The Moon x Bangchan or The Empress x Bangchan ♡
III Empress: expressing themselves, fertility, sensual, creampie, breeding kink, body worshipping, pillow princess
"Say it again?" Chris cocked one eyebrow at your figure, standing in front of him. He was sitting on the couch, legs relaxed to take as much space as he needed to. The view made you dizzy.
You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, tormenting the hem of the pajama top.
"I'm horny," you repeated, louder than the first time but still too quiet for his liking.
He chuckled. "Take them off."
His heavy lidded eyes darted down your body, caressing the curved hidded by the fabric he wanted off. You swallowed dryly and obeyed, loving the way his pupils engulfed his irises at the view.
"You're very cute today, you know that?" he murmured. "Why are you so cute?"
The breath came out too shaky for your liking as you spoke. "I'm- ovulating."
Chris patted his thighs. You took a few steps forward.
"Are you always this adorable when you ovulate?"
His lazy dimples made you bite your lower lip.
"And malleable. You're listening to me so well," he added, palming your sides to pull you down on his lap.
You inhaled through the teeth at the feeling of his warm hands. And when he made you turn around to sit with your back against his chest you closed your eyes, melting in the warmth.
"What do you want?" his voice was a deep raspy whisper against your ear.
"Your hands," you managed to breathe out, cutting the air flow short as you felt his hot wet mouth on your shoulder, pressing slow deep kisses all up towards your ear then back again.
He hummed, pleased at your choice.
"You want me so badly, it makes me want to keep you waiting some more."
You shivered, the goosebumps forming all over your skin at the way his palms caressed your stomach and went for your thighs. You opened your legs even more and he chuckled again against your nape.
"Please," you put your own hands on top of his.
"Mmm," he dragged them up, letting one loosely hover over your cunt while the other's fingers sunk into your breast. "You're making such a mess," he added.
You hissed as he felt how wet you were, digging your nails into his forearm.
"You're such a dirty little girl, begging me to make you cum," his warm voice was delicate just like his touch, gently rubbing at your clit. His other hand kept kneading your breast, making you jolt in his arms as he'd flick your hard nipples.
You pushed your hips into his palm even more and he let you desperately rut them as you liked before pulling you against himself.
"What else do you want?" he asked, coating his fingers.
You whined, feeling his hard cock rubbing against your ass. "Inside," you panted, "I want you to cum inside of me."
Chris swore under his breath and slid two fingers in, making you throw your head back on his shoulder.
________
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inevitably.
osamu x reader
words are a little difficult for this set of roommates.
warnings: alcohol mention
“where … are you going?”
the streetlight flickers through the window. you should close the blinds.
“out,” you say quietly, tugging at your skirt.
osamu pauses. “where?”
you shrug, rolling your lips under your teeth. “downtown,” you mumble, then blurt - “i’m meeting kiyoko and yachi.”
the tv hums. when harry met sally.
he nods, averting his eyes to the book in his lap. his rimmed glasses slide down the bridge of his nose. “you need me to drive you?”
your stomach dips when he looks away.
“no.” goosebumps line your skin. you shift on the balls of your feet. “i called an uber.”
“okay,” he says and you watch his chest fall. “will you text me when you get there? and call me if you need a ride back?”
why?
“i’ll be fine,” you say too quickly, too dismissively. “don’t stay up or anything.” you swallow hard, words thick and heavy from your tongue.
when he says okay, a sliver of your hopes he doesn’t mean it.
you turn to grab your keys off the counter and slide them into your bag. “night,” you call over your shoulder.
when the door shuts, you lean against it for a moment - you tell yourself it’s because you’re still waiting for your uber, but you press a heavy hand against your chest and hope your heart rate comes back down.
“i thought you weren’t coming tonight,” yachi yells over the music.
“things are weird at home,” you yell back. you don’t need to clarify that ‘things’ mean you and osamu have been weird at home.
kiyoko bumps her shoulder with yours. “wait, catch me up.”
“i don’t know,” you sigh defeatedly, head hanging. it’s true - you really didn’t know what was going on. maybe you need another drink before you can pull up the play-by-play in your mind.
yachi beats you to it. “they finally kissed.”
her voice carries louder than you had expected and you know it’s just because the music is too loud but it sure feels like she’s airing your dirty laundry to everyone and their mom at this club.
kiyoko’s mouth hangs. “wait, why didn’t you tell me?” she yells back.
“we kissed the other night when he came home from his trip but we haven’t talked about it since.”
your face burns at the admission, partly because you feel embarrassed to say it out loud and partly because you can still feel his lips, gentle and needy against your own.
uninvited stills flash in your mind. his low-lidded gray eyes and flushed cheeks. your palms pressing against him, his arm burning against your waist.
you exhale for a long, long moment.
in your entire year and a half of living with him, you’d never seen him like that before, let alone even guess that this would happen.
“i’ve been waiting,” yachi says giddily, “i’ve always been rooting for him.”
you down the rest of your glass. had you been playing the long con? had he been playing the long con?
“so how was it?” kiyoko leans in, only a touch quieter than yachi a few minutes ago.
really good.
you’d do it again in a heartbeat.
“good,” you mumble. “i need another drink.”
yachi holds onto your arm when you move to get up. “not so fast, you have some more explaining to do. was it everything you thought it was going to be?”
“that’s quite a dramatic question,” you say, suppressing a smile. “that’s a huge expectation for a man.”
“but it’s osamu. it’s your roommate.”
“that doesn’t make him any less of a man.”
“that’s the point!” yachi says.
“this is getting really confusing.” you bury your head in your hands, your muscles starting to loosen.
kiyoko slides a glass towards you and you reach for it like you’ve been parched for days.
“so what now?” kiyoko asks gently, watching as you slump back against the booth. “you said things were weird at home.”
they’re weird because this is new territory. they’re weird because maybe you’d been hoping for this, waiting for this, but now that it’s here, you don’t know what to do or how to act or what he’s thinking.
“i’m not sure,” you say tiredly. “i feel like he’s avoiding … it.”
you think about him offering to drive you and pick you up.
your mind feels fuzzy when you hear yourself say, “shots, ladies?”
you’re not much better at saying what’s on your mind, when you really think about it.
you don’t come back home until you know you’ve sobered up.
the lamp in the corner of the living room is still on.
osamu hasn’t moved very much, but instead of sitting upright, he’s stretched his legs out on the couch, head resting against the armrest. his book is shut, sitting on the coffee table next to the tv remote.
he’s almost asleep.
his drooping eyes lift when he hears you double lock the door.
“hi,” you whisper.
“hi,” he mumbles sleepily. “you have fun?”
“yeah. why are you still up?”
“i wasn’t sleepy.”
“sure you weren’t.”
“i really wasn’t.”
“you were literally asleep when i walked in.”
“i was literally awake.”
you hum, setting your keys bag on the countertop. his eyes watch as you walk towards him.
your skin burns. you want to look away - you want him to look away - when you say, “do you wanna talk?”
“what an ominous opening statement.” his voice is just a notch louder.
when he looks up to you expectantly, you squat in front of him, shins pressing against the bottom of the couch. he props himself up on his elbow, meeting you eye to eye.
you look at him for a moment and watch the tips of his ears fade into pink. you fold your arms over your knees and nestle your chin in the crook.
“hi again,” you finally whisper.
his head tilts. you’re inches away, close enough to feel his warmth through the blankets.
“hi again,” he whispers back, the corners of his lips lifting.
you suck on your lower lip nervously. “i think,” you start slowly, “i hope the other night wasn’t a mistake.”
it comes out as a question more than a statement.
his pupils grow a fraction of an inch. “did you think it was?”
“no,” you say too quickly. “i was hoping you didn’t think so. i don’t know. i’ve just been thinking. i just, we just haven’t talked about it since - ”
he waits for you to finish that thought, but you never do.
“i think this is the first time we’ve both been home at the same time since then, right?” he asks softly, peering at your averted eyes.
you frown. has it? have you just been in your head about it for the past 48 hours? surely you’d seen him at some point since then - you live together.
he sweeps a finger along your hairline, gently tucking your loose strands behind your ear.
“so,” he says, “what’d you think about?”
you look at him through your eyelashes. you, you want to say. instead, you choose, “this is all very new to me.”
“i can’t say i do this quite often with a roommate either.”
“stop,” you grumble, lips losing to a laugh. “i mean, do you wanna do it then?”
“do what?” he teases, his smile growing by the second.
you roll your eyes and tilt your head back in frustration. you lose your balance and feel your weight fall back until osamu reaches for your elbows.
“you still drunk?”
“no,” you say hotly. “i sobered up before i came home.”
“and why’s that?”
“no reason,” you huff. “can you just answer my question?”
his fingers are still gripping you tightly. he pulls you forward again, but instead of balancing you, you’re teetering on the balls of your feet.
he leans forward, hands moving from your arm to your chin. when he’s only an inch away from you, he whispers, “can i kiss you?”
before you can even finish saying yes, you’re pulled in quickly, his lips pressing against yours hard. fireworks set off in your gut, creeping up into your chest until you feel like your heart is going to burst.
when he pulls away to breathe, you swipe your thumbs against his lips.
“i got lipgloss all over you,” you mutter.
he grins. “strawberries.” he tilts your chin up, forcing you to look at him. “does that answer your question?”
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