#hot air fanfiction

[hyunsvngs]

𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐢𝐫 - seo changbin x gn!afab reader

wc: 6.3k

rating: 18+. MDNI

cw: sex with no strings attached, sexy changbin, changbin’s tummy (deserves a warning because it is so overwhelming), bin is cocky and cute, mentions of body hair, smut (specific warnings under the cut, minors please do not interact!)

synopsis: your situationship - the man of your dreams - gives you full, explicit permission to fuck his frat brothers in your effort of a hot bitch summer. who’s next, after you ruined your best friend in bed?

a/n: part three of the fratboy series, hot bitch summer!:D fratboy bin is on my mind… so sexy. also enjoy the build up of more lore in this one!! this part is really integral to the series :) 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: strength kink, size kink, public sex (they fuck in a gym room but it’s locked), pet names (little bunny), a LOT of dirty talk, fingering, spitting, a very brief blowjob, seo changbin has a THICK COCK like SO THICK, maybe d/s dynamics a bit? dom!bin then sub!bin at the end?, creampie, brief cockwarming

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Waking up in Minho’s bed after a night of unadulterated pleasure had become a regular occurrence in your life. The man just knew exactly how to push your buttons in exactly the right way, and you more often than not even found yourself staying over in his bed after parties too. Even slightly intoxicated, you had the best sex you’d ever had with him.

His words were still lingering on your mind, though. Could you truly tick off every member of the frat? The SKZ frat itself had only eight members, with frat president Chan being extremely selective in who he let join. Jisung and Changbin were allowed in because they all loved music production, with it being both Chan and Jisung’s major. Changbin simply had an affinity for it and had done it as a side course with his sports and exercise science degree.

Minho, you believed, had formed the fraternity with Chan initially, and he was elected vice president. Hyunjin and Felix were accepted instantly because of their involvement in Minho’s dance society. Jeongin was Minho’s adopted baby that he met through Felix, because the both of them played video games together regularly. Jeongin took it a lot less seriously than Felix did.

Interestingly, Seungmin was accepted because he was rumoured to be the author of the Gossip Girl-esque blog in the university, titled Hall of Fame. This fact had never been confirmed by Seungmin himself, but rumours ran rampant around the school. You often wondered if the anonymous posts were actually him, since they never seemed to include members of his frat. It was as if they’d been selective, only ever about people from other fraternities or sororities. You’d been lucky enough to not have one about you, and that got you thinking - you were a relatively well known figure on campus due to the people you choose to surround yourself with. If it was Seungmin, had you been excluded from the posts because you were friends with Jisung and Felix?

The smell of bacon and eggs wafted through the home into your nose and invaded your senses. You quite literally heard your stomach grumble, needing food after yet another long night of partying, and you stretched before pushing your legs off of the bed to stand up. They felt so weak these days, due to you being fucked by Minho so often. You didn’t even know how to remedy it. You sure as hell weren’t going to stop fucking him.

Hobbling downstairs slowly, you entered the kitchen to be met with the sound of Seungmin and Minho bickering. From what you could gather in your still slightly sleepy haze, Seungmin was angry because Minho had decided to cook for you, him and Jisung, and he refused to give Seungmin any. You blinked through the fog, feeling Jisung place his head on your shoulder. The touch was a welcome one, comforting and by your best friend. Felix sat next to Seungmin across from you, giggling at something Hyunjin had whispered into his ear. 

“Y/N, my baby,” Jisung chirped happily, rubbing his round cheek against your shoulder. You sighed, letting your head loll on top of his. “Good morning. How are you?” 

“Mm, I’ve felt better. My legs feel really weak and tired.”

Seungmin choked on a laugh while eating a spoonful of the bowl of cereal he’d had to make due to the fact Minho refused to cook for him. He pointed his spoon at you vindictively. “Maybe because you’re trying to fuck the whole frat?” A drop of milk dribbled off the end of the spoon and splashed back into the bowl, taunting and slow. Even the milk was roasting you.

It was Hyunjin’s turn to giggle. “Hey, they’re pretty. They’re allowed to fuck us all.”

You groaned, nuzzling your cheek against Jisung’s soft hair. Jeongin had since entered the room, hair sticking up everywhere and a loose t-shirt hanging off of his slender frame. He’d quickly thrown himself onto a chair and placed his head in Jisung’s lap. You noticed Minho adding extra bacon to the pan automatically upon Jeongin’s arrival. Seungmin looked like he was about to have a breakdown, shoving more Frosties into his mouth and chewing angrily. His eyes were narrowed at Minho, yet Minho didn’t even grace him with a glance, simply smirking to himself over the pan. 

Jisung carded his fingers through Jeongin’s hair, making Jeongin flutter his eyes shut and let out a pleased hum. “You know, you could go to Binnie. He works out a lot. He could stretch you out so your legs aren’t as weak.”

Binnie. Changbin. Stretching you out. Oh yeah. Now that sounded good. You turned to Minho, seeing him plating up four plates of food. 

Changbin was probably the man of your wet dreams if Minho didn’t exist. He was a beefcake, to put it simply. You often found yourself ogling his muscles in sleeveless shirts and wishing nothing more than to leave bite marks all over his tan skin. You wanted him to press his full weight to you, feel that delightful sexy fucking tummy against your back as he pounded you with his undeniably thick cock.

Going to the gym with Changbin sounded amazing. Minho brought the plates over quickly, sitting down on your other side. He looked at you, sending a subtle wink. “I think that sounds amazing. He’s coaching the weightlifting society tomorrow. You can grab him after practice.”

Oh, you planned on grabbing him alright.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You arrived at the training room Changbin was supposed to be in around ten minutes after his weightlifting class had been expected to end. It was the morning, sunlight glaring through the window. You’d dressed comfortably, tight gym leggings and a loose t-shirt adorning your figure and a simple pair of old trainers that had probably seen better days. They were stained with droplets of bright paint from the time you and Felix had tried to redecorate your room - it hadn’t gone well, and you’d actually been staring bemusedly at the random patches of different colours before you left the house.

He was situated on the bench press when you walked in, effortlessly pumping out reps of 50 kg as if it was nothing. He didn’t have a spotter, so this was clearly lightweight for him. You thought you could die, heart racing, just standing in the doorway and staring at him. He hadn’t even noticed you yet.

Once Changbin had re-racked the bar, he turned to you, blinking confusedly. It took him a second before a cute toothy smile appeared on his face. “Oh, Y/N! Hi! Sorry, I kinda lost track of time.”

“It’s okay, Changbin,” you smiled, walking further into the room. You made sure to close the door behind you, subtly locking it while he was retying his laces. He was wearing a tight black vest top, a face mask pulled down under his chin and his hair natural, dark and curly. His legs were clad in loose basketball shorts, showing off that he does, in fact, attend leg day. You were shamelessly ogling him, and he brought your attention back to his face with a laugh.

“Bin is fine, or even Binnie,” Changbin grinned. He stood up from his laces and clapped his hands together triumphantly. “Okay, so Sungie mentioned something about your legs. You wanna strengthen them, yeah?”

You blanched. Okay, so Jisung had told Changbin your purpose for being there, but had he told him why? You doubted Changbin would have no idea. He knew, but at least he was being friendly about it. Changbin ushered you over to a mat on the floor, and you obediently walked over to sit down cross-legged on it. He sat next to you, pulling the face mask off altogether and throwing it aside.

“Erm, yeah. I guess so. They’re just really, um, shaky? Weak? I’m not sure,” You mumbled, fingers smoothing down your leggings awkwardly. Could you have less finesse, ever? You’d been awkward with Minho, given he’d walked straight out of your wet dreams after plaguing them like a demon for months, but you surely didn’t have to be like that around Changbin. Changbin hummed, nodding at your explanation. “I don’t think weights would be best. Maybe I just need to-“ Be stretched out. “Stretch. I need to stretch.”

Changbin nodded. “Sounds good. Can I touch you?”

Please. “Yeah, of course.” 

He reached over, his hands pressing at your calves. His hands were wide, with thick, manly fingers that weren’t too long but looked like they’d be such a fucking good stretch. His fingertips were slightly calloused from the overuse of barbells. You wondered what he’d be like in bed - would he put his muscles to good use, pinning you down and making you take it, or would he let you take control like Jisung did?

You sighed, almost inaudibly. What the fuck was wrong with you?

“Okay,” Changbin mused. “They are kinda weak, I can feel it. The muscles are spasming when I touch them. Could you stand up, and touch your toes? It’s a yoga pose, I just wanna see how weak they actually are.”

Yoga? Okay. You had flashbacks to Felix trying to teach you how to do yoga, some random shit he’d learnt from Hyunjin. You’d both done one pose before falling over cackling. Standing up immediately, you bent over to touch your toes. He came behind you, humming again. You tried not to think about how he was now standing behind you, grabbing your hips to correct your position and making you arch your back a little. As if he was going to push into you from behind, slow and thick, quite literally stretching you out-

You were speaking before you could even control it. “Oh, fucking hell.” 

Changbin’s hands paused on your hips. A beat passed, and then two. Then he was laughing.

“Hey, did you seriously just come here because you wanted to tick me off of your sexy bucket list, or did you come here to actually fix your legs?” You shot up, turning around to face him. He put his hands on his hips, still letting out loud giggles. You couldn’t help but let out a scoff and laugh with him.

“Well. I actually do need help,” you rubbed your temples, still laughing in disbelief. Changbin shook his head, rolling his eyes playfully. “Hey, I’m serious!”

“No, no, I believe you. But you wanted to fuck me later, didn’t you?” Changbin accused, pointing a finger. “Maybe I will fuck you. You’re stretching first, though. Bending over for Minho so many times does horrible things to the body.”

You grinned, resuming your position of touching your toes. “Oh, you’d know, would you?”

Changbin flicked your thigh, still giggling slightly. “Shut up, would you? So fucking sassy, heh. I’m going to massage your legs now.”

You felt his hands pushing you into a position where you were laying down on your front. The strong hands on your back and right shoulder made your cunt pool with heat, but you tried to ignore it. Unsuccessfully, because you were instantly thinking of him manhandling you into other positions when you had finally pliantly dropped to the mat. When did you become like this? You were the horniest you’d ever been.

His strong palms began to knead against your calves. The feeling was delicious, actually - he knew what he was doing. You felt instantly relaxed, letting him ease the ache out of your muscles. When he moved up to your thighs though, you felt that incessant need in your core return and you wanted to scream in frustration. He was taking his time, working out every knot in your legs and you just laid there, arms crossed beneath your head for you to rest on. 

All of a sudden, Changbin’s hands were pushing up against the seam where your asscheek met your thigh. You jumped in surprise. “Huh?!”

Changbin smirked, that same cocky smirk you’d got earlier on. “Feeling tense here, you know? Better stretch you out.” You blinked. They’d definitely had a conversation, either him and Minho or him and Jisung - you weren’t sure which you’d prefer.

Fuck it. You squirmed onto your back, looking up at Changbin. He cocked an eyebrow at you, a mischievous smile still on his full lips. “You gonna fuck me now, Binnie?”

Changbin shook his head again, fondly. “You’re insatiable.”

“You love it.”

“Maybe I do,” he spoke, before diving down to capture your lips in his. He quickly had you pinned to the soft mat underneath you, tongue sliding across your bottom lip before caressing into your mouth with intricacy. You moaned, running your fingers through the soft curls on his head. You tried to wrap your legs around his slim waist, but he was quick to shift you, pressing your legs back into the mat with a firm hand. “No.”

“Thought you were gonna fuck me,” you pulled away from the kiss and huffed, hips squirming. Changbin looked appalled.

“I fucking am! Just- you’ll get hurt again. Your legs are sore, remember?” He pressed another peck to your lips, spreading your legs himself manually. He positioned in between them, a promising bulge pressing against your clothed pussy. 

You sighed with pleasure when he started rutting the bulge into you, kissing your neck softly. “There’s no sex position that won’t hurt my legs, Bin.”

“Mm, sure there is. I’ll show you.” 

Well, colour you intrigued. You gripped onto his biceps, fingernails digging into the large muscles when he pressed a kiss to the neckline of your t-shirt. You were quick to push him up slightly to rip your t-shirt off impatiently. He must’ve moved himself, because there was absolutely no chance you’d managed to shift a man of that stature with one hand. Your sports bra was very much less than sexy, and you screwed your face up with embarrassment when you remembered you were wearing it. Changbin didn’t seem to care, because with a quick movement behind your back the bra was unclipped and thrown to the side. 

He immediately latched onto one of your nipples, swirling his tongue around your areola. You whimpered, pushing your chest into his mouth. He hummed against the peaked bud before moving to the other one, using his thick fingers to tweak your already lathered with spit nipple. He was still rutting into you, although the movement had gone slightly lower with his ongoing mouth efforts. 

“Mm- Binnie, wanna see you too. Please.”

Changbin pulled back, his mouth wet with spit and his hair all messed up from your hands running through it with passion. He quickly shucked his vest top off, revealing a delightful set of sculpted pecs and a sexy fucking tummy. You wanted to clench your teeth into his tan skin and leave your mark there. This was made worse when you noticed the delectable looking snail trail of hair at the bottom of his tummy, leading down into something you needed to see very soon.

“Oh my God,” you murmured. Changbin tilted his head in confusion. “Your tits.”

Changbin burst out laughing, before clenching each one in a rhythm. You giggled, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and bringing him back down for another heated kiss. Your bare chests rubbed against each other, his full weight pressed against your frame to hold you down against the yoga mat. You whined into the kiss at the stimulation on your nipples, and he took the opportunity to push his tongue into your mouth in a filthy kiss of swapping spit. His biceps were curled around you, his body pressed tightly on top of you, almost crushing - but you loved it. He was just so much bigger than you.

“You like that, don’t you? Feeling me crushing you,” Changbin muttered into the kiss, stealing little pecks between each word. “I bet you’re fuckin’ soaking. Gonna let me take a look at your pussy, little bunny?”

You moaned, nodding, the pandering to your size kink making your brain blur with arousement. He was pulling off your trainers quickly then, yanking your gym leggings down and leaving your underwear covering your core. He groaned, pushing your legs open softly. You could feel the wet patch on your underwear, slick sticking the fabric back to your cunt everytime you moved. He was no doubt staring at it with lust when one of his hands went to palm his erection through his shorts. 

“Fucking hell, you liked that, didn’t you? You like me calling you my little bunny? You like being smaller than me?”

You nodded eagerly, squirming while he spoke. He was still staring at your pussy, wet patch expanding the more he’d spoken. “Take ‘em off, Binnie. Have a good look,” Changbin sighed, scrunching his eyes shut before nodding. He looked like he could barely control himself. Good. You didn’t want him to. 

His fingers were latching into your underwear then, pulling them down and revealing your pussy, folds sopping wet with your arousal. He gazed down at it, eyes blown wide with lust and his breathing heavy. 

“Fuckin’- Jesus,” Changbin swiped two fingers in between your folds, collecting slick on his fingers. He pushed them into his mouth, moaning at the taste. “So fucking sweet. Look at Binnie’s little bunny making a mess, huh? Do you want a taste?” 

You let your tongue loll out of your mouth, expecting him to push his fingers past your tongue. Instead, he crouched down quickly, swiping his tongue over your core in one thick swipe. He swirled the tip of his tongue around your clit quickly before he was moving just as quick back up to you, gripping your jaw between his thumb and index finger. You didn’t even have time to feel his plush, doll-like lips on your clit, which slightly disappointed you before you realised what he was doing.

Made to open your mouth wide like this, you moaned out unabashedly and loudly when Changbin let your arousal drip from his mouth and into yours. He was watching it enter your mouth. Before you could even swallow it, his tongue was back in your mouth, swiping around the wet cavern and trying to get more of the taste for himself. You let him kiss you for another few seconds, feeling him rutting into your now bare core as he whined into the kiss. He liked it dirty then, you mused.

You pulled away, trying to catch your breath. “Gimme,” you mumbled, thumbs hooking into his loose shorts to try and catch a glimpse at his erection. He pushed your hands away, mumbling incoherently about you being impatient. You huffed, shifting up onto your hands to watch as he pulled the two layers of fabric down altogether. Your jaw dropped. “Oh.”

Changbin looked at you cockily as you took in his length. It was shorter, not as long as Minho’s but he did make up for it more than enough in girth. You thought your jaw would break if you tried to suck him off, and you weren’t entirely sure your hand would even fit around it. Your pussy was going to cry. You wanted it so fucking badly.

A rivulet of precum was leaking from his flushed cockhead, travelling down the veiny shaft and landing in a pleasant thatch of curly, dark hair at the base, wetting the hair. His balls were heavy, full, and you wanted them in your mouth. You wanted it all in your mouth, actually, even if it would kill you trying.

“Pleased?” Changbin quipped. You looked back up at his stupid confident smirk, grabbing him by the wrist and throwing him on the mat beside you. It took all of your strength, but you managed it. He squeaked with surprise, but you ignored him. You were quick to push up onto your knees, shuffling down to be face to face with one of the best cocks you’d ever seen in your life. You needed it, right there in that gym, where you’d probably end up smelling like sweat from a different kind of workout. You were more than glad that you’d locked the door.

You stared at it. “This is going to kill my jaw.”

“You really don’t have to- oh God-“ Changbin was cut off by you sinking your wet mouth onto the tip of his cock. You could already feel the uncomfortable stretch on your jaw, but you were determined, suckling the precum into your mouth and swirling your tongue around the head like it was a lollipop. You let your spit dribble out of your mouth and onto his thick cock, feeling amused when he let out a loud, rather high-pitched moan.

Focusing on the cockhead, you let your tongue dip into his slit to swallow the tiny bit of precum that he’d blessed you with. He looked gorgeous, laying back against the mat with his thick thighs spread and a just-as-thick cock hanging between them. One arm was behind his head, massive biceps tensed as you stared up at him and swallowed the tip of his cock repeatedly. You wanted to see him ruined, but you had a feeling his cock was going to ruin you. His jaw was dropped, plush lips letting out deep sighs.

You tried to bob your head and get more of his dick in your mouth, but you were unsuccessful. It seemed it was just too fucking thick, and you were scrunching your face up in disappointment when you suckled on the cockhead one more time before pulling up. Pumping it absentmindedly, you stared up at Changbin. “Too thick.”

Changbin laughed, pulling you up to lay on top of him with ease. “‘S okay, little bunny. I want to take care of you, if that’s okay?” 

Well, how could you say no to that? You smiled, giving him a quick nod, and then you felt his finger reach down and press against your entrance. It was filling you before you knew it, his thick digit stretching your hole open. Eyes rolling back into your head, you moaned and writhed on top of him, grinding your clit into his tummy. 

“Bin- don’t need prep, fucking-!” He ignored you, pushing another finger in alongside the first one.

“Minho warned me you were impatient,” He scoffed, pumping his fingers steadily. He was scissoring them inside of you, trying to stretch your hole out further than it could possibly go. “I should’ve believed him. I don’t know if you saw, but my dick is really fucking thick. Little bunny can’t take it without prep, okay?”

You didn’t argue, like you had with Minho. You had argued with Minho and ended up feeling like your pussy was being split open by Minho’s thick cock, and Changbin was even thicker. Also, you knew that if you’d tried to argue he would’ve just laughed at you and told you not to argue with him, so being a brat was futile. Bouncing on his fingers, you resorted to trying to relax your hole and let it stretch enough to take him. Taking this dick may kill you, but you’d be damned if you didn’t try your fucking hardest.

Changbin cooed at you, brushing your hair out of your face with his free hand. “That’s promising, little bunny. You’re taking my fingers so well, huh? I think I’ll put a third one in, okay?”

“Mm, yeah, can take three,” Your eyes fluttered shut when yet another finger went up to your hole, pushing up slowly. He moaned when your pussy clenched tight around the three digits, not wanting to stretch further. He was no doubt imagining the tightness your cunt would give him when his cock got inside of it, and you couldn’t blame him - you were imagining the fucking stretch you were going to get. 

“I think I’ll curl them up, yeah? Just like this?” Changbin questioned you, curling his thick fingers up to reach your g-spot. You immediately keened, and Changbin giggled, continuing to hammer his fingertips into the spongy spot inside of you. “Oh, yeah, like that, huh? I know what you’re thinking. Will I make you cum before I fuck you?”

Well, you weren’t thinking anything, fucked dumb on his fingers - but now you were thinking that. Will he make you cum before he fucks you? You weren’t sure if you wanted to or not, being impatient and wanting his dick inside of you, but he seemed to be playing the long game. You bounced on his fingers again, wanting just a bit of stimulation on the bundle of nerves between your legs in a hope that you could cum quickly and get his dick inside you, like, yesterday.

“B-Bin, I need your cock, you can’t make me cum before, need it-”

Changbin let out an ear ringing laugh again, flipping you over so your ass was flat against the mat. He continued fucking his fingers into you immediately, thudding into your g-spot over and over in a fast rhythm. “I can, and I fucking will, little bunny,” You simply nodded, accepting your fate. “Nothing to make you relax like a world-shattering orgasm, right?”

You scoffed. “Well, I’m not gonna cum if you don’t touch my clit, Bin.” He stopped the movement of his fingers, staring at you with a nonchalant expression.

“I’m not going to touch your clit, and you are gonna cum. G-spot orgasm. Heard of it?”

You blinked. He didn’t mean…? “You’re gonna try to make me squirt?!”

Changbin shrugged, pinning one of your legs down to spread you wider. “You may not squirt, but it’ll feel really fucking good. Squirting is an added benefit for me, to be honest,” He looked cocky, a boyish smile on his face. Oh yeah, he liked it messy. You let out a squeak when his fingers started hammering into your g-spot again, fast and rough, making you want to squirm away from the pleasure. When you tried to, his hand was quick to push your hips back down and just make you take it. It didn’t feel like a dominant move, more a petty, playful move than anything, and you found yourself panting and your head rolling back onto the mat.

“Shit, I can’t, Bin,” You whined, fingernails digging into the mat. You were sure you’d leave little crescent moon shaped indents afterwards. You could feel yourself getting close, never having experienced such intense solo stimulation to your g-spot before - fingers could move in different ways to what a dick could. “Bin, Bin, Binnie- Bin, pleasepleaseplease, hnng-”

Changbin leaned next to you, kissing your neck softly. “No need to beg me, little bunny. Cum whenever you want.”

You gasped out, feeling his palm go to press down on your belly. It made the fingers feel even deeper, and before you knew it, your thighs were shaking in one of the best orgasms you’d ever had in your life. 

“That’s it, there you go,” Changbin whispered in your ear, his lips brushing against your ear. You didn’t think you were squirting, but Changbin was completely right, you’d never felt anything like this before. The ecstasy started at your pussy and felt like it was busting out all over your body, making your body shake and your eyes flutter shut. You were whining, moaning, possibly even close to screaming - all just from a few fingers. You came to, your chest flushed and your breathing heavy as you tried to calm down. Changbin was looking straight at you, smiling in that boyish way again and actually looking a bit bashful. “Do you, uh… do you still want more?”

Your eyes flickered down to his erection, still painfully thick and hard. His cockhead was red, leaking. “That’s not even a question, Bin. Gimme.”

Changbin giggled again, letting his fingers slide from your dripping hole. You grimaced at the loss, trying to move your legs back together, but you were shocked when Changbin grabbed you by the waist, lifting you up into his arms. 

“W-What? What are you-?”

He held onto your hips, waiting until your arms were wrapped around his neck securely to stand up. You were suddenly in the air, jaw still dropped while you stared at him in disbelief. He’d really just lifted you up like you were nothing. Your pussy was throbbing again. “Not using your legs, remember? I’m gonna hold you.”

“Y-You- oh.” You gasped when he was holding you close to him, letting one hand drop to position his cock at your entrance. You were being held up completely, one hand at the small of your back to hold you close and not let you fall while his other was finally allowing himself to have some release. Instead of pushing his dick in, his hands went back to your hips, staring into your eyes as he simply let you drop onto his cock, taking it in all at once. “Oh- oh shit, Changbin, it’s so fucking thick!”

Changbin simply grunted, giving you next to no time to adjust before he was grabbing your hips, bouncing you onto his cock. “G-Gonna just fucking use you like my little fucktoy. That… Is that okay, bunny?” He was struggling to get his words out, hands on your hips tightly while he moved you up and down on his cock. Your eyes rolled back into your head, fingers gripping onto his neck tightly. It was such a big fucking stretch, feeling like you were being ripped apart but you loved it, your hole leaking more slick the quicker he bounced you.

“Yeah, yeah, love it, fucking- use me like your fleshlight, Binnie,” You whined, letting your head drop into the crook of his neck. You could smell his sweat, the odour of manliness filling your senses and just proving to turn you on more. He was so manly, made up entirely of thick muscle and a thick fucking cock with a cheerful, loveable personality. The man fucking giggles, for God’s sake. You put your hands on his shoulders for purchase, trying to squirm to ride him yourself, but his tight grip was not one to be matched. 

“I’m not like Minho or Jisung, little bunny, I want to cum inside you and have you - fucking shit -  full of me,” Changbin groaned, pumping you quicker. You could feel his heavy balls slapping against your asscheeks, making you whine. You wish you’d got them in your mouth first. “C-Can I do that? Can I creampie this little pussy, get you to leak me out all day?”

You keened, nodding, eyes blurry. “Mm, yeah, want your cum Binnie. Gonna fill me up? Please, please,” You were babbling, feeling your cunt clench around him tighter at the mention of him filling you up with his cum. Thank God for birth control.

“Told you you don’t need to beg with me. You want me to cream inside of you? This pussy’s so tight, little bunny, it- it’ll be fucking- oh- overflowing, dripping out,” You clenched harder at that, eyes rolling back into your head. You were sure you were drooling on his shoulder. “So tight, so small. Feel so good around my cock, bunny. You’re so small, I can just pick you up like this and bounce you like a toy.”

“‘M not small, Binnie, you’re just fucking strong,” You whimpered. Changbin moaned loudly at this, walking you over to pin you against the wall. You could feel your back slide around on it with the sweat accumulating on your spine, but you really couldn’t give a fuck, focusing on the cock pistoning in and out of your dripping hole. His body against yours would keep you upright if you slid around, his chest nice and sturdy. “So strong, Binnie, shit- you’re so- your arms, your tits, fucking-”

“Yeah? Y-You like them?” Changbin asked, his biceps flexing with the effort of holding your hips up. His cock pumped steadily into you, him almost sounding insecure - you knew it was just the effect of the pleasure you were both feeling.

“Mm, love them. You’re so fucking sexy, Binnie, knew I had to have you,” You tightened your hand on his shoulder to let your other hand go down and rub your clit, rubbing steady circles around the small button. Changbin groaned, his head dropping forward, forehead pressing against yours to gaze down at you touching yourself. You let out loud moans and whines, feeling yourself get closer and closer to your peak. “Binnie, fuck- getting close, oh…”

Changbin nodded against your head, pulling your hips even closer to him to hit you deeper while he bounced you on his cock. You could feel the slick slide of his cock in and out of you, and he didn’t even look anything close to tired despite ramming you up and down on his cock for this long. He had some amazing stamina. “C’mon, pretty bunny. Cream all over my cock, c’mon. Feels good, yeah?”

“Yeah, f-feels so good, Binnie, ah-“ You jolted at a particularly hard thrust, fingers rubbing quicker against your bundle of nerves. “Yeah, yeah, gonna cum!”

“That’s it, you’re so- so fucking good for me. Binnie’s bunny is so good, h-huh? C’mon, let me feel you make a mess on my cock,” Your jaw dropped in a silent scream as your orgasm hit, making a mess of Changbin in a gushing orgasm. He moaned, encouraging you with little coos as you let the pleasure bloom from your pussy and all over your body. 

Changbin didn’t stop thrusting, something that alarmed you a bit, but you could handle it. You let him push you against the wall sharply and start to thrust into you instead, his hips moving on autopilot. You whined through the sensitivity, your walls still fluttering around him as he fucked up into your g-spot. 

You looked down at his cock stretching your hole, seeing the hair at the bottom of his tummy and his pubes wet with your juices. The sight was erotic, primal - it made you wonder if you could cum again. Without thinking too much into it, you dipped your fingers down to collect some of your cum that had amassed in the hair and pressed them into Changbin’s mouth.

He promptly keened into your mouth, tongue swirling around the digits. He let his jaw drop open, your wet fingers dropping out onto his chin. “Mm- gonna c-cum, please, please!” What was with these frat boys and begging you? You were still trying to ignore the sensitivity of your pussy and focus on the pleasure, but you nodded nonetheless.

“Yeah? Cum for me Binnie, come on. Breed me nice and full, yeah?” Changbin whined loudly, his head dropping to the crook of your neck. He was drooling all over your skin, pressing wet, messy kisses into your neck. All of a sudden, his hips halted, and you could feel a new warmth filling you up. He let out one singular whimper, his breath coming in heavy pants as he filled you up. 

You gripped his shoulders, letting him pull his head up to look at you. He gazed at you with watery eyes, before blinking at you and laughing in disbelief. “Jesus fucking Christ, bunny. Fuck!”

You giggled, fingers dancing over his skin affectionately. “Good?” Changbin rewarded you with a scoff, still keeping his arms around you. He carried you over to a bench and promptly sat down, his softening cock still inside you. It was rather comforting. 

“Good? I don’t think I’ve ever behaved like that in my life. I’m normally a bit… softer,” Changbin admitted, his cheeks burning. You cooed, squishing his cheeks in your fingers and making him swat your hands away. “Hey, no!”

“Sorry, Binnie. You’re just super cute.”

“Yeah, well…” He rubbed the back of his neck, timid and bashful. “Anyway, we should get you cleaned up and dressed. Minho’s gonna be here in about-“

A knock on the door interrupted you both, making you shoot up and off his lap. You clearly over judged your own stability though, because you immediately fell to the floor from how weak your legs were. You squeaked, face planting the ground.

Changbin burst out in hysterical giggles, barely managing to pull himself together to tug his boxers back on and go to unlock the door. You briefly wondered what was going on, why he was so ready to answer the door in so little clothes, and… had he said Minho was coming? Oh. The lock was slid open by Changbin’s deft fingers and then the door followed afterwards, opened just enough to allow a body to enter.

“Um. Are they okay? Did you kill them?” You looked up at the familiar voice, seeing Minho standing there in front of your eyes. You blinked.

“What… why are you here?” You managed to get out. Minho simply laughed mirthlessly. 

“Well, someone’s got to take responsibility for you and take you home when you’re fucked boneless, right?”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You laid on Minho’s chest later that day, watching some random anime on his laptop perched on his lap. You weren’t even paying attention, thoughts running rampant. “Minho, is it weird you’re… um, letting me fuck your frat brothers?”

“Letting is the right word,” Minho hummed, fingers scratching over your scalp softly. “You make me feel good. Who would I be to deny my brothers the same pleasure?”

You nodded. It made sense, you supposed. “Yeah. Okay, yeah. But… are we…?”

Minho was brief, a monotone statement. “No more questions. You know what we are.”

You blinked. You nodded again, turning your attention back to the screen.

Whatever you and Minho were, your situationship that you had going on, you were content for the time being. You got to fuck around, live your hot bitch summer, and then go home to the one you wanted the most.

What could be more perfect, really?

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

taglist: @moasworld @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @queenofthegardengnomes @boomfrogg @hoeinthehouse @msaddictions @sunnyhonie @hizliyuruyen @jyu037 @jouoy @drhsthl @seungincore @jellylver @veedoesntknaur @meloncremesoda @k-poplv @livieloo914 @fekixfmp @fawnpeaks @minnielvr @imastraykidsfan @hanjisung2023 @hoelynecujoh @kyrviu @sxgeofprohets @everydreams-penumbra @chaneomma @kkissreol @secretjj @phtogravi @princelingperfect @personawthai @dirah-h @straykids5star @luvhyux @chuuswifereal @stg110 @cookiesandmilfx @number1seungminstan @skzswife @starsandrqindrops @poody1608 @cutiespaghetti @hwa-0403 @i8rsie @kpopsstuffs @everyonehatesshani @han8ul @velentine143 @vixensss @cuddlehye @sheeshhhhfelixsworld @angeldhd @comicnerd557 @leeknowfz @imwithurmother @hrtsformin @maknae00 @teaholic @ficrecnctskz @tasteskz-sworld

#seo changbin smut #seo changbin x reader #juno’s fics ♡ #seo changbin fanfiction #seo changbin fic #hot bitch summer: need some air #hot bitch summer #stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids smut #skz smut #changbin fic #changbin smut #changbin x reader #changbin x you

[pearlparty]

Distraction

Note to self: never ask for a spot ever again.  Just die like a woman when you drop the bar. 

Pairing: Austin x Reader (no use of y/n)

Summary: Austin teases you at the gym and you get distracted from your workout.

Warnings: Language, innuendo, flirting, established relationship

Word Count: 2075 ish

Note: Breaking another impromptu indefinite hiatus to post lol. Based on this post/reblog to cure writer’s block. Lol I wrote this in like a day and a half and in an airport so take that for what you will. I just really like men sweating and grunting I’m sorry. Feedback is a writer’s life blood, so please tell me what sucks about this so I can improve!!

Austin had always gone to the gym with you. You’d go together, but usually stayed in your own lanes doing your own workouts, and then leave together.  The routine allowed some space to breathe and work individually—do things separately together. It happened organically for one reason: different desired routines. And that’s how it stayed for weeks, leaving each of you satisfied at the end of the hour and a half.

Today provided another reason for why separate workout routines proved more effective than working together. 

You’d walked in with the intention of setting a personal record on the squat rack.  You’d been working your way up for weeks.  Maybe you truly felt prepared to lift it, or perhaps it was the extra zing that the pre-workout put in your step, but either way you stepped up to the rack prepared to put your legs to the test.  The cute dark blue crop and legging combo probably gave you an extra boost, too. It did make your ass look good, after all, and that little “I’m sexy and I know it” boost worked like magic for motivation. 

Unfortunately, you didn’t see the way Austin’s eyes lingered a little too long when you put your jacket and bag into the locker. Maybe if you’d seen his eyes darken, you’d have caught onto his little game instead of being taken by surprise. 

Still, before you parted ways at the locker, you couldn’t help but admire the curves of his bare shoulders beneath his muscle tee. Such fond memories of those shoulders and the weights they occasionally carried: your niece when you went to the park weeks ago, the heavy cement bag for your parents’ backyard, your thighs—

You shook the thought from your head, and moved to the track to warm up. You’d moved closer to the weight section to do some warm up Bulgarian Split Squats when Austin called you over to his spot at one of the benches. 

“Babe,” he called out, “can I get a spot real quick?” The question fazed you a moment; he rarely asked for a spot, but you supposed that the empty gym deprived him of many other options. 

“Yeah,” you chirped as you rose from the mat. “Yeah, sure.” 

Austin positioned himself on the bench and prepped for his heavy set. You couldn't help but admire the way his muscles rippled beneath his skin, the determination etched on his face as he focused on the task at hand. The veins in his hands and forearms seemed to pulse as he gripped the bar, and a small part of you wished they were wrapped around your neck—

"Ready, babe?" His voice snapped you out of your reverie, and you quickly positioned herself at the end of the bench, ready to spot him. You cleared your throat. 

"Ready," you replied as you braced yourself for the weight that was about to come crashing down. He grinned but didn’t say anything. 

As Austin began his set, your eyes were drawn to the flex of his muscles, the strain evident in every movement. You couldn't tear your gaze away, mesmerized by the raw power and intensity he exuded with each repetition.

With each huff and grunt that escaped Austin’s lips, you felt a flush of heat rise to your cheeks. You tried to focus on the task at hand, on keeping him safe as he pushed himself to his limits, but you couldn't shake the feeling of arousal that pulsed through your veins.

As Austin finished his set and racked the bar, he flashed you a grin, his chest heaving with exertion. He rose from the bench breathing heavy, sweat dotting his brow. 

“Thank you, baby,” he murmured with a breath, voice low and husky as he gently pinched your chin between his thumb and knuckle. 

Your heart fluttered at the sight of him, mind filled with images of his sweaty body entwined in passion with yours. You swallowed hard, trying to push aside the thoughts that threatened to consume your mind you helped Austin re-rack the weights.

"Anytime," you replied, voice barely convincing nonchalance as you tried to quell the desire that burned within your chest—a desire slowly spreading throughout your extremities and to your lower belly. "Anytime." 

Walking back to your mat, your mind swirled with overwhelming amounts of filthy thoughts, and the reps got increasingly hard to count (which ended up being fine because working to failure is good for growth, but still). Those damn grunts? Every huff and breath of exertion? The small whimper that escaped his lips when he struggled momentarily to get the bar up on the last rep? All played on a continuous, horny loop in your head as you spent the next few minutes finishing the exercises before your squats. 

His damn blue muscle tee, his damn cap that couldn’t cover his pretty curls at the back of his head, his damn gray joggers, his damn water dripping down his chin as he chugged from his water bottle after a couple of sets on the lat pulldown machine that made his damn muscles flex and sweat collect on his damn collarbones. Damn him damn him damn him.  

A trip the the gym had supposed to clear your mind, not fill it with insufferable horny thoughts. How were you supposed to focus on the movements properly when he walked around looking like that?

And now you needed him to spot you during your squats. Lovely.

His gaze wandered to you in the mirror as he took another gulp of water. You waved him over.

He adjusted his earbuds and wiped his chin with the collar of his shirt as he approached you. “Hey, gorgeous. Need a spot?” Was his voice always so deep? I must be ovulating because this is not normal.  

“If you’re not busy? I wanna beat my record from a couple weeks ago,” you answered. 

“New PR, baby!” he whooped, clapping his hands together once to try to hype you up.  He likely mistook your distraction for nerves. Hell, you wished it was, not an aching need that pulled your attention away from your workout.

A nervous laugh left your chest, suddenly rather timid at the prospect of him being so close while you were trying to lift something seriously heavy.  You turned to face the mirror behind the rack—turn away from him directly but still see him behind you in the reflection.  Had you seriously never appreciated how he dwarfed you before?

Okay, enough, focus on the damn lift you horny simpleton, the sane part of your mind berated.  You pushed the thoughts aside and stepped under the bar.

“Ready?”  you tossed over your shoulder to him as he stood a few feet back.  

“You got this,” he affirmed.  You took a breath and lifted the bar off the rack and stepped back.  Austin put a close but reasonable distance between the two of you and looped his arms under yours, prepared to pull you back if you were to fall forward.  

Another breath, and then you went down.  Austin followed your movements and you let out a puff of air as you tried to push yourself back to the top.  

“C’mon, you got it,” he gently coaxed from behind you.  It wasn’t the typical motivating voice he used in the gym.  No, it was much softer, teetering on the edge of something—well, you weren’t sure you wanted to find out or you’d surely drop the bar and hurt both you and him.  If you hadn’t been balancing over 200lbs on your shoulders, you might have shot him a wide eyed look.  You came to the top of the position.  “Alright, that’s one.  Just seven more.”  His voice seemed to have some extra smoke in it today.  

A flush of warmth spread through your torso, tingling in your extremities that had no connection to the exertion of the second rep. His words lit a fire, spurring you on as you sank into the third. 

“Doin’ so good,” Austin murmured, his hot breath fanning down your neck. “Just like that.” 

Fuck off fuck off fuck off you hot bastard. He was doing it on purpose. Whether it was to get a rise out of you or provide some extra motivation, you didn’t know.

Down.  Up. Four. Focus. Five.

“You’re killing it. Just focus on that form.” You could have sworn his hand brushed the side of your waist. 

Six. A breath. Seven. The burn in your quads nearly made you question whether you could do another rep. You hissed out a sharp breath and braced yourself, legs wavering at the top of the rep for only a second. 

“Nearly there,” Austin continued, the same salacious insinuation lining his words. “Can ya gimme one more, baby?” 

A thrill shot down your spine, and your breath caught in your throat.  Damn him.

You finished the set, legs trembling slightly as you stepped back to re-rack the bar with a huff. You set your hands on your hips to suck in a well deserved breath. A stupid smile graced your lips as you realized that you’d accomplished your goal despite Austin’s distracting encouragement.  The burn in your legs slowly turned to a sweet jelly-like sensation. 

Austin approached the rack, going around to meet you toward the front, a smirk lining his perfect lips. “Feeling good?”

You nearly rolled your eyes at his double-entendre. “Yeah,” you snorted, as you stepped around to meet him. “Feelin’ grea—“ You stumbled, the jelly in your legs making your knees fold momentarily. 

Right into his strong arms. 

“Woah, now,” he chuckled, pulling you back up with his hands firmly on your back and ribs. “Careful there, Bambi.” That time, you did roll your eyes with a laugh as you steadied yourself once more, but not pulling away from him yet. “Don't hurt yourself.” 

“Oh please,” you flicked the brim of his hat, “I’m canceling my membership; you are too damn distracting.” You giggled as you pushed him away to walk to the equipment spray, throwing a little extra sway in your hips as you strutted away. The jig was up; no sense in trying to focus on something when it would all be for naught. You wanted to play this out. 

“Is that right?” He cocked an eyebrow, that permanent smirk etched onto his face. “So you didn’t like my extra motivation, hm?” He gripped the brim of his cap and flipped it around, giving you a more than adequate view of his triceps and biceps as he pressed it down in the back. You sucked in a breath. He knew how much you liked it when he put his hat on backwards.

“I blame the endorphins. I’m taking my business elsewhere so I can actually focus,” you quipped. You stepped to the rack, deliberately putting it between you and him as you sprayed down the bar.

“Hm. That’s fair, I guess.” He moved in closer, placing his hands on either side of the rack and leaning over the bar, his voice low and suggestive, “Guess we’ll just have to find other ways to work out together then.”

You cocked an eyebrow, allowing yourself a moment to shamelessly look him up and down as the tip of your tongue wet your bottom lip before you pulled it between your teeth. Your delicate fingers curled around the bar as you rested your chin on it. The smell of his sweat mixed with his cologne and nearly made your knees weak again. You tapped your right toe behind your left heel, enjoying his proximity and the innuendo in the air.

You hummed as the tension crackled between the two of you. “Whatayasay we cut this strength session short and go home for some cardio?”

His eyebrows raised and he chewed the inside of his cheek, glancing dangerously down to your lips. A low hum resonated in his chest. “I like the sound of that.” 

He shortened the distance between you, tantalizing movements to tempt you closer to his lips. And then, “Meet ya by the treadmills, baby,” he teased with a wink and then pulled away. 

—

And that’s how you figured out that if you worked out with Austin, you’d end up horny and skip the workout for another sweaty activity.

tag: @mrsniallhoran505

#austin butler #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler x reader #austin butler imagine #elvis 2022 #elvis presley #masters of the air #elvis film #mota #gale cleven #Austin x reader #austinbutler #austin fic #austin butler fic #austin butler x you #bikeriders #dune part 2 #Is it wrong to tag movies he’s in even if this isn’t about those? Lol #Idc he’s hot #I’ve fallen into the gym guy rabbit hole and I’m making it everyone’s problem

[xxanaduwrites]

OH GOOD GOD HE’S GORGEOUS 😍😍😍😍

#austin butler #austin butler fandom #austin butler fans #masters of the air #austin butler as major gale #austin butler masters of the air #he is one hot pilot holy smokes #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler fanfic

[laughingpinecone]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Püha ja õudne lõhn | Sacred and Terrible Air - Robert Kurvitz Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Ignus Nilsen & Ion Rodionov Characters: Ignus Nilsen, Ion Rodionov (PJÕL) Additional Tags: Implied/Referenced Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Time Shenanigans, Character Study, Vignette Summary:

Mourning in the lungs of Graad.

Under the dark cover of spruce trees, at the far end of Graad, where the isola’s grip on reality loosens at last, Ion Rodionov curls up against the undergrowth and spits out a single, stifled cry. Once that embarrassment is over and done with, he coughs and composes himself in the face of the great time; he breathes, and the totality of the pale breathes with him, beckoning from beyond the edge of the forest.

(Nine years ago, in a small, clean flat in Mirova, as clouds gather over the imperial palace, Ion Rodionov curls up against dark green wall tiles and lets out a single, stifled cry.

It is then that Ignus Nilsen knocks as is his custom, thrice in a hurry, always on the move, always chased by shadows, and lets himself in. If he takes stock of his comrade’s unbecoming countenance, if he notices an inexplicable, stubborn tear behind his glasses, Nilsen does not say. He offers small talk instead: an old paper referenced by one of his students, while outdated in its view of caloric, still presents glimpses of audacious insight and he would have the pleasure of discussing its potential. The mathematician nods along with the conversation, taking in every quirk of his friend’s dear voice, but his gaze remains fixed outside the window, past Mirova’s jagged roofs, past the heavy clouds, to the fixed light beyond.)

History ebbs and flows through the dark woods. Three hurried raps against bark alert him to Nilsen’s presence. Four thousand kilometres of exile since they fled the capital and the man looks like he has not allowed himself a single night of sleep and would be wrecked by guilt if, by fortuitous chance, rest ever came easy to him again. Four thousand kilometres of exile and he has not uttered Mazov’s name once. None of them have. What is there to say. What has ever been there to say. This demise was foretold in the twilight of antiquity. Time caught up, at last.

Ignus Nilsen wears his grief like a heavy shroud. He keeps his left hand open, as if to hold another’s, and offers no other contact to the world. When Rodionov, then, sees him joining him in this small secluded clearing, safe from the hubbub of their armies, he is certain that his friend is driven by some practical matter, be it an urgent question of logistics or any other topic where his input might be valued.

As the case may be, Ion Rodionov is rarely wrong about such matters. But there might be a trace of a tear behind his glasses, visible to keen eyes, a strange connection to a distant memory, and behind their backs, as the pale roars, reality falls into a shared memory of loss as old as mankind, the mold of all grief. Nilsen opens his mouth; he exhales a foggy, silvery breath. With its last whisper, he says: “You knew.”

“I knew,” says Rodionov, who is rarely wrong about most matters.

“You have always known.” His friend’s voice is too tired to be accusatory.

“I have always mourned. He will always have been.” He pauses and stares at the ground, as if fearing that even this nameless mention would be too heavy to bear. As if the ground itself could crack. “You understand.”

Nilsen shakes his head.

Rodionov stands straight to meet his gaze. Can’t he? Oh, not ideologically, not the Evangelist of the Revolution, he cannot budge. He never will. But he has to know, now, as loss carves barren paths through his body, as memories echo across this emptiness, that a neat and orderly flow of time is a fabrication, and a feeble one at that.

“Totality, Ignus. Joy, unmoored.”

“You dare speak of joy to me?”

“Should I cower? Dear friend! You spoke of joy boldly and fondly. You will again! And those words will have drawn from the same spring! Tap into it, now and forever. It is as real as it will always have been. As we met for the first time, I already stood here, in this clearing. As I stand here now, I sit with you and him in your living room, when everything was possible, and your thoughts and his are as sweet as ripe peaches. This peace is real. Ideas eternal!”

“Don’t.”

“Ignus.”

“Ion… you… put a great trust in your words.” These days, anybody else would meet his blade for such impertinence. Not the mathematician, whose words are guileless, as they both know, and who (again, as they both know) knows full well, to the second decimal place, how much he can get away with.

“I put great stock in truth.” “Surely not enough?”

“Beg pardon?” Nilsen closes his eyes beyond the dark lenses of his glasses. “This peace you advocate. How tender a prospect, comrade. How is it, then, that your head tilts as you speak, how is it that your gaze flees backwards, toward the border and the pale beyond? Do you seek comfort? Confirmation? You propose a truth that is not even good enough for you, Ion Rodionov?”

What it is, in fact, is out of grasp, ever so slightly. Even for him. There is such beauty in the unfolding of the end, such comfort in the eternity of their existence in that living room, where sweetest thoughts were shared. An eternity granted by its end. Yearning before it began. Laid at the feet of such magnificence, the sting of human loss should be infinitesimal, yet his memory remains sharp enough to take the air out of his lungs.

“The truth stands regardless of you and me. Conviction... is hard to come by, these days, and now and then fails to measure up.”

“Shoddy work. Find better stock.” Nilsen shrugs under the weight of his white cape. His shoulders are heavy, all comfort of the past left far behind. “And so shall I. Or what is left of us?”

The answer to that question is better left unsaid. They sit in silence for a while; deers grunt in the distance. Around them, the forest lives and whispers, at the far end of Graad, for as long as the world will last.

#hot entropolic summer #sacred and terrible air #Püha ja õudne lõhn #Ignus Nilsen #Ion Rodionov #fanfiction #walks out of 5 months of writer's block bruised and bloodied like you should see the word document #(it's empty) #seriously I eyeballed this at 300w and it ended up at a measly 1058? #what is this Elysium wordcount bloat for ANTS??? #gotta write more perhaps

[meegan420]

Butters and Kenny at the Carnival/Circus-South Paws

#south park #hamsters #kevin mccormick #leopold butters stotch #kenny mccormick #karen mccormick #south paws #my stuff #sp fanfiction #butters #sp kenny #sp karen #sp butters #Wendy and Bebe in the hot air balloon #sp wendy #my little pony

[sad-drake-lyrics]

talking to my friend @nahellet in the pro-ship discord like "you need to stop making me reread these panels because my ego is growing massively out of control at how accurately/much better i've portrayed these characters in my nezutan fic" like rereading this kanao scene and thinking about the monologue i gave her i'm like ... how did i slam dunk this like lebron it's lookin' like 5am in Toronto over here give these homies the look, the verse, and even the hook that's why every song sound like Drake featuring Drake

#honestly i am mostly hypomanic these days which could explain my self-esteem inflating like a hot air balloon but #i also AM that bitch #so #ficlife #my writing #fanfiction author #my fanfiction #nezutan #nezutan fic #tanjirou kamado #kamado tanjirou #tsuyuri kanao #kanao tsuyuri #S&H

[inksnake-literature]

They’re Just Muggles, Love. They Don’t Know Us.

James' blood was rushing in his ears, and his cheeks flushed in anticipation and embarrassment. He felt as if he were riding down to his vaults in Gringotts, balanced precariously high in the air, never knowing when the next drop would come.

This was the first time they would be so open, loving and carefree in their relationship. It was Valentine's Day, and James had meticulously planned for this day. Weeks had been spent plotting out the best paths and spells to use.

The weeks spent planning, scheming, and blackmailing were all worth the smile on his lover's face. It was a Hogsmeade weekend, and they were now on their way to The Three Broomsticks.

"The only Broomstick I'm interested in is yours." His lover had whispered as they entered.

They were lucky that Rosmerta had bought into James' amateurish attempts at blackmail; they would have been caught long ago by certain interested parties otherwise, James knew.

After a slightly awkward shuffling of floor travel, they stood on a soft rolling hill of green, simply watching as the muggles below fretted from here to there.

James knew Regulus had no idea what any of the brightly coloured contraptions were, and he enjoyed the soft look of intrigue in his lover's eyes.

Then, finally, it started. Fires were lit and the colourful materials swelled with the hot air produced. Soon baskets were floating gently above the ground as if someone had cast wingardium leviosa, still tethered to the ground as they were.

James heard Regulus' soft, disbelieving gasp when the Balloons and baskets rose into the air as if the people inside were weightless.

Regulus gripped his lover's hand tightly as the sky filled with hundreds of brightly coloured balloons. He had never known the full extent of a muggle's inventiveness until now.

"This is just the start of it all, my dear Reggie," James whispered as he dragged Regulus down the hill towards a still-anchored balloon with the letters 'JxR' printed in gold and silver lettering. The guide James had picked ushered them into the basket without hesitation, as if two men in robes were a common sight.

"They’re just muggles, love. They don’t know us." James muttered into his lover's ear as the balloon began to gently bob in the air.

#definitely influenced by the albuquerque international balloon fiesta #I just saw hot air balloons in the sky and thought it'd be a nice date idea #fanfiction #ao3 author #writing #archive of our own #gay fanfiction #fanfic writer #fanfic #yes the autor is projecting #jegulus #James has no idea that Rosmerta has a thing for forbidden romance #she's just a fangirl trying to get her ship to sail #just like me fr #A Broken Quill fanfic by moi #pure fluff #jegulus fluff #regulus black #james potter #established relationship #marauders era

[ugh-yoongi]

a word from our sponsors | knj

you’ve co-hosted a podcast with namjoon for three years; have known him even longer. the two of you have always been the picture of platonic, but that hasn’t stopped the internet from doing what the internet does. the shipping? a little weird at first, but you can understand it: two attractive twenty-somethings always in close proximity to one another, obvious (platonic!) chemistry—people have created ships for less. the fanfiction, though? also pretty funny… until you can’t stop thinking about it. 🎙️

pairing: namjoon x f. reader genre: podcast, friends to lovers au; crack, smut, fluff rating: explicit. minors do not interact. warnings: parasocial relationships galore, a m*n with a p*dcast, author abuses italics, swearing, alcohol, reader uses a pseudonym/nickname (piper) because writing the meta fanfiction scene would've been too weird without one and i refuse to use y/n, dialogue-heavy but it is a fic about a podcast, everyone is down horrendous, mentions of social media & fake r*ddit posts, ex-boyfriend yoongi but in a good, healthy way. let me know if i missed anything but mostly this is just two goofballs not realizing they're in love with one another. smut warnings: kissing, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, unprotected vaginal sex (fiction), protected vaginal sex (nonfiction), a lil squirting, mild degradation, mentions of a p*ss kink but there is no actual pee i promise (...lest?), i didn't intend to write size kink but it's namjoon so it just showed up anyway, slight dom!joon, everyone orgasms. wordcount: 17.5k credits: this was entirely inspired by that one episode of the basement yard where frankie reads the smut fic of him and joe, so credits to both that author and that podcast. spotify, for their podcast name generator. astro-seek for helping me drag namjoon astrologically. an extra special, gigantic thanks to @effortandmore for writing the meta fanfic (3k of it, no less!) and not batting an eye when i said it could have pee in it as a joke. this is as much yours as it is mine. finally, @hot-soop and @the-boy-meets-evil for reading this over for me and telling me i'm funny. author's note: happy birthday, indigo! here i am to validate every fear you've ever had that the people you write porn about may one day read it. live and on air. :)

You’ve co-hosted a podcast with Namjoon for three years.

You can learn a lot about a guy in that amount of time.

None of it is especially salacious. You know all about his family and his dog and the brand of recycled paper towels he insists on buying in bulk. You know what he’d written his grad school thesis on and what he’d looked like in the thick of it, when he was staving off his fifth mental break of the week. You know how fidgety he gets when it’s closing in on Friday night and he’s got a date—how much he stresses over which restaurant to pick, which cologne, which expensive cashmere sweater to wear.

You also know what the internet thinks about him. Intimately.

Kim Namjoon, according to the internet, is peak husband material. He has cheeks ripe for pinching and thighs small countries would go to war to defend. He has a lap that doubles as a seat and dimples people want to get baptized in. He has Instagram selfies with hundreds of thousands of likes and comment sections full of intelligible keysmashes, especially the ones he posts from the gym.

Kim Namjoon, according to the internet, is a man written by a woman.

Looking at him now, you aren’t sure that’s true, you think people just need to raise their standards. Namjoon is just… Namjoon. He’s intelligent and kind and up to date on modern feminist theory, is all. And, sure, maybe in the current political landscape that puts him far above the rest of men, but the way the internet has latched onto him is a little concerning.

“There’s another post about whether or not we’re dating,” you say, pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose.

sooo let’s be real here, we ALL think they’re dating, right?? Posted by u/pod-shipper 2 hours ago

Just like he always does, Namjoon huffs out a soft laugh, makes his way around to your side of the table. Puts his large hands on your shoulders as he leans in close to read from your screen, snorting every time he reads a sentence he finds particularly amusing. Whichever cologne he’d chosen this morning is, admittedly, very nice.

It’s sooo obvious, especially in the episodes they film and post on YouTube. The way they look at each other?? I don’t even look at my HUSBAND like that! (+1264) ↳ omg ur sooooo right! i could MAYBE buy that they aren’t full on dating, but they’ve def at least slept together. Namjoon is so 🔥🔥🔥 (+791) ↳ um how can namjoon be dating her when he’s already married to me 😌💅 (+3) ↳ For the millionth time, can we not speculate on their personal lives? This is weird and reinforces really harmful ideas that men and women can’t just be friends. (-51)

“How come they never talk about how hot you are?”

You can tell by the look on Namjoon’s face that he hadn’t meant to say that—or, if he did, he didn’t mean to say it like that, with an entire pout, eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline. “Cursed to be ugly and dumb,” you joke to ease the sudden tension, reading the comment that simply says you’d have to be the dumbest person alive to not sleep with Namjoon.

He scrunches his nose at that. Returns to his side of the table. “Yeah, I don’t think so, lots of people haven’t slept with me.” Starts to unpack all the gear from his bag before he says, “Hey, all that stuff—does it bother you?”

“What do you mean?” you answer, the corner of a protein bar stuck in your mouth. Namjoon always insists on recording at the most inconvenient times.

“People thinking we’re together,” he clarifies.

You shrug. “I dunno. Not really. Comes with the territory, I think, not to mention how much you love to overshare—”

“Hello?”

“I’m just saying,” you retort, hands raised in self-defense. “There really was no need for you to mention you blew your grad school stipend on a porn scam.” Namjoon looks affronted, like he can’t believe you’d stoop so low as to bring that up. “Or that you lost your virginity at fifteen.”

“We have a relationship podcast,” he states simply. “That’s kind of what we do, right? Talk about relationships? And the spectrum of human sexuality is part of that.”

You slump back in your chair as you quirk an eyebrow. “No one said it wasn’t, I just said you overshare. Which you do.”

“And that’s why there’s a dozen Reddit posts a week discussing whether or not we’re dating? Because I overshare?”

“Yeah, exactly. That’s the kind of behavior that leads to parasocial relationships. People latch onto that shit. Makes them think they’re your friend.” He glares. “Don’t give me that look, you know I’m right. It’s bad enough you’ve word-vomited all this highly personal information about yourself, but to not even do it under a pseudonym? It’s like you’re begging for trouble.”

Another comment he doesn’t even realize he’s making: “I don’t beg. For anything.”

To this day, you’re not sure why Namjoon asked you to co-host a podcast with him.

His reasoning had been simple: “You’re my best friend and we don’t agree on anything.” Hard to argue with that. Namjoon has seemingly endless patience, even in the face of things he shouldn’t entertain, and you… do not, to put it simply.

You’re not a cold person. Your fuse isn’t short. You’re just a little jaded, is all. Have far less propensity for bullshit than Namjoon does, so the two of you play well off each other. You end a sentence with a well-punctuated full stop and Namjoon’s right behind you to sigh and say maybe you shouldn’t be so hasty, not everything in the world can be so black or white.

Except some things are. Somewhere along the way, the podcast—which Namjoon had affectionately named Place Him Gently in the Garbage, even though some people should be shoved in there with force—had picked up a following. A big one. And now, every week, you’re inundated with emails ranging in severity. Sometimes people just want to vent after their tenth bad date in a row or share funny stories, and Namjoon lets you take the lead on those, but sometimes it’s a little more serious. That’s where Namjoon shines, all that endless patience, and people love him for it.

“What’s on the agenda today?” he asks, accepting a thick stack of papers from Jungkook.

Ah, Jungkook.

You aren’t sure what he actually does. Some kind of social media manager, which is obvious from the wildly out-of-context clips he posts of you to TikTok, and it’s his responsibility to go through the thousands of emails you get from listeners, but aside from that all you’ve got are your suspicions that he just sticks around to swindle Namjoon out of more and more money.

“I’m in a silly goofy mood,” comes Jungkook’s reply, and you let out a witch cackle as Namjoon winces. Nothing good ever comes of Jungkook being in a silly goofy mood, and that’s quite alright by you.

Fifteen minutes later finds you with a camera in your face that you greet with an unamused, flat stare. Jungkook is used to it by now. Just films for a few seconds before turning his attention to an unaware Namjoon. Head down, pen and highlighter going a mile a minute as he pores over the stack of papers with all the doggedness and eagle-eyed stare of a literature professor.

That’s the thing about Namjoon—he takes this really seriously. So do you, but not in the ways Namjoon does. He’s all skill and determination and you’re color commentary. It works. It clearly works, so you aren’t too bent out of shape about it, but sometimes you worry. Namjoon takes this really seriously and sometimes you worry that he takes it too seriously, that he carries the burdens and worries of all these strangers, that he’s trying to solve and fix things that aren’t his responsibility to solve and fix.

So he takes it really seriously and you don’t take it as seriously as you maybe should, and everything is by design. Balanced.

Twenty minutes later finds you staring across the table at Namjoon, who asks, “Are you ready?” and does one last equipment check before he launches into, “Welcome back to another episode of Place Him Gently in the Garbage with Namjoon and Piper. What’s new with you, Pipe? Any fun news?”

Pipe. It drives you nuts. Feels like nails on a chalkboard. “I see you almost every single day,” you respond dryly. “But for the sake of entertainment, I’m thinking about getting a cat.”

“A cat?” Namjoon parrots, and his eyebrows disappear beneath his fringe because he knows what that means.

You’ve co-hosted a podcast with Namjoon for three years, but you’ve known him even longer.

Since your first year of college, which is also when you met Yoongi. Yoongi, your ex. Yoongi, the person you’d been with for six years and had planned a life around. Yoongi, now one of your closest friends, because the two of you still love one another but no longer in that way, which is fine. But also—Yoongi, allergic to cats.

So, yeah. Namjoon knows what that means, and he has the good sense not to mention it. Unlike him, you’re intensely private and keep your cards close to your chest. Your listeners don’t even know your real name, let alone that you’d gone through a breakup a year ago.

“What kind of cat?” he continues, like his entire world hasn’t just been turned upside-down.

You shrug. “Eh, I don’t know. Probably one that’s been in the shelter a long time, I guess. I’m not too fussy, you know?”

“Right, a cat is a cat,” Namjoon says, thinking he’s done something. You and Jungkook gasp at the same time. “What? Why are you giving me that look?”

“Because that’s a fucked up thing to say! A cat is not just a cat. They have little personalities, just like people. You’ve got—”

“But you just said you’re not fussy,” he interjects. “And I know they have personalities and that you have to find one that suits your lifestyle! Like, you can’t have one of those really cool cats that likes to go kayaking and shit, it’d never work—”

“What does that mean? Why couldn’t I have a cool cat?”

“Hey, all you cool cats and kittens,” Namjoon mocks, and you can tell he thinks he’s done something again, but his impression falls flatter than flat. An awkward silence fills the studio. He coughs. “Anyway. Do you have pictures?”

“Yeah. I also have a list of candidates ranked by how cool their names are. Number five, Casserole.”

“That’s cute.”

“Mhm,” you agree, “but Casserole is a kitten, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that kind of responsibility.”

“They do say you should adopt kittens in pairs.”

“And that’s how they get you. You want one kitten and they talk you into two, and before you know it you’ve got, like, twelve cats. Number four, Party Girl.”

“Sick name.”

“Number three, Toddler.”

“Toddler?”

“Number two, Flat.”

“Just Flat? Understandable.”

“And, finally, number one: Human Torch.”

“Yoooo.” Namjoon laughs. “You have to adopt Human Torch. Let me see.” You pull up a picture on your phone and hand it over. “Okay, for our listeners—Human Torch is a young, male Domestic Short Hair. He has stripes. I don’t know what that’s called.”

“Tabby,” Jungkook chimes in.

“Jungkook says he’s a tabby. He’s cute. Adopt him.”

You return your phone to your pocket. “Maybe. I still think I want an older cat, but I’ll consider it. What about you, though? Any new dating horror stories to share?”

Ah, the dating horror stories. Your most dedicated shippers are convinced they’re fake, that Namjoon just makes them up on the spot to keep them off your trail. If only. Not in the if only they were fake and Namjoon and I were actually dating kind of way, but the holy shit one of my closest friends is a fucking disaster and it’s a little embarrassing kind of way.

“Not really,” he answers. “I’ve got a date this Friday, though. Trying to decide if dinner and a movie is too boring.”

“It’s a classic for a reason. What are you gonna see, My Big Fat Greek Wedding 3?”

“Three?” Namjoon emphasizes, truly sounding scandalized. “Since when are there three? I haven’t even seen one or two.”

“Okay, first of all, the original is a classic and it’s a crime you haven’t seen it.”

“And second of all?”

“There is no second of all. Repeat point one.”

He snorts. “I’m not gonna see that, anyway. Maybe the re-release of Howl’s Moving Castle.”

“Subbed or dubbed, though?”

“Are you trying to get me canceled?”

“Absolutely.”

“I like both,” he chickens out. “Now, let’s stop wasting time and get to the point of the show.”

“Talking about cats is a waste of time?”

“I—no, we’ve just got a lot on the agenda today.”

“Like what?”

“Well, there’s lots to talk about on the celebrity front—”

Namjoon loves this part. As esteemed and educated as he is, not even he is immune to good old celebrity gossip. (Inside him there are two wolves.) Lives for it. Texts you about it at all hours of the night. Sends you links to Reddit threads with hundreds of comments. Has more opinions on Celebrity Big Brother than he does on Ludwig Wittgenstein, sometimes, and when that’s the case you know you’re in for a long evening. You’ve never even seen an episode of Celebrity Big Brother.

But Namjoon loves it, so you’ve become fond of it by association. Reminds you a bit of Yoongi and his love for sports and sports anime.

“—one should we start with?”

“Whatever you want,” you answer, because you haven’t been paying a lick of attention and you aren’t sure it matters anyway. Namjoon can talk to a wall on a good day, but he’s an entirely different beast once mundane, innocuous celeb gossip gets involved.

And even though you hadn’t been paying attention, it seems like this was the right thing to say, because Namjoon smiles so wide his dimples crater his face. “Cool. Let’s start with Taryn Manning. Did you see that bizarre—”

“Who?”

“What?”

“Who is Taryn Manning?”

Namjoon looks a little dumbstruck. Even Jungkook’s arching an eyebrow at you. “Are you serious? She was in Orange is the New Black and Crossroads.”

“The Britney Spears movie?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Weird, okay. Continue.”

Your co-host shoots you a very pointed look. “I will, thanks. Anyway, she posted a video on social media talking about this affair she had with a married man. Like, she pulled over on the side of the road to record this. Said she can’t stand the man’s wife because she called her a quote-unquote lunatic.”

“I—huh, thought we weren’t supposed to say that anymore. Alright.”

“But wait, it gets even more bizarre. Listen to this quote—and this is direct. This is a direct quote from the video, I can’t stop thinking about it: ‘Don’t you ever threaten me when your husband came to me to get his butthole licked.’ Can you—”

“What? Namjoon, what in the fuck—”

“It’s crazy, right? She was gonna buy this guy a boat.”

“Namjoon, this is a family show, you can’t just talk about ass-eating unprompted.”

“No it’s not.”

“Well, you still shouldn’t talk about ass-eating unprompted. It’s unbecoming.”

“You’re unbecoming,” Namjoon fires back, because he can’t help it. The words are out of his mouth before he can think. “Sorry, that was out of line.”

You sigh. Know whatever look Jungkook is catching on his camera right now is exasperated and pointed, the corners of your mouth probably tugged up just a hint. “Unbecoming, like I said.” Namjoon scoffs. “Anyway, so this actress was gonna buy this married guy a boat and was eating his ass?”

“Yeah. Apparently it was her friend’s husband? They all went to a Taylor Swift concert together.”

“Jesus, this keeps getting worse. Big year for Hollywood cheaters.”

“It is, right? Cheaters and divorces. Something in the water, I guess.”

“I saw the astrology girlies saying a bunch of planets are in retrograde, so—”

“Can you explain that to me? Like, what does it mean for a planet to be in retrograde? Why is it causing divorces?”

“I don’t know, I’m not an astrology girlie. That’s why I said the astrology girlies. What are your big three, though?”

“What’s that?”

“Your sun, moon, and rising signs.”

“How do I find that out?”

“Ugh,” you intone, “don’t worry about it, I’ll do it myself. What time were you born?”

Namjoon rattles off a time.

You grab your laptop. Pull up the page, type in Namjoon’s date of birth and birthplace, and wait. Then you’re staring at a circle with a bunch of lines in it that also don’t make a lick of sense to you. You roll your lips to keep from laughing and school your voice into something deadly serious. “Bad news: it says you’re a virgin.”

“Virgo,” Namjoon corrects, not taking the bait. “I already knew that.”

You scroll a little further down the page. “Your moon is in Sagittarius. Oh god, listen to this, they’ve got you pegged: ‘The greatest need is to always search for something. In order to feel safe you need a philosophy or belief’—”

“Haaa, that’s not—”

“—’You need to have a goal or mission that gives your life meaning. Your faith must be voluntary and it is a paradox that fighting against dogmas may lead you to other dogmas.’ Yeah, that’s you.”

“That could apply to anyone,” he argues. “There are seven-billion people on this planet; I’d imagine a sizable amount of them would say that also describes them.”

“Hm, sounds like your faith in astrology is not yet voluntary. Did you know you’re a Scorpio rising?”

“No. I’m sure you’re gonna tell me all about it, though.”

You smile. “Correct. ‘People with Scorpio on the Ascendant need to fight against dark and destructive power in their life.’ Is that true?”

“Yeah, you’re the dark and destructive power. You keep sidetracking me and we need to get to the point of the podcast.” He grabs the stack of papers Jungkook had given him. Looks more highlighter than paper, if you’re being honest. “I guess Jungkook thought we needed a lighthearted kind of day.”

“That was nice of him, considering what he gave us last week. I guess we’re allowed to have faith in humanity today.”

To your left, Jungkook scoffs.

“Alright,” Namjoon starts, putting on his Very Serious Podcast Guy voice, “first up we’ve got a question from one of our listeners in Canada. It says, ‘Hi, Piper and Namjoon. I recently agreed to go on a blind date with a friend of a friend. She said he was a bit old-fashioned but really talked him up so I thought I was in good hands—and then he showed up to get me in a ‘67 GTO and exclusively referred to me as doll. He didn’t use my name once. I’m torn, because he was really nice and I had a good time otherwise, but this is weird, right? Should I see him agai—’”

“No,” you interject.

“Can I finish?”

“You don’t have to. This guy sounds greasy.”

Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose. “And why is that?”

“Ignoring the fact that this guy has arguably one of the lamest classic cars around, he didn’t use their name once? Not once, in all the time they spent together? That’s really disrespectful.”

“Some people are just pet name people,” Namjoon argues.

“With absolute strangers, though? It’s really giving the impression that he didn’t even know it, not to mention some people are uncomfortable with pet names. The whole shtick is super lame.”

“I agree it sounds a bit misguided, but—”

Ignoring Namjoon, you say, “Sorry you had to go on a date with the ghost of less-cool James Dean. Into the garbage he goes.”

And, just like he’s done a million times before, Namjoon rolls his eyes and says, “If you really like this guy and want to see him again, a bit of communication will go a long way. Tell him the pet name made you uncomfortable—if it did—and offer to pick him up for the next date. I don’t think he’s completely destined for the garbage, yet.”

“You’re just saying that because you don’t have a license. You probably think a 1967 Pontiac GTO is the pinnacle of romance. That’s probably like picking someone up on a Specialized Aethos to you, eh?”

“That’s a fifteen-thousand dollar bike, I’ll have you know.”

You groan. “Oh my god.”

Ep: #183 - Namjoon is a Virgin

I think Namjoon had the right idea on this one. Sure, the car can be considered lame, but I think a lot of men are deeply insecure and therefore overcompensate when it comes to dating. Women are hard to impress when they have unlimited options. You have to stand out, so I’m glad he advocated for him. Piper can come off like such a misandrist sometimes. (-649) ↳ just shut up bro namjoon would fuckin hate u (+204) ↳ Imagine caring about something like this when they’re getting a cat together 🙄 (+19)

You think about the cat thing for nearly a week.

Adopting a cat is certainly not the worst idea you’ve ever had, and truth be told it’s been a little lonely, living by yourself. No more Yoongi in your space; no more Holly. So, having a new little friend around might do you some good.

It’s just—

It’s a big commitment, and there’s also the dog sitting-shaped elephant in the room. Ending things on good terms means you’re still Yoongi’s second-choice sitter whenever he has to go out of town, and while you love Holly dearly (the two of you had adopted him together, after all), he’s a lot like his father in a lot of ways.

Should I get a cat, you type out, and it’s only been in Yoongi’s inbox a few seconds before the most unflattering picture you’ve ever taken of him is flashing across your screen.

“Are you dying?” you ask, because Yoongi doesn’t call you for much else.

And you already know what his response is going to be. “We’re all dying.”

“Lighten up, Yoongi. One might say being so existentially nihilistic before noon causes wrinkles.”

There’s a split-second pause. “It’s nine p.m.”

“Sure, but it’s before tomorrow’s noon, so it still counts.”

“Whatever. Listen, before you adopt that cat, I need a favor.”

“You going out of town again?”

“Yeah. Shouldn’t be long, though. A week at the most, five days if I’m lucky.”

“That’s fine, bring him over whenever. Yijeong’s busy?”

This pause is far, far longer. “No,” comes Yoongi’s eventual response, but it’s slow. Unsure. A two-letter word has never taken so long to say in the history of ever. “He’s, uh. Coming with me?”

Oh, you think. This is where your ex awkwardly and hesitantly breaks the news of his new relationship. You’ve known this day was coming, and this is what you get for staying friends with him. “This is a fanfiction plot,” you accuse. “Hot, mysterious man moves into a gaudy apartment complex after ending a long-term relationship and meets his equally-hot and mysterious neighbor and they fall in love.”

“I—that’s not—my apartment is not gaudy.”

“Yes it is. There’s a giant gold bust of a weird bird in the lobby.”

“Weird bird?” he parrots. “It’s a swan.”

“I see you’re not denying the in-love-with-your-neighbor accusations.”

“Am I on trial?” Yoongi retorts, and it’s such a Yoongi thing to say when what he means is, is this okay? He means, are we able to talk about this without it being weird? He means, I won’t ever say as much out loud, but your acceptance means a lot to me, and I’d like for you to give me this.

So you lower your voice and soften the edges because it’s not really something to joke about, and you say, “No, of course you’re not on trial,” and Yoongi knows what you mean. “And if you were, you'd get locked up for fifty years. You can’t lie for shit.”

There’s a beat of silence before he clears his throat, mutters a thanks that is so quiet you almost don’t catch it. “Send me pictures of the cats.”

Later on, once you’re freshly-showered and tucked into bed with a candle and a book (Eloge de l’amour by Alain Badiou at Namjoon’s insistence and request), your phone buzzes with a text from Yoongi—

Yoongi: toddler is a fucking hilarious name for a cat but so is flat Yoongi: it’s a tie for me You: Okay well pick one 🙄 Yoongi: yijeong says get both You: Both???? Is he paying my vet bills? Yoongi: kinda out of line to proposition him for money. flat is also good with dogs, js You: If he’s now being raised by you two, my perfect, well-behaved son is probably long gone. Does he even count as a dog anymore? Yoongi: me and yijeong both say fuck off Yoongi: holly too. he says he doesn’t miss you anymore and he’s not coming over now Yoongi has added Yijeong to the group Yoongi has changed the group name to #ThirdWheelChat Yijeong: Please don’t drag me into this. Also I did not say “fuck off” You have changed the group name to People Who Have Seen Yoongi Naked Yoongi: fuck you

You should’ve known something was going on with Jungkook, because it’d started like this:

(When you and Namjoon started the podcast three years ago, it was in the living room of his apartment.

Surrounded by books and plants. He loved to record in the afternoons back then—Namjoon loved to say it was because of his grad school schedule, but you’ve always suspected he just wanted to preen in the golden hour light, much like he’s doing now.

“Is this really necessary?” Jungkook whines from his spot on the couch. He’s already swindled Namjoon out of two bags of microwavable popcorn and three cans of sparkling water. “It’s a Saturday afternoon; I could be doing something so much more fun than this.”

Namjoon scoffs. “Are you saying this isn’t fun?”

“Yeah. It sucks, actually. This could’ve been an email.”

And because Namjoon is accomplished, mature, and absolutely incapable of not taking Jungkook’s bait, the space between his brows creases as he sends a murderous glare Jungkook’s way. “Stop eating my food, then. And drinking my drinks. And lounging on my couch like that—”

“I’m not lounging,” Jungkook argues.

“You’re manspreading all over the leather!”

“This is how I sit!”

“Well, knock it off! My couch is only for fun and people who think I’m fun!”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “So you fuck on it?”

“What?”

“What other fun things could you possibly do on a couch?”

Namjoon blinks. “Watch… watch a movie?”

Jungkook groans, throws himself backwards against the pillows as if he’s suffering a Victorian ailment. “Jesus. No wonder you can’t score a second date.”

“Okay, that was a little uncalled for. There are a ton of reasons a person might not want a second date, and no one is obligated to go out with me—”

“Uh-huh. Anyway—”

You clear your throat. Try to hide your own can of seltzer you’d taken from Namjoon’s fridge in the midst of his and Jungkook’s bickering. “Not trying to be rude, but I have an appointment at the shelter at three. If, y’know. You wouldn’t mind speeding this up a little.”

“Oh! Yeah, of course—”

“Oh, so you’ll speed this up for her but not—”

Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose. “She,” he begins, jerking his thumb in your direction, “isn’t needlessly complaining and actually has someplace to be.”)

It was just a quick little rendezvous in Namjoon’s living room to come up with a rough draft for the following month’s episodes. He couldn’t do it over text because he’d fallen down the steps at his office and landed on his ass on the corner of a step and his phone had been in his back pocket. Cracked clean in half. And he couldn’t do it over email because he—rightfully—knew Jungkook would ignore them because he has his inbox set up to send all of Namjoon’s personal emails to the trash.

But Jungkook holds onto things like that. Grudges. Loves to let Namjoon think bygones are bygones and pop up a few days later with some evil scheme. Hence:

“What is this?”

Jungkook smirks. Rocks back on his heels. “It’s fanfiction.”

“I can see that, but… why?”

This is where Jungkook shines: the ominous, cheshire cat grin; the aw, shucks demeanor that gaslights Namjoon into thinking Jungkook couldn’t possibly be fucking with him. “Well, you were having trouble coming up with ideas for episodes, and there’s an email in there from someone whose partner reads really expli—”

“Jungkook, this is fanfiction about me.”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you. Of all the weird shit you’ve seen on the internet (and there’s been a lot), fanfiction of people you know—your friends—was something you’d managed to escape. Probably by virtue of not knowing anyone famous enough to warrant fanfiction being written about them.

But you should’ve known. You really, really should’ve known.

“Oh my god?”

You’re not sure who says it. Could be you or Namjoon, but the sentiment is the same. He mouths a what the fuck at you that’s met with a shrug. You’re in uncharted territory now, too. “Where did you even find this?” you ask, taking the stack of papers from Namjoon. “And why did you print it out?”

“Because I’m going to track down whoever wrote it and get them to autograph it. Then I’m going to buy a nice frame and hang it on the wall behind him, so we never forget this historical moment in Place Him Gently in the Garbage lore.”

“It’s a podcast,” Namjoon deadpans, “how can it have lore? And how much lore can there possibly be?”

“It’s the internet,” you concede. “The lore possibilities are endless. Don’t tempt them.”

Jungkook nods sagely, well-versed in the degeneracy of the internet. “Yeah, that’s how you end up with shit like 4chan.”

“4chan? There’s Space Jam porn on there.”

As the youngest, all Jungkook can do is roll his eyes. “Sometimes explaining this shit to you feels like trying to teach old people how to rotate PDFs—”

Namjoon scoffs. “I’m not that bad. I know how to rotate a PDF.”

Wow, Jungkook mouths. “Anyway, back to the fanfiction—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Namjoon interjects. He looks at you. “It’s weird, right? Like, it’s weird that people have written this about us?”

About us.

Your scope of the world narrows to the size of a pinhead. It’d just been about Namjoon before. This is fanfiction about me, he’d said, and you hadn’t been included in that. Now it’s written about us and you’re included.

“I—what?”

“It’s about us,” Namjoon repeats.

Jungkook rolls his lips. “It’s about the two of you fucking, to be specific.”

“Can you not—”

“Fucking a lot,” Jungkook continues. “So much fucking.”

Namjoon looks at you, and it’s all you can do to keep from laughing. The look on his face is pure bewilderment, both that Jungkook has cooked up this idea and is hell-bent on executing it and that he remains employed. And maybe it’s a little bit of nerves, too, because neither of you are ignorant of the risks. Reading fanfiction about yourselves—about the two of you as a couple, specifically, or at least two people who have sex—is weird. Not something you can unread.

And maybe it’s because you’re so determined to not make it weird that you send Namjoon a cheeky, exaggerated wink, shrug your shoulders, and say, “I’ll need a couple drinks, but I’m down.”

Jungkook throws his head back and cackles wildly, and that look of bewilderment on Namjoon’s face morphs into something else. Trepidation, maybe; definitely disbelief, because sometimes he lets himself get swept away in Jungkook’s schemes, but it’s rare that you follow suit.

As Jungkook continues to laugh, you wonder if you should’ve said no.

Namjoon has two stipulations: the two of you have to film the episode completely alone, and he, too, needs to be a little drunk.

The latter? Piece of cake, considering Namjoon has become some sort of whiskey aficionado in recent years. His drinking is streamlined and to the point—he knows exactly how much and what to drink to get him where he wants to be. You can’t say he isn’t efficient.

The former, though? Borderline impossible. From the second Namjoon states his terms, Jungkook is having none of it. Argues that he’s the one who found the story and the one who cleared it with the author, so he deserves to witness the fruits of his labor.

“No,” Namjoon repeats for the nth time, “no way. I’ll barely be able to do this with just her, let alone both of you.”

And that—that doesn’t bother you, right? You force a laugh, because why would it bother you?

There are few secrets between you and Namjoon, except your respective sex lives have been staunchly off-limits. Namjoon could be a virgin for all you know, and as you study him—the way he keeps bobbing his leg, the slight shake in his hands—you wonder if that’s the reason he’s being so weird about this.

It’s just a story.

Fiction.

Most people don’t have to worry about someone writing stories about them fucking their friends. If they do, you reckon even less actually read them. So, sure, it’s a little strange, but people from all over the world send in stranger stuff all the time, don’t they? It’s literally the reason you’re in this predicament.

Eventually Jungkook agrees. His whining has gotten him nowhere, so he just throws up his hands. Posts a cryptic little “u guys won’t believe what the next patreon ep is lmao” that sends the internet into a frenzy. Doubles your Patreon numbers almost immediately, and both you and Namjoon do a good job of pretending the pressure isn’t overwhelming.

Jesus. You have to read explicit fanfiction about yourselves. On camera.

Namjoon gets caught up with work and isn’t available until the weekend, so you’re forced to sit with the nerves for a few days. Not too bad at first, but you’re nearly coming out of your skin by Thursday with the need to know. You’re well-versed in the world of fanfiction, but this is fanfiction about you: your name, your likeness, maybe even your personality.

What will they know of Namjoon, though?

Will they get it right, the way he looks with his jaw clenched? How impossibly deep his voice can go, both when it’s raspy with sleep and when he’s fully at ease? Will the Namjoon in the story be closer to the Namjoon you know, or the version of himself he presents to the public?

And you’ve known him a long time—long enough that there are few secrets between you, but you don’t know the most intimate parts. All the parts the internet loves to speculate on. All the little gaps that, apparently, need to be filled in by fanfiction.

Will they know what Namjoon looks like when he gets off?

No, you scold yourself, jerking awkwardly like you’ve been burned, and neither will you.

Because you are not going to think about this. Your thoughts are not going to go there. Namjoon is your friend, and you’ve listened to him scold an endless amount of men on the podcast for exactly this behavior. Sexualizing their friends. You’re not going to do it, too.

Maybe that’s why you’re kind of seeing double when it comes time to record. Namjoon needed an extra shot and offered you one as well. You’d necked it without a second thought and now you’re here, trying to ignore the slight tilt of the room as Namjoon adjusts the camera.

“How’s the shot look?” he asks, gesturing vaguely behind him at his laptop screen because Jungkook had refused to lend you his fancy cameras if he wasn’t allowed to be involved.

It’s a completely normal question.

It’s a question you’ve asked and answered a million times.

Except—there’s something horribly distracting about Namjoon in this moment. The outline of his back muscles through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. The way the sleeves are tight around his biceps. He’s always been a gym rat, always carries around a protein shake that smells and looks completely foul, but you can’t remember it ever being this obvious.

And you take too long to answer, because Namjoon straightens up just enough to send you a concerned look. Which does not help. You are not imagining what else might cause his brows to pinch like that, what might have his lips parting, have sweat dotting his hairline.

You swallow. Hard.

“Looks fine,” you manage to say. He’s still staring. Are you on fire? You feel like you’re on fire, which would make sense. Would explain Namjoon’s sweating and concerned stare and the fact that he cannot stop staring at you. “Maybe a tiny bit to the right if we’re being picky,” you tack on, hoping it’ll break whatever spell the two of you are ensnared in.

It works. “To the—the right, yeah, makes sense,” he rambles.

He moves it an inch to the left.

—

Things are tense, to say the least.

Recording hasn’t been this awkward since your first episode, or maybe ever. You’re sat across from one another like you always are, and usually Namjoon would be making quip after quip by now, talking endlessly until Jungkook shushed him long enough to get the intro filmed. Now, there’s just silence.

“Should we…?” Namjoon startles. Bangs his knee on the underside of the table and drops a string of curses. “Sorry, are you—”

“I’m fine,” he says, cutting you off. He gestures vaguely toward the camera. “I’ll just… yeah.”

Showtime.

You wipe your hands on your jeans, unsure of when they got so damp. Unsure of when you’d grown so nervous, too, because you’d been fine an hour ago. Had strolled in with two cups of tea and a little too much confidence, giddy at what you were about to do.

Maybe the nerves had shown up alongside the alcohol. This sounds reasonable, and you do not, under any circumstance or for any reason, think about Namjoon’s back. Or his biceps.

Namjoon makes it through the intro, dimples deep and wide as he smiles, and you also don’t think about the way his voice cracks and gets a little breathy when he introduces you. It’s only because he’d been drinking, and the flush on his cheeks attests to that. The same flush that creeps down his neck, still a little sweaty; disappears beneath the hemline of his shirt.

“—Jungkook had. Right, Piper?”

Now it’s your turn to startle, and there’s not much you can do to hide the obvious except ask Namjoon to redo the shot. Because it’s bad enough the internet already overanalyzes every move you make, every word choice, every instance you’ve stared at Namjoon a second longer than they thought you would—this is a blatant display of… affectedness.

“Sorry,” you say, “I wasn't paying attention. Can we redo it?”

You’re expecting a playful scolding. A ha ha, get it together, because that’s what you usually get. But there’s nothing aside from Namjoon studying you and nodding. Asking if you’re okay. Saying, “Is this—this is weird, right? Is it too weird? Maybe we shouldn’t—”

An out. Namjoon is giving you an out, and you should take it, you know you should take it, so there’s absolutely no reason at all you shake your head and say, “No, no, it’s fine! I think I’m just a little, uh. Drunk?”

“Are you sure? We can—”

“It’s fine, Joon,” you insist. “Besides, it’ll be good content, right?”

“Good content,” he parrots. “Yeah, for sure.” He fidgets in his seat, runs his hands down the span of his thighs. Very, very thick thighs. “I’ll grab us some water.”

You faceplant onto the table as soon as he’s out of the room. When did his thighs get so thick?

But the water helps. Cures whatever strange, insatiable thirst has come over you, because you feel much more human after a few glasses. Less drunk, too, which makes sense. Yoongi could barely escape your drunken, horny wrath when the two of you were together, so you chalk it up to a Pavlovian response.

Namjoon does the intro again. Introduces you strong and steady, not a hint of nerves, and explains, with a fresh blush taking over his upper body, what the episode’s going to be about. “Someone wrote fanfiction about us,” he says, scratching at the back of his neck. “It’s, uh, pretty explicit. Jungkook thought it’d be funny if we read it.”

You snort. “He might get fired, depending on how this goes.”

“He should get fired regardless,” Namjoon deadpans. “Anyway, we have permission from the author to read this so don’t come after us, and, as always, we’ll put all the credits in the video description.”

“Special shoutout to Jungkook, though, who was not allowed to be here with us for this momentous occasion.”

Namjoon laughs. “I’m sure he’s having plenty of fun at home.” You both pause. “That’s not—I’m not implying anything with that! I just meant—you know, like. He’s hanging out and enjoying his day off.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Moving on. I have two copies of this. Do you want your own?”

You grin, wicked and wide. “Nah, just read it to me.”

“Making me do all the work,” he huffs. “Typical.”

“There’s a stack of papers in front of you that might say otherwise.”

It’s clear you catch him off-guard. He cocks an eyebrow, opens and shuts his mouth a few times like a goldfish. An obvious question sits on the tip of his tongue: You think you’d be in charge? Instead he coughs, jerks his head to the side, and says, “I guess we’ll see.”

It sounds like a challenge.

Thirty seconds is all you get before Namjoon’s shuffling his stack of papers and clearing his throat. Asking if you’re ready and jumping right into it once you say you are. Reads the first few lines like they’re some old lecture notes, and they’re conservative and safe-for-work enough that you start to relax.

And then Namjoon reads, “A louder one wonders if Namjoon is a pet name person—if he’d call her ‘honey,’ or ‘gummy bear,’ ‘babe,’ or ‘baby,’” and you choke.

“Gummy bear?”

Namjoon laughs along with you—the weird one that almost sounds like a dog panting. “You want me to call you gummy bear?”

“I want you to call me a Lyft,” you snark. “I’m leaving.”

He continues:

And that’s how it starts, wandering thoughts, wandering fingers—the first time Piper comes to the thought of Namjoon calling her baby, pushing inside her, showing her that he definitely doesn’t beg, but she does… Well, she’s a little ashamed. She’s apparently got a reputation to maintain, anyway, not to mention a friendship.

His eyes leave the paper and lock onto you. “Or maybe you’d prefer baby?”

“Fuck off.”

Weeks after that first time, it’s become a habit, thinking about Namjoon as something more than a friend. It’s confusing and a little mortifying and it’s starting to affect her in ways she hadn’t expected. When they record, she feels fidgety—she’s jumpy when he gets close, has all the stupid obvious tells of an unwanted crush: her breath hitches when he whispers (why the fuck is he whispering in her ear, anyway? Doesn’t he know what that does to a person?) inside jokes to her so Jungkook can’t hear, her heart rate spikes when their fingers accidentally brush, she feels itchy and hot and a little embarrassed whenever he holds eye contact with her. It’s terrible, and it’s only made worse by the way he’s doing all of those things more than usual. Or, at least she thinks he is, thinks she’s not imagining the way his eyes linger on her more than she can remember happening before or the way she’s caught him staring at her lips when she chews on the end of her pencil mindlessly. 

You’ve completely forgotten how to breathe.

Namjoon’s staring again. You need to salvage this. He’s only on paragraph three and you’re already squirming in your chair and imagining things that are not appropriate. So you roll your lips, return his teasing. “Well? Do you stare at my lips?”

It works. “No,” he scowls.

“You sure?” you joke, morphing your face into something half-pout, half-duck face.

“We’re never gonna finish this if you keep making comments.”

“You started it,” you point out. “Go on, then.”

There’s some dialogue. Some prose that hits way too close to home, has you wondering who on earth wrote this and how they plucked every single thought from deep within your psyche. A pang of fear that maybe you haven’t been as subtle as you’d thought all these years. A moment to confirm to yourself that, no, you haven’t been harboring a secret, deeply-buried crush on Namjoon.

Then he reads—

And then he kisses her. It’s greedy and hot, his lips like a branding iron. She moans a little against her better judgment when he licks at the seam of her mouth, and in return, she can feel Namjoon’s lips curve into a smile against her own. It’s better than she’d been imagining it, really. He’s a good kisser—firm at the right times, soft when she needs it, careful but not cautious. He holds her jaw with one hand and keeps her right where he wants her beneath him (as if she’d want to move, anyway).  When their lips finally part, he rests his forehead on hers. It’s intimate in a way she hadn’t expected, and he looks at her as if she’s the answer to every question. Finally, he whispers, “What’re we doing, Piper?” His lips are still wet and pink and a little swollen from kissing, and she barely hears the question—she’s too busy thinking about kissing him again, about pulling his plump bottom lip between her teeth, teasing and…  “Kissing,” she says finally.  “What do you want?” he asks, sinking to his knees in front of her. And if that alone isn’t an answer to his question… “Whatever you’re willing to give,” she replies. It feels like she’s wanted this forever, this and so much more. Once she got the idea in her head, it’s hard to know if she ever felt differently, ever truly thought they could just be friends. Or, if in the back of her mind, in the dark corners that she never lets see daylight, she always knew she wanted Namjoon. Always knew she loved him.

—and everything goes right out the fucking window.

Namjoon sits with those words for a moment. Scans the paper in his hands and frowns a little when he confirms what you already know. “The rest is, uh. Porn.”

“That is why we’re here.”

“Last chance to back out.”

“I’m not scared,” you lie. “Are you? You’re the one who keeps stalling.”

He huffs. “You’re a pain in my ass,” he retorts, and then nothing is all that funny anymore.

Because Namjoon was right: the rest is straight-up porn. He’s barely able to read the part where he goes down on you with a straight face, turning a deep shade of crimson. Stutters through the part where you pull his hair, and that is not something you needed to know about your friend. You think he loses his grasp of language entirely when he reads, “When he slides a long finger into her and brushes past her most sensitive spot, she arches into him and lets his name fall from her lips in a soft cry. Piper, notorious skeptic, is a babbling, trembling mess as she gets closer to her orgasm,” because all the words are garbled together, producing nothing but gibberish. You think he’s ready to keel over and die when he reads, “Namjoon pulls away briefly, lips slick with her juices, and licks over his top one, pausing to tell her how good she tastes before he dives back in.”

“That was nice of them to include. I appreciate their attention to detail in regards to my personal hygiene.”

“This is so embarrassing,” he whines.

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “Gimme. I’ll finish it.” He hands over the papers immediately.

Except you regret it immediately. The words you’re staring at are not words you ever thought you’d read or recite in your entire life. Not even for a million dollars. “Oh,” you say instead.

“See? Not as easy as it looks.”

“This is really embarrassing,” you confirm. “I might need another shot.”

“Y-yeah. Alcohol sounds good.”

Namjoon staggers forward obligingly, looks completely fucked out and pliant, willing to do whatever she asks. She remembers the sounds he made when she pulled his hair, wonders if he likes being bossed around, if he wants her to tell him what to do, to be a little mean to him. Maybe it’s different from her dreams, maybe he will beg her. She wants him so badly, she’d do anything for him. So, she pulls his briefs down to expose his absurdly large member, already mostly hard, and slaps it. Gently at first to see how he’ll react, and when he shudders and jerks his hips, she does it again, a little harder. “Look at you,” she whispers, “such a needy boy.”  He whimpers at that, eyes pleading. “Please, Piper…” he whines.   “Please what?” “Please let me fuck you,” he begs. She wants to, wants him so much, wants to feel him stretch her open, and from the looks of his cock, thick and long and drooling with precum, he could. “Should I?” she asks. She musters all her confidence to keep the condescending tone up. It feels wrong given how desperate she is to get him inside her, but it also seems to be getting him worked up and equally as desperate. “Do you even know what to do with that big, stupid cock?”  Namjoon’s cock twitches, and he begs, “I—I’ll fuck you so good, Piper…. I know how, I promise. Just… please?”

“Oh my god,” the two of you say in unison.

You so badly want to ask if this is biographical. How Namjoon feels about a little degradation; what he’d do if someone actually called his cock stupid. Ifsomeone has called his cock stupid. You dare a glance at him and conclude that someone’s had to. Namjoon just has that kind of energy.

But you can’t ask because it’d be weird, so you keep reading.

“How do you want me?” she asks softly when their lips part. There’s a wild look in his eyes, like he’s processing all the possible options out of everything he’s considered. And then it occurs to her. “Have you imagined this before? Thought about how you’d fuck me?” she teases him as she stands, stepping into him. Piper pushes one hand through his hair, brushing it back off of his forehead and wraps her other around his dick, squeezing a little for emphasis on her words. “Yes,” he groans as she strokes him, thumbing at the head of his cock. “Tell me what you want, then. Want me on all fours for you? Want me to show you how it’s done, to let you lay back and ride you so you don’t have to put in any work?” Namjoon’s breathing is getting heavy, pupils blown wider with each suggestion. 

“I told you!” you shriek, laughing in between the words. “I told you I’d…” And then your gloating tapers off, because what happens next has your brain malfunctioning.

“All of that,” he whines as she lets go of his hair and brings her hand down to run a fingertip over his perineum. “Want all of that. Want to bend you over the table and fuck you right here. Hear your sounds in the microphone.” Even in her dirtiest thoughts about him, she hadn’t considered the microphone, hadn’t considered recording it. When she thinks about it though, it makes sense. Namjoon is exactly the kind of person that would get off to someone’s voice. So, she does. She makes a show of turning around and slowly bending over the table, sliding her upper body across it carefully until she can reach her microphone and turn it on. When she says into it, “What’re you waiting for?” she sees over her shoulder the way that Namjoon shivers.

This is… not good. You’re never going to be able to look at a microphone the same way, which is extremely not good for a person who supplements their income with a very popular podcast that requires them to speak into a microphone for extended periods of time.

This is very, very bad.

Namjoon must be thinking the same, because he lets out a strangled a-haaa that’s less of a laugh and more a plea to God, the gods, the entire gamut of higher powers that might be able to save him. No one’s going to, you think, staring down at the paper again. This godless piece of fanfiction will be preserved on the internet forever, will be seared into your mind forever, and no amount of praying is going to erase it.

“I should, uh. Just read the rest, yeah? Get it over with?”

“Mhm. Yep. Yes, please.”

Don’t say please, you almost say. You can’t take it; not after what you’ve just read.

So you put on a show. Steel your expression and your nerves and take it seriously. Use voices and sound effects and desperately try to stave off the awkwardness you know is inevitable because a smut fic is probably only going to end one way, and that’s with you acting out Namjoon having an orgasm.

Maybe you’ll have another one, too, if the author is nice.

It’s sweet, she thinks, the way he’s easy for her, takes his time with her. Strokes his fingertips along her sides and kisses the back of her neck reverently. As much as she loves it, part of her hopes he’s not always like this—hopes he’ll give as good as he takes, hopes he’ll put her in her place. She can feel his cock hard against the cleft of her ass, not even inside her yet, and still, she thinks about next time and the time after that. “Still okay?” He breathes into her ear as his tip rubs against her cunt.  “Yeah—want you, Joon.”  “Never thought I’d hear you say those words.”  “I never thought you’d record them,” she teases, eyes glancing up to the flashing light showing the mic picking up all of this as he starts his slow slide into her.  Piper falls even further forward when he bottoms out, letting her forehead rest on the table. He’s whispering filth in her ear, about how he has something to prove, how she’ll never want anyone after this, how no one can fuck her the way he does.  She hates that he’s right.  Each stroke brings a new sensation: sparklers, butterflies, nerve endings on fire as he fucks into her and licks and sucks at her neck, her shoulders, her ear. Piper can’t even think, and this is what people mean when they talk about being fucked stupid, she decides.  It’s perfect.  Every time she thinks she’s getting close again, he changes something: fucks her a little shallower, moves his hips just a little, slows down, speeds up… It’s driving her crazy.  “Come on,” she whines. “I’m so close…” At least she can tell he is, too. No longer able to sustain the dirty talk, he’s breathing heavily, letting out broken moans and sighs of her name. He’s moving rhythmically now, thrusts consistently faster.  “Oh, fuck, Piper,” he groans, “Gonna cum.” One of his hands finds her clit and he rubs careful circles over her, bringing her to her peak along with him, no more teasing.  When she comes, it’s with a loud moan into the studio mic, and that seems to be what tips Namjoon over the edge, too. His hips stutter into hers as he comes, her cunt clenching around him for what feels like forever.

You deserve an award, you think. An Oscar. You didn’t even groan when you had to read the word “cunt,” and that’s a feat in and of itself.

“Is it over?” Namjoon asks, words muffled by the hands covering his face.

“Not quite,” you answer. “There’s some aftercare, and at the end you ask if I’ll piss on you.”

Namjoon gags. “I asked you what—”

“Today’s episode has been brought to you by Stamps-dot-com—”

HOLY SHIT THE NEW PATREON EPISODE???????? Posted by u/pod-shipper 4 minutes ago NO WAY. NOOOOOOO FUCKING WAY DUDE THERE’S NO FUCKING WAY THEY DID THIS AS AN ACTUAL EPISODE WHAT THE FUCK WHAT HTE FUCK WHAT EHTU FKF DFGLKDG;L (+705) I wasn’t sure if they were messing around before, and I was quite critical of the “shippers,” but now I’m pretty convinced. (+423) ↳ we’ve been telling y’all for YEARS 😤 (+197) ↳ Glad you’ve seen the light, u/RandomAcorn2058! (+5) ↳ ugh. they weren’t messing around before and they aren’t messing around now. do you guys not listen to what they say? namjoon’s been dating, and piper got out of a six-year relationship just over a year ago. if they’ve had something going on for “years” that means they’re both cheaters, and that’s a really shitty thing to assume about them. not to mention it makes the entire point of the podcast moot. (-63) Why do you guys think Jungkook “wasn’t allowed” to be there? (+314) ↳ So they could fuck lmao it’s so obvious (+329) ↳ because it’s awkward af? would you wanna read porn about yourself w all your coworkers in the room? (+2) ↳ the “it’s awkward” excuse is sooooo lame he’s the one who found it and is the one who edited the episode, he’s gonna see it regardless. (+15) ↳ Tbh I’m more curious about how he even found it to begin with? Do they have a throuple thing going on? Like, why was he looking for smut fic about his bosses? (+38)

You do not get through recording unscathed.

You are very scathed. Perhaps the most scathed a person has ever been.

Jungkook texts the group chat sporadically throughout the week, cracking jokes and making memes at your and Namjoon’s expense which is par for the course and shouldn’t have you off-kilter, but something inside you feels deeply wrong. Feels like someone’s given you devastating news; feels like it used to back in uni when you knew you’d failed an exam and were just waiting to see how badly.

It both helps and doesn’t that the internet is so invested. All the clips Jungkook keeps posting have re-doubled your Patreon numbers, and jumping up a tax bracket never hurt anyone, you included. But all of those jokes and memes largely went unanswered by both you and Namjoon, still too close to the incident to find the humor in it from the other side.

The two of you had sex.

Not literally, of course, but you figure you might as well have with the way you’re feeling. The way you’re avoiding one another. Someone wrote a story about the two of you having sex and you both read it and something about that, days later, feels really fucking unsettling.

In a bad way? You aren’t sure. It’s not like you’re mad or upset or any other synonym. You just feel… off. Itchy from the inside out, and that’s far from the norm in your and Namjoon’s friendship. In all the years you’ve known one another, you’ve never once avoided each other, including the time you’d set him up with a close friend and he showed up 45 minutes late to their date and ghosted after.

(Unsurprisingly, that friendship had not lasted.)

Maybe it’s because Yoongi had always been there as a buffer. You aren’t of the belief that men and women cannot be platonic friends, but being in a years-long committed relationship nixed a lot of awkward interactions and assumptions off the bat. Even Namjoon had known Yoongi first. Had introduced himself to you in your shared 100-level psych course with a, “Hey, you’re Min Yoongi’s girlfriend, right?” because they ran in the same underground circles and Namjoon had idolized him from afar for years.

Pretty fucked up, then, that Yoongi’s off in Los Angeles with his hot new boyfriend and you’re on your couch, Holly at your feet, pointedly ignoring your texts.

“I’m gonna get a cat,” you say to the dog, trying to redirect his attention when he starts chewing on your sock again. Holly doesn’t offer any input, of course, and he’s a lot like his father in that way. “I can’t believe you have a stepfather. You’re a proper child of divorce now, Min Holly.”

There are a pile of unread texts you continue to ignore in lieu of showing Holly pictures of adoptable cats. A few more memes from Jungkook, one from Namjoon’s new phone asking to move the recording date a few days because “something came up at work,” one from the food delivery service you admittedly use too much offering 10% off your next order, and two from Yoongi. This reminded me of you, the first one says beneath a picture of an ice cream cone on the ground, and another one of him holding a water gun that says send me a picture of my son or else.

You eventually reply back with a picture of your middle finger, Holly nothing but a blurred brown blob in the corner of the frame.

That’s how it goes for the better part of a week. Namjoon’s work issue lasts four days. He doesn’t offer an explanation and you don’t ask for one, you just wait for the all-clear text and try to quiet the nerves once you get it.

You’ve never been nervous to see Namjoon before.

The more popular the podcast became, the more money rolled in. The more money that rolled in, the more you could afford nicer things. That meant going from recording in Namjoon’s living room to a bona fide office space. Third floor, an expanse of windows and natural light, thirty-five minute commute by train.

Today, it feels more like thirty-five seconds.

You can hear Jungkook’s witch cackle from the stairwell, and your mind fills in the blanks of Namjoon’s exasperated sigh. It helps, your brain reminding you that you know these people. You know this is Jungkook’s late gym day, so he’ll be in a pair of sweats and a hoodie that drowns his frame. You know that when Namjoon has work issues and feels like an inconvenience, he always shows up with two boxes of baked goods from the bakery near his place, and you know both of them will save the best donut for you.

So you walk in and Jungkook’s in a hoodie and sweats just like you expect him to be, and there are two boxes of baked goods next to the coffee machine. Both of them say hello and wave and, for all intents and purposes, everything is normal.

Except it isn’t.

Because Namjoon looks… different.

Not in a bad way. Not in a bad way. He almost always dresses nicely, always looks polished and put-together, usually because he’s either going to or coming from campus—fitted shirts, either of the tee or dress variety, and earth-toned cardigans; tailored trousers that are sometimes corduroy; polished loafers. Sometimes, if he’s feeling extra casual, a stark white pair of tennis shoes.

Today, he wears none of those things.

No, today torture comes in the form of form-fitting jeans and a t-shirt a little oversized so he can roll the sleeves. His hair is brushed back off his face instead of parted down the middle. He’s wearing gold jewelry that glints in the sun. A pair of off-white Converse high-tops. And, much to your horror, he’s also wearing his glasses.

According to the internet, Kim Namjoon is peak husband material, which you can usually ignore, but not when he’s wearing glasses.

You avert your gaze, convinced you’ll burst into flames if you stare too long, not to mention Jungkook will notice and that’s a ribbing you’d rather die than take. So you avert your gaze and pointedly ignore Namjoon, who’s talking about his work crisis to no one in particular. Something about a co-worker going on an unexpectedly early paternity leave, and Namjoon being asked to cover some of his courses until they could find a more permanent fix.

Jungkook asks a question you don’t catch. Because paternity leave means his co-worker and his partner had a baby, presumably via old-fashioned methods, and it’s not a direct mention of sex but it’s close enough to send you into a coughing fit you have to blame on your donut. Neither of them buy it, but Namjoon is a good enough person to look genuinely concerned. Reaches out, probably to slap your back, but the thought of him touching you is just… too much.

So he barely gets out an, “Are you o—” before you choke down whatever’s left in your mouth and cut him off with a, “Yep, all good!” before you’re scurrying off to the opposite side of the room like a little rat.

It doesn’t get any better.

Both of you are so stilted and awkward during recording that Jungkook has to be the voice of reason and call it, suggest trying again tomorrow. Luckily he has enough b-side stuff he can release if need be, Namjoon’s work emergency providing a decent cover, and he sends the two of you home for the afternoon with all the exasperation and incredulity of a disappointed parent.

Thirty-five minutes back home.

Thirty-five minutes to sit in the embarrassment of not being able to do your job. Thirty-five minutes to catastrophize and wonder what you’re going to do if you can’t get it together. Namjoon will keep the podcast, of course; you’ll be replaced with someone else. Maybe someone less cynical, maybe someone more, but undoubtedly a man. After this mess, you can’t imagine Namjoon would want another female co-host.

But as embarrassed as you are, your traitorous brain keeps thinking about Namjoon.

Thirty-five minutes to think about his glasses and his rolled-up sleeves and the way the denim of his jeans contoured perfectly to his thighs. Thirty-five minutes to think about, “Please let me fuck you,” he begs. Thirty-five minutes to squeeze your thighs together and overanalyze the way he stumbled over his words today; how he could barely make eye contact. Thirty-five minutes to draft a dozen resignation texts and delete them all.

You groan, head thunking against the train window. You’ll take a cold shower as soon as you get home.

That’ll cure you.

You get home and walk Holly so long he gives up halfway through and you have to carry him back to your apartment. You take a cold shower and actually find it pleasant once the initial shock wears off, so it doesn’t work to keep all your rogue Namjoon thoughts at bay. You make a simple dinner and don’t think about Namjoon sitting you on the counter and having his way with you. You tuck yourself into bed far too early and consider going back to therapy, because clearly something very, very bad has happened to your psyche.

Needless to say, nothing cures you.

But it’s a new day, and you’re determined to get your shit together. Yesterday was a fluke, because you’re so normal and so capable of being in the same room as Kim Namjoon.

Except—you’re not.

Jungkook’s there when you arrive, mindlessly scrolling through his phone. Barely looks up at you to say hello, and barely returns it when you do. You double-check the time, because you can count on two fingers the amount of times you’ve shown up and Namjoon wasn’t already there, jotting down extensively-detailed notes, circling and highlighting and chasing down Jungkook to ask questions.

“Where’s Namjoon?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Dunno. Not here.”

You roll your eyes. “Super helpful, thanks.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes right back. “You don’t pay me enough to also be his handler.”

You bite your tongue. Arguing with Jungkook means you’ve already lost the war. Not worth it. But it still eases your worries a bit that he doesn’t know any more than you do. That Namjoon hadn’t only texted him to say why he was running late because he didn’t want to—or couldn’t—talk to you.

So you wait. And you wait and you wait and you wait. Jungkook lets you talk to people on his dating apps and tells you about his new gym routine until your eyes are glazing over. Orders food delivery for the two of you because he gets hungry after an hour and had already eaten what was left of the snacks before you arrived. Cracks a joke that isn’t really a joke about calling the police, because Namjoon still hasn’t shown up and he hasn’t said anything and none of your texts are showing as delivered.

You’re halfway to hour two when the office door bursts open and Namjoon stumbles through, soaked with sweat and stammering over apologies.

“I am so sor—I broke my phone again so my alarm never went off and then I missed my bus? And apparently they’re not running the regular bus schedule today so the next one was a half-hour wait, but then I…”

You don’t catch the rest, because Namjoon is covered in sweat and breathing heavily and a week ago you could’ve survived this. A week ago you would’ve cracked a joke and handed him a towel and told him to get to work. A week ago you would not have been paralyzed in your seat, transfixed on the sweat rolling down the side of his neck.

You are fucked beyond belief.

Jungkook elbows you in the ribs, bringing you back to reality. “...even paying attention?” You startle, face warming in embarrassment. Namjoon still isn’t looking at you. “This is so sad to watch,” Jungkook mumbles, and thankfully it’s only loud enough for you to hear. “Like some stupid shit you only see in nature documentaries.”

Well, you can’t really argue with that, now can you?

But you’re a professional above all, so you hum an acknowledgment and take your regular seat. Pointedly ignore Jungkook. Wait for Namjoon to assume his position as well, and you’re surprised to see the space in front of him empty. No notes. No script. There’s just… nothing.

“Are you okay?” you ask, gesturing to the space in front of him when he seems confused. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without a stack of notes in front of you.”

“I forgot them.”

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you do that, either.”

Your tone is light and airy, not at all accusing or confrontational, but Namjoon’s jaw clenches nonetheless. He scoffs, fires a shitty little, “Were you not paying attention when I was talking about what a horrible fucking morning I’ve had?” at you that makes even Jungkook flinch. A few moments of stunned silence, and then, “Oh fuck, I’m so sorry, that was rude—”

“Yeah, it was,” you agree, and all of a sudden you feel too big for your body. Feel like there are ants beneath your skin, feel like everything is wrong, and you don’t want to be here anymore. “It’s fine. Let’s just—”

Namjoon looks like he wants to argue, but he just sighs and says, “I—yeah, okay.”

This is where Namjoon would usually launch into the intro, a dimpled smile already plastered on his face that’d drop as he discussed another failed first date with that brand of self-deprecation that makes him so endearing. This is where he’d say what have you been up to, Pipe, and you’d try not to groan because how hard could it possibly be to add one more letter, another syllable, but Namjoon seems incapable of it. This is the part that, for three years, has been seamless and easy and instinctual, just two friends having a conversation.

There’s a red light on your microphones that indicates you’re recording. It’s on and it mocks you, because Namjoon is not doing the intro or telling you about a failed date. He doesn’t use that cringey nickname. He doesn’t say anything at all. His mouth opens and shuts and no words come out. What’s worse is that you know exactly why he can’t speak, because you’re thinking about it, too.

“So, uh,” you begin, and Jungkook makes a gagging sound from behind you. “Come here often?”

Namjoon ignores you. “Right, right, the intro…” He sucks in a breath. “Welcome back to another episode of Put Him in the Trash, I’m—”

“Joon—”

“Namjoon, and my co-host here is—”

“Joon, that’s not—”

“Piper. Wait, why are you looking at me like that?”

“That’s not the name of our podcast.”

“Huh?”

“You said Put Him in the Trash.” Namjoon just blinks. “It’s Place Him Gently in the Garbage.”

“Is it? Since when?”

“Since forever?”

He looks at Jungkook, who is hiding behind his hands. “Is she right?”

A beat of silence. “I can’t do this,” he half-shouts, half-whines. “Are you two going to be like this forever? Because if you are, I’m quitting. I’m so serious. I’m gonna quit. I can’t take it anymore. The two of you are insufferable.” Another beat of silence, before Jungkook stands at full height and lords over you and Namjoon. “Forget today. Just go home and try again on Monday. This is so—I’m seriously gonna quit.”

Yoongi comes on Saturday afternoon to pick up Holly.

Yijeong isn’t with him, which is almost disappointing. Now that he’s dating again, you were looking forward to seeing just how awkward it could get with the three of you in the same room, but he looks good. Refreshed. The trip clearly did a world of good for him, and you can’t even bring yourself to crack a joke at his expense.

He, however, has no such hang-ups. “You look like shit.”

“Weird way to say thank you.” You click your tongue and look down at Holly. “Do you see how your father treats me? You should bite him.”

“My son would never. But also, thank you.” He flops onto the sofa. “You do look like shit, though. You wanna talk about it?”

“Not with you, preferably.”

“Oh, gross, is it a dating thing, then?”

“I—no.” You pause. It’s not a dating thing, but you still feel like you’ve got motion sickness whenever you think about it. How would you even begin to explain this to Yoongi, anyway? Someone wrote a porn fic about me and Namjoon. You remember Namjoon, right? Namjoon, that I’ve known and have been friends with since college. Yeah, that Namjoon. Anyway, someone wrote fanfiction about us having sex, and it fucked me up so bad I can no longer be in the same room as him.

No fucking way.

“You look like you’re holding in a fart.”

“You know, I’m getting really sick of you. Did you just come here to insult me?”

He snorts, but his smirk dissipates a few seconds later, a familiar seriousness filling the void. “We’re okay, right? Was the Yijeong thing too soon?”

“No,” you answer immediately, leaning over to flick him on the forehead. “We’re fine, and if you’re happy, then I’m happy for you.” He still looks doubtful. “You want me to start singing ‘I Will Always Love You’ or something? It’s just… weird work stuff.”

“Depends. Are you singing the Dolly Parton or Whitney version? And real work or podcast work?”

“Podcast work, and obviously the Whitney version.”

Yoongi seems surprised by this, eyebrows disappearing beneath his fringe. “Like, the podcast with Namjoon?” He presses his tongue into the fat of his cheek when you nod your head. “Not gonna lie, I didn’t think that was possible.”

“Like I said, it’s weird. It wasn’t, like, an argument or anything.”

“How weird?”

“You’re so fake, Min Yoongi. You act like you’re so distinguished and above drama, but really you’re just as hungry for gossip as the rest of us.”

He shrugs. “I’m not denying it.”

God help you, you’re going to rip off the band-aid. “Someone… Jesus, this is so embarrassing. Someone… wrote? Fanfiction? About us.”

“About you and Namjoon?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh my god—”

“About us… uh. Having sex? Specifically.”

“Oh my god—”

“Jungkook found it and thought it’d be funny if we read it for an episode.”

“Oh my god?”

“So we did? And it was really weird, which I expected, because I’ve known Namjoon for a long time, and I never, ever thought about having sex with him because we were together and me and Namjoon are friends, so yeah, it was fucking weird. But now… I don’t know. I can’t stop thinking about it? And now we can’t even be in the same room as one another.” Yoongi is a concerning shade of red. “So our show is gonna get canceled, because we can only release b-side stuff for so long until people realize something’s up, and it was Namjoon’s podcast to begin with so obviously I’ll get fired—”

“Oh my god, you want to fuck Namjoon.”

Yoongi sounds like a strangled cat when he says this, which does not help the way you feel like you’ve been hit square in the face with a frying pan. “No,” you argue, though it sounds more like a question. You do not want to fuck Namjoon. “No, no. No. It’s just because it was weird.”

“Did you forget I dated you for six years? I know what you look like when you want to fuck someone.”

“You’re telling me you wouldn’t be weird if someone wrote fanfiction about you fucking your friend?”

“Not if I didn’t actually want to fuck them, no.”

“You’re a liar. Get your dog and get out of my apartment.”

Yoongi laughs as he stands. Pats you on the back in the most condescending way you’ve ever had someone pat you on the back. “Let me know how it goes. No need to give me credit for your moment of horny clarity.”

Min Yoongi is a bastard.

Unfortunately, as you come to find out, he’s also a correct bastard.

You want to fuck Namjoon.

Which is… not great, you have to admit, considering he can barely stand to be around you, so you take another cold shower and decide you’re going to take this to your grave. You’re going to spend the rest of the weekend getting your shit together, and you’re going to show up on Monday and be a consummate professional. You’re going to look at Namjoon and say, ha ha, isn’t it so funny someone thought we would have sex? I don’t think about it at all because I am so cool and normal about it.

You’ve got it all planned out. You’re going to show up fifteen minutes early with your own box of pastries. You’re going to look nice, if not a little pretentious—maybe a nice sweater. You’re going to be prepared with notes of your own. You might even be nice to the villain of the week so Namjoon doesn’t have to pinch the bridge of his nose and sigh at you.

And then someone knocks on your door.

You find Namjoon on the other side, and all your plans immediately go to shit.

Has he always been this tall? You can’t remember. You can’t remember a lot of things, including how to speak, because Yoongi had launched you into a crisis of epic proportions and now here’s the source of it, standing right in front of you. With all of his… height. And thighs. And that heady, musky cologne he always wears, that you can still smell now even though there’s an unfortunate amount of distance between you.

“Uh, hi.”

You blink. “Hi,” you parrot, and it’s a little insulting how one single word seems to have sucked up all of your brainpower. “Namjoon,” you tack on, not awkward at all.

“Sorry to just show up,” he says, scratching at the back of his neck. Very bad idea; makes his biceps bulge. You barely swallow your whimper. “It’s just—my phone’s still broken, and it felt bad leaving things how we did? So I was hoping we could talk.”

Talk. Namjoon wants to talk to you. Normally: not a problem. Currently: big problem. You manage a nod, open the door wider to let him in, and you don’t think about how jarring it is to have Namjoon in your space. You don’t think about how your legs feel like jelly all of a sudden, or what it’d be like if Namjoon bent you over the couch, or the kitchen counter, or the—

You cough. “Do you want anything to drink?”

“Oh, sure. Maybe just some water if you have it.”

If you have it. What kind of person doesn’t have water? But you tell him to make himself comfortable and get him some anyway, and you mull too long over the size of the glass. Ultimately decide on a smaller one, because if things get unbearably awkward you can excuse yourself to the kitchen to get more.

“I haven’t been here in a while,” Namjoon says from the living room, and when you look up he’s sorting through a stack of books near the window. Some he’d lent you months ago, notes jotted in the corners, sticky notes in the shape of sea animals on important pages. “You ever wind up reading this?”

The Idiot. Namjoon had raved about it when he was in the midst of his 19th century Russian phase, right after he’d read a bunch of Tolstoy and Pushkin. You shake your head—though, judging from the title, you wonder if someone hadn’t written your biography.

“It’s good. If you have the time, you should definitely give it a shot.”

“Yeah, of course,” you say, handing over his water. You take a seat in an armchair, pull your knees to your chest. Namjoon’s still looking through your books, isn’t looking at you, so it feels safe to say, “You wanted to talk?”

“Yeah.” He moves to sit on the floor, massive thighs spreading until he’s comfortable. Thank god he can’t see the look on your face. “I just wanted to make sure we’re alright. Things have felt pretty weird since we filmed the, uh.” He coughs. “Thing.”

“Right, yeah.” You realize he’s waiting for an answer, and you offer up a very rushed, “We’re fine, Joon.”

“Are you sure?”

Yeah, you’re sure: sure you absolutely cannot be having this conversation in the safety and sanctity of your own home. It’s tainted now, contaminated by all your uncontrolled horny thoughts about the man in front of you. You’ll have to fumigate. Might have to pick up and move, actually, or call an exorcist.

“I’m sure,” you assure him. “The… thing… was weird, but it’s fine. Temporary.”

“Do you think we shouldn’t have done it?”

That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? Because, in isolation, reading a porn fic about yourselves wasn’t a big deal. No one got hurt. Everyone who needed to be consulted was consulted. The episode made the two of you a lot of money, and Jungkook even promised to send some of it to the author, so your bases are beyond covered.

So, should you have done it? There wasn’t a good enough reason not to, because the story itself was never the problem.

The problem is staring you right in the face. It’s sitting on your floor, a book cracked in half at the spine and forgotten in his lap. The problem is looking at you like you hold all the answers to the universe’s secrets, and it’s no small thing to be looked at like that. The problem is that Namjoon is looking at you like that from across the room but you’re wondering what it’d look like from on top of you.

The problem is that you’ve co-hosted a podcast with Namjoon for three years, have known him even longer, and you’ve just realized today that you want to have sex with him.

And you can’t say that, can you, because Namjoon came here to fix things which really does not lend itself to a hookup. Namjoon cares about your friendship and your working relationship so much he came here to try and salvage it, so you’re going to keep your mouth shut. You’re going to say, “I think it’s okay that we did,” and leave it at that. Because it is okay.

Because you’re the problem.

It feels like a small victory when Namjoon sags in relief. When he exhales and says, “Okay, good, because I think so, too.”

“It made us a lot of money,” you tack on.

Namjoon’s eyes widen as he laughs. “Right? Like, that was almost too much money. Just to watch us read porn?”

“About ourselves. I think that was the selling point.”

He stands. You do, too. “Never thought I’d be doing that,” he says, returning the book to where it belongs. “Definitely the most embarrassing thing I’ve done for money.”

“Being a man with a podcast wasn’t embarrassing enough?”

He snorts. Gets closer to the door. “Hey now.” You’re going to survive this. “Thanks for entertaining me, by the way. For a second there I was really worried we’d fucked it all up.”

Just the ending. Just one more thing to say and you’ll be done with this, and then you can take your third cold shower in recent memory and triple text Yoongi with a full-fledged mental breakdown. Maybe he’ll bring Holly back and you can register him as your emotional support animal.

And Namjoon must sense the awkwardness that’s crept back in, because he tries to cover it with a joke. Says, “Haaa, like you’d actually piss on me, right?”

Except it sounds like he’s got a mouth full of marbles.

It’s no wonder you mishear him.

Because he says like you’d actually piss on me but you hear like you’d actually kiss me, and there isn’t a universe that exists in which the following makes sense: you, stunned into silence in the doorframe, Namjoon saying his goodbyes, you thinking fuck it, last chance and saying, “Yeah, I’d kiss you.”

Namjoon stops dead in his tracks. “What?”

Your entire body is on fire. “Is, uh. Is that not what you said?”

“I don’t think it matters anymore what I said.”

“I’d argue that it does, for the sake of my digni—”

“You’d kiss me?” Namjoon… doesn’t look put off of the idea, which is surely a point in your favor. Interesting to note that his diction is crystal clear, now. Bastard. “You’d kiss me right now?”

There’s also no explanation for the way you say: “It’s only been an option for ten seconds and you’re already begging for it?”

You’d say there’s no explanation for the way Namjoon’s jaw clenches, the way he repeats I don’t beg for anything, but maybe the simple fact is: the two of you want to fuck each other. And, judging from the way Namjoon crowds your space, keeps dropping his gaze to your mouth, it seems very likely to happen.

All that fixating you’d done on Namjoon’s thighs was wasted, you think, as you take in the shape of his mouth. His lips. The way his tongue darts out to run along the bottom at the last second before he reaches out, tilts your head up, and finally presses his mouth to yours.

And you’ve got to laugh, because no piece of written fiction could ever accurately portray what it feels like. How soft his lips are. The way he touches you—gentle, but still dominant enough to have you moving the way he wants, have you backing up into your apartment so he can smile against your mouth as he closes the door behind him.

No piece of fiction would get it right, the way you’re unsteady on your feet, breathless at the way Namjoon’s kissing you. How he only breaks apart long enough to ask where do you want me in that throaty, deep voice of his. How you’re so overwhelmed you can’t decide: unsure if you want to waste the time it’d take to get to your bedroom, but if it’s only going to happen once, wanting to make it count.

So you decide to risk it. Plant your hands in the middle of his exceptionally broad chest and push him in the direction of the hallway, and if the two of you can’t wait, can’t control yourselves, well.

But the story had gotten one thing right: Namjoon does kiss like a branding iron, hot and greedy. Namjoon kisses you like there’s nothing else he wants to do in this lifetime, and it makes you dizzy. Has you off-kilter, stumbling into the wall as you try to remember where the fuck your bedroom is and why it’s so far. Just like the fictional version of you, you also moan when he licks into your mouth.

“Should I do it the way we did in the fic?” Namjoon asks as the two of you cross the threshold into your bedroom, a cheeky grin on his face. “Do it like this?” he questions, pushing you gently until you’re on the back in the middle of your bed, chest heaving as you lift your head to look at him.

Namjoon is so, so big from where you lay, just hovering at the foot of your bed. Cheeks ruddy, bulge prominent. “What’d you say you wanted?”

Takes a second to remember how to breathe, let alone what you’d read. What do you want, Namjoon had asked, right before he’d sank to his knees in front of you. “Whatever you’re willing to give,” you answer.

Namjoon smiles. Puts one knee on the bed, and the way it dips beneath his weight is unsettling. Why does he have to be so fucking large. “That’s right, baby.” Christ, you think, because there’s another thing that fic had gotten right. No one on earth would be immune to Namjoon calling them baby in that tone of voice.

The riposte biting at the back of your teeth gets swallowed whole as Namjoon grabs your ankles and drags you to the edge of the bed. “May I?” he asks, hands poised above the waistline of your leggings. You nod, and Namjoon drags down your underwear with them. “Fuck, look at you,” he groans, awe creeping into the edge of his words.

“You want me to do it the same way? Hm? You’re being awfully quiet; thought you were giving me shit about being the one in charge,” he chides.

Because you’re short-circuiting. Namjoon’s on his knees, just like you’d envisioned, and his mouth is dangerously close to your cunt. How can you be expected to think and speak under these conditions? But if Namjoon can find the brainpower to be a bastard, so can you, because what you’d read and the way he’d reacted can both never be forgotten. So you thread your hands into his hair and pull. The resulting moan is enough to sustain you for years.

“Are you gonna keep running your mouth, or are you gonna make me come on it?”

He blinks. “Jesus Christ.”

There’s precedent. Fictional Namjoon ate you out like a man starved, like he couldn’t get enough. Had fictional you writhing and insatiable, so it’s a lot to live up to, but it doesn’t deter him in the slightest. He hesitates for only a second, giving you one last chance to back out before the two of you set every last boundary on fire, and then he’s settling between your thighs and making you see stars.

Now you know what it’s like. Now you don’t have to rely on fiction, and it doesn’t matter because it’d never compare to the way Namjoon feels as he works to bring you to your ruin. The way he flattens his tongue to lick long, thick stripes; the way his lips suction around your clit. The way it feels when he groans against your core. The way he says, “Fuck, you do taste good,” like that’s a completely normal thing to say. Like he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing to you.

But you need more and Namjoon knows it. His mouth doesn’t leave your cunt for a second, but his fingers find your mouth, so you put on a show. Wrap your lips around them, suck on them the way he’s doing to you, make sure they’re slick. Namjoon groans again, doubles his efforts. Slides one thick finger inside of you and barely lets you adjust before he’s adding a second.

In an embarrassingly short amount of time, Namjoon has you unraveling. Presses incessantly on a spot that has your vision whiting out. Has you trembling, a little panicked as you say, “Joon, fuck—Namjoon, wait—” as it builds and builds and builds.

You might black out for a second, because you come to and Namjoon looks… stunned. He looks like he can’t believe any of what just happened, and you blink a few times, try to come back into your body, and when you regain enough consciousness, you’re extremely aware of the large wet patch beneath you.

“Um—”

“Holy shit.”

“Namjoon, that’s not—that’s embarrassing—can you grab a—”

He shuts you up with a kiss. Presses the taste of you into your skin, and all those silly protests die in your throat, because if Namjoon was needy before, he’s desperate now. Covers your body with his own, hips dipping down low enough to press his erection into the juncture of your thigh, and the weight of him is delicious. Has you fisting the fabric of his t-shirt to pull him closer, has you pulling it over his head, his pants following. Has your hands skimming down every thick part of his body until you reach his cock, hard and aching and slick with pre-cum.

“I need to suck you off later,” you say, done with overthinking. Time to just be honest, and Kim Namjoon has a dick you need to feel down your throat. “Remind me.”

He whines, thrusts into your hand a little harder. “How could I forget that?”

“Don’t know. Didn’t know if this would be the only time,” you answer. “Did you bring a condom?” Namjoon nods, fetches one from his wallet and rolls it on.

He hovers above you again. Looks nervous, all of a sudden, like he can’t tell his lefts from his rights. All out of sorts. You’re about to tell him it’s fine, you don’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to, don’t have to do anything at all, when he says, “It doesn’t have to be.” You just stare. “The only time.”

There’s a conversation to be had. You know that. Both of you clearly have feelings you need to talk about and sort out, but you reckon they can wait. They’ll still be there in the afterglow, in the morning. So you nod, say okay, Joon, and kiss away the insecurities that still linger.

You think about the fic. Think maybe Namjoon would appreciate it if you cracked a stupid joke, just like he’d tried to do earlier. “Has anyone ever called your cock stupid?”

He laughs, breath fanning against your skin. “No. Wanna try it and see what happens?”

Might as well. You try to remember the exaggerated tone of voice you’d used. Repeat the line—“Do you even know what to do with that big, stupid cock?”—and wait.

There’s a beat of silence, and then—

Namjoon swallows thickly. “I, um. Unfortunately, I think that really works for me.” You laugh. Pull him closer. Wrap your legs around his waist as he starts to move against you. Has jokes of his own. “Please. Please let me fuck you.”

You roll your eyes, laugh tapering into a giggle. “Do you know how?” Namjoon nods, looking all too much like a puppy eager to please its owner. “Do you promise?” He nods again. “Okay. Okay, come here.”

You expect him to move fast; expect the first time to be frenzied and a little awkward. It isn’t. Namjoon lines himself up and pushes the smallest bit inside, and then he’s leaning down to kiss you. Threads your fingers together, squeezes your hand. Pushes further inside and mumbles praise just beneath your ear.

It’s dizzying, the amount of care Namjoon handles you with. How soft he is. Does nothing to ease the discomfort of the stretch, the overwhelming fullness, but he talks you through it. Tells you how good you feel, how beautiful you look. Spills a lot of words you’d probably be embarrassed to hear and he’d be embarrassed to say if this was any other time, but in the heat of the moment it all just works to unravel you faster.

He bottoms out. “Okay?” he asks, and you’re rewarded with a dimpled smile when you say you are. Namjoon is a devastating kind of beautiful.

But, as he gives you time to adjust and you give him the all-clear, he also fucks like a demon. What once was hand-holding is now your wrists pinned to the bed, your body caged beneath him as he rolls his hips at a pace that has your eyes rolling back into your head. You’ve been deceived. Lured into a false sense of security.

It’s almost a shame this isn’t being recorded, because you want to memorize all the sounds Namjoon’s making. Want to hear them for the rest of your life. Don’t want anyone else to be the reason he sounds like this, and as he ups his pace and presses his lips to your neck, you don’t want to sound like this because of anyone else, either.

Maybe one of those times in the future, you can talk him into it.

Namjoon reaches down, rubs circles into your clit. Every time you think you might be close, he pulls his hand away, smiles like the devil. You let him have his fun for a while, let him think you’re keen to lie back and take it, and then you tighten your legs around his waist and flip him onto his back.

He doesn’t think it’s very funny. Looks up at you all bewildered. “What’re you—”

“You were taking too long,” you snark. “Figured I’d take matters into my own hands.”

“Yeah? Shit,” he says as you begin to move. “Fuck, baby, like that. Ride me just like that.”

You do. Don’t change a thing, because Namjoon’s cock is long and thick enough to hit exactly where you need it to. You can feel yourself clenching, feel yourself getting wetter, and the sight of Namjoon beneath you does nothing to stave off the inevitable. He looks even better than you’d imagined: skin flushed, eyes squeezed shut, head thrown back, sweat-slick. You want to make him cry. Want to give him the entire world. You will.

Namjoon thrusts at the same time you roll your hips, and that’s what does it. Has you crying out, has stars flashing behind your eyelids. Has you saying fuck, fuck, fuck as he drives you over the edge for the second time. Has you on the brink of oversensitive as he thrusts a few more times to chase his own end, almost delirious at the way Namjoon moans as he spills into the condom.

Has you swooning, just a bit, at the dopey way Namjoon smiles at you, eyes half-lidded and crinkled at the corners.

“Was that okay?”

You snort. “Yeah, I’d say it was decent.”

“Maybe next time you could pee on me,” he jokes.

You whack him on the chest. “Sure. Or we could record it.”

Has you a little shocked at the way his cock twitches inside of you at the mention of it.

On Monday, you don’t wear a pretentious sweater.

When you stroll in, Jungkook’s already got the best donut shoved halfway into his mouth because he’s a shithead. He eyes you warily, probably hoping with all his hope that you spent the weekend finding God and getting your shit together.

And then he realizes you’ve got on Namjoon’s hoodie and he nearly chokes to death.

“What the fuck are you wearing—”

Namjoon appears at that very moment, and it’s so hard not to take credit for the way he’s glowing, the dazed smile on his face. But Jungkook notices, because Jungkook notices everything, and his gaze darts between the two of you: your hoodie, Namjoon’s face, your face. He opens his mouth, something inappropriate bound to spill out, but Namjoon beats him to the punch. “Ready?” he asks you, and you nod.

It’s seamless.

No hiccups, no awkward stuttering. Namjoon gets through the intro without a hitch, and it feels exactly like it used to. Just two friends having a conversation. It’s obvious Jungkook still wants to say something, but after suffering through last week, he stays quiet lest he makes it worse and sends the two of you back to the bad place.

“How was your weekend, Pipe? Do anything fun?” Namjoon rolls his lips, tries not to laugh.

So you play along. “No, not really, just some dog sitting. How about you?”

“Oh, you know me. Had another first date on Saturday.”

“Did you? How’d it go?”

“Perfect.”

It’s a blessing Jungkook isn’t filming this, because your eyebrows raise so far they nearly disappear from your face altogether. There isn’t even a hint of hesitation in Namjoon’s voice, and although you would’ve described it the same way, hearing him say it with such conviction has you a little stunned. “Wow. You gonna see her again?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon says, sharing a private smile with you. “I think I am.”

who the FUCK is namjoon dating Posted by u/pod-shipper 7 minutes ago This has honestly ruined my entire day. I thought all the stories he told about dating were a bit… Like, what kind of guy has a podcast about relationships but can’t seem to be in one? But you could just HEAR it in his voice how much he likes this woman he went on a date with over the weekend and I’m sick to my stomach. (+2195) ↳ bro you and me both 😭 i genuinely thought him and piper had something going on fr (+1302) ↳ Seriously might stop listening because of this! Any woman with self-respect would never let their partner host a podcast with someone they’re obviously in love with. If he gets serious with this woman, Piper will be gone within 6 months, mark my words. (+927) ↳ I wouldn’t worry about it too much! My cousin works at a really nice restaurant in the same city Namjoon lives in, and she said she saw this “date” on Saturday and that it wasn’t anything serious. (+788) ↳ Piper got a cat and Namjoon finally got a second date. Face it, it’s over. (+325) ↳ cannot believe him and piper aren’t dating.. do you think i should delete all my tiktok edits? (+4) ↳ this is unhinged lmfao i thought y’all hated piper? you’re in here bitching abt her being a “misandrist” every week and now ur gonna stop listening bc namjoon isn’t dating her? pick a lane and stay in it (-64)

Thank you so much for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts, and reblogs/shares are always welcome! I appreciate you very much~ ♡

#namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts x reader #namjoon fanfic #namjoon imagine #namjoon scenarios #namjoon x you #namjoon x y/n #bts imagines #bts scenarios #jewel writes

[pierregazly]

the bookworm ꨄ george russell smau

george russell x bookworm/writer!reader

the one where george couldn't be prouder to call you his, even if it seems like the whole world hates you just for doing what you love... even if they don't know the whole truth.

georgerussell63

tagged yourusername

liked by yourusername, alex_albon, f1wags, and others

georgerussell63 enjoyed the time off! would never complain about spending time with my best friend, time to get back into things 💪🏎

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username gotta go check off 'george posts shirtless pics during off szn' on my bingo card

username gotta go check off 'yn cares more about her own hobby than her bf' on my bingo card

username girl you got issues with books? can't read?

alex_albon bad hair day? or are hats your new thing

yourusername tried to convince him to go with the bucket hat, but he claims 'all the kids are wearing caps babe'

username girlypop can't even enjoy a holiday with george without being focused on anything other than him??

username he's literally NECKING her in one of the photos?????? do you want her to koala hold him everywhere???

username future wdc russell george and his future writer wife frfr

username 1/2 of these things are probably true and we both know it's not the second lol

yourusername spoiling me always, my handsome handsome man 💗

georgerussell63 wouldn't have spent the last few weeks with anyone else (even if you kick me in your sleep nightly)

username do you think yourusername pictures george as the main male character in any of the books she reads???

username if i can picture him in fanfiction, im sure she pictures him in everything else???

gisèlerosebooks

liked by yourusername, lilymhe, username, and others

gisèlerosebooks first time being on any device since my trip with my favourite person ended. the love on collided continues to amaze me, and i'm so extremely honoured to continuously receive so much love from not only the reading community, but many of the formula 1 faithful as well. this is NOT the end of the journey, either. for now, let the formula 1 season begin... and maybe find me at a race or two? 🤭

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gisèlerosebooks oh and to my incredible, amazing, handsome boyfriend, thank you so much for always proofreading my formula 1 terminology and understanding. i promise i'll give you real credit one day.

username god adrien is so charles leclerc coded, he's all i could think about this entire book

lilymhe 🏎🫶🏻

username the fact i literally could've cared less about the lil zoom zoom cars before the dirty air series dropped and now im eager for the new season.... gisèle baby why u do this to me

username miss girl???? how are we supposed to find you at any races when we don't even know what you look like!!!

username jealous of gisèle's bf is!!! his gf is too talented for the world

username not throttled being the book to get me back into reading and now i'm blessed wth a second book??? mother is mothering real hard

username this is the type of book series i'd totally read at the track and imagine an f1 driver as my husband sry

username 10/10 book!!! dying!!!

yourusername has posted a story

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replies

georgerussell63 wow we're so lucious and hot

yourusername luscious sweetie

georgerussell63 god i love having a hot, smart, book-writer gf. write a book about me and use that word

yourusername they're all already about you??? (handsome)

username you showed up to a race?????? shocking

gisèlerosebooks has posted a story

liked by georgerussell63, username, username, and others

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username omg!!!! where are you!!! dying to meet you omfg

username YOU WERE SERIOUS

georgerussell63 i saw u slip up and post this on the og account loser

georgerussell63 can i have my scooter back ya nerd

gisèlerosebooks no sorry </3 i own it now

georgerussell63 no creds in the books and now my scooter stolen???? you hate the british

gisèlerosebooks my pseudonym is an ODE to you PAL

georgerussell63

tagged yourusername and gisèlerosebooks

liked by yourusername, gisèlerosebooks, lilymhe, and others

georgerussell63 a shame that this weekend didn't go the way we all wanted it to go, i know for a fact we'll be coming out on top soon! i also know yourusername or as most of you seem to prefer (for no valid reason at all) gisèlerosebooks is pretty deep in finishing book 3 and apparently this weekend was super influential??? go me (give me book creds)

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yourusername george!!! lmao!!!

yourusername a heads up next time??? maybe?!?

username 'for no valid reason at all' so SASSY oh boy

username everyone on twitter the other day calling yourusername a freeloader is soooo not doing well rn

lilymhe the secret's out!!!! (shocked, baffled, wild, can i get my books signed now)

username (G)isèle (R)ose... (G)eorge (R)ussell... dare i say... deliberately done

yourusername 🤭

username amazing race this weekend!!! can't wait to see you on top

username no one talking about book 3 almost being done??? or the fact george proofreads all her writing??? so cute

charles_leclerc so collided... is not about me?

georgerussell63 get lost mate

yourusername has posted a story

liked by georgerussell63, alex_albon, username, and others

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georgerussell63 you think im a gentleman??? love you

yourusername the BIGGEST gentleman, i love you

username god this is so cute

georgerussell63

tagged yourusername and gisèlerosebooks

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, username and others

georgerussell63 that's my little freeloading, best-selling author and future wife!

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username someone come get this chronically online man rn!!

yourusername can i be your freeloader forever??? spending my own money sucks

georgerussell63 my money's your money always my little freeloader

alex_albon emphasis on the best-selling author and future wife part

georgerussell63 you're right mate

username re-reading dirty air and knowing fully the entire book series is about george makes me so happy omg

username proud to admit i loved yourusername before AND after she was revealed as everyone's fav author (and it's not just a hobby losers)

username george doesn't get book creds until he wins a race again :)

yourusername i love this stipulation!!! georgerussell63 thoughts?

georgerussell63 you hate the british.

i had SO much fun writing this!!! i picked george after going down a george rabbit hole again (of course), so i hope you all love it!! thanks for all the love always.

i'm not necessarily taking requests right now, but if you have suggestions please feel free to send them my way.

#george russell #george russell x reader #george russell x you #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 #george russell imagine #george russell fluff #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 fluff #f1 one shot #f1 smau #george russell smau

[aupoe]

Nighttime stress

Pairing: Keegan x F!Reader. Warning: Nsfw, Somnophilia, Porn with plot, Breeding kink, Body worship, Praising, Pervert Keegan, English is not my first language, Keegan is a simp for us, Nakadashi, Obsessive Keegan.  Words count: 3.5k Pic credit: @/callsignmint on tt

Keegan knew he was fucked. 

Waking up in the middle of the night with his cock painfully brushed against the top of his pants. The tip was leaking precum forming a wet patch that could easily be noticed without the lights even on. There was so little stimulation that with each shifting of his legs, Keegan let out a deep groan from the way the cotton pressed down harder on his sore, redden, sensitive tip.  He swore he could cum right at that moment when the fragments of the dream slowly pieced together in his brain. You looked so gorgeous, wet and inviting as Keegan felt his cock twitched at the thoughts. 

Being a gentleman as he was. Keegan usually scrambled to the bathroom to jerk off with his little fantasy about you. Hands going up and down in frustration in hope to recreate the feeling of having your cunt wrapped tightly around his member, squeezing out each seed Keegan only had for you.  Sometimes he let his cock get the better of him, making him just start humping onto the pillow as his eyes rolled back into his skull from pleasure. 

But how could Keegan control himself when the first thing he saw while sitting up was your soft, peaceful body next to his. 

Wearing only panties and his shirt which hung onto your body for dear life because of how tiny you're in comparison to his figure. The sight was so inviting that Keegan gulped down his watery mouth unconsciously. The sleeves were pulled down onto your forearms as your left breast spilled out and Keegan welcomed the sight of it very very much. The bottom of the shirt was pushed up, revealing your tummy that he constantly kept his hands on for no particular reason. He loved the texture, the softness so much that it became his stress ball once he got home from work. Oh to be able to hold it right now, Keegan could faint from the pleasure.

He let his eyes wander before moving downward, staring at your thighs and the little panties that worked its best to keep your cunt from spilling out the side. Those thighs that he repeatedly requested to lay on or even better, squished between now were bare for only him to see. He remembered the time when he could kiss them, bite them, show them his love and desires as he held you down from squirming away from pleasure. It was and will forever be his greatest achievement, marking you up with bites after bites, kisses after kisses when your eyes rolled back into your head, tongue stuck out so he could lean in and kiss you 'till his heart content. 

All those horny thoughts only worsened his condition right now as Keegan felt his cock twitch violently. He groaned as he moved slowly to sit up on your left.  He watched as your chest raised up and down steadily, taking in as much air as you wanted, completely oblivious to how hot and bothered your boyfriend was. That face, that innocent, peaceful face, Keegan swore he could just jerk off to your sleepy face with no issue and smeared his cum across your puffy lips, or maybe tried to push them. In which, your hot tongue would obediently licked his cum off his fingers and sucked on them greedily like how he always praised you for. 

In the back of his mind, he can hear the sound of multiple strings snapping while leaning in closer to your unconscious body. Keegan flicked his tongue, letting out a string of curse words as he pinched the bridge of his nose. It's almost like you had him under a leash, like a damn horny dog he was. The more he tried to reason with himself, the more the situation got worse. 

You also want this, right? 

He knew how your brain worked. How many fanfictions you had read about this scenario. How you talked about it with great interest and hid your phone away when he tried to take a peak. He was a gentleman and forever would, if you asked nicely, with your eyelashes fluttering and a reddened cheeks, he would pin you down, kiss your knees and give you the pleasure you always crave for. But the fact that you tried to keep this side hidden from his naked eyes made him even more furious. Maybe it's just the way his horny brain worked right now but for the first time, he felt scared. 

Why distance your true self from him? 

Was he such a terrible lover? 

Has he not showered you with enough love?

Or maybe he was that bad of a fucker that you couldn’t bring yourself to ask him? Was his dick not satisfying you enough?

Therefore, he promised to worship you better tonight. Or just to have a reason to fuck you dump tonight. 

He was shaking when he leaned down closer to your face. Keegan could barely brush your cheeks or hair like he normally would, not because you’re fragile, a porcelain doll like how you would call you, but in fear of waking you up. Keegan swallowed his saliva before pressing his lips on your forehead. He could feel the heat inside of him quickly transfer to your body when his lips connected to your skin. Gosh, he wished that he could spread the heat onto your skin, making your sweats dripped down to the bed, rolling out of your chest as Keegan held you closer to his chest.

Trembling, he moved down onto your lips. Keegan sealed your lips away with a tender delicious kiss. He wanted to push his tongue in, dance around while pushing his saliva in and watch them trickle down from the corner of your mouth. That was his greatest pride. Yet, he let out a hiss as he forced himself to lean back, holding back his desire, dumping them down his throat in order not to wake you up. He was in so much pain, yet for you, he would suffer for eternity. 

As he moved downward, planting various feathering kisses like how you would tease him every time to your neck, collarbones, each of your breasts, tummy, navel. He swore, your skin was so soft that he wished to bite down and mark every inch of your body, taking in the sensation of having your legs around his back, caging him and edging him to go deeper and deeper. You were his drug, his addiction and he would happily comply. When his mouth reached your black panties, Keegan bit down onto the middle and pulled the polyester down to your kneecaps while keeping his eyes on your face, stopping every so slightly when your eyes twitched. Keegan took the black panties in his hand, rubbing the fabric like second nature only to find your slick covering his fingers. The moment his eyes laid on the sight, air quickly escaped his lungs in a sharp gasp. The wet, sticky substance heightening his sense along with the bulge that greedily grinds against the bed sheet as he pocketed the panties for later.  His cock was already dripping wet, precum leaking from the top as he wished it was your hot watery mouth that wrapped around his dick, rather than the cold sheet on both sides of his thighs.

“Fucking hell…” Keegan slurred, shaking his head to keep himself focused on the task. He trailed quick kisses from the feet to your inner thighs. His strong biceps that he trained for hours on end now served its greatest purpose, to hold your thighs apart so he can taste your alluring cunt.

Keegan brought out his tongue, giving your folds a kitten lick before blowing air into your cunt. He watched as your body shivered and chuckled to himself. You’re so hopeless and it’s feeding into his brain, nurturing the desire to fuck you dumb, using you like a cocksleeves exactly how you would beg him to. Keegan thoroughly pushed his index and middle fingers through your puffy lips, he tugged and turned so that a  good layer of your saliva could be seen once he drew his fingers out. With his left hand, Keegan formed a V shape with his fingers to spread your cunt apart, taking in the sight your walls contracted, matching his own breathing rhythm. Keegan pushed his fingers in slowly and your hot, humid walls immediately responded to the sudden invasion by squeezing him harder, making him suck a breath in, almost whimpering due to how delicious your tight hole was milking him in. 

With his fingers scissoring in, stretching your entrance out, his tongue lap around the clit, circling, sucking and biting down on it just to see your body tremble from pleasure. He drank on your juice, letting it drip over and covering half his face while he fucking his tongue in, lapping on every juice that spilled out of your pussy. He made himself a thirsty man, dumb on drinking you up like his finest meal in the middle of the night. Keegan was mesmerized by the taste, salty but yet so sweet like how he had always daydream about. His icy blue watched as your thighs shaken, as he was reaching his own climax. He held both your legs open, keeping his left hand on your thigh, the other holding down on your stomach, pushing it downward as his thumbs rub against your clit. The deeper his tongue reached, the rougher he became and a rhythm was found with his hip thrusting into the sheet underneath him. 

Until he noticed that your walls were clenching more so often that he pulled himself out of you. Keegan wanted you to cum on his cock, not tongue for tonight. Huffing, he looked down and to his surprise, his cock slowly sprang up again, slapping against his stomach as if he didn't just leave a trail of cum shot on the bed a second ago. The white trail led from his knees to almost reaching your cunt. While he was familiar with the sight of his transparent, almost liquid-like cum dripping down from your cavern, to see how thick, chunky and white it was tonight could explain how long he had went without your pussy milking him to the verge of tears.

As much as Keegan wanted to eat you out throughout the night, he, himself, could not control the itching and soreness of his cock, having to cum dry as he gave it a few strokes. Hissing ever so slightly, teeth clenched together each time his thumb touched the angry tip. With a quick, smooth stroke, he pushed the foreskin downward as it stood in its glory. The member was a combination of length and thickness, with a pink mushroom tip and a little bump in the middle that could deliciously brush against your G-spot everytime he pushed himself deeper, or bottomed out. 

Keegan knew that his size was larger than what you're used to, it's proven its power every single time he can get his cock inside of your tiny, small, delicious little cunt. Keegan made it his life long mission to make you feel good on his cock, and only on his. He would whisper praise after praise as he had nothing but sweetness to offer you while his hand ran down your body, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh, addicted to the feeling of your skin spilling out between his fingers. 

Carefully, Keegan lined up his dick with your entrance, his left hand spread your cunt out for him as he watched himself sinking in, slowly disappearing into you. 

“Agh, fuckfuckfuckfuck…..” Stream of curse words fell out of his mouth as the tightness and hotness of your cunt made his brain freeze. The contrast between the cold bedroom and your warm walls result in a speechless Keegan. He fell onto his forearms on either side of your head while biting his lips in an attempt to keep himself silent. He knew how his whimpers and moans did to you, and he was afraid that you might wake up to the sight of him so sensitive that he could not push himself any deeper inside of you. 

Keegan sinked his weight down on your body, pushing it deliciously against the mattress when the heat of our body sent electric shots to his brain.  Thus making him clench down on his teeth, face buried into the  middle of your chest. His lips opened and closed, kissing and sucking the spot lightly as he rolled his hips until he finally felt himself  fully inside you. His angry cock throbbed, he could feel the veins brushed against your humid pussy, making you clench down even harder. In which, making him feel even more dumb and horny. 

His pace wasn't slow, yet wasn't fast as a result of his mixed up brain. On one hand he wanted to brutally fuck you stupid, while the other was scared that he could hurt you. 

He slowed down, bottomed out and pulled his cock out only to witness the of your cunt getting oh so attached to his dick that your meat was dragging off outside with a loud ‘pop’, as if begging not be departed from his cock. Keegan immediately slammed back in without hesitation as he slurred. Mouth watered as he pushed himself forward to trade some of his saliva with yours, mixing them up like cocktails in your mouth before slurping them back down his throat. 

Keegan got himself into a rhythm of just bottoming out, slamming in that he found himself lost in pleasure yet again. The pace got rougher and rougher as he pushed your body upward, back arched up like you were inviting him to destroy your inside. You accommodated him so well, so responsive that he suddenly felt doubt that you're faking your sleep. Because how could you possible asleep with how he was fucking you right now. The room was filled with skin slapping sound, your cunt made a sloppy sound when his dick came back in, the air was humid with the addicting sex smell and the bed cricket ever so slightly. 

His cock continued stretching you out, molding your pussy into a shape that could take in whatever he gave you. Keegan dreamt of rearranging your inside so that he could forever pinning you down and slid your panties off easily like this. His cock would be kissing your cervix again and again. At some point, he was thrilled to think that it might open up widely soon so that he can dump his cum inside while you continuously sucking them in. Your juice overflew, forming a delicious white base around the base of his cock as he watched your cunt flutter open for him. While the tip was teasing your cervix, his little bump in the middle was doing its magic while constantly stimulating your G-spot. Sometimes, he caught your moaning and panting. If he was the person 5 minutes ago, he would slow down but now, he would love to take that risk. Maybe the sight of you waking up to the sudden soreness of your core, eyes filled with shock then shifted into the back of your head when he slammed back in, rocking your body backward had him giggling to himself like a madman. 

His cock exited and entered thus his thrust became more and more sloppy. Keegan could feel his climax in the back of his mind as he held you closer, one hand on your back, pressing your chest onto his as he pounding on your faster and faster than before his cock vibrated violently inside of you. 

"Agh… yes yes, t-taking me in so well, sweetheart. You're so good~... " Keegan slurred as his seed, thick and creamy, spilled out of his cock started to fill you up, painting your wall luscious white. He rolled his hips a bit more, despite his exhibition in an attempt to keep all his semen in your small and tight pussy before pulling out. His hand caressed your tummy as he felt it swell from how much cum he stuff you with as he leaned down to kiss it.

"Oh, fuck fuck so good, so goddamn good" Keegan hissed as he tried to regain his compulsory and release your body reluctantly. The way he laid you down so gently was a great contrast to the man that pounded on you like an animal minutes. But Keegan was so wrong, thinking that this might be the end because the moment he saw your cunt made a slurp sound before dropping globs (?) after globs of semen onto the mattress got his dick hard again. 

"Fuck this shit, you did this on purpose right?  Got me fucking under your spell right, doll?~" He groan, a moan of both frustration and pleasure as he hold your body up, turning your around. Your face was pushed into the pillow and his arms pulled your ass up for him. The sight was so lewd and he was fucking glad to be the only one to witness your body getting destroyed without you noticing. How could anyone imagine that the tough, cold, icy soldier was such a whore for his lover at night? Drinking in their sight or maybe kissing the foot that they step on him. 

His cock throbbed back alive as the sight registered into his brain, transmitting the horny sensation back down to his dick. Giving it a stroke while leaning downward, Keegan kissed your cunt. His tongue moved carefully to collect off the dripping seed in order to push them back inside of you again. He took a big suck in your clit, leaning back not without releasing it with a big, vulgar 'pop'. With one hand holding your ass up, Keegan gathered his saliva and spit on your cunt as well as his cock. He tapped your entrance with his tipped lightly before sinking back in. 

" ‘m-… god, you're still s-so tight doll" Keegan groaned as he held you by the tummy. His head buried into the crook of your neck, inhaling every single scent that you offered him, the other snaked around to hold onto your hip. 

This time he didn't feel shy anymore as he start his pace strong and forward. With each slapped of his balls against your ass, he could feel the bulge on your stomach reappeared and disappeared. His hand pressed down on it more and more aggressively as the pace picked up. 

His semen and your juice now join together in your tiny cunt that he loved so much. His dick glided effortlessly in and out, yet, didn’t exclude the power and strength. Each thrusts brought out a delicious moan from you that made his brain go mush so completely. Though your body had grown familiar with his animalistic thrust, the juice wasn't, as it still flowed out of your holes each time he went deeper. It glided down from your inner thighs to the sheet, or maybe just dropped down like rain. Either way, the sight only fed into Keegan's mind, edging him to manhandle you more often. 

Because would you look at that? Your body was so weak and fragile, pressing against his abs and solid build. He flipped you over and carried you around like a doll while your face remained the pure and naive look, getting more and more horny the more he kissed your cervix with his dick. When you rapidly squeeze around him again, Keegan rasped and pounded as deeply as possible, mouthing at the crook of your neck, kissing all the previous marks that he left on you when he got home. His cock tilted up as he readjusted himself so his hip had the best angle to get you dump. Drools dropped down from the corner of your mouth as the spine of his dick scraped onto your G-spot again and again.

“Look what a lovely mess you’re for me~” He melted on top of you as he kissed off the sweat that trickled from his chest to your back, cleaning you off or just coating you with a layer of his saliva from inside to out. His hand around your tummy tightened as he reached his high, hips sloppily thrust in. Keegan let out a cry of satisfaction when another pump of his loads got released inside of you as your body happily sucked them into the cervix.

Keegan breathed out slowly as his eyes went watery from how overstimulated himself was for you. He kissed the back of your neck again when laying you down, spooning you in his hand. Chest touching your back in a position that he deem would protect you from the outside world threats but not to his thirst for you.

Keegan smiled happily and intertwined their legs together, he brushed your wet hair away from your face. His cock still buried deep inside as he mumbled praises after praises in his sleep.

What a simp..

#keegan russ x reader #keegan x reader #keegan p russ #keegan p russ x reader #keegan smut #cod keegan #cod ghosts #smut #cw somnophilia

[astarionenjoyer69420]

reader x astarion - "i want an heir"

hi! this is my first fanfiction ever!

summary: ascended astarion has some...desires that only you can provide for him.

warnings: dubcon/noncon, smut, breeding kink, cnc, bondage

(not my gif)

You were his. Forever. Aetherna amantis, he had claimed. Lovers forever. It almost sounded too good to be true. 

You should have known it was too good to be true. 

Being one of Astarion’s spawn, albeit the prized one, was not all it was cracked up to be. Sure, you had a certain degree of protection. And yes, you got to live in this fancy mansion, existing by your lover’s side both day and night. And the bite marks he had gifted you on your neck; well, they were just more reminders that you were his, entirely his, and no one could take you away from him. 

But Astarion had been ascended for a few months now. You had gone from being his only one, his only prized spawn, as he had promised you, to brothers and sisters galore, traipsing up and down the halls of the palace he promised was solely for the two of you. As much as you wanted to complain, you knew your now master would never hear of it. And he would get in one of his moods.  

And when Astarion got in one of his moods…you knew trouble was headed your way. 

And that’s how you came to be completely helpless, arms bound to posts of his velvety bed, stark naked with the nip of chilled air the only thing covering your body, rag shoved in your mouth so you couldn’t even talk to yourself, couldn’t even make any noises besides mere vocalizations. 

At least you still got some individual attention compared to the other spawn. 

He had tied you up…crap, how long could it have been? Hours ago now, most certainly, or maybe that was just you getting in your own head. “Be good, darling,” he had purred, tugging your restraints so hard they dug into your flesh, after he had physically picked you up and forced you onto his bed. “I’ll be back when I’m done for the day.” But he had not said exactly when, and there were no clocks in this ancient room. So you had sat, tears welling in your eyes at the utter humiliation of it all, for what felt like an eternity. And the bastard knew you couldn’t fall asleep, either. 

But there was something else. The longer you waited, the longer the pool of warmth grew between your legs, aching with anticipation for what would come next. Your thighs smushed together, desperate to indulge in any sort of stimulation, imagination running wild as to what your master had planned for you. He had never…done this before. Forced you to submit to him. You were always a good girl. But defying, you realized, had its advantages. And with every bit you wiggled and the leather dug into your wrists, the more slick you felt fountaining from between your legs. 

Low noises from the hall…footsteps. Quick, light footsteps. Your heart thrummed at a breakneck pace in your chest. You would know that stride anywhere. He was back. Your cheeks grew hot, remembering how completely exposed you were, stripped of any choice in him seeing you entirely nude. And you were starting to begrudge that fire in your belly that picked up when you thought about your forced indecency. 

Your lover’s footsteps grew nearer, then stopped as you discerned the sounds of a key turning in a lock. You were practically vibrating with adrenaline when he stepped in the room, swiftly sealing his door behind him, red eyes shifting to your helpless form on his bed.

You couldn’t help it; in the face of such perfection you felt almost dizzy. Power radiated through him, jagged and dark and untamable. Under his cloak, bulging muscles tugged at the fabric, and his white curls boasted perfection, as always. You were so overcome with lust you could barely speak…even if you hadn’t had a gag in your mouth. He was always the most beautiful creature you had ever laid eyes on, but the commanding swagger he exuded after he became master to you and the other spawn was, admittedly, a great look for him. 

He approached your body, wisps of a smirk tugging at his perfectly plump lips. “Darling. Tsk. Look at you, still here where I put you all those hours ago.” His smirk widened, becoming overt. “Not that you had much of a choice…I mean, look at you.”

“Mmph,” you tried to respond, your inaudible reply sending a flood of humiliation to your head, and you became aware of a soft thrumming in your nether regions. God, you had no idea you were so into this, being completely and utterly helpless and so degraded, but you supposed you were just along for the ride at this point. 

A pause. Thirsty eyes gazed into yours, never breaking eye contact as his overclothes were shed, and you tried (in vain) not to ogle his perfectly defined body; he had to be handcrafted by the gods themselves. You were grateful for even this tiny moment to soak him in; he was so busy nowadays.

“Darling, I have a proposition for you.” 

Your eyes darted to his face, which had abruptly transformed into something more serious, more pensive. You really hoped this proposition had something to do with his mouth and a few choice body parts, although it had been mostly you servicing him like that since the ascension. “Mmph?”

He stepped closer to the bed, and he was so close you could almost (metaphorically) taste him; every inch of his flesh was perfect, and you longed to be able to touch him, to reach out and trail your fingers down his abs, caressing his marble figure, lowering your hand down to his happy trail and lower…lower…

He inhaled sharply, taking time to fully release his breath from his lungs. “Darling, it can’t be any surprise you’re my favorite of the bunch of these…creatures. You know, we genuinely had something before…all of this. It was cute, yes, cute, the way you stared at me, the flawed…thing I was before I became unstoppable. Unkillable.”

Okay, not off to the best start by calling you and the rest of the spawn creatures, but you would take it for now. Especially because he was really hot. Like, really hot. And missing him all day helped matters as well.

“And so, now to my point. I have been…thinking recently. About the future. About expanding my network, so to speak.” His brow crinkled, and he began to pace, back and forth by the foot of the bed. “And how, since you’re usually so terribly obedient, how I could honor you in some way, perhaps by making you a part of that future.”

He stopped pacing, averting his gaze to rest on you, his eye contact almost too intense to bear. “After today, I realized you couldn’t be trusted anymore to serve me. Struggling, resisting your master simply will not do. Which is why this is going to happen now, regardless of any of those pesky opinions you might have about it.” He spat the word opinions out like it was poison on his tongue, and unfortunately the growl in his voice made the heartbeat between your thighs thrum more intensely.

“I want an heir. And you’re going to carry him for me.”

Silence. Your pulse skyrocketed, feeling like a hummingbird in your chest, but your brain had not been able to process his words yet. An heir? As in, like, a child? A…pregnancy? No, no, that wasn’t possible between two vampires. Unless… “Mmph…”

“I know, darling, aren’t you just so thrilled to hear the news,” he cooed, reaching out, cool fingers cascading slowly down your cheek, every nerve in your body alight at the simple touch. “It can happen, you know. Between vampire and spawn.”

And he was by your ear, you flashing back to nights in camp right before he would bite down on you, excitement zinging through your body like a rogue boomerang. His whisper surrounded you, tickled your neck, had you crying between your thighs. “And you would look just so pretty all swollen with my child. Body completely belonging to me. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Logistically, you were panicking. Even if what he was saying was true, who knew if it was, that he could…get you pregnant in the first place, you had never been the maternal type. Your life as an adventurer had prohibited any thought of parenthood to ever cross your mind, and you figured you had officially forfeited that path once your heart had shuddered to a stop after your master’s ascension.

Logistically, sure, yes, bad idea. But an ever-growing part of you; one bellowing as it invaded you, sent waves of bliss through your body, moistened your inner thighs; wanted this. Wanted it bad, wanted it more than anything. You would be his, all his, a display of submission so great it physically took hold of you. None of the other spawn would have that privilege. And moment by moment, this was all looking more and more alluring. “Mmph…”

You felt yourself flush again as the vampire hopped into the bed, positioning himself so he was completely on top of you, using his two arms to balance himself, making you look at him directly in his glowing, almost ravenous eyes. Up close, it was even more unfair that he oozed perfection; unmarked skin, smelling of bergamot, rosemary and fine brandy, so tantalizing it made your head spin. Though you wanted to resist, wanted to protest, wanted to try and kick him off of you, Astarion was using the full extent of his vampiric charisma on you.

You couldn’t do anything but stare as he lowered himself to your neck, brushing gently against your collarbone at first, an involuntary moan escaping from your lips, only slightly resenting yourself for how much you would inevitably show you enjoyed this a little too much. With a low chuckle, he nipped lightly at your neck, not yet drawing blood, pain intermingling with pleasure as you knew he was marking you. He loved to do this, especially when he was in one of his moods, teasing you and working you up until you were begging him to give you pain, give you anything.

“Mmm…” you murmured as his teeth scraped your flesh, puncturing you, penetrating you, all over, as if your entire neck was his to maim. Your neck was throbbing, no doubt blooming now with marks all over, and you loved every second of it. You wanted the other spawn to know you were his, that you had the honor of being marked by him. 

Your hips bucked into him, once again desperate for any kind of touch, even just one lone finger. Your wrists yanked at the restraints as your body made itself known, shame of being completely nude gone, just wanting some release. 

Astarion pulled back, breathing hard, something gleaming in his eye. It wasn’t hunger, but it was close. Hunger for…something else. Something more than blood could give him. “Wear your hair back tomorrow,” he growled. “I want everyone to see what you let me do to you.” 

You nodded meekly, pulsing between your legs nearly painful, being fairly certain you had soaked the sheets. Although you knew you might be punished for it, you continued to try and grind on your master, though the angle wasn’t quite right. And he knew damn well what he was preventing you from doing, splayed completely on top of you, deadening any hope of movement in your legs for the time being. 

Astarion grinned. “I love it when you’re so good for me. See, it isn’t that hard, now is it?”

You shook your head, widening his smile, being only able to watch as he grabbed your breast, massaging it slowly with his hands, earning another choked moan from you as he pinched your nipple hard between two of his slender fingers. “Maybe if you were a bit more obedient this morning, you would get something of a choice in this matter.” 

His other hand made its way to your other breast, squeezing tightly. “But now…cute little sluts that like getting tied up need to get taught a lesson.” Your body was on fire, the shape of his large erection now prominently pressing on your thighs, and you dripped with want- no, need. “You want to get knocked up by me so badly, hm? You fought against me so hard this morning, but you want me to own your body for nine whole months more than anything, is that right?”

Any logical thoughts you harbored had sailed away long ago. “Mmm…” you replied in affirmation, drunk on him, his scent, his scarlet eyes, the low intonation of his voice, the way you were helpless, you had no defense, he could fuck a baby inside of you with no resistance. 

“Good girl,” he replied, and to your humiliation his hand trailed downward, dancing on your skin ever so slightly, goosebumps raising on your arm as he made his way between your legs, nearly casually dragging his index finger up the side of your folds. You gasped, the stimulation almost too much to bear, the bed quaking as your whole body seized with pleasure.

“Tsk, tsk,” he intoned, drawing his hand away as quickly as it had come, your clit thrumming with disappointment. “You have such a pretty little pussy, positively, delightfully soaked by me.” A low growl. A pause. Then: “Too bad I’m going to fucking ruin you for anyone else.” 

Before you could think, before you could react, his hand was back on you, aggrandizing slow circles being drawn around your clit, your heartbeat so loud you could barely hear his whispering. “Have to prepare you to be bred, darling. Have to give you so much pleasure your body knows me, and only me.”

Your legs shook, warm, radiant pulses emanating through every limb in your body, every neuron welcoming his touch, his filthy words, your complete and utter submission. You were already close- fuck, how were you already close? You pressed your pussy against him, trying to ride this high, to feel his beautiful hands while they were there. You began to tremble.

As if he could read your mind, his pace quickened, stroking you with renewed firmness, pressing down on your clit directly with his thumb, making you see stars. “Greedy,” he chided, his reproach only making you want him more, climbing higher and higher toward your release, flames licking at your core. “How does it feel to be defenseless? Totally at my mercy? Subject to the whims of your master, totally and utterly mine?”

You practically yelled as your body prepared you to cum, muscles tensing, his velvet voice so close to tipping you over the edge.

Then, he stopped.

Stopped point-blank, withdrawing his hands, sitting up, your body humming with broken promises, with betrayal. With wide eyes, you stared at his godly figure, silently beseeching him for an answer, for him to keep touching you, for…anything. You were a sopping mess, a puddle, your clitoris swollen with need. Tears sprung forward, much to your embarrassment. This wasn’t fair. You needed him.

You had apparently become upset presumptuously, because your lover had taken you to the edge and then ceased because he wanted to give you the proper treatment. This became obvious as the clothes on the lower half of his body were shed, you unabashedly reveling in the show, a huge, thick pale cock springing forward from his pants as they crumpled to the floor.

You always wondered how you could take him. Conservatively, he must have been eight inches, and you could barely wrap a hand around his girth. It had taken your breath away the first time you had seen it, one of your sweeter sexual meetups, a drunken encounter after a party, what seemed like ages ago now. It was sweet, him taking the lead, servicing you over and over again being the main event, him whimpering with carnal lust every time you so much as brushed against his length. But sweetness had been gone from your bedroom for a while now. Not that you minded so much. This…was also nice. Your mouth began to salivate staring at his perfect cock, wanting in equal measure for him to be inside of you and to taste him. 

Unfortunately, your master knew you too well, unabashed smarminess plain as day across his face after catching you ogling. He threw his head back to laugh; something you had never heard addressed to you before a few months ago, sadistic and mocking. “My little pet is so terribly desperate for this cock, isn’t that right, darling?” As you moaned your confirmation, he pushed your legs apart, the chill of the castle room whispering on your wet pussy, him smiling as he did so. In fact, he almost looked positively giddy to have you here, with no one to aid you. “Be a good little fuckdoll and take it, hm?”

You weren’t thinking about logistics anymore. You weren’t thinking about whether what he wanted was possible in the first place. All you knew, all you could register, all you could feel, was your body being folded in half, your legs nearly touching your shoulders, and your lover’s strikingly beautiful form above you, like a siren, like original sin himself. 

“Let’s cut the pretense, darling,” he purred, and you could feel him line himself up with your core, your body reading yourself for him, the tip of his cock dancing among your slick folds, your body writhing and spasming with need. “I’m not going to be gentle, nor must I be to give you my most precious gift, my son. You’re going to be stuffed full of my seed by the time I’m done with you, and you’re going to absolutely adore it. Understood?”

Astarion thrust forward, snapping into you, giving you no time to respond, no time to  adjust to his length. A cry escaped your lips, muffled by your makeshift gag; it felt like you were being torn in two, your pussy burning with the stretch of his width inside you, hitting your cervix, the pinch making your recoil. He began ravaging you, hips snapping back and forth, tears now streaming down your face and onto the silk pillows. He had never fucked you this brutally before, pain quickly ebbing into ecstasy as you clenched around his girth, so perfectly full of him.

Your master groaned, low and deep in his throat, eyes fluttering closed. His tough facade was crumbling, desire unmasked at last. “Always…always so fucking tight for me,” he panted, grabbing your chin, ruby eyes captivating yours as he pummeled you. He was a sight to behold, mouth ajar as he drew in breath, fangs glistening in the candlelight, smoldering gaze on your face. “G-gods above.”

The sound of your lover pumping inside of you permeated the stone room as if it were a heartbeat. Your mind spun, unable to focus on anything but the sensation of his cock impaling you, whimpering as he shifted his angle oh-so-slightly and hit your most sensitive spot. He knew how bad you wanted to be put in your place, the way his length dripped with your moisture revealing it, no perception checks necessary. 

“That’s right, darling,” Astarion cooed, recovered from the dominant edge slipping during his entrance, hips bucking faster within you, hammering your sweet spot. Dark spots danced at the edges of your vision. “Tell me, who’s my good little slut?”

Moaning through your gag, your walls eagerly clenched hard around him, feeling as if you were floating through the small pinches in your cervix as he thrust. It was you, you knew it was you, he knew it was you. You were his, mind, body, and soul. You couldn’t put any coherent thoughts together, and all you knew is that you wanted him as deep as he could go. 

He took you like that for a while, until you could feel your release approaching once again, the rhythm of Astarion inside of you so intense now you could barely breathe. Your fingernails dug into his back, earning a sharp hiss from the vampire, who in turn finally tore his eyes away from you to sink his fangs into your neck. Gasping at the sudden ache blossoming through your throat, you lost control. A wave of bliss tumbled through your body as you screamed, your orgasm ripping through you like a trail of fire. Astarion fucked you through it, every thrust to your overstimulated core making you see stars as you felt your blood slip further through his porcelain lips. 

As your climax receded, your vampire drew back, mouth and chin smeared bright crimson. You recalled the first time you had let him feed on you, the night you found out he was a vampire; he was careful, and he knew not to take so much. His face was softer then, a blush of gratitude touching his dialogue. Memories of that first night seemed so far now as you examined the beast before you, all sharp angles and lust.

“Well, isn’t this just perfect,” he sighed. “Thank god you’re so enamored with me. Conceiving is so much easier this way.”

And he began again, thrusting even harder than before. 

You could barely take it, the sensation of his cock burrowing even deeper inside of you, and you became conscious of embarrassingly inhuman noises you were eking out. Astarion gripped your chin, forcing eye contact as he continued to ravage you, minute beads of sweat trailing down his ivory face. Fingers dug into your face as you gazed into the vampire’s eyes, their shade of scarlet deeper than ever, unable to think about anything but his steely regard, futilely attempting to choke out his name. Smirking at your failed attempt, of course he was. He always made you feel so good, and unfortunately, he knew it. 

“Fantastic,” he cooed. “That’s my good fucking girl. You like this, don’t you? To be nothing but a toy for me. To be completely and totally vulnerable…” He hammered into you harder, your entire body nothing but a vessel centered around him, your sex practically chanting his name. His words sent pure shock to your core; resistance was futile and the new gush of wetness between your thighs proved it. Liking it was certainly inside the realm of possibility. Adoring it was far more likely. 

The bed groaned beneath your entangled forms, and your lover leaned in toward you, teeth grazing the top of your ear. “I’m close, my sweet.” And you felt yourself clenching around him much more, body thrumming with the promise of your shared release. 

With a grunt, Astarion dropped his face to ensnare you in a kiss as his warmth flooded into you, thrusting sporadically as he filled you to the brim. “Fuck,” he breathed as he forced himself deeper into you, taking care that none of his seed leaked from your eager hole. “Good girl, take all of it.” 

He grabbed your thighs, forcing your bottom half upwards, cum dripping further down into you, the angle change hammering you right in your most sensitive spot. You cried out as your release hit you like a freight train, muscles melting and becoming liquid, Astarion’s slow deep thrusts prolonging your nirvana. Ripples of adrenaline rushed through you as you felt his release pool in you, knowing undoubtedly that his rough breeding had worked. He decreased his speed until he was at a stop, your legs feeling awfully similar to jelly, as you basked in a combination of afterglow and shock at what had transpired. 

You stayed interlocked and still for a few minutes, your master’s breathing even and heavy, explaining in a whisper that he had to make sure the process was successful. You felt each beat of your heart in your chest, and if you had the privilege of language at the moment, you would have reassured him that your body was most certainly going to house his child. Eventually, he unsheathed himself, letting your hips back down to the four-poster bed, and you watched his statuesque form stand and begin to clean himself. After he had finished, with a smirk he made his way over to you and gently wiped your thighs of his release. 

You could do nothing but watch as he began to dress himself back into the armor he had previously worn, silently wondering if you were going to be let free.

Astarion didn’t even turn around as he spoke to you. “My pet, I think it only fair you remain in this bedroom for as long as it takes to successfully knock you up. I want you nice and helpless against me until I know for certain you’re too dependent on me to go anywhere. Shall we repeat this process…I don’t know…twice a day?”

Twice a day. For as long as it took until he could tell you were pregnant. Verbalizations strained against your gag, but you were completely ignored as Astarion walked out of the room, sealing and locking the door shut behind him.

Pregnancy symptoms could take a hell of a long time to show up. And maybe, even when they did…you could conceal them for a while. 

If it meant being used like this again, you would have done nearly anything. 

#astarion x reader #astarion fanfic #astarion fanfiction #astarion x female tav #astarion #astarion my beloved #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion smut

[potofstewie]

The Mechanic

The Lowdown: All you wanted was to get your tire fixed on this hot summer day...and maybe a lil something extra to beat the heat. Luckily, your trusty mechanic Haganezuka Hotaru knows just what you need.

The things to know: AFAB!Reader, chubby!Reader, Blackfem!Reader, Teasing, both Reader and Hotaru are in their late twenties, hair pulling (m. receiving), domish!Hotaru, choking, missionary, body worship, fingering, cunnilingus, creampie, overstimulation, attempted murder

Pairing: Mechanic!Haganezuka x Reader

W/C: 4.2K

A/N: This was, a 4-month struggle. Motivation was at an all time low, went on hiatus, reblogs were/still are scarce and I was in the lows. But then I said "you know what, my babies need to eat. I have to do what I have to do to make sure we eat." So I popped my pussy on this because as a mother I make sure my babies are fed their fanfiction. This fic was inspired by the above panel from GANSTA. ANYWAY ENJOY MWUAH

“Hey, Haganezuka!” 

You lifted your gaze towards an annoyed Kanamori who stood in the doorway of the mechanic shop. “It’s 97° right now! I’m leaving for the day so take a break, you hear Haganezuka?! That goes for you too, y/n! Don’t be a stubborn idiot like him!” He nagged before retreating into the air conditioned shop, not caring to wait on a reaction from the two of you. A soft sigh left your glossed lips as you gazed upwards into the cloudless summer sky, the sun harshly beating down upon the earth. All you wanted to do was get your tire changed but alas, Hotaru Haganezuka had other plans.

You had to agree with Kanamori, it was way too hot to be outside. Especially when you’re standing in a shadeless mechanic lot watching the very man that insisted on doing every little thing possible to your car from checking the oil to changing the battery. “Don’t be an idiot, a mechanic must always check these things! Just leave it to me!” Is what he proclaimed, arguing that you should be grateful that he was willing to do so much on the spot. Contemplating Kanamori’s demand, you looked back down at Hotaru, working in a silent frenzy as he changed your battery. 

You couldn’t tell if it was due to the heat or your emotions, but you felt your cheeks burn as you watched him. You didn’t mind admitting it, Hotaru was a bit of a looker; especially now. His long black hair had been tied back in a bun, loose strands sticking out and some on his forehead while his thick sharp-angled eyebrows furrowed in concentration. A black t-shirt rested on the back of his neck leaving his muscled torso exposed to the sweltering heat; the top part of his mechanics jumpsuit tied around his waist. Wiping the sweat off your chest with your tank top, you watched in silent awe as a single trail of sweat ran down his arm; bicep flexing with every crank of the ratchet. 

“Aren’t you gonna go inside?” You asked, watching his glove covered hands work with practiced movements. You stopped yourself from sighing as the image of his fingers rapidly pumping into your sopping pussy entered your mind. Instinctively gripping the bottom of your shorts, you tried to keep yourself in check, pussy squeezing at nothing but disappointing air. For about a year now you’ve had a thing for Hotaru. However, with his stand-off nature and how busy he was, it was a bit difficult to get closer with him on a more personal level. 

A throb rang inside you as you watched Hotaru slowly stand at his full height, leaning back slightly as desired hands held the old battery. “I’m busy. Why don’t you go in?” He wiped a few strands of hair away from his forehead as he set down the battery and picked up the new one, his sharp hazel eyes side-eyeing you from a half-lidded gaze. “It’s not like you’re doing anything. You’re just torturing yourself with this damn heat.” And with his last word, he leaned back into the engine, eyes focusing on the task at hand. 

You wiped your sweat covered palms on your shorts as you looked towards the street. Despite the heat being troublesome, people still walked around, loud music blaring from passing cars. “You know I only came here to get my tire changed. If anything, you’re the one torturing yourself with all this extra stuff.” You retorted, settling your gaze back to the man next to you as you crossed your arms.

“You should be glad I’m doing this at all. For free, no less.” He mumbled, wagging the ratchet in your direction. You played with the hem of your tank top as Hotaru grabbed his shirt and wiped his face, dark eyes fixated on your plush thighs that soaked in the sunlight, giving them a delectable glow. He softly exhaled as he eyed the bit of fat that spilled from your shorts, the fabric being a little tight on your thighs. He’d give anything to touch your thighs, to have them encase his head as he sucked on your sensitive bud and licked at your drenched folds. To feel your thighs wrap around his waist as he pounded into your tight cunt relentlessly.

“Why for free? Not that I’m complaining.” You inquired, desperately hoping to get a full conversation out of the asocial man while snapping him out of his lewd thoughts. If the conversation wasn’t about cars or the neighborhood kid Tanjiro that accidentally destroyed his prized motorcycle that one time, Hotaru would be a clam. With a sigh, he closed the hood before facing you, finally finished with his self assigned work and leaned on the side of the car.

“Think of it as a one time deal, you are a valued customer after all.” He answered plainly, trying his hardest not to watch a sweat drop disappear down your cleavage. You hummed at his answer, curious eyes traveling across the prominent veins in his crossed forearms. You envisioned his work worn fingers encasing your throat, his words almost going out one ear. “However, I wouldn’t mind some dango as payment.” 

“Just..dango?” You stepped closer to him, confidence flowing through your veins. Maybe it was the heat getting to you or the boredom of doing nothing except standing around, you didn’t know exactly what came over you. But you hoped that maybe he too was on the same page. You couldn’t be any more right. With the ghost of a smirk, Hotaru uncrossed his arms and closed the gap between you both, the smell of his cologne wafting into your nose. You felt immense heat rise to your cheeks as he slowly took off a glove, one by one pulling it from his fingers, his eyes never leaving yours. 

“You got something better?” One glove off, the other to go. You bit your bottom lip slightly as you nodded, your cherry flavored lip gloss enchanting him. With his pointer finger and thumb loose in his glove, Hotaru scoffed, happy about the new direction the day was taking. “You wanna show me, pretty girl?” With a quick tug, he finally took off his glove and shoved them in his back pocket before quickly pulling you closer, evoking a soft gasp from your lips. As a soft hum rumbled from his chest, his rough hands found refuge on your soft and plump ass; rubbing it in slow, small circles with slight pressure from the base of his palms as if he was a masseuse. 

“But, we’re out in public..” You said slowly, trying to remind him of where the two of you were but you couldn’t help but stare deeply into his lust filled eyes, his gaze slowly lowering to your agape lips. With an answering hum, Hotaru squeezed your ass slightly before placing his thumb under the hem of your shorts, the digit rubbing the lace on your underwear. 

“So?” He said simply, thumb and finger lightly tilting your chin up as he inched his lips closer to yours. “Let ‘em watch.” And with a short exhale, his soft lips crashed with yours; your lip gloss making its sticky mark on him. A soft moan escaped your throat as his tongue swiped at your bottom lip; asking for permission. You felt another, more harsh, squeeze on your ass as you caved in and gave him entry, his tongue immediately exploring and dancing with your own. The warmth of his velvet lips did nothing but cause you to sink further into the addictive feeling of lust that overwhelmed your senses. You were caught in a mind numbing daze as Hotaru finally pulled back from the intense kiss, a string of saliva connecting the both of you. 

As soft pants left your messy lips, he left a small, ticklish kiss to your neck. “I don’t wanna give them an entire show..c’mon.” With a sly smile and his hands still cradling your ass, Hotaru began to walk towards the shop, forcing you to awkwardly walk backwards. A chuckle left Hotaru as he relished in the awkward position he had you in, finding enjoyment in your flustered expression. 

“Hotaru..” You pleaded, your mind buzzing with the endless things that could happen, your pussy pulsating with every step taken towards the office and light squeeze Hotaru would gift to your plump ass. Once you both crossed the threshold to the messy office, his lips immediately found yours again, lightly nipping at your bottom lip as he pushed the door closed with his foot and guiding you to the messy desk. Momentarily removing himself from the sweet taste of your lips, Hotaru wiped off all the papers that were strewn on the desk before roughly planting your ass on the width of the dark wood; eyes swimming with carnal desire. 

Rubbing his hands up and down your thighs, Hotaru left a hot kiss on your clavicle before latching on and evoking a soft moan from your mouth. Kicking off your slides as your nimble hands snaked their way up to his neck, pulling off the shirt that he left there before tangling your fingers into his dark hair. You tugged gently at his scalp as he started peppering his bites and kisses all over your chest, a low groan slowly leaving his body. Pulling away once more, his eyes zeroed in on the cute stomach pudge you had. He wanted to run his rough hands over the soft body part and be hypnotized by it. Lifting off your tank top and pulling down your bra, Hotaru dived back in for his new target, mouth latching onto your nipple, his tongue running over your dark areola.

A saccharine moan was ripped from you as you felt his teeth nip and pull at the hardened numb while his rough hands unclasped and threw your bra to the side before gently pressing on your stomach, urging you to lay back. Following his command, you could feel his hands snake even lower, fingers tugging both your shorts and panties off. On instinct you widened your legs, the cold air kissing your folds while Hotaru brought his waist closer between your legs, still preoccupied by your irresistible breasts. Placing more kisses, Hotaru trailed them upward to your neck before stopping, his thumb lightly touching your clit. You released a soft whine as his thumb slowly started to massage your clit in small circles.

As his mouth left marks upon your neck, your hand gripped his forearm as you felt his fingers slowly enter into you. Feeling a sharp canine graze your warm skin, you released a soft gasp that signaled Hotaru to pump his fingers into you slowly. Lewd noises echoing in the office with every slow draw back and hard pump his fingers did to your pussy. 

“I know you want more than this, right ma?” He teased, his pants growing tighter as he soaked in your naked body. Fingers prodding your folds and getting themselves coated in your slick only deepened Hotaru’s hunger for you, for your taste. With a slight nod, your hands found themselves fondling your breasts awaiting whatever action this man would do next.

With a deep hum, Hotaru licked his fingers clean of your nectar before trailing more of his hot kisses south. From your neck to your stomach and to the edge of your clit, his searing kisses sent tingles up your spine. As he left kisses on the inside of your thighs, you couldn’t help but squirm a bit, the anticipation killing you. “Don’t rush me, Princess. I’m getting there, just leave it to me, alright?” He spoke, his breath gently gracing your impatient cunt. With another hum, his mouth finally latched onto your pussy, an airy moan leaving your lips. Hotaru’s tongue ran itself over and between your folds that were accompanied with intervals of harsh sucking to your clit. 

Soft mewls drifted from your lips as your fingers traversed and gripped and tugged onto his black locks, undoing his bun further while your other hand kneaded and rolled one of your abandoned breasts. His rough hands held your thighs with an iron grip as you squirmed and relished in the feeling of his warm tongue gliding in between your folds, drinking in your nectar. With a final suck on your clit, Hotaru began dragging his tongue upwards on your body; stopping right in the valley of your breasts as the interesting taste of your cocoa butter lotion settled on his tongue. 

Raising himself up, Hotaru couldn’t help but be immersed in the beauty your body exuded, from the pudge of your stomach to how erect your nipples were as they battled the cold air. Muttering a low “fuck” to himself, he slowly started to undo the sleeves of his jumper that were tied to his waist and watched your once blissed face contort to one of anticipation and desperation. Hotaru knew exactly what he was doing, taking his sweet time, testing you. Seeing how far he can go with his slow, sensual movements before you snapped and pleaded with him to run his rough hands on your body once more. 

With his head tilted down and eyes looking up at your face through his dark lashes, his hands languidly freed himself from his clothing, the ghost of a smirk gracing his façade as he watched you take in the view. Your body shivered with both excitement and worry as he finally stood before you in the nude. A dark happy trail guided your curious eyes downwards to his hardened dick. In all its 8-inch glory, his hardened dick carried a bead of precum on its reddened mushroom tip; a large vein adorning its underside. With a bit lip, you watched with desire as he lined himself to your entrance but stopped abruptly, tip a mere hair breadth from your impatient and needy cunt. It was almost like a shot of molten lava coursed through your veins when your eyes angrily shot up to his face and witnessed his mouth slowly form into that of a mocking smile; mischief ladened eyes watching your reaction. 

“Are you fucking for real right now? You’re a fucking di-” Your insult was cut with a breathy inhale as you felt his cock finally enter your sopping cunt, the stretch giving you a burning yet intoxicating sensation. A shuddered breath of pleasure morphed into a low chuckle as Hotaru relished in both your reaction to his cruel teasing and to the feeling of his cock slowly being engulfed by your warm walls. His rough hands held you by your waist, eyes watching your chest shudder with each inching movement within your pussy. 

“What was that? I didn’t hear you..” Hotaru teased as your hands encased his own as his pelvis finally met with your skin. With a slow sigh, Hotaru rubbed his thumbs on your hip bones, giving you a chance to get used to his size. Giving you a chance to talk more shit. 

“C’mon, tell me what you were gonna say, I wanna know..” He mocked as he slowly drew his hips back, the feeling of his thick cock dragging along the ridges of your pussy eliciting a soft moan from you. You squeezed his fingers as you screwed your eyes shut, trying your hardest to contain your annoyance. Despite how much you hated the teasing and mocking Hotaru has been doing thus far, you couldn’t help but enjoy the throbs his cruel actions gave to your pussy. 

“I-I said you’re a fucking dick!” Your declaration ended in a squeaked out high note as Hotaru harshly thrusted into you, the desk creaking with his action of shutting you up. Choked out gasps and mewls from your gloss smeared lips interlaced with that of the creaking wood as Hotaru began his cruel treatment to your squelching pussy. Your legs quickly wrapped around his waist as your pussy finally got what it had longed for.

Admittedly, you didn’t know what you were expecting when this moment finally arrived. Yes, you had your expectations in the dark of night when your fingers occupied the warm and soft confinements of your pussy; your mind thinking nothing but how big you hoped he was, if he was either a rough and carnal lover or a slow sensual one, even if he preferred doggy over missionary. But this, ohh, this was beyond your expectations. The pulses of pleasure that emitted from your pussy and traveled throughout your nervous system, the iron grip he had on your waist, and the low grunts and groans rumbling from your favorite mechanic was nothing you expected yet all that you had dreamed for. 

An airy chuckle escaped Hotaru’s lips as he sank further into the pure bliss of his cock being squeezed by your greedy cunt, a nice coating of your cream decorating his equally pleasure hungry cock. The sight of that alone sent shockwaves throughout his body, urging him to thrust faster. Removing his bruising grip on your waist, he unwrapped your legs from his body and pushed them towards your head; work worn hands holding the backs of your knees as sweet moans fell from your mouth at the newfound depth, Hotaru swearing under his breath as he felt his tip give your cervix bruising kisses. 

“Look at all that fucking cream..acting like you can’t stand me, shit..” A rumbling groan interrupted Hotaru’s dirty mocking, the tightness of your pussy nearly sending him into a nonverbal state. “But I know that if I stopped, you’d beg for more..” Hotaru leaned forward, pressing a lopsided kiss to the side of your knee as he drank in your cock drunk expression; lidded eyes rolling back and staccato moans wavering from your agape mouth. Hotaru’s eyebrows twitched in annoyance with your lack of answer, his hips abruptly stopping as a hand encased your throat. 

“Hey, answer me. I won’t start again if I don’t get an answer.” He demanded, ignoring how your abandoned leg pitifully kicked in the air for his grasp again. Your mind was too fuzzy to properly grasp just what was going on, but a quick squeeze to your throat brought you to attention. “You gonna beg for more, mama?” The belittling question dripped from Hotaru’s mouth like honey as you whined, wiggling your waist to finish what you both started. 

“Fuck! Yes, I need you! Please, Hotaru, keep going!” At your wits end, you finally answered the man’s degrading question, body desperately craving for its release. With a satisfied low hum, Hotaru began again but faster; the desk getting louder with each harsh thrust gifted to your needy pussy. You could feel the sticky liquid your pussy oozed out pool onto the desk as Hotaru’s hands nearly folded you in half; the mechanic close to his own relief. 

A rough hand came down to your sticky and stretched pussy, thumb rubbing circles on your sensitive clit that sent bouts of pleasure through your body. Each swift movement his thumb did against your puffy bud, you couldn’t help but have your pelvis follow close behind. His thumb goes up, your hips raise. His thumb goes down, your hips follow. The intricate yet harsh dance your bodies did resounded in the dusty office, the desk crying out from all the force, warning of splintering damage.

Your mechanic was absolutely enchanted with it all. He enjoyed seeing your pussy practically be a suction cup; with each draw back your cunt seemed to hold on, practically begging him to stay inside, begging for him to keep going, begging to be painted white with his seed. “I’ll m-make you feel good..fuck, just leave it to me..” Hotaru promised before folding you even further, lips roughly melding with yours and swallowing every pathetic mewl and moan. His lips traveled to your jaw as your vision became spotted and blurry; your release approaching steadfast. 

“ ‘M gonna- ‘M gonna, fuuck, ‘M-” Your choppy declaration couldn’t leave your spit covered lips properly as each thrust interrupted you and forced you to restart your sentence. If Hotaru had half a mind, he would’ve stopped right in his tracks again and have you plead for your orgasm. Fortunately for you, his own release was nearly there, evident by his thrust getting ever so sloppy with each push into your stretched pussy. 

“Y-yeah? Gonna cum f’me baby?” His words sent a throb to your cunt, your head nodding sluggishly. A breathy chuckle left Hotaru as your hands encased his own that held onto the back of your knees. “Fuuck, you can do it baby..cum on this cock, lemme hear you..” As if on command, your body jerked. A choked, drawn out moan resounded from your mouth as your back arched up, your orgasm running its course through your body. 

You pussy contracted on his dick with every jerk your body did as you endured your powerful yet anticipated release. It felt as if you reached nirvana; bliss being the only thing coursing through your mind. Your mechanic, on the other hand, was starting to lose it. He wanted to keep going, to drag this out as much as possible, but your orgasm did nothing but foil his plan. Sweet, high and barely restrained whimpers tumbled from his lips as he basked in your contractions. 

Coming down from your high, you couldn’t help the tears welling up in your eyes from the overstimulation of his thrusts; Hotaru’s pathetic whimpers coaxing you to pay attention to him, to see your quick to anger, hard to understand and hard to socialize mechanic be reduced to a pitiful state as his orgasm finally arrived. 

Hotaru’s whimpers abruptly stopped as his hips staggered, only producing miniscule thrusts as his hot cum decorated your tight and sopping walls; his fingers twitching with each pulse of cum. As if a switch flipped in his head, your mechanic groaned deeply and loudly as his body lurched forward, subconsciously trying his hardest to go as deep as he possibly could into your cum stuffed pussy. Shaky, heavy pants heaved from him as you groaned softly at the newfound sensation of his cock emptying inside you, some of it oozing out of your cunt. 

Sighing heavily, the spent mechanic slowly and carefully pulled out, eyes entranced by the sight of your mixed liquids stretch into thin lines connecting you two as his cock fully left you. Long, rough fingers lowered themselves to your entrance and separated your folds more, the gentle action sending a slight shockwave through you. He was absolutely enthralled by your gaping and abused cunt. His fingers continued playing in your pussy, ears completely deaf to your moans of overstimulation. 

In and out. In between folds, up and down. Those were the simple yet powerful dance moves Hotaru’s fingers did, his mind blank besides the fascination of seeing your messy cunt decorated. This state of mind was similar to the one he’d be in whenever working on the current machine in the lot. Your legs twitched with each move his fingers did against your battered and bruised pussy. “H-Hotaru, you’re gonna make me cum..” your soft, tearful declaration received no response from the mechanic who was too deep in his work. 

To your, albeit painful, enjoyment, his fingers kept dancing nonstop despite your mewls and words of pleasure. With hitched breaths, you couldn't help the pleasure formed tears decorate your lashes as your second orgasm came fast approaching. Cum coated thumb and pointer finger gently pinched and rubbed your clit, your sensitive and delicate bud eliciting electricity through you. As if on cue with Hotaru’s newfound enjoyment with your clit, your second release finally came. 

Saccharine moans dripped from your mouth as it washed over you, your body shivering with each intense pulse of pleasure. It wasn’t until you reached out and gripped Hotaru’s veiny forearm that he stopped his unintentional torture; his sharp eyes leaving their enchanted state and giving you a look of puzzlement. Hotaru was confused as to why you stopped him. Couldn’t you see he was busy toying with your pussy? “What’s the problem?”

An airy chuckle of disbelief flew from your mouth as you carefully raised yourself up on your elbows, dull pain starting to form below the waist. “You’re awful, y’know that ‘Taru?” Hotaru’s large hand encased yours as he pulled you forward, helping you sit up properly. A slowly growing smirk adorned his face as it finally dawned onto your mechanic what he’d done. 

“What do you me-” Before he could properly feign innocence, a loud crash emitted from outside followed by a loud and rushed ‘I’m so sorry, Haganezuka-San! It happened again!’ You watched your mechanic in absolute confusion as he swore loudly and hastily got dressed, rushing to pull a knife from the desk drawer. “That fucking idiot! Tanjiro! Don’t run away from me!” 

“Wait!-” Your words died out as your ever so hot tempered mechanic ran out, not caring to clean you up or even just talk to you for a bit. You sat there, stumped on what just transpired, your mind running over all the things that happened from watching your crush fix your car, getting absolutely fucked out of your mind by your crush, and watching your crush attempt to murder a child. Truthfully, you wondered if moving forward in the future with him as your new source of pleasure was worth putting up with his attitude. As the dust particles in the air floated and the ticking of the wall clock filled the silence of the room, you reached your firm conclusion.

It’s fucking worth it.

ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ, ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ, ʙɪɴᴅ ᴏʀ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ ᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ɢᴏ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴏᴛᴏꜰꜱᴛᴇᴡɪᴇ™ 2023

Tags: @chrollohearttags @tojisblondebimbo @toji-dabi-wife @comatosebunny09 @nymphoheretic @spaceforher @love-2-fast @p3ach-gyals @itmightbejo @jellymantra33 @bontensbabygirl @chickenwingsandfries3425 @starrbright @sleepdepriveddork @haji-me-mashite @namjoonsbuspass @koyukiki @twisteddaydreams1135 @garie-gary @heavenlysageee @prettypurplebirb @bigmooncheeks @mousepillz @jenuchi @lunerenzo @bigmooncheeks @heibunniie @doveyrei @wntrsblvd @gobblethiskitty @ezay @marusatonanhin @chile-im-embarrassed @thickbihhwitdagapp @conniesluvrgyal @jasminefaerie @namidaass @tiazvni @ffushiquro @partypom @dawn-bunni @katymae12344 @iluvlay0111 @breadslut69 @grungedog13 @levismommymilker3000 @unknownaqxa @bookworm0ctavia

#kny smut #demon slayer smut #haganezuka x reader #hotaru haganezuka #haganezuka x black reader #haganezuka x black yn #black reader #black reader smut #kny haganezuka #stew’s smut stew #demon slayer haganezuka #original stew

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feverish and faint [entire slendermansion x reader] — smut

An attempt at escaping the eldritch entity that kidnapped you leads to... this. — ft: eyeless jack, masky, hoodie, ticci toby, jeff the killer, ben drowned, and slenderman.

inspired by passed around from @succulentwritings_official on ao3! ♡

author's note: dead dove: do not eat. this fanfiction will contain explicit sexual content, including rape/non-con, dub-con, gangbang(s), tentacles, facefucking, degradation, mild blood, and similar themes.

this is quite literally a slendermansion train. if you don’t like this kind of content, don’t fucking read it. you have been warned.

please read at your own discretion.

this work has not yet been proofread.

You thought you knew what you were getting into when you tried to escape. 

A broken leg. Confinement back in the basement. Maybe he’d rough you up with those tentacles of his. Depending on how much your escape had upset him, or maybe if he was just feeling particularly cruel, you would start hearing static, blacking out. Losing your sense of time, losing your memories. 

All of that, you had mentally prepared yourself for; you had acknowledged the risks at the time and still decided it would be worth it. 

For your friends, your family. All of which were sure to have missed you dearly—it had been months since you were taken captive. It would’ve been worth it for the chance to see them again. 

Even if you were caught, brought back and punished, it would still be worth it. For a second to breathe fresh air. For even a glimpse of the outside world again. For anything, anything besides the stale, dull rooms of the mansion you were trapped in. 

At least, that’s what you believed. 

When you were finally found, approximately two hours later, cowering at the overgrown roots of a tall tree, knees stained with dirt and coagulated blood, face damp with tears, by the very eldritch entity that had ripped you from your peaceful life, you knew you were wrong. 

But it wasn’t until you were dragged back into the mansion, kicking and screaming until your throat was hoarse, knowing that there was nobody to hear you, nobody to save you, that you only started to realize just how wrong you were. 

Your first sign of alarm was when he didn’t say a word, not even after he had brought you back into the mansion, back into your almost luxurious—with velvet curtains and silk bedsheets—yet dreadful bedroom. 

Your second sign of alarm was when instead of snapping your bones or sending you into a coughing fit with blood seeping from your nostrils, the tall, monstrous being ran a bath, filling the bathtub with comforting hot water and vanilla bubbles. 

But the third time was indeed the charm, the last sign you needed to let you know that there was something terrible planned in store for you. 

After all, the premonition of impeding doom was unmistakable as he escorted you into the bath and lathered you up in delicious honey foam, gently scrubbing the grime off your skin. Despite the perfectly warm temperature of the water, you couldn’t avoid the cold, cold feeling of dread as your heart sank down into your gut. 

He was pampering you like a doll, and your heart pulsed anxiously as you tried to figure out why. 

“Why are you doing this?” you meekly questioned, afraid of invoking further wrath. 

The tall man, the one you had now come to know as Slenderman, ignored your question. 

You could feel his voice in your head as he replied. 

“Did you enjoy your little escape, darling?” The words instantly sent a chill down your spine. 

The volume of your heartbeat increased, each thump louder than the last and reverberating within your skull. You could feel your chest tighten, your ribcage clamping down around your lungs like a vice as your breathing quickened. 

“I’m— I’m sorry,” you muttered, curling your legs into your chest, hugging them tight. 

“Oh, darling,” the man made a noise akin to a sigh. “I know you aren’t.”

He reached one of his hands over, long fingers taking ahold of your chin, tilting your head upwards to meet his blank canvas of a face. 

“But, you will be, soon enough.”

You could hear the promise in his words, and you tried to mentally brace yourself for whatever punishment he’d put you through. 

But no amount of preparation would’ve been enough for this. 

—

When you woke up, you were greeted by a shroud of darkness. When you blinked, you could feel your eyelashes flutter against something soft—likely a cloth, a blindfold of some sort. 

This was new. 

You still had faint traces of a headache from what had previously occurred. After bathing you and drying you off, your head was instantly filled with the now familiar buzz of static, and it wasn’t long before your consciousness slipped from your grasp. 

You winced, stirring from your resting position before the dreaded voice once again permeated your skull. 

“Good, you’re awake,” Slenderman spoke. “Right on time.”

Right on time? For what? You weren’t sure that you wanted to find out, but it wasn’t like you really had a say in it. 

“Come on in, everyone,” Slenderman addressed an unknown audience, though it wasn’t hard to guess who he was referring to. Throughout your stay in the mansion, the tall man had made you aware of the presence of others living there. You knew that other people, or possibly creatures like himself resided in the same building as you, though you fortunately never had to meet them. Even during your brief escape, you hadn’t seen anyone else, which you had been thankful for. But it appeared that your luck had ran out, and you were soon to face a fear greater than the unknown. 

You heard a door creak open, then footsteps—though you couldn’t tell yet how many people there were—which came to a shuffling halt after a few seconds. 

The room was silent, save for the pounding rush of blood in your ears. 

“Darling,” Slenderman’s voice drawled on, a hint of amusement audible as you felt tendrils wrap around your limbs, picking you up and placing you on what you guessed to be his lap. “You’ve been rather disobedient lately, haven’t you?”

You didn’t respond, your heart threatening to combust in your chest as your body tensed up. You felt his hands brush against your face as his fingers slipped underneath the cloth covering your sight. 

“You’ll have to be taught a lesson now, dear.” With that, the blindfold was lifted from your eyes, though the sudden brightness of the room proved to be too harsh on your eyes, causing you to flinch, squinting for a few seconds as you adjusted to the light. 

You realized two things at once. First of all, there were numerous men before you, of various different appearances and sizes. And second of all, you were half-naked, the only clothing covering you being a sheer, white mesh lingerie dress and matching panties. 

The realization of what was going on instantly dawned upon you, your eyes widening and blood running cold. 

“No,” you breathed. “No, Slenderman, please, I’m sorry, I won’t do it again—”

“Of course not,” he chuckled, a low rumble in his chest as he laughed. “That’s what I’m making sure of.”

He diverted his attention from you, back to the group of men before you. You counted in your head; there were six of them. 

“Go ahead, gentlemen. You’re free to do with her whatever you want.”

The final words sealing your fate were spoken. As soon as the words were said, two of the men moved forward, advancing towards you. 

The first one to reach you was a man in a tan jacket. His face was concealed behind a white mask with black painted features, dark brown hair falling past it. 

“Should’ve known better than to piss him off,” he snickered. “But I’m definitely not complaining.” 

You could only watch in horror as he unbuttoned his jeans, sliding down the zipper and pulling down both his pants and underwear together, revealing his already erect member. 

You panicked at the sight, condensation beginning to bead up on your forehead as your breathing quickened from anxiety. 

“Please don’t do this,” you begged, but the man merely laughed. 

“No can do, princess,” he answered with a callous tone. “Now get to work and suck it.”

When you didn’t move, merely looked at him with pleading eyes in hopes of the slight bit of mercy, the man grew impatient, roughly grasping a handful of your hair and pulling you forward towards him, your lips mere centimetres from his cock. 

“Open your mouth,” he ordered. You gulped, swallowing the saliva that had pooled in your mouth, trying to get past your own reluctance. 

A harsh slap to your face jerked your head sideways, your cheek instantly stinging in discomfort as you hissed in pain. 

“Open your mouth,” the masked man repeated himself, this time more forcefully. You could only comply, allowing your lips to part slightly. He wasted no time in shoving his cock past your lips, using the hand he had in your hair to push your head down, forcing you to take his length in until the head hit the back of your throat. You could feel your eyes water, tearing up as he aggressively fucked your mouth, thrusting in and out as you struggled to keep up. You tried your best to breathe through your nose, but it didn’t prevent you from gagging on his erection, the discomfort causing the first tear to slide down your cheek. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw one of the other men—black fabric mask with a red stitched on face, dressed in a yellow hoodie and jeans—move towards you. The man with the porcelain mask noticed as well, ceasing his thrusting for a second to address his companion. 

“You want a piece of her too, huh, Hoodie?” You could hear the grin in his voice as he spoke. 

The man in yellow, that you now knew as Hoodie, replied. 

“She’s got a nice body. I have no reason not to.” His voice was softer, lacking the aggressiveness that the former held. You couldn’t really frown, with the man’s erection still in your mouth, but you could feel irritation spike at his comment with the way he spoke about you. As if you were just an object, a piece of meat. Though, at the same time, there was something about that, that elicited a scintilla of dark excitement within you. Something you decided you wouldn’t—you couldn’t—pay any mind to. 

The first man pulled you off of his member with a harsh tug to your hair, a squeak leaving your lips, finally able to make sound again. You took the opportunity to try and protest again, before this went even further. 

“Guys, please,” you whined, knowing your efforts would likely prove to be fruitless. “Please stop.”

The masked man only snickered, further cementing how futile your objections were. You felt as if he was about to make a snarky comment, but instead, the hooded man spoke. 

“Masky, shut her up.” His tone was flatter, colder than before, causing a fresh wave of goosebumps to break out over the surface of your skin. 

Before you knew it, Masky was pushing you back down onto his cock, and you couldn’t do much besides take his length into your mouth, though this time, his movements were slightly slower as he jerked his hips against your mouth. 

With your nose practically pressed up to Masky’s stomach, your vision was rather limited, though you could feel Hoodie’s hands on your skin, making you flinch. 

You could feel his hands trail down your stomach to your hips, but it wasn’t until his fingers brushed against the thin fabric of your panties that you panicked, trying to squirm away from his touch. Your resistance only made the tentacles wrapping around your limbs tighten, which in return caused you to thrash harder against their grip. It wasn’t until they were binding your arms and wrists so tightly that you were worried about your circulation, that you finally stopped trying to break free. It wasn’t like you could even move as that point, anyway, the tendrils holding you perfectly still, inanimate as a statue. 

Your gasp was muffled by the cock in your mouth. Hoodie picked your hips up, lifting them off of Slenderman’s lap so that your stomach was pressed against the eldritch entity’s thighs instead, with your ass in the air. You felt his fingers push your panties aside, exposing your cunt to the cooler temperature of the room, sending shivers down your spine. 

You couldn’t make a sound, Masky picking up the pace as he abused your mouth, your eyes squeezing shut in discomfort, before you received another sharp tug to your hair. 

“Look at me,” he snapped. You opened your watery eyes to meekly glance at him, your vision blurring with tears. 

At the same time, you felt a finger brush against your clit, and you flinched, instinctively trying to wiggle away but there wasn’t anywhere for you to go. 

You could feel that it was likely Hoodie’s thumb when he started rubbing circles around your clit, the unexpected pleasure startling you. As he continued his movements, you couldn’t help but feel good, thanking whatever god was out there that at least your moans were stifled by Masky’s cock as he rapidly thrust in and out of your mouth. 

You could feel his thrusts growing more frantic, but you found it hard to pay much attention with Hoodie’s fingers pressed against your clit, the unwanted pleasure beginning to cloud your judgement. 

You only snapped out of it for a brief second when Masky grunted, his hips jerking to a sudden halt in your mouth, and you could feel liquid, slightly bitter and salty flood your mouth. 

“Drink it all,” he demanded. You complied, doing your best to swallow the fluid, the aftertaste making you grimace as he pulled out, stepping away to redress himself. 

You were glad that he was done for a second—at least this was getting closer to being over than before—but then realized something. There was nothing to muffle your moans, not anymore, and you could only do your best to hold it in, despite Hoodie continuing to play with the sensitive nub of flesh, each movement only further hazing your mind. You were hoping he wouldn’t notice, as you strained to keep yourself from moving your hips, wanting more, but your hopes were in vain when you heard him speak. 

“Enjoying yourself?” Hoodie’s tone was as callous as ever, but it held a hint of sadistic joy, and you were just about to tell him ‘no’ when you felt him slip two fingers past your entrance, a lustful gasp escaping your lips. 

You could feel a wildfire blazing across your cheeks, lowering your gaze to the floor in shame as he worked his digits inside of you, the tips of his fingers rubbing at your g-spot. 

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you denied, trying to hold onto whatever slivers of pride you had left. 

“Is that why you’re so wet?” You couldn’t see him, but you could hear the grin in his voice as his fingers made a particularly lewd, squelching sound inside you. 

You didn’t answer, your embarrassment peaking as you listened to the sounds that your own body was making. 

You couldn’t hold back from whining when he pulled his fingers out, the sudden lack of sensation making you squeeze your thighs together, trying to relieve yourself of the heat building up inside of you. 

You heard some shuffling—likely him undoing his pants—before you heard footsteps, your head snapping towards the source of the sound. 

Another man was approaching you, dressed in a khaki coloured sweater with striped sleeves, complete with jeans as well, though his mask was different than the others, more so resembling a mouthguard with a separate pair of goggles. 

“You should—woo—make her beg for it first,” he suggested, a dark chuckle leaving his lips. The tone of his voice gave you chills, something clearly more sinister than the other two that had spoken so far. 

“I don’t see the need,” Hoodie responded. “You can if you want.” 

The man with goggles shrugged, before turning to you. Behind the goggles, you could see the sadistic gleam in his amber eyes. 

“Mind waiting for a second?” he asked, seemingly to Hoodie, though the question felt rhetorical. 

“No, go ahead.” You were really hoping Hoodie would object, but it seemed like he didn’t have any issue with the former’s antics. 

“Alright,” the man with goggles snickered. “Listen up, buttercup. You’re going to—woo—beg real fucking nice for me, and when I’m satisfied, he’ll fuck you. How does that sound?” 

Awful, you thought, staring at him, aghast. There was no way you were doing this. There was no way you would just give up your own dignity like that. At least, that’s what you wanted to believe, when you felt Hoodie’s fingers rub at your dripping cunt again, but this time, at an agonizingly slow pace. 

You whined, his fingers drawing the laziest of circles around your clit, his touches softer than before, just enough to tease you but not enough to satisfy you. 

The goggled man cackled. 

“Thought you didn’t see the need,” he said. 

“I don’t,” Hoodie restated what he previously said. “I’m just helping you out, Toby.” 

Toby. So that was his name. You kept it in mind—for no particular reason—as Hoodie continued his actions, every passing second a slow torture for you. 

It felt good. You wanted more. You whimpered, feeling any self-control you had left, slip from your grasp. 

“Please,” you finally whispered. “Please, Toby, I want it.” 

You couldn’t look him in the eyes; your ego had been shattered and thrown in the gutter. If there was any occasion befitting for Slenderman’s memory erasure, it would be this. But he wouldn’t be so kind as to let you forget this, you were sure of that. 

“Didn’t hear you, sorry,” Toby taunted, the glee clearly audible in his voice. “Care to repeat yourself—woh—woo—one more time?”

You gritted your teeth, cursing yourself for being foolish and naïve enough to have ever gotten in this situation. 

“Please,” you spoke under your breath. 

“Louder,” he cut you off. To your own horror, you found yourself complying. 

“Please, Toby, I want it,” you cried out, your voice high-pitched and whiny and nothing like you had ever imagined you’d sound. 

“Good girl,” Toby praised you, his voice sickly sweet. 

As soon as the words left his lips, you felt one of Hoodie’s hands grip your hips, pulling them toward himself, the other hand likely lining himself up with your entrance as you felt the tip of his erection press against it. 

He plunged himself inside you with a delightful stretch, eliciting a loud moan from your lips. You were already more than soaked; he was able to easily slide in, much to your further embarrassment. You felt his other hand grip your hip, holding on tightly as he started pumping into you, building up a steady rhythm, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. 

You were getting lost in the pleasure, each thrust of his hips sending a fresh jolt of electricity through your body, when Toby reached down for your face, taking ahold of your chin with his thumb and index finger, tilting your head up towards him. 

He slowly ran his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it downwards slightly before pushing his finger in past your parted lips. You lightly flicked your tongue against his thumb, causing him to chuckle once again. 

He clicked his tongue, making a ‘tsk’ sound as he shook his head in mock disapproval. 

“And you were begging for us to stop...” Toby laughed, retracting his finger from your mouth with a slick pop. You didn’t reply to him, instead sucking in a sharp breath as Hoodie’s cock slammed against a particularly pleasurable spot inside of you. 

Toby undid his jeans, pulling them down, proceeding to do the same with his underwear, releasing his hard-on from his pants. He once again gripped your chin, your lips already parting for him as he slid inside of your mouth. His member was larger than Masky’s—that or he was more forceful, you couldn’t tell—and instantly hit the back of your throat, but he didn’t stop there. Instead, he continued to force your head down, hand pressing against the back of your head until you felt his cock fill your throat, instantly triggering your gag reflex. You gagged and choked around his cock, eyes once again watering as you found yourself unable to breathe, only able to glance at him helplessly as he began fucking your throat, bucking his hips into your mouth and all the way down your throat. 

Meanwhile, Hoodie’s rhythmic thrusts were growing faster, pounding into you harder than before as tension built up within you. With one cock down your throat and the other stuffing your cunt, you were caught in the juxtaposition between discomfort and ecstasy, both sensations overwhelming your mind and flooding your senses, the last of any rational thoughts extinguished; snuffed out like a flame. 

“My, my,” Slenderman’s booming voice echoed through your skull. “If I had known sooner that you would be this easy to break...” 

You felt one of the tentacles wrapped around your body loosen its grip, not leaving you with enough time to wonder why. Instead you felt the foreign appendage flick at your swollen clit, your eyes instantly widening at the unexpected action. 

Another deep sigh, though the sound was clearly inhuman. 

“You’re just a slut after all, aren’t you, darling?” 

Never in your life would you have wanted to admit it, but you couldn’t help the way his words tightened the knot in your stomach, the tension building up to a peak as your walls spasmed and contracted. The feeling of your insides squeezing around Hoodie’s cock must’ve tipped him off the edge because you could hear him groaning as he, too, came, emptying himself inside of you. 

He pulled out, his hold on your hips slackening, your lower body proceeding to slump down, though Toby didn’t stop pumping in and out of your mouth. If anything, his movements grew rougher, your throat getting fucked raw, the tiny inhales of oxygen you were able to take through your nose not enough to supply your lungs. Your eyes welled up with tears from the slight pain that you now couldn’t ignore, your throat being mercilessly scraped raw and jaw cramping up. 

You blinked, a few drops falling down your face in glistening streams. When Toby finally jerked his hips up with one last hard thrust, you were thankful that you’d be able to breathe soon, feeling his cock twitch, lodged in your windpipe as his semen spilled down your esophagus. 

He kept you there, holding your head down until he had finished pouring out every last drop of his cum, giving you no choice but to swallow it all, your head almost dizzy from the lack of oxygen. At last, he yanked you off his member, leaving you spluttering and gasping for much needed air before you dropped your head, face sinking into the soft sheets that Slenderman was sitting on. 

You were still breathing heavily, sucking in large inhales at a rapid pace, when you heard someone speak. 

“Nice to meet you, dollface. The name’s Jeff.” Upon seeing him up close, you instantly froze up, a small gasp leaving your lips. You didn’t even realize when this man had appeared and Toby left, but here he was, standing before you, eyes caked in charcoal, skin a pale, leathery white, and an artificial, carved smile wide open in his cheeks. 

You whimpered, trying to get up and squirm away from Jeff, who laughed, seemingly finding your reaction entertaining. 

“Aw, babe, no need to be scared of me,” he cackled. “I’m sure we’ll have lots of fun together. Isn’t that right, boss?” 

Slenderman chuckled, the noise a deep vibration rumbling through your skull. 

“With how much of a slut she has turned out to be, I’m sure she’ll love it. Wouldn’t you agree, my dear?”

The question was directed at you, causing your face to heat up, flushing with shame. It wasn’t so much humiliating because he called you that, but more so because it was true, merely the words themselves able to send warmth pooling between your thighs. 

“I’m— I’m not a slut,” you pathetically tried to defend yourself, though you didn’t even believe your own words. 

“Is that so?” Slenderman questioned, the dark amusement visible in his voice. You felt one of his mysterious appendages pry itself between your thighs, the tip swirling around your clit, teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves. 

“A-Ah!” you gasped, still sensitive from your orgasm. “Stop—”

“Stop?” he laughed mischievously. His tendril gave languid, broad strokes over your clit, the smooth, silicone-like feel of the tentacle lighting up your nerves, setting your skin ablaze with heat. You couldn’t help but purr in delight, bucking your hips against the foreign sensation, your pride now rendered non-existent. “Is that really what you want, love?”

You let out a sigh of pleasure, shaking your head ‘no’ and mumbling something along the lines for him to keep going, at the same time cursing yourself for being so shameless. 

“Remind me to never get on your bad side,” another man stated. He was blonde, dressed in green—reminiscent of Link from Legend of Zelda—and relatively slender, though what really stood out was the crimson irises he possessed, complete with ebony scleras. “Turning your ‘love’ into a mindbroken fucktoy, even I wouldn’t be so heartless.”

“It’s a fitting and effective punishment,” Slenderman explained, his voice nonchalant though you didn’t fail to catch the hint of perverse enjoyment evident in his tone. 

The blonde shrugged, not commenting further on the topic, instead turning to Jeff and asking him a question. 

“You cool with a blowjob?” he grinned. 

“From you or her?” Jeff replied, causing the blonde man to roll his scarlet eyes. 

“Who do you think?” the blonde shot him what appeared to be a playful glare, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Yeah, I’m happy with fucking that pretty face of hers,” Jeff answered, the maniacal smile ever so present on his face. 

“Bet.” The man dressed in green then turned to Slenderman. “Boss, am I good to fuck her on the bed or you want her to stay on your lap?” 

“As I said, Ben, you’re free to do with her whatever you want.” As he finished his sentence, he loosened his grip, the tendrils uncoiling from your limbs and letting your body fall free. 

Ben then turned to you. 

“You heard him,” he stated. “Get on the bed.” 

You pushed yourself up onto your elbows with shaky arms, inelegantly swinging your legs over Slenderman’s lap, your feet touching the wooden floor. As soon as you stood up, you could feel warm fluid dripping down your thigh, some of it landing on the ground with a small splat. You tried to pretend it didn’t happen, instead crawling onto the bed and sitting down on it, pulling your legs into your chest, holding them with your arms. Your eyes were looking down at your own knees, too shy to meet the gaze of the two men that were about to be having sex with you. 

“Good girl,” Ben cooed at you, seconds before he climbed onto the bed, arms pushing your torso down, your back falling flat against the thankfully soft, plush mattress, head sinking into the material. 

“Hm,” he seemed to be thinking. “Actually, scoot up.” You were about to follow his instructions when he picked your body up with surprising ease considering his lean frame, and brought you over to the one side of the bed, setting you down. His hand was on your chest, pushing it down onto the mattress though this time your head didn’t meet anything solid, instead dangling a bit off the edge. 

“Not bad,” Jeff chuckled, walking over to stand next to you. You peered up at him, heartbeat once again starting to race as he began undoing his black dress pants, pulling them down alongside his underwear. 

His cock was half-erect, practically hovering mere centimetres over your face, and you realized then how they planned to do this. 

“Alright, doll, open that pretty mouth of yours for me,” he said, leering at you from above. 

You parted your lips, and he wasted no time putting his member in your mouth, the organ growing firmer and firmer as you took it in, trying to wrap your lips around it, moving your tongue alongside the shaft. 

“That’s perfect,” Jeff groaned. “You’re such a good whore.” 

You were doing your best to suck Jeff’s cock that was now fully erect and filling your mouth, when Ben’s hands reached towards your chest, giving your breasts a tentative squeeze. His movements soon grew rougher, fingers groping and playing with the mounds of flesh on your chest, soon bringing his mouth down, taking one of your nipples into his mouth.

Your eyes widened, though you couldn’t make any noise, with Jeff languidly pumping in and out of your mouth, your tongue swirling around the tip, the taste of pre-cum mixing with your saliva. 

Ben continued toying with your nipples, alternating between sucking on them, twirling his tongue against the hardened bud, and even nipping at them, the sensation causing goosebumps to break out over your skin, your hair follicles standing on end as you shuddered from his touch. 

You felt his other hand snake down towards your waist, grabbing at your hips before taking hold of your thigh, squishing the tender inner area. He let go of your nipple with a wet popping sound, your eyes instantly turning towards the wall to your side, feeling your face heat up once again. 

He brought his head down, taking the soft part of your thigh into his mouth, sucking on the flesh, his teeth gently grazing the surface of your skin, the action sure to leave marks as soon as he let go, though he repeated the process multiple times after, getting closer and closer to your cunt. 

He licked at your clit, the feeling sending sparks of pleasure flying, before he took the sensitive nub between his lips, and you could feel the wet, warm suction that you couldn’t help but melt into. 

“Use more tongue,” Jeff demanded, his rough voice pulling you out of your euphoria for a split second. You tried to focus on doing as he said, however, Ben’s mouth lapping at your clit, and his fingers that were beginning to fuck into you were too distracting. 

You could feel him curve his fingers to skillfully rub at your g-spot, causing you to buck your hips up at him, wanting more. 

“God,” you could just hear the smirk in his voice as he pulled his fingers out, leaving you unbearably empty. “You really are a slut. You want it that badly?” 

You couldn’t respond, mouth still busy pleasuring Jeff, but Slenderman took it upon himself to reply in your place. 

“It appears that she does.” The supernatural creature reached one of his pale, enormous hands towards your cunt, feeling your entrance, slick and slippery with your own juices. “I doubt all of this is just cum.”

When he retracted his hand, you felt the weight of the bed shift slightly, as Ben got himself into position to fuck you, picking your hips up and aligning his cock with your entrance. 

He plunged himself in, the feeling of his shaft filling up your needy insides was nothing short of heavenly, and he didn’t bother wasting any time—it wasn’t like you needed to adjust—as he began thrusting in and out of you at a rapid but steady pace. 

As he was fucking you, he lifted your legs up and over his shoulders, allowing himself to be able to go deeper, the tip of his cock brushing up against your cervix. 

You found yourself getting lost in the pleasure once more, simply letting go of any rational thought and permitting yourself to enjoy getting fucked like a slut. 

Jeff was simultaneously breathing heavily as he rutted into your mouth, and you could anticipate it when he began to near, but to your surprise, he pulled out of your mouth. 

Instead, you watched as he stroked his cock, hands gripping the length and jerking himself off for the few seconds before he came, moaning, his cum spurting out from the head of his cock and splattering over your face. Some of the translucent fluid splashed on your half-lidded eyes, sticking to your eyelashes, while some landed in your still open mouth, the rest staining both your skin and hair. 

“That was lovely,” Jeff grinned—as always. “Thanks for the service, doll.” 

You only nodded, gasping for air and inhaling sharp breaths as you greedily sucked in a proper amount of oxygen. 

That didn’t stop you from letting out moans in between inhales, Ben drilling into you and making work of your insides; wet, vulgar slapping noises filling the room. 

You didn’t expect it when he let go of your legs—though they remained hoisted over his shoulders—and reached out towards you, wrapping his hands around your neck. 

Ben applied pressure to the sides of your neck as he continued thrusting into you, picking up the pace as you instinctively reached for his wrists, grabbing onto them although you knew you had no chance of prying them off had you wanted to do so. Somehow, the thought of that further spurred you on, amplifying your arousal as you started feeling lightheaded, blood no longer flowing to your head as it should be. 

To your surprise, it was under those circumstances that you felt fire in your abdomen, each slap of his hips against yours making you inadvertently grind up against him as pressure built up inside you, his quick yet steady movements bringing you to the edge. 

He still hadn’t let go of your neck when your gut tightened, shockwaves gripping your body as you reached your crescendo. For a second you were floating in space, the room blurring from the cut off blood supply, spinning and hazing over with white light as your gut tightened, back arching and toes curling, your cunt clenching at his cock. 

You only noticed that his hold around your throat was gone when the room went back to normal, the colours returning and shapes forming once more as your vision cleared up. As your sight sharpened, you could see Ben moving away from you, a tired laugh leaving his lips as he sat down on the bed. You realized that he, too, had came at some point, the evidence being the semen that you could feel seeping out from your cunt, dirtying the bed, though that didn’t matter to you. 

“She’s practically gone,” you heard Ben comment. “You sure she can keep going?”

“She will have to,” Slenderman replied. “Our last guest has been waiting patiently, after all. She doesn’t have a choice.”

“You really are cruel,” Ben’s tone was lighthearted, though it didn’t feel like he was completely joking. You paid it no mind, however, but rather focused on Slenderman’s words. 

One last guest, you thought. You wondered who it would be, and what they were like as you looked up at the ceiling with a vacant gaze. 

You didn’t have to wonder for long, because the final guest that Slenderman spoke of was already walking towards you, his footsteps echoing in the chamber you were in, stopping beside you. What was formerly a blank ceiling in your sight was now replaced with a tall, very tall man, donning a doctor’s coat and navy blue mask, a viscous, tar-like liquid trickling from the eye sockets. He hovered there for a few seconds, seemingly inspecting you—though you couldn’t tell—before speaking.

“Get up.” The sound of his voice was enough to startle you out of your daze. It was nothing like you’d ever heard before, the only thing coming close enough would have been Slenderman’s voice, which was deep, resonant, and laced with static. The blue masked man’s voice on the other hand, was gravelly and smooth, but with an unmistakable inhuman edge to it, almost like a demonic rasp. 

You didn’t move, instead laid there stunned, though it was dumb of you to do so. How could you not expect other creatures, after knowing Slenderman himself? You had made the mistake of letting yourself get too accustomed to the previous five men, that were all seemingly mortal. 

“Get up, darling,” the blue masked man repeated himself. You could already hear the hunger in his voice, something of a completely different essence than the lust the previous men had emanated. 

You rolled over, pushing yourself up with quivering arms, stepping off the bed with equally shaky legs. 

When you first thought of this man as tall, you had expected him to be two metres or so, but seeing him, you’d guess that he was at least thirty centimetres above your naïve, foolish expectations. 

Standing next to him, your head was barely at his chest. The sensation of someone towering over you in the way he did was something you had only experienced with the eldritch entity that kidnapped you, though Slenderman was somehow even taller than that. 

Explains why the ceilings are so high in this mansion, you thought to yourself. 

The blue masked man peered down at you, with a curiosity that made you think of the way scientists would look at guinea pigs. You could feel a chill run down your spine, fear crawling alongside every ridge and bone, your fingers trembling as you tried to maintain your composure. However, you weren’t sure what it was that you were trying to contain anymore, the instinctual fear that you felt, or the carnal, primal desire that was threatening to overtake you once more. 

The blue masked man lifted a hand, and it was only then that you realized his skin was grey. You blinked, wondering if your vision was just hazy still but to your thrill horror, you weren’t mistaken. 

It wasn’t that he was pale, or perhaps sick. No, he was unmistakably grey, with darker veins running through the back of his hand, and sharp, onyx nails. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to move or run away when he brushed your hair behind your ear, an almost innocent, even lovely gesture had you not been in the situation you were in. 

His fingers trailed down to your neck, the sharpness of his nails dangerously teasing at your skin, sending continuous shudders in your body the entire way. He stopped at your shoulder, gripping it as he used his other hand to push his mask up, revealing the same grey skin and lips. 

But what really surprised you was when he opened his mouth, revealing a set of razor sharp teeth, which opened to showcase something even more horrific—three forked, twisting black tongues. 

With wide eyes, you reflexively stumbled backwards, though his hand on your shoulder stopped you before you made it even two full steps. 

He leaned his head down, all three tongues touching your body. One at your jaw, one at your jugular, and the last at your collarbone, all flicking against the surface of your skin at the same time. The sensation was one of electricity, lightning bolts and sparks, your body reacting to his touch in a way you’d never experienced before, causing you to make a sound akin to both a whimper and gasp. 

The man chuckled, a dark, rumbly, yet oddly salacious sound. 

“You’ll be delicious,” he grinned, flashing his shark like teeth. 

“Jack, you can use her however you please,” Slenderman cut in. “But do refrain from eating her, please.”

Eating? Surely he didn’t mean what you thought he meant—were you really about to get fucked by a flesh-eating demon? 

That thought didn’t turn you off as much as it should have. If anything, you felt the ache between your thighs begin to throb once more, and you involuntarily clenched them, pressing them together. 

“I’ll do my best not to,” Jack responded, the grin not leaving his face for a single second, not until he put his mask back down, at least. You nervously nibbled on your bottom lip, anxiously yet eagerly waiting for his move. 

Jack didn’t start right away; he appeared to be studying you, likely thinking of what exactly he should do with you—how exactly he should fuck you. But you’d be lying to yourself that the anticipation wasn’t getting the best of you, the sexual tension in the air growing thicker and heavier by the second. 

It was when you felt like you couldn’t wait any longer, somehow feeling impatient, almost, that he finally did something, though it wasn’t what you expected. 

Jack sat down on the edge of the bed, lazily leaning back a bit before addressing you. 

“Come here,” he beckoned you with his fingers.  

As if you were hypnotized, you found yourself happily climbing over his legs and sitting on his lap, your ass pressed against his crotch and hands on his shoulders. 

“You seem pretty worn out,” Jack casually stated, as if it was a simple observation, like the sky being blue or the grass being green. “You think you can handle me, sweetheart?”

You gazed into his eyes, twin abysses in Neptune’s mask, almost deliriously as you nodded. 

Jack only hummed, both hands going to his ears to remove the midnight blue mask from his face. 

“Good,” he said, all sharp teeth and smiles as he took the mask off, laying it aside on the bed, his features now revealed. 

You weren’t sure what you had expected, but he was oddly attractive, with elegant bone structure and fluttering, dark eyelashes, though they covered something far more sinister—a set of hollowed out eye sockets. 

You couldn’t help but let your jaw fall, mouth agape at the sight. You weren’t too sure how you were still finding things to be astonished over, though the mansion so far had been a continuous chain of surprises. 

Jack put his hands on your hips, grasping at your asscheeks, his nails scratching the surface of your skin, causing a small squeak to leave your lips. A sly smirk formed on his ashen face, seconds before he buried his face into the crook of your neck. 

Ragged breaths left your lips as he took your skin into his mouth, his fangs scraping against your throat before letting it go, the slight sting making you let out a sharp hiss, though it was quickly overshadowed by the intoxicating warmth of his tongues dancing along the tiny incisions he left. 

The way he sucked on your neck would be similar to the way Ben did with your thighs, if it weren’t for the starvation that he devoured you with, an abundance of scratches littering half of your upper body, scattered from just below your jawbone all the way to your shoulder, some even dipping down to your collarbone. 

You didn’t need to see it to know the minuscule drops of blood beading at the faint incision lines, quickly lapped up by one of his many tongues, Jack almost purring, a contented noise leaving his lips as he tasted you. 

Amidst the concoction of pleasurable feelings—his mouth greedily consuming you, his fingers toying with the flesh of your ass—you could feel his crotch stiffen beneath your thighs, the feeling of his bulge rubbing up against you ever so tantalizing. 

You didn’t even realize your satisfied hums, nor the way you ground your hips against the hardness in his pants, your lust fully taking control of both your body and mind. It didn’t slip past Jack’s attention, though, because he then lifted his head back up and away from your faintly lacerated yet heavily bruised neck. 

You couldn’t help but think that you liked the hickeys he had left on you; there was something titillating about him marking you. 

As if he could read your thoughts, Jack spoke. 

“Look at you,” he drawled. “Getting so worked up already, and I’ve barely even touched you.” As he spoke, he let go of your behind, instead dipping his hand underneath to slide two fingers up your cunt, sticky and drenched with arousal. You moaned, feeling his fingers fill you. Despite his hand being much larger than the average male’s, his digits easily fit inside you with how wet you were. 

When he pulled his fingers out, you couldn’t help but whine at the lack of sensation, rubbing your cunt against his visibly hardened crotch, desperate for more friction. 

Jack only laughed as he brought his fingers up to your lips, where you could clearly see the fluids that coated his fingers, slick and glistening. 

“Come on,” he urged you, a twisted smile on his lips. You felt your face heat up for the—honestly, you lost count by now—time that day as you parted your lips, letting him put his fingers in the warm cavern of your mouth. You sucked on them, tasting your own juices, cleaning your mess off of his digits. 

When he retracted them from your mouth, he proceeded to pause once more, seeming analyzing you. You were both curious and ludicrously excited to see what he would want from you next. 

“On your knees, darling,” he instructed, and you obeyed without a second thought, swinging your legs over his lap and kneeling down on the floor below him, ignoring the dull ache of your knees against the solid floor. 

“Let me ask you again,” Jack repeated his earlier question as he started to undo his pants. “You really think you can handle me?”

You gulped, swallowing the saliva that had pooled in your mouth as you anticipated what was next, nodding nervously. 

“Good.” His grin was larger than ever as he pulled his pants down, tugging his boxers off a second later. 

Your eyes enlarged impossibly wide at the sight before you. 

His cock was a similar colour to the rest of him, albeit a bit darker, though that was the least surprising aspect of it. What truly shocked you, rather, was the sheer size of his erection, standing tall at a length comparable to the size of your own head. Dark, prominent veins ran through the organ, adding to its monstrous appearance. The tip had a glossy sheen to it, wet with what was likely pre-cum. 

You stared at the scene before you, your brain stuck on processing the fact that this monstrosity would be going inside of you, unsure how to react. 

Jack languidly picked up a strand of your hair, twirling it around his fingers for a second before letting it drop. 

“Go on,” he taunted. “Is something wrong?” You could tell he was amused by your reaction; he had clearly expected this to happen. You could only timidly shake your head. 

“No,” you mumbled. 

“Then what are we waiting for, dear?” Jack chuckled darkly. 

With shaking hands, you reached out for Jack’s member, placing one hand on his knee to steady yourself and the other wrapping around his shaft, giving it an experimental stroke before you brought your mouth to the head. Your tongue glided over the tip of his cock, the briny taste of pre-cum melting into your tastebuds. 

Jack let out a satisfied sigh, and you took it as a sign to keep going, wrapping your lips around the head of his member, bobbing your head up and down as your hand steadily pumped his cock in matching rhythm. 

Your jaw was already tired and aching from the previous ‘sessions’ you had with the other men, but the intimidating girth of his cock filled your entire mouth, making it even more uncomfortable and difficult. 

You glanced up at Jack, who was looking down at you with an expression of both intrigue and satisfaction as you continued stroking his length. It wasn’t long before you felt your jaw cramping up, muscles throbbing in discomfort, causing you to stop. You pulled your mouth off of his cock with a wet popping noise, instead choosing to lap at the head while your hands did the rest of the work. 

“So weak,” Jack scoffed. “And you thought you could handle me.”

You whimpered, pausing for a second to speak to him. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, though the way his words electrified your entire being far outweighed any part of your feeling bad. 

“Oh, don’t worry,” Jack brushed your apology off, instead offering his own solution. “You’ll just have to make up for it when I’m fucking you. After all, I’m sure that dripping wet cunt of yours will be able to handle me.”

You couldn’t help but gasp, his words sending a sharp pang of arousal straight to your gut. He took clear note of your reaction, a smug smile on his face as he spoke. 

“You really like when I talk to you like that, don’t you?” Jack asked. “You dumb little whore.”

“Y-Yes,” you squeaked; his words were nothing short of arousing for you. 

“Oh, I am going to fuck you stupid,” Jack declared. And honestly—you were more than looking forward to it. “Get back on my lap.”

You got back up to your feet, alleviating your weight from your knees, something that was a relief. 

You only realized what would happen as you were about to climb back over his lap, the sudden thought striking you then that you were expected to not just sit on his lap, but also sit on his cock. 

As turned on as you were, you still found the size of his cock to be daunting, though as your insides clenched around nothing, you came to the conclusion that you wanted to be filled by that enormous cock of his. 

You climbed over his thighs, hands gripping his shoulders to hold yourself up as you let him position you, his hand holding your waist still, the other positioning himself at your entrance before you lowered yourself onto his member. 

You felt the tip sink into you, with relative ease due to your wetness, though it wasn’t until the upper part of his shaft had gone in that you started really feeling his girth, your walls forced to stretch to accommodate his size. The sensation quickly went from pleasurable and fulfilling to painful, your cunt resisting as your walls expanded to their limit. You stopped there, taking a second to catch your breath, your eyes watering from the pain and legs trembling. 

“I apologize, sweetheart,” Jack said. “But we’re not done yet.”

With both hands on your waist, he forced your hips down to meet his, his cock stabbing through you, only stopping as it slammed against your cervix. You cried out loudly, thrashing against him as both the agony of his cock brutally colliding with your cervix as well as the sharp pains of your insides being strained by the width of his organ flooding your senses. 

No matter how much you struggled and wailed, Jack didn’t let go of your hips, holding your lower body still, his cock fully sheathed in your warmth. 

Thankfully, he didn’t start fucking you right away, allowing you some time to adjust to the violent penetration, the terrible throbbing gradually fading into a dull, though still painful ache. 

As the initial pain subsided, you stopped squirming as much. That was when Jack brought his hand down at your point of connection, his thumb rubbing slow circles around your clit, stimulating the nerves and instantly sending signals of pleasure to your brain. Despite the still-aching throbbing between your legs, you felt your arousal heighten once more. Perhaps the pain was amplifying the pleasure that you felt; you weren’t sure. 

All you knew was that you wanted more, your body moving on its own, hips bucking against Jack’s hand for more. 

When his hand left your clit to instead take hold of your hips again, you whined in dissatisfaction, but he merely chuckled, before gently giving you a bounce on his cock. 

The action elicited a small moan from you, a mixture of both pain and pleasure, which he took as a sign to keep going, moving your hips up and down as you clung onto his shoulders, mewling. 

As he continued to lift your hips, pounding away at your insides, your moans slowly filled with more and more delight. Your breaths were heavy while his remained inhumanly calm, though the one thing you shared in common was your animalistic desire for each other, his hips snapping against yours as he viciously fucked into you, ravaging your insides with each thrust. 

His cock rubbed against every last inch of your walls, not a singular spot missed, the tip making impact with your g-spot each time he plunged into you, while at the same time his cock had sank so deep into your guts that your pelvis was pressed up right against his, allowing blissful friction against your swollen clit. 

His thrusts were growing more violent, though he didn’t seem to tire in the slightest as he handled your body with ease, using you like a ragdoll. 

You were bouncing up and down on his cock so fast and so harshly that you could barely distinguish one thrust from the other, Jack pounding away at your cunt, your walls gripping him deliciously as you senselessly moaned. 

You were practically seeing stars, body burning up all over, the only sound being the lewd, slick slapping noises of your drenched lips against his skin. The tension building up inside you was too much, your arousal peaking off the charts as he used your dripping cunt, before your clit rubbed against him one too many times and you were shaking, body convulsing, hips spasming as you screamed out his name. 

He kept mercilessly fucking you, his cock hammering at your cervix though the pain barely affected you anymore, your muscles tightening around him, squeezing and squeezing before finally your body went limp. You felt a few more thrusts inside you, before he then undoubtedly also had his release, filling you with his seed as your walls loosened around him. 

You felt so faint, your mind barely conscious or aware of what was taking place as he lifted you off of his cock, semen instantly flowing out of your used cunt and spilling down your thighs as he placed you down on the bed. Your back was against the soft sheets, your eyes vacantly staring up at the ceiling, completely inanimate save for the occasional twitch of your hips. 

You didn’t pay attention to what was happening, didn’t even notice Jack leaving, didn’t even realize the hands that slipped underneath you, one holding your thighs and the other supporting your back, lifting you up into the air. 

You couldn’t even tell what was occurring around you, your breaths coming out ragged and uneven, eyes unfocused, body completely limp. 

You only regained some awareness back, when Slenderman spoke, his voice intruding into your skull and ringing in your ears. 

“Oh dear,” he murmured, his voice filled with false concern. “My little toy seems to have broken.”

He was referring to you. You, his little toy. That was right, you were Slenderman’s little fucktoy. Somehow, the thought of that brought a dazed smile to your face. 

“I suppose I’ll just have to make do with what I have,” he stated, the vibrations prickling at your mind. “Though...”

His words trailed off as two of his tentacles moved about, each taking hold of one of your arms. Two more appeared, curling themselves around your thighs, holding up your weight as his hands left your body. 

With the four tendrils lifting your weight, you found yourself suspended in midair, practically floating as he brought his hand to your leaking cunt, long, pale fingers parting your swollen lips and inserting themselves in you. 

“That cunt of yours is rather loose now, dear.”

You whimpered, the sting of his words only serving to send more heat pooling between your thighs, though you couldn’t do anything to alleviate the need building up inside you, with all your limbs bound and movement restricted. 

His thumb brushed against your swollen nub as his fingers curled up inside you, the action making you hiss, the touch being too much for your nerves, overly sensitive from having came so many times. The jolt of discomfort was enough to make you instinctively squirm, though you were still fairly delirious. 

“Feeling sensitive, darling?” he questioned, sadistic enjoyment evident in his voice. You mumbled an incoherent ‘yes,’ continuing to attempt to evade his touch, though you were firmly stuck in his place as he toyed with your clit. 

“That’s too bad,” Slenderman said, his tone one of fake sympathies. “You’ll just have to suffer a bit for me then, love.”

You barely noticed, too focused on the physical sensations of discomfort when he started unbuttoning his dress pants, pushing them down just enough to take out his cock, which he lazily stroked. You weren’t too sure how big it actually was, but it felt just right when he penetrated you, a fast, singular thrust met with little resistance. 

You moaned loudly, the head of his cock rubbing so divinely against your insides, though it quickly turned to strangled sobs as he started moving his hips, each thrust causing your overstimulated clit to smack against his skin. You were wriggling against him, partially shrieking from the feeling of too much as you tried to put some distance between the two of you, to no avail. 

The eldritch entity continued to ruthlessly pound away at your abused, worn out cunt, squelching sounds emitting from your loosened and sopping walls. 

Somewhere in between the vulgar noises of coitus, you heard a deep, almost disappointed sigh. 

“What a shame,” he scoffed. “Your cunt’s worthless. I’ll have to make it tighter.”

You were confused as to what he meant by that, though you were too distracted by how sensitive you were to put much thought into it. It wasn’t until another one of his tendrils reached out, the smooth, glossy black tip poking at your asshole that the realization sunk in. 

“Ah—” you gasped. “What— What are you doing—” 

Your words were cut off by the sudden intrusion, the tapered tip pushing inside your hole, pain shooting through you as you yelped. 

“Wait, don’t—” 

Slenderman ignored your protests, the appendage working its way deeper into your guts, the slowly thickening tip gradually yet agonizingly stretching out your asshole. 

Your back side hurt, combined with the continuous stimulation of your mistreated clit, the sensations were overwhelming you. 

“Stop, stop, it’s too much—” you cried out, once again thrashing your hips, any effort to get away proving fruitless. “Please, I can’t, I can’t—”

You choked out sobs, eyes brimming with fresh tears as the tall man relentlessly violated your insides. You didn’t stop wailing, desperately pleading for him to stop when he raised one last tentacle, and before you knew it, shoved it past your open lips, harshly ramming it down your throat. 

Your eyes bulged open as you choked on the appendage, which was completely stuffing your windpipe, effectively muffling any sounds you could’ve made. 

You tried to fight, twisting and turning your body, though you were far too tired and too worn out to even resist for long, eventually simply letting your body slacken, your head slowly growing lighter from the lack of oxygen. 

It felt as if you were on the verge of passing out—you likely were—when your vision started blurring, your consciousness threatening to slip away. You didn’t bother trying to hold on, merely surrendering yourself, giving up as your holes continued to be used, Slenderman’s dick thrusting in just before the tentacle pulled out, the appendage and his cock simultaneously rubbing against one another with your walls serving as a divider. 

Dark dots began spotting your vision, all your holes stuffed, your clit still being hammered away at, each sensation combining with another, to the point where you couldn’t tell them apart. All you knew was that you were being impaled, your body being used as a toy for this eldritch entity, the pain fading into a plain feeling of fullness. 

You closed your eyes, but though you felt like you weren’t actively doing so, you could feel your innards constrict, tightening and spasming as bliss overtook you. It was oddly euphoric, allowing the darkness to take you away, your body continuing to writhe as you orgasmed one final time. 

You could feel the monster still, save for his cock, twitching lovingly inside your cunt as he, too, reached his peak, releasing and filling your womb with cum. 

Something was removed from your throat, and you felt your body’s survival mechanisms kick in, your eyes suddenly snapping open, your lungs burning as you gasped and wheezed, trying to take in much needed air. 

When you finally recovered, your chest still desperately heaving with each breath, you noticed that you were back on the bed, the eldritch entity sitting next to your laying down form. 

Though he had no facial features, you could still feel him gaze down at you, his hand tenderly stroking your hair, mangled and matted with sweat. 

“My love,” he whispered, his voice the softest you had ever heard it. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

Feverish and faint, you no longer had the energy to meet where his eyes would be, so you simply closed them again, deliriously nodding your head to no one in particular. 

“Yes,” you answered. 

#creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #hoodie x reader #marble hornets #creepypasta x you #hoodie x you #creepypasta smut #creepypasta nsft #masky x you #masky x reader #creepypasta reader insert #jeffery woods #jeff the killer #jeff the killer x reader #jeff the killer x you #ticci toby #ticci toby x reader #ticci toby x you #eyeless jack #eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack x you #slenderman #slenderman x reader #slenderman x you #ben drowned #ben drowned x reader #ben drowned x you #slender mansion #eyeless jack smut #slenderman smut

[meegan420]

Goth Kids Hot Air Balloon Rides -South Paws 🐾 my hams

#3 posts away from 1000 posts #south park #hamsters #goth kids #Michael x Pete #henrietta biggle #firkle smith #south paws 🐾 #pete thelman #sp fanfiction #my stuff #hot air balloon #tnbc #nightmare before christmas

[nctstar]

Hiii I dont know if you still take requests but really like your blogs and I want to ask can you please do a jaehyun x female reader where the reader id pregnant and jae is needy but she isn't confident about her pregnancy body so he tell her it's okay and all you can change it as much as you like but like just keep the main idea pls thank youuuuu

thank you! here you are :)

be my forever only.

“My love…I’ll be right here when you wake up. I promise.”

pairing: jaehyun x fem!reader

other members: none

word count: 2.1k

genre: smut, fluff

warnings: sexual content so minors please dni!! descriptions of pregnancy and pregnancy body, reader is insecure about her appearance, kissing, pregnancy sex, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, clitoral stimulation, breast play, penetrative p in v sex, (pretty vanilla actually who would have thought for me lol), lots and lots of praise and use of petnames (baby, pretty girl, darling, love etc.), profanity, jaehyun is sort of a soft dom (but nothing too crazy)

disclaimer: this is a fanfiction purely from my (filthy) imagination. I don't know the nct members and don't claim that they act like this in real life. I also do not condone any of the activity by any of the characters in this fic. 

a/n: we all need a jaehyun like this i think

Nothing was going right today from the start.

Your hair was having a field day – dry as hay on the ends, greasy near your part line, making it near impossible for any style to look half-decent. Lips chapped and skin peeling, you swallowed a lump of acidotic nausea that threatened to spill past your lips for what felt like the dozenth time today. You must have gone to the bathroom to let trickles of urine leak out of you, never feeling quite relieved but at the same time, not being able to resist the urge each time. You felt swollen, like your body was bursting at the seams of your hot, tight skin.

And to make matters worse, today was the hottest day of the year.

“Jae,” you called out breathlessly, trying not to sound too exhausted as you lowered yourself down onto your bed with shaky arms. “Can you come here, please?”

The sound of your husband’s steps calmed you momentarily, a wave of contentedness that was swiftly replaced by anxiety as you watched his form materialise at the frame of your bedroom door.

There was nothing wrong with Jaehyun – in fact, he was perfect.

Too perfect.

“You alright?” His shirt hung open dangerously, revealing the tantalising lines of his toned stomach and the edges of his underwear, pants slipping off his slender hips. “Oh, wait, wait.” He rushed over to you, the smell of his cologne overtaking you, making your nausea spike tenfold. “Jae, that’s okay. That’s not why I called.” You willed the wave of nausea away before speaking again. “Is the AC on? It doesn’t seem like it is.”

“It is, love. It’s freezing,” His face was lined with worry, even as he tried to laugh it off. “You feeling sick again?”

You wanted to shake your head, say no, but your head moved on its own accord. As you tilted your head up and down, tears flooded your vision. “Sorry.” You tried to whisper, but it came out a whimper, and immediately you felt Jaehyun squeeze his arms around your body, soundless.

You felt the nausea rising again, and you shoved your arms against his, the cologne smell attacking you once again. “No, Jae, don’t. I’m gonna be sick again.” As soon as the words left you, you gagged, head flying down in response. You felt his weight lift off the bed and heard the sound of your bedside vomit bag crinkle even before he held it up towards your face. “It’s okay. Do you need to? Just go if you need to.” He rubbed your back rather harshly, but it felt so nice, like a thousand-year-old itch finally being tended to. You sobbed, one hand stubbornly wiping away every tear that dared rolled down your skin.

“Hey, hey. Are you hurt? Do you want me to call someone?” You furiously shook your head. “No? What do you need, baby? I can help you.”

Between gasps for air, you managed to get out. “I feel so nauseas, but nothing will come out. I feel heavy, like a lump of shit, or a water balloon. And I feel so ugly!” You cried harder, simultaneously because you felt ugly and because of how silly and superficial that sounded coming out of your mouth. Jaehyun’s rubs on your back transformed to gentler strokes, and he spoke softly. “Why would you feel ugly? You’re carrying our child, my love. You have never been more beautiful.”

You scoffed. “Really, Mr ‘Hottest Man in Korea?’” The headline you saw this morning still flashed before your eyes, making you feel ashamed that you were this perfect man’s wife. And then, even more ashamed at the fact that you could even think about yourself like that.

This had never been a problem for you. You were far from a model, or, at least, what the current beauty standards considered the pinnacle of feminine beauty and perfection. But it never really phased you, even as you stood next to your conventionally perfect husband, watching him stand next to other seemingly flawless human beings. You never cared about any of it. Yet, today, the dangerous concoction of your pregnancy hormones and the TikToks you saw this morning about wives saying their husbands found them less attractive after pregnancy, threatened to push you over the edge.

Jaehyun furrowed his brows, looking annoyed. “What are you talking about, _?” Seeing him annoyed snapped you out of your tearful mood, and you tried to stand, teter tottering under the weight of your belly. “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing.”

“No, tell me.” Pulling you down gently, Jaehyun slid his hand down your arm and let it rest on top of yours as you sat back down. The burning in your legs from the effort started to ebb away, and you sighed. “I know it’s stupid.”

“No, of course not.”

“No, but it is. Like, I mean, why should I care how sexy you think I am? That’s not even why we got together…I mean, of course I care, but, like, I think I’m decent, like maybe a five-“

Your lips were met with his, cutting you off, the smell of his hair now clouding you. You breathed into the kiss, but your body felt stiff, refusing to relax. Jaehyun pulled away, grazing the edges of his lips on your cheek. “I can’t believe you think so lowly of yourself, _. You’re gorgeous. You always have been.” He began to travel his face down to your neck, leaving soft kisses on your skin, making the hairs on your body stand on end. “Jaehyun,” you tried to whisper, but it came out like a loud moan, and you immediately blushed. He chuckled, wrapping his long fingers around your waist. “Do you want this, my love? Are you still feeling alright? Let me take care of you, then.”

Your body felt hot, butterflies erupting in your stomach from a sudden sense of feeling cared for, of being loved so deeply. It wasn’t necessarily that he wasn’t sweet like this always, but something about the idea of letting go of your anxieties and having your husband take the lead like this made you feel floaty with desire. “O-okay.” As soon as the breath left your lungs, Jaehyun stood to make his way in front of you, bending down on one knee. You giggled. “I do, Jae.”

He smiled, his eyes turning into half circles. “Are you losing your memory too, baby? Or is it just your marbles? Thinking you’re not sexy, you’re not beautiful. What nonsense.” He huffed, and you cringed physically, not used to being so lovey-dovey like this. You can’t say you were hating it, though.

Placing his hands on your knees, you reflexibly separated them, making him chuckle. “So eager for me. No, I want you to shuffle back on the bed, darling.” Muttering an oh, you begin to shuffle yourself back using your arms, feeling Jae push on your knees to help. “That’s it. Good girl.” Your stomach turned at his words and his voice, knowing how much you loved his soft praises as much as his mean dominance.  

Your knees fell apart naturally, the weight of your belly now pushing down onto the lower part of your spine, making you wince. You fought back a groan, but Jaehyun was already onto it, pillow in hand. “Let me pop this under your back, darling. Do you wanna lay like this? Is it comfortable?” Grunting, you both manoeuvred the pillow to fit snug under the curve of your lower back, throat dry with anticipation. “It’s okay, baby.” You let your head fall back, your shoulders and neck aching from looking at Jaehyun’s head from this angle. “That’s it. Lie back and relax, _.”

As soon as Jaehyun’s hot tongue nestled inside you, your legs recoiled naturally, stopping as your thighs hit the plush of your belly. “A-ah.” Jaehyun shushed you, the vibrations spreading through your core and deep inside you, making you moan. As he worked his tongue in circles, you tried to reach down you touch him, or yourself, fighting the urge to cum quickly, but also wanting to so bad. His long arms stretched out to pin your wandering hand into place. “Did I say to move, hmm?” He sped up, head bobbing up and down, the wetness of your juices now spreading to the inner skin of your thighs, making you cry out. “Fuck! Oh my god, Jae, don’t stop…” you babbled, falling apart at a rapid rate.

“I’m gonna cum!” Your head thrown back, you felt your legs shake, and Jaehyun pull away, making you audibly whine. “Shh, be patient, pretty girl. What do we say when we feel good, hmm?” Hair in his eyes, you watched him tower over you, one hand still between your legs. You were surprised at the way he was soft and gentle, but also keeping up with the domineering that always sent you into bliss. His fingers pushed lightly onto your clit, but it was enough to send electricity down your spine. “Mmm, Jae, so good, so good…” Your lips met his, tongue exploring the crevices of your mouth as you moaned. His other hand squeezed around your right boob, eliciting a shaky whimper from you. “Please, I’m…ngh, thank you, thank you…” He hummed in satisfaction, rubbing your clit faster as he kissed the space between your boobs, meeting your skin as you arched your upper back off the bed in pleasure. You cried as you came, squeezing your eyes shut hard until you could see stars. Jaehyun pressed a kiss to your forehead, your vision blurry as you opened your eyes. “Beautiful, my love. So perfect.” You began to cry again, letting him peck the thin skin of your face and neck, his hot breath caressing you with every kiss.

“M-more, please…” You tried to squeeze your legs together, for the smallest bit of relief, but the weight of your protruding belly stopped you. You whined in frustration. “Fuck, please, please, you’re so good…want your cock, please.”

“So polite, my pretty girl.” Jaehyun pressed a kiss on top of your belly, making you suddenly shyer than ever. “Who am I to deny my baby, hmm?” You nodded fervently, making him chuckle once again, sitting back on his heels to align his hard length against your leaking hole. As he pushed himself inside, the stretch felt overwhelming, all encompassing, and your toes curled, fingers clutching the sheets in vain. “O-oh, fuck, so sensitive…” Jaehyun halted his hips, high kneeling to watch your face closely. “Does it hurt, love?” You shook your head, but he still slowed down, one hand holding yours and letting his thumb stroke the skin lazily in an attempt to soothe you. “F-fuck, you’re sucking me in so well, honey. Wish you could see this perfect pussy right now.” You replied through a series of wanton moans, eyes rolling already at the feeling of being stuffed full, the pressure on your clit orgasmic. “I’m gonna cum again, oh, fuck.”

You and Jaehyun groaned in unison as you squirted all over his cock, egging him on to start thrusting deeper and faster. His cock sliding in and out of your gummy walls, your pussy screamed with sensitivity, but you felt too good to stop. “Nghhh, ah, please, please…” Tears streaming down your face, Jaehyun grabbed your hand and kissed the top messily, his hips still travelling at an unfaltering speed. “Perfect, so perfect. You wanna cum again, princess?” You babbled incoherently, but he kept going. “Say it. Say you’re beautiful, and you deserve to cum.”

“I, ah, hmm, wanna cum…” Your voice shook, and Jaehyun spread his legs wider, pulling both of your ankles up towards his shoulders. The new angle hit right on your g-spot, the sudden switch making you scream. “Oh, fuck!”

“Don’t cum yet. That wasn’t good enough.” Jaehyun thrusts were getting sloppier, messier, and you could tell he was close. Your face felt hot, the rush of blood in your ears almost deafening, all organised thoughts leaving you as you felt your body reach another climax. “Ah! Fuck, gonna cum! Deserve it, please…I’m b-beautiful, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Your whole body jerked involuntarily, your vision momentarily going black as you came hard and fast. You heard Jaehyun’s voice first, then his lips on your ear, one hand stroking your face and another your thigh. “Shhh, good girl, baby. Let me fill you up so good, baby.” Only then could you feel that he had finished inside you, his hot load viscous and threatening to spill out with the tiniest movement. “You okay?”

You needed a minute to regain your composure, but you used whatever strength you had left to nod, mumbling. “Was so good. Wanna sleep, please.”

“Okay, honey. You relax, I’ll clean you up.”

You latched onto him, bringing him closer to you, the smell of his body making you want to cry in relief. “I…love you, love you, Jaehyun. Please, s-stay.” He kissed you, muttering I love you’s back as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders.

“My love…I’ll be right here when you wake up. I promise.”

#kpop #nct #kpop fanfiction #nct fanfiction #nct scenarios #nct fanfic #kpop imagine #nct imagine #jaehyun #nct jaehyun #nct 127 #nct u #jaehyun smut #dom jaehyun #jaehyun fluff #reader x jaehyun #nct x reader #pregnancy smut #nct pregnancy

[itsmealaiah]

"party girl"

tara yummy x fem! reader

TW: wlw, use of alcohol, partying, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, drinking, profanity, head (reader rec), pussy grinding, fingering

Request: could you do a tara yummy x fem reader and their at like one of jake's partys.

Rating: mature themes, mdni, please mind the tags.

WC: 1.6k

*also ik tara is straight this is js straight up fanfiction*

"Y/n, hurry uppp!" tara whined, slathering on a layer of lipstick, somehow already dressed and ready to go, while you were still struggling with the dress, attempting to reach the zipper, failing each time. "What's taking you so long?" she called, seemingly growing annoyed at how long you were taking.

"The dress" you responded back, and soon you heard footsteps heading towards you. Tara arrived in your room seconds later, hands sliding over back, making you shiver as you zipped up the skimpy dress you had chosen, and left a light kiss on your neck.

"not now" you whined, even though you just wanted to stay in and cuddle instead of wasting a perfectly good night at a party getting drunk with jake and his friends.

You both made your way to the front door, staring at tara's dress, her curves on display in the best way as you smiled, wrapping your fingers around hers, holding your hand as you walked to the uber you both had paid for beforehand, knowing you were both going to end up blackout drunk and did not trust yourselves enough to drive.

Soon, you arrived at the party, which was in full swing, the sun beginning to set as you stepped through the door, the scents of sweat, cigarettes, alcohol, and even a hint of drugs present in the air, making you wrinkle your nose, wafting through the house as tara went to go get drinks for you both.

You found jake, who was playing beer pong with colby, sam, and johnnie, and you stood by them until tara returned, too nervous to leave the people you actually knew. You were playing with your hands until tara made her way back to you, handing you a red solo cup and pulling on your hand, leading you through the house, most likely to an open couch where you both could relax.

You took a sip of your drink, immediately feeling slight buzzed as tara found an empty couch, pulling you onto her lap. You put your drink on the floor, and she did the same, grasping your hips as she put her red lips onto yours as you gasped, her tongue seeking entrance into your mouth and you tugged at her hair, moaning into the kiss, feeling her lips leave yours and begin to mark your neck, pushing your hair aside.

"f-fuck!" you whimpered, feeling her bite at one of your sensitive spots, sliding her tongue over your skin to soothe the ache. She nipped at your neck some more, leaving dark hickies on your skin, smiling as you were in a daze, already having that fucked out look on your face as she smirked.

She guided you up the stairs of the house, leaving the drinks behind, your hands tightly wound together. You found an unoccupied room, and stepped in, locking the door behind you as she pushed you onto the bed, her eyes speaking volumes as what she wanted to do to you.

Her hand made it's way between your legs, rubbing your clit through your drenched panties, making you gasp and buck your hips up. She pulled her hand away, and you groaned in frustration, angered at the loss of stimulation already.

Before you could even react, she lowered herself to her knees in front of you, her face mere inches from your sex. You gasped as her hot breath caressed your sensitive skin, and then she was there, lips parted, tongue dancing over your clothed clit. Your hands tangled in her hair, urging her on as she began to feast on you, devouring your cunt like it was a meal.

Tara's fingers found their way between your legs, sliding your panties to the side, and then slipping inside, searching for your entrance. She teased you, circling your entrance, dipping inside just enough to make you ache. You moaned, arching your back against her hand, desperate for more.

Her tongue continued its relentless assault on your clit, while her fingers found their rhythm, thrusting in and out of you, fucking you through your underwear. You felt the familiar tightness coiling low in your belly, and you knew you were close. You cried out her name, your body shuddering with the force of the orgasm as it crashed over you.

"Fuck," she growled, pulling away to look up at you. Her eyes were dark and intense, and her lips were swollen from your kisses. "I can't wait to feel you cum on my tongue." She gave you a wicked grin before lowering her head again, slipping your drenched panties out of the way, and pressing her tongue against your entrance.

Tara's tongue probed you, seeking entry, and when she finally found it, she began to thrust, her movements mirroring those of her hand. You cried out, your body arching off the wall as she took you deeper, faster. Your hips bucked against her face, begging for more as she brought you ever closer to the brink.

The taste of yourself on her tongue only served to heighten the experience, and as you felt your orgasm building once again, you knew there was no holding back this time. You wrapped your legs around her head, your nails digging into her shoulders as you surrendered to the sensations washing over you. With a hoarse cry, your body tensed and spasmed, your orgasm crashing through you in waves.

Tara continued to lap at you even as you came down from your high, her tongue swirling around your entrance and circling your clit. You felt the familiar ache beginning to build again, and you couldn't help but moan her name. She looked up at you, her eyes dark with lust, and slowly slid her hands up your thighs, pushing your dress higher.

With her tongue still buried inside you, she reached out and grasped your aching breast, rolling your nipple between her fingers. You arched your back off the mattress, crying out her name as she began to suck on your breast, her tongue alternating between your clit and your nipple.

Her fingers found their way back between your legs, slipping inside you again, wet with your juices. She thrust them in and out, matching the rhythm of her tongue as she continued to pleasure you. You felt your body responding to her touch, your hips beginning to move in time with her. Your breath came in ragged gasps as you lost yourself in the sensations coursing through you.

"That's it," she murmured, her voice low and husky. "Let go, baby." She pressed her lips to your inner thigh, sucking gently as she continued to finger-fuck you. Your orgasm built again, closer and closer, until you were certain you could feel it coiling in your core. With a final thrust, Tara pushed you over the edge, her tongue flicking against your clit as your body tensed and shuddered with release.

You cried out her name, your hands fisting in her hair as the wave of pleasure washed over you. Tara continued to lap at you, her tongue dancing over your sensitive skin, long after your orgasm had faded away. She looked up at you then, her eyes dark and intense, and you could see the desire burning in her.

"Come here," she whispered, reaching out to pull you closer. You obeyed without hesitation, falling into her embrace. She rolled onto her back, taking you with her, and you found yourself straddling her hips. Her hands moved up to cup your breasts, her thumbs circling your nipples as she looked down at you. "Fuck," she breathed. "You're so hot."

With one swift movement, she rolled onto her side, pinning you beneath her. Her leg slid between yours, pressing against your aching center. "Do you want me to make you feel better?" she asked, her voice low and husky. Without waiting for an answer, she began to rock her hips against you, grinding her clothed sex against your slick folds.

The friction was exquisite, sending sparks of desire through you. You moaned her name, arching your back as you continued to ride her thigh. Her breasts pressed against your chest, and you could feel her nipples hardening against your skin. Tara's hands moved up to grip your shoulders, holding you close as she lost herself in the sensation.

Her thigh was slick with your arousal, and you could feel the heat emanating from her core. The rhythm you found together was perfect, and you could feel the tension building in your lower abdomen. "Tara," you gasped, "I'm c-close!."

She groaned in response, her hips thrusting up to meet yours as she picked up the pace. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her face flushed with arousal. You could feel your control slipping away as the pleasure built inside you, threatening to break free.

With one final gasp, you cried out her name, your body tensing and convulsing as your orgasm washed over you in a wave of bliss. Tara's hips bucked beneath you, her grip on your shoulders tightening as she followed you over the edge. Her cries mingled with yours, filling the air as their breaths came in ragged gasps.

The tension between you eased, leaving you both spent and sated. Tara rolled onto her back, pulling you into her embrace. She ran her fingers through your hair, her touch gentle and soothing. "That was hot," she giggled, her breath hot against your neck.

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