against your mouth, his broad palms finding your waist and tugging you as close as possible until he can wrap you in the harbor of his arms. Then he kisses you deeper, several times too, each brush of his lips releasing more of the tension between you.

You’re here. In the same boat. And you love each other so much. That should be enough, even when it doesn’t feel like it is.

When the kiss is over, you don’t draw away from each other. Instead, he pulls you into a tight hug, holding you protectively close to his chest and stroking the back of your head. You link your arms around him, clinging tightly to him with a few tears staining his shirt because you have hurt each other so much.

“I want to go home,” you murmur softly into his shoulder while he strokes your hair, “Por favor (please).”

“Okay,” he answers just as gently, placing a kiss on your forehead before drawing back, “We’ll go home.”

You walk home side by side, no words spoken between you. The tension is still there, sizzling in the air but it is charged with something else too. You almost feel like a teenager again, back when you were too scared to speak to the person you’ve decided late at night that you’d go through fire for.

The first block is spent with your hands brushing as they hang by your sides and the both of you holding your breath when it happens but then Javier laces your fingers together and a quiet understanding settles over you.

When you enter the front door together, none of you even glance in the direction of the kitchen or the living room. There's no hurry to move on from the storm of intense emotions that you have just been through, no hurry to busy yourself with anything that’ll simply push it down or bottle it up.

The only urgency now is that storm, your hearts tense but only with the need to reassure each other. His mouth finds yours again, his body pushes you against the wall and the intensity behind his kiss grows from how he had kissed you in the street. Your lips meet in a kiss so deep that Javier coaxes a moan from your mouth.

For once in all of this, you’re not scared of the outcome of being together, entwined. The need to conceive a child with your husband is still very much there but right now, it is overshadowed by a need to connect fully, to lick each other’s wounds even if you caused them.

You reach to untie the knot on his tie completely. He hesitates for just a breath, a hand on your wrist to gain your attention.

“Are you sure?” He asks despite how you still pull the tie out from underneath his collar.

“Yes,” you don’t hesitate a second and drop the tie on the floor, desire ignited in your belly, “I’m so sure. I want you.”

He lets out a shaky breath with a smile, nodding his head while you move in to kiss his throat where his pulse thrums. His eyes close at the contact, his head tilting back just a little until a soft moan escapes his mouth. Your body grows warm from hearing it and you take it as a cue to move in silence, sharing searing kisses all the way to the bedroom.

When you get there, Javier closes the door behind you and turns the lock, not because there’s any chance that you will be disturbed but just to keep the outside world at bay for a little while. It feels more intimate like that, like you are the only two people in the world.

You stand by the end of the bed, watching him do it and feeling your heart pounding in your chest from anticipation. You smile softly when he approaches you, too afraid that words might mess up the way that air crackles with intimacy and tenderness.

He reaches out first as if promising to take the lead of you, curling his fingers around the edge of your top to lift it up. You raise your arms in the air to let him peel it over your head, goosebumps erupting on your skin where his knuckles brush you. He drops your top on the floor.

You finally reciprocate by moving to undo the buttons of his white shirt. Your hands tremble slightly as you do it but Javier is patient, just reaches to gently steady your wrist by holding it.

When you have reached the last one, he takes over and shrugs the fabric off his shoulders to reveal his warm and safe chest. You step closer, hands finding his shoulders as you lean in to kiss along his collarbone. He takes the opportunity to unclasp your bra while you’re at it, a palm skimming up your back while the other rests at your waist.

When your breasts are bare, your nipples have hardened at the sudden exposure to the colder temperature. He undoes his belt and jeans, and when he bends slightly to take them off along with his boxers, he presses a tender kiss right over a nipple and skims his nose and lips across your chest to do the same thing with the other.

You moan softly. He grabs around your waist and helps lowering you down onto the bed. You sit on the edge but not for long, moving back until you can lay down spread out. He follows you like a magnet, ends up kneeling between your legs so he can undo and yank down your pants.

You help kick them off and then bend your knees briefly to let him drag your underwear down too. His mouth is everywhere he can reach; your ankles, your calves, knees, and thighs.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs softly on his way down your inner thigh, breaking the silence, and while he says those words a lot, there’s something different behind them today. It is almost like he is telling you something else; you’re not broken, not defined in your femininity by your body’s ability to carry his child.

You hold tears at bay and run your hand over his hair, looking down at the top of his head as his face disappears down between your thighs. Your mouth falls open in a soft gasp when he first mouths along your cunt.

“Javi,” you sigh a moment later, your head knocking back into the bed so you can look up at the ceiling while focusing on the velvety feeling of his mouth.

He eats you slowly, the flat of his tongue gently moving over your clit until you can’t help each sigh and moan that falls from your lips. His fingers spread your cunt open, his other hand squeezing your thigh as he pulls your legs further apart to dive in.

“Please,” you hear yourself say. It’s the moment you realize how long it has been since you last were together like this; he hasn’t gone down on you for months because it doesn’t make a baby. The room is quiet except for your labored breaths and the filthy wet sounds of his mouth teasing you towards the edge. It feels so good to be wanted like this, reassured of how sexy you are without all the pressure to procreate.

Hearing that soft plea makes Javier wrap his lips around your clit to kiss it repeatedly. He moans into you when your legs start to tremble in his peripheral vision. He switches it up and sucks. It makes you whimper, your back arching off the bed as he worships you between your thighs.

You are sure that he’ll pull away when you lift your pelvis up to meet his mouth further, but he doesn’t stop. Instead, he just slides the hand on your thigh down under the small of your back to hold you there, then breathes heavily through his nose and hungrily continues to make you inch closer to the edge.

Like always, he can hear your orgasm knocking by the way you begin to hold your breath between small gasps of pleasure. He intensifies the pressure and the precision just so, and you slide both hands through his hair - something he has clearly been waiting for with the way he groans - while your toes start to curl.

When you actually come, it drags a sinful groan out of the both of you. Your thighs lock around his head and you pull at his hair. It’s not pretty and polite. It’s pure release, and it is ripped out of you like it has been buried under your prickly skin, underneath heartbreak, forever.

You say his name until it makes no sense anymore, swallowing down desperate gulps of air. He lets you ride it out on his tongue, making sure to tease out every little aftershock before releasing you from his grasp. Yes, you needed this but it is almost like he needed it more.

“You don’t know what it does to me,” he breathes heavily while you come down. He trails off and rests his forehead against your thigh, “You don’t fucking know what it does to me… when you look at me like you did earlier… Like you’re done.”

“I’m not,” you whisper in reply, voice shaky with tears that have finally found release. You cry softly, “I’m not done. Never done.”

“Don’t cry, baby,” he looks up at you with those brown eyes that are so hard to resist because of the silent plead within them. It hurts your chest to watch him so full of remorse, hurts to be loved this much.

“Come here,” you whisper softly and hold your arms open for him but he wants to take it slow.

He kisses his way up your body instead - a kiss to your hip, your belly, one right beneath your ribs - and you use the opportunity to slide your fingers through his hair. His mustache is slick with you, scratching just slightly as he treats you like you might not be in his bed tomorrow.

But while he wants to savor you, you feel the growing impatience within your chest. You need him closer, your hands going repeatedly from his hair to his shoulders and then to his back because you are unsure of where to touch him when you want all of him.

When he has his knees between your thighs again, he doesn’t crush you with his weight. Instead, he hovers above, eyes roaming over your face to check if you’re still letting him have you. In response, you settle on cupping his face. He automatically turns his face to press a longing kiss into the palm of your hand.

You pull him to your mouth in a kiss that steals his breath away, his hand cupping the side of your neck. You kiss him like you should have done the moment he came in through the door and he meets your mouth like he needs to feel forgiveness in his very bones. Maybe a kiss like this would have avoided the pain that you inflicted upon each other. You cry in his arms. He wipes tears away with his thumbs and doesn’t rush you.

Eventually, you are panting from the intensity of what feels like one of the deepest kisses of your life. Your lips are swollen and sensitive, and his cock is hard against your thigh to the point where you think he must be aching. The occasional kiss to your throat makes your whole body tingle with want, your cunt fluttering in interest. The pressing issue, however, is that you need to put all of these feelings somewhere.

“Fuck me,” you whisper with your fingers in his hair, breathing hard against his mouth, “Please, baby. I need you inside of me.”

Javier swears quietly under his breath as if he has been waiting for those words, nodding repeatedly with his stare fixed on your lips before giving you another desperate kiss.

He reluctantly pulls away, your hands slipping out of his dark locks, to sit back on his knees. You let your palms lay flat on the sheets and stare up at him, his face full of determination while he slides his hands around the back of your knees.

At first, you think he wants to drag you down on the bed and closer to himself but then he lifts your legs and you gasp because you immediately know what he is doing with you. He pushes until your thighs are pressed against your chest, your cunt on full display and at his mercy.

He doesn’t speak as he moves over you again, not stopping until his chest brushes the back of your thighs and your ankles are resting on his broad shoulders. He folds you even further in when he leans down to kiss your throat, the soft sound that escapes you vibrating underneath his lips.

You grip the sheets and hold on for dear life as he enters you slowly, giving you the full length of his cock inch by inch. He holds your gaze as he bottoms out and it makes you so aware of everything he does to you. There's no space between you now. Not physically. Not emotionally. He looks at you as if telling you that you and he belong together, like he is ready to rewrite the last seven months of your sex life.

You can’t speak, can’t even think because you’re still trembling and sensitive. The stretch of his cock is almost too much inside of you but he is gentle with you, letting you adjust while kissing his way to your mouth again.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your lips.

You nod as if to reciprocate and then whimper as another tear escapes, “I love you. I missed you.”

“I know, I missed you too,” he whispers and gently kisses away the salty tear.

The ache of need catches up to you as you get used to feeling him inside of your cunt so fully, the thick head of his cock resting against the spot where you need him the most. An impatient flutter of your walls makes him give in and move inside of you.

You moan feebly while he takes you slowly and full of precision. The angle of this position has you breathless in seconds, your back arching with each stroke against your g-spot. Your moans mix together with the sound of skin slapping against skin in the otherwise quiet room. You hold onto his biceps, feeling the muscles of his arms flex beneath your touch as he strains his body to give you everything he has.

“I’ve got it now, mi amor (my love)” he lets you know through ragged breaths, resting his forehead against yours, “You don’t have to start it anymore. No need to ask.”

“Don’t stop. Javi— oh, don’t stop,” you plead him with a steady stream of teardrops falling from your eyes. They roll down into your hair faster than he can kiss them away but it doesn’t matter, you think to yourself, because you want him to see what he does to you; that his words move you, that you needed to hear them because you’re exhausted and fuck, he loves you so much.

“Shh, don’t cry, baby, you’re okay,” he coos with another soft kiss to follow. You turn your head afterward to press your face into the side of his head, brows furrowing as the first hints of your climax being within reach show.

He barely pulls out anymore, just grinds down into your cunt and hits the right spot repeatedly. There’s no talking either. Instead, just the sound of your sweat-slicked bodies moving together, your breath hitching in your throat as your belly tightens even more, and his growls every time your cunt squeezes around him.

“You feel so fucking good, baby. You’re making me come,” he grits out, sweat gathering on his brow and concentration all over his face.

“I’m close,” you gasp with your thighs starting to tremble from how intense it is going to be. You let your head bump into the mattress, your spine arching in a bow as it creeps up on you and your breathing begins to stutter.

You come with a silent cry towards the ceiling because all air is knocked out of you. It takes a few moments before noise catches up to you but when it does, you absolutely sob underneath the weight of his body. The intensity makes you clamp down on his cock, your walls going into rhythmic squeezes that make Javier hiss and his pace falter from how you milk him.

“I’m coming,” he near-whimpers before going off into a satisfied groan while his hips stutter, “Fuck, baby. You’re— I’m coming.”

He buries himself to the hilt before spilling inside of your wet, oversensitive heat. You gasp at the feeling of it, the weight of it settling inside of you. He trembles above you, enough for you to slide your hands up to his shoulders and cup his face.

He holds himself up with one hand and holds one of yours with the other, breathing rapidly. His chest is broad and glistening with sweat, warm and nearly suffocating but he is yours. You want it like that, want to drown in the intimacy that you feel.

Without a word, he straightens and pulls out his softening cock. It makes you tense up, looking down where you have been connected with worry on your face. You don’t want it to slip, to not work this time either, but he guides your legs together and then shifts slightly on the mattress. He lays them gently on one shoulder, making sure that no drop spills from you.

“I’ve got you,” he coos, almost shushing you like a child. His arms cradle your legs, “Don’t worry.”

You can do nothing but whimper. He rubs your belly with his free hand and you place your palm on top of it, an unconscious gesture of hope between you.

“This is the most important thing,” he says after weighing his words for a moment, “You and I.”

“Javi,” you protest but there’s no exasperation building up beneath the surface this time. He shakes his head to stop any words at the tip of your tongue.

“I will give you anything you want. A house, a baby, anything you want,” he tells you, whispering it as if there are other people in the room besides the two of you and he wants privacy. It feels safer to hear him lower his voice, “But not if it costs me you. We are not meant to fight like that.”

Your bottom lip trembles because he is right. You’re not meant to fight like that at all, chests heaving with adrenaline and bloodlust from grief over the fact that something is getting the better of you. It feels as unnatural as snow in August and rivers running dry.

“I want to give you a baby,” you say quietly and feel a tear slide down your cheek. Javier reaches to brush it away with his index finger, shushing you once more with the gentleness in him only reserved for you.

“And you will,” he promises and cups your cheek afterward, his thumb stroking your face where another tear has fallen, “It’ll happen. This way or another.”

Your eyes flutter closed. You nod.

“Do you know how much I love you?” He asks and lets his mouth graze the side of your ankle.

“I love you too,” you say back without much thought that he is actually asking a question.

“Yes, but do you know how much? Look at me,” he waits for a moment.

Your gaze locks onto him, your eyes big and teary.

“I don’t think you know how lucky I am to have you in my life after all the stupid shit I’ve done back in Colombia. I hurt people. I watched people die. No wonder I wasn’t all here when I came back. I thought I was just gonna float through the rest of my life being angry or drifting in some bar like a ghost. You were the first thing that felt like… like the world could be soft again. And now you think I could ever stop wanting you?” He shakes his head in disbelief, “You’re the only place I’ve ever felt like I could put my feet down and not run. When everything starts to weigh down on me, you breathe life back into me. Whatever happens next, I want it with you, okay?”

You cry with your heart feeling too big for your chest, words lost on you because how can he still love you when this takes such a toll on you that it brings out the worst in you? Probably just how you can love him just the same too.

You sniffle, “Yes, me too.”

He looks serious and soft, “Even if it’s not how we imagined. Even if we gotta go knock on Connie’s door and ask for the number of that adoption agency… or do IVF… or whatever the hell else it takes.”

You nod. When you speak, it is nothing but a squeak, “Yes.”

“But right now,” he caresses the skin of your calf and murmurs into another kiss to your ankle, “I just wanna stay here. In this bed. With my wife… and let the world wait a little while longer. Can we do that?”

“Can I get my legs down, so we can cuddle?” You shift a little, still slick between your thighs and sore in the best way, but there’s no rush to clean up or face anything other than the rise and fall of his chest against yours.

He smiles, “Of course. Lift your legs, I’ve got you.”

He does. He always does.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

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oya-oya-okay · 2 years ago

Text

OHHHH MYYYY GOOOODDDDD~~~~!!

GOD HE'S SO CHARMING💓💓💓 HE'S SOooOOoo CHARMING!!!💗💗💗💗💗💗

I WAS VERY SURPRISED AND I WAS VERY HAPPY💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕 AAHHHH

THANK YOU VERY MUCH😭😭😭 REALLY THANK YOU!!!💓💓💓 It really means a lot to me!!!💕💕💕💖💖💖

A little surprise gift for @oya-oya-okay! <3

I love how cheerful you always are, you always bring my mood up! I hope you've had a great day ^v^

#TYSM TYSM TYSM #I'M VERY HAPPY THAT YOU DREW RIDDLE #💗💓💗💓💗💓💗💓#It really made me happy!!😭😭😭#And your beautiful words in the tags.. Thank you very much!!#It really touched me!!🥺💕💕💕#I am very happy that you see me like this!! That's how I see you too #You're always so sweet and nice. You are always positive and I am amazed at this!!💘💘💘#Thank you for your compliments. I am very happy💓💓💓💗💗💗#You really have become a dear friend to me!!😭💖💖💖#AWESOME ART #SUPER CUTE #bigbrainbiology💖#You really drew a lot for me... And I'm happy that you decided to draw something for me again when you had an artblock💗💗💗

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hyunjincanraptoo · 19 days ago

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omfg the prompts ????!!! wake shakespeare up rn his ass needs to see this 🤓☝️

i SWEAR tried to pick one only but cough cough...

im begging u 6, 13, 14, 16 pleaseeeeeee 🥺

muchos te quieros ❤️❤️ (idk im not dora)

Hola, cariño! Omg you are making me blush with all these compliments 🤭 Tysm hihi. I will write the other prompts in separate posts and you can find number 6 here. También te queiro �� Voy a mejorar mi español para hablar contigo (no sé quién eres, pero it's okay haha).

Prompt 16: Sharing the sleeping bag while camping

Prompt list— open

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: smut, friends to lovers

Alexa, play Sweater Weather by The Neighbourhood

The fire was already fading, its embers glowing faintly. Everyone was starting to retreat into their tents, voices fading into the quiet hum of the woods. You pulled Jeongin’s sweater tighter around yourself, the sleeves swallowing your hands.

“Are you cold?”, he asked, sitting beside you.

You looked at him, “I'm literally freezing. More than Jack Dawson”

Jeongin laughed, “You’re so dramatic. Good thing you’ve got my sweater”

“Honestly at this point, I might need your whole body heat”

You didn’t mean it to come out like that but as usual, he just laughed it off, a soft chuckle escaping him.

“Be careful”, he murmured, “I might accept that offer”

You looked away, suddenly aware of how warm your cheeks were despite the cold air

Rolling your eyes, you said, “It’s not an offer”

But when it came time to sleep, the joke turned into reality.

No one knew how it happened, but there’d been a mix up. Jeongin’s pack had been missing some gear and only one sleeping bag was left— yours. The others were already claimed, and there was no room in anyone else’s tent. Jeongin scratched the back of his neck when he realized.

“I can just sleep in my hoodie, no big deal”

“No, you can’t. Don’t be an idiot”, you cut in, already unzipping the bag, “You’ll wake up with pneumonia. Get in. Just… don’t be weird”

He paused, “I’m never weird”

You both knew that was a lie, but neither of you said it.

It was cramped. The kind of cramped that left no space between your bodies so you had his chest pressed against your back, his legs curled behind yours. And it was warm. Like, really warm. Despite that, it was still very very cold, and you couldn’t help but shiver uncomfortably against his body. And you could feel the way his breath hitched when you did that.

But then

You shifted slightly, and you felt it— he hard pressed against your lower back.

Immediately, your body went stiff. And of course he noticed it. Without moving, he whispered in your ear.

“…You’re making it really hard to sleep”. Yeah, you could tell something was hard in there.

You gulped, “B-because it’s tight in here?”

“No”, he said, and you could feel him smirking against your skin, “Because you’re shivering and squirming against me like that”

You didn’t answer.

Then in a low, concerned tone, he asked, “Are you still cold?”

“A little, yes”, you murmured, trying not to let your voice shake.

“Can I help?”, his hand found your hip, gently, “I’ll stop if you say no”

Your heart started to pound, “Jeongin…”

“Just let me warm you up”, he said, “Nothing crazy. Just… a friend helping another friend”

Unable to think straight, you easily agreed. Maybe it was your frozen neurons. Or maybe you just craved him.

His hand slid under the sweater slowly, splaying his finger over your stomach. The touch was light, careful, but it made heat build up between your legs. You couldn’t stop the tiny sound that escaped you.

“Are you okay?”, he whispered.

You nodded.

Then he pressed closer, hips aligning with yours, the full length of him tucked against your ass now. You could tell exactly how hard he was. It pulsed against you, unashamedly.

“I’ve wanted to be this close to you for so long”, he said, voice thick with lust, like he had been holding back for a while.

You turned your head slightly, “Then why didn’t you say something?”

“I didn’t think you’d want me like this”

You breath faltered, “Well, I do”

His hand moved lower, “Then let me take care of you”.

You let him.

And the moment your hips pressed back into his, the tension shattered like broken glass.

His hand slid from your stomach to your thigh, tracing the curve of it through the fabric of your sleeping shorts. His breath brushed over the back of your neck, hot and shaky.

“Your body is perfect”, he whispered, pressing soft kisses to your neck, “I knew it’d be like this”

You closed your eyes, feeling the way he touched you— it wasn’t rushed, it was careful. Like he was savoring the way your body melted against his. Jeongin’s hips rolled slowly into yours, the thick length of him grinding between your ass cheeks, making you whimper.

“Jeongin…”

“You feel that?”, he murmured, letting you feel all of him through the layers of fabric, “Been like this since the second I got into this damn sleeping bag”

You reached back, hand sliding down his thigh, then between your bodies until you could palm him against his boxers. His breath hitched, hips jerked forward.

“Damn”, he groaned.

“Are you okay back there, Innie?”, you teased him

“You can’t do that and expect me to be okay“

You smiled, drunk on the feeling of him— flushed and desperate behind you.

He nudged your sleep shorts down with a shaky hand, just enough to expose the curve of your ass. Then his fingers slipped between your legs, stroking you over your underwear, and he hissed when he felt how soaked you already were.

“Shit… you’re dripping”

“It’s your fault”, you whispered back.

He laughed softly, mouth dragging down your neck, “Can I take them off?”

“Yes, fuck…”

Everything felt hotter in the small space of the sleeping bag, like the world had shrunk to just your bare skin, his fingers sliding through your folds, your swallowed moans…

Suddenly, he pushed into you from behind. You gasped, hand reaching back to clutch at his leg. He filled you completely until your body trembled from the stretch.

“F-fuck”, he groaned, his forehead dropping to your shoulder, “You’re so tight”

Then he started to move in tender thrusts, hips grinding against yours, skin slapping softly in the dark tent. His arm curled around your waist, holding you close, keeping you close.

“Does that feel good?”, he whispered.

You couldn’t speak. So you just whimpered as he angled his hips just right and hit the spot that made your toes curl.

He kept the pace deep and unhurried, like he had nowhere else to be. His mouth pressed to your shoulder, teeth dragging lightly over your skin.

“You wrap around me so perfectly”, he growled, thrusting deeper, “I can’t believe we waited this long”

You pushed back into him, moaning, “Don’t stop… please”

“I won’t”

You could feel your orgasm building already, every slow grind of his hips pushing you closer to the edge.

And then it hit you.

Your body tensed, thighs shaking as you came around him, squeezing down so tight his breath caught in his throat.

“Fuck… shit…”, he gasped, hips stuttering, cock twitching inside you, “Oh my god, you’re clenching too hard… I’m gonna…”

Your voice was ragged, urgent, “Not inside. Please, not inside”

He groaned, high and wrecked, burying his face in your neck as he fought every instinct screaming at him to let go right there, “Shit…fuck… I’m trying… I’m trying…”

He pulled out at the last second, trembling with the effort, and his cock pulsed against your ass as he spilled all over your skin— hot, thick strands trailing your lower back, dripping down over the curve of your ass.

His hand clenched tight on your waist as he came, breath hitched and broken against your shoulder.

For a second, all he could do was stare.

“Holy fuck”, he whispered, eyes wide as he watched his release slide slowly down your skin. “That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen”

You still could feel your pulse pounding.

Jeongin pressed a kiss to your shoulder, a small gesture, quietly thanking you.

“I almost lost it”, he murmured, “I’ve never had to fight that hard in my life”

You laughed softly, breathless. “You did good.”

He curled himself on you tighter, then grabbed one of his hoodies from the floor to gently clean you up.

“Next time” he said with a smug grin, voice still hoarse, “I’m not pulling out. I wanna feel all of it”

You both stayed tangled like that for a few more moments— his chest to your back, holding you close like you were too precious to let go, wth your breaths syncing.

“Are you warmer now, princess?”, he asked.

“Actually I think I’m sweating now”, you hummed, already almost falling asleep.

Jeongin kissed the back of your neck, “We should’ve shared a sleeping bag a long time ago”.

You couldn’t agree more.

Comment in any post if you want to be added :)

Taglist: @hyyunjinnn , @jehhskz , @mbioooo0000 , @nightmarenyxx , @rozsdascsaptelep , @thatonegirlonhere , @notmedina127, @sweetlifeofjoy , @jeonginsleftcheek , @yelhsaa @my-neurodivergent-world , @hyunles , @lexlikesbts , @imagine-all-the-imagines , @mysterysold , @teenagepeterpan , @hangonhyunjin

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emilys-bangs · 9 months ago

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could i request an Emily xfem!Reader fic where they end up sharing a room while out on a case? and maybe there’s a couch or something and somehow reader falls asleep with her head on Emily’s lap? i just can’t stop imagining Emily playing with reader’s hair to help her sleep 🥺 love how you write Emily 🩵

fall right into me | e.p

Tags: room sharing, fluff, pining (so much pining), reader has enough hair for emily to run her fingers through—length not specified, no use of yn

Word count: 1.8k

Tysm 🫶🏼 I write gn reader, hope that's ok <3

It’s cold. You’re rubbing your skin through the wool of your sweater, stifling a yawn as Hotch walks into the motel lobby. Four keys are clutched in his hand.

“There’s only four rooms available, we’ll have to double up.” He says, and you bite your lip to keep a groan from escaping. The cold seeping in through the thin walls has made you cranky, and after a whole day spent on your feet, the thought of sharing your precious alone time with someone makes you want to slam your head into a wall.

Amongst the seven of you, three of the rooms would be occupied by pairs. That leaves one spare room.

Everyone reaches that conclusion the same time you do.

Immediately, they start squabbling over who gets the spare room, Morgan and Reid protesting sharing with each other. Emily ignores them and turns to you, gently bumping your shoulder with hers.

“Roomies?” She whispers, her dark eyes wide.

Well, shit.

It’s not that you hadn’t shared a room with Emily before, but rather, you hadn’t ever since you’ve realized—quite inconveniently—that you’re in love with her.

It’s hard not to be. Against your better judgment, you’d fallen for her. For the soft way she teases you, the sturdy way she has your back. The curve of her lip and the darkness of her eyes have enchanted you, swarms of butterflies turning your stomach when you get a glimpse of dimples, when you see her swoop her bangs over bottomless irises.

Her shoulder is still pressed against yours, a warm weight that seeps heat through your sweater. Sharing a room with anyone right now is an egregious thought.

But Emily isn’t just anyone.

You can’t help but give her a small smile, even as your heart jumps against your ribs. “Sure.”

Emily returns it, a dimple creasing in her cheek as she turns and snatches a key from Hotch, walking past him while the others continue their arguing over the spare room. You trail after her and catch up on the rickety stairs, the cold in your skin chased away at the thought of rooming with her again.

“Promise you won’t snore this time?” Emily turns to you, a teasing glint in her eyes as you walk up the steps together. They’re so narrow your shoulder has no choice but to knock into hers.

“Hey!” You complain as she lets out a low chuckle. “I was sick, I told you.” A frown drags your lips downward, but when you spot Emily’s smile, it’s all you can do to keep it in place.

You step onto the landing as she hums, twirling the key around her finger, “You did have a pretty cute sick voice.” She muses thoughtfully as her eyes skip over the few doors lining the hallway, looking for the number that matches the one etched onto the key.

Heat simmers in your cheeks. Your skin grows tight and itchy under your sweater, the sudden flush of warmth in your body making you pull your lip between your teeth.

“Ah, here it is,” Emily murmurs and approaches the door, casually fitting the key in the lock as if she didn’t just blow your whole world out of proportion with a few words.

You’re hardly looking as you follow her in, distantly taking in the two twin beds and couch while your brain replays her comment in the hallway. The thud of the door behind you doesn’t register, your blank gaze just barely taking in Emily as she claims the bed on the right.

Snap out of it, you firmly tell yourself. She’s just saying your voice was nasal. Hardly a compliment.

But your stomach is still in knots.

“I’m taking the bathroom.” Emily says.

She’s going to take an eternity, you know, so you hum, drop your bag on the floor, and sag onto the bed next to hers. The bathroom door clicks shut and you sigh, kicking off your shoes and curling your legs into your chest as you turn sideways, your eyes catching the TV.

Exhaustion is heavy in your bones, mingling with the cold. A yawn escapes past your lips as you stare at the dark screen, distantly listening to the sound of the sink running as Emily gets ready for bed. Even as your body screams for sleep, your eyes are wide open, jumping from couch to desk to TV, restlessly taking in your surroundings as you run through the case in your head and allow the disquiet of your thoughts to run rampant.

It takes the better part of ten minutes before Emily finally walks back into the room and murmurs, “Bathroom’s free.”

Rather sluggishly, you drag yourself off the bed and into the bathroom with another yawn. The first thing your eyes fall on is the sink, and Emily’s assorted skincare products littered around it.

The sight makes you smile. There’s glass bottles with droppers and smooth, expensive looking creams and glossy tubes with soft, pastel colored caps. You’re used to this display; serums and cleansers and moisturizers, each that she presses into her skin with a diligence that makes you wait for an upward of fifteen minutes outside the bathroom door. Your own routine is much simpler—washing your face and brushing your teeth and changing into another sweatshirt that serves as pajamas.

When you finish getting un-ready and walk back out into the bedroom, you find Emily on the couch. She’s in a worn t-shirt and sweatpants, channel surfing as she nibbles on her bottom lip. You sit next to her and try to conceal the hitch in your breath when her warm eyes slide to meet yours, the intense darkness of her gaze forcing you to look somewhere else. The freckles on her cheeks catch your attention; warm sprinkles of cinnamon that dust her skin, tiny spots nestled in the curve of her nose and the folds of her under-eyes, softly standing out against her pale complexion and bringing out the darkness of her irises.

“Any suggestions?” She murmurs as she turns back to the screen. The overhead lights are dimmed, the room blanketed in a low glow from the bedside lamps. Light from the TV washes over the two of you, throwing Emily’s features into sharp relief as she skips over channel after channel, not yet finding what she’s looking for.

“No.” You say. Forcing your gaze away from her, you turn to the TV and watch her restless browsing instead. She flips through the channels and a yawn leaves your lips, making your eyes water as you sag further into the couch.

By some force of nature, your head falls against Emily’s shoulder.

She tenses for the briefest second before relaxing again, her shoulder collapsing beneath your head as she breathes in and out. Heart thudding wildly in your chest, you gnaw on your lip and steadfastly keep your eyes on the screen as Emily pauses on a showing of When Harry met Sally. You barely see the movie, too preoccupied with the places your body touches hers.

In the cold room, the air between you two buzzes with shared warmth. Your arm pressing against her arm, your sweatshirt rubbing against her skin; shoulder to shoulder, elbow to elbow. Emily exhales again, heavy enough that you feel it in your body.

Shit, you freeze. What if I’m making her uncomfortable? She probably wants me to get off—

Her hand finds its way into your hair. The muscles in your body turn into liquid as she scratches your scalp, gathers some strands of hair around her index finger.

“You’re tired, aren’t you?” She asks softly. Her voice vibrates through her skin; you feel it in your bones.

When you turn your head to slot under her jaw, you smell honeysuckle. Your eyes flutter shut. “How’d ya know?”

Stupid question.

“Well,” Emily starts, and again the vibrations of her voice travel to your heart, “you’ve yawned like ten times in the car and since we’ve gotten out.” She scratches her short nails against your scalp, “Those pretty eyes of yours have started to grow distant, and you’re walking like a lifeless zombie.”

“Hmm.” You hum, latching on to the word pretty. The more she plays with your hair, twirling it gently around her finger, the more incoherent you grow, your eyes getting heavier by the second. Shit, that feels good.

“I think that’s a yes.” Her voice is amused. You can almost picture the smile on her face, gently tugging at her lips. You’re thinking you should move—by this rate you’ll definitely fall asleep on her shoulder, numbing it beyond belief—when Emily slides her fingers out of your hair.

A disappointed frown draws your brows together. The feeling doesn’t last long before she gently places her fingertips on the back of your neck, pushing carefully down until your head is in her lap.

In her lap. Your head is in her lap—

“I don’t think my shoulder’s the most comfortable place to sleep.” Emily says apologetically. Her nimble fingers slide back into your hair and she drags her nails against your scalp.

You sigh involuntarily, fog growing thicker in your brain when you feel the soft cotton of her sweatpants, the tangible warmth of her thighs beneath your cheek. You want to at least try to protest, but then her other hand lands gently on your shoulder, pinning you in place.

Well, you can’t really complain.

But you can’t fall asleep here; there’s a perfectly good bed two feet away. Forcing your heavy eyes open, you’re met with Harry and Sally at the karaoke. They’re blurry, splitting into two, but you persist.

“You a romcom kinda girl, Em?” You slur. You don’t have the energy to speak out her full name; lips growing heavy, you snap off the last two syllables and keep one sweet on your tongue.

The hitch in her breath gives her away. “No.” She says quietly. Combing over your scalp, she scratches against a spot over your ear. Goosebumps break out on your skin.

“This one’s special, though.” Her voice is hushed. Crushed velvet, you think deliriously, wrapping yourself up in the warm comfort of it, “I saw it in the theater the summer before I left for Yale.”

She starts saying something, something about popcorn and the heat and—weirdly—Hotch, but you can’t ask any questions, can’t get your eyes to open after they’ve fallen closed. Emily twirls another strand around her finger and you’re gone, sinking into the darkness of sleep faster than you can stop it.

The last thing you hear is her voice, a golden incandescence in the darkness as she lulls you to sleep.

taglist: @suckerforcate

Reblogs and comments mean the world! Lmk what you thought <3

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #emily prentiss fic #emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss fluff #fic #divider by saradika

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planetdream · 2 years ago

Text

kizaaa omg !! thank you for reading 🥺❤️ i’m so glad u enjoyed it !!!

STRANGE DREAMS !

CHARACTERS ! incubus/demon!hyunjin, reader

GENRE ! horror, smut [minors dni]

WORDS ! 7.8k [more or less]

SYNOPSIS ! sometimes, you meet a strange man in your dreams. this is one of those times.

THIS FIC CONTAINS ! edible-fueled writing. horror [gore—body horror: descriptions of blood and mutilated bodies. frightening figures and situations. description of drowning. nightmares and sleep paralysis. demons, and thus], references to biblical lore [christianity] and small references to milton's paradise lost [if you squint], and smut [dubcon—sexual manipulation and sex pollen, sorta. d/s dynamics—predator versus prey. possession/corruption. vaginal and anal sex. pussy and face slapping. teasing. fingering. spit. squirting. face fucking. degradation. strength kink sorta. sex with a demon—in demon form. monster cock. lots of cum]

⚠️ if you’re sensitive to gore, be advised before reading. i tried to be tame and brief with descriptions, and although i consider it to be light gore, i understand everyone has their limits. so proceed with caution.

💌 posting this earlier than originally planned cuz why not!! got the idea for this fic a year ago after an edible. it’s very weird n self indulgent but i’m glad i finally finished it !! i hope someone enjoys it <3 i always appreciate feedback !!

You’re certain that it’s the sky you’re gazing into—though, you’re unsure because your vision is unclear, a milky haze clouding your pupils—but the longer you look at it, the more it spins and distorts, bringing on nausea that rises in waves from the pit of your stomach to the top of your head. The nausea brings on a discomfort; dryness in your mouth and a straining in your eyes, and because of that, you’re left with no choice but to close your eyes and let your other senses take over. Darkness surrounds you, and it feels like you have risen into the sky, despite grass being beneath you, and it’s soft, comfortable; almost like you could sink deeper into it before reaching the hard, frigid dirt. You grab the blades of grass with a tight fist, tugging on it, but still unwilling to pull it out as if you would cause harm. Then, the grass all around you becomes apparent—alive—moving against your skin in a response back to you. It tickles all over, building the realization that you lay naked in the grass, though unwilling to get up or cover yourself; lost within the pure contentment of the situation.

There is a wave that sways over you—hot, heavy, and harsh, yet not too overbearing in its nature. You don’t know why, but there’s a sense of familiarity about when you are. It’s as if you’ve been here before, a distant memory that both chills and warms you.

Along with the burbling sound of water pouring into itself, the smell of water whisks in the cool breeze—slightly sweet, green and alluring; whistling your name, calling out for you to come over. The whispering is intriguing, full of temptation but slightly melancholic; no words need be said, yet you understand the language of the waters. The whispers are loud, blaring; not in the sense of volume, but by how jarring it is—unlike anything you’ve heard and yet, it’s something you feel so acquainted with, like a long-time friend. The water cries, begging for you to bathe within it or drink from it and promises a sweet taste that could be comparable to honey and lemons.

When you open your eyes again, everything is clear. The plants around you are breathing, communicating through the whistles of the wind; and just like the water, the plants cry out as well. Though, the cries of the flowers and trees are far different from the cries of the water. The cries of the water nearby sing a great harmony of promise and belief, whereas, the cries of the many trees screech of terror and agitation. They warn of what horrors can be witnessed here, of what great dangers are lurking within them. A sweet song of catastrophe. The flowers, however,—with captivating colors unlike anything you’ve ever seen, yet familiar; like the names of them are on the tip of your tongue, begging to be acknowledged and praised—cry differently. It’s a murmur most comparable to the feeling of silk against your hands, but also the feeling of goosebumps after a close encounter with something you shouldn’t have crossed paths with. A comfortable discomfort.

You look around, fully taking in the picture of what presents itself around you. There are butterflies varying in size and species—they sing as well, something similar to a war cry; morbid and haunting, though still beautiful and in great faith. Dragonflies buzz around, securing their place and status within the area. So much life here—at peace in this paradise. There’s some kind of haze or mist in the air, silent and still, tranquil. The sun is bright, blazing hot and practically piercing, yet despite the warmth, the air is slightly cool. The sight of your surroundings further cements your previous feelings of familiarity. Yet it also uncovers sheer discomfort. Yes, the area is familiar, but there’s something unsettling and distinctly different about it. A discomfort layering in the air, horribly beautiful and homely, but pandemonium is lurking, lurched and hidden within the shadows of this seeming paradise.

You roll over in the grass—laying on your stomach and lifting your head to see beyond what you could before. Not too far from your current position is a waterfall, continuing its whispers. The spring below is surrounded by unusual pink flowers and huge rocks covered in thick, green and yellow moss. Before you can process it, you’re on your feet and moving towards the spring. Once there, you kneel, gazing at your reflection in the waters. It’s almost too much to process but it’s you. It is you and yet it’s like the face you wear does not belong to you. Uncanny and off putting.

Movement. On your left, deep in the periphery of the spring. Your eyes shift, tracking whatever chooses to present itself. A swan. Elegant and pristine. It cranes its neck, beak pointing towards you in acknowledgment. You make full eye contact, and a chill runs up your spine causing your hair to stand on edge. An inflamed feeling of danger sparks within you, and before you have time to fight or run as far away as possible—“There you are!”

The voice comes from your right, but when you look in that direction, there’s nothing there. “So this is where you ran off to.”

The physical energy of the presence behind you is familiar, but strikingly overwhelming—it crawls up your skin like sharp nails, giving you goosebumps—you don’t need to turn around to recognize it. It’s Him. You’re unsure of what he is, exactly, but sometimes you meet him in your dreams. Though deep down you know that his existence and connection to you reaches well beyond the odd worlds of your dream realm. When he touches you, your surroundings change. The waterfall that you were once at is yards away, tiny in perspective. Despite having not moved an inch, it seems that every time you blink, you’re further and further into the woods; trees surrounding you and most certain to bury any noises emitted within their leaves.

The rustling of the tree leaves sounds like a screech, almost like sharp nails against a chalkboard—sinking deep and clashing, scraping out the porcelain enamel. The sound alone affects your brain, echoing in your mind, blaring enough to make you hold your hand against your head. The sound stops once he presses his hand against your cheek—so cold it feels like burning fire, almost scalding enough to melt off your skin; but you do not flinch, nor do you back away, frozen in place. The feeling of his skin against yours evokes an emotional aching so deep, you can feel it festering in the pit of your stomach, spreading to your organs and seeping into your veins—and somehow there is comfort in that.

He’s speaking, and while you’re unable to make out the words he is saying, you can tell that his voice is soft, pillowy like a cloud. Honey-laced words dipping from his tongue as if he’s trying to convince or ask something of you. You avert your gaze, unsure of if you actually want to meet his eyes.

His presence scares you just as much as it calms you. Intriguing, and homely but also frightening and domineering despite simply just standing there. Something about his demeanor feels off, or distorted, at the very least, as if he’s not actually in front of you. As if he was a result of your imagination instead of directly in your eyes view. He’s real, a hand against your skin, almost close enough for you to feel his breath lightly against your skin; and at the very least, he knows you. You know him, too, you think; of course, you’ve seen him in your dreams, but you’re inclined to believe you know him from somewhere else.

“Where are we?” You ask him, avoiding eye contact, shaking away from the contact his hand makes with you. Jarringly, it doesn’t feel like you said anything at all. Your mouth was moving and the words presented themselves in your mind and yet you can’t hear a single thing you’re saying. The familiar fire within your throat when you speak is no longer there.

“The Garden. It’s perfect here, isn’t it?” He gives you a small smile, seemingly understanding your indistinct confusion. Then, as he speaks up again, his voice drips with something resembling woe. “You and I used to live here a long time ago. I visit every so often, dip my legs into that spring back there, and then I reminisce on how pure life was back then before…”

You think he’s talking again, but once again, you’re unable to hear him. You’re too busy lost in his face. The urge to press your lips against his gets stronger as you’re next to him. Then you realize he’s naked as well, and your entire body gets warmer. There’s a budding ache inside you that’s all too familiar, growing at a rapid pace. It’s almost like your body is on fire as a result of being within his presence. Hormones floating, hair standing on edge, your more sensual and raw instincts ready to unveil and latch onto him at any time. Head hurting the longer you’re in his presence until it all just stops.

Everything stops. The trees are no longer rustling, birds no longer humming. There’s no splashing of the waterfall nor whistling in the wind. Just pure silence. The silence is uncomfortable, and causes you to stand still in your tracks like a deer, scared that if you make any sudden moves a predator might attack within the blink of an eye; jumping on you and tearing you apart in a bloody mess of flesh and organs flying everywhere, painting the fallen deep green leaves a perfect contrast of crimson.

“Run,” He says. There’s nothing in his voice; no emotion nor a slight hint at what he’s thinking. But the word echoes in your mind, and sends a chill down your spine, causing the hairs on the back of your neck to stand on edge in either curiosity or total blood curdling fear.

“What do you mean?”

“You need to run,” His voice drops lower. “And don’t get caught.”

So you turn your heels and you run, not willing to ask him twice. Unsure of the direction you’re going in, but the further you seem to travel, the more that discomfort begins to settle in the pit of your stomach. You pick up the pace—one foot in front of the other, careful not to trip over yourself—but a small part of you isn’t sure if the danger that you’re sensing is real or just a part of a sick and twisted game. Instead of running away from the source of your terror, it seems as though you’re running towards it, no matter the direction you run. Twigs and leaves snapping and crunching beneath your feet, but it causes you no pain. In fact, the only thing you can feel in the moment is the thumping of your heart and every single milliliter of blood marching through your vessels.

You admittedly don’t make it too far before you’re cowering, ducking against a large tree. Heart racing with such speed that you’re almost positive it would break free of your ribcage, piercing its way out of your chest. The tree, however, as quickly as you found it, is no longer a place of solace, as you hear a long, loud, and deep growl to your left. The deep guttural sound echoing, slicing through the trees like machetes. You’ve got to move, but you fear that if you do, whatever it is that made that sound, might attack, ripping you to shreds before you’ve even got a chance to exhale. There’s a roar once again, this time uncomfortably closer to your hiding place. You stand still, and the surrounding area of the forest is suddenly extremely silent. No rustle of leaves or echoes of birds, but a loud silence accompanied by a buzzing noise; like a horde of flies marching their way towards you.

“Hyunjin,” You call out. The name slips from your mouth with ease, as if you’ve been calling him by that name all along. In the blink of an eye, just as you exhale his name, your surroundings change; suddenly submerged in water.

You emerge from the cold water, barely having time to register your surroundings before you’re being forced back into the water; claw-like hands scraping into your scalp, sharp and heavy against your skull. It’s hard to make your way above the water because of the forceful weight and before you know it, attempting to hold your breath is useless due to the water infiltrating your lungs. You’re flailing and thrashing around, arms lifting—hands curling into a claws, attempting to grab onto something, only to slash through the water—and legs kicking mindlessly, trying to escape what is uncertain; heart rate accelerating as panic fully sets in. This seems to go on for nearly fifteen minutes, being edged by death over and over; blacking out then awakening time and time again. Vision blocked by the salty darkness of the water, ensuring to agitate you with fright, unsure of when it’s all going to end.

Abruptly, you’re dragged upwards by your hair, back falling harshly against rock, helping you cough up the water in your throat. It feels like it takes minutes for you to learn how to breathe again, attempting to do that and calm down enough to assess your surroundings. You’re coughing so much you think you might cough up an intestine, throat burning with each assault, chest sinking and expanding and then sinking again. It takes many moments of coming back to yourself that you notice that there is no rough hand against your scalp. Alarmed, moving around frantically, backing up toward the closest stone wall. Scanning the area, there’s no human nor animal, nor creature of any nature in sight. Not even a single insect. Not even Hyunjin.

You lean over, though not too far in case history repeats itself, to peer into the water; there isn’t even a single fish, as far as you can tell, the waters quickly descending into a vast, black pit of the unknown. Overhead, the sky that was once shining brightly now dimming rather quickly, accompanied by dark, angry clouds. The winds pick up, swirling atop of the trees, emitting a drawn out whistle comparable to wind chimes; of which you can surprisingly hear over splashing and sputtering of the nearby waterfall. Large roars of thunder stomping in, but no lightning accompanies it. You begin to curl into yourself, attempting to shield yourself from whatever is out there, nature or otherwise.

You close your eyes for five simple seconds, and when you open them, Hyunjin is right next to you. He doesn’t notice you’re awake at first until you shift, catching his attention. He turns to you and you avert your eyes from him. He’s talking but it’s all inaudible, unimportant. Something about his presence in this moment is unsettling. Slightly off from the initially odd behavior he’d be exhibiting. You just nod to his words. “Found you like this about an hour ago. You shook so hard until you stopped and fell asleep.”

Hyunjin holds out a hand for you, which you’re hesitant to grab, but the next thing you know, you’re standing slowly; legs shaking as you attempt to regain strength. You hold onto his arm for extra support, slightly struggling in your steps as he leads you, hand in hand, towards a small cave hidden behind the pour of the waterfall. It’s hardly a hike, but Hyunjin makes sure you get to the other size carefully. “The rocks are slippery. You’ve had a few accidents here before.”

A lot of Hyunjin’s words are vague. Referrals to past events involving the two of you, all of which you cannot remember. There’s a feeling that you’ve been here before, but you’re unable to prove it, or make those connections other than your gut feeling and Hyunjin’s comments.

You’re hesitant to walk into the cave, the inside being pitch black. Hyunjin walks in before you, completely fearless, as if there is no potential danger. At the snap of a finger, there’s suddenly a fire going on within the cave. From you place you can see how the fire illuminates Hyunjin’s figure just a bit, and as you walk closer—finding a bit more comfort now that you can see, and because you know Hyunjin is there waiting for you, willing to guide you into and protect you from the unknown—you admire how the flames of the fire accentuates Hyunjin’s facial features. He was made by God, sculpted from the finest clay and molded into an individual with otherworldly beauty. Hyunjin holds a torch-like stick, fire blazing at the tip of it, used as momentary safety. “I know somewhere we can go.”

He then points into the deep darkness of the cave. You don’t want to go deeper into the cave. Right where you stand is just fine, and most importantly, it’s safe. Hyunjin reads the hesitant look that’s displayed on your face, but he urges you. “You’ve got me, there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

And his smile, as beautiful and perfect as it is, seemed crooked, faked for just a moment. He holds out his hand, and without even thinking about it, you take his hand in yours as if you had no choice despite the unease boiling inside of you. His smile curves up again and he turns his head, now guiding you down the cold, dark cave.

The entire time you’re walking, there’s nothing. Hyunjin doesn’t speak and neither do you. The walls on either side all appear the same, dirt colored and oddly smooth, with not even a small crater to make a difference. No matter how long you walk, nor how far, the dark pit continues into nothingness, an upsetting kind of emptiness. Despite Hyunjin being next to you, despite holding his hand, he’s like a stone wall. He makes no effort to speak, nor to even acknowledge you in the slightest despite leading you somewhere, it’s like you’re nothing but a mere bug, nothing to stress about or keep entertained. You feel nothing but loneliness at the pit of your stomach; the only things keeping you company are the thumping of your feet against the ground and the flickering of the flame Hyunjin holds.

It’s a long time of walking before you realize that this cave is actually a tunnel. The tiny white dot of light grows bigger and bigger with every step taken. It feels like forever until you and Hyunjin reach the end of the tunnel. When you do, you’re happy to see light again. The sky now bright and blue, prohibiting any angry clouds of heavy rain. Air fresh and inviting, free of any worry and apprehension. Whatever doubts or dreadful feelings once felt before are now completely an afterthought.

“C’mon let’s go.” Hyunjin discards the torch, dragging you with him by your hand, grip tight against you.

He leads you over to a flower field where flowers ranging in color, size, and species reside. The field is colorful, bright and happy, like a source of glee. Inviting you over by whisper—maybe it’s a honey-filled hum—so sweet and kind. The deeper you walk into the flower field, you notice how enticing the air smells—sweet like a pastry, yet fresh like petrichor. The longer you and Hyunjin walk, hand and hand, the more at ease and loose you feel, almost drunk, mouth welling up with excess saliva. The two of you eventually reach a point to rest, laying on the grass, no words exchanged between you two. Simply just basking in the sun, deeply breathing in the fragrance of the nature that surrounds you.

There’s a passage of time before you start to feel it; an itch that’s tempting you to scratch; a sudden burst in fire. A fire that begins at the pit of your stomach and continues to your core, flaring; spreading further throughout your body in static-like jolts. Your breaths change from relaxed and soft, quiet, to heavy and noticeable; and suddenly the atmosphere feels hotter, small beads of sweat collecting against your forehead. You shift, rubbing your thighs in effort to satiate your sudden cravings, wanting to grind your hips up in search of friction. Growing more desperate and needy by the second.

This is when you look towards Hyunjin, rolling onto your stomach, head resting in your hands as you gaze up at his sitting form; and you actually notice him. You notice his nakedness, every single inch of him on display. He’s like a god, with his honey-like skin that glows and glistens in the sunlight. Toned and defined arm and thigh muscles that flex with nearly every movement he makes. He was meant to be admired, made to be worshiped—having men and women alike kneeling at his feet and imploring him to fuck and defile them. If only you knew how much he agrees. These thoughts almost embarrass you, yet they feel so natural. And your eyes drip lower to admire Hyunjin’s more intimate parts. Cock hanging low, thick, and you’re not too sure if he’s hard or not but he’s big. Mouth watering as you admire his dick: the natural curve to it, how there’s three thick, prominent veins that disperse along his shaft (at least from what you can see at this angle) that are pulsing, just begging for your tongue to roll over them.

You’re pulled away from your fantasy when Hyunjin clears his throat. With an eyebrow raised and a glimmer in his eye, he gives a small smile to you, softly, “You need something from me?”

“Maybe,” You wink at him. You sit up to face him, hand making contact with his knee, fingertips trailing up and down his thigh in a teasing matter. You get a little closer to him, skin against skin, eyes fixated on his cock as your fingertips dance against his inner thigh.

That’s when Hyunjin kisses you, lips soft and plump; and when he presses them against your lips you feel like you're in heaven. At first, your lips barely touch, meeting in small pecks, sweet kisses that eventually deepen into something desperate. The kisses are open mouthed, wet and sloppy, Hyunjin’s tongue makes its way into your mouth naturally, exploring inside of you. The kiss only breaks a few times; when you place your hands flat against Hyunjin’s chest, pushing away slightly just to get air. Each time the kiss breaks, Hyunjin smiles with a small chuckle, licking his lips before leaning in again, forehead pressed to yours.

You break the kiss once more, now focusing more on Hyunjin’s cock. Spitting onto your hand and wrapping it around his shaft, squeezing lightly. Tight fist working up and down Hyunjin’s length, biting your lip when you feel him twitch within your hand. He bites his lip, holding back a moan. Hyunjin stops you before you get too deep into it, instead choosing to take the lead.

Hyunjin plants another kiss to your lips before kissing down your neck, trying his best to take his time to really savor you, but he soon grows impatient. Pushing you down flat against the grass. Quick, wet kisses in several places down your body before he plants one last kiss right above where he really wants to be. There, he wastes no time getting to work, tongue slithering out almost snake-like to lick against your cunt. He really takes in the first taste of his meal, wetness sitting against his tongue, practically melting in his mouth, he moans. He dives in once again, lips and tongue against your cunt, licking and sucking and moaning; fully savoring you.

“Taste so fucking good,” He breathes once to come up for air, not that he actually needs it. Continuing to lap at your cunt, lips kissing and sucking at your clit, moaning into your heat. Hands coming to your thighs to grip, fingernails piercing, spreading you open wider for him.

You grind against his face, hands instinctively going to his hair, fingers tangling within it and pulling with eagerness. Hyunjin groans into you at the slight sting of you pulling at his hair. Tongue not letting up against your clit, following your cunt with every movement you make, not letting you get a break from the feeling of him against you. His mouth domes around your clit, sucking you in, teeth lightly grazing against your bud, momentarily making your back arch. Mid arch, Hyunjin slips two fingers into you. Slight sting as he stretches you out, long digits buried to the knuckles inside of you upon initial thrust.

Soon planting open mouthed kisses against your cunt, fingers working their way in and out of you at an obnoxious pace, curling naturally. Between Hyunjin’s tongue and fingers, in combination with his lips planting kisses against your cunt in between sloppy licks, it’s all too overwhelming. Cunt clenching around his fingers, pulling them in to beg for more, which Hyunjin promptly gives. Fingers fucking into you faster, his other palm pressing down directly against your pelvis.

It’s all too much, but you don’t want it to stop. The feeling of your impending orgasm has you shaking, practically vibrating, unable to brace yourself for it. Tears pooling down the side of your face as you moan out for him. The tips of his fingers repeatedly hit the soft, gushy spot deep inside of you, biting his lip as he watches your face contort. Body stiffening within his hold, unallowed to thrash around, only able to take what he’s giving you. Though unable to completely relax into it, fighting off the feeling of eventual bliss.

Hyunjin lets out a breathy moan at your defiance. Thumb massaging your clit, slowly but surely dragging you further off the edge. Hyunjin finally gets you to relax into his touch, into the feeling of temptation fully engulfing your soul. That’s when it takes over. Your vision blurs, almost going black, mouth agape as you let out cracked moans. Chest getting hot, tightening as you cum, releasing all stress and tension, absolutely melting into this state that makes you feel like you’re floating. Yet your body is only laid out in the grass, legs spread wide for him, as your cunt spills all over his fingers, wetness squirting all over Hyunjin’s forearm and thighs. Tongue desperately trying to lap up whatever he can as his fingers slip away from your cunt. The palm of his hand coming down against your sore cunt once, making you moan out and close your thighs, back arching, pain stinging in the best possible way that leaves you aching for more. Not fully satisfied.

Hyunjin is kneeling over you now, a large hand around his cock. Angry red tip all pretty and glossed with precum that dares to fall onto your skin like delicious raindrops. His cock twitches in his hand, blood rushing, pulsing in the veins that decorate his shaft. It all just makes you think about finally having his cock in you. The burning of the stretch, the feel of him reaching places that haven’t been accessed before, not to mention the feeling of his warm cum filling you up, ounce by ounce.

When Hyunjin pushes into you, you nearly lose your breath, caught in a long inhale. He’s nice enough to push into you slowly, but it’s only because he wants to savor the feeling (though, Hyunjin fully intends to use you however he wants for as long as he pleases). His cock is thick, stretches you beyond anything you’ve experienced before; though instead of being painful, your body is laced, wrapped in pleasure, and the sensation of thrill rushes through your veins. You spread your legs further apart, welcoming more of Hyunijn, hoping that he pushes into you deeper; overcome with desire and want.

“So fucking wet,” Hyunjin pins his cock deeper into you, pulling out quickly, teasingly. “Need more of me?”

You nod frantically, bottom lip slipping away from the clutches of your teeth. When you look up at Hyunjin, his eyes are fixated on your cunt. Tongue peeking out of his mouth, swirling over his bottom lip, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead and into his eyebrow. He’s concentrated, breathing so heavily that he almost begins emitting an inhumane growl, but he dials it back quickly. Instead of pushing all of his length inside of you, Hyunjin pulls out completely, tapping the head of his dick against your cunt, sliding his cock from left to right against your clit. You watch as he does this, listening to the pornographic sound of your wetness, cunt clenching around nothing, just begging to finally be filled.

“Please…” You find yourself begging. Eyebrows strung together as you rock your hips up and down, trying to catch Hyunjin’s cock only for him to move away, preventing you from chasing your pleasure. His hand comes down harsh against your cunt in succession, serving as a warning.

“So cockhungry, can’t you be patient?” Hyunjin continues his tease, repeated light slaps against your cunt with his dick. His cock is replaced by his hand, two fingers dragging down from your clit to your slit, thrusting them into you quickly. Two fingers are replaced by three, and three, by four. He moves quickly, tips of his fingers curled and hitting exactly where you need them. He fucks your moans out of you, reveling in the way that your cries spill out just like the wetness of your cunt, and he’s barely doing anything but fingering you. And you’re this fucked up, melting into his fingers, giving him nearly everything he wants. “Always so pathetic and slutty.”

Agreements slip from your mouth, just in hopes that he’ll give you what you need if you’re good for him. Hyunjin just laughs at you, you’re certainly the cutest plaything he’s had—he knows he’s got to take his time with you. Almost wanting to slip his thumb inside of you as well, Hyunjin decides against it, continuing to fuck you with four of his fingers, still unrelenting in his pace. You, however, are lost for words; taking every ounce of what Hyunjin is giving you. A burning sensation rising in the pit of your stomach, hips rising from the ground, but Hyunjin never stops. Even when you’re leaking all over him, thighs shaking and threatening to close around his arm, he doesn’t stop fucking his fingers into you; not until he’s sure he’s got every ounce from you. Cum dripping down his arm as he takes and takes from you, forcing you to squirt all over him and yourself once again. Sliding his fingers out of you with yet another slap against your cunt.

His hand is around his cock again—wet with your cum, smearing it all over his cock—squeezing at its base as he brings his tip to your entrance. But he teases again, merely slapping his cock against your cunt. You arch into him, grinding your hips against his cock but Hyunjin makes no notice of you and your antics. Eventually getting bored, pulling his cock away from you.

“Kneel,” He speaks curtly, standing. However, you do not move fast enough for his liking. “Don’t make me have to do it for you.”

He does anyway. Grabbing you by the hair, dragging you up and forcing you onto your knees, skin grinding into the grass, sure to have bruises on them. Hyunjin’s hand stays in your hair, tugging as his free hand wraps around his cock. He yanks your head to the side, proceeding to slap his cock against your cheek, precum oozing from the tip.

“Open.” He says, and you promptly follow his instructions. “Looks like I’ve got a smart one.”

Hyunjin spits into your mouth, globs of saliva coating your tongue. His cock closely follows, dipping the tip in and out of your mouth quickly. He shifts, though, choosing to slide his entire length into your mouth, lips closing around him; but Hyunjin doesn’t allow it. Cock sliding out of your mouth, resulting in Hyunjin slapping you on the cheek with it again; saliva and cum sticking to your cheek. “Keep your mouth open wide.”

You adjust for him, just wanting to be able to take him and satisfy his cravings. He slides his cock back into your mouth, fully, giving minimum time to adjust to neither his speed nor his size. Mouth stretched to capacity, jaws aching and burning but Hyunjin is completely relishing in all the gagging and choking you do. You’re getting dizzier the longer his dick is in your mouth, tip kissing, nearly ramming, the back of your throat due to Hyunjin’s pacing. You feel like you’re on fire but yet you’re still able to relax into it. It isn’t long before you start moaning around his cock, absentmindedly rocking your hips back and forth whenever you taste a hint of the salty sweet substance. Hyunjin then pulls out, saliva spilling all over your chin and connecting in tiny stings to his cock. Smacking your cheek with his cock another three times, erupting in a full belly laugh, smiling at the way you’re just a completed fucked out mess, barely registering a thing he’s doing or saying to you.

“Look at that,” Hyunjin releases you from his clutches. He pushes you back by your shoulder, making you catch yourself from falling back with the palms of your hands. When you look down, you’re completely soaked, wetness dripping down your thighs and onto the ground, pooling messily onto a leaf, spilling off of its edges and soaking into the dirt beneath it. “Fucking filthy little mess you’ve made. Cunt just begging to be fucked, huh?”

The question is rhetorical but you still nod; even going as far as to whine a little bit, hips moving seemingly without your control. Hyunjin takes pleasure in this small action, kneeling down to your level. He licks his fingers, noting that he doesn’t need to at all, and swipes them over your clit, one, two times before his ring and middle finger are sliding into your cunt. Fingertips meeting the exact place you need them each time he slides them into you. You’re clenching around his fingers now, and Hyunjin licks his lips, pulling away from you.

“Turn around.” You obey, turning on your hands and knees, swinging your ass in the air. He continues with his teasing, and at this point you’re nearly sobbing, wondering if he’ll ever actually give you what you want. Pathetic chants and whines spilling from your mouth as you push your ass against Hyunjin, unable to control yourself; thinking with your cunt instead of your brain.

Hyunjin spits down onto you, and you can feel the glob of spit slide down from your asshole to your cunt, tickling its way down your clit. Hyunjin, though, slides the head of his cock from your clit, upwards, collecting his spit and your wetness in the process. He teases the tip at the rim of your tight hole, teasing at it. But when you push your ass towards Hyunjin, he pulls away, tsk-ing in the process.

“Silly little play thing,” Hyunjin gives a cold, almost threatening laugh. “I think I need to teach you a lesson on patience, hm?”

The threat has you pleading with him, repeated apologies dancing off your tongue, ultimately not acknowledged. Hyunjin loves to hear the sounds of your begs and pleads, but ultimately, the words you say do not matter to him—it all means nothing. Hyunjin marches at the beat of his own drum, and in situations like this, when he’s got a perfect piece of flesh like you beneath him, everything that he says, goes. And right now, he’s perfectly fine with teasing you over and over and over again.

Slapping his cock against your cunt once, twice, Hyunjin slightly pushes the head of his cock against the rim of your ass. He continues applying pressure, fixated on stretching out the perfectly puckered hole. You whine at the feeling, slowly inching away from it, but Hyunjin holds your hips still. Pushing and pushing, slowly, until finally he slides the head of his cock into your tight hole. Hyunjin moans out at how your hole tightens around him, welcoming him inside. He does nothing, just stays like that, moaning and ignoring your pleas for him to do something. It’s not until you feel the side of his hand brush up against you cunt that you realize Hyunjin has got a hand around his shaft, getting himself off while the tip of his cock is in your ass and you’ve got nothing to do except for lay there and accept it, with your ass in the air and your face against dirt.

His moans increase as he fucks his hand around his cock faster; and if it werent for his other hand holding you in place, you’d at least try to fuck back on him through the stretch of the pain. As Hyunjin exhales, letting out a deep groan of a moan, you feel the rush of warm liquid shooting into you. You moan in response as Hyunjin makes a mess of you with his cum, filling you up, trying to keep it all inside until he pulls out and it all, inevitably, leaks out of your hole, pooling around your cunt.

Hyunjin wastes no time, cock sliding into your cunt with ease due to your wetness and his cum; but the stretch is intense, more than you initially expected. You tighten up a bit, resisting, though you want to relax. You can’t hold your arch perfectly any longer but that’s the least of your worries—the only thing on your mind being cock. Hyunjin slides another inch into you. Maybe it’s because of all the teasing, or the fact that you’ve already cum twice, but he’s not even halfway inside of you and it feels like he’s reached the depths of your soul already. His hand reaches around, fingers coming in contact with your clit in hopes of helping you ease up.

“Created just for me,” Hyunjin breathes out, voice rough with possession. “Made just for me. Only me.”

He continues with his ownership of you, voice dipping deeper as his words become mostly obscenities. You don’t hear it. Or perhaps you can’t hear it. Maybe you don’t want to hear the vile things he’s saying. You’re overtaken, caught up by the intense, high pitch ringing that is worming its way through your ear canal, planting and fertilizing clashing waves of static all around your brain.

His hand wraps around your neck. It feels nothing like the soft, once heavenly hands that had been massaging all over your skin. These hands are rough, calloused and rigid palms that venture into freakishly long, boney fingers; with nails like claws that pierce into the side of your neck right behind your ear. Your eyes remain closed, fearing that if you open them that you’ll see something you shouldn’t, something that your mind would be unable to comprehend visually. A feeling of spiritual discomfort crawls up your back, causing you to arch, shivering at the same moment Hyunjin works his cock deeper into you, stretching you further; mentally and physically—of which he insists on doing, wanting to bend you to his will and break you beyond anything you’ve experienced.

Hyunjin pulls you back to him, hips unrelenting. Teeth, sharp like razors, piercing down into the flesh of your shoulders; nearly enough for blood to start trickling down your skin, but that does not occur. His teeth, however, do leave indents in your skin; that, if he’s lucky enough, will be permanent. His lips meet your ear next, a brief kiss planted to the lobe before whispering in a rather gruff voice, unlike that of his usual. “Inferior to me. Mine to claim.”

When he cums there’s an immense amount of it, sticky and warm. Hyunjin makes sure to be fully buried inside of you, cock seemingly swelling in size as he forces you to take all his cum inside. Hyunjin is selfish, not waiting a single moment, and barely pulling out before he begins to thrust back in. Cum coats his cock, almost daring to drip onto the ground in raindrop-like shapes. He refuses to allow that, however, fucking all of his cum back into you. His thighs, which originally felt like the silkiest, softest flesh, now coarse and dry—except for the sticky cum running down them, connecting in slightly thick, white lines against your thighs—and fuzzy; thick. “Mine to possess.”

You slowly come to realize that Hyunjin has taken a different shape completely. No longer possessing the body of a man, he has turned into some kind of beast, something inhuman. He’s grown abnormally in size and you can tell because he’s holding you up as he fucks you, toes barely scraping the dirt.

And as filthy and as frightening as it is, the line between fear and arousal is a very thin, blurry line. It leads you to come crashing down, partially due to the overstimulation, cunt spasming around Hyunjin’s cock, sucking in all his cum. You’re elated, completely delighted, mind elsewhere as you experience your high with Hyunjin fucking you through it. Hardly registering anything other than the feeling of Hyunjin’s cock stretching you out and the warmth of his cum—a sticky mess that’s leaking out both of your holes and staining your thighs.

When you come to, you’re laying on Hyunjin’s chest. It’s still daylight out, the sun beaming as bright as ever, nearly blinding when you open your eyes. It takes a few moments to shake away the pure, drowsy euphoria you’re feeling, completely ravished by bliss; almost hypnotized. You prop your head up to look at Hyunjin, and the moment you do, it’s like there are trumpets sounding off all around you. You have a realization—no, a revelation—that things aren’t as they seem as you peer up at the brown-haired man. As queasiness makes a home in the pit of your stomach, all within two mere seconds, the wind picks up; howling in the distance, bustling within the branches of trees.

“This is a dream, isn’t it?” For what might be the first time, your eyes meet his.

What words can be used to describe what you saw when you looked into the eyes of that thing? Petrifying? Nauseating? Surreal? It makes you want to close your eyes, however, when you do, the images you’ve seen seem as though they’ve been permanently printed against the black of your eyelids. Perhaps you can attempt to run away—and hide, praying to God that you’re not stalked and caught—but your muscles don’t respond to the neurons being sent by your brain. Perhaps you can find a way out of this dream, but your physical body seemingly refuses to acknowledge the call to wake up; only processing the utter fright in the images it created. The only thing you can do is stare into Hyunjin’s eyes, continuing to receive visions of which you hope you’ll be able to forget.

His irises are a deep pool of black, displaying a particular flavor not only of loneliness but utter wickedness. The longer you stare into Hyunjin’s eyes the longer you are disillusioned, fully snatched away from all delusion of this former fairytale. Vision clouded by a thick, murky fog; fully spotlighting the shocks of visions you see in his eyes.

A beast, creature unlike anything you’ve ever seen or imagined. The face of a man only oddly elongated with empty eye sockets and horns—covered in blood that only makes a mop of its fine hair—curled up into two spikes atop his head. A smile so wide it’s like it was carved in with a razor blade and charred, blackened and blood stained fangs hanging from its mouth. Its body, with its abnormally long limbs, is completely drenched in blood, dripping in pools all around the entity. Pieces of what you can only assume is a human—or even worse, you—discarded and littered around it without much thought or care.

Flesh. Human meat. Limbs and bones and the insides—intestines, livers and hearts and muscle—all around you as this vision becomes reality; suddenly finding yourself within one meter of this monstrosity. The pool of blood coming up to your ankles, rising steadily. Pieces and pieces of the now deceased all around you, entirely mangled and minced. The creature holds pieces of meat within its claws, sharp nails piercing into the gray flesh, bits of meat stuck between its teeth as it tears into its victim.

It is feeding.

The situation becomes all the more frightening when the creature raises its head towards you. Despite it being eyeless, you know that you’re making eye contact, getting lost within the empty abyss that seems to be staring into the corners of your spirit. It’s wide smile never fading as it lurches, sprinting towards you faster than the blink of an eye.

The transition from the dream world to the waking world is surreal, almost jarring. Especially since when you awaken, you’re paralyzed, body stiff with static crawling all over your skin. The darkness of your bedroom surrounds you, both familiar and completely unknown. You attempt to move around a little, opening and closing your eyes multiple times, attempting to raise at least a finger; though falling short of progress to escape this feeling, left to stare straight up at your ceiling.

Then there’s the boom. A loud, static-like noise; deep as if something really heavy had dropped—but you’re unsure if it’s coming from the dark corner on your right or elsewhere within your home. A thing that simultaneously occurred and did not happen. The speed at which fear rises within you is faster than the speed of light. Heart racing as the physical manifestation of dread drops to the bottom of your stomach—fear making its home in the back of your throat, tightening as your swallow, seemingly making it difficult to breathe. It consumes you, a heavy burden, too insufferable to support, unable to put up a fair fight against it.

Don’t Look.

Curiosity gets the best of you. You shift your eyes to the right and in the far corner of the bedroom is a space that’s significantly darker than anything else in the room; like a void. Perhaps it’s because the light from your plug-in air freshener doesn’t reach that area of the room. And perhaps you’re tired and still reeling from that strange dream, but you swear you see movement as you glance over. You want to look away, you have to look away, but curiosity sinks its claws into you. Hypnotizing and you're paralyzed with fear of what could happen. Then, the darkness in the corner grows, getting larger as if whatever it is has been expanding, standing up to greet you.

Then it disperses. Leaving you alone, shaking and sweating in the cold, unwelcoming darkness of your room, finally able to move and process things.

#‘…it truly felt like lucid dreaming.’ aaaaaaa that’s such a compliment omgomg #sooo glad people like the sky cause i was STRUGGLING fr #literally feel like i forgot how to write smut like #tysm do the feedback on this 🥺❤️#re: strange dreams

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