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#god will take you through the storms
b1gwings · 4 months
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swashbuckler rogue my beloved
#i would never regret the storm sorc/tempest cleric combo that i chose for Bonk because they're an absolute damage MACHINE#but sometimes i wonder who i would be if i had gone down the martial road instead#bonk literally has a pistol and a sword and they're pretty fucking good with both of them. you normally don't see that in sorcerers.#i think my attack bonus with the sword is higher than my spell attack bonus which is kind of insane#next time i level up i have to go through all my spells because honestly im starting to get a little tired of the same old lightning bolt#PLUS now i have transmuted spell so i can just take pretty much any damage spell i want and turn it into lightning damage#for my sweet sweet bonuses#there is just some part of me that needs to play a rogue though. swashbuckler. arcane trickster. soul knife. phantom. anything#normally i don't like playing stealthy characters but there are so many good rogues out there#even a “ruff boi” a la magnus burnsides (fighter/rogue)#multiclassing my beloved too i guess#so hard for me to make a character that i don't multiclass#i might even go paladin/bard with one of my newer characters eventually#inspired by calliope petrichor#but he's different. he'd be a bard because he's a theater kid#but also i want to play a straight up paladin because i want to explore with being a character who has a connection to a god#because i've never done that before#and the themes and motifs are too strong#idk man we'll see how it goes :)#i love dnd#ALSO i feel like i cant make him a bard because i already have TWO OTHER FUCKING BARDS#GUYS (sweating) IM NOT A BARD MAIN I SWEAR#maybe for my paladin i could just take magic adept and learn some bard spells or something? like beverly naddpod? maybe#but it's not about the spells... it's about the performance checks...#i really should be working on my finals right now#im so serious if you've read this far down 1 hi :) and 2 if u have dnd characters PLEASE tell me about them. bats my eyelashes. please
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what if i made a fucked-up tubbo ai that thinks everyone he used to know is dead and their corpses are rotting where he last saw them. like i know that would be horrible but i honestly think it would be a really interesting way to use the ai thing as the developers intended, a new way to create interactive art and stories that write themselves even after you’ve put your pen down
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wonderloste · 2 years
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redoing tags p. 1 : character tags.
#ʚ c. alice liddell ɞ        ⁄      oh you clever little thing‚ what a charming basket case.#ʚ c. white rabbit ɞ        ⁄      if i only could‚ i'd make a deal with god and i’d get him to swap our places.#ʚ c. jabberwock ɞ        ⁄      stroke of luck or gift from god‚ by the hands of fate or devil’s claws.#ʚ c. bandersnatch ɞ        ⁄      worship your body as you walk my way‚ you're the only one who can make me pray.#ʚ c. king of hearts ɞ        ⁄      roses are red and violets are blue‚ from the depths of my gardens our hearts bloomed.#ʚ c. cheshire cat ɞ        ⁄      for now my heart is pierced by cupid and i disdain all glittering gold.#ʚ c. gryphon ɞ        ⁄      you’ve got what it takes to set me free‚ oh‚ you could mean everything to me.#ʚ c. caterpillar ɞ        ⁄      she can crush every hope when i've got her heels stomping down my throat.#ʚ c. mad hatter ɞ        ⁄      and the man who drank the tea and took the pill has locked himself in limbo.#ʚ c. march hare ɞ        ⁄      do you know that you’ve imprisoned yourself like the king of all the capulets.#ʚ c. dormouse ɞ        ⁄      time dancers whirling past‚ i’ve gazed through the looking glass just beyond my grasp.#ʚ c. mock turtle ɞ        ⁄      facing the storm‚ i'm cast out at sea. i'll drown eventually‚ so don't save me.#ʚ c. tweedle-dum ɞ        ⁄      forgiving who you are for what you stand to gain‚ know that if i hide‚ it doesn’t go away.#ʚ c. tweedle-dee ɞ        ⁄      swear to god‚ love seeping from your gun. know that if you hide‚ it doesn’t go away.#ʚ c. red queen ɞ        ⁄      what a lovely time that it would surely be‚ so bite your tongue and choke yourself to sleep.#ʚ c. white king ɞ        ⁄      sometimes the curiosity can kill the soul but leave the pain.#ʚ c. gnat ɞ        ⁄      weep not poor dreamers‚ i’ll show thee the way through all the pain and the sorrows.#ʚ c. duchess ɞ        ⁄      she lost her voice down by the river‚ screaming for courage and called it her terror.#ʚ c. raven ɞ        ⁄      all the queens and the court jesters clapped‚ adored‚ but a trophy of mercy is a trophy no more.#ʚ c. nobody ɞ        ⁄      but you won’t cry for my absence‚ i know. you’ve all forgot me long ago.
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venuslut · 2 months
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FANTASIZING ABOUT being fucked by Sukuna’s stomach tongue ♡.
He’ll beckon you over, feeling generous, and loosen your kimono to where you’re basically naked, hanging on by your obi. Sukuna grabbed your waist and pulled you onto his lap, positioning you so that you straddled his waist. The mouth on his abdomen formed and opened with a sinister grin, its lips parting as if it were ready to devour you. The elongated tongue that emerged from it was slick and glistening, invitingly beckoning you closer.
“Go ahead," Sukuna rasped, his voice filled with dark desire. "Ride me, brat."
Hesitantly, you lowered yourself onto his mouth. Feeling the wet warmth of his waiting mouth against your most intimate parts. His tongue, long and sinuous, flicked out to taste you, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. The sensation was both invasive and exhilarating, the slickness of his tongue gliding against your folds, teasing your sensitive clit sending shivers down your spine and a weak cry left your lips.
Sukuna gave you a few seconds to stew in the feeling before his hands tightened their grip on your hips, and brought you down to fully sit on his mouth. His tongue curled and twisted inside you, hitting all the right spots, driving you to the brink of ecstasy. Each thrust of your hips brought you closer and closer to the edge, the pleasure building within you like a raging storm. Making your breath hitch and your body tremble with need. Sukuna uses his lips and tongue to worship your most sensitive areas, alternating between delicate licks and harder, rhythmic strokes. Sukuna's hands, warm and possessive, slide up your sides, his fingers digging slightly into your flesh. He keeps his touch firm, grounding you as you ride the waves of pleasure. His mouth and tongue work relentlessly, building the intensity of your pleasure with every passing second.
As he devours you with his sinful mouth, he keeps his eyes locked on yours, drinking in the sight of your ecstasy. He wants nothing more than to bring you to the peak of pleasure, to feel you quiver against his lips, and to drink in every drop of your sweet release. “God, you’re so…pathetic,” he bloviated, amused at your shameless display of eroticism. While you are in your own world of pleasure, Sukuna raised one arm from his top set and one from his lower set to cup your breasts that were bouncing enticingly in front of him. You didn’t think too much of it outside of the usual stimulation until you felt a wet and slimy feeling touch your breasts, and you realized that he was using the mouths on his hands to lick your boobs.
You mewled as his mouths began sucking and teasing your hardened nipples with his tongue. Lavishing attention to your sensitive peaks. Your body arches, your chest poking out to push deeper into his hands. It is intense. His tongue alternates between your cunt and your clit before focusing on the sensitive bundle of nerves, abusing it til you see stars. Your feedback is choppy, like your brain can’t comprehend how good his ministrations are making you feel. Only broken moans escape your lips and you shudder. “You love getting used like this, huh?” He remarked in a condescending tone, smirking because he knows you can’t even register what he’s saying. “Moaning like a bitch in heat, you must love getting used like a whore,” he continued.
The sounds of your moans reverberated through the grand hall and Sukuna loved how dumb you were acting. Taking the experience to a new level, he took his free hand from his lower set of arms to reach behind you and place a hand over your ass. He was slick, coming in slow and then when you least expected it, he opened the mouth on his hand and stuck his tongue in your asshole. Your eyes that were downcast and glazed over immediately shot open and you shrieked in surprise. That was the catalyst to your orgasm and you released all over his tongue, the slithery appendage lapped up every drop of your juices eagerly, not letting a single ounce go to waste. The taste of your climax on his tongue is like ambrosia, and he relishes in the way your body tenses and spasms against his mouth. And when your release was done, went back into your cunt to resume fucking you to your next orgasm. You quickly began to squirm in his hold and tried to move away from the hand that penetrated your puckered hole, but was held down by Sukuna’s imposing grip.
He grinned evilly at your reaction, “what? You’re telling me you’ve never had anything in this hole?” You shook your head frantically as tears began to well in your eyes, uncomfortable at the sensation of his tongue wriggling around in your asshole. “No… it’s dirty,” you sniffed, feeling shame creep up on you. “Well, I’m happy to be the first. You should be honored, I’m teaching you how to be a proper whore for your husband,” he mused. His tongue extended and curled deeper into you, pressing into sensitive spots you didn’t know you had. This all so knew to you and it came so suddenly, all you wanted to do was run away from this newfound pleasure. His words only served to embarrass you further and make you want to try harder to get away.
Sukuna narrowed his eyes in annoyance at your incessant squirming, smacking your ass with his only free hand. “Behave.” He commanded, his voice deep and domineering, sending a fearful shiver of dread down your stomach. His command making you still immediately. But as you still, all the pleasure comes at you, receiving stimulation from the tongue in your cunt, the mouths on your nipples, and now the tongue in your asshole. Being confronted with all these different types of oral stimulants, you cum quick and without warning. You feel the pleasure burn through your tummy and legs. You cry out, unable to control your voice or your shuttering, digging your nails into his chest and leaving long red scratches. Sukuna could heal those easily, but he wants to leave them there to heal on their own, so he can parade them around like a trophy. He revels in the way you lose control, in the way you let the pleasure consume you, and he wants to have those moments etched into his skin.
And while he appreciates your sounds of ecstasy, you’re beginning to get a little too loud for him. Taking his last free hand, he places it over your mouth, the mouth on his palm eagerly latched onto you, its tongue exploring your mouth with an animalistic hunger. As Sukuna's tongue expertly danced with yours, his other two hands removed themselves from your breasts and found their way to your hips, his grip possessive and demanding. He pulled you off his stomach mouth and moved you lower, the bulge in his robes pressing against your thigh, a clear indication of his own undeniable desire from seeing you come undone. Sukuna took his hand away and broke the kiss, a string of saliva connecting your lips as he pulled away, a wicked grin etched on his face. He had only begun to savor the taste of your submission, and he had no intention of stopping anytime soon.
"Now, my little whore," he whispered huskily, his voice laced with an intoxicating mix of sadism and lust. "Let's see how long you can handle my insatiable hunger. I didn’t prepare your tight little holes for nothing."
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teaboot · 22 days
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As someone who learnt english as a second language via textbook, I have to say "flying by the seat of my pants" is a hilarious idiom xD
It's the first time I've seen/heard it.
Could you share another one you like using?
Idk about idioms specifically, but there's a bunch of phrases I learned from my mom!
Lord love a duck! (Incredulous, like 'oh my god')
Lord suffer in sheep dip! (Sheep dip meaning sheep poop. Incredulous, but for annoying things- like 'are you kidding me?')
Is there a piano tied to your ass? ('Don't be lazy, do it yourself')
Someone's cruising for a bruising. (You're picking a fight.)
I don't give a rat's rip. ('I don't care'- a rat's 'rip' is it's butt crack.)
Pull up a stump! (Get yourself a chair, sit down.)
Everybody out of the pool! (Get out of the car)
I'm flying by the seat of my pants. (I have no idea what I'm doing, but I'm doing it.)
Don't go blowing smoke up my ass. (Don't over-compliment me, don't flatter me, don't stroke my ego, don't tell me positive lies)
Looks like it's gonna rain on our parade. (A storm is coming.)
Sorry to rain on your parade. (I've given you bad news- can be used sincerely or sarcastically to denote sympathy for incurring a bad mood.)
Better button that lip. (Stop talking.)
Someone's gonna stick a boot up your ass. ('Stick a boot up your ass'- fight you, beat you, kick your ass.)
Stick that lip out any further, and a pigeon'll shit on it. (Stop whining.)
Suck it up, buttercup. (Stop whining.)
Dumber than a fence post. (Very stupid.)
The back forty. (The wild or forested area behind a rural home. The 'forty' being forty acres, or farmland.)
Don't go begging for a fat lip. (Whatever you're saying or doing is going to bother people and get you in trouble.)
What on God's green earth (What the fuck)
I'm sweating like a pig in a porta-potty (like a pig in a plastic outhouse- I'm very warm, it's hot here)
He thinks the universe flew out of his ass. (He thinks he's more impressive than he is.)
Your mouth wrote a cheque your ass couldn't cash. (You promised more than you were capable of providing.)
You've got a horseshoe up your ass. (You're very, very lucky.)
Taking a dirt nap. (Dead.)
Pushing (up) daisies. (Dead.)
Give me forty acres to turn this rig around. (I need time and space to move this large, heavy, or unwieldy thing. Usually about navigating a vehicle. Taken from a song lyric.)
Jesus take the wheel. (God help me, I can't handle this, I give up.)
Gone belly-up. (Has died.)
We've got a floater. (This one is dead.)
Herding cats. (Trying to organize chaos, managing an impossibly complicated situation.)
I've got a black thumb. (I am bad at growing plants, all my plants die- reference to having a 'green thumb', or being good at growing plants.)
Stop trackin' floor cookies. (Floor cookies are bits of animal shit that fall off your work boots- 'tracking floor cookies' means wearing your boots in the house; take your shoes off at the door.)
Running around like a headless chicken. (Frantic, disorganized, stressed out by many tasks or panicked by a big situation.)
Spinning my wheels. (Waiting around for something to happen, getting nowhere, frustrated by inactivity, not making any progress towards a goal.)
He's gonna blow a gasket. (He's going to lose his temper, he's going to be angry.)
They'll tan your hide. (They'll punish you severely; usually through violence. Specifically in reference to a spanking.)
He's a few bricks short a load. (He's not clever / he doesn't think things through / he's crazy)
Not the sharpest tool in the shed. (Not the smartest person. Very dumb, clumsy, or absent-minded.)
I'm not going to bail you out. (Not going to save your sinking boat- not going to help you out of your bad situation.)
Looks like things are going south. (The situation is growing worse.)
I'll start making tracks. (I'll leave now, I'll start working, I'll get going.)
He's fucking the dog. (He's not being productive, he's doing a bad job, he's made things worse, he's screwing around.)
He's making puppies. (Less graphic version of 'fucking the dog'.)
Plant your ass. (Sit.)
Playing grab-ass. (Procrastinating- accomplishing nothing, slowing people down.)
He couldn't find his ass in the dark. (He's stupid, ineffective, underqualified, or incompetent.)
He couldn't pour water out of a boot if the instructions were on the heel. (He is unbelievably, comically dumb or ineffective. He can't do anything right.)
One foot in the ground. (Dying, or half-dead.)
I'm kicking rocks. (I'm not doing anything productive.)
I'm hauling ass. (I'm running away.)
Madder than a wet hen. (Very, very angry.)
Like I said I'm not sure that these are all idioms but they're all the phrases and sayings from my childhood that I can remember right now
EDIT: Cannot BELIEVE I forgot my mom's favourite
52. Wish in one hand, shit in the other, see which gets filled first. (Wishes don't come true by themselves)
Plus some more I forgot:
53. You make a better door than a window. (You're in the way of my view.)
54. You can take a long walk off a short pier. (Go fuck yourself.)
55. He's about as sharp as a bowling ball. (He's stupid.)
56. Scoot your poot. (Move over.)
57. Not my first rodeo. (I know what I'm doing.)
58. He's built like a brick shithouse. (He's broad and sturdy and very strong, solid.)
59. I smell bacon. (I saw a cop nearby.)
60. I don't want to hear a peep. (Stop talking.)
61. You're thinking with the wrong head. (You're making bad decisions because you're horny.)
62. I'd lose my ass/head if it wasn't tied on. (I'm very absent-minded, forgetful.)
63. That went down like a lead balloon. (That situation was bad.)
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sp0o0kylights · 4 months
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Steve Harrington was wearing a Hellfire t-shirt.
It was far too tight on him, the name of the club stretched wide over his chest. The sleeves dug into his biceps, making them pop even more than they usually did, and that was before he crossed his arms. 
Worse?
It was short.
Which meant the damn shirt was constantly riding up to give everyone a nice show of the smattering of hair that trailed down past the band of Harrington's jeans. 
The same hair that Eddie was determinedly not looking at. 
“Henderson, a moment?” He crooked a finger, a smile on his face that was more feral than welcoming. 
Rather than cower or even acknowledge that Eddie was two seconds away from murder, Dustin just gave him a gummy grin, all too pleased with himself and his scheme. 
“Sure Eddie. Steve, don't just stand there, go help set the booth up!” Dustin gestured to Hellfire’s sad little table, crammed all the way in the back of the gym. 
Jeff and Gareth both reacted to the suggestion like a rabid squirrel had been set upon them, nervously inching towards the other side of the booth as Harrington sighed and--shockingly--did as he was told.
‘What,’ Eddie thought angrily, ‘in the everloving fuck.’
“Do you guys mind if I set this down on the table?” Eddie heard Harrington ask as he stormed away, Dustin on his heel. 
They wandered just around the corner, out of sight and hopefully, out of the fallen king’s hearing range.
Eddie wasn't sure if Harrington would try and white knight the very much deserved dressing down he was about to give. 
Didn’t want to chance it, considering the downright weird relationship he had with Hellfire's freshmen.
(While he’d heard many a tale at his table regarding King Steve since the newest recruits had joined Hellfire, most of them dissolved into arguments without ever really going anywhere.
 Best anyone could figure out was that Dustin and Lucas had a bad case of hero worship, while Mike owned a begrudging amount of respect that hailed from a series of misadventures. 
The very same misadventures that, despite all protests to the contrary, was clearly some sort of babysitting gig for Harrington.) 
Either way, plenty of the King’s court would have loved to take this opportunity to fuck with Hellfire.
Given that Henderson was absolutely too old to require a babysitter at fourteen, Eddie would bet his lunch money that was what Steve was here to do.
Something the club couldn’t afford since they were forever and always two seconds away from being stripped of club status and banned from school grounds. 
“I would love to know what went through that all A’s brain of yours when I said,” Eddie whirled on Dustin when they were firmly in the clear, voice low and furious.  “no Henderson, do not invite King Steve to help, he is an invading force and would ruin our peaceful kingdom!?”
He clasped his hands behind his back before leaning into Dustin’s face. “Because clearly whatever you heard wasn’t that.” 
To Eddie’s continued frustration and confusion, Dustin did not treat this like the threat it was. 
None of the freshmen had ever truly treated Eddie like a threat--had somehow skipped that part of the usual onboarding ritual entirely.
Eddie, town freak and drug dealer, who had cultivated his looks and craziness to such a degree that most everyone steered clear, wasn’t used to it. 
Everyone had been afraid of him at some point in this shitty school. Jeff, Gareth, hell even half the staff--and that the dorky trio of fourteen year old's clearly thought this all was play-acting made his eye twitch.
Even if it was--maybe, sometimes--welcome. 
“I know what you said, but I’m telling you I’m right.” Dustin argued immediately, and oh God, he was using that tone again. 
A hand went up into the space between them and Eddie groaned aloud, knowing what was coming.
“First,” Dustin ticked a finger up, “Hellfire really needs the money. Even thirty dollars would get us new figures, but more than that, if we don’t fundraise, we can’t go to Gen Con!” 
Dustin's eyes bored into Eddie’s, full of fire and conviction
“Yes,” Eddie said through gritted teeth, “but--”
“Second!” Dustin cut him off, and God the little shit even threw him a look while he did it, like Eddie was the one being ridiculous here!
“We had to fight just to get our table! Principal Higgins was in algebra today practically begging the mathletes to show up, but then tried to tell us we couldn't be here? That’s messed up!” 
As if denying them a spot to fundraise was the worst thing that asshole had ever done.
Eddie sighed, breath blasting out of his mouth like a dragon’s. 
“Because people think we’re freaks and satanists, Henderson. You don’t typically invite freaks and satanists to the school’s annual Holiday Bazaar. Especially not when all the local moms are paying to hawk their bullshit crafts and tupperware!” 
It was more than that of course. The Hawkins High Holiday Bazaar was a tradition spanning several years now. Starting in the gym and spilling clear into the parking lot, everyone from local artists to even some local shops came to host a small table for the day, thus growing the event from a small school fundraiser to a Hawkins' “must-do.” 
Half the fucking town was here to sell, and the other half was here to shop, which meant Principle Higgins had wanted Hellfire banned from the fucking premise. 
Eddie had been forced to pull out one of his trump cards he’d been saving--blackmail on Higgins that related to the man’s not--so--legal addiction to Percocet that he relied on Reefer Rick for. 
(And bless Rick, that hadn’t been the only tidbit he’d shared with Eddie about Higgins. That information, however, Eddie needed just so the asshat wouldn’t give him the boot from school entirely.) 
The only reason Eddie had pulled it out to secure their rightful spot, was because of Gen Con. 
It was Hellfire's White Whale, their grand adventure, and this was going to be his year to take his friends on one last epic quest to make memories of a lifetime surrounded by people who understood them.
Come hell or high water, Eddie was going to Gen Con--but being able to fundraise by selling wares and baked goods at the stupid Holiday Bazaar would go a long way to help.
Even if he had to listen to the band repeatedly play ear-bleeding renditions of Christmas songs.
“All the clubs get to have a table, and we’re a club!” Dustin continued, like it was that simple. “But you know, I get it. We look scary.” 
He gestured down to his own Hellfire shirt, before gesturing towards Eddie’s entire outfit.
Like Eddie didn't know what he looked like, let alone that he'd made this outfit specifically to scare people away from him.
(And maybe add some rockstar flair to this dinky little hick town.)
“You know who doesn’t look scary?”
Dustin held out his hands and swiveled his body like he was presenting a prize instead of gesturing in the vague direction of; 
“Steve!”
Eddie’s left eye twitched.
‘You can't kill him, you need his character for the campaign.’ He told himself firmly, even if he envisioned strangling Dustin like a chicken.
Cartoon squawking and all. 
“The King isn’t going to help us fundraise, Dustin.” Eddie said, in an effort to break down why Harrington couldn't be here. “He's just going to cause us problems that we can’t afford to have.” 
So many problems, half of which Eddie couldn't think of because if he did, he'd start spiraling.
“Really? Because as you keep saying, Steve used to be the King. People love him, Eddie! Mom’s love him.”
Eddie had pulled himself black up to his proper height a while ago, and now rocked back on his heels while he ran a hand down his face.
There was no getting through to Henderson when he was like this. 
Not unless Eddie really lost it, and it was practically club lore that he only lost it when someone missed an important game. 
One cannot keep a herd of sheep if their flock is terrified of them, after all. 
(“Perhaps you’re just a giant fucking softie.” Tiff, one of Hellfire’s graduating members, told him once. “Honestly dude, I bet you throw up stuffing.”
“Shut up Tiffany, your choker is on backwards again.” He'd spat back, completely offended and not at all trying to distract from how true that was.) 
“We can’t be satanic if Steve’s the one selling cookies!” Dustin finished doggedly. 
“We’re not even selling cookies--that’s not the point!”” Eddie shook his head, hair flying. He was not going to be sidetracked, he wasn’t!
 “Harrington is going to end up siding with all the moms about how we’re all wasting time with D&D, if he even spends the whole time at the table. Is that what you want?” 
He stuck out a ringed finger, poking at Dustin’s chest.
“Every single person who comes by our table has to be convinced D&D is a writing and math based game. Good for the mind and souls of growing, impressionable children. A game that got a bad rep because of  a few silly images.” 
A pitch he and Tiff had come up with during the third or fourth time they had to convince an adult that no, just because their shirts had a dragon on it, didn’t mean they were summoning demons in the drama room. 
“Harrington can’t do that because Harrington doesn’t even know how to play!” 
This Eddie punctuated by throwing his hands in the air. 
Given the startled look of the mother-daughter duo passing him by, clearly was louder than he’d intended--but screw it!
He was right!
Hellfire was in a precarious position to both fundraise and do a little damage control among the slightly smarter members of this shithole small town, and Harrington rolling his eyes and gossiping about how stupid it was would hinder that.
“Okay, first of all, Steve’s played D&D with me and he didn’t even kill his character.” Dustin said it like he was unveiling a smoking gun and not lying through his ass--which Eddie would absolutely be calling him on the second he was done talking. 
Because King Steve? Play D&D?
'Ha!'
“And he’s not gonna say shit because we--me, and Lucas and even Mike!--asked him to help, and he helps when its serious. I know you have some weird grudge with him, but I’m telling you Eddie he’s our golden ticket to Gen Con!” 
“You’re killing me. You are standing here, acting as a friend, when you are bringing a-- a dark force into the midst our of mission--” Eddie hissed, because he was losing the fucking fight and he knew it.
Dustin Henderson was not a man easily swayed. 
Had never been, even when the odds were stacked against him (and Grant and Gareth were howling in his ear.) 
The set of his shoulders and the glint of the little shithead’s eye meant Eddie wouldn’t be able to use him to oust Harrington--if he even could get him out without the dick causing a massive scene anyway. 
As always when outgunned, Eddie flipped to dramatics.
“Betrayed! By my own chosen heir no less!” He moaned, pressing the back of his hand over his eyes as Dustin scoffed.
"Don’t be so dramatic! Steve will help, I promise! Just don’t be a dick to him.” 
 Conversation apparently over, Dustin turned around to head back to the table
Snidely, he added over his shoulder: “Plus we’ve all caught on to the heir thing Eddie. You tell everyone that so they do what you want.” 
The dick.
“You’re too fucking smart for your own good. I’m gonna start feeding you paint chips to bring that IQ down.” Eddie muttered angrily as Dustin went back to their little table.
He gave himself a moment to get his shit together and stomp a foot like a child when Dustin was around the corner and thus couldn’t witness it, before following his wayward sheep back.
Could only pray to any deity listening that Henderson’s meddling didn’t blow up in Hellfire’s face.
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drunkhazed · 6 months
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Gods & Monsters (p. sh, l. hs)
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pairing. step-brother sunghoon x female reader x step-brother heeseung
genre. step-siblings AU, pwp, dubcon, fluff smut humor angst etc
warnings. morally grey characterizations(mostly Sunghoon), profanity, toxicity, mentions of body/weight, sibling rivalry, cheating, mentions of death, full smut warnings under cut. minors DNI.
wc. 23,000+
now playing. Gods & Monsters//Lana Del Rey
a/n. dear readers, I know you have waited and waited and waited, and I want to say thank you for that, I appreciate the patience🫶 please remember to be nice, I hope it was worth the wait🩷 ps- apologizing now for reblogging this to tag everyone, and double apology to anyone I did not get, forgive me🩷🩷🩷
smut warnings. Sunghoon’s mean… Heeseung isn’t, coercion, blackmailing, dirty talk, use of ‘princess/baby/good girl’, degradation, praise, throat/breast-fucking, oral, spitting, spanking, choking, desperation, overstimulation, unprotected sex.
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“I still can’t believe they’re related.” 
The brothers in question exit from the same car, the older of the two coming out of the backseat drowning in a black hoodie that hangs past his fingers, masking his eyelids where the hood droops over his head. Some old vintage band hoodie perhaps, the logo too tattered and faded to read. He moves like a black cloud amidst the drizzle of the beginning of a storm. Slow, dangerous, impending, waking shivers up bystander’s spines with his presence.
The younger strides statuesquely in all his glory, head held high flaunting his perfectly sculpted 90 degree jawline that could cut through glass windows. His steps move in a sleek stride, akin to floating in the way he moves as if no crack, rock, or rigged ground could break his model-like Paris fashion week runway walk. His steely gaze never deters, not once distracted by the many calls of fawning and giggles following his lead.
“They’re so opposite.” Your friends continue to chatter, whispering in front of you where you stand by the school’s parking lot sharing your morning greetings; most of the time before class is consumed by gossip and recounts of the weekend, the usual banter you mindlessly sift through. “I guess they look somewhat alike, both tall.. slender, similar in build.”
They shrug and turn to face you, eyebrows lifting curiously and deviously grinning. “You probably know better than anyone now that your mom’s dating their dad.”
Your friends chortle back and forth for a minute about how even Mr. Park is still attractive at his age, and it’s a shame that both brothers don’t take after their father. “Well? Come on,” one of them pokes at your arm. “Don’t be selfish, spill!”
They want to know more about the Park brothers, details you can’t divulge into, because really you don’t know much yourself. No more than every other student that may share a class here and there with one.
“Bet she has a crush on one of them.” You hear between a giggle, a round of laughs bursting and vocals rising in pitch.
“Heeseung’s so her type, bet she’s already hooking up with him.”
“Nah, Sunghoon has something about him behind that cleancut preppy image, you can tell he’s hiding some secrets.”
“I’ve only met them once,” you interrupt before they can continue to dissect and assume. “They seem..” shrugging you fail to come up with much else, heading off to class unable to tear your thoughts away from the two brothers.
Opposite from each other would be an understatement. They’re completely unlike, a scale weighed down on one end as the other lifts high, lit up by light and praise.
The first and only time you met the boys outside of school had been over dinner, your mother had been a nervous wreck; spinning and running around in a frenzy, forcing you to wear some high-collared prim and proper dress that hit below your knees. ‘Can’t have Mr. Park thinking I’ve raised some floozy now can I sweetie?’
Meanwhile, a frown etched your face as you gazed across the table where two men sat uninterested, phone in hand, still sporting their same attire from school earlier. Nonetheless their father showed up dapper as ever, crisp suit and tie, hair coiffed back neatly away from his face displaying every feature even in the candle-lit all too fancy restaurant he’d dragged you all to. 
‘I’ll order for us.’ Mr. Park carried himself with a confident arrogance, one passed onto only one of his sons from what you could tell.
‘Now boys, put the phones away.’ He said shortly, lips pursed together glaring daggers at the two. ‘And sit up straight would you? What have I told you about hunching over Heeseung? Remove that damn hood while you’re at it, this is a fine dining establishment not In-N-Out.’
Mr. Park snapped quickly, his demeanor immediately altering when taking in your mother, speaking to her in a sugary sweet tone. ‘You look absolutely breathtaking tonight my love.’
She flushed, making your nose twitch in disgust and divert your attention away to the menu, anything to not stare ahead at Sunghoon’s flawless side-profile, not that you hadn’t taken the time to while he scrolled engrossed through his phone, fingers tapping and tapping while a smirk grew on his lips.
The evening had been uneventful for the most part, your parents gushing about their trip to Greece last month; the one that your mother came back from squealing and proclaiming ‘I think he’s the one.’
Mr. Park had quite a bit to say about Sunghoon though, clasping his son on the shoulder with a pride-filled smile. ‘One day he’ll be my senior VP, my Hoon’s got a bright future ahead of him. Real smart boy this one, got offered a free ride through university without even needing my help or a generous donation.’
Sunghoon laughed deeply, waving off his father’s praise. ‘It’s all thanks to you dad, seriously what good would I be without your aid to finance the best education.’ 
A pearly white sharp smile had your mother gushing, letting out a cringe-worthy sigh with her palms pressed together. ‘Oh, all my hard work to provide the same and here mine is failing three of her easiest classes.’
‘Mom!’
‘Ah, yes, it seems you can deliver the ingredients on a silver platter, even hand feed them and your children could still disappoint you.’ Mr. Park’s eyes thinned, head tilting in the direction of his elder son. Heeseung avoided him, continuing to lose himself in some mobile game with his phone hidden beneath the table as he had all night. ‘But you know, Hoon’s a great tutor, so good that I’ve had teachers beg me to let him work over summer. Education comes first of course, don’t want him to stress and take on too much while interning at my company over break.’
Mr. Park motions toward you, cocking an eyebrow. ‘Maybe he could help you this school year, I’ll even allow him to do it for free.’
Sunghoon hid a grimace behind his smile, nodding and blinking rapidly at his father’s suggestion. ‘Would love to.’
He’d made you swap contact information, but Sunghoon never bothered to reach out and set-up any sessions. Not as if he had the opportunity to approach you in class, not that he even knew you shared any classes.
Deep in thought you strolled to the back of the class, slumping into your seat to tune out and lose yourself, much like everyone else who opted to hide out from questions and eye-contact with the professors.
Heeseung always loomed back here as well, the corner preferred, an oversized hood tugged over his head to shadow the upper half of his face leaving his lips mostly visible. Most likely as unaware of your presence as you once were of his, at least until that dinner.
You could say something to him, reach out and tap his shoulder, start to wave to greet him when you enter class.. something about that night crossed your mind time and time again, pivoting the sour thoughts away; your mom and Mr. Park could always break-up anyway. 
Mom💞: ‘Have important news tonight sweetie, come home right after school!’
“I wanted to tell you before the official announcement gets sent out.” Your mother smiles wide before you as if a clothes hanger has gotten lodged between her cheeks.
“What announcement?”
“As you know, things have escalated quickly between myself and Mr. Park.” She continues, grabbing a hold of your hands to control the anxious tremor rolling through her limbs. “I know you loved your father more than anyone, as did I, but you know how happy Mr. Park has made me.”
The rest of her words blend with white static noise filling your ears. It was inevitable that this day would come eventually, from the first time you peaked through your window blinds and caught sight of her flirting with your next door neighbor as they pretended to water the bushes and shared sneaking smiles, the itch up your spine resembling a warning.
“We’re moving in together.” She finishes, chewing at her lower lip nervously. “All of us.”
All of us.
Mom. Mr. Park. You.
and his two sons.
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“Sunghoon’s really smart.” Your mother forces a smile after reading an e-mail from your professor over your shoulder. “I’m sure Jinyeong mentioned something about one of his sons tutoring to make extra money, couldn’t have possibly been about Heeseung.”
Typing out a response to your professor about her jam-packed schedule and that she will outsource educational assistance for you, she huffs, leaning back after hitting send. “That Sunghoon is a God-send if you ask me.”
I didn’t ask. 
“I’ll have to beg him to help you out, maybe his father can encourage him with extra incentive.” Frowning at you, she tugs on the flimsy string of your tank top. “What have I told you about covering up more around the house? We live with men again, you can’t walk around displaying all of your body so carelessly anymore.”
Your mother could really care less if you feel offended by her commentary on your appearance, evident by her gaze scanning downward with an irritable tweak tugging her lip. “You know, I don’t pay for all these cute little gym sets for you to use as loungewear. When’s the last time you worked out? Slacking off in school and doing a poor job of maintaining your figure? What type of honorable hard-working man do you think you’ll be able to attract with no brains or looks to your advantage?”
“Yes mother.”
“Yes what?”
“Uh.” Sitting up ramrod straight, you frazzle, having tuned her out some minutes ago. “I’ll study harder and workout more.”
“And?” She nods to a baggy full of grapes by your side, cocking a snarky eyebrow at you.
“Oh..” you’re tempted to mutter something about how you’ve only had a handful, not even having time yet today to eat a proper meal. She wouldn’t care anyway. “Eat less.”
She grins, reaching over to tuck loose tendrils behind your ear. “You should pop into Jinyeong’s home gym downstairs, there’s even a sauna, it’s lovely.”
Unfortunately for you, she’s right, your step-father’s home gym is lovely.
“Rich people really live differently.” You mumble, popping your headphones on to warm-up with a walk on the treadmill. You can’t complain about your new living situation, Jinyeong, as he insists you call him now(because you both know dad would be too weird) has been extremely welcoming and accommodating to not only your mother but you as well. His sons on the other hand, too soon to say much about.
Heeseung has hardly spoken more than a few words, just as closed off and quiet as he comes across at school, and Sunghoon, well Sunghoon is perfect.
10 minutes of humming along to your sweat playlist and bouncing random thoughts around, you walk the gym contemplating if today should be an upper or lower body day, one accidental glance at your backside in the mirror solidifies your decision to focus on your lower half today.
“Deadlifts it is.” You groan to yourself, wiping your palms free of moisture before adjusting the weight. “No way Jinyeong lifts 150…”
“He doesn’t.” A loud deep tone passes beyond the low volume of your music, making you gasp and turn around in your bent position too fast, easily losing your balance and landing on your ass.
Sunghoon glares at you from the entrance, trudging in with a loose muscle tank and sweats on. “What the hell are you doing in here?”
“Uhm, working out?”
He scowls, watching you struggle to get back up as he steps around you to steal your spot before the barbell. “And why pretel do you think you can be here during my time?”
“Your time?” You guffaw, tempted to roll your eyes. “Well damn, I didn’t know we had a schedule to adhere to?”
“You think you’re funny.” Continuing to glower, he shoos you away with one hand, directing his chin toward the door. “Ha ha, now leave.”
“I just got here?!”
“I could care less.” Sunghoon’s jaw tightens, fully flexed in all its sharp glory. “Alexa, play Hoon’s Workout.”
To your disgust, Jay Park blasts through the speakers hung from corner to corner, the familiar beat of MOMMAE plays around you.
Of course he listens to Jay Park.. douche.
“I said get lost.” He rasps, stretching his digits out to wrap around the barbell.
Allowing your eyes to roll up, you shrug and glance around opting to set up on a yoga mat to stretch while he occupies the squat rack area. Sunghoon snarls behind you, annoyed that you won’t take the message he’s stated loud and clear to leave. 
What are you even doing here? Do you even workout? He grunts, hoisting the barbell up with a burn building up in his thighs and calves, peering out of the corner of his eye where you’ve begun to stretch.
Nice ass. 
Wait. 
What.
Shaking his head, he turns away to take a swig from his water, rubbing the heel of his palm against his eyelids. Licking his lips, he throws his head back for more, turning casually to watch your ass push out as you stretch your waist and back on all fours.
What the fuck. 
Sunghoon coughs, clearing his throat before returning to his lifting stance, adrenaline pumping faster with each sneaking look he steals as you twist and groan with a crack coming from your back. The stretch has you faced away, a perfect opportune moment to get a real good look, taking in a deep gulp as he squints to admire how obscene your workout shorts are; scrunched deep enough between your ass to show off everything, absolutely everything.
He groans, half from the ache in his lower back, half from the ache forming between his thighs. Sunghoon shakes it off, whatever it is, toying with the ring suddenly tightening up on his finger. “Hey, you.”
He says, intending to come off rude. “I’m done over here now.”
Without much more, he turns to the free weights, going for the 50 lbs to warm up his triceps. An excited jump swoops through his stomach as you get up and make your way back to the squat rack, adjusting the weight to less than half of what he normally does his reps with. His tongue clicks upon noticing that from the mirror where he watches you get into position, moving away from the barbell on the floor to lower your shoulders beneath the rack. 
“Terrible form.” He mutters, unknowingly too loud with your music paused for this very reason.
“Excuse me?” You snap, turning at your neck to glare at him. “You still have more to say?”
Sunghoon drops the weights obnoxiously, loudly landing on the foam mats. “Your form looks like shit.” He smirks, turning around and snapping his fingers. “Who taught you to curve your spine like that? That’s a sure way to hurt yourself, princess.”
“Don’t call me that.” You say with a disgusted sneer. “My forms fine.”
“It’s trash.”
“You’re trash.”
“Oooh, you get a lot of reaction with those comebacks?” His tongue clicks repeatedly, stepping up behind your back to grab your hips. “This.” He smacks the side of your thigh, igniting a jolt up your back. “Squeeze your ass and stomach in, at the same time princess.”
Against your better judgment and that little irritating voice squealing in the back of your mind at the close proximity you’ve landed yourself in to the Park Sunghoon, you do as he says, albeit struggling to hold in your core and glute muscles. “Good good.” He says in a low whisper much too close behind you, palms dragging up to your waist to squeeze. “Now bend your knees, the back of your ankles better be hitting your ass if you’re doing it right.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“As a heart attack.” He grins, pressing closer until his groin meets your bottom. “Eventually you should be able to hit that, if you’re doing it right.”
Sunghoon would know after all, slowly licking his lips behind you, he focuses on the low groan vibrating out from your chest as you push back up to stand and huff.
“See how that felt different than that weak shit you were doing?”
“Whatever.” Rolling your eyes, you squat for the next 10 minutes, thighs on fire from engaging your muscles in a new, different way. Dumb jerk was right, of course he was.
“Not too shabby.” Sunghoon says, handing you a water bottle from the mini-fridge, because yes, even their gym has a fridge. “But you could be better.”
His pointed teeth protrude at the next roll of your eyes, wrapping long fingers around your upper arm before you’re able to get away. “This wasn’t an invitation by the way, I better not see you in here again during my gym time.”
He winks, smacking your backside as he shoves your arm away. “And I mean that!”
Grunting, you pat off the sweat from your back, ready to hit him with a round of offensive drags about his form.
Sunghoon’s back muscles greet you as you turn back around, jaw falling to the floor with each twitchy flex they give as his triceps burst and he groans with each lift.
Right.
Things could be worse.
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Things could definitely be worse.
Things are definitely worse.
After another email from your professor, your mother begged over dinner for your step-brother to help you pass the classes you’re lacking in. Much to his reluctance and added bribery from his father, he agreed with a forced wide smile, glaring ominously at you from the corner of his eye
“This is such a waste of time.” Sunghoon hasn’t tried to make any qualms about his disdain for your current predicament. Moaning and groaning more than actually bothering to assist you or answer your questions in any type of way, at least when he’s not fixing his perfectly blown out hair if even a strand moves out of place.
“I took this class last year.” He continues to whine. “Wasn’t even hard, well..” his eyes drag over to one side, head shaking at your less than flattering hunched over position. “Wasn’t hard for me, but I suppose for someone like you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” You’re quick to snap back, leaning away from your study guide to stretch your arms above your head. Sunghoon doesn’t bother to hide taking in the arch your spine lifts into, chest pushed upward the more you lean back to loosen your shoulders. He even hums appraisingly, pursing out his lips pleased.
“When we were working out together the other day, I noticed something about you.” 
“Before or after you chewed me out for invading your space?” You snicker, rolling your eyes and settling back to sit comfortably. “I told you, I’ll join a gym again and leave you to be at peace.”
“It’s not that.” Sunghoon waves you off, nodding to the stack of study guides. “You need to pass these classes, right?” 
“That’s why I’m here, genius. Taking up your sweet precious time.”
He doesn’t miss the snarky attitude you add, not sparing him attention as you return to rereading the same question for the fifth time.
“I was my high school’s valedictorian, top of the Dean’s list for the past 2 years, scouted by every Ivy League in the world really.” He shrugs, motioning to the display of plaques and honors hung up on his bedroom wall. “You know that though, you can’t be that stupid. Even extraterrestrials wish I’d visit to share my wealth of knowledge.”
“Good God man, get to the point.” You glower, ready to snap the mechanical pencil in your grip in half.
“This tutoring thing is pointless.” He pauses, deciding to leave out the part about you actually being stupid. “Girls like you have no purpose in excelling academically, especially not now with my father’s last name attached to yours.”
“What the fuck does that even mean? Girls like me?” 
Sunghoon smirks, nodding slowly as his gaze drags from your crossed legs up to your torso and the less than fond grimace you stare him down with.
“Girls like you..” he reaches for your knee, walking his index and middle finger up your thigh. “This little emo baggy clothes aesthetic, you’ll grow out of it someday. It’s what your mom wants, right? Judging by the way she scolds every move you make, fixes your hair, makes you wear those drabe goody church outfits around my father to impress him.”
Sunghoon leans in closer, falling to a whisper as his digits reach the top of your thigh. “Who knew what you were hiding under all this,” he tugs on your t-shirt, biting down on his full pink bottom lip. “There’s a standard to uphold now that our parents have wed.”
He licks his top lip purposely, leaving behind a coat of spit that accentuates how perfectly shaped his pout is without even trying. Distracted by his hand playing with your top, you realize too late how close he’s moved his chair to yours. “Money changes people.”
“What? You think I can be easily swayed by a bunch of stuck-up rich assholes like you who think you’re superior just because daddy keeps your bank account full?” Your hand circles his wrist, not without feeling your heart rate spike upon contact. Sunghoon’s as cold to the touch as he looks, grinning when your grip tightens around him.
“I have sure-fire way to find out.” He splits into a smile, gingerly tugging your fingers off his wrist before twisting and rubbing the skin dramatically with a hiss. “Here’s the thing,” Sunghoon stands up, moving to a cabinet full of paperwork, all ordered and labeled much too neatly. 
“You want to pass these classes, right?” He stops to look over his shoulder at your confused face. “Or what was that again? Mommy’s not going to fund your European summer vacation trip? That one you’ve been dreaming about and making Pinterest boards for since middle school?”
“She told you about that?” You grumble, whispering to yourself. “That bitch..”
“Shh, that’s no way to speak about your mother, she’s a lovely woman.” He winks, snapping his fingers. “Here it is. I took these courses my first year of college. Top grades in my class, of course.” Sunghoon shrugs, pulling out two thick folders. “You see because of tutoring, I’ve saved all my study guides, assignments, tests, quizzes, cheat sheets, well— you get the point. Right here, I have everything to help you pass these courses with minimal effort on your part required.”
“Why didn’t you just say that to begin with?” You say annoyed, standing up to snatch the folders from him.
“Nuh-uh-uh—“ Sunghoon has the nerve to laugh, lifting the files high above him and throwing back his head to cackle when you jump up in an attempt to steal them anyway. “Why would I make it that easy for you?”
“Why not??” You grunt, slapping his arm. “You don’t want to tutor me! I don’t want to be here! Let’s do us both this favor so my mom can get off my ass.”
Sunghoon snorts, flicking your chin condescendingly. “First lesson in Economics, everything has a price.”
“You want money??” You ask completely bewildered. “With all the money your dad gives you, you really need more from me??”
He analyzes the distraught anger building up between your wrinkled eyebrows, nodding and smirking. “I didn’t say anything about money.” Sunghoon waves the folders in your face, smacking them lightly on the top of your head before laughing again when you swing at him again. 
“I said a price.” He thumbs through the stacks of paperwork, biting back a smile. “You have something I want.”
He steps closer to you, reaching for the hem of your shirt again. “Something you’ve done a real good job of hiding.”
“Wha—“
Sunghoon tilts his chin in, eyes half-lidded with his head angled lower, grazing a thumb across the waistband of your shorts. “How much are you willing to do for me to get what you need?”
“You’re not serious.” Your palms itch by your hips, ready to slap the growing smirk off his face.
“Maybe I am..” he trails off, dipping his thumb past the button of your shorts. “Depends..” he tugs, pulling your hips to his. “How serious are you about your dream summer vacation? Because if I was you.. I wouldn’t fuck up this opportunity I’m offering you.”
“You—“ stammering, you pull away until the 
backs of your knees meet the edge of his bed, cursing under your breath. “You want..”
“Wanna fuck you?” Sunghoon says flatly, eyebrows raised to patronize you further. “A lot of air passing through that head of yours?”
“Man, fuck you.”
“I’m giving it my all.” He shrugs, throwing the folders onto his bedside table. “Listen, you’re giving me virgin vibes. Is that what this is about?”
“What?!”
“Ah, I should have known.” Shrugging, he points a finger up and down your figure. “You’re one of those prudish types. That’s why you cover up so much, yeah?”
“I’m not a virgin.”
Sunghoon’s shoulders fall, squinting at you apprehensively. “Then what’s the deal? What, you’re the only girl within a 50 mile radius that hasn’t thought about my dick?”
“You’re actually insufferable.” You say, stunned that you’ve even found yourself having this conversation. “Besides, our parents are married now.”
Sunghoon smiles, not a charming or genuine smile, a vindictive terrifying one at best. “Exactly, little step-sister.”
Who knew that the Park Sunghoon is really nothing but your average typical perverted horny young-adult man. You frown, taking in his clean-cut pristine appearance, that shallow sinking sensation of realization melting between your chest.
All men are the same.
“You’ll really help me pass?”
Sunghoon nods greedily, moving into your personal space to nudge your chin. “Trust me, you couldn’t fail even if you tried with my help.”
“Okay.” You whisper, scanning his room for a fast way to escape.. if you need to. “Why me?”
Sunghoon laughs breathily, reaching for the end of your t-shirt to slowly inch up your torso. “Why not you.” He pokes your navel, index finger dragging upward, tracing the center of your stomach up to where your bra lays.
Whiplash hits hard between the churn in your stomach and a shiver rippling up through your limbs. Given any other scenario, one where you weren’t being threatened so-to-speak to pleasure your step-brother, you can’t deny that you’d give in willingly either way. 
Sunghoon in every sense is fatally attractive. From his deep voice, to the aromatic musky sweet cologne wafting off his clean soft exfoliated skin, to his, well, devastatingly gorgeous unflawed face; you have to tell yourself once again, things could be much worse.
“What do you want me to do?”
He grins, tapping your forehead with his free hand, index finger prodding condescendingly. “Not that dumb after all. Knew you had it in you princess.”
Sunghoon cups your breast, thumb pushing at your nipples through the cup of your bra. “Take it off.”
He takes one step back, motioning with his chin for you to hurry up. The easy part is pulling your shirt off, not as if he hadn’t seen you in a sports bra the other day. Crossing his arms, he nods for you to continue, biceps bulged out from where they clench against his chest.  
Heat of embarrassment traces up your neck, smoothing the straps of your bra off your shoulders as you look away and reach back to unhook the clasp, dropping the garment down to your feet. Sunghoon pouts his lips, quietly whistling and returning to his spot, much too close, close enough to lodge one of his thighs between yours. “That wasn’t so hard now was it.”
Cupping your hips, he peers down, taking in your chest up close with the top row of his teeth searching for his bottom lip to dig into. Unbeknownst to you, it’s been awhile.
Four weeks actually, Sunghoon realizes at the first twitch of his length against his pants, lodging himself closer to your center for you to feel it. 
“Very pretty.”
Fastening your waist, his digits dig into your sides, forcing a gasp to spill from your mouth. “I was right.” He says smugly, tickling up past your chest and now hardened nipples. “Noticed those pretty lips first.”
Sunghoon gets your heart racing easily, splaying a palm over your throat as his other hand cups your chin, dipping his thumb into the fat of your bottom lip. “Bet $1000 they’d look even prettier struggling to take my dick.”
His thumb sneaks in past your lips, pressing against the center of your tongue until you whimper, chest pushed up against yours. “Show me how pretty that mouth can look.”
He keeps whispering about your slutty mouth and breasts, thumb shoved into the hilt allowing for you to mimic a blow-job around him. Lips circled around the digit obscenely as you slurp his thumb and dip your head up and down. “That’s it, suck me real fucking good just like that until I cum all over these pretty tits.”
Sunghoon’s thigh jerks up between yours, digging up higher until his muscle flexes against your warm crotch. “No gag reflex princess?” He grins, neck bending in close to lavv at the mess of spit pouring free from your lips suctioned around his thumb. “Messy messy messy.”
The grip on your neck tightens, forcing a burning itch up your throat, eyes squeezing shut as you cough and unintentionally bite down on his hand. “Fuck!”
Sunghoon hisses, tearing his hand away with a shake to get rid of the sting, glaring at you as he returns to grab your jaw roughly. “What the fuck was that?”
Bleary wet eyes stare back at him, bottom lip drawn out innocently, his tongue clicks, shaking his head annoyed. “Don’t fucking do that again.”
Sunghoon rumbles deep within his chest, pushing down on your shoulders until you drop to your knees in startlement, recuperating quickly to get between his thighs as he sits and manspreads before you. He slaps your hands away faster than you can say ‘ouch’, drawing them to your chest with a dramatic pained hiss.
“Not like that,” he tuts, unbuttoning his pants and nodding to the zipper. “I’m even giving you a head start, say thank you.”
Tight-lipped, you crouch in closer and mutter a ‘Thank You’, burning head to toe from the embarrassment, because whether you want to admit it or not, Sunghoon’s hot. You can always fib the truth, but the damp material between your thighs will give you away each time; having to clench your legs together for a bit of relief.
“Good, now remember what I said, no biting.” Sunghoon warns you again, pinching your chin. “No hands either, get me off with that pretty mouth only.”
Lazily, watching you with hooded eyes, Sunghoon reaches lower to run the pads of his fingers down the zipper of his pants, taunting you further. “I’m waiting.” Continuing down, he traces the prominent shape of his cock, starting from the base and working to the tip as he lines the shape. The chubbed up girth clearly visible this up close, already swelling your throat just from looking at it.
The silver zipper gleams back at you, dangling a bit as if to mock you more. Thickly swallowing, you scoot in on your knees, nose brushing the shape on your way to catch the zipper between your lips and struggle to pull it down, his pants tighter from the stretch of his hardened cock ready to rip through the material.
Sunghoon chuckles when you finally manage to get the zipper down, wishing to further humiliate you, if only his cock agreed. “Little princess doesn’t know how to suck dick, huh?” He coos in a fake sweet tone, shifting up to push down his pants past his knees. “What do you say?”
“Thank you..”
“Fast learner, I like that.” He laughs mirthfully, nodding to his hard-on once again. “Let’s see what you got.”
“You said no teeth.” You say, growing annoyed the more you watch his cock throb, confined by the tight material of his briefs. The wet spot at the tip indicates more than enough that he’s tired of waiting. “Take it out!” Rolling your eyes, you slap his knee, demanding he at least do that.
“No wonder you’re failing so many classes.” Sunghoon mumbles, rolling his eyes back at you and shoving his briefs down past the wet head of his cock, widening your gaze as you take all of him in, all.
“Two classes..” you trail off, suddenly antsy as he circles the base of his length and strokes upward fully displaying the full thick long size of his girth. “You’re huge.”
Sunghoon snorts, squeezing under the head for his foreskin to pull back around the bulbous tip, glistening with precum. “Don’t look so terrified, it’s unbecoming.”
Even his fingers brighten with a shade of pink, the whites disappearing as he strokes and tugs against the tip. “Now.” Biting down on his lip he adjusts for the head of his cock to hover near your parted mouth, dragging the wet head slowly along your upper lip. “Let’s see if that gag-reflex is actually nonexistent.”
Without waiting another second he reaches for the back of your head, tangling his fingers through your hair to push your face toward his lap and glide past your lips. The intrusion throws you off initially, coughing around the fat stretch pulling the corners of your lips apart further. “Fuck, feels real good.”
The heavy weight of his cock rushes spits down your chin as he builds up a pace, balls hitting your chin the more he works you up and down while simultaneously lifting his hips up to hit the back of your throat. Sunghoon groans, teeth clicking together from biting down hard to keep his voice low, thrusting harder and rougher until your throat gives and loosens up around him allowing him into the back of your throat. “Oh fuck!”
Finding the perfect angle to have your mouth constricted around his length, he holds you down; ripping tears from your eyes from the constant burn around your lips, incessantly stimulating the inside of your mouth and suppressing your breathing.
It’s agonizing at first, making Sunghoon’s abdominal muscles lock up and suck in from the lack of sound coming out of you. His eyes roll back, circling into your mouth easily in disbelief. 
“Your throats such a perfect little fuckhole for me, huh?” He babbles, finally pulling out. The release pouring out wads of spit down your chin and neck, wide-eyed as you catch your breath.
“Is that pussy wet?” Sunghoon bends forward, reaching to pinch and tug on your stiff nipples, twisting the buds between his fingers. “Don’t lie to me, I can see it all over your face.”
“Y-yes..” succumbing to the invisible weight against your chest, you nod; head dropping shamefully in a weak attempt to hide what you can only imagine the mess looks like all over your chin; staring down blearily at the river of spit and precum running down your chest, meeting in the middle before splitting off under your chest.
“Does it hurt?” Slapping your breasts, he grips one, digits kneading into the fat and pushing it up higher on your chest; his other hand wrapping around your neck to lift your gaze back to him. “Pussy hurts so bad doesn’t it?”
Gulping beneath his grip, your eyes fall shut with a whimper, tears streaking down the sides of your cheeks. Huffing for a breath under his choke as you crumble and can’t find your voice to say more.
“Come on,” Sunghoon shakes your neck, jostling your head, making your eyes snap open. “Fucking look at me.” He bites, reaching his other hand up to stroke your hair away from your face and examine the wads of tears clumping your eyelashes together. Swollen wrecked lips hung open desperately panting for air, lines of wet and dried tears racing down under your chin. “Tell me exactly what your pussy wants.”
It’s more than degrading, because he knows you don’t want it, not really. Not your mind, your heart, but just like the rest, your cunt will always be your downfall. Greedy for cock like any common whore.
“Y-you,” you cry, fitting your hand around his wrist as a silent plea to loosen his grip on your throat. “Wants you.”
Smirking to one side, his gaze sparks with a different type of vindictiveness, one that lets you know that you won’t be getting none of that. Holding your neck back, he scoots forward until his ass nearly hangs from the bed, gripping around the base of his angry blood-filled cock to slap angrily between your chest. The sudden smack of hot flesh on your wet breasts has you arching up, coughing with another squeeze around your throat. “Think I don’t know that princess? I bet you could cum from this alone. You know how big of a slut you have to be to get off just from sucking cock?” 
Sunghoon drops your neck with a wide pleased smirk, releasing his hold on you to scoop under your breasts, pushing the fat mounds together for his cock to perfectly sandwich between with a guttural groan. “Oh fuck, that’s it.”
He thrusts viscously, pumping between your breasts, eyebrows bunched together releasing short breathy hisses through his pursed lips. “Fuck, look at the way those tits bounce, better than a pussy.” Sunghoon groans, slamming his cock in and out, losing his hold on your breasts the more ferocious his movements become. 
“Hold your tits for me.” Sunghoon growls, snarling when you don’t move fast enough. “Push them together, squeeze around me real tight baby.” Grunting, he wraps around the back of your neck, hips moving on their own to fuck between your jiggling breasts, spit and precum guiding the way for his cock to slip right through, the tip hitting the hollow between your collarbone.
Each thrust has you jerking under his control, his hand gripping your nape rougher for more command over his movements. Ramming his girth in and out, he mutters multiple curses, hips twitching up with one last thrust before reaching up into your hair, gathering enough in his hands to create two pigtails.
“Back in that slutty mouth.” 
Sunghoon’s pull on your hair snaps your neck back, mouth popping open for him to freely shove the entirety of his size back inside. The tip of his cock slides past your tonsils, finally making you gag and lurch around him, coughing out copious amounts of drool around his size as he relentlessly hammers in chasing after release.
 “That’s it, that’s it, that’s it!” He shouts between gritted teeth, hips angled to stretch your mouth wide open. Balls deep with every inch of his cock drenched in a mess of spit, the heat and suction from your lips grows overbearing; burying as deep as he can with your nose struggling to breathe against his neatly trimmed pubic hairs. “Ugh!”
Pulling hard enough on the tufts of hair balled up in his fists, he shouts behind sucked in lips, eyes wrinkled shut to stop himself from screaming out loud. Between panted breath, Sunghoon orders you to swallow, grinding his hips forward leaving you with no choice but to comply. Mouth locked around his cock as long streaks of cum shoot inside the back of your throat, gurgling around his length as he fills you up. Tightening his grip on your hair almost punishingly, he pulls the tufts tightly into his fist; cock buried deep ensuring you take every last drop.
“All of it.” he croaks, tone breaking into a rasp. “Swallow all of it.” With one more deep grunt, he pulls out, the last bit of cum spilling out onto your chin. Wet cock dragging down your cheek with a satisfied cocky smirk on his face. 
“You look way too good with my dick on your cheek, could seriously get hard again just from looking at you.” 
Sunghoon sighs, collapsing back on his bed with a long-winded sigh, head dizzy from the aftermath of his orgasm still passing through his limbs. “Fuck that was too fucking good.” He says more to himself, sounding elated, completely missing the grimace painting your face as you lick between your teeth, nose scrunched up.
“Done?”
Sunghoon’s hand lifts, waving your question off. “Yeah yeah.”
He pushes up to stand just in time to see you use the inside of your shirt to clean off your chin and chest, tongue clicking because he should have made you swallow that too. 
“I’ll let you know when we can have our next session.” Sunghoon winks, standing up to wave the packet of completed aced quizzes and assignments over your head. “If only you took school as serious as you take sucking cock.”
Snatching the packet from him, you leer, ripping open his bedroom door ready to run for the bathroom to douse yourself in shower gel and scrub the fuck out of your skin, halted as you come face to face with the other Park. Thankfully not your step-father.
Heeseung’s eyes go wide as if he’s been caught, eyes shifting back and forth up and down the hallway for a way to sneak off. 
“What are yo—“
“I can explain!” Heeseung whispers urgently, running a hand through his hair anxiously, grateful that you closed the door behind you. “I mean, I didn’t hear anything.”
“What?”
“I mean—“‘he stutters, waving goodbye and shaking his head dismissively before jogging down the hall to his bedroom. 
“Weird.”
A much needed shower keeps your mind occupied from delving too deep into what Heeseung could have been doing out there, passing by more than likely. Maybe. Scrubbing your forearms and stomach down until your skin burns, you hiss, replaying the sounds of Sunghoon’s moans and pleasured breathy whines. What the hell did he mean by ‘next session’, did he really plan to make this a recurring activity? 
Why would he want to start up some type of fuck-buddy situationship with you either way? As the bathroom mirror clears up of fog, you brush at the backs of your teeth roughly, swearing that you can still taste particles of his tangy cum. Leave it to some dickhead to be the first to spill his load inside of your mouth, he’s lucky you didn’t regurgitate it and spit it all back in his face.
It’s no worse than the random hot frat guy you’ve hooked up with at a party, or bartenders that slipped you their number at a club to meet up at the end of their shift; other than you know, the whole parents married to each other: siblings through matrimony aspect.
That’s one way to make yourself feel better about what just happened, shrugging it off as you exit the bathroom and make way to your bedroom, paused on the way down the hall to glimpse in the direction of Heeseung’s room. A low murmur of music drifts from his cracked open door, focusing on your hearing at the familiarity. “Is that?”
Too nosey for your own good, you creep toward his bedroom, lighting up at your correct recognition. “You like Deftones?”
Heeseung jolts up in his computer chair, dropping the vinyl record in his hands at your surprise entrance. “Shit.”
“Oh, sorry.” You flinch, hoping your presence didn’t crack the record as it hits his bedroom floor. “Should have knocked..”
“My fault my fault,” he waves calmly, internally screaming with quick a fast analysis of the record and vinyl for any damage. “All good.” He breathes, finally getting a look at you only to choke on his spit at the towel wrapped around your chest. “Oh uh..”
“I love this song.” You nod, moving further into his room to read over the various posters hung up from wall to wall. “Wow, you have good taste.”
“Wait,” he sits up, ignoring the lack of clothing beneath that towel. And the sweet scent of vanilla and peach now filling his room, the driblets of water still clinging to your skin; glowing in a ridiculously unrealistic manner where you stand.. 
“Did you say you like Deftones?”
“Love them.” You correct, moving inside to sit on the end of his bed, thighs pressed together tight. “My favorite band actually.”
“No way.” Heeseung looks down to avoid making it glaringly obvious how hard he’s fighting to not stare at every inch of your exposed skin. “That’s crazy.”
“Why? Because I’m a girl?” You scoff, making your step-brother shake his head. 
“One of my favorite bands too, maybe my all time favorite.” He informs, coughing to clear his throat and stand, moving to a crate full of records. “What’s your favorite release?”
“Probably Diamond Eyes, I won’t lie. This Place Is Death is like the best song ever.” 
Heeseung can feel his ears burn, swallowing as he turns to show you an original copy of the first release of said album. “You have good taste too, I really like Beauty School.” 
“Great choice.”
Heeseung nods timidly, moving to the record player to play your favorite track. “There’s something really out-of-body about this song.”
“Right? It’s like floating, weightless. The vocals and music harmonize together so good, it's like I’m in a dream.”
Heeseung does his best to ignore the suggestive lyrics for now, returning to his seat. “Have you seen them live? I went to their last tour, great setlist.”
Pouting, you shake your head ‘no’, gripping the connected top of your towel to adjust the tightness over your chest. “I wish, my moms kind of.. strict, I guess. I’ve stopped asking her about concerts after hearing no a handful of times. Don’t need another lecture about how this type of music is for the low lives of society, bottom feeders, boot lic—“
“Oh woah woah.” Heeseung interrupts with an uncomfortable chuckle, trying not to take any of it personally. Your mom does seem like a hard ass.. 
“Sorry.”
“No no, I’m sorry, that suck’s seriously.”
Shrugging, you give him a playful frown. “Nothing you could do about it. All she cares about is my looks and grades, and my role in society.” Even if it’s just to end up becoming some wealthy man's stay-at-home housewife to be cheated on someday. Not that you need to bring up that part.
Heeseung pinches his bottom lip in thought, nodding along to what you’re saying, choosing to shove aside the sound of his brother's grunts and heavy panting at the mention of your grades. “They’re playing next week actually, maybe…”
“Oh really? Are you going?” 
He hums, going on about how many concerts he’s been to this year alone. “If there’s a tour in town, I’ll be there.”
“Ah, I’m jealous.” Digging your toes to the floor, you sit up straight and clutch your towel with a mortified expression. “Oh my God, I’ve been sitting here this whole time like this?!?” Rushing to stand, you skitter quickly for the door, turning to bow apologetically. “My heads all foggy, I wasn’t even thinking.”
Heeseung laughs softly, muttering off a ‘no no no it's all good’. 
“My doors usually open,” he shrugs, jokingly mentioning to knock at least so he doesn’t end up wailing out a loud high-pitched scream that he’ll never be able to live down. “Whenever you wanna hang out and listen to music or whatever.”
“I’ll make you regret that.” You grin, waving before making your way out.
Heeseung lets out a long sigh, mostly from releasing the tension in his back after trying(and failing) to fight off his perverse thoughts.
She’s fucking Sunghoon anyway, he reminds himself. Of course she is. Everyone’s favorite Park brother, even their parents.
Heeseung shoves that aside in the meantime, laying back on his bed to enjoy the faint traces of your body wash left behind.
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Heeseung’s been on edge ever since overhearing his brother on the phone, almost forgetting himself of the younger’s relationship. He sits stiffly against his headboard, gnawing at his lip to quell away his nerves. They’d be back soon from picking her up, and luckily luring you to his bedroom had become easier the more you realized how many bands you both listen to.
“So, what are you doing later?”
Even from the side of your face he can tell your eyebrows furrow, confused that he’d even ask. “Mom didn’t tell you about the dinner?”
Bile rises in his throat at the casual way you say mom, swallowing down the need to correct you. Shaking it off, he repeats to himself to focus before time runs out.
“I had plans to meet up with a few friends tonight, we scored some last minute tickets to the Deftones concert a few towns over. Might go explore this new record store beforehand, you’re welcome to come.” Heeseung scratches his nape apprehensively, focused on you thumbing through the crates of vinyls lined up along his bedroom wall. “My friend Jake, he uh.. he can’t make it tonight, change of plans. I offered to buy his ticket off of him if you wanna…”
“A concert tonight?” You frown, ending your search when one of the album covers catches your eye, gently drawing it out and delicately freeing the record. “This is one of my favorites by them, you have good taste”
Heeseung silently agrees, lifting the record player's needle for you to set it in place. “Yeah, we can go out to Rick’s Rockin’ Records too, I haven’t been since they moved to a new location out there. Maybe grab something to eat, or.. whatever you want to do. I already asked dad if I can borrow the car tonight.”
“Hmm,” music thrums from his speaker set-up, the volume low blending in well with the darker atmosphere he’s built in his bedroom. “Can’t do that today, mom said tonight’s really important. Something about meeting Sunghoon’s friend, I don’t know she wasn’t super specific.”
Heeseung sighs, chewing on his nail as he sits down on his bed and watches your hips sway slowly to the beat of the music. “About that—“
“I should probably get ready actually,” you groan, turning to look at him with an annoyed sneer. “If not I’ll never hear the end of it over dinner. Surprised your dad’s letting you go out?”
“Well..” Heeseung stands in an attempt to distract you and try to keep you in his room longer if possible. Not that it would help to keep you away from heading downstairs at some point.. 
“What if I talk to your mom? You said you never get to see them when they tour.” Heeseung says in a rushed panicked tone. “I don’t want this free ticket to go to waste.”
“You would do that for me?” You squint back at him confused, from barely having more than a few run-ins and conversations over music in the last few weeks; his eagerness seems misplaced, unusual even.
“I mean,” Heeseung can feel his mouth drying up, patting his palms down his sides to calm his nerves. “It’s not a big deal.”
The telltale sound of a car engine shutting off outside of his window steals both of your attention, cursing under your breath as you peer through his blinds. “I have to get ready.”
“Wait wait!” Heeseung blocks the door before you can manage to leave, awkwardly stretching his arms out. “The other day, with my brother..”
“Oh.” 
“It’s not like that.” His hand waves, reaching to massage his temples. “There’s something about him that I think you should know.”
“No no, it’s okay. I’m not into him like that.” You lie, avoiding his gaze. “My mom’s making him tutor me, that’s why I was in his room. I mean like, when you saw me.”
Heeseung nods, mouth opening and shutting repeatedly. “Do you like him?”
“What? No.” You answer too fast, huffing out a laugh while peering around him for an escape. “Why would I like him? He’s..”
“Everyone likes Sunghoon.” He says factually, expression drooping as he nods and steps aside. 
Yeah. Everyone. Including you.
The shout of your name breaks your thoughts, saved by the bell as your mothers tone rings out akin to an alarm. Lifting up onto the balls of your feet you apologize and scamper away to rush out of Heeseung’s bedroom. 
“You better be ready!” She follows, making you work urgently to race through your closet for an outfit she would choose for you. Something to make you seemingly presentable enough in the presence of whomever your mother considers ‘important’.
What if it’s one of Sunghoon’s attractive friends? He’s good looking, good looking people tend to know each other, right? He seems to prefer when you show more skin.. but a deadly glare from your mom may not be worth it only for a few fleeting glances of interest.
A knee length high-neck dress can’t make her mad, you’re positive she purchased this for you at some point anyway.
Another shout of your name has you jogging toward the stairs while hopping into a pair of flats and attempting to zip up the back of your dress all at once, the extra hobble down the last few steps drawing a round of attention your way right as you land with a deep breath and smooth out the wrinkles down your front.
“There you are.” Your mother glowers, eyeing you disapprovingly and reaching to tug on one of your earlobes. “Not even a pair of earrings? Could you be more of a slob, darling?” She whispers, wrapping an arm around your back and leading you into the living room. 
Sunghoon stands near his father, back facing the both of you as he nods and laughs at something obscured by their combined size. 
“Our guest just landed an hour ago and still had the decency to at least wear a pair of high heels. What’s your excuse?”
High heels?
“Ah, there you are.” Your step-dad turns, unveiling a petite blonde, still small in stature despite the 5 inch pair of stiletto Chanel pumps pinching her toes. Perfectly feminine and radiant where she stands close to Sunghoon’s side. “This is Miyeon, Sunghoon’s girlfriend.”
Heeseung leans near one of the entrances, gaze bouncing back and forth from his brother, to you, to Miyeon. The air is heavy enough to shatter through glass, freezing you in place with wide eyes. “Girlfriend?”
Sunghoon clears his throat, avoiding your questioning glare as he reaches to pull Miyeon in and places a kiss on top of her head. 
“Yes, they’ve been together since middle school, can you believe that?” 
“No. I can’t.” You say stoically, going fully ignored by your step-brother. 
“Miyeon attends school in New York, but she’s back home for the week.” Your step-father informs, smiling lovingly at his son and his presumed future daughter-in-law. 
“Middle school.” You repeat under your breath, eyes darting around for something to distract you. Heeseung comes near, not missing your surprise. 
“Hey, I’m heading out soon if you—“
“Yes!” You pipe up abruptly, reaching for his arm, aggressively nodding. “Right, the concert!”
“What concert?” Your mother asks, tongue clicking annoyed. “What have I told you about concerts”
“I invited her.” Heeseung states confidently, excusing himself to stand in front of you. “If that’s okay with you, dad? They’re her favorite band and she never gets to see them. I had an extra ticket so I offered..”
“That’s awfully nice of you Hee.” Sunghoon says with a sleek gaze, hugging Miyeon tighter into his side. “What about Jake?”
“He’s feeling sick.” Heeseung snaps back at his younger brother, returning to his father who looks contemplative. 
“That is nice of you.” He reiterates, humming and reaching for his wallet. “Get something to eat too, since you’re not staying for dinner.”
Your mother’s eyes widen at that, biting down hard on her teeth to force a smile. “Ah, I cooked enough for all of us.”
“It will be good for the kids to spend time together.” He shrugs. “Leftovers never hurt anyone darling. Here Hee, don’t stay out too late or your mom won’t be able to sleep.”
He hands over a rolled up wad of cash, reaching for the keys in his pocket. “Take my car, Hoon’s going to need his to drive Miyeon home later.”
“I thought I was staying over?” You hear her whisper to your step-brother, the scowl between his eyebrows unwavering as he glares back and forth from his brother to you.
“Since when have the two of you been close?” He asks, ignoring Miyeon’s question.
Heeseung shrugs, wringing the keys around his fingers. “Learn something new everyday, don’t we?” He subtly peers from his brother to the girl by his side, fast enough to go unnoticed to anyone other than Sunghoon.
“I think it’s nice.” Your step-father speaks up. “I’m happy to see you kids getting along like real siblings.”
Heeseung forces a smile, unable to explain to himself why that comment even bothers him. “We’ll be safe.” He says to your mother, nodding for you to follow him.
“Uhm,” matching his pace you smooth down the dress you wore specifically with your mother’s judgemental glare in mind, not bothering to even say goodbye to Sunghoon nor his girlfriend. “Should I change?” 
Heeseung shrugs, scanning your figure swiftly and scratching the side of his neck. “If you want to feel more comfortable? It’s a general admission show so..”
“Give me a minute, yeah?” He nods, adding that he’ll get the car started as you jog up the stairs and burst through your closet, ripping off the stuffy drab outfit from your skin. ‘What should I even wear to a concert?’
“What the fuck is this about?” Sunghoon surprises you, jumping up with a gasp and tugging a sweater in front of your chest. “Why is Heeseung taking you out?”
“Why didn’t you tell me you have a girlfriend?” You snap back, hissing under your breath after hearing the faint sound of conversation bustling downstairs, Miyeon’s charming laughter sprinkled between. “I wouldn’t have..”
“Wouldn’t have what?” He steps forward, crowding into your space inside of your closet. “Suck my dick the way she never would?”
He smirks, wrapping a hand around the back of your neck and lifting his other to show off a silver band snuggly fitted on his ring finger. “We’re promised to each other.”
Sunghoon whispers, grazing your upper lip. “That means waiting until marriage.”
“You cheated!” You hiss, shoving his stomach. “You made me cheat with you!”
“I didn’t make you do anything you didn’t want to do.” He says in a mean-spirited tone, flicking your chin. “Besides, you think I’d ever treat my future wife like some slut?”
“Fuck you.”
“Soon.” He nods, inching in to lay a soft kiss on your Cupid’s bow. “Anyway, that’s not why I’m here. Whatever this thing is you have going on with my brother, cut it out.”
“There’s nothing going on between us.” You shove, digging your palms against his stomach. “He’s nice, unlike you.”
“Yeah. He’s a real good liar.” Sunghoon grits, easing off you. “I have to get back to dinner, disappointed you won’t be joining us.” 
“Sure you are.” He reaches for your neck again, large palm engulfing most of it. 
“Really wanted to see you try to cover up your guilt.” His tongue clicks, tilting his head to the side to smile. “The look on your face when my dad introduced you,” he sucks in a breath between his teeth, dimpled cheeks sinking in. “It was priceless.”
“Get away from me.” You try to push again, digging your nails into his waist. 
“You thought..” he strokes down your cheek, forehead resting against yours. “That I like you, right? Already dreaming of your step-brother turning into your boyfriend?” He hums, pinching your cheek. “Cute.”
“Sunghoon! What’s taking so long!” Your mother calls from downstairs, halting your next snide remark. 
“One second!” Rolling his eyes, he turns back to you, thumb smoothing under your eye. “Take what I say seriously.” He sighs, pecking your chin and bottom lip. “Don’t piss me off.” With a fake smile and lit up eyes he lays one more kiss atop your mouth, pulling away enough for his words to trace across your lips. “Because I’ll find out, and whatever you think you’ll get away with here— you won’t.” 
Straightening out, he winks, patting your cheek and laughing when you look away with a clenched jaw. “Asshole.” You mutter, quickly pulling out an oversized old t-shirt and shorts to throw on. Having made Heeseung wait long enough, and now even more annoyed than before you forgo the idea of picking out something cute.
It’s just your step-brother anyway, he’s seen you look worse.
Running out of the house before your parents can try bother you with a lecture do’s and don'ts you apologize, hopping into the passenger seat short of breath.
“Sorry sorry, my mom,” you wave, giving your mind a second to conjure up a lie. “You know, doing her mom thing.”
Heeseung smiles, nodding to your seatbelt and backing out of the driveway. “Don’t think we’ll have time to grab a bite before the opener, if that’s okay with you?”
Ignoring the rumble in your stomach, you nod and shoot him a thumbs up. “It’s fine, seriously thank you for getting me out of there.”
Taking in a deep breath you start to settle, watching the road and listening to the soft tune of what you recognize as Deftones latest release, stealing a glance at Heeseung’s phone to confirm. “Can I ask you something?”
“What’s up?” His lips pout, drumming along to the beat as you enter a freeway.
“When you invited me to come with you tonight..” Heeseung clears his throat, shifting in his seat uncomfortably.
“Did you know?” Chewing your lip nervously, you sit up straight to watch his side and the blush rise from his neck to the middle of his face. “About.. her?”
“I’ve known about Miyeon for years.” He says, focused on the road. “I knew she was in town too.”
“Did Sunghoon ask you to keep me distracted?”
He blinks surprised, eyes going wide. “Sunghoon doesn’t speak to me unless he has no other choice.” He says flatly, gripping at the steering wheel tightly, losing interest in the change of song. “I invited you because..”
“You saw what happened the other day?” You ask, turning away remembering the awkward silence you shared with your step-brother after your tutoring session.
“Well no.” He trails off for a moment, letting out a long winded sigh. “I know how my brother is. Wasn��t hard to put two and two together..”
“Are you going to tell our parents?”
Heeseung shakes his head out of the corner of your eye, seemingly flabbergasted you’d even ask that. “I’d never do that. I really mostly invited you hoping to.. yeah, completely avoid this from happening.” He laughs nervously. “I’m not too good at this, whatever this is.”
“No no it’s okay.” You try to emphasize it’s not a big deal, even if the invisible weight crushing your chest says otherwise. “I really appreciate that you thought of doing this for me. I’m excited! This is way better than sitting around eating my mom’s terrible cooking and listening to your dad rant about how amazing Sunghoon is for the hundredth time.”
Heeseung grins, loosening back up, fingers returning to tap along with the music. “He does tend to do that.”
As much as you can’t fight off your thoughts from racing back to Sunghoon, you keep up conversation with your step-brother, both doing your best to avoid bringing him up again. Heeseung made the effort to get you away from a possibly ugly situation, the least you can do is at least try to have fun. Sunghoon will have to be dealt with later.
“Lines not too bad.” Heeseung parks, directing his chin to the front of the venue. “We can probably get barricade.”
“Cool.” You shrug, not wanting to give off how clueless you are about concert culture as you make your way to the line of fans noticing many seem paired off, couples mostly.
Standing by your step-brother lamely attempting to come up with a topic to talk about, you bump into his side to relieve some tension. “I’m seriously so excited.”
Heeseung’s eyes meet yours, soft and large as he takes in your face up close and nods. He contemplates a reply, sorting from ‘I’m happy to hear that.’ and ‘that’s good, I’m glad.’ Before looking away and muttering.
“Should be a lot of fun.”
When Heeseung had mentioned getting a spot on the barricade you hadn’t realized he meant being front row, as you passed the ticket check and made your way inside he pointed out an empty spot the two of you could squeeze into, albeit a bit tight you managed to get in together and celebrate. “I can’t believe we’re in front!” You squeal, hopping up and down slightly.
“We really lucked out.” He glances around, wishing he’d at least had enough time to hit up the bar for drinks before the opener. Usually Jake could handle holding down a spot for them but given your naivety he opts to stay by your side. “I know you haven’t been to any concerts before but just a heads up, the crowd can get a little rough.”
“Oh, a lot of pushing?”
“Yeah.” Heeseung notices you’re surrounded by mostly larger men, a few girls sprinkled around here and there. At least the audience had a good mixture of both in comparison to the usual show. “If you’re uncomfortable at any point, let me know okay?”
“Ah, I don’t want you to worry about me.” You say, anxiously fixing your hair, only now realizing just how crammed in and close you are to everyone. The warmth building against your back grows suffocating as minutes go by. “I’ll be fine Hee.” 
Heeseung’s cheeks warm up, blaming it on the crowd filling out and getting heavier around him; not the shortened nickname that you’ve never used with him before. The opener finishes setting up, riling everyone up with their introduction and fast paced music. True to your step-brother’s warning, the pushing shocks you initially, throttled forward to be stuck against the top of the barricade railing. You smile through the sting of pain hitting the top of your ribcage, mentally noting to check for bruises later.
“Definitely need to check them out after that.” Heeseung swipes his phone open, tapping to follow the band. Showing no signs of discomfort he turns to you, smile falling. “You good?”
“Yeah yeah, uhm Deftones go on next?”
He shakes his head, full on frowning and snaking his arm around your shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay if you don’t feel good up here, we can move to the back.”
“No!” Draping your hands flat on the barrier, you push up to straighten your spine, cringing at how it aches already. “I want to watch from up here.”
Heeseung’s mouth shifts to one side in thought, eyeing the area around you before bracketing his arms on the barrier. “Get in front of me.”
“What? Why?”
“I’ll stop the shoving.”
“But you’ll get pushed..” you hesitate, hearing snickers from a group of guys behind you.
“I’ll be fine,” Heeseung motions, encouraging you to move in front of him. Easing into the space he created for you, a sense of relief washes over you, taking in short breaths of air without 3 bodies crushed against you. 
He taps the top of your head with his chin, leaning to the side of your face with a smile. “Better?”
“Yeah, thanks Hee..” you offer an embarrassed smile, already feeling ashamed that your step-brother did all this to end your humiliation in the first place.
Heeseung does his best to ignore the bickering and scoffs around him, especially the group behind whispering about how the two of you should move to the back. ‘It’s not our problem that your girlfriend can’t hang.’
His neck prickles with sweat, ears perked up listening to the rest of their conversation. ‘Pretty prissy girls like that have no business up front anyway. Dude needs to leave his little girlfriend at home next time.’
Biting down on the backs of his teeth he has to stop himself from twisting around to yell that you’re not his girlfriend, saved by the next band that starts up; he relaxes and keeps the crowd away from you; accepting the brunt of the pain himself.
This is something a guy would do for his step-sister too, right? Why assume you’re his girlfriend, you could easily just be a friend..
Everything’s mostly smooth from there until Deftones attack the stage and guitar riffs blast through the speakers, swaying the crowd unanimously to follow along with the beat. He curses, clenching his fist on the barrier to keep you from following the force of eager bodies.
“Hee, are you okay?!” You ask in a panic, placing your hands over his fist. He nods fast, biting on his tongue as your fingers loop between his to hold him closer to you. His slow reaction allows enough space for another body to squeeze its way through the front, plastering his chest to your back with a gasp from the extra lack of space.
“I’m good! I’m good!” He says, trying to keep his cool with a smile and focus on the show that you’ve been waiting for. “It’s your favorite song!”
Heeseung nods ahead, too worried about keeping you safe to even take in that you’re fully crushed under him, the barrier digging into your chest. Trying his best to enjoy the show he shakes his head and sings along with the words he can remember, breath caught when your head lays back on his chest and you smile up at him.
“I love this song!” 
This isn’t Heeseung’s favorite song, but he remembered that it’s yours, and right as you pull your conjoined hands to lay against your stomach; this song sounds better than ever. 
“I love it too.”
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“That was soooo much fun!” 
The two of you managed to squeeze through the crowd fast, your step-brother mentioning wanting to check out the merch before you head out. “I’m sooo sweaty.” you say, shaking off your shirt.
Heeseung looks over the tour shirts hung up, digging out the money his dad gave him. “Want one? We have enough.”
“Oh yeah, that one's really cute!”
“We’ll take two of those.” Heeseung points at the t-shirt, counting enough cash out for both.
“Matching couple tour shirts.” The merch guy says with a laugh. “So cute how many of you think of concerts as date nights.”
“What?” He says with a gulp, peeking from the corner of his eye at your surprised reaction. “We’re no—“
“That’ll be $50, knocked off $10 for the good looking pair.” He winks, passing you the shirts. “Now make this guy go buy you something to eat honey, and whatever you do after, it’s none of my business.”
“Uhh..”
“T-Thanks.” Heeseung stammers, hooking your elbow to drag you out of the crowd toward the exit. The air suddenly a lot tighter and harder to breathe in.
“That was weird, right?” You ask, following him to the car. “Well,” you pause, eyeing him over. “I guess we don’t look alike at all.” 
“People don’t assume the opposite sex can be just friends anymore I guess.” He scoffs, opening the passenger door for you. “He was right about one thing though, you hungry?”
“Starving.” You reply, tossing your bag onto the seat. “But first.”
Heeseung’s eyebrows lift, taking a step back as you begin to remove your shirt, mouth hung open confused. “What are you doing??”
“Told you, I’m drenched.” You say, fanning your chest. “I’d take off my bra too..” you shyly smile, shaking open the new shirt your step-brother just paid for. “Pretend I didn’t say that.”
Tugging on the shirt, you reach around beneath to pull off your bra straps, struggling to unclasp the back. “Sorry Hee, can you help?” 
He swallows, eyes gone wide and nodding. “Uh, yeah sure..”
Heeseung moves behind you, pushing the shirt up to your shoulder blades and biting down on his tongue to not comment on how soft your skin feels. No. That’d be weird, right?
“I think the clasp is stuck..” he mumbles, nervously toying with one of the bra clasps that won’t unlatch.
“Ugh, fuck.” You sigh, swatting the air behind you. “Just rip it off.”
Heeseung tightens his lip, air pushing out of his nose to not groan. “Okay.”
He pulls the connected material apart, the sound of seams snapping and popping open under his strength following.
“Jesus, get a room man.” A drunk concert goer slurs out as he passes by, your bra coming undone finally right as your step-brother curses and presses in close to hide your exposed lower back. 
“Fuck off.”
“You know what? He has a point.” You laugh, shaking the t-shirt down your torso. “My step-brother removing my bra for me should probably be done behind closed doors..”
Heeseung can feel his chest rumble from your laughter, shoulders and upper back shaking against him. Instinctively taking a step back before vibration can travel lower as he imagines exactly that.
“Pizza sounds good.” He changes the subject fast, moving to get inside and get the engine warmed up. “You down?”
“Pizza sounds great.”
The two of you fall into easy conversation, excitedly discussing your favorite songs and parts of the concert. Easily finding a place open for 24 hours on the way home, albeit the slices of pizza more stiff and cardboard-like at this late hour with only one employee working the night shift.
“I hope it wasn’t too hard on you, having to watch out for me.” You say apologetically. 
“Wasn’t a big deal, seriously, don’t mention it.”
“I felt really bad though.” You lament, helping him by carrying the box of pizza. “You still got to enjoy the show, right?”
“Are you serious?” Heeseung waves you off, reaching for the passenger door again before you can open it yourself. “Best concert I’ve ever been to.”
“Right?!?” You joke, settling back into your seat with a laugh. “I say as if I’ve ever been to any others, but I have a feeling this will be one of my favorites.”
“I’ll take you to more concerts.” Heeseung hums, tapping the steering wheel before taking off. “Do you wanna go home right now? Or like..”
“Nah, mom will kill my dopamine high if I have to talk to her right now.”
“You’re right.” Snapping his fingers, he mentions the time. “There’s a park not too far from home, it’s empty by now. We can go there to eat and rush home fast if our parents get mad about the hour.”
“Sounds good.”
The parks nice and quiet, a few street lamps barely lighting up the small area where you settle at the top of the jungle gym and sit facing the street with your legs dangling from the top level of the structure.
“Pizzas not that great.” Heeseung laughs, shrugging, stuffing his mouth regardless.
“It’s perfect for a midnight snack.”
Agreeing, you fall into a comfortable silence, attempting to hide your shiver as a chilly breeze passes through. It’s too nice to head home now, unwilling to unless your phone starts to buzz with your mother shouting on the other end.
“Cold?” Heeseung removes his hoodie before you answer, leaning over to lay it down on your shoulders.
“Now you’ll be cold.”
“Don’t worry about me.”
He nods, looking away to admire the speckles of stars scattered between smog and clouds. Heeseung’s really nothing like his brother. No, because Sunghoon wouldn’t wish to spend time with you in this way, unless it involved his dick in your mouth or wherever..
“Hee, can I ask you something?”
Turning to face you, his lips tremble a bit from the rising crisp night air, raising goosebumps along his arms. “What’s up?”
“This is probably..” you hesitate, pulling his hoodie in tighter to your chest. “I mean, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to..” The skin between his eyebrows folds together, head bobbing up and down for you to continue.
“It’s just, Sunghoon..”
Heeseung sighs, leaning back on his palms and dropping his head back. “I don’t know what he thinks about you, he doesn’t talk to me.” He says calmly before you can finish, laying back down flat with his eyes shut. “Sorry, can’t help.”
“It’s not that—well I mean..” you lower, laying on your side to watch his eyelashes twitch against the tops of his cheeks. “You guys really don’t talk and I guess I’m nosey..”
“Oh.” Heeseung blinks, eyes going wide at the realization of how close you are. “You mean like why we don’t talk?”
“Yeah.”
He shrugs, nibbling his bottom lip from side to side nervously. “We used to be really close, inseparable until our parents got divorced.” His eyebrows furrow, smoothing his palms together onto his stomach. “Hoon lived with our mom for a few years, he was always her favorite.”
Regret begins to seep through your chest, feeling like an asshole for even asking now. Of course their rift had to be more personal than some petty feud between brothers..
“We were still somewhat close during that time, but much like now, dad favored Hoonie too. He’s the baby, you know how it is. He needed more attention and coddling I guess.” Heeseung shrugs again, mostly to keep the topic light. “When we were kids he really looked up to me.. at least I always thought so.”
His breath deepens, releasing longer exhales and shutting his eyes again. “Mom got sick, really sick..”
“I’m sorry Heeseung, you don’t have to tell me..” 
“It’s okay.” Tucking in his upper lip, his eyes squeeze tightly, taking deep breaths before continuing. “I kind of dealt with her illness.. maybe improperly? I don’t know, I was a kid..”
“I’m sorry..”
“Hoonie..” his eyes stay shut, squeezing together at the mention of his brother. “When she passed away, I think he really needed me. I couldn’t be there for him.”
Silence thickens between the two of you, laying back down fully by his side in hopes of offering some type of comfort, a silent one of upper arms flushed together.
“I sort of lashed out..” Heeseung goes on, voice more strangled. “I blocked him out when he needed me the most and when the time came that I needed him,” he shrugs softly, huffing. “He wasn’t there for me anymore. I can’t blame him.”
Anything you can think of to say evades your mind, coming up blank with words that would be enough to show your sympathy. Without much thought other than how nice your step-brothers been, you reach for his hand and loop your fingers between his; bringing them down between your sides with a squeeze.
“He looked up to me when we were younger.” Heeseung at least sounds less tense, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes relaxing. “It didn’t really help that he was getting bullied at school too back then. He was a runt, small thing.” There’s an evident smile in his tone now, small enough to barely lift the corner of his mouth.
“I should have stepped in and defended him but..” he grips your hand tightly, thumb brushing back and forth. “Don’t think I regret anything more than those years.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“In some ways.” Heeseung clears his throat, lips pouting. “The least I could have done was take care of him, he’s my baby brother after all..”
“Nothing could have prepared any of you for what happened. Someday he’ll understand that..”
Heeseung wishes he could agree, but while his mourning period led to sadness and a crushed sense of hope, his brothers landed him in darkness. A cold bitter darkness, gradually day by day stripping away the last specks of light that once made up all of Sunghoon. 
“Yeah.” He lets out a tired sigh, head shaking and forcing a smile. “I’m sure someday we’ll live our own lives and he’ll see me as his trustworthy older brother again.”
“Thank you for sharing that with me.” 
“Haven’t talked about this in such a long time honestly.” He smiles, lifting your hands to rest on his stomach again. “Dad would be shocked by how much we’re getting along right now.”
“It’s weird, right?” You laugh meekly, eyes drifting to your conjoined hands. “That you’re like…” drifting off, your nose crinkles; recalling your friends joking about which of your step-brothers you’d be hooking up with first. “My brother.”
Heeseung’s eyes open up, stomach folding in from shooting up, letting out a hollered laugh. “Oh that was really weird, especially after having to hear that you’re my girlfriend from random strangers for the past 3 hours.”
He sits back up, easing his hold out of yours to smooth a palm down his nape out of nervous habit. 
“I can understand them.” You sit up with him, grabbing onto one of the steel bars to lean in closer to him. “We don’t make a bad looking couple.”
Heeseung’s thankful for the lack of lighting as heat rushes up his neck and burns its way under his eyes, cheeks more than likely bright pink full of blood. “Ah—well, good thing I’m not your type.”
“What?”
“You like Sunghoon.” He says nonchalantly. “Everyone likes him, he’s my brother so like—no I don’t get it.” He chuckles awkwardly. “I see the way everyone fawns over him though, pretty used to it by now.”
“I don’t like Sunghoon.” You grumble. That’s a lie, possibly, or maybe a conversation you’re not ready to have with yourself, let alone your step-brother. “And honestly, you’re way more my type than him.”
“Right.”
“I’m serious!” You shriek, reaching for his bicep. “Oh my god, you’re freezing!”
“It’s not that bad, feels good after being stuck together in that pit.”
“Come here,” scooting closer to him, you pull him into your chest, arm wrapping around his back to draw him into your warmth. “Can’t have you getting sick on me, we have concerts to go to now.”
Heeseung blinks furiously, tucking his chin in to ignore the rapid pace his heart gains, beating against his chest fiercely enough to fear that even you can feel it. “You’re right.” He keeps it short, lips trembling more due to his nerves than the temperature.
“This feels nice.” 
He nods, shifting slightly to rest his arm around your lower back and make the position you’ve ended up in more comfortable. “We should probably head home though, before your mom realizes you’re not safely tucked in bed.”
“I don’t know Hee.” You murmur, digging your nose into his now dried head of hair, a tangy scent of sweat and shampoo left behind. “I don’t want this night to end.” Or to have to see your brother again, let alone deal with whatever that was all about earlier..
Heeseung shivers against your chest, more from his excitement, but accepts the coo you let out and soothing rub down his spine. “Okay okay, don’t want you to catch hypothermia. You’re right, it’s getting late.”
“Sorry,” maintaining eye contact with his lap, he removes himself from your hold, taking deep breaths to ward off his thoughts. 
She’s your sister. She’s your sister. She’s your sister.
Step-sister.
“Before we go, I really do want to say thanks for everything.” You say, completely unaware of the mental war your step-brothers battling with. “From getting me out of the house, the concert, this cute shirt.” You lean back, pulling at the hem, only pronouncing your breast more through the material; not allowing him much of a choice but to look and notice how hard and obviously perked your nipples poke through. Right.. your bras currently residing in the backseat of the car..
“The pizza, bringing me here.” You list out everything, sporting a giant smile. “I seriously haven’t felt this happy in awhile. I kind of.. really needed this before losing my mind.”
Heeseung returns the smile, sharing your sentiment silently. “I’ll do my best from now on to make this a part of our routine.”
“It’s really a shame.”
“Hmm? What is?”
“That our parents ended up together.” You mumble, scanning his face anxiously. “You’re better than—I don’t know.. kind of lame to admit but I tried to picture different scenarios in which we’d somehow get to know each other.” You struggle to say, sucking air between your teeth. “Ah, I guess I kind of had a crush on you? Not really? But kind—“
Heeseung’s thighs bounce against the jungle gym, resisting the urge to lunge at you and smother you in kisses. The need grows harder and harder the more you go on and demurely shift around to avoid his gaze. It’s the whiny pout you fall into while saying you may or may not have had a crush on your step-brother that sets him off; pushing his upper half toward you and dropping the weight of his mouth upon yours with heated urgency.
It’s harder and sloppier than he intends for, swatting away every thought and emotion that could fully develop since the day you stepped inside of his bedroom with a curious glint in your eye. Beyond physical attraction, Heeseung can’t stop the annoying itch in his chest, the one warming him up from inside out everytime you’ve looked at him tonight. His nose crushes into the side of yours, the seam of his lips engulfing more of your top lip than managing to act out an actual kiss.
Drawing away with flushed cheeks, he licks his lips and begins spewing out an apology, shaking his head embarrassed. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry, I’m—“
The back of his head bounces against the metal walls behind him, hissing against your lips shoving into his. Mouth more commanding than his as you scramble to invade his space and drop your bottom onto his lap. 
“Sorr—“
“Shh, kiss me back, kiss me.” Between rushed bated breath and a messy lock of lips, you rock further into him, reaching for the holes scattered around the jungle gym walls to bury your fingers in and cage his head between your arms.
Heeseung’s hands flail for a minute, slapping down on your hips to grab onto something with a groan as your tongue probes between the line of his lips for access. The wet slip of your tongue glides through easily, making him gasp inside of your mouth as you wiggle a way through to taste the spit gathered at the sides of his tongue.
“Woah,” he draws back, lips already swollen from the short kiss. “What—we can’t!”
“Why?” Your eyebrows lift, concerned but dropping your bottom onto his lap hungry for more. “You don’t feel it??”
“What?!” Heeseung sits up, belting your waist to keep you in place, regrettably as you swivel in place right against his groin. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t you like me?” You say pathetically, nearly ready to give up the more humiliating this becomes.
“Of course I do!” He laments, massaging up your sides. “I think I like you way more than I’m supposed to.”
“Hee, you’re not my brother.” You state, tucking his cold hands inside of your shirt to warm up against your stomach. “There’s nothing wrong about us kissing.”
Heeseung swallows, telling himself- well that’s simply not true. Other than that fact alone that you are… sleeping with his younger brother. 
“It’s late.” Heeseung sighs, pretending to yawn. “Let me take you home and we can talk about this after a good night's rest.”
“You can’t be serious.” Half offended and with a last stitch of effort you grab onto his hands, pushing them up your stomach, brushing along the underside of your breasts. “I know you feel it.”
Heeseung gulps, head dropping back against the jungle gym with a groan. “Yeah I.. I feel that..”
“It’s okay Hee, I want you.” Leaning in, you capture his mouth once more, sucking in his bottom lip as your hands encourage him to squeeze your chest. 
As hesitant as he feels, Heeseung can’t stop himself from squeezing your breasts, eyes fluttering shut as his length throbs inside of his boxers. “I want you too, you have no idea how bad I want this..”
“Let me see,” you say between kisses, rubbing your tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Show me, do anything you want with me.”
Heeseung’s stomach sinks, unable to stop his mind from drifting to the rough sounds he heard coming from his brother’s bedroom. What if you’re expecting him to be like Sunghoon..
“Please, let me take you home at least. I promise..” he breathes between your lips, softly layering kisses. “I’ll show you.”
“Ugh, fine.” Reluctantly you agree, it is cold out here after all and anyone could walk by, not that you’d mind the idea of getting caught..
Heeseung struggles to tear away from your mouth on the way back to the car, spending another extra 5 minutes with you pressed up to the door and his hands roaming freely under your shirt again. “If you don’t drive me home right now I am going to take off my clothes right here.”
“Okay okay.” He chuckles, running around after getting you inside and clicking your seatbelt. Heeseung mentally pats himself on the back for choosing a park not far from home, especially when you pull his right arm away from the steering wheel to guide him between your thighs.
“I’m so wet for you Hee.”
Practically crashing as he turns into your neighborhood, he coughs, squeezing your inner thigh and speedily parking to get out as fast as he can. “My room.”
Heeseung wraps your arms around his waist, a soft smile spreading across his lips as you both struggle to get up the stairs with your limbs locked around each other. “Your room because you wanna play DJ?”
He blushes, turning the doorknob behind his back and draw you into his bedroom. 
“That obvious?”
“You’re really cute.” You confess, bunching the sides of his shirt up in your fists to keep your bodies close. “Like really really cute.”
Heeseung’s cheeks could alert the fire department, burning up his face hot enough to make his eyes water up. “Ah, you think I’m lame.”
“I think you’re..” the two of you shuffle toward his bed, slowly lifting his top up to his waist. “Sexy..” 
He pulls it off the rest of the way for you, tossing the shirt aside, feeling shy even in the dim lighting entering from the window; breath caught in his throat as you duck to lick his chest, lips trapping one of his nipples with a gentle suck. Fingernails trail down his abdomen, grabbing onto the waistband of his jeans.
“No no..” taking a hold of your hands as you start to unzip him, he stammers taking in your mouth falling to a frown. “No! I mean, feels really good, but..”
Heeseung squeezes your hips, lifting you off your feet for less than a second to set you down on his bed. “Let me show you.”
Running a hand through his hair, he blushes furiously, positive you can feel the heat radiating off his face. He makes fast to the record player, dropping the needle in place to start the album he’d been listening to earlier, your favorite one.
Bending over your body, he bites down on his lips, softly pushing your shirt up your torso as the gentle hum of music reverberates around you.
Don’t wanna take it slow, I wanna take you home and watch the world explode from underneath your glow
Heeseung leaves your shirt just beneath your breasts, hovering over you to kiss along the top of your ribcage, following a path downward to your navel until his mouth meets the button of your shorts. The slow rise and fall of your chest calms his worry, unbuttoning you and easing your bottoms down to your ankles for you to kick away. He shifts down to his knees, prying your thighs open gently, allowing him a perfect view of your drenched through panties completely molded to your core.
“You’re sexy.” Perfect even, Heeseungs says to himself, planting kisses up the sensitive skin lining your inner thigh. “Cute, pretty, hot.” Kissing his way up, he takes extra time to suck on the tender skin where your thigh meets your center. “So so so sexy..”
A low whine sounds above him, your back arching upward the more he teases, tracing the dip between your center and shoving the material of your underwear into your entrance. “Hee!” 
“Shhh…” he licks the dip, tongue stiffening to push your underwear between your slit, tracing up to your clit to suck on through the soaked ruined fabric. Heeseung can’t take it anymore, innate hunger winning against his willpower as he holds your thighs open, planting them to spread out on his bed and drag his nose between the seam taking in a deep inhale. Slurping up the mess of wetness that seeps through the material of your underwear, most of it hitting his chin, trickling down onto the bed.
The groan vibrating against your core has your hips lifting, seeking a way to close your legs out of embarrassment that he could be smelling everything. “Hee, thats—“
Greedily sucking the rest of the wetness that’s smeared along the insides of your thighs, he has to shove aside how hard and painful his cock throbs. That can come later, figuratively and literally.
Playing with the trim lining the waistband of your underwear, he rubs the fabric between his fingers before rolling it down past your knees with practiced finesse; quickly clutching your thighs in a firm grip before you can manage to shut them, he pushes them down as wide as they’ll spread, fully exposing your core. 
Heeseung’s breath catches, nearly groaning at the up close visual of your swollen aroused cunt, dripping a lewd amount out all the way down to his bedding. “So pretty.” He blows, sending a tremor up your thighs. “Just as pretty down here as you are everywhere else.”
Leaning in before you can let out another shattered cry, he licks a thick stripe from your entrance up to your clit. Humming in the back of his throat as your arousal pours down to the back of his tongue. Velvety engorged folds spread out against the pressure of his wide tongue working back and forth to touch each crevice between your legs.
Heeseung can hear your breath quicken and grow louder, plunging into your pulsating wet hole with his nose rubbing against your clit. He groans, dizzy, drunk and brainless as he rubs his face back and forth. Lapping past the resistance of your muscle, he licks and sucks, collecting the wetness pouring from your dripping pussy to swallow down like water. The fingers reaching into his hair pull him to bury in deep, jaw stretching until he hears a crack. He grunts from the pulls on his scalp, slipping free from your cunt to lick up the sides, between your folds, outside and in until his tongue has tasted every inch. 
“Oh my God Hee!” Your feet kick, just barely under his unrelenting hold to keep you spread open. Dragging his tongue up and down repeatedly until a mess of slick covers him from chin to forehead. “S’too—too much, ah—“
His lips press to your clit, sucking the fat nub between his lips with extra force that has you biting down on your hand to not scream. “You’re—no, I’ll—I’ll cum!” Whining, you grow more impatient, unable to stop your hips from twitching up even under his large palms pressing you down. Heeseung could care less, 
lost in the scent and heat of your cunt, he sucks and licks your clit mercilessly, flicking the bud roughly with the tip of his tongue.
“Oh!” Your face squeezes tight, head pushing off from the bed, arching against his mouth giving you no rest. “I’m cumming—I’m cumming!” You chant, mouth hanging open without breathing as an intense orgasm rips through your body, choking on your breath and finally writhing free from Heeseung’s hold when he doesn’t stop; lapping at your freshly spilled entrance like a thirsty dog.
“E-enough.” You tremble, shutting your thighs and turning onto your side, shirt drifting up under your neck and armpits leaving you mostly bare.
Heeseung sits up on the bed, kissing up the side of your thigh to your hip. “Wouldn’t have stopped, you taste so good.”
Now it’s your turn to hide, tucking your face into one of his pillows with a whine. “Ahh, don’t say that.”
“It’s true.” The clink of his zipper lowering follows, turning back around to lay flat and remove your shirt just in time to see Heeseung kick away his pants and boxers, cock standing hard against his stomach; high enough for the head to hit his navel.
He’s big too. 
Biting your lip, you sit up to kiss him, making a face at the amount of slick still coating his chin. Heeseung had no plan to clean any of it off. 
He stares at you wide-eyed and breathless, leaning over you until you lay flat on your back again, brushing hair away from your face. Going in for the kiss first this time, he opens your mouth up with an aggressive push of his tongue; licking inside of your mouth similar to the way he ate you out, messy, greedily drinking the spit that escapes past your lips. More swollen and bitten raw once he settles against your chest and scoops the back of your thighs around his hips.
Leaving your knees bent to cage around him, Heeseung smooths a palm down between your breasts, down past your stomach to grab a hold around his length. He bites down, already covered in your arousal in less than a minute of your lower halves touching. “So wet.” Mumbling to himself, he delivers a few strokes to his length, spreading your slick down to the tip, not that you need the extra lubrication.
Heeseung’s hand trembles around the base of his cock, a reminder of how nervous he actually is as he drags the tip between your folds, dipping in and out of your entrance just enough to have your head spinning. Pawing at his chest to give you more as he teases and groans at how loud the sound of your wetness radiates; pushed in and out against the kisses meeting his cockhead.
“Hee, please, please fuck me.” You say, feeling delirious with each empty deceived clench from your body, chasing after the stretch only his cock can give you.
Finally pushing in past the tip, his chest lays flat against yours, stealing the gasped moan you let out with a fierce kiss. Burying in deeper until he meets obstruction and lets a broken cry inside of your warm wet mouth. 
“F-fuck me baby,” you moan, sucking his bottom lip in with hard bite. “Show me, show me.”
Heeseung’s forehead wrinkles, biting down and grinding his teeth to not whimper between short staggered breaths. He won’t last if he fucks you the way he really wants to. The way he needs to.
Nodding rapidly, he tries to memorize every squeeze that your soft wet wall's pulse around him. Wet, so insanely wet, pouring down to his balls, forming a mess between even his thighs. Heeseung lifts back with heavy eyes to watch your face fall apart, tongue lolled out with nothing behind your eyes but unruly lust. “Fuck me.”
He lets go, rolling his hips forward as hard and deep as you can take him.
“Oh fuckkk!” Heeseung gasps as you arch against him, slapping his chest with balled up fists. It’s better than either of you could have imagined, chasing a fast release off instinct alone while still holding back to make each sensation last longer.
“You’re so tight,” Heeseung says with a linger of pain in his tone. Taking a hold of your wrists, he pins them to your chest, gently shushing your cries. Slowly dragging his cock out halfway and back in to ease the stretch. “You okay?”
A choked moan passes through your lips, nodding fast. “S-so big.”
Kissing your chin, Heeseung nods and loosens his hold on your wrist, easing your hands to lay flat by your head. “Relax for me,” taking a deep breath, he pushes in to the hilt, lower back aching the more he holds himself back from fucking you in earnest and pounding you through his bed. “Can you do that for me?”
A faint ‘yes’ shudders out, losing your breath as he starts to drag his dick out, hissing with each reflexive clench you give him. Heeseung tries, he really tries to hold back, pushing through your heated resistance slowly, but with each glide back in a mess of slick wetness drips out past the intrusion of his size. The smear of wetness leaking down to his thighs in fat wads now, coating the back of your ass and thighs, making each collision of your meeting skin more debauched. 
Another squeeze around him has a broken cry ripping from his throat, moistening the backs of his eyes as he finally breaks and snaps forward to bury in balls deep, making you feel every inch. Heeseung rides through your clamped heat, thrusts turning erratic with his digits finding purchase in your wrist; painfully digging his nails into the soft skin hard enough to leave behind marks of crescent moons.
Rapid tightening pressure around his cock draws more effort on his part, planting his knees on the bed to fuck you with more strength behind his hips. Through the wet layer fogging his gaze he finds your eyes, blown wide with your mouth hung open pouring saliva from the corners. His heart jumps fiercely enough to make him fear it could erupt, ears gone numb to all other than the wanton sounds of your whimpers traced between the song playing.
No one else has a hold over me like you do
You open up the covers, you lure me in
Tackle me anxious, back into bed
Well, I hope to discover all of your ways
This place is death, I know you feel the same
He can’t stop the embarrassingly desperate noises that drip from his mouth as he fucks you with renewed urgency, pressing down until you are chest to chest to snake his hands under your ass and push your hips against his. The new angle gets him in even deeper somehow, nose scrunched up as a strong wave of heat runs rampant in his stomach, tightening up the heavy weight between his thighs. “C-close—I’m so so c-close.”
Struggling to keep up his thrusts the more you tighten up, Heeseung shifts, smoothing down the side of your thigh to wrap around the back of your knee and push your thigh up. The mind-numbing pleasured cry you let out has him fucking into you with abandon, desperate to get you off before he can finish. 
“Come on,” he grits, fingers digging into your leg, calve jostling by your head under the force of his weight pummeling against you. “C’mon baby.” He hits deep, the head of his length kissing your cervix, grinding with a low growling moan.
“P-plea—“ breaking off, your neck bends back, eyes meeting the back of your skull letting a silent cry fly free. Heeseung tries to fuck you through it, beginning to sweat down his face as he grips onto your leg harder and rams forward. 
“Fuckmefuckme,” you babble deliriously between whimpers, tears spilling down your cheeks. “W-want it, cum inside me, f-fuck—want it, want it!” You moan, half pained by over sensitivity the longer he goes, reaching to run your fingers through his hair in search of something to pull on.
Heeseung grunts, leaning in to lick the droplets of salty tears dangling from your chin, gone senseless beyond the addictive warmth sucked around his cock. “I-I’m—fuck!”
A handful of sloppy thrusts more has his balls clenching up, so heavy where they slap and land against the crevice of your ass. He curses, burying himself as deep as your body can take to spill inside. Cock thrumming madly with each shot of hot streaks of cum pouring out. “C-cumming” he gasps, mouth gone dry with spit covering his chin, slumping down onto you with a long sigh.
“Hee..” you cough, leg dropping from his weakened hold. “Can’t breathe.”
“Sorry sorry..” Heeseung bites his lip, pushing his upper half up on numbed arms, slowly drawing his hips back. “Ugh..” he has to look away as white creamy release chases after his length, cock throbbing from the sight of your needy hole gaping open and shut. “Sorry for that..”
“It’s okay.”
He reaches for your shirt before settling back next to you, eyes heavy with sleep and cheeks bunched up from a lazy smile.
“I should probably go to my room before my mom wakes up.” You say sadly, dragging a finger down his lips. “Don’t want to.”
“Don’t want you to.” Heeseung kisses, chasing after your finger with an open mouth. “We can just tell her the truth, that you slept in here.”
“The whole truth?”
“Well, no..” he says, capturing the tip of your finger to suck around, slowly sliding off with a wet pop. “She’d probably never let you out of the house again if she found out about..”
“Yeah..” you share a look, sighing sadly. “Try not to dream of me too much, lover boy.”
Stepping back into your underwear with a grimace, you throw your shorts into his hamper, winking at him and ordering that he wash them for you before you exit.
Heeseung can feel his cheeks itch with heat again, covering his eyes with a smile. How can he still feel shy after all of that..
“Goodnight.”
“Nighty.” You say, cheeks aching from smiling so much. 
“Well well well.” Sunghoon stands across the hallway as you do your best to quietly tiptoe your way out of Heeseung’s bedroom, jumping up and covering your mouth to not scream at his shadowy figure looming nearby. “What do we have here?”
“Hoon?” You say after a night of listening to Heeseung use the nickname over and over again. “What the hell are you doing out here? It’s like 3am.”
“I should ask you the same thing. What the hell are you doing sneaking out of my brother's bedroom in the middle of the night, huh?” Sunghoon steps into the small streak of light coming through the hallway window, jaw flexed tight. “I told you that I’d find out.”
“What? By standing out here with your ear pressed against the door like some creep? What the hell is wrong with you?!”
“Don’t change the subject.” Sunghoon corners you, pushing your shoulders against the wall. “And keep your voice down, you’re lucky our parents room is on the other side of the house with those dying animal squeals you were screaming out.”
“You’re such a dick.”
“Anyway,” he traces down the side of your face, flinching away from his touch only for his hand to cup around your jaw and keep your eyes on him. “No more of this, I’ll let it go just this one time because you’re pretty dumb.”
“I don’t need to listen to anything you say.”
“Oh, but you do, don’t you?” He speaks softly, thumb brushing your bottom lip. “And you will.”
“Why? Because you’ll run and tell my mommy that you made me suck your dick for some test answers?” You sneer, slapping your palm on his forearm. 
“I’m giving you a warning.” Sunghoon pecks your upper lip and Cupid’s bow, leaving out any mention of why. Not because he likes you or anything, not Park Sunghoon. “Take it seriously or don’t. Either way you’ll learn to listen to me.”
Pressing a firm kiss to your lips, he lingers, pecking the top and bottom over and over again. “Hate to think you let him defile that pretty mouth, almost repulses me to kiss you right now.”
Sunghoon backs up, raising an eyebrow and grabbing onto your elbows. “Let’s get you washed up before you go to sleep at least, you smell like cum.”
“Hoon, stop!” You whisper, panicked as he leads you to his bedroom. “Where are you taking me!”
Sunghoon kicks his bedroom door open, maneuvering you to his personal bathroom. “You can’t be this stupid.”
“Let me go!” 
“Shut up.” He snarls, pushing you toward the shower door. “Get in there, and make sure you clean yourself good.”
“What the fuck is your problem?!” You whine, forced inside as he barricades the open glass door and leers at you, nodding his chin at your shirt. 
“Tick tock, I’m waiting.” Sunghoon eyes the shirt hanging on your frame, reaching for the collar to pull on. “Is this Heeseung’s?! You’re wearing his clothes now???”
“Let go! You’re stretching it!”
Ignoring you, he pulls more, not even fazed by the slaps you deliver as he reaches for the hem and pulls the material up over your face leaving you no choice but to let him take it off. He lets out a sound of disapproval, reaching for the sides of your underwear. “You didn’t seriously let that asshole bust a nut inside of you.”
“Stop!” 
Sunghoon growls, pushing himself inside the shower until your back meets the chilled tile wall with a shiver. “You’re more disgusting than I thought, when did you start fucking him? Before or after our parents got married.”
He doesn’t give you time to answer, turning the shower on with the water beating down on your head. “Can’t believe he fucked you before me.” He mutters, shoving your now completely soaked underwear down. “You probably think he’s so fucking nice, don’t you?”
Tears well up in your eyes before you can blink them away fast enough, slapping the heel of your palms on his drenched shirt. “You are the only asshole here.”
“You fucking like it.” Sunghoon smirks, uncapping a bottle of body wash to squirt on your chest. “Clean it all out, it’s bad enough I have to fuck you after he did.”
“What?!” He throws a brand new washcloth at you, stepping back to the door dripping water all over the bathroom floor, head snapping with command. 
“Hurry up, my dicks getting hard watching you act so helpless.” He winks, reaching for the shower head to aim between your thighs, focused on the remnants of thick white cum seeping out from between your clenched thighs. “You let him fuck your ass too?”
Sunghoon asks as you turn away from him to reach between your legs and push out the last bits of Heeseung’s cum, nose scrunched in disgust from his comment. Pinching your buttcheek, he laughs, moving back to discard his wet clothing into a dirty hamper. “I guess you weren’t lying about not being a virgin after all, shame.” Licking the backs of his teeth, he scoffs. “My dicks bigger than his anway.”
“I’m going to my room.” You say, turning off the shower after rinsing the soap off of your skin. “And you are going to leave me alone.”
Sunghoon lets out a slow fake laugh, dropping his pajama bottoms when you turn to look at him. The white bathroom background illuminating his porcelain complexion, defined muscles flexing as he reaches for the top of the shower door, showing off his bare naked body. “Am I now?”
“Why do you even want me?”
He hums, making slow movements to bring down his arms and circle the ring on his finger, leisurely sliding it off and setting the silver band down on the bathroom counter. “Why do you think?
“You can have anyone you want.”
“Exactly.” Sunghoon tips his chin in, fitting his gaze down your wet chest and stomach. “And I want you.” Stepping back into the shower, he moves forward, a smile growing on one side of his face with each step back you take until you hit the wall again, chest rising and falling more rapidly as he looks over your figure. “Hard to believe, right?”
Tapping your nose, his index finger drags down from there, tracing the outline of your lips to your chin and the center of your neck. “Heeseung and I have always shared a similar type though.”
The mention of his brother makes you flinch, stomach churning with guilt as his finger lowers and flicks your nipples, breathily laughing the more you twitch under his taunting touch. “Or maybe he just always wants what I have.”
“You don’t have me.” You seeth under your breath, turning away from his steely gaze. 
“Don’t I?” Continuing to trace, he circles your navel, smoothing the pathway lower to the heat between your thighs. “You want me to stop?”
Lack of response and eye contact pulls another laugh out of him, crawling his digits down past your mound to your upper thighs. “I’ll take that as a no.”
Lack of air clears your lungs, finding it impossible to breathe, shutting your eyes to ignore the guilt clawing through your chest from inside out. Sunghoon hums, sliding a knee between your thighs for access to your center. “Look at me.”
With a gulp, you blink, slowly lifting your gaze to find his eyes. Black large pupils stare back at you, ridden with lust and desire, he leans closer, mouth hovering yours. “Good girl.”
The middle of your chest caves, shoulders slumping in as he cups around your core and groans, lips pulled over his teeth. “Can’t say no when you’re already this wet.”
Sighing, you accept your fate knowing in the back of your mind that you could have tried harder to stop him, you should have tried harder to stop him…
Sunghoon’s eyes stay locked on yours, tickling lower until the tips of his fingers find your entrance and scoop up the embarrassing amount of slick that’s already begun to pour out. It’s only because his brother just fucked you, that’s what you say to convince yourself. 
His hand raises between your faces, mouth dropped open letting out a dramatic gasp. “Look at that, so fucking wet it’s dripping down to my wrist, you dirty little..” he breaks off into a grin, shoving the coated fingers to your lips and pushing inside for you to gag around. “Taste it, that’s all for me. That’s your body begging for me.”
It’s not your fault he’s right.. even as you choke and spit around his digits finding the way to the back of your throat, you can’t deny the spike of heat building from your lower belly. 
Sunghoon swipes his fingers clean of your wet arousal and spit over your chin and cheeks, further adding to how degrading he treats you. The way your heart hammers through your chest makes it hard to convince yourself that you hate it..
He lets out a throaty chuckle, licking the mess off your chin and biting down on your bottom lip. “You really are something.” A smug smile pulls at his lips, reaching up to move your wet hair behind your ears. “You even look pretty out of the shower, you know that?”
“..really?”
Sunghoon’s tongue prods between his lips, licking at one side proudly, eyebrows furrowing as what he just said settles. “Yeah..” stifling his breath, he backs away with a fake cough, stepping out uncomfortably. “I’m not going to fuck you in the shower though.”
Silence hangs between the two of you for a minute, telling yourself you could still try to leave… you could..
He backs up to the door, grabbing onto the sides halfway out of the bathroom into his bedroom, full eyebrows raised at you before turning away.
He’s right, you are stupid.
Sunghoon’s standing with his back faced toward you, waiting for you to make the next move. Reaching for his shoulder, you gingerly lay your hand down, already short of breath. “Hoon..”
“You want it?” He asks, voice deep, carrying a hint of a smile in his tone. 
“Yes..”
Turning to you fast he pushes you to the wall, breath knocked out as his palms circle your waist. “What do I get out of it? Your used up pussy?”
“You get to fuck me.” Your mouth goes dry, lip shaking half from nerves, half out of anger. “Isn’t that what you want?”
“I can fuck you regardless.” Amusement carries in his voice, sliding one hand to your throat. “Better than he can too, wanna find out?”
With burning cheeks you duck your face in, tongue heavy in your mouth keeping your lips shut tight. “You really like him, huh?” He huffs, cursing under his breath. “That’s fine. I can change that.”
Sunghoon squats down, arms curling under your thighs to lift your feet off the floor, a cocky smile stretching across his face as he catches your shocked gasp. Propping your back against the wall, his teeth grit, hoisting your weight into his hold with added renewed strength, more determined to fuck your brain into nothing but a puddle of liquid. “Because believe me, he’ll never fuck you like this.”
His arms slide behind your knees getting a firm grip on your hips, cock dragging between your folds. “God, you’re so wet.” He sucks in a sharp breath, knees bending to get the head of his cock lined up with your hole. “Get this wet just from me being mean to you or what?” 
His teeth grind, still managing to breathe a chuckle through his exertion. “Just wanna get fucked? Doesn’t matter if I put it in your throat or pussy, probably even let me fuck your ass right now wouldn’t you?”
“N-no..”
The tip of his cock tugs at the muscle of your entrance, prodding no more than the slit in, arousal jolting through you with each teasing pass. It takes a second between your chest tightening and stomach flipping over to realize Sunghoon’s palms have lowered, landing a stinging slap to cup your ass; slowly dragging your back upwards on the wall to allow for his cock to fully enter inside in one fell swoop.
“What was that?!” He growls, cock throbbing.
“Yes!” You breathe in, eyes rolling back, chest heaving up and down. “Please—fuck me, a-ah, fuck me!”
and Sunghoon listens, thrusting forward with a firm grind, cock fully sheathed rearranging your insides. “That’s right. Want me to fuck your pussy real good? Want me to fuck that pussy the way it deserves to be fucked?” He spits, eyes ablaze with a crazed want, need to release. The stretch from his cock still manages to burn and sting, unable to lock your legs around him from the position he holds you in, full control over your body left to his arms flexed around you; pushing past the clenched up fight of muscle wrapped around him.
“God so fucking good.” His hips pull back, snapping forward at a maddening pace; rocking into your heat hard and rough, enough to make it hurt. “Such a good girl.”
Shivers rock up your spine, powerless to his strength over you as you weakly grip onto his shoulders for balance and security out of fear of falling. “Hoonie..”
He groans, head tipping back listening to your muffled broken moans, the call of his name shooting straight to his cock. “I’m gonna fucking ruin you.” He stammers, sweat collecting on his brow bone the more he exerts, hips unrelenting with each skin-slapping piston he delivers. “Don’t even know how fucking good you are.”
The veins lining Sunghoon’s neck pulsate violently, picking up his pace even more, balls slapping loudly throughout his bedroom with every thrust. The sound of wetness gushing between your bodies drills fear in your chest, loud enough that anyone passing by outside would be able to pick up easily on. “H-hoon… I’m—cum, I’ll c-cum..” you try to say clearly, on the verge of bursting around the unforgiving slam of his length.
“Fucking cum then! cum around my cock.” He doesn’t slow down, gaze focused carefully on watching the juncture where his dick disappears past your pulsating dripping wet cunt. Sucking in another sharp breath, he slaps your ass again. “Cum.”
That sends you flying over the edge, groaning out loud, arms gone limp over his shoulders; whole body jerking back against the wall from the overstimulation. Sunghoon fucks into you roughly as your release drenches past his cock, clapping the wet mess from his thighs to your ass, and it hurts, shocking your neck ramrod straight with wide eyes. “No—h-hurts!”
“Did I fucking cum yet?” He says between clenched teeth, dropping your jelly-like limp legs from his arms, punctuating the question with a particularly rough thrust. Breathing out harshly, he looks animalistic, wild eyes glaring at you before ripping your shoulder from the wall to slam you against it on your front; chest hitting hard stealing a gasp of breath from your lungs.
“I say when we are done.” He says, splitting your ass open to push his length back in. “You asked to get fucked, so you’re going to get fucked.”
Sunghoon groans, fingertips finding your hips to bury into, thrusting too hard and fast for you to fully enjoy. Round after round between the two brothers finally taking it out of you, whimpering in over sensitivity as he hits deep inside of you and rips another orgasm out of you, much weaker than the last. “Oh that’s so good,” he grunts, fucking into you harder. “The way your pussy sucks around me just like that.”
He keeps at it, muttering about how good your cunt feels the tighter you get. “I’d never fuck my girlfriend like this.” Sunghoon breathes into your ear, eyelashes fluttering wildly at the way you grip around him, and then he’s cumming. Cock buried deep inside, pumping out drop after drop of his release between breathless groans. “Fuck.”
Sighing, he drops flat against you kissing your sweaty nape.
“Now you’re going to listen to me once and for all.” He thrusts again, pushing out his cum with each backstroke. “And end this shit with my brother, or else I swear..” biting the shell of your ear he pants heavily, licking down to your earlobe. “I’ll make sure you both regret it. Don’t want that, do you?”
Layering kisses down your cheek, he bites your jaw down to your chin, burying inside to the hilt again. “Be a good girl.”
“Fuck off.” You mumble, more than past sensitivity between your thighs. Emptied and exhausted you fall back, slapping his forearm around your waist weakly. “No more.”
“Be quiet.” He grunts, turning you both around and throwing you down on his bed on your stomach, mounting your hips to line his cock back up to your hole. “And take it.” 
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Sunghoon’s an idiot.
At least that’s what you can’t help to think as he stomps into the kitchen and lets out an overdramatic wheeze at the sight of you squished against his brother’s side at the kitchen island.
“Well.” Popping his lips, he tucks them in, dimples pinching deep holes into his cheek. “Aren’t the two of you up early.” He says, eyes laser focused on you. “Did you even sleep?”
Heeseung stiffens up, swiping away from one of the videos he recorded during the concert; locking his phone and moving to stand.
“Hee, where are you going?”
Sunghoon scoffs, opening the fridge up aggressively in search of a protein shake, mouthing ‘HEE?!’ where he faces away from you.
“Uhm,” Heeseung scratches his neck, quickly glancing at his brother and then back at you. “Back to my room.”
“You have fun in there.” Sunghoon interrupts, mixing his pre-workout. “You.” Snapping his fingers in your face, he melts you in place with a sleek angry glare. “Tutoring in an hour, your professor emailed again and you have a test this week.”
“Yeah no.” Getting up to follow behind Heeseung, you flip Sunghoon off on your way out. “Can’t meet with you today, sorry! Don’t worry though, I’ll find a way to get some studying done.”
Sunghoon crushes the now emptied protein shake carton in his grip, stopping himself from running after you to drag you to his room by your hair. “What a little..”
Brushing off your attitude, he swipes open his phone to open up a chat with your mother to inform her of your negligence; emphasizing how worried he is over you passing this class, adding in that at this rate you will without a doubt fail.
He response comes in shortly, thanking him more than once for putting up with you. ‘She won’t be wasting any more of your time, I’ll be sure to cut off her subscriptions if she tries to pull this. Please give her one more chance Hoonie, you sweet darling boy❤️’
Smirking, he pockets his phone, counting down his fingers for the sound of your scream after the telltale ring of your cell phone carries from upstairs.
“What?! Mom! No!” 
Feisty. Sunghoon laughs to himself, pleased on his way back to his bedroom only to be stopped by your figure running toward him.
“What is your problem!” You hiss, lightly shoving his shoulder. “You seriously fucking called my mom to snitch on me?”
“No,” Sunghoon pouts innocently, breaking into a smile. “I texted.”
Practically foaming at the mouth, you grab him by the shirt, pulling him toward your bedroom. “Listen to me asshole!” You shriek, using all of your strength to push him inside of your room, kicking the door shut behind you. “How many times do I need to tell you to leave me alone?!”
Sunghoon smiles, shrugging as he begins to look around your room. “You’re kind of turning me on, try saying it again.”
“Sunghoon!” Charging at him, you throw your body forward at his chest, knocking him back enough for his ass to plant on your bed, surprise drawing his eyebrows up his forehead.
“What happened to.. what was it again?” Snapping his fingers, he taps his chin, eyes widening. “Oh right! Hoon! Hoonie!!!” He drags out, moaning in a high pitched tone.
“Last night was a one time thing.”
“Sure,” Sunghoon leans back on his palms, biting a smile away as he eyes you. “Sucks that you left me to wake up alone though..”
Coiled heat spirals through your gut, forcing yourself to look away. “I don’t need to get in trouble because of your ass on top of everything, luckily for me I managed to wake up after you fucked me until I passed out. Asshole.”
“You liked it,” he smirks, sitting up to rub up and down the sides of your thighs. “Just like you like this…this rough-housing between us, the hot banter and childish little arguments.”
“You’re delusional, I don’t like any of this.”
Sunghoon pouts, pulling you to stand between his parted thighs and hug around your hips with his chin perched on your stomach. “You don’t like me?”
Heeseung clears his throat from your bedroom door, too caught up with his younger brother to even think that he’d come looking for you after bursting out of his room to ‘kill Sunghoon’.
“Sorry,” he says, beginning to back up. “Didn’t know you were busy.”
“Hee! No!”
Sunghoon stands up fast, pulling you into a full body hug so that you can’t turn around and chase after his brother. “Yeah Hee, we’re busy, scram.”
The older nods, slowly pulling the door shut with a broken expression. “Heeseung please!” You scream as a last stitch of effort. “Please! Don’t leave!!”
Sunghoon sighs, rolling his eyes and shoving you away. “Fine, let’s settle this shit right now.”
Heeseung pauses, eyes wide and alert bouncing back and forth between the two of you, the panic in your gaze pulling him inside like an invisible string to come in. “Settle what?”
“This.” Sunghoon repeats brazenly, motioning between the three of you. “You’re fucking her, I’m fucking her, better too.”
Heeseung scoffs, shaking his head.
“And I don’t like that.” Sunghoon continues. “So, what are we going to do about this? Big brother.” He carps, managing to make the title come across as an insult. 
“Sunghoon, stop this!” You intervene, getting between them. “What about your girlfriend?!”
“Yeah Hoonie.” Heeseung says from behind you, moving closer until his chest meets your back. “You think Miyeon would love to know about how you cheat on her every other weekend with random sluts you meet at parties?”
Sunghoon shakes his head with a smug sneer, eyes rolling between an anxious blink. “And you Heeseung? Should I tell dad about your weekend adventures? The real reason you’re flunking out of uni? The truth behind why you’re such a fucking failure?”
Heeseung stiffens behind you, clutching at your shirt by your lower back. “Hee?”
“It’s not what you think Hoon..”
“What? So I just made up all those times I’ve had to watch you embarrass yourself, stumbling out of parties high and drunk off your ass?” Sunghoon huffs a cruel laugh. “Real nice, how you’d clearly rather fuck up your head than evolve, better yourself and try to not be such a low life prick.”
“Enough!” You interrupt, sensing the tension radiating off Heeseung’s body. “God.”
Taking a deep breath, you have to pause, remembering that you have only heard one side of this story…
“I’m doing better..” Heeseung whispers behind you, the bottom half of his face buried in his chest to hide. “Haven’t been going out the way I used to, I know I need to stop Hoon. I’m trying..”
“Oh Hee..” you turn, slinking your arms around his waist. 
“Ugh.” Sunghoon pretends to gag. “Bullshit! Trying my ass! You’ve never tried to fix anything!”
Heeseung frowns, slumping in your hold, eyes falling shut. “I don’t know what else you want from me, Hoonie.”
“I want you to get the fuck up off my gi—“ Sunghoon catches his breath, pausing and stepping back, lips twitching furiously. “Fuck.” He turns, hands set on hips visibly shaking from the rage coursing through his body.
“You can’t just..” you start, chewing on your bottom lip, weighing if you’re overstepping boundaries too much. “Talk?”
Heeseung trembles, clearly living in some fear of his brother. A similar cycle to the one you’ve found yourself racing through..
“No!” Sunghoon snaps, twisting back around to face the two of you, features tight and full of anger. “I have nothing to say to him.”
Heeseung nods, rubbing down your back reassuringly. “It’s okay, I have a lot to explain to make this fair.”
“It’s okay Hee, really..”
Sunghoon sneers, muttering under his breath about how repulsive this is, regretting his need for confrontation. 
“No no,” Heeseung continues. “Hoonie’s right, I’m a fuck up.. fucked up our relationship, fucked up my education. I fucked up my life, I know.” He reiterates, nodding and agreeing with Sunghoon. “I should have been there for you back then Hoon..”
The younger flinches, tearing his gaze away, jaw twitching. “Don’t bother, you’re too late.”
“Come on Sunghoon..” you say shakily, reaching for his hand, only for him to snatch it away. Taking a few steps back to create distance between you.
“Yeah..” Heeseung swallows, throat dry as tears gather at his waterline. “I know, but you’ll always be my little brother, and if you ever need me.. I’m here for you.”
“No you’re not.” Sunghoon sucks between his teeth, licking his lips and rubbing his eyes frustrated, using the fast action to clear away moisture. “If you’re serious then leave her alone, let me have this for once.”
“Hee, no, do not listen to him!” You speak up, glaring at the younger. “I’m not some fucking conquest Sunghoon, I’m a person, not a trophy to hold over your brothers head just because you have bad blood.”
“I didn’t say that.” Sunghoon snaps at you, baring his teeth. “Why are you even getting involved?! You’re just making this worse!” 
“Hoon, come on dude.” Heeseung moves in front of you, shielding you as if his brother would do something that would require that.
Sunghoon’s eyes bulge, bloodshot with his temper skyrocketing, pushing up to his brother nose to nose, a spark of pride roaring through his chest at the lack of difference in their height. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”
Heeseung’s gaze lowers, running his tongue along the backs of his teeth nervously. “Nothing man, nothing.” Holding his hands up defenseless, he turns toward you, face drained of energy. “Sorry about all of this.”
“It’s okay baby,“ you console, burying your face in his chest, arms seeking his waist to squeeze around tightly until he gasps for a breath and breaks into a smile. “You don’t have to apologize to me.”
“I can’t believe this.” Sunghoon barks, gaining your attention again.
“Hoon, listen..” without releasing Heeseung, you turn to face him, lip tweaking down slightly. “It’s not personal, but I like your bro—“
“Enough!” He shouts, stomping toward the door. Refusing to hear that for the second time in his life, one unforgettable heartbreak was enough already.
Sighing, you return to rubbing your face in Heeseung’s warm embrace, releasing the built up stress and negative energy circulating around you. Big hands soothe down your spine, setting soft barely there kisses on your forehead, mumbling under his breath. “Thank you.“
Sunghoon backs out quietly, blinking away the itch behind his eyes. Typical of his brother to never let him have anything, even the last days with their mother when he selfishly pushed his younger brother away and told him to stay in his room. Fucking asshole could never be there for him the way a normal sibling should be. Heeseung never once chose him over a woman, not their mom, not you, and not her.
He nods to himself, clicking the door shut behind him with his jaw set tight. It’d be too easy to walk away now, accept defeat, allow for Heeseung to kick dirt in his face once again… 
But Sunghoon has never liked taking the easy route.
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“Did you honestly think that was it?” Sunghoon leans against your bedroom door, stepping in and kicking it shut behind him, startling you as he makes his way in with a venomous glare laser focused on you. “Think I give up that easily?”
“Get out of my room!” You hurriedly whisper, getting up to push him back to the door. “What the hell is your problem!? Why do you keep showing up?!”
“You. Him. You’re both my problem.” Sunghoon sneers, taking a hold of your wrists to pin them down by your sides and press your back flush against the door. 
“There’s nothing to give up!” Continuing to hiss, you thrust your weight forward, barely shifting his figure back enough to take a deep breath and lighten him off your torso. “You. Have. A. Girlfriend.”
“Semantics.” Rolling his eyes, Sunghoon waves off your annoyance. “A girlfriend, what’s a girlfriend to you anyway? The girl you met, shook hands with, and then proceeded to fuck her boyfriend anyway?”
“You!” Huffing, you beat his chest, using your strength to shove. “You know why!”
“Oh, because we made a fair trade? Your grades improve and I get in a nut once in a while.” He shrugs nonchalantly. “Big fucking deal.”
“It is a big fucking deal you prick.”
“It wasn’t, until you did exactly what I told you not to do and fucked my brother.” He glares at you, forehead wrinkling at the mention of Heeseung. “The one thing I fucking asked of you, and now here you are, in love or some shit.” He says, hands raised to make quotations with a disgusted leer tugging his face down.
“You never told me to not..” sighing, you slump against the door, head aching as you wonder how this could possibly be your life. “Why do you even care?! I don’t get it.”
“You wouldn’t.” Stepping back, he saunters to your pinboard of clippings from magazines, quotes and poems about different parts of Europe you’ve dreamed of every summer. “But maybe you will, eventually.”
Sunghoon traces one of the phones of a couple skiing through the Swiss Alps, scoffing under his breath at the idea of you and his brother venturing off together on some romantic getaway. Chuckling under his breath he rips off the photo of the Venice Canals, turning back to face you.
“I’ll be sure to have my father’s assistant only book the best accommodations for us.” Sunghoon grins cockily, placing his hand along the side of your neck. “Five stars only, my princess deserves the best.”
“What?” You sneer, slapping his arm away. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Our dream summer vacation.” He says dumbfounded, mouth hung open offended that you dare to forget. “The one you’ve been working your ass off to better your grades for.”
“Hoon, what—“
“Because you don’t really believe you can just run off to Europe easypeasy after fucking not only one, but both of your step-brothers?!” Sunghoon gasps, grabbing at his chest dramatically. “What would your mother say?! Man, with how strict she is, she’d probably ship your ass off to live on your grandmother's farm in the middle of nowhere. At least that’s what she said over dinner that one time with Miyeon..”
“You wouldn’t.”
“I wouldn’t?” He smiles, batting his eyelashes innocently. “Can you be so sure?”
“But why?” You ask desperately, head beginning to throb from this back and forth.
Sunghoon shrugs sarcastically, eyes bulging out to mock you with an expression that flat out says ‘are you stupid?’. 
“Summer in Europe.” He opens up your door, peering over his shoulder with a dazzling sharp grin. “Can’t wait.
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Next- Heaven & Back: part 1
taglist 1: @wvnkoi @yjwluvs @fictional-waste @heedeungieluvbot @moonmoongi @moonlighthoon @ddazed-lhs @en-gine @deobitifull @aeminju @eladandan @dneltrise @downbadreading @iweirdthingsblog @beomgyusonlywife @mevalemadrws @sunghoonsbaebae @iloafeyoo @sunnysunn @axmdocs @renxchz @seuomo @parkhonnie @hoonspot @aphrodijin @donghyckl @sxftiell @diputaka @jinlarities @nshmrarki @idkcallmenevy @wonniestars @mimimovv @valiantcyclevoid @misodiary @hafuunkjw @lmnhead @unlikelysublimekryptonite @m00nlitdaisy @vislovelywife @skzenhalove @143won @maybee-may @erxnsthot @iamliacamila @renjunscented @luvdroids @purplepoetrygoatee @vensulove @jenblovescatsbro @zerasari
4K notes · View notes
bombsonboard · 1 month
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metal arm brrr
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Summary: Every problem needs a solution. Bucky just isn't the biggest fan of yours.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Word Count: 1k
Tags: Fluff in the highest degree, old married couple, Swearing (It's Bucky, duh)
A/N: I just needed to give you guys something, it's been too long since i've written on here and you guys are the best :) I've barely checked this over so I apologize for any typos.
*****
“Can you stop moving, please?” 
Bucky Barnes half asleep is not someone you want to mess with. The first time you shuffled he had hardly made a sound, the second you were met with a low grumble (a warning you knew well) and the third strike, he was thirty seconds from kicking you out of the bed. 
When Bucky had finally learnt to sleep in a bed again, mostly thanks to you, he steadily became a big fan of his beauty sleep and god help anyone who ended up disturbing him. He had a lot to catch up on. Once, you had violently shaken him awake because his phone was ringing and when he heard Sam on the other line, you were deemed a ‘sleep thief’ for a week and a half after. Bucky Barnes was a bitch when it came to his sleep. 
You usually wouldn't have any complaints about being in his vice grip but it was January and the nights were still cold and having a boyfriend with a metal arm meant that you were held to him with an ice cold grip around your waist. When the Summer came, it was a life saver, your own personal refrigerator but you still had a good few months to go before you were hanging off his arm everyday. 
“Sorry.” You mumbled and tried to convince yourself you were comfortable without another word.
Nope, can’t do it. You shift again. 
“You’re kidding- what is it?” He pulls away from you and sits up on his elbow, glaring, he dares you. “Go on.”
With the most innocent doe eyes you could muster you slip your bottom lip between your teeth and debate the argument you could spark when your gaze slips to his vibranium arm in the semi darkness.
He doesn’t miss a thing, you’ve come to realize.
“I swear if you say-”
“-It’s cold! I’m cold! It’s just too much cold!” You burst, arms flailing in desperation. 
“It’s my arm! You said you wanted to sleep on my left, this is my left arm, nothing I can do. Okay?”
“There has to be something.” You search the room for solutions, briefly lingering on the sock drawer. 
“Oh yeah, sorry, let me just take it off.” Bucky grunts, dripping with sarcasm. 
“...If you could?”
“Seriously, fuck you.” 
Bucky falls back into his beloved pillow, eyes shut and wishing he has chosen a partner that let him sleep peacefully, then again, why would he want that when you exist?
“Look, either come to the other side or deal with it.” 
Silence finally reaches your bedroom and Bucky is deeply in dreamland while you lie awake, scheming away. 
In the early hours, you slip out of bed without a sound and make a beeline for the sock drawer, knowing you had some old pairs of slipper socks stuffed at the back. Scissors in hand, you snipped off the toes and smiled at the D.I.Y leg warmers. Oh, he was gonna be mad. 
With nearly medical precision, you held out the slumbering Bucky’s arm in front of you and one by one, slid the fluffy socks up the freezing metal until it was sufficiently covered. Thanking the universe, he was a pretty heavy sleeper, you shuffled back under the covers and happily wrapped the soft arm back around your waist. 
You slept like a lamb after that.
*****
When the morning came, you woke up before him like usual and briefly left him to his own devices as you made coffee, two mugs sitting on the counter beside each other. 
Through the wall, you faintly hear the rising of the soldier before heavy footsteps quickly storm in your direction.
“The fuck is this?”
You look up to see him in the doorway, and find yourself the subject of a stare that would send millions running. Not you. The multicolored socks lined up his arm kind of softened his hoped effect and you had to stifle your laughter. 
“A solution?” You shrug.
“No.” He points at you with his flesh arm accusingly “Nu-uh. This? This is not how we solve things.”
“Is it not? I’m really digging the rainbow on you.” The giggle you had tried to push down had spilled over.
“You’re a fucking menace.” 
The giggle now a full bodied laugh that had you clutching at your chest as you were overcome with the image of your big, scary, ‘world’s most deadly assassin’ boyfriend glaring daggers at you while donning the most fluffy and most colorful socks up his arm.
Bucky was fighting a grin with all his might, your laughter was like an ugly disease, incredibly contagious, hard to avoid, and annoying.
Something soft hits you in the face and you halt your hysterics as you peer at the slipper sock now at your feet. Lifting your gaze, Bucky is smiling smugly, and working a second sock off his arm. 
“Bucky!” You yelp and duck under the counter as the rainbow sock flies in slow motion over your head. 
You probably shouldn’t poke the bear but-
“Y’know, for the best shot the United States army had ever seen you sure do miss a lot.” You taunt from your hiding spot.
When there's no response, you make a break for the couch and get shot squarely in the forehead.
“Say that again.” He dares with narrowed eyes.
“Okay, truce. Truce!” You raise your hands in surrender. 
“Say sorry for last night.” The pink ball of fluff in his hands, a deadly fate, and you’re consigned to concede
“I apologize for last night.” You sigh, approaching him with caution “Now, it’s been ten whole minutes and you still haven’t subjected me to your obscene morning breath.”
He beckons you with his head and you happily plod over, throwing your arms around his neck. The kiss is sweet, and full of promised mornings to come.
It’s welcomed by you. Until you feel the coldest thing known to man, his left arm, writhing under your shirt and sending immediate shivers down your back. 
“Bucky!” You screech and his strong laughter descends on your morning with malice.
Desperately wiggling out of his hold, you escape to the bedroom and yell from your stronghold:
“That was an act of war James Buchanan Barnes!”
2K notes · View notes
ervotica · 3 months
Note
maybe mean!rafe x crybaby!reader? he gets mad at her for not sitting down on the couch with him and he yells at her, dragging her by her wrist and forcing her to sit with him… only if you’re okay with it(I’ve never requested anything before)
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warnings; mean!rafe, dom/sub undertones, brat taming, crybaby!reader, barry is a shit stirrer but we love him for it <3
a/n; thanks for the request, angel! hope you enjoy🥰 (side note; may or may not be thinking abt being rafe & barry’s shared gf😍 they’re just too hot together jfc)
You get agitated in a sort of frenzied way that has always driven Rafe insane; you start to twitch, tapping heel clad feet and cracking knuckles until the sound of it has his jaw ticking in vexation.
You're rocking back and forth on your heels, red solo cup clutched between clammy palms; you can see Rafe in your peripheral vision, never letting him too far out of your line of sight in fear of being left to fend for yourself at one of these parties packed with drug-addled teenagers.
The smell of cheap, stale beer and sweat pervades your senses and you cringe, the blaring music paired with the way Rafe is staring you down- cerulean eyes piercing straight through you- forcing your brain into overdrive.
"Would you quit it and come sit down already?" Rafe snaps, thick digits outstretched as an offering for you to take; your lip spills into a pout, tightness pulling at every inch of your skin as the tension pools and gathers between your crumpled brows.
"I don't wanna," you whine, dragging out every syllable plaintively until he's standing, storming towards you with a thunderous expression carved into his features that you're not often on the receiving end of.
"I told you to fucking sit down! What the fuck is wrong with you, huh? Can't even do as you're told, can you?"
You feel the tears tickling at your waterline the second he raises his voice, your gaze snapping up to him as the first wave spills over your wide eyes.
"For God's sake, kid. Come sit down," he grouses. His tone softens when your expression crumples and he hooks a thick bicep around your neck, drawing you into the warm expanse of his chest. You're pulled along in short, shuffling steps until your bum hits the leather couch and Rafe's bruising grip digs into your calves to splay them haphazardly across his lap.
"You're mean," you sniff, backs of your fingers smearing across your teary eyes until they're caked in black. He pinches your thigh before delivering a firm swat to the afflicted area, his arms a vice around your squirming body as you try to free yourself.
“I told you to sit down and be fuckin’ quiet. Take a nap or something, cranky pants.” He rolls his eyes, fingers spreading across your jaw to settle your head in the hollow of his shoulder.
You grumble something indecipherable before he feels you go slack on top of him, lashes fluttering as you fight the fog of fatigue that invades every inch of your skull. He smears a kiss along the curve of your forehead.
“Y’alright, Princess?” Barry queries, only amused by Rafe’s sudden glaring of daggers at the shorter man. “Country club bein’ mean, huh?”
“She’s fine,” Rafe snips as you stir and start to whine once again. “Just bein’ a brat. Needs a rest ‘s all.”
“Rafe.”
“I swear to fuckin’ God, kid. You be quiet or I will spank you raw in front of all these people.”
You sigh and curl up and into his embrace, exhaustion settling heavy in your bones once he cages you into his chest with a firm squeeze.
“Good girl.”
3K notes · View notes
murdrdocs · 2 months
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FOOLISH LOVERS. luke castellan
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description. luke castellan has betrayed camp half blood. luke castellan has made an enemy out of those around you. and unfortunately, luke castellan has always held a place in your heart that you can't close off. at least, not until you meet with him one final time.
includes. SMUT 18+, fem!reader, daughter of hypnos reader, oral (f and m receiving), brief anal rimming (f receiving), implied p n v, dreamscape sex again, angst galore, some arguing, references to pjo ep 8. inspo from wicked game by chris isaak
wc: 5.8k+
a/n: a dreamcatcher: daughter of the god of dreams installment.
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Before you can realize the change, you’re standing on a hill. 
It takes you a second to notice, but the area is much like your dreamscape. Low, waving blades of grass that travel through the air with the wind brushing against your bare ankles. The ocean is loud and to your right, down beneath a steep cliff. From just a quick glance, you see a storm brewing off into the distance. The water swirls angrily as if it’s ready to disrupt anything that dares to come into its path. 
You can’t help but think about the betrayed son of the sea god back in reality who surely feels the same. 
When you take your eyes away from the entrancing scenery of the ocean, you notice a cabin directly in front of you. It’s small, and made from long wooden logs, although there isn’t a forest nearby to identify the source of the frame. The exterior is slightly shabby, appearing manmade with a few imperfections. 
It’s not on a comparable scale to the cabins back at Camp Half-Blood, but something about it feels cozy. It gives implications of a simpler life. Maybe what summer camp could have been if you weren’t the offspring of a god. 
That and the clouds rumbling with warnings of an approaching storm is what encourages you to seek refuge in the four walls. 
Step by step, you don’t fail to notice how a focus subject has yet to appear. 
Your hand wraps around the doorknob and you push the slab of wood open as you wonder who’s dream you could have been pulled into tonight. 
You haven’t even stepped foot over the threshold, you have started to convince yourself that this is the dream of the son of the sea god, and then someone speaks. 
“Hey.” 
You stop. 
Your foot hovers for a second before you place it back beside the other. 
That voice. You hadn’t heard it for months now, but you know it. Day after day, you lay at night with your eyes closed, cementing the memory of the way he spoke and how he sounded as he laughed at your jokes into your mind. Forcing yourself to recall the inflections in his tone as he teased you, and how his words flattened out and got hard when he gave orders to yourself and others. And then, completely involuntarily, you would force yourself to pick through every single intonation and word that you could remember, attempting to find signs. Any hints or clues that Luke Castellan wasn’t the person he made himself out to be. 
Each night, you grapple with the fact that you couldn’t find any clues. You tried to reconcile with your blindness, all while telling yourself that you could have attempted to prevent it all. 
But hearing his voice now, none of that returns. Unexpectedly, your body floods with warmth. 
Luke sits on a small loveseat. The shape of it is a bit of a blur at first, but you blink and it cleans up to present a busy patterned textile couch. It’s well loved, there are a few tears in the bottom of the fabric at the back, and if you’re smelling it correctly, there’s a slight waft of cigarette smoke. 
Strangely enough, it’s inviting. 
You hate to admit it to yourself, but the boy sitting at one end of it makes it even more inviting. 
You step into the cabin and close the door behind you. 
“Hey, Luke.” 
He turns around to face you at the sound of your voice. You sound stronger than you expected. More casual, too. 
You realize that he’d been looking out a large set of windows before facing you. There’s only two but they take up most of the small wall. Outside is a perfect view of the land you’d just come from; bright green grass in the foreground and deep blue salt water off into the distance. 
Luke stares at you. 
The cabin is a little dark—there’s a lamp in the far corner that illuminates the room, washing out the otherwise blue light from outside—but you think his eyes are shining. As if there’s unshed tears barely held within them.
He smiles at you. It’s soft and almost mournful. 
You should leave. 
You shouldn’t be fraternizing with Luke at all, even if it is within a dreamscape. You couldn’t trust yourself in a room with him, especially with the things the two of you used to do when you were in dreamscapes alone. 
Just looking at him reminds you of all of those times. Sweat sticking his hair to his forehead. The feeling of his muscles beneath your inquisitive hands. The deep and smooth sound of his voice. The way everything felt so real and so tangible as he rocked into you, and then as euphoria swept over your bodies you felt so infinite and surreal. 
Your teeth find your lower lip. Your body urges you to get closer to Luke. Stubbornly, you stay in your spot. 
“What d’you think?” He lifts a finger and circles it around in the air. Your eyes lift and you finally take in the rest of the cabin. 
The main room is spacious, but comfortable. Lightly furnished with hardwood floors. Though almost every surface is covered in some sort of rug, most of them persian. There’s a small kitchen to your left, and then the living area that Luke sits in on the right. There’s a few bookshelves but there aren’t many books on them, and there’s a fireplace that looks to have never been used before. A few picture frames sit on the mantle of the fireplace, but from afar they just appear to be showcasing blobs of people without any distinctive features to identify an identity. 
Admittedly, for this to be the created dreamscape of the son of a messenger, it’s impressive. 
You tell him as such. 
This time, Luke’s smile is appreciative. 
“Means a lot coming from you. Especially with the things you can create.” 
Your skin heats up and you block the memories out of your head before they can firmly cement themselves once more. 
“You might have me beat, Castellan. Giving me a run for my money.” 
You don’t know why you decide to fall into the old routine with him. Maybe it’s because you can’t push Luke away for the life of you. He was once your friend and so much more at the same time. It’s impossible for you to completely forget the times you shared together. 
Maybe it’s the home making you feel this way. 
How comfortable it feels. How protective it is. 
You’ve spent weeks pulled into unfortunate dreams. Nightmares have plagued even the toughest minds of Camp Half Blood as of late, and you’ve been unable to fortify your own mind enough to prevent slipping into the mind of others. Which has left you to fight against unbeatable monsters, fortify the barriers of Camp only to have them knocked down by Zeus over and over again, watch those you love die in horrible battles, and much much more. 
In comparison, there is the possibility of a simple conversation with Luke Castellan giving you what you’d been desperately missing even if you wouldn’t admit it to yourself: Luke’s company. 
It’s how you reason with yourself whenever you take a seat atop the cushion of the couch. Instantly, it feels as if you’ve never truly known comfort before. This couch conforms to the curves of your body. You lean back against it, pull your feet up with you, and you quickly decide to stay a little while longer. 
Up close, Luke looks even prettier than you remember. Dark curly hair a little more grown out, unruly and hanging over his forehead like low hanging fruit, begging for you to latch onto it. His face looks a little slimmer as if he’s lost weight, and the angular planes of his cheekbones and jawline accentuates the dark shadow he has along his chin. The mark of facial hair that was previously present. Beneath his clothes—a faded black, almost gray hoodie, and black sweatpants—he appears larger. His shoulders wider, his neck thicker, his wrist and hands veiner. 
(Compared to his covered body, you feel bare in nothing but long socks, and a matching shorts and tank top set.)
He looks virtually the same, but his aura is different. There’s more confidence in him, a larger ego, glory even, that wasn’t there the last time you’d seen him. You know what has caused the change, and it should be something you despise. But his new glory makes him more attractive. It dries out your tongue and lodges something in your throat, pushing it further down until it sits heavy in your stomach. 
“Thought this could be our new spot.” Luke speaks softly, almost in a scared whisper, as if he fears that you’ll reject him. 
(You don’t know if you could ever reject Luke)
Your eyebrows furrow. “Our spot?” Confusion drips off of your words. 
Luke nods once. He licks over his lips and you’re quick to peel your eyes away from the sight and back to his eyes. That’s not helping you much either so you instead try to figure out what books are on the shelves afar. 
Since the little amount of time that has passed, there have been a few more added. From the ones that have already been there, the titles are too far away, too dream disoriented, and your dyslexia hasn’t escaped this dream, but you think you find novels on Seeing. Guides on how to decipher the visions that come to humans, or how to channel them. 
You focus back on Luke. 
“Yeah. Like the old bedroom. But a little more …” he hesitates to find the word then lands on, “Casual.” 
The bedroom. 
Your lower stomach stirs at the mention of it. The large bed, how warm it always was in there, the cold leather of the couch, the things the two of you did to each other on all surfaces. 
This spot is definitely a lot more casual. You’re not instantly compelled to straddle Luke here, although you do have a few thoughts about throwing your legs over his right now and reconnecting in ways you’ve missed since he left. 
So badly do you want to agree. This could be the one place where you get to experience what you’ve been missing without anyone else knowing. This is the only place where you can see Luke without anyone else knowing. 
But it’s wrong. 
He’s the cause of all of this. He’s caused the nightmares you’ve been pulled into. He has betrayed everyone on levels you could have never imagined. And who’s to say that he won’t betray you again. 
“We won’t need a ‘spot’, Luke.” Briefly, his eyes flash as if he’s hurt but in your eyes, Luke has proven himself to be a formidable actor as of late so you ignore it. “This is a one time thing.” 
A moment passes. And then another. 
You turn to watch the sea out in the distance. It appears as if the ocean has lulled for the time being. The sky is still dark, but it has yet to deepen in color. 
Luke takes a breath and you give him your attention again. 
“Why won’t you join me?” 
His eyes flash betrayal, his lips twist into something sorrowful. 
Your answer comes easy. The same one you’ve told yourself over and over again, night by night when you considered reaching out to him. 
“Because it’s not right, Luke.”
When he stands, his newfound power becomes even more clear. It leaks from his pores, spews from his mouth with his words. 
“How could it be ‘wrong’ when you feel the same. All that time you spent telling me about your father. How neglected you felt. What happened to that?” 
Your head shakes. You stand, too, evening out the field for both of you. 
“This is not what I meant. I–” The words don’t find you. Luke takes notice. 
“You what? Love your father? Love the gods? After how they treat you. How they treat us.” 
“Don’t say ‘us’. We aren’t together, Luke.” 
That same look flashes in his eyes once more. He takes a step forward, you take one back. 
He doesn’t say anything. You watch his hand reach behind his back. 
“What, are you gonna fight me like you did with Percy?” 
His head shakes. His eyes harden. He pulls his hand back and it comes up empty. 
“He attacked first.” 
Your voice starts to rise. “And you tried to kill him, Luke. He’s twelve. What don’t you understand about that? ” 
“Twelve and a forbidden child. In the grand scheme of things, his age doesn’t matter. He’s powerful. More powerful than both of us combined.” 
“So is that why you tried to kill him? Because he’s a threat?” 
“I don’t want to have this conversation with you. Not here. Not now.” 
“Yeah? Well then when? And where? Because this is the last time you’ll be seeing me, Luke.” 
“Okay.” 
Your eyebrows raise. Disbelief paints over your features. You’d expected more of a fight. For Luke to disagree or attempt to convince you to return to him a few more times after this. Maybe that’s what you wanted. Maybe you wanted him to convince you that you needed him. Maybe you wanted to hear him tell you that he needed you. 
Either way, your reply is the same as his. 
“Okay.” You turn and take the few steps it takes to get to the door. 
Your chest heaves with large gulps of air in and small breaths of letting them out. Your body is buzzing, the same feeling you would get before sparring with Luke. The same feeling you would get before your bodies joined together. 
You tell yourself to reach out for the door handle. You tell yourself to lift your arm, connect your hand with the metal, and pull it open. You tell yourself to return to your own dreamscape, maybe even reality, and forget any of this ever happened. 
Maybe you would’ve done it if Luke hadn’t spoken. 
“You can walk out that door but that won’t change how you truly feel.” 
He doesn’t add on. You don’t move. 
“And how do I feel?” 
The adrenaline is overwhelming you. You need to expel it out of your body somehow. 
As Luke is speaking, you’re already approaching him. 
“I’m sure I don’t need to answer that for you.”
When he speaks, it’s with arrogance. His confidence is heavily laced in his words, overflowing until it drips out into the air and lodges in your chest. Running through your body and down to your fingertips. It annoys you, makes you want to battle it out with him in a fight you’re sure to lose. 
Your feet thud against the floor with each step until you’re close enough to cup his cheeks in both of your hands and pull his face down to yours. 
There’s no hesitation in the kiss from either side. As if both of you were expecting it to happen eventually. 
Luke kisses you back vehemently, his lips messily sliding against yours as he presses into the center of your back, accentuating the curve and drawing your chest into his. His free hand glides down your side to your hips. He circles to your back, dragging his palm down to rest over the curve of your ass. He grips the flesh through the soft fabric of your shorts, digging his blunt nails in before continuing his hand—open palmed—down to grip the back of your thigh. 
His other hand mirrors his previous actions until he has a hand on either thigh. He tugs once, and you collaborate to wrap your legs around his waist and hook your ankles behind his back. Your hands dig into his hair, and your core tightens as you prepare to continue holding yourself up. But Luke takes most of the load. 
He places his hands on your bottom to keep you lifted. You expect him to walk you back to the couch, or maybe pin you to a wall. But he doesn’t. 
He holds you against him in the center of the living room, kissing you like he’ll never get to kiss you again. You don’t fail to realize how he likely won’t. 
His tongue slides against yours, your teeth knock together at least twice, both of you refuse to pull away to breathe which results in heavy exhales through your noses against the skin of the other cheek. 
While it may be uncoordinated, it’s not primal. 
There’s copious amounts of longing beneath each pass of your tongues against each other. There’s human emotion behind the way you tug on his hair and how he uses one hand to pull your hips closer to him. There’s raw longing in the soft sighs and gasps you both let out into the other’s mouth, taking it in and replicating the noises over and over again. 
When you finally do part, it’s with a wet, pronounced smack. 
“Luke,” you gasp his name before you can realize it’s happening. One of your hands moves from his hair to hold his cheek. Your fingers spread around his ear and your thumb probes into his jaw. 
He hums, his eyes still shut. 
“I want you,” you admit. 
You watch the smile spread across his lips, his eyes flickering open to look into your soul. 
“Took you long enough to admit it.” 
You suck your teeth and roll your eyes. Your other hand, previously resting on his shoulder, slaps his bicep. 
“Don’t be an asshole about it.” 
He laughs as he apologizes, knocking his forehead against yours. “Sorry, pretty girl.” 
He takes a moment.
When he speaks, his eyes are nothing but earnest. His words are slow and careful, despite how simple they are. They fill your chest with warmth. They comfort you, possibly in slight delusion as you instantly believe him without caring about what repercussions his promise could come with. 
“You have me. Always have. Always will.” 
You’re quick to surge forward. 
Luke is quick to reciprocate. 
This time, he walks you back to the couch. He settles you on it carefully, not lifting his hands from your bottom until you’re seated securely along the loveseat and pulled to the edge by his hands hooked under your knees. 
His own knees dig into the rug beneath the furniture. His head is tipped up to continue kissing you, this one lacking the over enthusiasm from before. Now, he takes his time, having confessed his desire to be with you as long as you’ll let him. 
It’s not long until he pulls away and trails his lips down, kissing along your decollete, not stopping when he comes in contact with the fabric of your small shirt. He presses his lips into the fabric firmly, as if he’s trying to reach your skin beneath the layer.
You feel the pressure he has beneath each kiss as he trails down, and you arch into his touch, excitement spreading through your lower half whenever Luke digs his fingers into the elastic of your shorts and pulls them off of your legs before he even reaches there. 
You’re quick to leave your legs open, even going as far as to spread them a little more to give Luke more room. 
His wide shoulders fill the space. They nudge against your knees and instead of letting you spread your legs even more, he throws them over his shoulders, effectively caging himself in with your limbs. 
If the small smile on his face is anything to go by, he’s happy about his position. 
You’re still wearing your panties. Your hands trail down to get rid of them, but Luke stops you with a hand on your lower abdomen. 
“Let me,” he tells you, voice soft and light. 
You remove your hands and do as told. It’s a simple system you have worked out, Luke slowly but surely working his way down to where you want him. He's eager, and you know he wants himself there as much as you do. 
It’s strange what desire could make you do. 
You’ve never been anything but loyal to Camp Half-Blood. To both of your parents. And in normal circumstances, you wouldn’t allow yourself to do this.
 But you’ll simply have a final time with Luke. That’s it. Sharing your body with him, and having his body shared with you, won’t make you forget his transgressions. 
As your panties are pulled off of your legs, and your skin is once again placed above the thick fabric on the shoulders of his sweatshirt, you tell yourself that this won’t change anything. 
You’ll never be able to forget what he has done. What he’s planning to do. 
Except, perhaps, you can push it aside for as long as you’ll have to while you let yourself get lost in his touch. 
The first pass of his tongue is a long stripe between your folds. He spreads you open with his thumbs, pulling at the skin on either side to expose your center. Then he flattens his tongue and licks up from your entrance to your clit. 
He puckers his lips, sucking twice before flicking his tongue against the bud. 
Your hands card through his hair, ignoring the way your fingers get stuck on a few stubborn curls that refuse to separate in favor of grounding yourself. It feels too good, and you haven’t been in this position for too long. There’s nothing you fear more right now than getting too lost and waking up in the real world before you’re even satisfied. 
Luke brings his attention back down to your entrance where he laps up what you’ve been leaking. He groans, peeling his mouth away and you stare down at him, entranced by how grateful he looks. 
Eyes closed, face completely relaxed, his scar laid flat against his cheek, his pink lips parted and glistening. 
He looks ethereal. The sight is addicting. 
“Missed this so much,” he admits, tongue flickering out to lick the remnants of your arousal off of his lips. 
You feel the same, but you refuse to tell him that. Instead, you scrape your nails at his scalp lightly and shuffle your hips, hoping that alone is enough to capture Luke’s attention again. 
Either he catches the memo or he had the same idea as you because his lips are right back between your legs.
You’d expected him to behave like a man starved, licking and sucking your cunt like you would disappear any moment. Instead, he takes his time with you. He utilizes the best part about being in a dreamscape: the lack of concrete time. 
He savors the taste of your cunt, and the little sounds you make. His fingers press into the tops of your thighs as he holds them down against his shoulders to prevent you from squirming. His nose nudges against your clit and digs into the short hair you have on your mound. 
He presses his tongue everywhere that he can, sometimes even sliding further down to rim areas still unexplored. Each time, you would tense up just a little less, until eventually you were trying to subtly urge his head further down for him to do it just one more time. 
And when he does, that’s when the coil in your lower belly gets as tight as it could get, just before snapping from the tension. You would have warned him. Or, maybe you did. You were so focused on getting there that any words that came out of your mouth weren’t even considered. You weren’t aware of anything other than your mouth moving at the same speed as your hips as you dragged your cunt against Luke’s face, using him to guide your orgasm to full completion. 
As soon as your hips stop twitching you swing your legs off of his shoulders and slide to the floor beside him. You pull your shirt off, then do the same for Luke, throwing both of your tops off to the side. 
Unsurprisingly, he’s not wearing another layer beneath the sweatshirt, allowing you to run your palms down his chest, feeling the familiar definition along his abdomen. 
You sit in front of him with your legs folded underneath you, and since he’s on his haunches, he towers over you just a bit. You have to tilt your head up to kiss at his jaw and neck, your hands busying themselves with urging his sweatpants off of his hips. 
Luke does the rest of the job for you, hesitantly pulling away from your touch to stand and slide his sweatpants off of his legs himself. You’re left on the ground, hands politely resting in your lap while you stare up at Luke with wide eyes. 
He slowly reveals more and more of his legs until he’s wearing nothing but his briefs. They hug him well, like they always have. A prominent outline of the muscle definition in his thighs, elastic waistband hanging low enough on his hips for you to see the ‘V’ that connects his hips and abdomen. And of course, the tight material reveals the prominent boner confined within the crotch of his briefs. 
You want to reach up and palm him. You want to pull the final layer off of him. You want to take his cock into your mouth and relax with the heavy and warm feeling of him against your tongue. 
But you decide to be patient. And it’s worth it. 
Luke slides his briefs off himself, never breaking eye contact with you as he throws them to join the rest of your clothing. His stare is strong and heavy as he spits into his hand and puts his dick into the same place, wrapping his palm around the center of it and stroking a few times. 
There’s the prettiest, most picturesque bead of precum at the tip and you’re practically salivating just looking at it, praying deep down that Luke doesn’t run his hand over it so you can have it for yourself. 
As if sensing your inner turmoil, Luke takes a step closer, holding the base of his cock right in front of your face, allowing you to get the perfect view of how his tip is a light pink around the almost clear drop of precum. 
“You want?” he asks you simply, smiling a bit when you nod eagerly. “Then open.” 
You’re quick to do as told, lacking any shame whenever you open your mouth and stick your tongue out. As soon as Luke presses his tip to your muscle, you wrap your lips around him and eagerly suck him clean. 
Another good thing about the dreamscape is that everything either tastes like absolutely nothing, or like pure honey. And when you’re with Luke, things are usually the latter. 
You start to get lost in it, enthusiastically beginning to suck Luke off even though you were only meant to be getting a taste. 
You can see that Luke is close to commenting on it. His eyes shine like they do before he has something to say, but just when his lips part and he takes a breath to speak, you hollow your cheeks and sink as far down him as you can and any words he could have conjured up are suddenly gone. 
He lets you do what you want, eyes fluttering shut and one large hand cupping the back of your head as you continue to suck him off. He lets out the smallest noises, pretty grunts and groans and sighs. 
Luke was clearly just as wound up as you were. Within a couple of minutes he’s already starting to spew out praises like he does when he’s close. Some of them are fragments, broken words strung together in incomplete sentences. 
“So … doing so .. you’re–” when you swirl your tongue at the tip and tease his balls just a bit. 
“Gods, you’re so good at this,” when you jerk the majority of his dick with one hand and focus your mouth on his tip with the other. 
“Close. So close. Almost there, dove” when you take all of him into your mouth once more, throat molding around the definite shape of him. 
And when he cums down your throat, you’re so satisfied that you can’t help but moan unabashedly along with him. 
You’ve only just swallowed his cum before his cock is pulled out of your mouth and he’s back on his knees in front of you. 
His arms wrap around your waist, he pulls you into his lap, laying his head on your chest and just letting himself be. 
Just existing. 
After a couple of minutes, you stop expecting him to speak and decide to just exist too. Your breathing eventually matches up, in and out, in and out, over and over again in tandem. Outside, rain starts to thud against the roof of the small home. Distantly, there’s the faint sound of thunder, and you’re sure the ocean is swirling angrily. 
None of that matters, though. You’ll be left to decipher the metaphorical meanings of it all later, when you aren’t coexisting in the shared warmth from you and Luke. 
When he isn’t kissing the tops of your breasts and holding you securely in his arms. 
Eventually, Luke does break the silence. His voice is low when he does, both in volume and tone. 
“Can I have you? Just one final time?” 
He talks into your skin without looking directly at you. But as you start to respond, you cup his cheeks and force him to look at you. 
The entire time, you’ve been fighting this battle. Knowing you wanted Luke, knowing you wanted to be with Luke, but also knowing it was wrong. All of it was wrong. 
But right here, right now, you let go. You nod unashamedly. You kiss his forehead then the tip of his nose then his lips, before landing on the bottom end of his scar. 
You tell him, “Yes. Of course, Luke”, as if he didn’t even have to ask in the first place. 
And truthfully, you don’t think he did. 
“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.” 
Luke is in the middle of pulling his sweatshirt back over his head when you speak. There’s a second where the fabric is hiding his face, slowly revealing the curls at the top of his head, then his dark eyebrows, and finally his eyes. They look as they have the entire time: despondent. 
“I know you didn’t. Neither did I.” You have a feeling that neither of you are speaking about the same specific thing, but the overlap in your conditions is so wide that you don’t bother correcting him. 
He reaches behind his back once more and when he pulls his hand back around, he has his camp necklace dangling from his fingers. He undoes the knot, and holds it open, waiting, until finally you turn around and let him delicately tie it around your neck. 
Your hand touches the beads. You want to thank him, but it doesn’t feel right. 
Instead, your lips twist into what you hope comes off as a thankful smile when you turn around. When Luke replicates it, you feel a little better. 
There’s a moment, just a brief moment there where you’re both staring at each other and the memory of Luke’s hands and lips and tongue and his everything engrossing you, taking your everything and combining them together, is still fresh on your mind. The warmth of his eyes and the warmth of his camp necklace around your throat heals you. And you consider that your feelings for Luke were stronger than you ever forced yourself to acknowledge. 
He was more than a close friend to you. More than someone you looked up to. More than someone you shared your body with in the dreamscape. 
He was more. 
It feels unfair for you to have these emotions. The wrongness of it all—your feelings for Luke Castellan, how he’d turned out—has rage fueling deep in your gut. With no one else to blame it on, you can’t help but briefly curse the gods. 
For they were the ones to cause this. To instill deep hatred into Luke’s chest. To prevent either of you from ever having a normal life where you could live and breathe and love without the burdens placed upon you both. 
A life where you wouldn’t have to love and lose someone like Luke. 
But there’s nothing for you to do about it now. 
You don’t want to leave. But your time together is up. You should’ve left a long time ago, and your choice to stay before resulted in something you could never take back. 
You turn and walk to the door. And once more, Luke speaking causes you to stop. 
“You are the only one who could make me change my mind.” He says it in a small whisper, as if he doesn’t want to admit it even to himself. As if he shouldn’t be admitting it at all.
‘Are’. His feelings for you still haven’t changed. You don’t know if they ever will. 
Either way, you’re forced to change yours.  
You don’t know what to say. So you don’t say anything. Your hand reaches for the doorknob. You take it in your palm, gripping and turning at the same time until the latch is undone. 
The door opens and fills the room with the sound of rain falling. It’s loud and fills the empty space. Up until Luke speaks and the baritone of his voice joins it. 
“This is it?” 
You nod once. Luke’s scoff sounds painful. It’s bitter with an edge of hatred. Maybe disbelief. 
It makes tears brim at your eyes. Your nose stings. Your throat feels as if it’s constricting with the effort to hold your tears back. 
Luke takes a breath. You step one foot out of the door. 
“Dreamcatcher,” he calls to get your attention, the nickname giving you that fuzzy feeling you used to get from just seeing him around camp. “We’ll be seeing each other again.” 
And then your foot lands on the dry green grass of your own dreamscape. 
Just a few hours later, you rise with the morning sun, sneaking off to the showers before everyone else to get rid of the stickiness between your thighs. 
The dream might not have been real, but the evidence between your legs certainly was. Strangely enough, that and the additional chord of beads around your neck. You only notice it when you’ve undressed and stepped beneath the shower head, scrubbing at your skin and running into additional jewelry you hadn’t expected to have been there. 
You take it off and slip it with the rest of your clothes as a keepsake, carrying it around in your pocket for only you to know about.
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yoyokalicent · 2 months
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something they all want, that only you can have.
pairing: felix catton x fem!reader
summary: felix had something oliver wanted, something he could only have. you.
warning(s): smut, pinv, oliver being a peeping freak.
。°✩⋆。°。°✩⋆。°。°✩⋆。°。°✩⋆。°。°✩⋆。°。°✩⋆。°。°✩⋆。°。°✩⋆。°。°✩⋆。°。°✩⋆
"such a pretty girl, such a good girl." felix mumbles, pressing his lips to the sides of your ears, making sure you hear just how good you were for him.
"felix-" your broken words cut through the air, breathless as he pounds himself into you, not giving you a chance to regain your breath.
his hands are everywhere, everywhere.
they were in your hair, on your tits, "my girls. so pretty f'me."
he tried to keep quiet, he truly did, not wanting to disrupt the quiet tea time that his family had organized. but, with you so tightly wrapped around him he couldn't.
felix's hands leave your breasts to wrap his hands around one of your ankles, bringing it over his shoulder in a way to bring you closer to himself. kissing over the diamond studded anklet with your initial hanging off of it.
"fi!" you whine out at the new angle, suddenly not being able to take him in such an intense way. your head lulls to the side, looking for the relief you chase.
with your head hanging to the side, your eyes train on the slightly opened bathroom door, the door that opens to the bathroom you and felix share with oliver.
oliver.
the friend felix invited to saltburn, much to your protest. the friend whose eyes had not left yours since you were introduced to him at the pub.
your eyes widen as they connect with olivers, only looking away when felix grabs your chin to bring your eyes back on him, "what is it, love? too much?"
you choke onto your sob before getting it out, "oliver!"
"huh?" felix stops his thrusts to follow your eyes, and sees oliver through the sliver of door that was slighter ajar, "what the fuck, mate?"
felix is up from your bed quickly, sliding his boxers on before moving to confront oliver, "felix, i was just-"
"you were just what? watching me and my girl? yeah no. leave." felix cuts him off, not looking to hear anymore of what he has to say, "go!"
"go where?" oliver asks, as if he's lost and has no where else to go.
"wherever the fuck you came from." felix is seething, you can tell, slamming the door in his face, running a hand over his face and back into his hair. standing in front of the bathroom door, contemplating whether or not he should follow oliver and beat the absolute shit out of him.
his hand is on the knob but when he hears your little cries, he immediately forgets the idea.
"hey, hey, hey." he whispers, walking across the floor of the bedroom to make it back to you, "it's okay he's gone now."
your then naked body is now covered in the covers that you once found comfort in now, you feel absolutely disgusting. the tears don't stop flowing until felix's strong arms are enveloping you in a strong hold, "i know, but, he saw me fi, he saw me."
your hands shake, trying to find some calm in the storm of whatever the fuck happened. his arms let go of you to speak to you, and his heart absolutely breaks seeing the saddened look on your face.
"i know love, i never should've brought him here." his lips kiss the top of your forehead trying to apologize for allowing oliver to see you in such a vulnerable state.
"it isn't your fault fi- i should've told you. i should've told you how he was looking at me," your pointer finger frantically points at the both of you, "at us."
felix let's out a breath as your wet eyes look back up at him, "this is not your fault, i should've noticed. i should have seen the way he was looking at you. i'm so sorry. i'm so sorry."
"s'okay, fi. he just made me feel so gross."
god, felix hates this, the way someone he brought into saltburn made you feel this way, "you aren't gross, love. not in the slightest. oliver is disgusting for that, for all of this."
his arms bring you close to him, your head resting on his warm chest, bringing you the only comfort you seek, "i love you, fi."
"i love you, s'much. he's gone." he whispers back, holding you just a little tighter, not wanting to let you go.
the silence lingers for a bit, allowing two lovers to sit in the comfort of each other until, "so, there's no chance of us finishing...?"
2K notes · View notes
perlelune · 23 days
Text
Young God | Feyd-Rautha
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The mercy you show towards an enemy in the aftermath of battle yields tragic consequences for you and your people.
Warnings: NON-CON, Fremen!Reader, Kynes!Reader, Kidnapping, Unrequited Love, Mentions of cannibalism, Knife Play, Masochism
This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.
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The aftermath of battle is often the same ritual. Corpses are taken away to scavenge for bounty and salvage the water in their bodies. Moisture is too precious, too rare in the air and the dry desert sand covering your home world to be wasted. Harkonnen foot soldiers especially. No sympathy is spared for the cruel beasts who slaughter your fellow fremen, ravage your land, and bleed your beloved home planet Arrakis of its most valuable resource. The Spice. 
Today is one of these days. After fending off another attack by the Harkonnen army, your entire tribe is sifting through the desert fields. The proud white-skinned soldiers weren’t expecting the swarm of Fremen that unleashed upon them. Thankfully Muad'Dib had a vision of the attack and managed to convince enough of your people to raise their blades in unison to stand against their oppressors. While you balk at violence, preferring to stay back and sink into your role as a healer, you still wish to offer assistance in cleaning up the battlefield and checking for any potential injuries. You were a little shocked when you arrived and were struck with the realization that there is so little for you to do, the number advantage having been so overwhelming.
Still, you find a few warriors that require medical attention. Their injuries are deeper than you expect. Apparently one of the Harkonnen soldiers wouldn’t let himself be slain, unleashing a storm of fury all on his own and taking several down with him. You gingerly finish dressing your last wound, lifting your head as you notice your cousin heading north. 
Wiping the blood on your hands with a rag, you get to your feet.
“Chani, where are you going?” you inquire.
She stares ahead, crysknife in hand, determined.
“Some may have survived and slipped away from us. We’re checking the caves nearby.”
You give a nod and follow after her. “I’ll come with you.”
While your voice didn’t waver earlier, your stomach is in knots as you join the search. You and Chani split up. She points in a direction and you acquiesce, rushing the opposite way. You sneak underground, climbing down a row of steep, slippery rocks before you find a small cave.
You practically have to crawl the rest of the way inside, the lichen-draped overhang almost too bent and crooked for you to advance any further. It’s no wonder no one thought to check this place. It’s hard to imagine any wounded Harkonnen soldier gathering the strength to hide in such a place.
You’re forced to swallow your words however when you find the outline of a pale form lying across the cave floor. 
Your jaw drops. You inch closer to the corpse, already planning on calling another Fremen to help you extract the water from the body.
But the man’s chest lifts, his mouth shuddering ever-so-slightly.
Tamping down your fear, you hunker down and inspect his armor. Your brows knit. A long, deep jagged cut slashes his side. The kind of deadly injury that makes you wonder how the man is still breathing, as it’s impossible no internal organs haven't at least been nicked. 
Yet, somehow he is, still breathing that is.
Though you gather not for long based on the way blood gushes from the wound. 
You hear your name called from outside the cave. Pulse soaring, you climb your way out of the concealed shelter with haste. 
You’re faced with Chani’s questioning stare. She must be done with her own search. You note the tinge of crimson on the tip of her blade. Your insides wrench. 
The lie flows from your tongue with frightening ease.
“I already checked that one. It’s empty.”
She nods and walks away. You wait for her to be at a safe distance to return inside the cave.
As your slow, fearful steps bring you closer to the wounded man, your mind rages, at war with itself.
You are of two worlds. Daughter of the fallen Liet-Kynes, imperial planetologist, and a member of the Sietch Tabr. The Harkonnen are your people’s ancestral enemies. Oppressors who annihilate whoever stands between them and their unquenchable thirst for more wealth and power.
They are monsters. There is only one rational thing to do when one is faced with one of the pale-skinned warriors. Only one thing that is right to do.
You unsheathe the crysknife at your thigh from its scabbard. The blade is shimmery and new. So perfectly sharp. For you have never used it. Not even once.
You approach his unmoving form and lift the blade high in the air.
The crysknife in your hands quivers above his chest. It’d be so easy to end it. So quick. Over within a few minutes. You’ve seen countless members of your sietch do it, not a sliver of hesitation in their smooth, practiced motions. Some even enjoy it, reveling in seeing that spark wither in their enemies’ eyes. 
For a moment, you let yourself wonder, picture yourself snugly gripping the blade and driving it through the Harkonnen’s alabaster throat. The watery coughs he’d let out. The blood seeping from his neck and pooling around him. The light in his onyx orbs flickering before going out.
It should satisfy you. After all the evils they’ve inflicted upon your people, upon your planet, the prospect of retribution should fill you with immeasurable joy. 
Yet it doesn’t. Chest heaving, you slowly lower the weapon until it slips out of your hands, its clattering echoing in the cave.
Your shoulders sag as you unleash a tremulous breath, one you didn’t notice was even caged inside your lungs.
An unyielding truth swaddles you as you watch your pale-skinned enemy draw feeble, dwindling breaths. You can’t take a life. You are a healer, through and through.
You gasp when you suddenly feel the cold bite of metal against your throat.
Your eyes widen. The Harkonnen is awake, heavy, wheezing breaths bursting from his chest as he presses the blade against your neck.
“I-If you kill me, you will not survive,” you stammer, your chest clenching in fear. 
He shocks you by flipping the blade and handing it to you.
“Then give me a warrior’s death,” he says, his gaze unwavering. You study him. He looks worse than before. What he just did must have taken his last bit of strength. 
Steadying your hammering heart, you glower at him.
“The glory you seek isn’t in a dank cave, Harkonnen.”
As soon as he collapses over the cold, hard stones, you get to work. First, you check his pulse. Though it’s faint, you find a steady heartbeat. He must be quite strong, you surmise. You’ve never seen anyone survive this long with an injury this deep. Logically, he should be dead. 
But he isn’t. So while you shouldn’t feel this way, every fiber of your being craves to pull him from the brink. 
You peel the layers of his armor off him. Heat nestles inside your cheeks as your gaze roams over the hard, defined planes of his muscular form. You shake off the sensation, reminding yourself that you can’t proceed unless you have complete access to the wound and need to assess for other potential injuries.
You reach for your medpak and pouch. You use a mix of wound sealant and medicinal herbs to curb the bleeding. You then clean the wound with antiseptic and press onto it firmly. Eventually, it stops. Once the bleeding is under control, you pull out a needle and thread from your pouch and begin sewing the wound. Every stitch is nice and neat, so tight that you know he will barely scar. You squint as you work, the dim lighting of the cave making you miss the right spot in his skin a few times. You keep a cool head the entire time, simply starting over whenever necessary.
After the wound is sealed, you set up a hypovial with a plasma bag. Finding the bulging vein in his arm isn’t too hard. It’s quite easy in fact, as every part of him appears carved from stone. You slip a dash of spice melange in the IV. A potent cinnamon smell fills the air. Just the right amount to keep him awake. Now that his life isn’t on the line anymore, his peculiar body chemistry should do the rest and recover.
You unleash a deep breath and wipe the sweat doting your forehead. You sag against the cave wall.
Your eyes drift to the night sky, visible through a small opening in the overhang.
For the first time since you snuck inside the cave, the tension woven through your limbs comes loose.
Nights on Arrakis are a thing of beauty. You are willing to bet there are no more beautiful skies in the entire galaxy. None so clear and vast and with stars twinkling this bright. Mother used to say the same thing, that the boundless empyreans of Arrakis were the most beautiful sight she ever laid eyes upon. And as an imperial envoy, your mother traveled far across the known universe. So she must have been right.
You cast one last glance at the Harkonnen warrior. He’s stable. Or stable enough at least. 
It’s time for you to return to your sietch before too many questions are asked.
“You were gone a while,” your cousin blurts out when you return to your sietch. You weigh her tone. There is no suspicion laced in it, just curiosity.
“I was just making sure we didn’t forget any of them,” you casually reply.
Chani heaves out a deep sigh. “You don’t have to. You have no heart for killing, cousin.” She turns her focus to the rest of your tribe. “We need you here, tending to our wounded. It’s where you shine best.”
You nod in acknowledgement. No one in the sietch ever expected you to fight but you often wish that you could do more. You think of your mother’s untimely death, of the way Fremen laid down their lives today. Your heart sinks. If anyone learned of what you did, you would be exiled. Rightfully so. Your eyes wander to your cousin, now besides Paul Atreides. Longing gazes lock and fingers twine before they disappear into their shared tent. You look away.
You hope one day that twisting inside your chest whenever you see them will cease. You are happy for them; you truly are. Nevermind that you felt a pull towards the heir of House Atreides from the moment you met him, that you felt it was returned when his gaze rested upon you. That all of it vanished the moment his eyes crossed Chani’s.
A seer from your tribe foretold that a woman in your family would have a great destiny, one that will change the fate of worlds. You now understand, that woman is Chani, and she and Paul aren’t just destined to one another. They are fated.
And who are you to stand in the way of fate?
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“You must be insane, girl,” the Harkonnen soldier scoffs as you remove the needle in his arm. Since he appears to have regained some color…or whatever consists of “color” for a Harkonnen, you elected to remove the plasma bag this morning.
A sliver of shame flutters through you that you were almost relieved to find him alive. You saved a life. Perhaps not the most worthy one, but a life nonetheless.
“Striking an enemy while he’s down isn’t brave,” you reply with nonchalance.
A crooked smirk cants his plump lips, baring a hint of the black teeth underneath.
“Insane and stupid then,” he sneers, the gristly echo of his voice resonating in the cave.
Ignoring the way his comment chafes you, you retrieve the little vials you packed this morning.
“Drink that.” He sits up, humming low in his throat with the movement when you’d expect him to wince or groan at the pain. It’s almost like he’s enjoying the pain he surely must be experiencing, but you discard that thought, because it’s ludicrous. What kind of person enjoys pain? “It’s water.” He studies you, making no move to grab the water. You fidget, unnerved that you can’t read his expression, his lack of eyebrows making it even more difficult. “I could only steal a little from the deathstill. It’s all I could get before anyone could see me.”
You briefly considered trading your mother’s water rings, the ones you inherited upon her death. The symbol of her standing and wealth within the Sietch Tabr.
Though while you may have saved your enemy, you want to hold on to that piece of her for as long as you can.
“I also have some food.” You rummage through your pouch to pull out dried fruits, slices of meats, bread and spice honey. It’s the best you could gather on short notice without drawing suspicion.
His dark gaze flicks over you as he taunts, “Perhaps I shall eat you. You look far more appetizing than…whatever this is.” You shudder, acutely aware that while cannibalism isn’t widespread amongst the Harkonnen…it’s also not unheard of. 
He snickers at your expression. “Do not fret, desert rose.” His gravelly voice drips with suggestion as he licks his lips. A chill runs through you as his black tongue and teeth are bared to you. “I’m not quite that hungry…yet.”
Your shift, discomfort slithering through you. There is something profoundly unsettling about the Harkonnen, even more so than a typical one. The blood leaking through the bandage draws your gaze.
“I should dress your wound and redo the stitching,” you offer, clearing your throat.
When your hand stretches towards his wound, he growls at you.
Your heart leaps and you retreat your hand.
“Please,” you insist. “You’re bleeding.”
When he doesn’t make another threatening sound, you take that as your cue. You quickly gather your supplies and approach him. The drumming of your heart inside your ears is a clamor, but you pretend it isn’t there, removing the bandage and driving the needle through his wound to sew it shut again. He doesn’t flinch, showing no hint of even feeling the needle. His sizzling scrutiny sears through your flesh, almost causing your usually steady hands to quake. You sharpen your focus, remembering your grandmother’s teachings. Steady heart, steady hands.
He tilts his head, dark gaze trained on you. “I threaten to eat you and you tend to me still. What a peculiar creature you are, desert rose.”
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The days fly by in a strange haze, your days spent preparing for the new Reverend Mother while you sporadically check on the stranger. He recovers faster than you expect, even without you needing to use the spice melange again. Considering he was at death’s door when you found him, you can’t help but be a little amazed.
You sense the time to go your separate ways is near. You have done a lot, likely more than you should. The alabaster-skinned warrior is well enough to roam the desert and find his way back to his people through his own means. You brought him supplies, food and a stillsuit. Whatever befalls him will be up to fate and his own wits. You don’t plan on returning after tonight.
“You’re looking better,” you note, checking his wound for the last time. You leave the bandage for good measure even if it’s clear he doesn’t need it anymore, the wound having begun to fade since you removed his stitches yesterday.
He pins you with that unsettling stare once more.
“That song you sang…” he rumbles.
“A song?” Your head tilts as you comb through your memories. It comes back to you. You sometimes hum it to yourself. It calms you down. You didn’t even realize you’d done it in his presence. “Ah, that song.” You shrug, a small smile sneaking onto your lips. “It’s just a lullaby my grandmother used to sing to me before she passed, to teach children about the Shai-Hulud.”
He looks at you in what you believe to be confusion at the name, though you can only assume.
“Your people call them… sandworms,” you explain. “They are sacred and should be revered.”
Silence hangs between you and the Harkonnen. His deep raspy voice shatters it after some time.
“Songs…I had a blade in my hands from the moment I could walk.”
“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, unsure what else to say. He doesn’t seem sad, more reflective, but it seems you should say something. “Do you…Do you ever think of what your life would be like if you weren’t Harkonnen?” When he looks at you blankly, a nervous laugh peals from your lips. “I’m sorry. That was a silly question.”
Your crysknife materializes in his hands from behind his back. Your blood runs cold as you pat your thigh. You don’t remember ever leaving it around him.
“My older brother...He took me from our parents when I was a baby,” he utters, sounding detached, almost as if he were recounting someone else’s life. “My uncle raised me. I don’t remember my father. And my mother…” His lightless gaze slams into yours as he smiles, exposing his glistening, black teeth. “I killed that whimpering, meddling bitch.”
Your breath snags in your throat. Perhaps…you let yourself get too comfortable around the Harkonnen. The crude reminder of who he is, who they all are, yanks you back to reality.
You bolt to your feet, coaxing a tremulous smile onto your face.
“It’s getting late. I should return home before the sandstorms grow too strong.”
As you prepare to leave, the muffled pitter-patter of footsteps above you freezes you in your tracks. Your eyes bulge. Dread sinks within you as you realize someone’s right above you.
Before a single sound can make its way past your lips, the Harkonnen’s large hand envelops your mouth. He pulls you flush against his bare chest as he whispers into your ear, “Quiet.”
His muscles go taut against you. You catch him twirling the blade with smooth precision, clearly ready to fight if need be. You hold your breath, bridling your stuttering heartbeats.
Two men in full Harkonnen livery leap inside the cave. Panic rushes through you.
However, instead of a fight breaking out, relief fills the soldier’s faces as they see him. 
“Na-baron. We received your beacon.”
Na-Baron…The air is knocked from your lungs. The title isn’t that common amidst the known universe. In fact, it’s quite unique and you only ever heard of one man from one specific house using it. Na-baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, the heir-designate to Baron Vladmir Harkonnen. 
He is a monster, a ruthless killer…and you nursed him back to health. Allowed him to get well enough to hurt, maim and kill as he pleases. The cave seems to twirl off its axis around you.
Perhaps he was right that night. You might be an insane idiot.
You feel the subtle lift of his lips against your scalp.
“Right. Did I forget to mention my name?” he taunts, as if he could read every thought zooming across your head. Giving you no time to even try to run or fight him off, the na-Baron slams your head against a nearby wall.
Pain explodes inside your skull. Your vision dims as you grow too weak to stand, your knees buckling beneath you. You fall into his arms and he holds you against him. He strokes the side of your face, a fire burning in his onyx orbs. Consciousness slips from you, his last words reverberating inside your ears.
“You and I are going home to Giedi Prime, my desert rose.”
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You awake startled, jarred by the softness of the sheets and the largeness of the bed around you. This is nothing like the cot you used to sleep on in the desert. You leap from the bed, clutching your face and hugging your frame, stunned to note you are without your stillsuit and face mask.
Instead, you are wearing a sheer white tunic that hugs your curves in a way that leaves very little to the imagination. The outfit is unlike you, impractical in every way. Your pulse escalates.
You rush to rise and nearly crash down on the bed again. 
Your forehead creases.
You wobble around, struck by the difference in gravitational pull, humidity and atmospheric pressure. Every breath you take exerts you, bearing heavily on your lungs.
Your head spins as you glance at the unfamiliar room. Every single detail of it is cold, somber, opulent.
Horror twists your insides.
You’re not on Arrakis anymore.
“You’re in the Harkonnen keep, darling.” 
The gravelly voice erupting at your back has you whirl around. A half-exposed Feyd-Rautha fills your sight, his carved alabaster muscles and bald head shimmering silver in the low light.
You swallow hard, fighting to keep yourself breathing normally in the brand new air.
“The Harkonnen Keep on…”
“Giedi Prime, yes,” Feyd-Rautha finishes.
While you understood it on your own, having it uttered out loud sends you in a renewed state of alarm. You are away from your family, your friends, your home. You are alone on a foreign planet. A hostile, enemy planet.
“In secluded apartments away from my other concubines,” he further informs. A shadow of mirth lurks in his gaze. “They’re quite the jealous kind. They may even try to take a bite out of you if they learn of your existence…” He leers at your shivering frame, making no effort to hide his lust, the evidence already bulging in his pants. “Though I don’t think I could entirely blame them.”
He inches closer to you. “How does the weight of a real planet feel?” he asks, a twisted excitement swaying in his dark orbs. “Is it crushing your bones? Is every cell in your body screaming in pain, my desert rose?” He grips your chin, studying you oddly, almost as if he wishes he could absorb every bit of your agony and discomfort.
You glare up at him, your insides white hot with rage.
“H-How could you do this? I saved you.”
He frames your chin, squeezing tightly. “Oh darling, you should have killed me…” A squeak spills from your throat as he drags his tongue across the side of your quivering cheek. His lips brush over your earshell as he mumbles under his breath. “Because there’s nowhere in the galaxy you will ever be able to hide from me now.”
“I belong in Arrakis with my people. You have to let me go,” you plead. 
You search his impassive face, scouring for an errant ounce of humanity. The emptiness you find has tears rushing to your eyes. 
“You belong with me…No, to me, desert rose. In my arms, screaming as I ruin that pretty cunt of yours with my cock.”
Fear floods your entire being. Your eyes scan the room. A faint spark of hope blooms inside you as you spot a long, sharp knife on a stone table nearby.
Pushing past the queasiness you experience every time you move on the unfamiliar planet, you race across the room and grab the knife.
You point it at him. Instead of cowering, Feyd-Rautha opens his arms, smirking.
“Do it,” he urges, making no effort to protect himself from the sharp blade in your hand, inviting you to strike him as his tongue darts across his lips.
His uncanny anticipation coats the air. Confusion fills you.
“I will,” you say, trying to appear braver than you feel. Still, the blade quakes in your hand.
“Please. I beg of you,” he purrs, gliding towards you. As he watches you hesitate, he cruelly reminds you, “You will never go home, never see your beloved planet again. In fact,...” He hums, his eyes lighting up as if a wonderful idea just occurred to him. “I think I might slaughter some of your family and friends just for sport.”
A wave of wrath surges through you. Bereft a thought behind it, your hand slashes across his chest, a small cut forming there. Droplets of blood so dark it appears black drip down onto his alabaster flesh. 
“More…” he rasps, pleasure leaking from his gravelly voice.
The sight of the bleeding wound rattles you, causing you to retreat.
But he doesn’t let you remove the blade, his fingers cinching around your wrist and keeping its sharp tip over his bulging pec. You sob as he forces you to drag the blade across his chest, a blissful expression spreading across his features. A long dark cut oozing dark red blood decorates his body now, going all the way to his defined abs.
Terror and confusion tangle within you. You stagger backwards, the dagger slipping from your lingers and hitting the floor.
“You’re sick.”
“I didn’t realize there was such a fire inside you, desert rose. If I don’t have you now, I think I’ll go mad.” His hoarse, lewd tone scrapes against your eardrums, causing your insides to twist in dread. He cracks his neck, black tongue sweeping over his lips as he approaches you. “No, I definitely will.”
It’s the only warning you get before he tosses you on the bed and rips the clothes off your frame. Tears brimming your lashes, you squeal in protest, scratching and punching every part of him within reach. You slap him hard and he cackles, baring his black smile in sheer delight. 
“Come on, desert rose, I’m sure you can hit even harder,” he sneers. 
To make him eat his words, you hit him again. Harder than before. His laugh gets louder as you watch a faint bruise form on his cheek.
Pinning your wrists besides your head, he bends over your chest. His tongue swirls around your nipples, his cool tongue causing you to hiss and shake. Sharp teeth graze your breast and the breath hitches in your throat. You squirm on the sheets, completely at the mercy of Feyd-Rautha as he licks, bites and kisses every part of your flesh. As if he wanted you covered in marks of his ownership, wanted to ensure there wouldn’t be a doubt in anyone’s mind that you were his if they stole a glance at you. You loathe the way your traitorous body writhes and pants, a disgusting dampness gathering at the apex of your thighs. 
The tears in your eyes swell. Your body is divorcing your frazzled mind little by little, yielding to his rough, wanton touch. 
He grabs your thighs and dips between your legs, diving straight for your center. He licks a long stripe up and down your folds and you tremble. As his devilish tongue swirls around your clit, your eyes flutter, blinding pleasure building in your core. Hot waves of delight engulf you as he gathers your arousal with his tongue and drags it around your tender spot. The slow, unrelenting patterns he traces with his mouth have you fight the urge to buck your hips into his jaw. Your juices drench the entire bottom of his mouth, but he doesn’t seem to mind, greedily devouring your cunt as if he’ll never get to do it again.
As you quiver against him, your orgasm flowing through you, he chuckles against your wet cunt.
“Your body can’t even deny how much it craves me, desert rose.”
Shame pulses through you with his words.
He crawls over you, cutting his pants loose with one aggressive shove downwards. Only a glimpse of his thick alabaster cock, glazed with his need at the tip appears in your vision before he shoves the entirety of himself in you. The pain is so intense, flames alongside your walls, that it robs the words from your throat. He sinks inside you until his tight balls chafe your cunt, his hand wrapping around your throat while the other keeps your wrists above your head.
You whimper beneath him, defenseless against his sharp, piercing thrusts. Pleasure builds within you, his cock overwhelming you with shameful sensations each time it grazes your sensitive places, making you see stars. Gargled sounds pour from your throat as his girth splits you apart.
He grunts as your walls constrict around him, slamming into you even harder.
“You’re so delightfully tight around me, darling.” He bends over you to whisper, “I bet I’ll turn you into my perfect little cock-hungry whore in no time. Have you on your back and knees for me whenever I wish it.”
The Harkonnen heir’s pace fastens, his cock hitting spots that have you question your sanity. So delicious that you can’t help but let pathetic little moans escape from your throat.
He buries himself inside you even deeper, the pain and pleasure blending in crescendo. Your eyes roll back as you near your peak. Meanwhile, Feyd Rautha’s hunting his own release, his quick thrusts growing sharp and slow, his bald head grazing your bare chest.
Pleasure rolls over in a tidal wave, your back curling alongside the sheets. His own release comes after yours, thick ropes of his seeds painting your sore, sensitive walls. 
As you crash in a boneless heap on the sheets, he wraps his hand around your jaw and steals your lips for a sloppy, heated kiss. 
You cry out in pain as he sinks his teeth into your neck, placing a visible puncture wound that won’t disappear for a while.
Still nestled in your warmth, he scatters more bites along your shoulder.
“Any man would be insane to let you go after tasting such a sweet cunt, desert rose.”
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You know he wants you to see, doesn’t want you to miss a single second of the spectacle. It was a split second moment, one that could have easily resulted in his death. 
But at the very last second, Feyd-Rautha prevailed and dodged Paul Atreides’ attack. He then proceeded to stab him in the heart in front of his heartbroken mother and your cousin. 
You don’t want to believe it. It must be an awful dream, one you will soon wake up from. One that lasted entirely too long. While seeing Paul’s body sink to the floor, your heart shattering into a million tiny pieces…Watching Chani glare at you with pure hatred in her eyes from across the room is almost worse. You want to run to her, embrace her, tell her you never meant to leave, tell her you aren’t a traitor to your people despite what clothes you may wear now, what marks may brand your skin. 
But it’s all for naught. Paul is dead and with him the hopes for your planet, for your people have died as well.
And you are left with nothing, no one. A stranger in a strange world. 
It’s what he reminds you as he has you caged beneath him that night, burying himself inside you again and again with abandon. 
“You’re mine, desert rose. And nothing, no one can take you away from me. Not my uncle. Not Paul Atreides. Not the Emperor.” He chuckles darkly, whispering against your ear. “...And not even you, darling.”
He is right. You are his. And with no one to challenge the rule of the now Baron Feyd-Rautha, ruler of House Harkonnen, it is as he said…There is nowhere in the galaxy you can hide where he will not find you.
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Text
Caught In It - LN
Summary: Lando is gaming and misses his girlfriend's calls for a ride when Monaco gets washed in a rainstorm
No part 2 requests please
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Y/n initially thought she could just wait it out, but it just got heavier. And according to the weather app, it wouldn't be done by the end of the day and he boyfriend who literally drives for a living, isn't picking up his damn phone to come pick her up.
A groan passes her lips as she prepares herself to make the walk home. On the bright side, Monaco isn't a huge place. So walking around isn't the most impossible task. But in torrential rain like seems to be hitting Monte Carlo. She is struggling hard.
It takes about 2 minutes for her to be soaked to the the skin.
Her body is trembling and shuddering with the cold since it's February and still so damn cold. Admittedly she may have been underdressed but Lando had given her a lift down and promised to pick her up when she called.
Now he's ignoring his phone, likely just caught up in something which would be completely fine, any other day. But right now she can practically feel the illness that slowly creeping up on her.
It only takes her 15 minutes but she's get back and groans.
"Baby?!" Lando calls out making her grumble before walking into the gaming room and the moment Lando looks at her, he can't even stop himself from laughing. "Baby...Oh god....baby, what happened? Why didn't you call me?"
"I did call you! Several times." Y/n shouts, not really that mad though it might only appear that she's not as mad because she shivering so much.
"Uh oh, someone's in trouble." Ginge comments through his headset while y/n marches off ready to burn herself in the shower to warm up.
"Oh baby, I'm sorry. Hold on-wait, come back."
"No! I'm cold, I'm wet and I'm mad at you!" Y/n exclaims without even considering turning back.
"Did she just say she's wet and mad at you?" Ginge asks since Lando's mic only picked up the end of her sentence. "Here, mate. You should-"
"Shut up. I think she got caught in a storm...and I ignored my phone." Lando groans still laughing a little. "Yeah, I should probably go. She's mad mad at me."
"She got caught in a storm? Mate, you'll be grovelling." Max laughs hearing Lando grumble.
"Yeah, ok, bye boys." Lando sighs quickly ending the stream once they've said goodbye. He steps to find a long puddle, presumably from his girlfriend leading to the bathroom where he can hear the shower is running.
So wanting to be helpful, he cleans up the water from her walking in in and eventually opens the bathroom door sighing as he looks at her under the water but she's already glaring at him with her arms cross by the time he's close enough to pout at her.
"I'm sorry baby." He tries but she huffs turning away while he sighs. "Are you warming up?"
"Yes."
At least she's talking to him. But in her defence of being upset. He'd probably be pretty upset too.
It's another 5 minutes before she finally turns back to him, looking at him for a moment as he holds as towel out for her.
"Come on, baby. I've got some grovelling to do." Lando smiles as she steps out and accepts being wrapped in the towel. "I didn't realise I'd bene ignoring my phone."
"It's ok." It's not, and she's ok saying it is because he seems genuinely sorry for it.
Lando ends up cuddling her for the rest of the day and somewhat waiting on her hand and foot, not even to her request. Half of the time she's about to get up and do something herself, only for Lando insist he get it or do whatever she was about to do.
Now usually Lando isn't a man who easily feels guilty, but his girlfriend is somewhat easy to sickness.
The trouble came the next day when Lando woke up drenched in sweat, not his sweat. But his burning girlfriend's was stuck in his arms. She's almost been sleeping too well.
"Oh baby." Lando sighs shifting away and knocking her from her fever induced sleep. "We need to cool you down."
"No. I don't want to be cold." Y/n whines nuzzling down into the bed.
"You've got a fever baby. We need to cool you down. I'm sorry." Lando sighs then standing up and trying to peel back the blankets from her.
He's not always the most responsible or domestic of boyfriend's, he'll be the first to admit that but he knows when to step up and take on the more nurturing role between them. Though he calls his mum for some advice on how to bring a fever down.
"Make sure you keep her hydrated too. If you can move her out of the bed and clean up the sheets, she'll probably thank you for that too."
"Ok. Alright. I think I got it. Thanks, mum."
"She'll be fine. Don't panic."
"I'm not panicking...I just don't like seeing her so sick." Lando murmurs while the woman hums at him. "I'll call you if I need more help."
"Be patient with her, the fever won't break immediately."
So he manages to move y/n to the sofa, putting a cool wet towel draped around her neck, much to her vocalised displeasure.
"Baby, can you take these?" Lando asks offering some ibuprofen as instructed by his mum, apparently it helps to try and break the fever. Though he was told to be patient, he still wants to move the process along as fast as possible.
"You're cute." Y/n mumbles as he sits behind her once she's sat up, just so he can support her sitting up. "You don't have to spend your day taking care of me. You have things to do."
"I do and at the top of the list is taking care of you." Lando states as he holds the glass of water for her and tips it so she can take a couple gulps to swallow the tablets back while she only struggles to swallow a little when smiling. "This is my fault anyway, you wouldn't be sick if I'd heard my phone."
While Lando might be feeling guilty and slightly panicking, y/n is sort of loving the attention even if she feels like she's been hit by a bus, maybe a slow moving bus, but a bus never the less.
"I'm going to take care of you-and never ever ever let you walk home in the rain again." Lando declares making her hum and lean her head onto his shoulder. "You still feel so hot."
"Sorry."
"No-don't apologise, baby. I just...I wish there was some faster way to make you feel better." Lando mumbles giving away his guilt.
"Hey, I'm fine. It's just a fever. It's not like I'm coughing a lung up. You know how over dramatically my body likes to react to being ill." Y/n states quickly. "Anyway, you're the best nurse I've had...well not counting my mum but I think that's a mum thing."
"Yeah well this is advice from my mum on how to take care of you. Anything that doesn't work, I'll blame her." Lando jokes knowing y/n would never allow for him to actually try to place any blame on Cisca.
"Shut up." Y/n laughs shaking her head before moving so she can lie across his lap. "I know I'm hot, but I genuinely feel so cold."
"I'm sorry, baby but you are burning up still." Lando sighs while feeling the damp towel which has warmed up thanks to her scalding heat.
"No, please. I know what you're thinking." Y/n whimpers before she looks at him for a moment and the two have a bit of a stare down. "Fine."
"Good girl."
Y/n groans when Lando pulls the towel from around her neck and moves to just get an entirely different towel since she has been sweating on that one and he doesn't want to put a dirty towel back on her.
"Fuck me, Lando. That's freezing." Y/n gasps when he places the towel on her and admittedly he may have made it ever so slightly colder than the previous one.
"Sorry, but I just want to try and cool you down more."
Lando ends up playing nurse for a few days and while he hates seeing her ill, he does sort of love the feeling of being needed and clung to. The illness did development into a cold and cough on the second day which added to her woes.
Even after her fever breaks, she feels kind of shitty and Lando has some beautiful moments from a stream which she had initially told him to take part in then ended up climbing onto his lap and watching him from her spot with lazy eyes and sniffles. Sort of just relishing in Lando's body warmth against her own.
"She's alright, guys. Just still in recovery mode from me being a bad boyfriend the other day." Lando laughs when noticing his chat have been commenting about her looking completely out of it.
"Yeah, I'm good." She nods smiling when she feels Lando kiss her hair through her hair.
Taglist: @namgification @hiireadstuff @jsjcue @geniusalpaca @itsjustkhaos @llando4norris
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sugarcoatedstarkey · 4 months
Note
hate sex. rafe or drew idc, u have total creative freedom w my suggestion!
Hate Sex
Pairing - Drew Starkey x costar!reader
Summary - good old hate sex.
Warnings - sexual intercourse, fingering, language, choking, name calling. 18+
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The anger bubbled in your chest, rising up your neck leaving behind a dark pink tinge to your skin. You had never let Drew get to you this bad before, you were pulling at the roots of your hair just thinking about his punchable but good looking face.
“Breath Y/n” your friend stated, she had hidden herself behind the very small table in your trailer. She was quite frightened when you let your anger out.
She jumped halfway into the air when you threw your phone at the floor, shattering the screen in the process.
“Now look what that fucker has made me do!” You all but screeched, you couldn’t take it anymore. You had to go and speak to him, how DARE he talk about you like that in an interview.
“Oh no no no, you can’t go speaking to him when you're this angry! He didn’t do anything wrong!” Your friend shouted, slamming her palm over her mouth when she realized what she let slip.
“How could you side with him?!”
“Oh come off it y/n, he said lovely things about you!”
“All very untrue things! He made me look like some weak girl who was falling at his knees.. no you know what I’m leaving!”
Before your friend could stop you, you darted out the trailer door and sprinted for him. Exactly 23 steps later your fist pounded at his trailer, you didn’t wait for him to answer and stormed in.
Drew stood in the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his lower half, steam filling the very small shower. Both Chase and Austin sat on the couch staring at you with wide eyes, the sound of the PlayStation in the background echoed through the deafening silence from the four of you.
“What’s up y/n?” Drew sang, giving you his famous boy next door grin. You just wanted to rip his face off but also kiss his face off.
“How dare you?!” You yelled, Drew’s eyes creased together in the middle as he looked at you in confusion. “Want to enlighten me on what I’ve done now sweetcheeks?” He chuckled, stepping out of the bathroom and closing the door. Your eyes dropped for only a moment when a bead of water ran down his chest and dissolved into the towel.
He gave you a knowing look that you shook off. “What’s all that shit you said in the interview?” You questioned, he let out a throaty laugh. Almost a cackle. This had you wild, you stormed towards him with curled fists at your side. “Don’t laugh! You made me out to be some weak girl, talking about how I’m the main person who laughs at your jokes on set, that I always get emotional at old couples!” You shouted, the old couple remark was true.
You did get emotional BUT that didn’t give him the right to tell people, it’s your personal life, personality. They get what they get, they don’t need to know the deeper version of you.
“Y/n, Come on. I wasn’t doing it out of spite” he stated, he was frustrated now. You always jump on him the second you can, yelling down his throat and making him feel like everything he does is wrong. “I honestly don’t give a shit! Don’t talk about me in interviews again!”
He rolled his eyes and looked over your shoulder at your friends, they had both gotten up ready to bounce. They hated being around when the two of you fought.
“Don’t roll your eyes! God! Drew you're so frustrating!”
“Me?! Me, frustrating? You talk some shit y/n, your always down my throat”
“Because you're always being so difficult!”
“Maybe you should lighten up a little and realize I’m a decent human being and your just angry at the world”
“Fuck you Drew”
“No, fuck you”
It happens in a split second, you're both reaching for each other. Your lips hastily press together, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. His hands cup your jaw, your tongues fight with one another. Even kissing, you have to be fighting.
“That’s our que” you heard from behind you, but you didn’t want to pull away. One of his hands drops from your face, grasping onto your waist he pulls you closer to his body.
“You're still annoying” you breathe, his lips trail down your neck. Sucking at the flesh between your collarbone and throat. Your nails scratched down the length of his back leaving deep red lines.
“You're still a bitch” he bit, pushing you towards the couch. Your back met the cushion with a thump, his body trailed behind closely. Parting your legs so he could slot between them.
You had forgotten he was only in a towel, which now parted giving you the most glorious view of his thick hard cock. “Shit” you whined, practically forcing his body down on yours. His hands bunched up your dress to expose your cotton thong, his cock nudged at your pussy.
“How can someone so annoying be blessed with such a perfect cock” you spoke, his chuckle was muffled by the skin of your chest.
“How can someone so frustrating be so fucking hot” he commented, his mouth left kisses along the apex of your chest. You pushed yourself to sit up, pulling the material of your dress over your head.
You now sat in just your panties, his hands palming at your breasts. “Fuck you” you moaned, his teeth pulling your hardened nub. Suckling at your nipple, while the other hand grabbed your ass cheek. “I’m getting their baby” he whispered, the pet name sending shivers down your spine.
“Touch me”.
His fingers dipped under the material of your panties, sliding his pointer and forefinger between your fold and back up to your clit. “Oh shit, yeah like that” you cried, grinding your pussy into his hand. Slipping his two fingers into your cunt, you bite down on his shoulder as he finger fucked you. Pressing the palm of his hand into your clit at the same time, sending your body into overdrive. “You like that? Of course the little bitch likes to be fingerbanged hm? Been thinking about these fingers inside of you huh?” He grunted, brows creased in the middle. He watched your face intently, the way your mouth dropped opened and you gasped for more breath.
“Answer me!”
“YES yes oh fuck yes! Wanted these fingers in me since I met you” you screamed, his dick twitching at your statement. Your moans bounced off the wall and you were sure everyone could hear.
He abruptly pulled his fingers out of you, a slur of protest fell from your lips. “What the fuck Drew?!”.
“Get up and sit on my cock, quit whining and do what I say for once you little slut”.
The vulgarity to his words had your insides fluttering like a damn school girl, pulling your panties down and straddling his hips.
Reaching between the two of you to grasp his cock, giving him a rough few tugs. “Fuck… what I’d do to have your pretty little mouth around my cock right now.” He groaned, his head arched against the backrest of the couch. You began to slide off him, his hands catching your hips before you could get on your knees.
“Right now I want your tight little cunt to sit on my cock, next time I’ll stuff your throat with my cock and make you eat the angry words that you constantly spit out”.
Your ears pricked up at the next part, unbothered by the way he spoke to you. “Fuck you Drew” you spat, his large hand held the base of his cock for you. The tip of his bright pink head nudged at your opening, you took him in painfully slow. Your eyes rolling back as his cock stretched you wide, your hands pressed against his chest for leverage. “Oh-h… oh” you cried, his cock buried deep within your walls.
He gives you a moment to adjust, eyes staring hard at your expressions. The moment your eyes reopened he was bringing your body up and down on him harshly, causing a string of curse words to slip from your mouth.
Your tits bounced in his face, you finally brought yourself out of the sex daze you had fallen into and moved your hips, grinding against him roughly.
Your fingers wrapped around the base of his throat, his eyes were wild. Dark and full of lust, watching you gnaw at your lip. “That’s it pretty girl, fuck my cock like its best goddamn cock you’ve ever had”.
Your nodding your head in agreement, “the best fucking cock, so big” you cried, unaware you had just agreed to him. You were so drunk on dick, you had forgotten how much he irritated you.
“That’s right, best goddamn cock you’ve had. Show me how much you love it” he ordered, and you obliged. Riding him like your life depended on it, throwing your head back. Your nails dug into the flesh of his shoulders, his fingers grabbing your waist tightly.
“Fuck! Just like that!” He groaned, his hands caressed your back. Ducking his head to envelope your nipple into his mouth. “Yes yes yes yes yes” you mumbled, your bodies had a light sheen of sweat to it. “Move” he order, pulling you up from his cock only to spin you around. Pushing your knees into the cushion of the couch and thrusting his cock back into you.
“SHIT!” You cried, clawing at the back of the couch. His large hand pushed you down against the couch, putting one of his legs into the couch to give himself a better angle to fuck into you. “Yeah you like it rough huh”.
The angle of his cock had you in tears, overwhelming pleasure coursed through you. “Of course you like it rough, you’re a dirty angry slut” He could feel you where close, the way your pussy walls fluttered around him, reaching around to grasp your neck and pulling out of you. “DREW! You asshole” you cried, the pleasure that had building in your lower stomach fizzled out only to reignite when his fingers closed around your neck.
“Jump”
You did as order and wrapped your legs around him, he slipped his cock back into you. Moving you both just enough so your bum sat against the bench, ruthlessly he fucked into you. Squeezing his finger around your throat, your own hand coming around to grip his wrist, you screamed and cried in pleasure.
“You dirty little slut! Who knew you were more than just a whining bitch” he spat, pressing his lips to yours before you could fight back. Your fingers scratched up and down his back, the only way you could tell him he was an asshole.
“Drew” you warned, your pussy walls pulsating around his cock and you chased your high. “You're gonna come? Go on then pretty girl, come around my cock” he urges.
His hips move faster and deeper, dropping his finger between you to fondle your clit.
“Holy shit! Oh o-oh!” You cried, letting the overwhelming pleasure knock you over. Curling your toes and tightening your legs around him, your pussy pulsated around his cock. Your nails dug deep into his shoulders trying to ground yourself.
He wrapped her arm around your waist tightly and followed suit, coming deep inside of you. “Fuck fuck fucking hell”.
His sweaty forehead met your chest, both your breathing labored. A few moments of silent breaths go by and he pulls away from you, helping you down from the bench.
“This doesn’t mean I suddenly like you” you comment, stepping around him to collect your dress. Rushing into the bathroom to clean yourself up.
A few moments and words to yourself go by and you open the bathroom door; eyes searching the floor for your panties.
“Looking for these?” He questioned as you stepped out, holding onto your thong with his finger like a prize.
“Fuck you”
“Just did”
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halcyone-of-the-sea · 8 months
Text
Run Away To Me (I)
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AU MASTERLIST || PART II
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PAIRING: Blacksmith!Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Runaway Bride!Reader
WORDCOUNT: 4.8k
WARNINGS: Blood, wounds, being hunted/chased, medieval period-esc standards, arranged marriage insinuations, toxic family insinuations, angst, protective Johnny?, etc.
A/N: This series is so Lord Huron coded
*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*
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You rush through the low-hanging branches of the reaching pines, their green arms tearing at the once perfect and virginal white dress clothing your body; waves of delicate fabric like bird’s wings. Shredded and torn, you sob in large gasps while the shouting gets louder behind you—the pound of vile hooves along cobblestone. 
“After her!” Blood was rushing down a long slice in your palm, dripping to the verdant grass as you traversed the off-trial paths, the roads of animals and bandits—monsters in the night. 
Flashes of torchlight had gone out long ago, the rain slamming the ground with ancient purpose as the storm got angrier. Tree trunks slam into your shoulders, the wedding dress ripping away in strips as pine needles pierce the bare skin of your feet. Your shoes had slipped off as soon as you had started this mad dash. 
“She went this way! Quickly!” You run faster, shuffling down a long hill as mud gets packed into your flesh; infecting wounds with its slimy make-up. 
“Please,” your voice begs lowly, hiccuping out vowels as you drop to your knees at the bottom of a ravine before you sob and grit your teeth. Wading through the stream of chilled water, you dig into the ground and shove yourself up on shaking legs as rain pelts your head. “Please, I can’t go back.”
Even your thin clothes are heavy on you—body weighed down by terror and a desperate plea. Because what you said was true. You can’t go back. Can’t go back to the search party, can’t go back to the ceremony…and you can’t go back to the man you were supposed to marry. No, you’d rather face the woods. 
Scaling up the other edge of the ravine, you slam a bloody hand down to the rocks atop, pebbles flying past your face as a flash of lightning momentarily illuminates your field of view. Noises reminiscent of an animal carve their way out of your esophagus, teeth gritted as feet slip and strain. 
You heave yourself over and fight the weakness in your arms. Coughing, you pray the storm will wash away any trace of your charge to freedom—the blood and the tracks. With any luck, the hounds won’t be able to pick up your scent even with the strips of your dress left behind in the branches. 
Pushing away the water from your forehead, you stumble onwards on unsteady feet that pound with pain. Grasping at your gushing palm, you cry out as the burning pain echoes up your forearm.
“Whatever God is out there,” You speak in gasps, slurring the words as your dry throat grates. It’s all but lost to the wind in its great bouts of staggering attacks through the trucks of the trees. “Please, offer me sanctuary.” 
Lightning is the world’s answer, more streaks of light that make your soaked body flinch and shake even more. Yet, in that tiny second of light, there had been something in the far distance—a shadow. 
Your eyes peer harder, the calls from the riders suck in the back of your mind as they taper off as the search is re-routed. 
What was…?
Wooden sides, three separate rectangular shapes that stand firm in the rampaging elements. Your feet slide over the ground as you limp in the direction you’d seen them, the flesh of your body so cold that you had gone numb in the sheets of rainfall. 
A heart fills with senseless hope.
A homestead! With no other option, you take a deep, ragged, breath and continue on as quickly as you’re able; dress hanging off one shoulder. When you reach the front door some ear-ringing minutes later you’re barely standing upright—legs teetering and thighs shaking with dying vigor. 
Panting, your first banging to the wood is weak at best, barely a sound above the thunder and the slap of rain. You strangle a sob and wrench your shoulder back, landing three hard hits that act more like punches. Pain blossoms in your hand, but you continue striking the wood. 
There’s a loud ruckus from behind the blackened barrier, a yell, and before your knuckles can make themselves bleed from fear-filled adrenaline, the door is whipped open. A dim firelight spills out from a low hearth and you find yourself staring into the narrowed eyes of a man and his exasperated expression. 
There’s the beginning of a growl, heavy with an accented voice, “Now who in the hell is—!”
A strong jaw goes slack, brunette stubble stilling. Blue eyes like cobalt instantly peel back to show the whites, words strangled away in a sharp inhale. 
The man is in his late twenties, stocky, and clothed in a loose sleep shirt made of thin linen with black pants. His shoulders were near large enough to knock on the frame of the door as he stood in it, built with the strength of a boar and then some. His large, lightly-tanned hand on the door slackens as his eyes speedily dart down your disoriented form. Biceps the size of your skull.
Heart hammering, you stare for a moment longer, rain pelting your back and looking like a wet dog. It’s as if you’ve forgotten to speak beyond gasps for air, but your eyes implore enough for you. The stranger recovers from his surprise at seeing such a beautiful lone woman at his door with a clearing of his throat.
“...Christ, Dearie, you’re soakin’ wet out here.” He shoulders the door open wider without another question. “Inside, now, quickly.” 
You wrap your arms around your waist and speed into the shelter of the home, water dripping down to the wood as you shiver and your teeth clatter. Not for a second did you think if this might be safe or not, too scared of the riders and their hounds than anything. You wouldn’t allow them to drag you back to your husband-to-be. Not in a million years. 
Your voice is hiccuping as you speak.
“I…I don’t mean to i-intrude, I’m very sorry, Sir.” The man looks around his home before he spots a large bear fur by the messy bed in the corner—he rushes over and grabs it. “I ask forgiveness for w-waking you at such an hour.”
“Jesus, is that what you’re worried about?” Blue eyes crease at you as the heavy fur over your shoulders; your hands snap to catch it, the entire thing swallowing you as gaze up in confusion. The man frowns, staring back as water drips from your nose. “Let’s just focus on gettin’ you dry, yeah? You’ll catch your death like this, Little Lady.” 
A wide hand presses to the expanse of your spine, prodding you forward as you squeak at the sudden contact. You’re guided to a small chair in front of the hearth, plopped down and the sides of the fur are hiked up to your neck quickly.
The stranger kneels down in front of you, focused, and his tired eyes alight with worry. He makes sure the fur isn’t going to fall as he blinks over the state of your hands. He pauses, his large grip stalling at the sight of spreading blood. 
Your wound—you’d almost forgotten. 
“Now what’s this, then?” The brunette's words are quiet, very in-tune with your state as you try to catch your breath and shiver. It was like coaxing a wild animal. 
Blinking, you shift your hand farther under the bear's fur, bringing it to your chest. 
“I won’t be here long, Sir. I promise,” you try to change the topic, but quickly jerk your nose into the crook of your arm as you sneeze, bending over slightly as mud and blood stain your skin. 
Lips tighten along a square face.
“It’s Johnny, Miss.” The world outside rages on, blocked out by the four walls of this nicely sized home of wooden logs and boards. It was well-made with pine and cider, the large hearth in the back wall with inlets near the shuddered windows and various crudely carved pieces of art. 
Weapon displays lined the walls, various makes and models hung on pegs. Axes and swords, spears with red-leather shafts set next to halberds of black steel. You blink at them in slight concern, not used to being around weapons. 
Johnny, as he calls himself, sees this and quickly explains as he rubs at the back of his head, eyes crinkling. 
“Ah, Johnny MacTavish, the blacksmith, that is,” a small, rough chuckle echos out. 
You ease at that. 
“Mr. MacTavish,” you give your name and offer a kind, yet still anxious, smile. “I give my thanks for allowing me shelter. A-and the fur.” 
His gaze slips down to your hidden hand once more, face swirling with an unidentified emotion before studying your torn wedding gown.
“Well, I’m not one to leave a person out on my doorstep in weather like this. Certainly not a Lady.” His brow raises, head tilting. “You going to let me clean that wound a’yours or am I going to have to fish it out myself?” 
Your body tenses slowly, bare feet shuffling over the floor. Staring at Johnny, you gaze at the strangely cut hair atop his head and the messy strands that speak to a night of shifting on his bed. His face is honest and open to you, blinking in soft question as his head angles to the side with an easy twitch of his lips. 
“It’s really not necessary,” you try to chuckle but it falls flat, eyes red and heart still speeding. 
Johnny sighs and glances at the fire, blinking before he shifts to grab another log and toss it in with no concern for the heat of the flame that lap at his fingers. You watch his muscles bunch under his shirt and quickly look at your lap. 
“I’m not the greatest doctor out there, Dearie, but I can do good with washin’ out a cut an’ wrapping it.” You study him and nervously tighten your lips. Johnny’s face seems to soften, hands going up and wrists tilting as his knee stays connected to the floor; firelight on his face. A small smile blooms. “C’mon, I’m not that scary of a bastard, am I?”
You spare a tiny chuckle, shoulders jumping as rainwater slips down your chin. Your shivering was still going on, and would until you got a change of clothes, but the warmth from the fire was helping tremendously. Already feeling was returning to your limbs. 
“Ah,” the blacksmith huffs a laugh, “there’s a smile. Now, let's have a little look-see shall we?” 
Under the fur, your hand lightly shifts, coming back into view, slit palm and all. Johnny’s eyes darken, face going serious behind his stubble. Brown brows turn in. 
“Now where in the hell did you get a—” Just as his gigantic hands were about to circle around yours, there was a violent knock at the door. 
You shoot up in an instant, jerking away from the blacksmith as he snaps his head to the front, eyes lighting. He stands up slowly as you back up a few paces, eyes frantically darting back and forth. The knocking starts up again and thunder peels from outside. 
Your form flinches.
“You can’t let them take me back,” you say quickly, breathing catching up in speed again. Fear burns your lungs and suddenly you’re ten times colder than before. “Mr. MacTavish, please, I can’t go back.”
Another round of knocking shakes the barrier. Blues eyes stare at you blankly, half-turned face pulled in visible confusion as Johnny’s jaw clenches. 
A voice echoes from under the door as the blacksmith once more lets his eyes linger down your battered frame; taking in cuts and the limp you carry. Muddy feet and water stained red. His hands twitch at his sides. 
“These are the guards of Lord Wilkin, would anyone in this home come to make him or herself known? It is of the utmost urgency!” You grow more fearful, head darting to find any other exit in this home but you land on nothing besides the windows. Your fingers shake with panic.
No, no, no.
Confusion gives way to deep concern.
A hand grasps your upper arm and you’re being hurried to the corner wall by the front door with fast feet and a firm, iron, grip. An accented voice mumbles quietly by your ear, “Keep quiet for me, Dearie. It’s alright, you let me take care of it.”
He stands you there and takes one last look at you, blinking, before grabbing the bear fur and pulling it above your head in a swift motion. There’s a quiet chuckle as you tense and slam a hand up to the brown material instinctually before Johnny darts around the corner and opens the door. You hold your breath and listen.
“Well, steamin’ Jesus, you bastards have any idea what time it is?! And in this damning weather, you show up at my door reamin’ on the wood like you’re the one who has to keep it anchored to the frame.” There’s a fast conversation of apologies and explanations that you can't catch above the yell of the rain.
“Does it look like I give a shite about a lost bride? Not my fuckin’ place to keep ‘er…I’ve seen nothing besides you…anyone out in this storm is as good as lost…” You listen and stay completely still, holding your breath as if it’s a prisoner in your lungs. 
You can hardly believe it. Why was this man…lying for you? A wounded stranger that had shown up at his doorstep in nothing but a tattered gown and babbling through tears. Anyone else would have turned you over—especially to your betrothed, Lord Wilkin. He owned these lands and held fiefs by all who lived here. Not a man to mess with, if your slit palm was anything to go by.
“Go on!” Johnny calls loudly, and the door closes a second later, the latch locking. There’s a moment of nothing, before the clearing of a throat and a soft call. “Well, they won’t be back, least.” 
He pops around the corner and smiles comfortingly. 
“Sorry about the yellin'.” You part your lips in innocent awe and you take a deep breath before speaking slowly.
“Why would you do that?” His expression tightens, crossing his arms over his chest. Under him, his large hips shift.
“Ya asked, didn’t you?” Your blank expression only serves to make him chuckle heartily, head shaking. Johnny hums, “I won’t press you about it all tonight, though I well should. You’re in no shape for it.” Cobalt eyes glance at the food before looking back up. “But I’m guessin’ you have a good enough reason to sneak off as I hear you did.” 
The very blood in your body heats with warmth.
You’re waved back over to the chair by the hearth. “Let’s get that injury looked at and I‘ll get you a change of clothes. You can take my place for the night,” eyes twinkle, “there’s no bed bugs in it, Dearie, knight’s honor.”
“What about iron shavings?” You call back softly, lips jerking up momentarily. The man’s actions had given you a large amount of trust in him. Johnny blinks in surprise at your joke, but a large grin grows moments later as you walk over delicately.
“Can’t say for certain, but I promise there’ll be no weapons under the covers. If anyone breaks in they’ll find my fists to be the first iron they get a touch of.” 
Your laugh bounces off the walls, hand coming up to cover your mouth in the picture of a cultured upbringing. Johnny chuckles in turn, looking smug. He liked your laugh, it seems.
“That was detestable, Mr. MacTavish.” You sit down, and Johnny kneels where he had been before—his hand outstretched where you carefully place your wounded limb. 
Immediately you feel the scrape of old burns and calluses, hands hardened by long hours of labor and intensive demands. You’re certain these are the hardest hands that have ever touched your skin, but it astounds you by how gently you’re being caressed and turned. People with far fairer flesh have never handled you like this. As if you would break apart with the barest of pressures.
Your breath stills as the blacksmith, with all the care of a butterfly, tilts your cut into the light and studies it, thumb absentmindedly brushing up and down your wrist. You hold back a shiver. 
“Ah,” he grumbles, still smiling yet more focused on your injury now. “It wasn’t that bad.”
You hum under your breath and try not to flinch when he wipes away a stain of mud near your wound. The blacksmith grunts to himself, gentle pressure at your flesh like the scuff of tree bark. But it wasn’t unpleasant. No, you thought, not at all. 
The two of you fall into a hole of soft silence, Johnny leaving for a moment to grab a bucket of water and bandages, saying in a mutter that he had plenty of the former to go around.
“Have a habit of burnin’ myself on my bad days, y’see,” he shimmies past, pausing before pulling back up the bear fur from where it had slightly slipped down your neck. “Comes with the job.”
Your face burns as he grabs what he needs, eyes stuck on your lap. You were astounded by the man’s ability to put away his obvious confusion for your care, how he was content to wait for answers until you were rested. It was honorable of him. 
Thinking back to Lord Wilkin’s guards at the door, your thighs shift over the chair. They’d be looking for you until they found you—be that days or months, it didn’t matter. The Lord wasn’t someone to let what he wanted get away from him. Like senseless beasts, your family would undoubtedly help. Your chest is stiff with worry. How would you get away with this?
The scene you’d made at the wedding wasn’t exactly subtle. 
Johnny comes back carrying a small bucket of fresh water, ladled from the wash basin, and a bundle of clean white cloth. 
“Alright,” he huffs, “let’s get this sorted, eh, Dearie?” The wound was very obviously a slice from a knife, anyone could see it. 
Johnny takes your hand once more and holds it in his palm, glancing up at you before dipping one of the cloths into the water and beginning to clean the cut. 
“Is it…bad, Mr. MacTavish?” You ask, worried about the likelihood of scarring. That would be the last thing you would want. The blacksmith looks up from where he pats the edges, the fabric already going red.
“Just Johnny, if it pleases you,” he smiles, hulking form seemingly all a facade to hide a cheeky and loyal Scot. “And…no, not bad. If you’re worried about a mark, don’t be—it’s deep but only at the beginning. A slight discoloration, no more.” His brows pull back, teasing, “You’ll not end up like me, at any rate.” Your shoulders ease back, and you let him work with a thankful comment and a giggle.
You watch and take in the way his jaw clenches and loosens as he works, completely focused as if he was fashioning an axe and not helping a complete stranger. 
“There’s no harm in scars,” you settle on saying, thinking over his last comment. Blues lock with your eyes, head tilting like a hound. Your face gains a slight heat to it and you stutter, “It’s just this one I’d rather not carry, Johnny.” Smiling warmly, you see the man’s lips part, his motions stalling for a moment as he looks up at you and blinks. “But yours suit you if…I’m allowed to say.”
It’s then that you realize that a slight flush has come to his cheeks, starting from under his stubble and leaking out to his cheeks like a red blaze—his gaze burrows deep with hidden fire that rivals the dancing shadows from the hearth.
Noticing, your own face burns all the hotter as the blacksmith quickly clears his throat, snapping his eyes away. Fingers once more cleaning your cut, he grunts out, neck now shifting to a blush of crimson, “...Thank you, Miss.” 
You stay in silence for the rest of the delicate process; the air heated and rolling with something. Electricity sparks when Johnny’s hands rub across yours, large enough to break you in an instant but acting like moss over a stone. You find yourself falling into a sort of comforted state you hadn’t felt in a long time—the fur over your shoulders and the tingle of skin-on-skin contact that expects nothing but offers all. 
“There,” Johnny says at last, and a part of you wants to cry when he pulls back, standing slowly. A firm but malleable wrapping is over your palm, a tiny knot tied in the middle to keep it from falling off. 
You bring it to your abdomen and blink, the other hand going to run over the material. 
“Thank you, Johnny. Truly. If I hadn’t found your homestead, I would have been lost.” The man rubs at the back of his neck, tunic bunched up by his elbows. 
“Gah,” after a second of bruising off the comment, he waves a hand while his wide chest puffs with pride. “It’s no trouble, really. Keeps me on my toes.”
Outside the storm continues to beat the walls, and the blacksmith can’t help but feel his eyes drawn to your dwarfed form under the large fur, the dripping water, and the weight of your gown. Based on the information from the guard, he had a decent story already forming in his head. 
A runaway bride and an angry Lord. By his own role as the fiefdom’s accomplished blacksmith, he should be turning you over. But your eyes had been flooded with tears when you’d pounded on his door; soaked in rain and mud—blood. No shoes. Freezing. 
You had looked so afraid, his heart had hurt for you, a strong need to shelter you stuck like a knife into his ribs. Johnny had seen much in his life, war, and death, but your desperation had stuck a cord in him. 
He’d keep you here with no charge, offer food and shelter, and do what he can to understand your situation. If not for simply hospitality sake, then because he had heard your laugh and had found it to be like a bird’s call in the wake of a dew-coated morning. Your soft skin like the wisps of fire from his forges. Your voice like a rippling spring. There was no way to describe the way he wanted to help besides to admit to himself that he was a good man. 
And, while cocky, the blacksmith had never once been self-absorbed.
He watches you rub at your damp cheek and starts out of whatever trance he had been sucked into. 
“I’ll…” Johnny rubs at his neck again, “I’ll get you that change of clothes, Bonnie. You just wait right here.” 
You stare at his back as he strides over, the fatigue washing back over you now that the adrenaline leaves in its stupendous sweep of heavy heartbeats. Anyone else would have given you up. Your face softens, seeing the quick dig of hands into the stack of clothes in the dresser. 
“Fuckin’ hell,” the man huffs, looking over his shoulder and shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Dearie, all I’ve got are my tunics and pants.” Black and pale cream linen is held up on display. 
“Oh,” you mutter, “I don’t mind,” your chuckle makes his lips twitch with care. “I would just prefer to be out of this…thing.” Your eyes glare down at the tattered gown, breathing softly. “Anything is perfect.”
“Well, then I hope you don’t mind the smell of fire,” Johnny hums. “Here you are.” As much as his insides twist to understand the story, making sure you don’t run a cold was more important. 
Your legs push you up and you walk over softly, gliding over the wooden floor to take up the articles and dig your fingers into the warm and easy texture, thin stitching, and cuffed wrists. There was a cut down the neck with a tied cord looped through, making up an ‘x’ pattern. 
“I would say thank you again,” you begin, “but I think you’ll be getting annoyed with how many times I’ve already said it.”
Johnny laughs, crossing his arms over his chest and setting his feet. 
“Ah, perhaps only a little.” Silence laps into a minute, and you study him with slow puzzlement, tilting your head. For a moment, the man wonders what he’s done. The blacksmith’s dark brows furrow, lips moving back. He looks down at the clothes again and starts with a wild blinking of his lids. 
“Oh! Hell’s bells, right,” Johnny walks to the other side of the room and swiftly turns his back to you with respect and a burning neck. He cringes. “Christ.” 
You laugh brightly, letting the fur fall to the floor as you undress and shimmy into the borrowed clothes. Your nose takes in the scents of metal and fire—fatty linseed oil used to protect a blade against corrosion. With the crackling fire, you slip the large tunic above your head and find that it falls heavily over you; far thicker than it seemed and very comfortable, ending at your lower thigh. 
But those scents make your head spin, rolling up the cuffs as you bring your nose to the collar and once more take it in with a slow breath. You hum and move, throwing the bear fur back atop your shoulders and grabbing your ruined garments from the floor before calling out to the rod-straight figure. 
“Johnny?” His arms lightly jerk, as if he’d been unfocused, but he doesn’t turn around. “Where would you like me to throw these?” 
The blacksmith delicately tilts his head to the side and utters with his eyes stuck to the side wall. “Bin by the door is just fine.” You look to the container holding scraps and other garbage to be taken out and drop the gown in before rubbing your cheek. 
Wide cobalt eyes stare at the clothes you wear heavily, jaw loose before he re-set it and averts his gaze. Johnny chuckles to ease himself and loops his thumbs into his waistband, embarrassed.
“Do you need anything else, then?” Your eyes blink with fatigue.
“No, I…I don’t think so.” Gazing at the home, your lips thin. Your family would have a heart attack if you even mentioned that you were staying the night at a complete stranger’s homestead. No protection, no way to beat off a blacksmith beyond a well-placed punch, and running from your betrothed. To say that you’d cause anything less than a heart attack would be generous. But Johnny felt different. Firmer in his emotions and intentions. Far more than the Lord. 
That was really all that matted. 
“Are you really sure this is okay,” you still ask hesitantly, gargantuan clothes atop your frame. Johnny is already nodding firmly.
“It’s my pleasure. I won’t be turnin’ you back out to the woods in a storm like this.” For whatever reason, the next words fall from his lips like an oath. “There’ll be no harm comin’ to ya as long as you stay under my roof.” 
Your hand burns with the memory of his gentle grip and your heart skips beats. You feel as if a great weight is lifted, even if only for a night. 
“Alright,” your words barely make it to air, and you grip the bear fur harder to stop yourself from kissing this man’s cheek, wanting to take him into a tight hug. 
Johnny takes a blanket from the bottom of his bed and shuffles over to the inlet below the shuddered window, sitting down while you slowly walk forward. 
“But, Little Lady,” you rest on the edge of the bed and look up to find him watching you intently, leaning back with a hand behind his head and the other on his stomach. The fire still crackles, the storm still dances outside, and the room is still tight with something you can’t put a name to. Like you’re caught in a trap of soft pillows and the scent of metal, you listen to the blacksmith with bated breath. “I’ll be needin’ answers…you hear?” 
Licking your lips, you nod tersely. “Tomorrow,” you agree. 
Johnny gazes off into your eyes, the runaway bride that had shown up on his doorstep and captured his attention like a bird made of a white wedding gown and panicked breath. He sneaks a peek down at your wrapped hand as you settle on his bed, burrowing into his furs and his covers—wearing his clothes. 
For some unknown reason, the smallest of blood stains makes his chest roll with bright anger. 
“Tomorrow,” he grunts through a tight jaw before he fights to turn his head away from you. It’s a long while before he sees any type of sleep, listening to the sound of your soft breath and the crackle of the fire.
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jvngkoos · 8 months
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⤷ seven plus one — jjk
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pairing: simp bf!Jungkook x fem!reader
genre: smut
summary: jungkook is happy to be finally forgiven, but he's yet to control himself around you.
word count: 2.2k
warnings: somn*phil*a, fing*ring, p*ssy eating, face r*ding, mentions of bl*wjob, mentions of shower s*x, mentions of c*m play
notes: this is an additional part to seven days, there’s not really a story line continuation so you can read them separately! this was requested by an anon, I hope you like it 🤍
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It’s 7 in the morning and Jungkook is awake, feeling sweat running down on his bare back.
He rubs his eyes and takes a look around to figure out why he’s suddenly feeling this hot, finding out the reason after a short while of scanning your room through squinted eyes.
It’s the sun that peeks through the window, it’s so strong that even the closed blinds can’t stop it’s rays from falling right upon his clotheless body.
He groans, feeling sore on every inch of his body as he falls on his back again. Plus he has a runny nose, how great, he must have gotten a cold.
Well, it’s not a surprising outcome considering how he spent half an hour of his time last night outside in the storm, begging you to take him inside.
He smiles remembering what happened after, you might have kept him in the cold for a short while but at the end, you took him inside and took very good care of him.
He turns around, sighing dreamily as he watches your shoulders rise up and fall down slowly, peacefully. Your behind is facing him, and he cannot resist the urge to gently trace your sides with his hands.
It feels unreal, to be here, lying besides you on the same bed.
After a week of literal hell without you, Jungkook finally manages to gain your heart back last night, god knows what would’ve happened if he gave up and left when it started raining, instead of waiting for you to take him in?
He doesn’t even wanna imagine that, he shakes his head, he wants to stay in this moment with you forever instead.
He mentally promises himself to never fight with you again, no matter what the context is as he scoots over, and wraps his arms around your waist.
He pulls you towards himself until you’re pressed against his chest, you feel so warm on his skin, free from the weight of your clothes just as he is.
He leans in to press a kiss on your head, eyes closed as your silky hair brushes against the tip of his nose. It tickles him a little but as soon as the intoxicating smell of your shower gel fills in his lungs, he’s mesmerized, melting onto the sheets.
Oh right, you showered with him last night, now that he remembers.
After he came in his pants like a freaking teenager, you had no choice but to get him under the warm water and clean him up decently of course. He was too much of a mess to handle that himself, oh my god, he even started sobbing like a baby for you — ah fuck, this was definitely gonna haunt him forever.
You know what, he’s never gonna drink alcohol again, nope, never in a million years.
But lucky for him, you found tipsy Jungkook to be very adorable. So not only you bathed him like your baby, washing every inch of his body carefully, you also gave him the best head ever, all because he looked so pretty after crying and you couldn’t resist it.
Alright fine, maybe you were looking for excuses to have him inside your mouth, so what?
Jungkook can feel his cheeks burn with the vivid memories of your tongue wrapped around his length, he bites the inside of his cheeks to press down a moan, fuck, he’s getting hard.
Your skin feels like butter under his touch as he glides his hands up and down on your side, going over the curve of your waist, aka his favorite part of your body.
He literally worships the ratio you have, and thinks that it's mouth droppingly beautiful although you do not agree. Then he lowers his head, wanting to cover the area with his soft kisses and maybe a couple of pinkish lovebites.
You grumble once you feel the sting of his teeth, and roll onto your stomach, now laying on your face. He giggles, you're too cute even while sleeping, it's so endearing to watch.
But what’s even more endearing is your butt, and the fucking perfect shape of it. The way your cheeks jiggle as you toss and turn makes them look even better, Jungkook licks his lips, he wants to bite you now.
And not only that, he wants to bury his head right in the middle and nuzzle his nose, he wants to lick you and make you scream as he eats you out. He hisses at his own thoughts, wiping his drool from the corner of his lips.
One thing about Jungkook is that, he is a simple man. If he desires something, he simply has to achieve it, no matter how unhinged it may be.
Right now he wants your ass — he wants your pussy, and they’re right there in front of him, so he has no reason not to slither down and reach for them.
He hums with satisfaction the minute his tongue meets with your entrance, two big hands holding your buttcheeks spread apart as he works his wet muscle on your sensitive bundle of nerves.
He licks your hole throughly, letting your taste fill in his taste buds. The bittersweetness he feels manages to satisfy him, and so he smirks, diving his head into you back again.
He locks his arms right under your belly button and thus, pulls your hips more onto his face. It’s not an ideal position for him to be keep breathing but he doesn’t care, a little oxygen deficiency never killed nobody after all.
Once he starts poking the tip of his tongue in and out of your wetness rapidly, you being to wake up, wiggling from one side to the other under his weight confusedly.
Then, with your eyes remaining closed, you lift your head from your pillow, and call for your boyfriend, your morning voice being even raspier than his own, which is sort of embarrassing but he finds that cute.
You receive no response and for some weird reason, you can sense a tickling wetness down there — in between your legs. For a quick second, you suspect that you might have gotten your period but wait, it just finished last week so that doesn’t seem to be possible. Therefore, you decide to pay it no mind and try calling his name again. It’s probably just sweat.
“Kook? Where are you?”
This time you’re yelling, thinking he might be downstairs and as you do, your voice cracks, which amuses Jungkook and he snorts right against your entrance, making you wince.
“I’m right here babe.” he responds, landing a smack onto both of your cheeks. Ouch, it hurts.
You turn your face to the direction of his voice and there he is, smiling cheekily at you from behind you, his chin wet with your leaking arousal.
Oh, that explains the ticking feeling, you think.
His hair is messy, quite curly and cute, and his eyes are puffy, but as doe as always. His hands are placed on your hips, fondling your already reddened flesh.
It is clear that his aim is to leave it bruised and you want to ask him why, but before you can manage to utter out a single word, he turns back to his business, not exactly showing any interest in whatever you have to say.
He doesn’t like leaving things unfinished you know, nor does he like being interrupted.
And now that you’re awake, Jungkook doesn’t need to hold himself back or be gentle. He can finally devour you the way he’s been wanting for the past week, and return you the favor of sucking him off last night.
He might have been tipsy but he remembers everything — you did such a great job, by the way, he can not leave it unreturned.
Which is why he asks you to lift your hips up for him, so that he can work more efficiently with a better angle. You do as you were told, gaining a small praise in exchange.
Good girl, ah, it feels like forever since the last time he called you that. You feel butterflies in your stomach, thinking how unfair it is for him make you so weak without even needing to try.
But on the other hand, Jungkook can say the same thing for you.
All you’re doing right now is waiting, laying on your bed with your ass up in the air and he’s hard, trying not to moan at the sight before him. Your wet entrance literally winks at him in between your folds, and he doesn’t even stop to think for a second before reaching his fingers to touch you.
First, he’s gentle, rubbing small circles on your dripping heat, enjoying the cute whimpers that he earns in return from you. But then he wants to hear more, so he slips a finger inside — his index with the tiny crown tattoo.
He thrusts it in, and curls it on his way out. He repeats this movement a few more times and there, your weak cries, the breathless curses and pleadings that he loves to hear.
It’s only a single finger but you’re clenching way too hard, almost as if you’re tying to provoke him into adding another one inside you.
And since he has no reason not to do just that, he gladly lifts up his middle finger, then pushes it through your slit along with his other one.
Once he’s knuckles deep, the struggle you give to carry your weight on your knees becomes more obvious. You’re shaking, but that’s just the start.
To Jungkook, it’s undeniably amusing to watch you try your best to contain yourself, you’re so responsive, maybe even more than usual because of how much you’ve missed him these past days.
But what’s even better to witness is the way your back arches as soon as his hungry lips are attached to your core, and the way your legs try to desperately clamp around his head everytime he licks a little too close to your clit.
You’re withering already and it’s quite the sight to see, Jungkook can’t lie and say he doesn’t like how sensitive you are.
Because he loves it when you’re needy, oh, he loves it when you’re bold and shameless. Just like how you are right now while rutting your hips against his palm, brows frustratedly furrowed over how slow he works his hands inside you.
"Can't you go faster?" you sigh with exhaustion, adding a small please at the end of your sentence to be more convinving right after, "Please?"
Teasing you is fun for sure, but annoying you isn’t so he paces up, and starts going with just the speed you happen to crave. His tongue laps at your bud just right and you can swear you’re almost seeing the stars — ah, you’re so close to your high.
A little push is all you need to finish and Jungkook knows just what to do to get you there.
His ring finger comes to save you and grant you your long awaited climax as he pokes it in, finally reaching a thickness that would satisfy you.
Three fingers deep in your cunt yet it’s still not close to the feeling of his hard girth, you think to yourself, and gosh do you miss to be filled to the fullest by him.
You close your eyes and imagine his fingers as his dick instead. The thought has you rolling your eyes, you lick your lips and press your head onto your pillow to muffle out your moans.
The lewd noises that comes with every thrust of your boyfriend’s hands are already enough embarrassment to you, and what you want the least right now is to be even more louder than them.
Yet despite your hardest efforts, your body neglects the orders of your brain and as your release approaches, you start screaming, the broken cries that escapes from you crystals clear in his ears.
And Jungkook feels moved, blessed even as he watches you get hit by the pure wave of pleasure, your legs shaking right before his face as your sweet leak oozes out from your hole and drips onto his tongue.
He welcomes the free drink, and quenches his thirst from your body.
He helps you ride out your high and lets you grind on his face as he cleans you up with his tongue for as long as you need. Once you calm down, the effect of the adrenaline wears off and all your limbs turn stiff, leaving you collapsing onto your sheets.
He chuckles at your tired groans, he did all the work but you’re the one who’s tired? That doesn’t seem logical, but he lets you off the hook this once, since you’re too cute for his weak heart.
With his hands placed on each side of your waist, he trails his kisses from in between your legs to your shoulder, eventually to your neck before he stops and nuzzles his nose under the spot of your jaw.
“Get up sleepy head,” he then whispers in your ear, playful with his words, “it’s my turn to clean you up, and your turn to be the big baby this time.”
©jvngkooks on tumblr, do not plagiarize
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