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forlix · 4 months

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‧ ❆ ˚ 𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐲 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝・h.j.

— stars flare brightest in the absence of light, and you see his clearer than day.

words・6.4k

pairing・han jisung x female reader

genres・college!au, friends with benefits to lovers, snowed in trope, smut, MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS THAT INTERACT WILL BE BLOCKED, angst, ANGST, you have been warned, hurt/comfort, i can't write normal fluff to save my life, happy ending!!!, semi-slow burn

warnings・depictions of insomnia, recurring nightmares, graphic violence, character death (in the nightmare), fears of abandonment and falling in love, alcohol consumption, humans helping each other heal. smut warnings under the cut

playlist・stay - acoustic by jonah baker・all of me by big gigantic・babydoll (speed) by ari abdul・oasis by exo・volcano by han

a/n・hi, here's my second installment of winter falls. writing this was immensely challenging and twice as meaningful, so feedback would be greatly appreciated. thank you to my may for being so fucking instrumental in piecing together this rollercoaster—this one is for you, i love you. thanks to my sahar for everything, always and forever. and thanks to all of you for being here. happy new year ♡

smut warnings・spitplay, unprotected piv, please practice safe sex!!!, car sex, dirty talk, jisung's dick game is kinda crazy, squirting, lots of aftercare

Every time Jisung closes his eyes, he sees somebody’s back.

It’s leaving. Traipsing somewhere he can’t follow. He tries to chase it—he always does, he never learns—but the premise doesn’t so much as surface before the ghosts circling around his ankles go for his throat instead. They snare him by the shoulders, force him to his knees, slam his forehead into the permafrost hard enough to break bone. They make sure the next time he tries to move will be the last.

So he remains, keeled over in the cold, until tearwater clings to his lower lashes in small icicles. Until bloodstained snow coats his lips like the manifestation of a curse. Until the back has disappeared.

Who does it belong to? He’s left to wonder. Where is it going?

Why can’t I follow?

Then he wakes up.

No longer does he lay awake for hours afterwards, scouring the dream’s every frame for his answers.

Now, he tosses and turns in clammy sheets until his exhaustion wins.

Now, he welcomes sleep like a miracle granted by some pitying god.

You see him.

Through a living room packed with red-faced partygoers and dissected by oscillating strobe lights, albeit, but you see him anyways.

Jisung can barely make out the rest of your face—he blames the lighting, or the soju, or both—but your eyes alone turn him to glass. Not a fancy vase through which the world distorts, but a simple pane that puts him and his ghosts on full display.

He hopes you like horror movies.

Felix knows you, because of course he does, and Jisung has never been happier to call the extroverted Australian his friend than when you come over to say hi. You stumble out of the crowd all smudged makeup and sweaty skin, your figure hugged by a short black dress with two diamond-shaped openings just above your hips, your glossy lips curved in a drunken smile. Jisung immediately wants it against his mouth.

Instead, it disappears behind his friend as you pull him into a quick hug. A few wisps of your hair dust over Jisung’s arm, momentarily replacing the smells of grease and vodka with cherry blossoms and vanilla.

“Lix, hey!”

“Darling, it’s good to see you! Feels like it’s been ages.”

“I know, right? How are you? How is everything?”

“Good, thank you. Just happy the semester’s over.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Then you go to lift your drink and discover thin air in its place. “Or I won’t. Whoops.”

This prompts Jisung’s first contribution to the conversation—and his first effortless laugh in a long while.

“Eventful night, huh?”

He meets your gaze from all of two feet away this time, and his knees buckle under him. That gaze, fuck. So clear and true, like a prism of glass refracting light into a rainbow. He would let you refract him a thousand times over if he had any light to give.

“Maybe,” you giggle. “Seems I’m a little too happy the semester’s over.”

“Wanna not get a drink to celebrate?”

Your expression flickers. Not in a bad way, more like you hadn’t expected him to ask so soon—or for yourself to have your answer so quickly.

A strobe light catches right under your eye and refracts the color in your blushing face. A rainbow.

“I’d like that.”

He tilts his head towards the kitchen. You give Felix’s elbow a light squeeze before moving past him; he gives Felix a glimpse of his growing smile before falling into step behind you. The blonde shakes his head, throws back the rest of his beer, then swivels at the sound of someone calling his name from across the foyer.

Felix will get drunk enough to forget the sight of you leading Jisung up the stairs, two bottles of pink lemonade tucked under your arm. Nothing stronger, as promised.

Jisung asks his question an entire minute after he intends to. “Where are we going, by the way?”

“Somewhere I can see your pretty face without having to squint,” you reply, and his stomach tumbles like a schoolboy with a valentine.

You don’t stop at the second floor. Instead, you nudge open a door Jisung swears just materialized to his left and emerge into the night air.

It’s warm for December, but he’s still met with chilly winds licking down the sides of his neck. That’s not the only reason he shudders, though. Below his feet, he finds a metal platform akin to that of a fire escape. Above his head, a staircase that looks one forceful step away from dropping off the side of the building.

You turn towards it.

In a hurry, he sputters, “I’m, uh—I’m not sure about this.”

A beat passes. Your hold on his wrist loosens, not to let go, just to trace wordless reassurance down the back of his hand. Your fingers feel perfect sliding into the spaces between his, like drops of honey in the craters of soufflé pancakes.

“It’s safer than it looks, I promise.”

Jisung heaves a sigh. It seems saying no to you is an impossible task.

You’re right, though. The iron rungs are surprisingly rigid beneath his feet, and the two of you make it to the roof with no trouble. He does stumble when you pull him up onto the gravel, but it’s intentional, a purposeful blunder to have you closer. To snag another glimpse of that blush, another trace of that floral vanilla.

“Sorry,” he whispers almost directly upon your lips. And that earns him all three.

The next hour evades him for the most part, and Jisung is pissed about it. He’s with the woman of his dreams under a sky so clear it’s almost lustrous and he’s too shitfaced to recollect when he gave you his hoodie to wear; what you said that made his lungs capsize with how hard he laughed; how you ended up so close to each other, your legs strewn over his lap, his hands tracing over your thighs.

Thankfully, he remembers a few things. He remembers how frighteningly easy you are to talk to; he remembers your habit of smacking his stomach when you get flustered; he remembers you getting flustered a lot. He remembers the timbres of your different laughs and how your stunning features crinkle with each. He remembers feeling like a pane of glass in front of you, just like he had downstairs, and he remembers liking it, somehow. Liking the way you see through him, the way you allow him to just exist as he is. Liking the way you acknowledge his ghosts with such nonchalance, inviting them over for tea and biscuits.

He wants to remember everything about you.

It’s not often he wants to remember anything.

Eventually, your conversation comes to a natural close. In its absence, Jisung notices that the alcoholic sludge in his brain has largely diffused; with it, the rumbling bass of the party below. The full moon hangs at its highest point, blanketing the two of you with anticipatory silence, nudging you towards the only topic you’ve yet to breach.

He meets your gaze again, from all of two inches away this time, and his insides twist.

“You’re still drunk, aren’t you?”

You blink at him, not following. Then he leans his forehead against yours, lets his eyes flicker to your mouth with such unbridled want that you’re instantly dizzy—and no longer confused.

Regret pools in your eyes moments before they close. “Yes, I think so.”

Your lips are so, so close that he can feel the air shift between you when they move, can feel the soft warmth emanating from them. Jisung pulls away before he does anything stupid.

You do the stupid thing for him.

You push his shoulders to the plaster behind him, push yourself onto his lap with a swing of your body and a slotting of your legs on either side of him.

The plush of your thighs hugging his hips, the curves of your breasts pressed against his chest, Jisung tries to stare up at you, perplexed, aroused. But you’re so close that he can’t, so he settles with whispering upon the underside of your chin, “what are you—”

“Gimme your lemonade.”

The authoritative words come out in a slurred haze, and he all but hastens to oblige.

You pluck the plastic bottle from his wavering grasp. His empty hand hovers as if uncertain where to go. But matters as trivial as hand placement drop off his mind’s precipice as he watches you unscrew the cap, the slope of your neck illuminated by spindly moonlight, and without thinking he pushes his hands beneath the hem of your—his—hoodie.

The skin of your waist is warm and smooth where his fingertips are cold and calloused, the juxtaposition unimportant in your reciprocal desires to touch and be touched.

“Open,” you murmur.

His jaw goes slack, firstly from pure disbelief. Then, obedience. The dark locks that obstruct his vision of you fall away as his head meets the brick half-wall behind him, as if the midnight breeze itself mandated their removal.

You pour some of the pink liquid past Jisung’s parted lips. Stray rivulets slip down his cheek and vanish beneath his neckline. You break eye contact to follow their path with dilated pupils and fluttering lashes. With unadulterated desire.

He swallows, gently, and feels the sweet substance surround his tonsils.

He swallows, forcefully, when you wrap your lips around the bottle, the plastic still slathered in his spit.

The swig you take is long, deep. Your throat bobs and your eyes close as if you’re savoring a finely-aged nectar. Then your lips are popping off the opening with a soft thwock, leaving a thick strand of saliva to suspend, suspend, suspend until the very second it’s about to drop, which is when you collect the residue with a deft swipe of your tongue.

“A placeholder,” you breathe, and Jisung’s head careens. A shared bottle. An indirect kiss.

“You’re a monster,” he croaks.

You giggle and lean down, curling a hand around his cheek, pressing a wet kiss to his Adam’s apple.

“Tomorrow, if we’re both sober…”

One, two, three pecks up the length of his jaw.

“...and you still remember my address…”

A suckle to the lobe of his ear.

“...you can kiss me, for real.”

A trembling breath.

“And then some.”

Jisung moans, loudly.

Thankfully, he remembers a few things.

He shows up at your place shortly after sunset the next day. You swing open the door, your face already alight with your world-ending smile.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

Then he’s kissing you like a man famished.

Jisung learns to love your back, that night. He loves its dips and curves, loves its rise and fall. Loves how it arches into him, how it looks drenched in his cum. It’s the back of his dreams.

The back in his dreams keeps walking.

Jisung has never liked winter.

He has never liked its winds, whispering woefully as if mourning something unnamed and unseen. He has never liked its palette, whitewashing the world as if refracting a rainbow in reverse.

He has never liked cracking open his eyes and seeing the scenery of his nightmare outside his window. Nor does he like trudging over the sleet as if weighed down by the same ghosts that break him time and time again in his dreamscape. They love winter.

And this winter, he swears, is the bitterest yet. On the nights when he’s allowed to sleep, the nightmare comes in such sharp relief that he thinks he’d rather anything else, the ghosts meaner, the blood redder, the silhouette slower. It’s an act of mercy when he’s still awake by the time bleached sunlight perforates the curtains, resting upon his salted cheeks and balled fists.

This winter, it is not just dislike that he feels towards the gray winds—it’s hatred. A maelstrom of loathing so large and dark that Jisung no longer knows where it’s headed or what it’s directed to. Or who.

When winter break comes to an end, he’s probably the only person who’s happy about it.

His friends certainly aren’t, looking like a line of angry nutcrackers with their folded arms and thunderous faces standing outside Greem Cafe.

Jisung calls out a greeting as he jogs towards them, and cue the grumbling.

“What is there to smile about? Enlighten us.” That’s Hyunjin. “I have to deal with four finals and three essays in the next five days and this guy is smiling.”

“He’s accepted his fate, I reckon.” That’s Felix. “We should do the same, boys. Let ourselves down easy, y’know?”

“No, no, he’s smiling because he remembered to bring me his chem notes.” That’s Jeongin. “You did, right? Please say you did.”

Jisung is stunned into silence. “Can I not be happy to see my friends?”

“No,” Hyunjin and Felix reply in unison.

“My bad,” he sighs.

“My notes,” Jeongin repeats.

“I have them, dude. Let’s sit down first.”

The younger boy shouts an impassioned “THANK YOU” at the sky like the clouds just saved his GPA. Jisung reaches for the door to the café, then stops at the sound of Felix’s voice.

“We’re waiting on one more person.”

He turns towards the blonde with puzzled eyes. He’d been under the impression the study session would comprise just them four.

“Who?”

Felix’s response falters on his tongue when he catches sight of something in the distance, and his face changes in a way Jisung’s seen before.

“Look behind you.” Felix shuffles past him, raising his voice to shout, “yo!”

Jisung glances away from the newcomer as quickly as he sees her. It’s not until his eyes pivot to the fire hydrant across the street that he processes her identity.

In one second flat, his mind clutters full. He thinks back to that party, when all it took was the sight of your smile for him to theorize you were the most exquisite thing ever made. He thinks back to the next evening, when he kissed you and verified his hypothesis. He thinks back to what followed and would continue to follow in the few days that remained before break: entwined tongues and emblazoned hickeys, whitened knuckles and whiny praise, snapping hips and shaking bedframes.

This winter, Jisung swears, is the bitterest yet.

But seeing you, the scarf wound multiple times around your neck doing nothing to hide your gorgeous smile, feels like catching a fragment of summer in his frozen hands.

“Thank god,” Felix groans before embracing you. Collapsing on you, more like. “I’m saved.”

You reach around to pat the boy on the back, your eyes brimming with laughter. “Lower your expectations, please. I did well on one exam.”

“You aced the midterm. That automatically makes you a rocket scientist,” Felix corrects, his voice muffled into the shoulder of your coat. A few beats of silence pass. Then, “this is comfy.”

“Okay, okay, let’s go get some caffeine in you,” you giggle. “We have a lot of ground to cover today.”

Felix straightens up sleepily. And sadly. “Superb.”

Jisung hangs back as you introduce yourself to Hyunjin and Jeongin. He doesn’t even notice his growing smile until you’re standing directly in front of him and for the first time in three weeks there’s the smell of cherry blossoms in the air and a rainbow shining on his face again.

“Hi,” he offers.

“Hey,” you reply.

Hyunjin is the one to shatter the prolonged silence that follows. “Are you guys betrothed?”

Felix and Jeongin stalk into the café snickering. You and Jisung trail behind with flaming cheeks.

It takes Jisung two and a half hours to talk to you again. At that point in the afternoon, Felix is napping on the second practice test you’ve given him; Hyunjin has downed three shots of pure espresso and is currently viewing his screen with concerning intensity; Jeongin is at another table on a quiet Zoom call with his chemistry T.A., Jisung’s notes clutched to his chest like a life vest. And you’re leaning back against your seat opposite to him, scrolling through your phone in what he presumes to be a well-deserved study break. As good a time as any.

He opens up his texts with you. His fingers fly across the keyboard.

Jisung: do you have plans after this?

Your eyes stutter to the top of your screen, linger there for a moment, and lock onto Jisung’s from across the table.

He presses his lips into a thin line to suppress his smile. You let yours spill over in full form, and with it comes a soft giggle that would be worth getting his number fucking blocked just to hear one more time.

Three gray dots appear before elongating into a prompt response.

Y/N: I was gonna ask you the same thing…

He’s the one who laughs this time. Fuck, you’re cute. You’re so cute.

Jisung: can i take you to dinner? Y/N: Yes, I’d love that :) Y/N: When should we leave? Jisung: 9? Y/N: Sounds good~ Jisung: cool Jisung: it’s a date Y/N: It’s a date! Y/N: Excited 💛

With that, you put your phone face down and return to work, though your lips remain privately upturned. Jisung wants to kiss them again.

He also wants to turn you into a mess on his cock again.

Or both.

He doesn’t get much studying done after that thought surfaces.

Jisung: me too <3

When nine o’clock rolls around, you and Jisung begin cleaning up your work stations in near-perfect simultaneity. There’s confusion written all over Hyunjin’s and Jeongin’s faces as they watch you swing your backpacks over your shoulders—but Felix’s expression is a blank slate as he sips from his macchiato. Your ingenuity isn’t the only reason he invited you today.

As you make your way out of the café, your shoulders brush once, twice, and then Jisung drops his hand into the space between the two of you without uttering a word. You scoop it up in your own without missing a beat.

He steps into the freezing night feeling warm all over.

“You know what I realized?” You say as you walk towards his SUV.

“What did you realize?”

“We’ve never had a sober conversation before. Can we change that tonight?”

Jisung has broken hearts before.

There’s no euphemistic way to describe his tendency to abuse the sensitive organs, to wring them out and throw them away like irrelevant trash. To juggle and drop them with a sheepish laugh like they’re nothing more than props in a circus act.

He doesn’t do it to save himself or his partners from getting hurt or any self-ingratiating bullshit like that. It’s for himself, all for himself. All to unload his balls and his mind for fifteen blissful seconds.

There’s blood on his hands. He never cared to wash it off.

Except you are the one asking for his heart this time around, a dash of hope in your smile as you do so, and he thinks it would be his life’s greatest honor to be discarded by you.

“Sure,” he answers.

He doesn’t even last until he’s inside the car.

Your back meets the door to the passenger’s seat, guided there by his hands on your hips. From millimeters away he watches your surprise morph into understanding, then darken into lust.

“I like when we don’t talk, though.”

It’s the most annoying thing in the world to remove so many layers in such a cramped space.

Combined, your clothing forms a tower high enough to block out the driver’s window completely. An unnecessary blockade.

The glass fogs up anyways.

“Fuck, Ji, yes, right there, oh my god.”

You have your legs spread open and the back of your neck digging into the cupholder on the door. It’s not comfortable. You’re too busy getting fucked open to care.

Jisung detaches his lips from your neck to ask, “here, baby?”

The head of his cock hits that gummy spot again, harder, sweeter. You convulse, your hand scrambling for purchase in his raven locks.

“Yes, yes, yes, don’t stop, please.”

Please. The word plays over in his fuzzy mind.

It seems saying no to you is an impossible task.

His cock slips out of you and you lament the loss of contact with a high wail.

“W-why’d—where’d you go?”

He can’t help but chuckle at how incoherent you’ve become. He cradles the back of your head with a tender hand and lowers your upper body onto the leather seat, adjusting himself to your new elevation.

“Right here, beautiful. Didn’t go anywhere—promise—”

He expels the final word through gritted teeth as he slams into you again, and the new angle is glorious. Your bodies keen in flawless harmony. Profanities tumble from his lips in a steady stream before they turn back into syllables.

“Would never go anywhere. Would never leave without making this pretty pussy cream like it deserves—holy fucking shit, baby.”

You clench around him at his words and then he’s setting a new, relentless rhythm, rocking the whole vehicle with every hearty smack of his hips against yours, your wet walls squeezing him so dreamily he thinks he sees nirvana with every thrust.

You’re enjoying it just as much, if the bubbles of spit in the corner of your mouth are any indication, and Jisung is viciously proud to be the cause. Unbelievably lucky to feel your breasts jiggling under his chest and your nails digging into the back of his neck.

“Good?” He whispers, and you nod blissfully.

“So—good, Ji, so fucking good. Your cock is perfect, fuck, I can’t even—can’t even think.”

“You’re the perfect one. Can’t believe how well your cunt takes me, shit. It’s like it was fucking made for this.”

“It was,” you breathe, and he nearly shoots his load into you at this alone. “It was, it was—oh, god, I think—think I’m gonna come—”

“Do it,” he rasps. “Come for me. Come on this cock and it’s yours.”

“R-really?”

“Really.”

“Then, I will. I’ll come on your cock—make it mine. Need it so fucking bad, I’m so fucking close, oh—please—”

He anchors himself in place with a hand against the windowsill and the other travels down your body to rub fast, tight circles into your clit. You let out a wanton, prolonged moan, tilt your head back to expose him to your fluttering throat. And then you’re pulling his lips onto yours again, and the following kiss is sloppy beyond belief, the kind that can only antedate the happiest of endings.

“My cock,” you sigh into his mouth. “Mine.”

“Forever,” is the breathy response he doesn’t know if he means, the response he gives you anyways.

And then you curl your fingers in his hair. Clamp your teeth around his lower lip. Clench your thighs around his waist. There’s liquid everywhere. Tearwater spilling down the sides of your face. Release gushing all over his dick and pelvis and backseat.

He catches up the moment he realizes what’s just happened. Pulls out of you. Presses his head against the roof of his car. Spits on his hand. Pumps his pulsating cock. Sends himself over the edge you’ve just finished tripping over.

Eventually, he regains feeling in his limbs.

He opens his eyes, surveys the damage, and grins.

Your stomach is covered in ropes of white, your expression hidden behind your hands. You start shaking your head in profuse embarrassment the moment you feel his eyes on you.

“You squirted,” he says.

“I know,” you almost yell, and his grin erupts into a laugh.

He lowers himself back over you, takes your wrists, and removes them from your blushing face. He doesn’t think he’s seen you so flustered before and it has him palpitating in ways he never thought feasible.

Maybe he did mean the damn thing after all.

He pushes off the strands of hair clinging to your damp forehead and replaces them with a gentle kiss. “It was sexy as fuck and you’re everything.”

There’s a certain softness in your eyes when he pulls away. He hopes, for your sake, it’s all in his head.

His car is in need of aftercare most of all. You shrug on your clothes with considerable effort and get to work, all while sharing comfortable chatter and easy laughter.

Those things persist during your dinner date at a nearby Chinese restaurant and the drive back to your place, which Jisung knows well enough to no longer need his GPS. Those things persist until he kisses you goodbye on your doorstep, because he would have to be fucking crazy not to after you gave him the best night he’s had in so long.

After you reminded him that he’s still capable of comfort and ease, in spite of it all.

Snow comes a few weeks into the new year.

This winter, it falls late, and it falls hard, like a gust of breath expelled from drawn lungs at the very last minute. Held there as if lying in wait for something unnamed and unseen.

The gust of breath is too quiet to be heard over the one Jisung lets out against the shell of your ear. “Wait here.”

He goes to roll off you. You don’t let him just yet, darting your hand around his wrist and bringing his face back within centimeters of yours.

Han Jisung is beautiful. You knew it for the first time at that houseparty and you’ve known it every hour of every day since. But it’s always clearest to you in the afterglow, when his bare skin is golden and sticky and his delicate lips bitten to bright fuchsia.

When his irises have gone black and you see stars, flaring in the absence of light.

You close the distance that remains between you. Your lips part with a content sigh. Your hands drift over the slant of his neck; his find home in the dips above your waist.

He breaks away once you’re both out of breath, and the pad of his thumb wipes lightly at your lower lip.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes,” you reply shyly. “I couldn’t help myself.”

The smile this brings to his face reminds you of a candle’s flame. Soft on the eyes and scalding to the touch when he presses it back against your lips. Once, twice.

“Can you wipe your cum off me now?” You whisper, and he laughs straight into your mouth.

The mattress lifts. His footsteps grow quieter. You shiver in his absence.

Only then do you notice the blizzard.

You stumble off the bed to throw your curtains aside. Snow descends from the sky like spools of unraveling yarn. The streetlights have been reduced to foggy specks, the parked cars to blurry heaps. Every sidewalk and rooftop in sight has already been slathered in ivory.

Jisung announces his return with a disbelieving whistle.

“Am I dreaming?” You murmur.

“When did that happen?”

“I have no idea.”

You don’t even notice the wild smile on your face until you turn to him and catch his reaction to it. He looks like he’s asking himself the same question.

“C’mere,” he hums, and you oblige.

He laves the warm towel over your breasts and stomach, as well as the places his release has trickled since you flung yourself to your feet. All while supporting the small of your back with a touch fatally careful, an expression wholly adoring. All evidence of just how blurry the line between sexual escapade and lover has become in two short months.

Your ribcage fucking throbs.

“You don’t seem excited,” you say.

He finishes cleaning you off. You give him a distracted thank you, noticing the sudden shadow draped over his face like a netted veil.

“I’m not,” he answers, not unkindly.

“You don’t like snow?”

“Not really.”

“Why?”

He circles around the bed to get dressed. You bend to pick up the clothes tossed aside earlier and drop them into your hamper, then slip into a clean pair of underwear and sweatpants.

“It’s a long story.”

Just as you reach for a top, a bundle of cloth travels in an arc across your bedroom and hooks itself around the crook of your arm. His T-shirt.

You glance at Jisung. He’s already looking elsewhere, but his private smile makes its way onto your face as you slip it on.

“Well, I have time.” You sink into your mattress, now surrounded by his muted musk, his papyrus and petrichor. “We’ll be stuck here a while, after all.”

“Stuck?” Jisung repeats, the lanyard of his car keys dangling from the pocket of his hoodie, his feet turned towards the door.

A pregnant pause commences. His intentions dawn, and you gape.

“You’re not driving right now.”

He breaks eye contact.

“Right?”

That was the plan, you read in his expression.

You know better than trying to reverse a river’s current by kicking up rocks. You know better than trying to curtail the flight of an albatross by clipping its wings.

You know better than asking someone who thinks he was made to leave to stay.

And you won’t.

“I have somewhere to be early tomorrow morning,” he stammers, the lines terribly rehearsed. “The snow’s not heavy, I’ll be—”

“Stay.”

You’re not asking.

Jisung looks at you, startled, as you glide across the bed. You place your feet on the hardwood and circle your arms around his waist. Lace your fingers upon the hollow of his back. His pulse goes uneven at your abrupt proximity.

Akin to the drag of a feather, you mouth at his cheek, then the side of his neck.

“You can stay, Jisung.”

He shudders at your words, and you’ve got him.

It’s oddly normal, the sight of him clambering into your bed in your clothing—a pair of old sweatpants and your favorite crewneck—like this isn’t the first time you’re sleeping together in your two months of sleeping together.

In fact, the only indication of anything unordinary is the floaty feeling in your stomach when your head hits the pillow and discover Jisung’s face only inches away. He drapes an arm over your waist, gathering you close. You nuzzle into the crook of his neck.

The inevitable question follows.

“Can I save the story for another time?”

“Sure,” you return, keeping your voice small. He doesn’t hear your disappointment this way. “Should we go to sleep, then?”

“We should.”

Your foreheads touch. Your noses bump together. Your eyes cross, watching the adoration pull at his. You dimly register your hand threading in his fluffy locks, his thumb running over your cheekbone. Your lashes narrowly miss the surface of his eyes, and then he tips your face up by millimeters.

You don’t remember when you fall asleep. You only recall the hour beforehand that you spend with Jisung’s lips traversing yours, like you are the ocean and he’s uncovering new waters with every bruise he prints against your throat, every suckle he leaves around your tongue.

In your dream, the roles reverse and you are the one exploring him, mapping out his constellations with wide-eyed wonder.

You wake to a black hole.

For the first five seconds, you see nothing. You hear nothing. You feel nothing. You only blink in the darkness, your mind kicking into groggy gear to ask the very good question of why you’re conscious again.

Instinct moves your hand across the mattress. Empty space greets you where Jisung should be. Unfounded dread shoves your back off the bed. You gasp, the sound seeming to echo in the cavernous silence.

Your eyes adjust enough to discern light in the crack beneath your door, and you’re wide awake.

The following events go by in a blur. You stumble out of bed and into your closet, fastening your fingers around the thickest piece of fabric you find. You fly into the living room, where the lamp by the couch is left on and the pair of worn black Converse on your doormat have gone missing.

The front door is cracked open, and through the narrow inches you spot someone hunched on the stairs outside, his dark hair dyed platinum by the awning light’s fluorescence.

Your heart stills in relief, then quickens with anxiety.

You’ve tried wearing this crewneck in January enough times to know you can’t. In fact, you suspect that it somehow soaks up the temperature, lets it seep in between its every seam until it becomes one with the bitter winds.

But he isn’t shivering, you notice as you take a seat next to him, draping the puffer over both of your shoulders on your way down. He’s simply staring off into the bleak storm, snowflakes sitting atop his head like a coating of ash, their color matching that of his frozen skin. He’s becoming one with the bitter winds.

At first, you don’t recognize the man in front of you.

You’re well familiar with those ring-laden hands and the whetted jawline thrown into shadow, those remnants of cologne clinging to his frame. But you have never seen that gaze before, bloodshot and bleak and belonging to somebody new. Somebody who isn’t completely here, straddling the partition between the realms of people and phantoms.

Then he lifts his eyes and you see stars, flaring in the absence of light. Your stars.

And you recognize him for the first time ever.

You drop your hand to your hip, and his fingers feel stiff and cold and perfect, sliding into the spaces between yours.

“Why don’t you like snow?” You ask.

Jisung’s eyes return to the swirling sleet, but he moves your interlocked hands to rest on his thigh, and you know that he’s with you.

He’s been having this nightmare.

It takes place in a small clearing. It’s winter, and everything is covered in snow. Not the gentle kind that you can catch on your tongue, but the unyielding kind that’s hard and dense and covered in cracks, like a lake newly frozen over.

Somebody is in front of him, walking away. He can only see their back. He wants to chase after them. He doesn’t want to be left behind. But there are ghosts nearby, and they’ll split his skull open on the permafrost and tie his windpipe into a pretty bow if he so much as dreams of pursuit. He always does. He doesn’t know how not to.

Normally, the back leaves, and he can do nothing but remain. He can direct his loathing only to the snow into which he bleeds.

Normally, he waits for the dream to end with something bordering on boredom. He’s seen this movie too many times. He fucking hates how it ends.

This time, though, the snow tastes like something.

After the flavors deliquesce upon his tongue, his head shoots up, his eyes blowing wide as they latch onto the retreating figure. He knows who it is.

His feet scrabbles against the ice with his attempts to rise to them. He lunges forward with frenzied resolve, and that is when the ghosts snap his neck.

He wakes up.

“Cherry blossoms and vanilla.”

You blink, tearwater streaking from your eyes in silent, steaming trails.

“That’s—”

My shampoo.

A broken sob escapes you in lieu of the rest of your sentence, and Jisung laughs, a flimsy facade that crumbles when he lifts his hand to dab at your moistened cheeks and it’s trembling.

“Silly,” he murmurs. “I’m used to it now.”

“I don’t want you to be.”

“I don’t want you to cry for me.”

“You died.”

“And I would do it again.”

This response comes without an shred of hesitation.

You first realized you had something to confess, that night in the the back of Jisung’s SUV. You’ve kept it locked away for your sake and his, even moreso. You see how fear clings to him like an unshakeable wraith, and you refuse to feed the parasite.

Now, your confession explodes from its fortress in the center of your soul and rises up your larynx. You panic like an inept security guard letting their only prisoner bolt free. Is it really the right time? Do you know what to say? Have you really thought this through?

Too late. It’s rushing to the point of your tongue already. You suppose you’ll find out.

He saves you the trouble.

“Honestly?”

Your confession stills.

“I don’t know if I’m okay, and I won’t try to convince you otherwise. You’d call my bluff. You’re good at that.

“But everything feels okay when I’m with you. You see me. You allow me just to exist as I am. You make me feel human again—you make me want to feel human again. You empty my mind.”

You feel as if you’ve been ejected into space naked, griping for air where there is none.

“I never believed in having somebody to lose,” he utters, gently leaning his forehead against yours. “But I would rather disappear than watch you go.”

You cradle his jaw with shaking fingers, trying and failing to quell the violence of your emotion.

“Don’t go,” he exhales.

You kiss him.

It should feel the same as before. You reach for the slant of his neck, him the dips above your waist. You sigh into him, parting your lips, and he moves into you deeper, harder, dipping into your mouth with his tongue’s pliant swipe. But there’s something new in the way you hold each other, in the seal of your mouth against his.

The line between sexual escapade and lover vanishes as if swept off the sand and into the sea. His stars come out of hiding at last and they bathe you in their residue, light your heart aglow.

Your confession resurfaces. It wants to stargaze also.

“I love you too,” you breathe.

The night comes and goes.

The two of you spend it entangling, sweating, your lips glued the expanse of his neck and the arcs of his shoulders, writing over the ghosts’ injuries with bruises of your making.

Only when the winds have faltered outside do you attempt to rest again. You are curled up in balmy bliss, utterly depleted. Jisung’s arms around your middle and legs threaded among yours bring you that much closer to slumber’s cusp.

You attribute it to your exhaustion when he mumbles something against you, and you have no idea what it means: “Thank you for refracting me.”

Your confusion is palpable in your silence. His laugh hits the nape of your neck with a gentle puff, and he kisses the spot just beneath your ear. “Never mind.”

🔖 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@skzms・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn ・@liknws・@hotgorloikawa・@randomwimp・ @automaticpersonabatpaper・@aceofvernons・@linos-kitten

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aphroditelovesu · 8 months

Text

.navigation

✿.｡Welcome to my blog! My name is Larissa, but feel free to call me Lari or Lady L, which is how you know me. I'm Brazilian 🇧🇷 and I was born on October 15th. English is not my first language. My pronouns are she/her and I am bisexual 💖💜💙. I am Libra ♎️ and INTP.

⤷♡. If you want to support my work or to just tip me, can you buy me a coffee? ☕️

⤷✿.Here I've gathered all my series, masterlists and some additional things to make them easier to find. Enjoy my blog, dear reader.

⤷♡.+ disclaimer: some of my works may have nsfw content in addition to the yandere genre. if you are sensitive to these topics, I recommend not reading.

⤷♡.+ genre: yandere/dark!au.

⤷♡.+ Requests are OPEN. Asks and concepts are open.

⤷♡.+ character ai: aphroditelovesu.

⤷♡.+ Rules and Fandoms List;

⤷♡.+ Emoji Prompt List + Prompts List;

⤷♡.+ Wips; 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6; 7; 8;

⤷♡.+ Commissions;

‘‘Love you so bad, love you so bad, mold a pretty lie for you.’‘ ˚˖੭ Fake Love, BTS.

⤷♡.+ BTS; 💜

⤷♡.+ BLACKPINK; 🖤

⤷♡.+ ITZY; 🧡

⤷♡.+ Stray Kids; 💙

➷ EXO: Yandere Baekhyun (Romantic), Yandere Suho (Romantic).

➷ TWICE: Imagine as Classmates.

⤷♡.+ Greek Mythology; ⚡

⤷♡.+ Egyptian Mythology; 𓂀

⤷♡.+ Historical Characters; 📜

➷ The Lost Queen | Yandere!Alexander the Great ❝You woke up near a military camp without remembering how and why you got there, you didn't understand why they were dressed like ancient Greeks, all you knew was that you weren't safe and you needed to get out of that place as soon as possible. Too bad for you that you found yourself attracting unwanted attention from the Macedonian King and he won't let you go so easily.❞ The Lost Queen Series Masterlist

⤷♡.+ The Vampire Diaries + The Originals; 🧛

⤷♡.+ House of the Dragon; 🐉

⤷♡.+ Game of Thrones; ❄️

⤷♡.+ The Sandman; ⌛

⤷♡.+ Outlander; 🗿

⤷♡.+ Wednesday; 🎻

⤷♡.+ Brooklyn Nine-Nine; 👮‍♂️

⤷♡.+ Bridgerton; 🐝

⤷♡.+ Shadow and Bone; ☠️

⤷♡.+ Outer Banks; 💰

⤷♡.+ K-Dramas; ❤️

⤷♡.+ Reign; 👑

⤷♡.+ The Tudors; 🗡️

⤷♡.+ Hannibal; 🍽

➷ The Bloody Viscount | Yandere!Anthony Bridgerton ❝You had fallen in love with Viscount Bridgerton and he had fallen in love with you. The marriage seemed perfect, but then why did Anthony Bridgerton always come home late and bloodstained?❞ Prologue; Chapter 1; Chapter 2; ➷ The Shadow of the Golden Dragon | Yandere!ASOIAF/HOTD/GOT ❝You have always been an avid reader and your greatest passion was delving into the pages of "A Song of Ice and Fire" by George R.R. Martin. You knew every character, every twist and every detail of the Seven Kingdoms as if they were part of your own life. But what you never imagined is that an unexpected encounter with a mysterious antique book seller would change your life forever.❞ The Shadow of the Golden Dragon Masterlist

⤷♡.+ Percy Jackson; 🌊

⤷♡.+ Harry Potter; 🔮

⤷♡.+ A Court of Thorns and Roses; 🌹

⤷♡.+ A Song of Ice and Fire; 🔥

‘‘We were born to be alone but why we still looking for love?’‘ ˚˖੭ Lovesick Girls, BLACKPINK.

⤷♡.+ Attack on Titan; ⚔️

⤷♡.+ Naruto; 🍥

⤷♡.+ Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Cat Noir; 🐞

⤷♡.+ One Piece; 👒

⤷♡.+ How To Train Your Dragon; 🐲

⤷♡.+ Death Note; 📓

‘‘Don’t you know that you’re toxic?’’ ˚˖੭ Toxic, Britney Spears.

⤷♡.+ Marvel; ۞

‘‘I wish you would love me again, no, I don't want nobody else.’’ ˚˖੭ Love Me Again, V.

⤷♡.+ Love Letters; 💕

⤷♡.+ Love Letters II; 💕

⤷♡.+ Kinktober 2023; 🎃

➷ A Black Rose | Yandere!Ian Daerier ❝A cruel and narcissistic reaper falls in love with the woman he was supposed to take the life of.❞ Oneshot;

#navigation #masterpost #masterlist #masterlists #rules #fandoms list #prompts #emoji prompt #prompt list #yandere au #love letters #wips #yandere #dark au #📌 pinned post

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orange-orchard-system · 9 months

Text

We recently saw a post about exomemories that interested us, but to avoid detracting from the point of that post, we're making this one ourselves.

The community often focuses on vivid exomemories, ones you can easily understand and tell others about, but it's alright if yours aren't like that. We ourselves often experience memories – whether exo- or from this life/world – as more general knowledge than, like, flashbacks or whatever. We know things without knowing how we know them. Sometimes we get flashes of "Yes, this feels right." or "This reminds me of something I can't put my finger on." We miss things that are hard to put into words, or instinctually assume the presence of something that we only realize in hindsight doesn't exist here. All these kinds of exomemories are just as important as the times we remember something big and vivid.

And of course, memories can be hazy or unclear; you don't need to scramble for details to prove to yourself your exomemories are real. This-life memories aren't perfectly clear and immutable forever and always; why would exomemories somehow be exempt from the regular ol' flaws of memory recall? You don't need every last detail to have "real" exomemories. If it matters to you, and feels real to you, then that's all that matters in the end.

Big, vivid, and clear exomemories are fun to talk about a lot of the time, but they're not the only kind of exomemory out there. Don't hurt yourself trying to force yourself to only have those kinds of exomemories, or suppressing everything that doesn't fall into that box. Exomemories are, at the end of the day, just memories like any other – and as this community should know well, memory can be complicated as hell.

#front soup.txt #saishu.txt #plurality #pluralgang #actuallyplural #plural system #jackson.txt #grimmberry.txt #brownie.txt #actuallymultiple #positivity #positivelyplural #exomemories

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jongbross · 9 months

Note

A headcanon with Exo:

How would they express their feelings for the reader?

a/n: thank you for requesting <3 i did this thinking about love languages, i hope it's okay!

minseok:

acts of service.

minseok has a beautiful way with words, but most of the times he gets awkward to say them out loud, so he learned his love language is acts of service. whenever he sees you're feeling down, he'll do something nice for you, so more often than not you'll get home to him cleaning up the house, finishing that task you've been trying to do for weeks but work just wouldn't let you, or all dressed up waiting for you so he can take you out and treat you with a nice meal.

he always says "i love you" at the end of a phone call or before leaving, but more than that, he tends to show you he loves you through his acts.

junmyeon:

gifts.

i know we all (fans and members) joke about junmyeon being rich and spending all his money as he wants, but somehow he learned that giving gifts is also a love language.

don't get me wrong, he doesn't think he can win people over with that. but if you see and like a nice little pair of earrings, what's the matter with him buying it for you? if you complain to him that you're having a shitty day, is really that bad for him to buy you your favorite desert and get it delivered at your work? if you're the love of his life, the one he's sure he wants to spend the eternity with, can't he buy a new house for the two of you where you can start a family together?

think about it...

yixing:

physical touch.

zhang yixing is one of the softest boys out there. he has a busy schedule and he always puts work first, so sometimes he can't be around you as much as he'd want. so whenever he has some time to spend with you, believe me - he'll be all over you. he will kiss you every chance he have, hug you even if all you're doing is brushing your teeth, lean on your shoulder while you're watching your favorite show.

yixing always makes you feel loved, wanted. he's forever grateful for all the support you give him, for all the times you let him go with a smile on your face because he needed to persue his dreams. he may write a few songs about the way he feels about you, but he rather show you through his touch.

baekhyun:

quality time.

baekhyun knows exactly what he wants and how he wants, so he has confessed to you before. but the funny thing you've realized is, baekhyun is so full of love but has been hurt so many times, that he tries not to talk about his feelings a lot - he's lowkey scared it will all happen again if he wear them on his sleeve.

so, to always remind you how much he loves you and how he cares about you, he learned to just spend some time with you. and it's so natural to him, to turn off the world and just focus on you, give you his full attention; watching your every move, listening to your every word, doing whatever makes you happy - always with a smile on his lips and eyes overflowing with tenderness.

jongdae:

words of affirmation.

have you seen jongdae? he's the walking form of words of affirmation. he is always reminding you how amazing you are, how he's grateful for all the things you do for him, how he knows you're capable of anything you want.

he might not be the one to give you the best birthday gift ever, for an example, but he will always be the one to make you cry at his beautiful words. he might not always be around when you need a hug, but he's always just a call away whenever you're facing some trouble and needs someone to tell you "i love you" and "i believe in you" - and jongdae does, from the bottom of his heart.

chanyeol:

acts of service & physical thouch.

chanyeol is a mix of both, i think. he's the human definition of a golden retriever, i swear! whenever you're sad or need some reassurance, chanyeol hugs you and pulls you closer to his chest because he solemly believe - but won't ever admit it - that how much he loves you emanates from his body and it can heal you.

apart from that, he also likes to shows you that he loves you through his actions rather than words, so don't be surprised if you ever come home and oh, that photo you two took together last month on a trip is now hanging on your wall. (:

kyungsoo:

acts of service.

if you think kyungsoo isn't good with his words, you're right. he has some trouble talking about his feelings, so very early on his life he learned that he can show gratitude and love through his actions. he tends to care for those around him, especially the ones who has done a lot for him too, so of course it wouldn't be different with you.

you also realized this as soon as you two got together. it isn't unusual for kyungsoo to only smile and nod when you tell him you love him, followed by either him bringing you food because you're so busy with work or letting you sleep till noon even though it's his day off and you were supposed to be together - you deserve that rest and he worries about your health because he loves you, so it's okay.

jongin:

physical touch.

there's a very specific moment in one of superm's lives that jongin holds baekhyun's fingers and keeps playing with them for such a long time... that's how he acts with you too.

jongin does say he loves you, very often actually, but you feel that everytime he touches you - which he also does a lot. he's always touching you somehow, from pulling you close everytime he laughs to just touching shoulders while watching something on the couch. he needs that warmth, he craves that from his lover, and he can only hope that it's enough to show you that hey, he's so in love with you (spoiler alert: it is more than enough).

sehun:

gifts.

poor baby doesn't know how to show love. perhaps, since he's not only exo's maknae but also the youngest from his family, he has always been spoiled and showered with love in so many ways that he doesn't know how to pay back. the only way he gets to do it, and that's also a little bit of junmyeon's fault, is through gift giving.

sehun showers you with gifts every chance he gets. anything you want, name it and it's yours - or don't name it, because sehun learned how to read you so everytime you see something, check the price and be like "hm, that's too expansive" DO NOT be fooled, give sehun barely two weeks and the thing you wanted it's on your hands. he'll spoil you rotten if you let him, but don't blame him, it's his way to say "i love you so much, thank you for taking care of me".

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pleasekitasan · 2 years

Text

untouchable

pairing: oikawa nii-chan x f!reader, MDNI!!!!!

word count: 5k

tags and warnings: incest, dub-con / reluctance, intoxication, manipulation, virginity loss ( it's a social construct, but tooru-nii wants yours 🥴 ), god complex, all characters are over 18!!, use of "cunt", creampie / unprotected sex, timeskip tooru. if any warnings are missing, please let me know!

a/n: this is my submission for @iwaasfairy's persephone collab! if you haven't checked out her work yet, god lord please do. i'm so honoured to even have my blog & fic on a post of hers!! hope you enjoy tooru-nii being a moral monster to the tune of monster by exo! 😇

i'll flip you over, break you down, and swallow you up

i'll steal you and indulge in you

i'm gonna mess you up

i'm engraved in your heart

so even if i die, i'll live forever

when your nii-chan told the family that he was moving to argentina, everyone ( including you ) was so happy for him. to be able to find your passion in high school and pursue it after isn't something that everyone has the luxury of doing.

on the week leading up to his departure, you would follow him around like a puppy, even going out with him and all his high school friends to drink ( nii-chan would sneak you cups of sake when workers weren't looking ) to make sure you didn't lose a single second with him. by the time you two arrived home, your parents would be asleep or just heading to bed, so it was more than easy to sneak into nii-chan's room and sleep curled up at his side, hands scrunching the front of his shirt as you held on to him, even in your dreams.

seeing him off at the airport was the first time you felt your heart break. he looked so happy and you were, too! just really, really deep inside. ever since you were born, it was tooru-nii that looked after you when your parents were away ( which was a lot ). it was tooru-nii that helped you with your homework after school. it was tooru-nii that put you on the volleyball team as his manager. it was tooru-nii you'd scream for during all his matches. he's your first love — not your mother or father: it was always nii-chan.

after he left, life became bleak. the house felt so much emptier and your days so much darker. the volleyball team was never the same without him, but you stayed as a manager until graduation came around. with nii-chan no longer around, you used your free time to study and got into the best schools in the country, but it still didn't feel like this was the right path or what you should do, even when tooru-nii called to congratulate you.

a year after his departure, it was your turn to wear the black cap and gown, throwing the former in the air with the remnants of a smile twitching at your lips. you aren't sure what you're free from, but you feel relieved and relaxed. the rest of the day was spent bidding your friends farewell, most of them staying in miyagi for college, whilst you accepted a scholarship in tokyo. by the time you get home, your cheeks are tear-stained from the amount of goodbyes you've had to express — you really are going to miss a lot of them, especially the volleyball teammates that supported you throughout tooru-nii's absence.

the dark house suddenly becomes blinding as the lights flicker on and you shield your squinting eyes as the sound of "surprise!" mixes in with "congratulations" ( your parents weren't the best with planning things in general ). laughter bubbles up in your chest and you take a deep bow where you are at the door for all the relatives that stopped by.

"thank you, everyone!" your aunts and uncles, baby cousins and grown ones, even your grandparents were there. they didn't come by for tooru's graduation ( he explicitly said he didn't want a party ), but they stopped by to give you gifts, money, and lots of awkward hugs.

only when the last of your mother's side is done hogging you does tooru steal your attention.

"happy graduation, my sweet little imouto-chan."

your eyes light up, filling with the joy you've been deprived of for the past year.

"nii-chan!" you jump into his open arms without another thought and nuzzles your face into his neck, lips spread into a wide grin. "what're ya doin' here? i thought you were busy with a game this week!"

"well... mom 'nd dad called me up about a month ago to tell me that you're finally graduating. had to make somethin' up so you'd feel surprised. did ya miss me?" his question seems like such a stupid one. isn't it painfully obvious with the way you're clinging to him, ignoring everyone's laughter as they murmur about how close you two must be?

"maybe," you hum teasingly, a giggle leaving your lips when you see tooru-nii's small frown. "of course i did, dummy."

reluctantly, you pull away so things don't look weird ( weirder? ), but tooru's fingers lace with yours as he leads you around the house to greet your father's side of the family, your older brother squeezing your palm when you seem to grow disinterested in the elders' nagging or advice. he's always looked out for you and tonight, you know that this will never change.

"nii-chan," you giggle as his hot breath tickles the curve of your ear.

with all the adults gone and your parents resting in their bedroom, it was up to you and a tipsy tooru-nii to clean up, but having the elder dropping items with his butterfingers over and over again made you both agree to leave a note on the fridge saying that you'll clean it up in the morning.

now he's crumbling on top of his bed and he takes you down with him just as you close the bedroom door.

"my imouto, my sweetheart," he slurs a bit, wrapping his arms tightly around you so you're resting on his chest.

there's a smile you can't bite back and you lean up to nuzzle your cheek against his, the proximity and warmth of your older brother after their absence makes the hole in your chest slowly heal, the emptiness filling up with the love you've missed out on.

tooru pulls back a bit and your lips twitch at the corners from the loss, but his palms are quick to engulf your cheeks, his thumbs tracing underneath your doe eyes. even with moonlight as the only light source, you look so breathtaking to him, like you're the only girl he'll ever see.

"love you, sweetheart," he whispers, the smell of alcohol faint, but noticeable. your nose scrunches a bit and you start to lean into one of his hands, nodding.

"love you too, nii-chan. with all my heart!"

"just your heart?" his words catch you off guard and the way you tilt your head with confusion only makes the heat in the pit of tooru's stomach grow. "you see, imouto-chan, i love you with my body, heart, and soul."

his words individually are digestible, but when put together, they only blind you even further, your brows meeting in the middle with your visible lack of understanding.

frustration lines his voice in a thin layer at the way you don't seem to really get what he's saying — how is this even possible after you've pined for him for almost two decades?

"don't you get it, sweetheart?" one of his large hands swallows yours and places your palm in between his legs where his cock is straining against his sweats and boxers ( two layers too many if you ask him ). "i want you in every realm possible."

slowly — painfully slow, you start to comprehend what he — tooru-nii, your brother, is telling you. knowledge flashes in your eyes with a deep frown and you try to pry your hand away from his too warm one, but he fights it, pressing down even harder and bucking his hips into the barely tangible warmth of your tiny palm.

"you can't run away, baby. you made this mess, so you have to be the one to clean it up. take care of me like i selflessly took care of you all these years, sweetheart."

the pressing urge to ask if this is all a joke bubbles in your mouth, but before you have the chance to let it out, he presses his lips to yours with an unmistakable moan. tooru's way past the guilt he's held on to for years and allows himself to indulge in the delectable taste of your mouth, the way you mould so easily against him, as if you were made for him — but you are, aren't you?

only when he notices that you haven't breathed in a while does he pull away, lewd lines of spit still connecting his lips to yours; he leaves them there to let the image burn itself into his mind.

"nii-chan," you choke out, "i-i don't think i can do this... it's weird. i don't love you like this."

there's heartbreak in his eyes, perhaps the very same look in yours as he left for south america one year ago, and you feel your chest clench. when his eyes gleam with moisture in the reflection of the moonlight, you gasp in panic and hurry your hands to cup his cheeks out of instinct. you'd do anything to assure that nii-chan feels better, even if it means breaking moral and ethical codes... right? you should, right? he raised you more than your parents did without asking for anything in return, except this. just one thing, one time. you can do that.

"just one time, nii-chan..." mischief returns to tooru's eyes and he nods with no intent of keeping his promise.

"i promise it'll feel good, sweetheart." his breath is hot on your mouth as his hands slide down your neck, collarbones, and your sides, groping every inch of you he can on the way. "say you love nii-chan."

when he reaches the hem of your dress, he scrunches it in his fists and lifts the fabric up, up, up until it bunches in your underarms. the playful lilt in his eyes turns predatory in a second; the way he looks over your body makes a shiver run down your spine and you rush to cover yourself with your hands, but he's much too quick. two strong hands grab your wrists and pin them down by your head as a deep chuckle rumbles in his chest.

"have you've been holding out on me all these years, imouto-chan?" gentle lips press against your cheek and you feel the curl of his smirk as he trails wet kisses down your neck, his fingers finally releasing you to lift your dress up and off your body, your bra easily undone and stripped off next. his guttural moan fills the room when his hands engulf your tits, fingers indulging as he squeezes your plentiful flesh. a glimmer of hope forms when your eyes water up and spill with tears — maybe he'll see just how unwilling you are, how much you aren't enjoying this, and stop in his tracks. the miniscule possibility is washed away like a grain of sand in a windy wave as you feel the throbbing of his cock through his clothes — the same throbbing feeling you'd experience when he'd sit you on his lap whenever you'd sob and tell him about how issei senpai didn't return your texts ( it was all his doing with his threats to fuck up during matches if issei so much as even texted a period back to you ). it's clear now that it wasn't just the tears that made him so excited, it was the lack of power you had as you slumped on top of him, like you are underneath him, too.

"i love you, sweet pea. do you love nii-chan, too?" he's more pressing than before, his fingers squeezing down on your tits to elicit a response, something, out of you. his expression remains attentive when he wraps his mouth around one of your nipples, flicking and sucking on the peak as the now free hand dips lower and lower, tracing calloused fingertips all the way to your slit where he can witness your body betraying you. his digits get coated with your slick in a matter of seconds from just teasing the petals and you can feel the vibrations of his smug chuckle against your sensitive bud.

your unskilled hands could never provide yourself with the pleasure that tooru-nii instills upon you with only a single digit and he has you moaning, back arching slightly above the sheets.

"oh, god." you want to shut up, to deny him the satisfaction of knowing that he's actually making you feel good while he defiles you, but you've never won against nii-chan in anything — this is no different. slowly, you unravel underneath him, your hands grabbing his shoulders as his lips curl up into a devlish smirk. "i love you too, tooru-nii," you murmur in response a bit belatedly.

hearing it just once is enough. his eyes light up as if you bought him a spot on the olympic team, his head lifting from your chest with a lewd smacking sound of his grinning lips, only for him to trail downwards again, his mouth hot and wet as he quickly dips into your belly button before replacing his finger at your swollen clit with his mouth instead.

instantly, you feel the difference between his fingertip and his tongue, the latter gentler, but quick as he flicks against the sensitive nub until you're whimpering so loud, your hand clamps over your mouth. tooru moves his finger to trace circles around your entrance instead, letting your juice cover the tip of it before he slides into your unpenetrated walls. when he's met with slight resistance at the end of the digit, he pulls away from you with his spit and your nectar stuck to his mouth and chin.

"don't tell me you've never touched yourself, sweetheart... iwa-chan didn't even try to fuck you?" his invasive words make your cheeks flush bright red and you shake your head vigorously in response. your nii-chan's best friend has tried endlessly to deflower you, but you'd always scare him off by saying that tooru-nii would find out and sabatoge matches in response. your threats were empty, but iwaizumi wasn't dumb enough to think that the chance of it happening was none — he's seen the way tooru hovered over you for years, always reluctant to let anyone else have your attention, the captain would've found out one way or another, though if iwa had your consent, it might've been less of a disaster.

"you've been saving yourself for nii-chan all these years, just how it should be. it's almost poetic, really." the smile on his features bring about a shudder from your frail shoulders and you start to close your legs together, but tooru pinches the inner expanse of your thigh as punishment. "don't try to hide from me, imouto-chan. let me see my present and really appreciate it the way a man should."

obedient and submissive, the way he wants you to be — the way you've always been for him — you lay there bare and embarrassed, legs spread as he starts to undress himself. the scarlet that flushed his cheeks and chest is entirely gone now, his hands no longer shaking as he tosses his shirt up and over his head, his words no longer slurring as he calls you a handful of degrading words. the alcohol is already flushed out of his system and the only thing intoxicating him now is you.

in the time he's been gone, the growth tooru has gone through is strikingly noticeable: his shoulders are wider, his arms bulging with twice as much muscle power, his chest puffier and his abs more defined, even in the dark. a hesitant hand reaches up to hold onto his bicep like you used to when you'd try to pry him off of you whilst wrestling, except this time, your fingers are stranded much farther away from each other than you're used to.

"you like how much bigger nii-chan is now, sweetie?" the cocky grin on his lips isn't visible, but it's thick in his voice. with you slightly distracted, he takes the opportunity to rid himself of his slacks and briefs, kicking them off his ankles when they pool there. his question goes verbally unanswered, but he can feel the way your small fingers are starting to run along the strong muscles that lay underneath them, as if silently worshipping.

the single chuckle that escapes his smirking mouth is enough to break you out of your trance, your hand falling from his limb so you can cover your chest with your palms. you're hyperaware of his lingering eyes and the fact that you're both naked in his bed, his gaze unlike that of a loving brother, someone that swore to protect you from other men doing this to you.

"you were made for me, sweetheart. i was the one that asked kaa-san and otou-san for you. without me, you wouldn't be here. don't you think i'm a little... underappreciated?" his words took a twist you weren't expecting and your brows furrow together as you try to process what he's trying to say — are you supposed to be at his disposal because he asked for a sibling as a kid? it doesn't take too long for him to answer your question. "personally, i think you should worship me. thank me for allowing you to be born."

if you weren't under pressure, perhaps you would've done the logical thing and shoved him off of you whilst laughing wildly. he's being ridiculous and his logic is so deeply flawed.

but that's not what you see in your head right now. right now, you see the way your parents praised tooru-nii for every achievement he's earned, no matter how small, while they had overlooked your 1st place spelling bee trophy and the full-ride scholarship you worked so hard for. you think of the leftover pieces of fruit you'd get only if tooru-nii didn't finish off the plate that your mother would meticulously cut for him, your allowance being pennies whilst tooru-nii had a trust fund. every time you'd feel dejected, it was your brother that would tell you "great job" or sit you on his lap as he fed you all your favourite fruits, even if it meant he'd get less of them. you learned to ask your nii-chan for money whenever you needed a new uniform or school supplies.

he was right. you didn't mean anything to your parents and it finally makes sense why you lived in his shadow your entire life, why you relied on him for everything: tooru-nii is your provider, your god.

as comprehension starts to light up in your eyes, your brows unfurrow and your orbs retain their usual doe shape. he sees a sense of recognition flash in them and his lips curl into a crooked smirk — you're his, like you were always meant to be.

"thank you, nii-chan," is the first thing you utter out, tears welling at your waterline again for different purposes this time. this time, you're grateful; you feel blessed to be underneath him. your pathetic whimpers reflect just how sorry you are for your resistance and you part your legs mindlessly to let him enter however he wants — and why shouldn't he? he's taken care of you like one would their most prized possession for almost two decades now.

"that's my girl." the praise rushes straight to your pussy, which just starts to leak with desire, and you moan just from his words. "i'm glad you finally understand, sweetheart. i knew you could do it." he sounds condescending, but the way his warm palm caresses your cheek and his eyes gleam as they bore into yours makes show that he meant his words in a thoughtful manner.

"want you, nii-chan," you mumble, desiring nothing more than to fulfil your life's purpose of giving tooru-nii everything he wants — you're lucky that he wants you right now.

"of course, darling," he responds dismissively, as if your words didn't make a drop of pre-cum fall from his sobbing tip. "just have to make sure you're ready is all." and he does so thoroughly, dipping his head as he lifts your legs up, up, and up until you're almosy folded in half, his own torso bent over so he can press a sloppy kiss against where he knows your clit is restlessly throbbing. he's wreckless as he spreads your slick folds with his pointer and middle finger from below, his chin almost touching the dip between his digits as he feasts on you. the textured surface of his tongue licks a thick stripe from the origin of your sweet nectar and up to your clit that he finds underneath the cloak of your puffy folds, the edge of his wet muscle roughly flicking as his mouth latches on to the surrounding skin so he can suck down.

oh, the noises you make as your hands grip his chestnut locks are almost as intoxicating as your taste, and if there's ever been a time when tooru was pussy-drunk, it was nothing compared to now: he was absolutely inebriated beyond return with you.

he repeats what he did before, tracing circles around your entrance before he slides a finger in only halfway, so as to keep the last remaining evidence of your purity intact, then another to stretch you out — to be the considerate brother he always is, of course.

your back slowly lifts and he feels your fingers curl tighter around his hair, so he doubles down, lapping at your clit with lewd smacks of his lips filling the room until he feels your body tense — and that's when he pulls away from you without pity, the desperate cry from your poor lips that've swelled from how hard your teeth dug into them making it his turn to moan.

you look debauched, but he knows that there's still an ounce of innocence left within you that he's intent on taking.

"sweet imouto-chan," he murmurs as he finally takes your aching legs, folding them so your calves rest on each of his toned shoulders, his knees a few inches from your ass that's almost lifted from the mattress. "won't you tell me you love your nii-chan one more time?" soft lips press along your calf and he noses gently as a show of affection, luring you into saying what he wants to hear again.

"love you, tooru-nii," you respond obediently, lust thick in your voice as you realise how sticky you are between your legs, how much your entrance is clenching on nothing when it should be him instead.

"that's my girl," he repeats, but you don't mind hearing the same sweet words over and over, the possessiveness behind them. from where he kneels, he gets the perfect view of your slit and how it glistens in the moonlight with as much craftsmanship as if you were a hand-painted masterpiece of art about to go up in the louvre.

his cock twitches and chest clenches when he realises that all of it is for him, and that's how it'll be from now on — he'll make sure of it. greedy palms skim down your legs and hips until he can grab at your tits, the perfect size to fit in his hold, using them as leverage as he starts to finally tease his leaking tip against your desperate hole. with skilled thumbs, he flicks your pebbled buds and leans down so he can watch as you become his.

"take it all like a good girl," is the last you hear before he pushes just the head of his cock in, but it's enough to make your eyes widen — this is nothing compared to the two fingers he used to prep you.

"i-it hur—" but he won't have any of that.

tooru pushes in deeper, harder, until he's halfway in and he can feel the resistance of your hymen disappear. but that's when your pain reaches a peak and your back arches off the bed, your tiny hands pushing at his shoulders to try and fight him. the training and growth from his time away from you was all for this moment, to make sure that he can continue going inside of you, despite how much you protest.

"good girl," he breathes out huskily, uncaring of your struggles and the tears that fall down the sides of your cheeks. you're so warm and tight and he wants you sheathed around him completely, so he does it, he takes what he wants. within seconds, tooru bottoms out until his tip is buried deep within your walls and his head lolls, unable to keep it up as pleasure pumps through his veins. "holy fuck," he groans.

your sobs have quieted by now and your body's too limp to do fight back any longer — not that it would've had any impact. selfishly, he doesn't care if you've adjusted or if you will, his hips vigorously bucking against yours so he can pump in and out of your sweltering walls. the sound of his body pounding against yours is only amplified by the liquid shame that covers your thighs and his own.

with watchful eyes, he commits the way your face contorts from pain, then morphs into one of pleasure to memory as he lifts a hand to your cheek, making his weight no longer crush down on your chest as much. he caresses your tear-stained face, feigning pity in his chestnut orbs, but the smirk on his lips is as twisted as his thoughts. god, he loves the sight of you getting fucked dumb, each and every thought leaving your head each time he plunges into your hot, wet walls, until he pushes against the spongy bundle buried deep in you — then your eyes are rolling to the back of your head.

"who's nii-chan's sweet whore?" he grits out through his teeth, trying his best to keep his head from throwing itself back so he can watch you; he doesn't want to miss a single second of this. with the way your mouth only parts to let out lewd whimpers and moans, he knows he won't get an answer, but that's alright.

your gummy walls have already tightened and pulsed around his cock over and over — no surprise when he was the first thing to ever penetrate you, let alone this deep. the hand on your chest drops to hold your hip, prompting you to arch your back as he lets the fingers on your chest find solace in between your slippery folds to draw rough circles around your throbbing clit, forcing relief on you.

"be a good little sister and cum nii-chan's cock while he fills you up," he murmurs in a saccharine voice, so sweet that his proposition doesn't ring any alarms in your head. all you do is nod pathetically and grip his biceps ( when did they get so hard to wrap your hands around again? ) as you brace yourself for another orgasm.

with the extra stimulation of his digits, you feel the coiling hot heat in your core far more than the previous times, your knuckles turning white as you try to contain the feeling, but to no avail with tooru-nii pushing harder and harder into you, drops of his sweat falling onto your tummy.

"n-nii-chan, wait—" you try. you really feel like it's too much, but you see that your cry falls on unhearing ears when tooru starts to moan louder and louder. he pulls his hand back to slap it down against your clit and that's the last thing you remember before you're screaming "nii-chan!" repeatedly in between sobs, finally letting go. your eyes clamp shut and your toes clench so hard, you might've twisted a muscle. the faint sound of "oh, fuck" in your brother's voice lingers when you feel the pressure building up inside of you become lifted, almost like relief. your fingers letting go of him one by one as the strength in your body depletes in the afterglow of your orgasm.

"cutie," his voice sounds almost... in disbelief. "fuck, you there?" his fingers give your aching clit a nudge, jolting you back to reality. "you...you squirted."

in an instant, your eyes fly wide open and you lift your head ( much to the protest of your already sore body ) to see the moisture that glistens on his torso and your thighs, a few drops falling down his legs, too.

"i'm so sorry," you blurt out, shame making your cheeks redden even further, but tooru-nii looks far from enraged or displeased. his smile only widens and he leans in to press a kiss to your wet forehead.

"and what would you have to apologise for, sweetheart?" he seems more pleased — a bit cocky, even — and he slowly slips out of you ( not without a groan ), paying no mind to the mess on his sheets as he lays down beside you, turning onto his side with an arm stretched out under his head, the other hand stroking your damp cheek with the backs of his fingers. "you've been nothing but perfect."

the sun in argentina seems so much more powerful than it is back home, your skin having grown just a shade darker despite all the sunscreen you've been using. it was inevitable with how much time you spend on the beach in a skimpy bikini each day after tooru-nii finishes practice with his team — he won't let your feet touch sand unless you're nude or only covering the absolute necessities.

after a few weeks, you've adjusted to tooru's schedule — wake up, go for a jog, eat, practice, beach, fuck, then sleep; rinse and repeat. he never asks if you miss home or if and when you want to go back. you gave up your scholarship and admission to the school you got into the second tooru-nii asked you to move to argentina with him.

the first time he introduced you to his teammates, you couldn't understand any of the conversation taking place above your head, but the catcalls and whistles that came during it made you squirm just a bit. one of them looked at your face, then nii-chan's repeatedly, asking something about siblings you're sure because he said it in english, and you paid enough attention in school to learn that word. but nii-chan just gave a friendly hit to the man's shoulder and shook his head. when you had asked tooru about it later, he gave you a confused look, head tilted.

"you're my sweetheart, darling. i might be your big brother, but i love you much more than that — we love each other more than that." his toned arms pulled you in for an embrace and you returned it with a tight smile, nodding as you lowered your head against his shoulder, a single tear escaping your wet eyes.

this was what you were made for: to serve tooru-nii, no matter where he is in the world. you're his sweet doll, his darling — his perfect imouto-chan.

#oikawa x you #oikawa x reader #haikyuu x reader #tooru x reader #tw.incest #tw.dubcon #oikawa

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icequeenbae · 1 year

Text

Shot Through the Heart (m) | BBH

Related works: Snapshot (m) [pt.1], Giving Love a Shot (m) [pt.3]

Pairing: photographer!Baekhyun x idol!Reader ft. soloidol!Kai

Photographer AU, PWP, angst(ish?), smut

Warnings: explicit content, unprotected sex, rough sex (incl. oral), angry sex(?), dirty talk, creampie

Word Count: ~4.5k

Summary: You and Baekhyun cross paths at work again. Problem is, your steamy photoshoots almost always lead to you having sex. Would the dynamic change if there’s another person in the room?

Author’s note: Hello my sweethearts!! I apologize for taking way too long to post this... Since last summer I wasn't nearly as active as before, and I wasn't sure why. But now that Baekhyunie is finally back from the military I suddenly feel slightly more energized. Maybe I'll post a bit more often from now on? 🙃 Unless my lovely @baekshoney kills me for making her beta read my crazy stories haha In any case, I hope you used your chance to refresh Snapshot in your memory, because this will be a continuation of the story of our idol!Reader and fuckb- ahem, photographer!Baek~

As always, my asks are open and I do my best to respond to all of your comments (in reblogs as well), so don't be shy to share any thoughts and impressions ❤️

Tags: @exo-writers-net @bbh-net @superm-net

The makeup crew was floating around you, pampering, and pampering, and pampering. You weren’t confident that there was even the slightest chance for your skin to survive this. It wasn’t unusual – photo shoots required just as much preparation as premiere events, the close-ups being rather demanding. Still, the more powdered your face became, the heavier you sighed, imagining the skincare routine you’d need to complete afterwards.

The best you could get from your make-up artists was help with removing the layers of whatever they used so generously on your face. The rest was up to you, and, fortunately, you care enough to go through with all of the gazillion steps of the process. Cleansing your pores, soothing your skin with toners and masks, applying serums and essences, using revitalizing creams… This took you forever, and any time you decided to skip a few steps, you ended up with acne, awfully dry or blotchy skin, or even more horrendous allergic reactions.

Tonight was going to be pretty long with all of the efforts that went into your behind-the-scenes glow-up.

‘Erase that frown, your makeup will get wrinkles, honey.’

Your frown only deepened as you heard his voice.

The women carrying the inquisition tools for your poor face almost squealed as he stepped closer. Baekhyun and his stupid charms. Even the makeup artists (in their late thirties to mid forties) were on the verge of fainting out of earthly existence whenever he walked by. You could swear he gave them a semi-interested onceover and a slight smile as soon as he stepped closer.

Although you really wanted to say something dirty just to take a swing at him, you stayed collected.

‘Is Kai ready?’ You asked with a scowl. ‘I want this over with. It’s been a long day.’

The day in question was indeed long. This photoshoot began in the morning, and you kept changing outfits and settings. Today's concept was ‘honeymoon’, so you and your partner – the biggest male solo act in your company – did your best to portray a young couple having the time of their lives. And this was supposed to be the final setting. The newlyweds’ bedroom.

After the huge sensation that your pool photoshoot became, your management decided that having you do more sexy and borderline scandalous concepts wasn’t a bad idea. Easy to monetize, anyway. So here you were, waiting to get half-undressed and possibly groped by none other than your sunbae.

Kai debuted only a year before you, and was instantly famous. His dancing skill was incredibly flamboyant, so it wasn’t surprising how quick he was to capture the audiences’ hearts. He was also a well-known heartthrob in the business, although most of the stuff in the media was made up to hype him up. This was a perfect opportunity to promote both of your albums, especially riding the wave from your previous sexy shoot.

‘Did I hear you call out for me, my love?’ Your partner for the day walked into the room bearing all of the grace in the world.

The swoons renewed, and you barely managed to prevent your eyes from rolling backwards.

‘Stop calling me that already.’

‘How can I? We should stay in character to convey the newlywed passion accurately.’

‘If you keep talking like the company staff in the meetings, I’m gonna barf.’

‘That doesn’t sound sexy. Not at all.’ Kai scrunched up his nose before winking at you. ‘But, in sickness and in health, right?’

‘Alright, lovebirds. Finish up your makeup and let’s do this. The sunrise will be over soon and I want to catch you in natural lighting.’

‘Mine is done,’ Kai quipped, climbing on the bed next to you.

‘I certainly hope that mine is too.’

‘We’re almost finished, Y/N-ssi. Just making sure your skin doesn’t look oily in the pictures,’ one of the staff members provided.

You gave her a pointed look before someone seized your face and tilted your head backwards to examine it closely.

‘Looks matte enough to me. Let’s clear the room.’ Baekhyun murmured before repeating louder for the rest of the team.

‘How cute,’ Kai chuckled in your ear while the photographer busied himself with the equipment.

Sighing, you avoided his teasing gaze.

Kai was also a friend. And one of the very few people who knew that you had something going on with Baekhyun. Prior to this shoot, you had asked him to be discreet about it, especially since the whole topic of your relationship with the blond was sensitive. You didn’t want him (or the staff!) to get the wrong idea. So, your sunbae’s occasional ‘meaningful’ looks seriously made you tick.

‘Alright, let’s begin.’ Baekhyun finally closed the door and turned around, eyeing you with precision. ‘Stand in front of the bed, so that she could look up at you. A bit to the left.’

He took a couple of shots, mumbling something in affirmation. You glanced in his direction while he was checking something in his camera.

‘Look at him, not me,’ Baekhyun pressed playfully, and Kai snatched it away from him.

‘Right, look at me only, wifey!’

His fingers touched your face to get your attention, and you heard a few clicks.

The three of you were quick to fall into step, and soon enough you’d moved on to posing on the bed. Play fighting, hugging each other, almost kissing – all with strict instructions from your photographer. This was… exhibitionistic in a way.

Only half an hour into the process, Kai was already shirtless. Baekhyun also ditched the usual hoodie, and you glanced at the plain tee he was wearing underneath. It hugged his chest tightly and made you crave touching it. But you weren’t about to act on this impulse.

‘Show more skin. Ride her dress up a bit and put your palm on her hip. Yes. And keep looking at her like this.’

You nodded to Kai as he gave you a chance to refuse and held onto his shoulders while watching him proceed. The pads of his fingers were cool, so it naturally roused goosebumps all over your thigh. Blinking at the reaction of your skin, you looked away, bashful. But in that, you turned to the other man.

Baekhyun stared at Kai’s hand for a second or two longer than necessary, and then got back to finding the best spot to capture it. The click of the shutter brought you back to reality, and you realized your eyes were on him the entire time.

‘Lie down,’ the photographer commanded, voice laced with gruffness. ‘Kai, stay up on your elbow.’

The whole thing was more uncomfortable than sexy, if anyone asked you. Posing or acting that way wasn’t at all intimate. For all of the people present it was simply their job, and you were enormously thankful that there were only the three of you. Having more spectators would’ve made this so much direr.

Nevertheless, the biggest hardship on your account was your and Baekhyun’s eyes accidentally crossing paths. The way he looked at you gave you chills. His eyes were hollow, dimmed by the scenes he was conjuring up in his mind, no doubt. The shameless desire he had for you made your own pulse pick up. Damn him and his effect on you.

The tension forming between you was almost palpable, and you were getting a bit nervous.

Kai asked something in a hushed voice, and you nodded. As soon as you did, a touch to your inner thigh made you jolt.

‘Sorry. I assumed your nod meant it’s okay,’ he eyed you half-curiously and half-apologetically.

You cleared your throat.

‘Uh- yeah. I’m just- ticklish.’

Baekhyun huffed, and you kept yourself from glaring at him. Yes, you lied. You weren’t ticklish there, you were sensitive. As a person, who used every opportunity to shove his face between your thighs, he knew that very well.

‘No need to actually get under her skirt.’ He stressed, looking at Kai.

‘Jealous much?’ The model murmured back mockingly, and Baekhyun frowned.

‘Why would I be?’

‘Ask your boner.’

As soon as the words left Kai’s mouth, both you and Baekhyun looked at his crotch. It was obvious that something was stirring up, even though he wasn’t visibly tenting. Otherwise, the blond wouldn’t have reacted to the provocation so easily.

Gulping, you tore your eyes from his pants to turn to your ‘husband’ for today. He grinned charmingly at you, caressing your cheek.

‘I hope you’re getting this, Baekhyun-ah,’ he nudged, again, messing with him. ‘Wifey here is living her best moments.’

Addressing Baekhyun so very informally while he was two years older than him was a challenge.

‘As if you know what you’re doing,’ the photographer shot back, tilting his head to the side.

You furrowed your eyebrows, not quite grasping where this childish rivalry came from.

‘And you think you’d do better if you were in my place?’

Kai’s hand stroked the curve of your waist before resting on your hip again.

‘I know I’d do better,’ Baekhyun sneered coldly. ‘I do better whenever I am.’

As he said that, your vision went dark for a split second. You literally thought he was crazy. He had no idea that Kai knew about your… whatever this was between you. And being so explicit about it made you question his motives once again.

What was this even? Marking his territory? You’d been around long enough to understand that this wasn’t his ordinary behavior, and you in no way agreed to being his territory.

‘How about I touch you some more, love?’ Kai teased, leaning in provocatively.

‘How about you do not?’ Baekhyun interrupted.

As you look up at the photographer, you notice the tick in his jaw. He seemed properly frustrated at this point. You realized you’d never seen him this annoyed. He looked… hot, even. Very similar to what he looked like when he was on top of you, excruciatingly close to coming.

The thought made you gulp.

‘Why not? I say we make this concept a reality. Someone’s eager anyways,’ Kai smirked, raising a sassy eyebrow.

Baekhyun returned his gaze, chin defiant.

‘I don’t share.’

You couldn’t explain why, but hearing this curt phrase had you biting down on your lip for a second, to contain a moan from the sudden pulse through your core. This was probably nothing, just men being… well, men. But you decided to wait and see where this would lead you.

‘Alright then. Let’s give the lady of hearts the choice! Whom would you like to leave this room, peaches? I call her peaches, because, I mean, you’ve probably seen that gorgeous ass of hers…’

Kai trailed off, almost making you chuckle. He’d never actually called you that before.

But you’d accepted the fuse and lit it.

Taking a couple seconds to exchange gazes with Kai, you then slowly turned to face Baekhyun. And then you motioned towards the door with your eyes.

His lower lip twitched in a way you couldn’t miss.

‘I see. Guess we’ll be carrying on without you,’ the model singsonged.

Baekhyun’s expression hardened. You knew you were in trouble as soon as he carefully put his camera down and ran his fingers through his blond hair.

‘Get out.’

You knew you were in trouble.

‘She just said-’

‘She’ll change her mind in no time,’ Baekhyun ripped the door open. ‘Out.’

Kai fell silent at the authoritative tone the photographer now acquired. He turned to you and you nodded slightly, agreeing to submit yourself to whatever awaited. You watched him get off the bed and walk out of the room reluctantly before the door was shut and locked behind him.

Baekhyun turned around, and you were met with the darkest expression you’d ever seen on his handsome face. You felt your skin prickle with goosebumps, and your tongue instinctively ran over your lips.

Furiously aroused. That he was.

The photographer walked towards you silently before grabbing you by the hair and dragging you off the bed and onto the floor. Before you knew it, his pants were down, and his dick was deep in your throat. Not that you weren’t ready for that.

‘Fucking slut.’ His voice was low and merciless.

Baekhyun went at it, rough and fast, keeping you on your knees while fucking your face. You looked straight at him despite your eyes watering, and there was no doubt that your makeup was instantly ruined. But you didn’t really protest, letting him use your mouth to ease his frustration.

This was new. Exciting.

You whimpered, and he panted as the pleasurable vibration in your throat made his pelvis stutter. So, you did it again. On purpose, this time. Baekhyun grunted, tugging you away.

‘Enjoying yourself too much, I believe,’ he smirked at you, breaths ragged, and slapped your face with his fully hard cock.

Giving him a sharp look for going as far as to destroying the rest of your makeup, you shifted in your spot.

‘No. You don’t get to give me attitude after acting like a whore.’

He wasn’t gentle when he got you up on the bed again, on all fours. Slapped your ass in the process as well.

‘Is this where you wanted his hand to go?’ He traced your inner thigh before slipping under your panties and smearing your arousal around your entrance. ‘Dripping, aren’t you, little slut?’

He slammed two fingers inside and you yelped. You weren’t ready for such an unceremonious intrusion. Still, without giving you a second to recover, he began fingering you. Because he knew that if you didn’t lean forward, that was because it felt really damn good. His long fingers were quick and harsh, and the pace made you start sobbing in seconds.

It was divine.

But Baekhyun got impatient soon enough and flipped you over on your back. You felt his palms on your thighs as he pulled up your dress and removed your littered panties.

This wasn’t something you did often, and maybe you should’ve been offended by his ways of handling you… On the other hand, you felt so naughty that you were ready to beg him to fuck you.

Fortunately, there was no need to do so. He wasted no more than two seconds getting on top of you before beginning to pound you into the mattress. The sex was fast and angry, and you were surprised that it didn’t hurt. Or maybe you simply couldn’t feel the pain, because of how enthralled you were by this man.

The photographer’s blond hair looked messy, and you got a handful just to spite him. Smirking breathlessly, he threw one of your legs over his shoulder to stretch you out, and went even harder. It was clear that your pussy was nothing but a wet slippery mess that Baekhyun tore through like a feral animal. You whined, arching your back to get the best of his thrusts, while the pleasure in your center was building and spreading like a forest fire. The sensation was subtle in the beginning, yet progressed rapidly to intense throbbing.

His fingers rubbed your swollen lips, almost making you drool, and his hips kept up the brutal pace. The blond’s eyes stared deep into yours, and you simply couldn’t hold his gaze.

‘B-Baekhyun, I’m gonna c-’ Your breath hitched as the wave of your pleasure subsided to start building back up right away. ‘Oh-h my god-’

It usually wasn’t this intense. Once your release was there, it was there. This time… It came and went, and you were dying for him to push you over the edge.

‘Want me to leave the room now?’ Baekhyun gritted vindictively, enjoying your helplessness underneath him.

‘Please-’ Your eyes kept rolling backwards with every abrupt press of Baekhyun’s lips to the blotchy skin of your neck until you couldn’t take it anymore, muttering like a mad woman. ‘I’m coming, I’m coming, oh fuck, I’m… Baek- mph-’

His palm was swift to find your mouth and cover it, sealing your moans just in time.

Shaking violently, you didn’t even notice the moment he let your leg slide off his shoulder to press closer to your vulva with each movement. The rubbing of the sensitive skin, the wetness and squelching, the uncontrollable shaking… You hiccupped, enduring all that while he continued fucking into you until he finished as well.

Your eyes fluttered shut as soon as the last spurt of his cum filled your insides. There was no pulling out this time, and it was exactly how you needed it. You’d never had angry wild sex like this, and finishing it any other way would’ve been a disgrace.

He didn’t pull out for a minute, and you just blinked away the water in your eyes. You weren’t really crying; it was a natural reaction to the intensity of the act.

In fact, your mind was so entirely blank and smoothed out that when Baekhyun suddenly looked you in the eye, it startled you.

‘Date me.’ He repeated his long-standing offer, forcefully this time.

As you opened your mouth to refuse again, you ended up immobilized by both his weight and determined gaze.

‘Why not?’ He pressed, guessing the intended answer.

‘I don’t want to.’

‘Bullshit. Why not, Y/N?’

He slipped out, and you flinched, sitting up as well. The aftershocks of your pleasure still had you on edge, and you had to clear your throat before announcing what your thoughts on the subject were.

‘I don’t want a boyfriend who can’t keep it in his pants.’

Baekhyun clicked his tongue.

‘Interesting. I haven’t had sex once since our last shoot, what, 3 months ago? And you’re telling me I can’t keep my penis in check?’

You rolled your eyes, unappreciative of his ‘heroic’ abstinence duration. He didn’t let it slide.

‘Hey, you may think it’s nothing. But- I’ve never gone longer than a couple of weeks without it. And I haven’t masturbated this much since I first hit puberty,’ he sighed and tongued his cheek, contemplating his next words. ‘I just can’t stop thinking about you, Y/N. And I don’t want anyone else.’

Looking down, you avoided his eyes. His reputation preceded him, and you knew exactly what he was famous for in some circles.

‘Yeah, I did screw around. A lot. But it’s because I chose to. This…’ he motioned between you, ‘is different.’

You scoffed at his words.

‘Spoken like a true fuckboy.’

‘So, you’re gonna hold it against me? What am I guilty of, being young and healthy, being a man? Or never having met anyone I wanted to start something serious with?’

Pursing your lips, you allowed him to continue.

‘I cared about none of those girls, Y/N, and I never told them otherwise. I wasn’t looking for a relationship, only to satisfy my needs. You have no idea how frustrated even a few days of no sex make me. I don’t know, I just have a high sex drive, maybe.’

‘Yeah, I’ve noticed.’ You muttered.

‘I’m serious.’

‘I hear you, Baekhyun,’ you raised your arms, asking him to chill. ‘But I can’t say it doesn’t scare me away. You’re not exactly what they call boyfriend material.’

He exhaled sharply, visibly irritated by your attitude.

‘That’s not fair. I am not going to deny that since the moment I saw you for the first time, all I could think of was getting you naked and underneath me. And maybe for a second, I believed that it was going to solve everything. But it didn’t work,’ he hesitated before clarifying. ‘I never lost my interest in you.’

You scoffed again, this time in offense.

‘So, you just wanted to fuck me to get it out of your system?’

‘Fucking you wasn’t my goal, initially. I- Remember how we met?’

Of course, you remembered. It happened last year at a huge annual gala held by one of the top entertainment broadcasting companies. You ran into each other at the afterparty, conversed, had a good time and genuinely enjoyed each other’s company. At the end of the evening, he insisted on giving you his number…

All in all, it went great, and you even intended to hit him up. Until the next day, when one of your members told you to stay away from him. She said he was trouble and shared that she’d heard plenty of relays of his Casanova adventures on the grapevine. How he liked to mingle with all the pretty young models he conducted photoshoots with, and how managers didn’t let rookies out of their sight whenever they had to work with him. You remembered very well how your high hopes for him had crumbled that day.

‘Yeah, at the gala.’ You answer matter-of-factly. ‘We ran into each other.’

‘The afterparty,’ he nodded. ‘But do not think for a second that we’ve met by accident.’

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion.

‘I don’t follow.’

‘Y/N…’ He shifted on the bed next to you. ‘I ‘bumped’ into you on purpose. I liked you. And I liked you even more by the end of that night, which seemed mutual. But you never called.’

Swallowing, you looked away.

‘I- Heard things. About you. And I didn’t want to be another notch in your belt for people to talk about.’

‘Yet the next time we saw each other, after your group photoshoot… I didn’t come to your dressing room to fuck you, you know? I wanted to ask you out. Discreetly.’

You sneered.

‘Right. Your platonic means didn’t last, as far as I recall.’

‘You’re the one who was at the door wearing nothing but a robe! Also, you dragged me inside.’

‘I didn’t want anyone to see you! You know gossip travels fast.’ You argued.

That wasn’t a lie, you had many eyes on you at the time. Even now being caught together like this could’ve been problematic. You pulled him into your dressing room without thinking. But as soon as you were left alone… Something came over you. It was impossible to bring to mind who made the first move then, but just a few moments later you were already kissing.

That photoshoot started your little ‘tradition’ of having sex after each one.

‘I was too infatuated with you to stop. And you kicked me out so fast afterwards,’ he continued ranting. ‘I know it’s my fault that I didn’t- But it’s not fair for you to judge me. I liked you for a long time, and you always kept me at an arm’s length. You only ever allow me to get close when we fuck.’

‘That’s not- Uh- Maybe it is true. And I told you why.’

‘Come on, Y/N,’ he ruffled his blond hair up in frustration. ‘I admit that I’m no church oppa. Still, that doesn’t mean that I can’t be a good boyfriend.’

‘Up until you don’t see me for longer than a couple weeks. And that’s bound to happen sooner or later.’

He let out a frustrated huff, getting off the bed, pulling his pants up and beginning to pace the room.

‘You’re driving me crazy. Why are you pushing me away? Do you prefer it the way it is now?’

Looking away from him, you gave a soft answer.

‘No.’

‘Then what? Do you even know how many half-nude photoshoots I had in the span of these 3 months? I didn’t even care. At all. The girls seemed disappointed, but I didn’t care. Because none of them were you.’

‘Maybe you just want me because I keep saying ‘no’ to you.’ You sounded unsure, because you were.

Things were popping into your head now, stuff you’d heard on the idol radio in the past few weeks. Like your members gossiping about the main dancer of another group, who was salty about getting turned down by a photographer on a recent occasion. They discussed in great detail what she’d said, and you remembered a couple facts.

The girl was angry, because they’d had sex before and she knew he didn’t do the same person twice. Her pride was hurt since she was sure she could be the one he overlooked his principle for, and he did not. Another thing (you remembered it since your maknae became flaming red when this was brought up) was that… she couldn’t get him to go down on her even the first time. She was pissed, because, apparently, the guy didn’t like oral. Which, in your mind, was certainly proof that it was a different photographer. Baekhyun was the oral sex guy. He loved putting his mouth to good use, and he (like any man) welcomed a casual blowie, so that couldn’t have been him. Unless?

‘What’s your stance on oral sex? Giving?’

Baekhyun stopped pacing and looked at you in surprise.

‘What?’

‘Just answer the damn question.’ You huffed impatiently, letting your feet down to get off the bed as well.

The slow trickle of his seed caused you to cross your legs.

‘I love it. I could do it all day with you. Why?’

‘And with others?’ You clarified, withholding your disappointment.

‘I’ve never done it with others.’ The earnest tone of his voice stunned you.

Reading the look of disbelief on your face, he shrugged.

‘I told you. Fucking was to blow off some steam and nothing more. With you… it’s not.’

He came closer and took your face in his palms.

‘I’ve always been serious about you, Y/N. And I need you to give me the benefit of the doubt.’

‘You’re asking for a lot.’ You closed your eyes as he pressed his forehead to yours.

‘I know. But I promise I’ll do my best to- not fuck this up. It’s new to me. So- don’t get mad at me, just guide me and tell me what you need. I’m a quick study,’ he took a breath, and you realized you needed one as well. ‘If you want me to shower you with flowers or send you sugary ‘good morning’ messages, just say the word. I don’t know how to be a good boyfriend, but I want to be one for you.’

You looked him in the eye, evaluating his sincerity. And he seemed so overwhelmingly genuine that you couldn’t find it in yourself to push him away this time.

‘Okay…’

He blinked.

‘Okay?’

‘Yes. We can… try.’

Baekhyun’s eyes became wide, and he suddenly grabbed you and swirled you around.

‘Sh- no, put me back down!’ You whisper yelled at your… boyfriend?

This was crazy. Your train completely went off the rails.

‘Nicely played!’ The voice behind the door exclaimed.

You both froze, then Baekhyun put you back down, frowning.

That was without a doubt… Kai’s voice.

‘Is he… still here?’ The blond asked out loud.

‘Of course! I couldn’t chill out forever without attracting suspicion. And did you really expect me to not come back to eavesdrop? I’m going back, but Y/N’s manager might be coming up any moment now.’ The voice became more distant by the end of the sentence.

Both of you looked back at the messed up (and cum-stained) bed and the state of your own clothing and makeup.

You swore in unison.

‘Shit!’

Masterlist

A/N: Done with part 2, what about part 3? 🤪 Alright, let's get a breather first. Don't be shy to drop an ask and reblog to give your author here some gratification for the nights of no sleep 😊

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