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catsfor2 · 1 year

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hit me, part 2.5 (bonus baby)

wc: 1.1k, unedited warnings: swearing/language a/n: im sooooo tired so im sorry if this stinks. but anyway. I hope you guys like it regardless. ALSO wanted to also remind everyone that my requests are wide open ;)!! tags: @elliewilliamsmunch@intrnetdoll@me-and-your-husband@3zae-zae3@milahnoz@elliescumm@dragonasflowercrown@starpix@nopealoupe@annamommyy@muthafuckingstargirl

-j

part 1

part 1.5

part 2

Another meek chime rings out from your bed, calling to you, forcing you to slam your textbook shut out of frustration.

You’d been studying for maybe four hours at this point. It was far past dark, the sky now an opaque charcoal. Your eyes are aching. Your back is sore. It was time to take a break.

You hop on your bed, body weight causing it to gently bounce you up and down a few times.

You click your phone on.

New message from (+14556768854)

Image from (+14556768854)

New message from (+14556768854)

You hesitantly open it up, eyes squinting and head shunned like it might be something unsavory.

(+14556768854)

hey

can u tell me if this looks serious

IMG_5354 [Click to Download]

pls respond

y/n

Your heart lurches.

These texts were from Ellie.

Instantly on edge, and you frantically poke the image link to see it, tapping it repeatedly as if that would speed it up. It buffers, agonizingly, and you prepare yourself to see a grotesque and mangled amalgamation of colors in the next few seconds.

It finally loads.

You scan it quickly, studying and prodding the image with your eyes.

Your mouth flattens.

It’s…just a picture of her flexing.

Your thumbs type at an alarming speed.

that was not fuckijng funny

You throw your phone back at your mattress, deciding to ignore whatever nonsense Ellie will respond with.

It chimes immediately.

You regretfully pick it back up, still angry, and open to read what she says.

lol

“…Fucking stupid…” you mutter, already typing at your response.

im serious

thats not why i gave u my number

why then

You roll your eyes, memory already recalling a couple of days ago, where you very clearly and very obviously told her why.

for emergencies

or if u need me for something important idk

i dont wanna see your thirst traps

You knew that last part was a lie before you even typed it out. That picture she sent was not what you were expecting, but it still turned your insides to mush. It still had you a bit uneasy, nauseous even. Ellie had power over your body like that.

hmmm

i have an emergency

really bad one

You wait on her answer, skeptically, watching those three dots dance around in circles.

im hungry

You let out a sigh.

Then you click your phone off, throwing it elsewhere, and dejectedly gazing at the textbook sitting on your desk. Your professor would want you to, right?

Your phone interrupts you again, noisily snatching your attention with its sounds and jostling your focus from the book.

The sounds don’t stop.

Fuck, you think. Your phone is ringing.

You jerk to pick it up, fingers fumbling it, until finally you’re able to click ‘answer’ and bring it to your ear.

You’re quiet, hoping Ellie will speak first.

“Hi.” a voice says, and you quickly connect that it’s just Ellie’s, sleep riddled and raspy.

“…Hi.”

“So…what’d you think?”

Your eyebrows crease.

“Of what?”

“'Of what?' Of my fuckin’ progress, that’s what! Anthony has me eating, like, six whole chickens a week.” she boasts.

“Oh. I didn’t really…see?…I guess? I don’t know…”

“I mean—I’ve gained almost 30 this year.”

You remain confused. Is that a lot…?

Ellie must understand your silence for what it is and continues.

“Pounds, princess. Muscle. I’m getting fuckin’ huge.”

Oh.

“Okay—I got it now. Um…congrats, then.”

“What, that’s it? That’s all you got for me?”

“I—I don’t know!” you defend, voice coming out a bit louder and higher. “Your muscles look—like, big, all the time! I can’t tell the difference!”

She laughs loudly into the receiver, and you can’t help the smile you wear, hearing it so amplified in your ear.

“You need more pictures? I got more pictures.” she assures.

Simultaneous with her voice, you feel the sharp vibration and hear the dingy chime of your phone.

“Just took that one. You should look at it.” she adds, tone low but casual.

You deeply blush, feeling exposed despite being so alone in your bedroom.

“…Okay.” you agree, sliding the phone off your face to open it up.

A mirror reflection of Ellie’s back fills your screen, stretched and taut into a flexed pose. Her arms are out beside her head, clenched impossibly tight, in effort to completely portray her physique. Your eyes flick down, noticing in the image that she’s wearing only boxers.

She just took that picture?

The air in your room feels warmer, hotter than ever, so you strip down to a tank top and underwear. It feels wrong, almost. Talking to Ellie with this much skin showing. Her not knowing.

“Hello? You there?” Ellie loudly repeats over the speaker, audio fuzzy and weak.

You grasp your phone back up, stuttering out a response.

“Yeah—yes, here. I’m here.”

“'Kay. Your turn.”

You almost drop the device completely.

“My turn?”

“Fair’s only fair, right?”

“…Ellie…” you protest, skin burning with even the idea of her seeing you.

“C’mon, please? I took mine already, you can’t go back.”

You say nothing, whole body sweating, hoping and praying she’ll just forget about it.

“…I wanna see you.” she admits, voice warm and fuzzy through the speaker.

Your cheeks erupt red, a sense of burning flowing throughout your whole body at her words. You curl up, thighs squeezing at themselves, and try to answer.

“But—I’m…I’m in…pajamas.” you whisper, looking down at your bare legs and sheer top.

“You are? Even better.”

“I—I don’t know—”

“You really don’t have to. I’ll live, princess. I promise.”

Your body relaxes entirely, a breath of pure relief leaving your lips, as well as a forceful yawn. Ellie must’ve heard it through the phone.

“Aww—you tired? Should I hang up?”

“No! Don’t hang up! I want to keep talking! I was studying before so I’m a little—a little out of it but—”

“Nope. I’m hangin’ up. Princess needs her beauty sleep.”

“What—no, Ellie.” you argue, albeit lazily, as the energy you have left is truly running low.

“I’ll be here in the morning, won’t I? Good-niiiight—” she lulls, drawing out the last word.

“No! Don’t hang up! Ellie!”

On the other end of the phone, there’s only quiet.

An abyss of silence.

“…Ellie?” you try, voice small.

Nothing.

Your mouth purses, frustrated, as you listen to the absent noise through the speaker.

Still nothing.

You flip over, hostilely pulling the comforter over yourself and crashing your head into the pillow. You feel cold, but you know an extra blanket or some layers wouldn’t make you any warmer. Only she could.

Before you can shut your eyes, the chime sporadically rings out again, and you find yourself rapidly grasping the phone from your mattress.

Immediately you unlock it.

(+14556768854)

sweet dreams

dont let the bed bugs bute

fuck

bite *

call you tomorrow

Your eyelids finally shut, the weight of the day keeping them closed indefinitely. Your limbs go lax, succumbing to exhaustion.

You permit yourself to fall asleep, now knowing fully, that you will have the sweetest of dreams.

#ellie x reader #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie fic #ellie williams x reader #lesbian #tlou #tlou part 2 #catsfor2

2K notes · View notes

riaarivic · 5 months

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HIS - KNJ x F!reader: 2 Clean

💗Pairings idol!NamjoonxReader

💗 Genres idol!AU, Smut, Angst, Romance, Enemies to lovers

💗 Rating 18+ minors DNI

💗 Summary Four years have passed since the last time you saw Kim Namjoon. But now he was right in front of you, with the same stupid warm smile that made your good judgment (and underwear) disappear without a trace. You haven't seen him for four years. But now here you were working for BTS again. Having to see his insufferably attractive face every day of your life again.

But there's something Namjoon doesn't know. The little girl with almond eyes and dimples in her smile clinging to his ex-girlfriend's hip, not only looked too much like him. But she was… His.

💗 Warnings for the chapter: reader has very conflictive emotions about the news of her pregnancy at the begining. This chapter will have some back and forth time skips, miscommunications, pinning, SO MUCH PINNING, Hurt/comfort.

💗 A/N: ⚠️ dialogue in BOLD is intended to be in English if not, they are speaking in Korean. ⚠️

Love, Ria

💗 Chapter wordcount 4,8k

💗 Series index: 1 2

“The drought was the very worst, ah-ah. When the flowers that we'd grown together died of thirst It was months and months of back and forth, ah-ah, ah-ah. You're still all over me like a wine-stained dress I can't wear anymore” -Taylor Swift

💗💗💗MARCH 2021💗💗💗

Your daughter, Hana.

Amid the rapid-fire questions echoing in Namjoon's head, his pulse raced as you introduced the unexpected star of the show—

Who had just barged into the already tense conference room.

Like a small– But charming tornado.

"Everyone, this is my daughter, Hana. Baby, say hi; they will work with mommy." You said sitting her on your lap.

"Hello, I’m Hana. I’m Three years old.” Hana greeted, her innocence oozing charm.

She spoke korean.

That made Namjoon smile.

Cute.

"Baby Hana, do you know who we are?" Jimin asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

She nodded. Did she?

"You are Jimin, Jk, V, Jin, J-Hope, Suga, and… Rap Monster?” Hana’s innocent attempt earned laughter from everyone.

Everyone but Namjoon.

He halted what he was doing, a sudden realization hitting him like a ton of bricks.

She was three years old.

And she looked like him.

Too much like him.

“She’s so polite!” Jimin exclaimed.

“That’s so cute!” chimed in V.

“Are you an army, baby Hana?” Jin inquired, curious.

“No,” Hana replied. “I like Seventeen more.” Jin's shocked expression made everyone burst with laughter.

“Oh! But we’re cooler than them!” Jin tried to protest.

“I’m sorry; she has her interests, and right now, she’s obsessed with Wonwoo from Seventeen.” you tried to explain. But Seokjin was already about to get into a fight with a three year old to prove that, In fact, BTS were much cooler.

Not that Namjoon had a problem with Seventeen.

But he considered himself objectively cooler than them.

He stopped mid thought. Why the hell is he caring so much of what a toddler thought?

"Hana! Here you are!" A tall man with glasses emerged, breaking the charm of the moment. "We apologize for the interruption. Our Hana tends to run too fast. I am Eric Lee, Stardom’s chief financial operator and Y/N’s husband," he added, the unnecessary detail sending a ripple through the room.

The oblivious members resumed their excitement, but Namjoon felt like a computer crashing and about to explode. The mathematical calculations in his head were on the brink of causing a stroke.

If Namjoon's eyes could kill, Eric would be a bloody stain on the floor. Jealousy surged within him, a feeling he knew he didn't deserve.

But your daughter, she was three.

That meant you met this person around the same time you broke up.

You surely moved fast.

The Eric guy apologized again and took Hana from your arms to take her outside. She smiled at everyone and waved goodbye.

Her dimpled smile made Namjoon’s heart do a somersault.

The meeting continued as if background noise, but Namjoon's focus shifted to you, studying your face. That girl, she looked too much like him and nothing like this whoever-I-don’t-care guy.

It couldn't be possible.

He admitted he hurt you. But you would never do that to him.

Right?

If that girl was his.

You would have told him.

But he looked too much like him.

And he needed to talk to you.

💗💗💗FEBRUARY 2017💗💗💗

The conference room hummed with tension.

As the team gathered for a crucial meeting on the North American leg of their Wings Tour. Namjoon, the usually composed leader, wore a furrowed brow and an air of defiance. The discussion centered around their press schedules.

Namjoon's frustration boiled over as he voiced his stance, "I won't be a clown for them. We're artists. I won't subject the group to this circus. Where the only thing they ask us if we had ever eaten a hamburger"

You, seated across the table, shot him an incredulous look.

"Namjoon, we can't afford to cut the press schedules. If we want BTS to break into the mainstream music market, we need exposure. Press appearances are non-negotiable."

He scoffed, "Exposure won't matter if they don't take us seriously. I won't compromise our art for popularity."

The heated exchange drew the attention of the other members and the managers.

This was the third time this week.

And the main managers were starting to think if you were worht all this tenssion.

But you did get them an appearance on the three main late night shows in the US for their tour promotion.

So you two had to learn to get along.

The room crackled as you shot back, "This is not about compromising your art, Namjoon. It's about strategic promotion. We need the media to understand and appreciate you, all of you."

Namjoon's eyes flashed with anger, and just as the confrontation seemed to reach its peak, J-Hope intervened.

"I think it's enough. This is about the success of the group. We'll do what it takes to keep BTS in the public eye, and that includes press appearances."

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of the decision sinking in.

Yoongi, who had remained quiet, finally spoke up. "I get where Namjoon is coming from, but we have to adapt to the market. If this is what it takes, then we'll do it. And Namjoon, you have Y/N's support. She won't let us down."

You nodded, your frustration simmering beneath the surface. The resolution hung in the air as the team grudgingly agreed to move forward with the press schedules.

The future of BTS in the North American market now rests on the delicate balance between you and him.

And none of you would give the other the satisfaction of a win.

After the intense meeting, you needed a moment to decompress. So you headed to the lounge to join the stylist crew for lunch.

The atmosphere was more relaxed here, a welcome change from the tension in the conference room. The aroma of delicious foods filled the air as you settled at the table with your colleagues.

As you unwrapped your lunch, the stylist crew delved into a gossip session.

“Y/N-ssi, Do You know Ha-young? She’s from the makeup team” You nodded. “She just confessed to PD-nim that she caught one-sided feelings with one of the members” the younger stylist said leaning closer to you “Bad girl. She should have known better”

“My money is on Jimin” one of them said and the others giggled. You couldn’t help but feel a bit bad for the girl who had just lost her job.

Their director was unforgiving.

Just like they have told you on your first day here. Having any type of personal relationship with any of the members was the cardinal sin.

Poor Ha-young, was going to be blacklisted from the industry, a harsh punishment for what was deemed reckless and unprofessional behavior.

Listening to the gossip, you couldn't help but shake your head.

The idea of jeopardizing your career for a simple crush seemed both reckless and foolish.

As the chatter continued, you found yourself silently reaffirming your commitment to keeping personal and professional boundaries intact.

That will never be you.

💗💗💗NOVEMBER 2019💗💗💗

“I am really sorry, doll,”

Yoongi murmured, his eyes filled with genuine concern.

“I don’t understand anything that’s happening,” you admitted, the weight of the situation heavy on your shoulders. You patted Hana’s back as she slept peacefully unaware of the deep wound on her mother’s heart.

One that you would have to mend.

To have the strength to raise a child…

By yourself.

“You know it takes time for him to wrap his head around things. He’ll know better, give him time,” Yoongi offered, his voice reflecting a hint of confusion and frustration with Namjoon's actions.

“I wish I had that luxury, Yoongi. But she’s here. She’s alive, she needs things. I can’t just go and say that I need time. She needs a parent… Both of us.” Yoongi sighed, understanding the gravity of the situation.

“I considered it, you know? Not Having her” your heart sank confessing this for the first time outloud “But, I guess I was selfish, and I resent myself for it. The selfish side of me wanted to at least have this. But she’s so much more than just us. She’s so special.”

“I can see that,” he replied, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“You hate babies, Min,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood.

“This one’s alright. She’s a part of you too. And that makes her special.”

“I’m scared,” you confessed, vulnerability seeping into your words.

“I know, doll,” Yoongi reassured, his tone softening.

“I don’t know if I can be a good mom to her. I can’t do this alone.”

“First of all, you are not alone. Second of all, you are the most capable, hardworking, and kind person I’ve met. It’s going to be fucking hard? Yes, I’ll not sugarcoat it. But you got this.”

“I want to punch him in the face so much.” You felt the first tears start to fall from your eyes.

“I know, doll. Me too,” Yoongi admitted, the unspoken understanding between you two creating a bond of shared frustration and support.

Yoongi placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, his gaze filled with both empathy and frustration. "Look, Y/N, I know Namjoon, and this is so unlike him. We've been through everything together for more than ten years, and he's not the type to turn away from responsibilities. There has to be something else going on."

Your eyes filled up with tears again, a mixture of sadness and anger. "I just don't understand why he sent his mother, with an envelope full of money instead of facing us himself. It feels like he's treating us like a burden."

Yoongi's expression hardened, a rare sight for someone known for his calm demeanor. "He messed up big time, and he needs to face the consequences. You and Hana deserve better."

"I thought he loved me. I thought we meant something to each other," you confessed, your voice cracking.

"He does, Y/N. I can't explain his actions, but I've never seen him act this way. Whatever it is, he needs to sort it out. Meanwhile, you focus on being the amazing mother I know you can be."

Tears spilled down your cheeks, and Yoongi pulled you into a tight embrace. "I'm here for you, Y/N. We all are. BTS isn't just about the stage; we're a family and both of you are a part of it. Families stick together, no matter what."

As you let out a shaky breath, a mixture of gratitude and sadness, you whispered, "Thank you, Yoongi."

"Anytime, doll. You’ve got this," he reassured, his words carrying a promise of solidarity and support. The hotel room, once filled with the weight of uncertainty, now held a glimmer of hope amid the storm of emotions.

You’ve got this.

You had to.

💗💗💗MARCH 2017💗💗💗

They just got nominated to an international award.

Everyone else was celebrating their milestone.

But Namjoon just couldn't enjoy it as much as he wanted to.

He was happy.

For the first time in his life he felt like they were finally receiving the praise they deserved for their art and their hard work.

But the weight of their public persona and the fine lines they could never cross as idols in Korea, was growing heavier by day. And the endless possibilities of major exposure scared the fuck out of him.

They were on their six date of the tour when he felt like he was going to die.

The air backstage in Newark was thick with the aftermath of Namjoon's exhaustion-fueled breakdown.

You found him leaning against a wall, a cigarette between his fingers. He couldn’t hide the trembling of his hands.

"That's an awful habit you have right there," you commented, eyeing the smoke.

"I can say the same to you," he retorted, nodding at the Coca-Cola can in your hand. "What can I say, everyone picks their own poison." you smiled at him honestly. For the first time.

Surprisingly, it led to the first civil conversation between you two.

You leaned against the wall beside him, sipping your cola, the fizz providing a rhythmic contrast to the quiet.

He broke the silence, "You know, sometimes I feel like I'm just a puppet, dancing to whatever tune the media plays."

"It’s okay to feel tired sometimes, you know?" you offered.

"I do, but being their leader and their spokesperson. I can’t afford to be nervous or too tired," Namjoon admitted. "I speak for myself in these interviews. It is a huge weight on my shoulders to speak for everyone. Sometimes they might not agree with what I’m saying."

"Yeah, I reckon Panda Express being your favorite restaurant in America is a pretty controversial opinion," you teased, earning a hearty laugh from him.

"Do you think they are going to ever take us seriously?" he asked with a laugh and a touch of desperation.

"They better do. You guys will own this industry one day."

He shot you a grateful smile, and for a moment, the weight on his shoulders seemed to ease.

"That is a pretty controversial opinion. I am a 'what’s your favorite American food' away from literally losing it," he confessed.

"You know," you began, changing the topic with a playful grin, "I think your controversial opinions are what make you more human to your fans. They love you for being real."

Namjoon chuckled, the tension dissipating. "Maybe I should start a blog—'Kim Namjoon's Unfiltered Thoughts.'"

"You might break the internet with that," you joked, enjoying the rare camaraderie.

As the conversation lightened, you both shared a laugh, finding solace in this unexpected connection. The backstage chaos seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in a bubble of understanding.

"You'll do fine. You always do," you reassured him.

"Thank you."

As a friendly gesture, you pulled a small disinfectant from your pocket.

"Manager Sejin was looking for you; you better use this before he finds you. You don't want him scolding you for the smell." you said before turning away to head back inside.

Namjoon chuckled, taking the disinfectant. "Thanks, Y/N. For being here."

"Anytime, Joon," you replied, the use of the nickname a testament to the newfound camaraderie

He smiled, and the scent of the disinfectant mixed with your fragrance, like flowers in the air.

As Namjoon walked away, disappearing into the backstage hustle, he took a moment to collect his thoughts.

"Y/N!" A familiar voice called out, it was Sejin, the ever-watchful manager, threading through the maze of crew members and equipment.

You approached him, noting the stern expression on his face. "Mr. Sejin, you were looking for Namjoon?"

He nodded, "Yes, he needs to wrap up the interviews and rest. The schedule is tight, and we can't afford any delays."

You couldn't help but feel a sense of protectiveness toward Namjoon. "He's doing his best, Sejin. But he's human, not a machine."

Namjoon was about to walk to where you were but that coment made him freeze on his feet.

Sejin sighed, his stern expression softening. "I know, Y/N. I just worry about them all. The pressure is immense."

"It is, but moments like these," you gestured to the chaotic backstage, "it is good remind them that they're not alone."

He offered a small smile, appreciating the sentiment. "You're right. Well, let's make sure Namjoon gets some rest."

As you both navigated the backstage maze, you didn’t know he listened to the conversation. And he couldn't shake off the unexpected warmth that had emerged from the brief encounter with you.

The chaotic world of stardom was vast, but in that moment, a connection had formed—one that hinted at the resilience and humanity behind the larger-than-life personas.

Maybe you weren’t that bad.

💗💗💗AUGUST 2020💗💗💗

You had gone to a therapist when Hana was one.

The therapist's office had become a sanctuary for you, you needed guidance on the hard task of being a single mother to Hana.

She was going to ask the inevitable questions about her father one day. And you needed to know what to say. But no amount of therapy could have prepared yourself for this day.

Hana was smart, too smart for her age.

And when you came back from a playdate at her friends house.

She wanted answers to her questions.

"Why don't I have a daddy?"

You two were back in her room getting ready to sleep and you knew that question was coming.

You took a deep breath as you sat next to her, trying to find the right words. "All families are different, baby. Some have a mommy and a daddy. Some have two mommies or two daddies. Some, like ours, have a mommy and all your uncles and aunts. Isn't that fun?"

"It is fun," she replied, but the dissatisfaction lingered in her eyes. She had more questions, and you knew your initial answer wasn't enough.

And now she discovered kpop.

And she was obsessed with it.

You felt like throwing up everytime you saw him on your screen.

The bitter reminder that she deserved to know the truth. However, you weren't ready to shatter the illusion just yet. Telling anyone that her father was the leader of the biggest music group in history seemed unbelievable.

You knew how crazy you will sound.

Even your therapist had a hard time believing your story the first time you went to her.

But, your daughter was the living image of her father.

And you had shown her your old Big Hit contract for her to finally believe you.

"So I don’t have a dad?" Hana's expectant eyes pleaded for an honest answer.

"You do have one. He is living his dream, making millions of people happy," you stammered, your hands trembling as you combed her hair. Even though Hana was still a child, she sensed the discomfort and wisely chose not to press the topic any further—for today.

Later that night, as if the universe mocked you, he appeared on your TV screen. "I want to be a dad," he confessed to the interviewer, his smile was radiant as always. It felt like a punch to your stomach, the wine glass slipping from your hand and staining the new rug.

Fuck him.

He was a dad. He just chose not to be one.

The fandom even had the joke that he had a hidden wife and kids.

You entertained thoughts of shattering his public image, creating rumors that could strip away the disarming smile he flaunted. But the truth was, you could never inflict that pain on your daughter.

As the wine stain marred your rug, you vowed to shield Hana from the harsh realities as long as you could. But beneath your composed exterior, a storm of emotions raged.

Just for a little longer.

She will soon be old enough to understand.

But you didn't look forward breaking her heart with the news that her father didn't want her in his life.

💗💗💗FEBRUARY 2018💗💗💗

Everyone was tense.

The word disbandment floated heavily on the air.

After this morning’s team meeting things were pretty rough.

They were tired.

They felt like nothing was working in their favor.

Some of the members wanted a break.

Some of them wanted to keep going.

He had to remain unbiased.

You knew how unfair it was.

For him and for all of them.

Message from NJ: meet me upstairs. studio.

You knew what that meant.

He wanted to fuck the frustration away.

And you would be lying if you said you didn’t want to.

This was the riskiest thing you've ever done yet. You knew how dangerous it was for you especially. You were breaking your own rule and you were being careless.

You knew perfectly well what were the consecuences of what you were doing.

But you couldn’t get to care enough to stop you from hurriedly hitting the lock combination of his Studio.

His tired eyes greeted you. And a second later you were pinned to the wall behind you, hands everywhere and not enough at the same time.

And you wanted to ignore how much it hurt you that you were just this to him.

A relief.

“I missed this” he whispered against your lips. His tounge tasting your lower lips. Wanting to savour everything before devouring it all at once.

You missed it too.

But you were too stubborn to say it outloud.

And he was too, trying to pretend that he missed this whatever you had going on.

Instead of just you.

As always it started like a fight for dominance. His kisses carrying a hunger that transcended mere physical release. The urgency in his touch revealed a deeper need, one he was too stubborn to acknowledge.

Namjoon steps between your thighs and you can feel how much he needed this. His body is warm against yours as he lowers his lips to kiss down the column of your neck.

"You smell so good" you feel the soft breeze of his breath against your skin. And before you could reciprocate his words you felt the sharp pain of his teeth biting the same spot of your skin he just kissed a second ago.

"Namjoon-" a small whisper leaves your lips and a wave of conflicted feelings wash over his body.

He wanted to drown the world around you.

Where only the two of you existed.

And that scared him.

How much he really needed you.

He lifted you, his grip momentarily loosing his balance, and both of you erupted into laughter as you tumbled onto the sofa. "I'm so sorry," he said, his eyes holding a vulnerability that surpassed the laughter. "I'm just... I'm so tired."

His heart was breaking.

With a gentle smile, you cupped his cheek, your thumb wiping away his tears. "It’s okay, Joonie. Everything is going to be okay."

Your words rendered him defenseless. He was so tired of pretending he didn’t feel safe in your arms. He wrapped his arms around you and you could feel his body trembling with sobs.

He called you to fuck his frustration out of his system.

Just like you’ve been doing for a few months now.

But now on his studio floor he had a realization he wasn’t ready to confess just yet.

Everything else he had been saying to himself about you was a lie.

How he didn’t care; that you were just a passing crush. That he was too tired and too frustrated and that you both enjoyed each other’s company. That you were only good sex to him.

All of that was a lie.

As he kept crying and hugging you on his studio floor.

Both of you came to the same conclusion silently.

This wasn’t just sex; friends-with-benefits secret thing you had going on.

It was something much more complicated.

Something that could potentially destroy you.

The two of you stayed in silence on the floor, still wrapped on each other's arms.

That was the moment Namjoon realized.

He called you for sex.

But he just needed you.

💗💗💗MARCH 2021💗💗💗

A Battleground.

The room felt like it had become a battleground of emotions, the air thick with tension as memories and unspoken words lingered between you and Namjoon.

Right after the briefing ended he had dragged you into a conference room. It had been a week since you had met again and they were preparing to go back to Korea.

He was a sound man now. Not the youg man almost teenager that would have rushed into conclusions. First he needed to make his own research.

Have a few conversations with people.

Because he would never outlive the embarrasment if he was wrong.

But, all Namjoon could find was that Hana was your daughter and not your husband's.

And now you were alone for the first time in Three years, the silence was deafening, the unspoken history between you threatening to consume the room.

In the past, when you were alone with him, confessions of love had been whispered like forbidden promises against your lips in a conference room.

Just like the one you were in.

Today, his gaze was intense, his movements calculated, as if he were dissecting the reality before him. The little girl playing outside in your office seemed like a mirage, a cruel joke that fate had played on both of you.

Namjoon's stare bore into you, and the atmosphere crackled with the spark of four years of unsaid words. Finally, the tension shattered like glass as he spat out,

"Is she mine?"

His voice, sharp and accusatory, slashed through the heavy air.

A small, bitter part of you considered lying, but the futility of it hung in the air.

He knew, yet he chose to ignore it.

"Yes, Namjoon, she's your daughter," your voice strained, attempting to retain a semblance of control. "Her name is Hana Lee."

Two heartbeats passed, revealing a Namjoon you no longer recognized.

The man before you had become a diplomat, his mind working to carefully choose his words, concealing emotions you once knew he wore on his sleeve.

He was deflecting, you knew what he was doing.

You trained him to do that, long ago when you worked with them.

He was controlling his real emotions and speaking like at a press conference.

Another heartbeat passed and a spark of genuine emotion broke through when the reality of his daughter's existence sank in.

"Lee?"

His voice began to fill with an anger simmering beneath the surface, like molten lava fighting its way to the top of a volcano. "My husband’s last name," you retorted, your tone flat, a facade of control slipping away.

"You gave another man's last name to my daughter" his eyes darkened in disbelief and you couldn't help but chuckle at his nonsense.

If he was going to be this cruel.

You could play the game just as well.

You both were used to tearing each other into pieces anyway.

"You weren't there to give her yours, so." your voice sounded even more cynical than you expected to.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me?" Namjoon's jaw clenched, frustration etched across his features.

A bitter chuckle escaped your lips. “Did you expect a wedding invite?”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “I meant… the fact that I have a daughter.” he growled the last sentence through his teeth.

So much for calm and collected.

"Oh, but I tried," you shot back, frustration bubbling over. "Got on a plane for sixteen hours with a baby on my lap. Only to be warmly welcomed by your mother and Sejin with an envelope full of money and the threat to take her from me. What was I supposed to do?"

Namjoon's eyes narrowed in disbelief. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You don't remember. Let me refresh your memory, shall we?" Bitterness laced your words. "You sent your mother and your manager to tell me that having an unplanned child out of wedlock would have 'destroyed you and Bangtan,' that you were so very sorry and told me to disappear"

He was about to speak but you didn't let him. All the things you have wanted to say for four years started to flow out of you like a dam that had just broken.

And the water would destroy everything on its way.

Starting with the both of you.

"They said you didn't want anything to do with us. And that if I ever came back, they would take Hana away from me. That I was just a minor mistake, an experience you just needed to have'' Anger surged within you. "Riding the horse isn't what you call it, right? And that my daughter was just the consequence of my own carelessness. That I should have known better."

You didn't know when you started to shout and now you couldn't stop. You wanted him to hurt as much as you were. "You told them to tell me all that. Because you didn't have the balls to say it right to my face"

"Or maybe you just didn't give a fuck."

Namjoon's features shifted from confusion to a hint of regret. "“That didn’t… I didn’t... I would never have done that."

“You didn't do what?” You turned away, unable to look at him. "You can't just waltz in here and pretend like you didn’t know," you said, your voice cracking with rage. "You missed everything, Namjoon. She's so smart and kind. Even when she feels like there's a missing part from her"

“Y/n” his voice was barely a whisper as his finger touched your wrist, sending electric shockwaves through your body. “I was waiting for you, but you never came.”

“Bullshit.”

“I don’t understand what game you’re playing right now Kim Namjoon, but I’ll tell you something. It's over. I will not let you make fun of us anymore.” Your throat tightened, tears threatening to spill. “You left me a letter, remember? and the text message after that. 'I hope you understand,” you said, mocking his voice.

Your laughter was bitter, filled with the pain of betrayal. "You sent me away, Namjoon. I couldn't just come back after that."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I waited for you at the hotel. I called you so many times that day." he said, desperation lacing his voice. "I waited for hours and you never came. Do you really believe that I wouldn't have taken responsibility for my daughter? That I would send her away?" He was shouting now too.

And he was close, too close to you now. You could bear his presence from a distance.

But not this close.

This close to him you couldn't pretend that your heart wasn't breaking for him.

That you didn't miss his eyes.

"I don't know, Namjoon. When you have a child, a life to protect. You would do anything to keep them safe. From anyone and everything. Not that you would know any of that" The words slipped from you before you realized how low of a blow was that. But you couldn't find yourself regretting it.

"Because we both know what you would choose if it came between the group or us." You stopped and smiled at him bitterly "And I understand, Namjoon. I truly do. You were finally living the dream you sacrificed everything for. I don't blame you anymore for it."

"I understand" your voice cracked filled with sadness.

And you truly did.

You knew how much he sacrificed.

He fought for his success with teeth and nails.

They all did.

And you knew how unfair it would have been to ask for him to drop everything for you and your daughter.

You understood him.

And that was the worst of it.

In a heartbeat anger left his body, and he was filled with the weight of a shared past. Everything was too much, this was too much and again his mask fell just for you.

He lifted his hand to grab your wrist, the small contact of his skin with yours felt like fire runnig trough your veins.

"I loved you, and I always have," he confessed.

The room hung in tumultuous silence, the weight of past wounds and the rawness of the present colliding in a clash of emotions.

You were about to respond when a small knock echoed through the room.

The knock on the door startled both of you, a temporary interruption to the emotional storm that raged in the room. Your eyes never left Namjoon's, the intensity of the unspoken words lingering between you like a heavy fog.

Namjoon stepped back, breaking the physical connection between you. He cleared his throat, the diplomat persona returning, but the vulnerability in his eyes betrayed the turmoil within. "We're not done," he said, a mixture of command and plea in his voice.

As the door creaked open, your eyes darted to see a petite figure standing there, a shadow in the doorway. Hana's eyes mirrored yours, wide and uncertain as she looked between the two adults. The air thickened with tension, the past colliding with the present in a collision of conflicting emotions.

"Mommy?" Hana's innocent voice cut through the charged atmosphere. Her gaze shifted from you to Namjoon, her curiosity evident "Mr. Rapmonster. why are you here?". You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself.

Namjoon's eyes softened as he looked at Hana, and for a moment, the hardened exterior cracked. "I'm... a friend of your mommy's," he said, his words carefully chosen.

"A friend?" Hana repeated in Korean, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. She might be young, but she wasn't oblivious to the undercurrents in the room.

She was smart. Even for her age, and she was quick to understand the things that were in front of her.

Just like him.

You knelt down beside her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Yes, sweetheart, just a friend, and we were talking" you assured her, shooting a pointed glance at Namjoon. The distance between you felt like an unbridgeable chasm.

Namjoon, sensing the tension, attempted a reassuring smile, but it looked strained. "I heard you like drawing. Do you draw a lot?" he asked, trying to engage Hana in a conversation that felt more awkward than casual.

Hana nodded, her gaze never leaving Namjoon. "I like drawing flowers," she replied, the tension in the room momentarily diffusing as she shared a piece of her world.

Namjoon crouched down to her eye level, a genuine smile softening his features. "Flowers are beautiful. Maybe you can show me your drawings sometime?" he suggested.

Hana's eyes flickered between you and Namjoon, processing the complex dynamics in the room. "Okay, but only if Mommy says it's okay," she declared, a hint of protectiveness in her voice.

Namjoon glanced at you, seeking approval. You nodded slightly, acknowledging the silent agreement. Hana's presence had inadvertently shifted the focus, giving you a momentary reprieve from the emotional confrontation.

As Namjoon and Hana engaged in a tentative conversation about art and colors, you retreated to the periphery, watching the scene unfold.

The wounds of the past were still raw, the emotions tangled, but for Hana's sake, you found a fragile truce with the man who once held your heart.

The journey from enemies to reluctant allies had just begun, and the path ahead was uncertain, shrouded in the complexities of a shared history that demanded resolution.

"Y/N, we need to talk" Hyung-Joon reappeared at the door, his voice filled with urgency and you nodded.

You knew this shouting match with Namjoon would bring consequences.

And you felt for a second that you just stepped into the past.

"When I was drowning, that's when I could finally breathe"

💗💗💗💗💗💗 Well hello there! First of all I am so, SO grateful for all the love this story is getting. It really means the world to me. Sincerely Thank you. With that beign said I want to leave a few notes for context and clarification. 1. This is a work of fiction, even if it is inspired by real events and real people. I will take creative licenses to make the storyline make sense. So, some things will be different as it happened IRL.

💗💗💗💗💗💗 Well hello!

First of all, THANK YOU. I am so happy to see all the love this story is getting and it means the world to me. Every comment, like and repost I appreciate it from the bottom of my heart.

And now, some notes for context:

This story is inspired on real events and people. But it is not a real representation or is trying to say that any of this happened IRL. With that beign said I'll take some creative licenses and adapt things that happened to the plot of the story.

2. I fucked up.... math is not my thing guys. Hana is three years old not four. Im sorry.

3. We all want a supportive friend like Yoongi in our lives.

4. The story is written in time skips, but the main storyline is March 2021 'The present'

I'm really exited for you guys to see what's next!!

Love,

Ria. 💗💗💗💗💗💗 TAG LIST: @felicityroth @cuteipat @jjinjo @mochimommy2002 @amarawayne @canarystwin Ps. If you want to be on the tag list drop a comment below!! 👩🏼‍💻✨

#bts fanfic #bts smut #bts imagines #bts #bts au #bts namjoon #bts fic #namjoon smut #namjoon #rm #bts rm

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malewgtfstories · 5 months

Text

Chub…

** Warning Contains Racism ** (the racist gets what he deserves 😉😉😉) The beginning of a new school year was meant to be a time to catch up with your friends and learn new things. But to many others, it was a time to show off their rocking hot new body. Many people slaved away in the gym just for the aesthetics of it. That was the case for Greg. He had been working on his abs all summer and was excited to show them off.

Greg was known to be an entitled racist white boy who hated all the Hispanics at his school. He hated them with a burning passion always bullying one when he had the opportunity. He hated how hairy they were. They hated their curly hair, their loudness, their protruding stuffed bellies, he hated how lazy they were, and how dumb they were. He hated it all. The only thing he liked about them was their conservative views. As the school year started, he knew he had to face the people he hated the most. His worst nightmare had just begun. He stepped onto the school bus with the hope that one of the people on the bus would be white. To his dismay, he saw only shades of brown in the bus. He hated every second he was on the bus. As the bus hit the brakes opened to doors to let students out Greg was the first to leave. He pushed all the Hispanic kids out of his way. Little did he know he had pushed the wrong kid. A new kid who seemed to appear out of nowhere. His name was Juan, and he was notorious for being lazy, dumb, hairy, and most importantly fat. Every quality Greg hated.

Greg buried to his first class where he sat with his best friend Jack the best QB of their high school. He shared the same opinions as Greg did. Greg took up most of their first period venting about how much he hated the "fat illegal slobs" that attended his school. Jack agreed. Through all their anger they didn't realize that Juan was in their class ears-doping their conversation. He had a little plan for Greg and knew what to do.

Later that day,

With lunch approaching Greg was starving and wanted something to eat. Juan knew this and set his plan into action. Greg was stuck with the hard question of choosing between a PB&J or a pizza. Greg chose a pizza and found his seat at an empty table. Juan waddled his way to him. Greg noticed him and rolled his eyes as he felt the table groan when Juan sat down. Juan stared deep into Greg's eyes. This pissed off Greg and told him "What do you want you fat dirty Mexican pig?" "Nothing much", replied to Juan. "If that's it get lost. I don't want you to steal my food". "Well, I came to offer you something. It's really good I promise". "Ughhhhh. Ok, but you better leave after" a long pause "Well? what is it?" "Well if you insist." Juan pulls out a big juicy taco. When Greg laid his eyes on the taco, he knew something was off. He felt his stomach churn. A sudden wave of fear came over him. He rejected the offer. But Juan told him "If you want me to leave you have to eat it. Every single bite". With fear and his lip trembling, he took the first bite. It was an explosion of taste. His taste buds were in haven. He loved the mixture of salty and spicy. He took another bite and then it was all gone. He was hypnotized by the taste. He thirsted for more. As soon as he began to eat it, it quickly finished. He looked at Juan with hunger in his eyes and asked for more. Juan quickly complied and gave him taco after taco. With each one hitting his taste buds his skin began to itch. His straight blond hair quickly began to darken, and they twirled and began to curl. His once smooth face began to grow dark hairs. Leaving looking years older. He was aware of his transformation, but he couldn't stop eating the tacos. Next up was his stomach which slowly inflated with pounds of fat. He never had love handles but they appeared as a result of his metamorphosis. His legs plumed up with lard. Leaving his thighs to constantly rub off against each other. His gut grew bigger and bigger leaving him to not be able to his feet much less his dick. Talking about his dick it was now cushioned with a layer of fat making it seem smaller than it was, but on the plus side, his little member seemed to grow thicker than it was a few minutes ago. The last portion of his rebirth was his brain it lost all its knowledge leaving him with an IQ score of 65. This transformation also morphed the world around him. The previous life of Greg was erased from existence. He now had parents who were bigger than he was and constantly wanted him to grow into a real Mexican. Greg was no more the one who took his place was Edgard. The funny part is Edgard didn't know Greg existed either, but deep down in the back of his consciousness existed a fragment of Greg stuck in the body of his worst nightmare. Juan looked into the now dumbed-down Edgard and told him with a chuckle "You made fun of me and called me a fat dirty Mexican pig. Well, you should look at the mirror porker". Edgard didn't care what he said after all the only thing he cared about was to fill the void in his stomach. Juan than vanished waiting to get his next victim. Leaving Edgard to live his life off gorging himself.

#race tf #permanent tf #fat gain tf #male tf #male weight gain stories #thin to chunky #bearification

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thirstybtsthoughts · 1 year

Note

i rewatched hoseok’s vlive (that one where he was alone in a dance studio of their company)

imagine you two alone in there and he would fuck you infront of that huge mirror. him fucking you from behind and his hands are on your neck making you look up and watch yourself getting fuck by him. of course he would turn off the cctv in there if there’s one or probably going to get that one copy and save it for him. making a folder on his computer 🫣🤭

The way he takes loads of mirror selfies, he would probably love to whip out his phone and film your reactions through the mirror 🥵😰

I had to drop this recent mirror selfie bc he’s so damn fluffy I want to get him all hot and sweaty 😏😏

#asks #bts #anon #hoseok thirst #j-hope thirst

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kitkatomo · 8 months

Text

Yes, Chef

Content: workplace omo, kitchen omo, boss/employee power dynamic, bladder control, bladder desperation

Customers never realize how fucking hot a commercial kitchen is.

With ovens and stovetops and grills and the dishwasher constantly emitting waves of heat, it's no small wonder that sweat pours down the backs of everyone who works in one. All that gross sweating, however, has an unintended side effect: constant thirst and a need to replenish oneself with water.

Why, you yourself often find yourself drinking close to a gallon of water during an average long weekend shift. As an entry-level chef, you spend your days rushing around the kitchen at the orders of your seniors, so you work up quite a thirst.

And with that thirst comes another little problem.

It's 8 o'clock pm, several hours into your shift, when you feel the first twinge of your heavy bladder. It's been a hot day, and you've kept yourself very well-hydrated as you worked on a constant stream of chopped vegetables for the head chef's newest creation.

It's 8 o'clock pm, and you need to pee. No big deal, you normally take a 5-minute break at this time anyway as long as all of your assigned vegetables are prepped. As you reach behind you to peel off your apron, about to shout that you're taking 5, you hear a cry of pain from down the line.

"Shit, she needs stitches," you hear the sous chef shout, "You down there! Come debone and fillet the salmon!"

He is pointing at you. You swallow heavily as you re-tie your apron, the band pressing lightly on your aching, swollen bladder.

"Yes, chef!" you shout in reply as you carefully make your way down the line. From this point, you can see the head chef, and he clearly sees you too. He tilts his head, looking thoughtful for just a moment, before resuming his own work.

The fish is heavy, and you have to lean on the counter as you drag it towards you. Your bladder twinges, full to bursting and unable to be emptied. From this spot in the kitchen, you can hear the water drip, drip, dripping from the faucet as more fish is being thawed in cold running water. With every drip, your thighs squeeze together as a drip of a different kind threatens to escape your body.

It isn't as hot at the fish prep station, but you can feel yourself sweating as you carefully pick the bones out of the salmon and break it down into proper fillets. You lean hard on the counter to pull it closer, and to your horror you feel a tiny drop of pee leak out of you. You squeeze your thighs tighter, hoping against hope that it isn't visible on your dark trousers.

It's 9 o'clock, you need to pee and you're not sure how much time you have until it happens one way or another.

Finally, the fish is completely prepped. Sighing with relief, you reach behind you to untie your apron when a pair of strong hands stop you.

"Where do you think you're going?" a low voice asks you, the quiet tone noticeable in the cacophony of the kitchen. It's the head chef, his fingers brushing the inside of your wrist. You shiver, and you can't tell if it's from his touch or your own desperation.

"T-to the bathroom, sir," you reply, trying not to flush red.

He hums in thought.

"We're in the middle of dinner rush."

"I know, I j-just, it'll only be 5 minutes, please–"

"No, you can wait. I need rosemary prepped for the special tomorrow."

"Sir, please, I can't–"

"Yes, you can. You're not leaving this kitchen until you've stripped all the leaves from the rosemary. And none of that cheating shit either, do it properly. One. By. One."

"Yes, chef," you mutter, then set down your fish station knife. Washing your hands is a special kind of torture, the warm water only a reminder of the warmth sloshing around in your body, threatening to burst at any moment. You hobble back to your original station, trying not to make it obvious that you're squeezing your legs together.

The rosemary pile is huge. You know what the head chef needs for the special: pluck the leaves off the rosemary, one by one, then roll and finely mince them. Crossing your legs, you begin to work on the seemingly Sisyphean task before you.

Pluck.

Your bladder throbs once, twice, nearly in time with the plucks. It's good that you aren't holding a knife right now as your hands begin to tremble.

"Keep going," the head chef murmurs to you as he passes by to observe your work, "And make sure you drink up. We can't have you getting dehydrated."

He sets a cold water with a straw next to your station, the straw just long enough that you can take a sip... if you press against the counter.

The sip is cool, but the metal edge of the table digs in hard between your hipbones. You hold back a groan as you feel a tickle at your urethra, realizing that things are beginning to get dire.

At this rate, you're not sure if you'll make it to the end of the rosemary, much less the last hour until the restaurant closes at 10:30.

"Chef, please–" you nearly whimper. He subtly, as if he were inspecting your knife work, reaches around your front and lightly pokes your bulging bladder with three fingers. You feel another drop, more like a leak, spurt out of you and into your trousers.

"Keep up the good work," is all he says before leaving again.

You can feel his dark eyes watching you from wherever he goes in the kitchen as you keep plucking that damned rosemary.

Pluck.

Not one single stem enters the finished herb pile. You see the head chef pointedly glance at the cold water he brought you, and you drink as directed. It hits your bladder almost as soon as it enters your throat, and you nearly moan as the pressure ratchets higher.

It hurts, oh god, the pressure hurts. But also...

You can feel arousal simmering in your body. Whether from the bladder pressure, the thrilling fear of wetting, or the head chef's dark eyes and strict orders, you know that the throbbing in your lower body isn't just from your bladder anymore.

The rosemary is stripped. It's 5 minutes to 10 pm and with deep breaths to steady your hands, you begin to finely mince it. Mincing doesn't take long, so within ten minutes, you have a large bowl of it ready for the special.

"Very nice work," the head chef says as he inspects your bowl, "I think you deserve your reward, don't you?"

"Yes, chef," you nearly gasp. Relief so close, yours at last!

"You're excused from cleanup duty tonight and can go home early," he says loudly to the groans of the other chefs nearby, before dropping his voice to a whisper, "Go into the old maintenance closet inside my office and stand on the mop drain. Don't let anyone see you."

"Ch-chef?"

He licks his lips, his eyes somehow darker than before.

"I want to see it happen. I want to see you let go, all over yourself," he murmurs, "Can you do that for me?"

Arousal and desperation roar inside your head. You nod, slowly, and see his eyes flash.

"How long do I have to–?"

"Until everyone else is gone."

"But, sir, that's usually midnight on Saturdays!"

"Then you'll hold until midnight. Don't you dare lose it early."

You take a shaky breath.

"Yes, chef."

You head to the staff room to get your things, then sneak over to the head chef's office instead of leaving out the back door after ensuring the coast was clear.

You set your things on his desk and open the old and disused maintenance closet. The mop floor drain is right there, and you lean heavily on the wall, bouncing up and down and crossing your legs.

It's 10:30 pm and the restaurant has closed. Outside of this tiny room and your own protesting body, you can hear your colleagues cleaning up their stations. With any luck, things will go quickly tonight.

If not... midnight.

Midnight is when the head chef will reappear.

Midnight is when you can finally let go, and maybe find some relief of a different kind.

Midnight.

An hour and a half away.

You can make it.

It's only an hour and a half.

You grip yourself hard over your pants and close your eyes, trying not to focus on the pressure inside of you, the pee swelling your lower belly to a softball-sized hard lump.

Drip.

#omorashi #bladder control #bladder desperation #male omorashi #female omorashi

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kaisers-house-of-desires · 8 months

Note

For the Malleus x Vampire Y/N, I mostly thought it would be fun if the reader was freshly turned, perhaps by Malleus or Lilia, and as a result wished to test the limits of their sexual relationship with their boyfriend/husband

- J

Hmm...I think this is doable~! A bit of a lengthier one but I do hope you enjoy~

Title: Love Bites

Characters: Malleus x Vampire!m!Reader | Lilia Vanrouge

Contains: Vampirism, clothing sex

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Full request below the cut

All characters are 18+

MINORS, FEM ALIGNED, AGELESS/BLANK BLOGS DNI

Reblogs > likes

Thirsty...you were thirsty.

Your throat felt severely dry and raw, like you were swallowing nothing but cotton and razor blades. Eyes, once your usual color, were now a bright bloody red, slitted pupils blowing out. Looking up, you saw the one that did this to you.

The frightened Lilia sat just some feet from you, his lips and chin stained with your blood. He looked just as frightened as you, just as confused. Neither of you were sure of what was going on. All you could remember was you offered Lilia your wrist for a quick drink, as he hadn't had anything authentic in awhile, but after that, your mind went blank.

"L...Li..." Speaking was a task all on its own, your voice barely coming out in a squeak. You felt like if you couldn't get something to drink soon, your very body would just give out. You reached over to him, using your body to plead for help.

"D-Don't move!" Lilia frantically stood up, panting lightly as if he wasn't breathing that whole time. "I-I...I know what to do, h-hold on!" You had never seen him so scared or run off so clumsily.

You kept your breathing slow, trying desperately not to swallow again. Though it felt like breathing was making it dryer and rougher. Your vision blurred and darkened at the edges as you waited, the sound in your ears slowly becoming nothing but your own heartbeat, which soon faded as it ceased to beat. That only spiked your worries more.

My heart's not beating...my heart's not beating, my heart's not beating--

"...(Y/n)...?" The new voice jarred you out of your thoughts, and as you looked up, your vision no longer held that dark border and tried to focus itself. The one that stood before you was none other than your partner Malleus, who looked even more confused than you did. "Wh-What...?"

"M...Mal..."

"H-Here!"

Lilia's voice now grabbed your attention, tearing you away from Malleus as he came running back, sliding down beside you as he held a glass thick red juice.

"I-It's some of my tomato juice. I-It may not be the real thing but...d-drink this."

You didn't need to be told twice as you practically ripped the cup from Lilia's hands, gulping down the liquid. You didn't care what it was, in all honesty. All you cared about was getting something wet down your throat.

Whatever conversation Malleus and Lilia were having didn't register to you as you glugged down the drink. Luckily, it was enough to satiate a bit of your thirst, though you wouldn't get to feel the satisfaction of it as you finally succumbed to unconsciousness.

---

It was like you blinked.

Your eyes opened to a new room, one of grey bricks and green fire candles. A scent made you bolt up, and you sniffed the air, as if trying to find what that...delicious scent was.

"Ah, (y/n), you're awake!"

Your head snapped over to Malleus, who was staying beside the bed. He looked relieved to see you, but you...you didn't see him, not in the way a typical person would.

Your colorful vision turned a desaturated color as red, smokey whisps slowly spiraled from Malleus. Him. You were smelling him. That wonderful scent was coming from your boyfriend.

Unable to think your hand shot out at him, only for him to grasp your wrist and pin it to the pillow. You whipped your other hand out, him catching that as well and pinning it. You uncontrollably thrashed your legs, attempting to break free from his hold, but once he swung his own leg and straddled your hips, you were trapped. There was no way of escaping the strength of Malleus.

"(Y/N), you need to listen," he stated firmly, his voice calm but demanding, "but to listen, you need to calm down. Please."

His words slowly registered with you, and you did your best to relax despite your bared fangs.

"Lilia seemed to have transformed you...and we're unsure how it happened. However, along with supplies of tomato juice, I have decided to stay with you while you finish the transformation and offer you my own blood."

"It's...not done...?" You did your best to speak, but thankfully your thirst was more quenched due to the juice Lilia gave you before. It did still hurt to speak a bit, however.

"Apparently not. I believe he said your organs are still changing, and your mind is losing its humanity and temporarily reverting to a more primal state. You are dangerous while you're like this, hence one reason why I offered to watch you."

You understood what he was saying, you really did, but Great Seven, was his scent was so intoxicating.

"C-Can I...just one...just a bite..." You were practically drooling with the desire to taste him, the desire to sink your teeth into his pale skin and stain the area red.

"One bite," he answered with no hesitation, "but if I say that's enough, you stop."

You nodded eagerly, just excited that he allowed you this.

He released your wrists, trusting you not to act out, to which you laid there, patiently waiting, staring. Malleus removed the decorative piece from his neck, exposing the pale skin. You shot up, but he kept you back with one hand. There were no words from him, just a glare that he gave you that actually sent chills down your back. It was like your urges were nearly halted just by his body language alone. He appeared large, dominant, and--if there was one thought that managed to sneak through your clouded mind--attractive.

"You will be patient, understand?"

Great Seven...

You nodded, now resting yourself back on your forearms as he continued to fix up the area, removing his coat to work around shirt collar and moving it further to the side so the spot of his neck. Your fingernails, turned tallons, clawed at the bedding below you, your body aching to strike. Malleus moved his hair to the side, and, after gazing at you, he nodded, allowing permission to drink.

You didn't think. You rose up wiggling yourself from between his legs and grasping him, nails digging into his clothes as you sunk your fangs in. Malleus let out a pained gasp, his own body now shuddering. You both held tightly onto each other: you to keep Malleus close, and Malleus due to the pain he felt.

Though one thing was for certain, you both felt a sense of bliss.

Malleus wasn't sure why, but to have you on him like this, well...he would dare say this felt exhilarating. You would say his blood was divine now that you've gotten a taste of him.

The two of you fell back into the bed, you on top of Malleus with one of your legs precariously placed between the prince's legs. Scrunching up to feel even closer to him caused your leg to press up against his groin, earning you a soft moan and, strangely, a change in the taste of his blood.

Though you wouldn't get to pinpoint it as Malleus practically ripped you off of him, gazing up at you with blown eyes. You looked down at him with equally blown eyes, both of you panting softly from the event. One thing was for certain...

You both needed each other now.

You two fell into a heated kiss despite the blood on your lips. Malleus didn't seem to care as long as he had you on him. You tore at his belt as he grasped at yours, unhooking it and practically tearing the zipper off. He pushed both that and your boxers down, to which you stopped your actions to fully remove your bottoms. You were quick to return to your task, digging around to spring Malleus's cock from its fabric prison.

You didn't want to wait any longer, and frankly, neither did Malleus.

The two of you got in position, you straddling Malleus as he positioned his cock. You lowered the same time he started to move up, and insertion was made. Malleus was quick to begin thrusting while you lightly bounced your hips against him, arching your back as he hit all your deepest spots.

"M-Malleus~!"

Once he hit that special spot, you hunched back over with a gasp, planting a heated kiss on his lips before diving back in on the bite you had left. Luckily for you, Malleus didn't seem too fazed by this.

You finally got to taste that change. He tasted sweet, almost flower-like, though there was some bitterness to it, a fermented fruity bitterness. It was intoxicating, like a wine.

"(Y-Y/N)...~" Malleus breathed, tugging on your hair as his thrusts never ceased. "Th-That's enough."

The tugging of your hair sent shivers down your body, your head following his motion as you moaned by his ear, filling him with a rush of energy. He flipped the two of you over, pinning your wrists as he let all of his desires out. The sound of skin slapping skin mixed with both of your moans. A heat curled in your stomach, your legs trembling as you neared your climax.

"M-Malleus~! G-Gonna...I-I'm gonna--~!"

One final buried thrust was all you needed as he stuffed his cock deep in you, releasing his hot seed as you shot out hot streams between the two of you, dirtying your shirts. Your legs trembled visibly, jerking on occassion as you panted heavily.

Malleus carefully moved some hair from your face, his own body trembling as he let out his own, spent panting. His lips moved, but you couldn't make out any sound. You had expanded too much energy since the transformation, and doing so had caused you to pass out once more. Malleus watched as your eyes closed, chuckling softly as he cleared the blood from your lips with a thumb.

"Don't worry. I've got you, love."

#kaisers house of desires #x reader #x male reader #x male y/n #male reader #x male smut #twisted wonderland #malleus x y/n #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #malleus twst #twisted wonderland malleus #twst malleus

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mingtinysworld · 22 days

Text

Desire

Pairing; song mingi x f!reader x jeong Yunho

Genre: fluff, suggestive

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: Your boyfriends are performing on stage, when an unexpected scene comes up. You feel an unquenchable thirst for them, and are left up to their judgement. Will they give you what you desire?

Content/warnings: idol Mingi, idol Yunho, established relationship, pretty suggestive but no actual smut,

A/n: I freaking loved this request. I actually daydream of Yungi way more than I’d like to admit. And that part of wonderland?? Like yes please, just let me be squished in between. Anyways, hope you enjoy!! Like, comment and reblog😘😘 - J

A Request by @bethelighthalazia

“Stop hogging her!” Mingi whines with a pout on his lips.

You chuckle from your position on the couch, back cushioned against Yunho’s firm chest. You can feel a rumble go through him as he lets out a hearty laugh. He continues with his sloppy kisses across your neck, making mischievous eye contact with Mingi.

You let out a content sigh, relaxing your whole body, all the tension disappearing. You close your eyes and enjoy the feeling of his warm lips on you, nestling further into him. Mingi looks on with a childlike envy, wishing it was him who was holding you in his arms.

His pout finally pierces your heart and you motion for him to come closer. You pat the space in between your legs, and he happily scoots across the couch. He settles sideways with his head resting on your chest. He lets out a breath he was holding and can finally relax. You give an endearing chuckle, feeling the love and clinginess emanating from Mingi.

You run your hands through his soft hair, Yunho also doing the same to you. You stay like that for the next 10 minutes, basking in the enjoyable silence. The first sounds of someone talking slightly startles you since you were so gone into a hazy headspace.

“We have to leave in 5 minutes.” Yunho reminds Mingi.

Your heart sinks. You knew it had to happen eventually. You couldn’t stay cuddled up for eternity, even if you wished so. Mingi and Yunho had to leave for rehearsals and their first show of their brand new tour. You know how hard they’ve been working, staying up for so many days on end, and only eating when you bring them food yourself.

Mingi groans in complaint, not wanting to leave your warmth. You cup his face and give him a promising peck on the lips.

“I’ll be watching you perform and I’ll see you after baby. It’s only a couple hours.” You reassure him.

He pouts once again, looking at you with his chocolate brown eyes. “I knoww, I just hate being apart from you. I want to hold you all day.”

“Me too baby, but I know you can do it. I’ll be cheering you on from backstage.” You give him a tight hug, trying to convey all your love in the action. Yunho kisses the top of your head as he starts getting up. He pulls Mingi up, even though he went completely limp to try to pull Yunho down with him. Yunho succeeds in hoisting him up and they both look at you with very different eyes.

Yunho looks at you with loving and kind eyes, while Mingi shows you wide and glassy eyes. You fondly shake your head at your big pouty baby and pull them in for another tight hug. Your voice is muffled against them as you speak next.

“Good luck with everything, I know the show is gonna be so amazing, as always. I love you both.”

They say their goodbyes and go to the managers car waiting for them. As the car starts to drive off they open their windows and wave at you like two elementary school kids. You laugh at their cuteness and go back inside to start getting your day ready.

You get picked up by one of the staff at 6pm, so you have plenty of time ahead of you. First, you get food ready of course. Lots and lots of snacks for all the boys, as you know they get ravenous after performing so intensely. You also prepare the cartons of water and banana milk. Sometimes you feel like a mother, feeding your children. But you know you love it.

Your next step is your hair, makeup and outfit. You choose to be on the more casual side, since you you’ll only be backstage. You pick an emerald green sweater with black, ripped jeans. You know Yunho goes crazy for the green, so you feel cheeky in a way.

A few more hours go by and it’s finally time to leave. You get a text from the staff, and leave to get in the car. Your whole body is buzzing from excitement. The entire group has been insanely secretive about everything they’ve been preparing. You honestly have no idea what to expect, no clue what the set list even is.

As you go backstage, you can hear the muted sounds of the crowd. There’s a certain energy in the air, that can only be associated with Ateez. You heart swoops with a thrill every once in a while as the anticipation grows.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the show begins. The group goes on stage as the crowd roars. You watch on the big tv screen, all eight boys being illuminated by the bright lights. You cheer them on, sending all your love and good vibes to them telepathically.

As they go through the songs you can’t help but stare in awe. No one performs like them, they truly are one of a kind. Next up is Wonderland, which is one of your favorites. You dance along with them, having memorized it by watching them practice for so long. It comes to the bridge and dance break and you sit down to catch your breath to watch more attentively.

You wait for Wooyoung and Mingi’s part, but it never comes. Instead, there stands Yunho, in all his glory, clenching Mingi’s shirt with all his might. Their foreheads touch as they stare daggers into the other, the tension palpable. You hold your breath while they swing on their feet slowly. They look like they’re ready to devour each other right on stage, and you unconsciously clench your thighs together at the thought.

They finally let go of each other, and push one another in the opposite direction. You exhale a breath you weren’t aware of holding and slump down in a daze. The rest of the show goes by in a blur, your only train of thought focused on being in between your two boyfriends.

You only come to when you hear the deafening cheers. You abruptly stand up and clap robotically, having paid zero attention to the rest of the concert. You go out to the hallway connecting with the stage and see the boys filing in one by one, sweat and adrenaline dripping off of them.

Mingi and Yunho approach you, with a knowing look on their faces. You wait expectantly, for what exactly you’re not sure. Mingi speaks first.

“How did you like it babe?”

Your mouth opens yet nothing comes out. They laugh at your lack of speech and at the quick reddening of your cheeks.

Yunho cocks an eyebrow. “Did you see something you liked?”

Your heart thumps wildly and you feel slightly lightheaded. “I-I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” Your slight stutter and nervous laughter doesn’t go dismissed.

Yunho steps closer, bringing you in by your hip. He looks down at you, swiftly glancing at your parted lips. “I don’t know sweetheart, it seems like something has got you worked up.” He turns to Mingi. “Perhaps I’m imagining it?” Mingi catches on to the hint and plays along.

“Yunho I don’t think anything’s going on. The sweet girl is probably so tired from all this waiting, we should get her to bed.” This time, his pout is definitely a fake one. One you want to swipe away with your tongue, intruding his awaiting mouth. The way they talk about you as if you’re not there works you up even more.

You try to protest. “I’m not tired! Not at all.” They smirk knowingly, and look at one another.

“What do you think Mingi? Should we let her have us tonight?” His eyes glow with a sadistic glint.

Mingi smiles big and looks you straight in the eye. “I don’t think we should Yun.” At that you struggle out of Yunho’s hold. Trying to stand tall, you huff out in annoyance.

“You know I’m right here right? Stop being annoying and just kiss me already!”

They both raise eyebrows at your outburst. Yunho’s eyes darken while Mingi’s grow in hunger.

“I’m gonna have her first.” Yunho states.

Mingi growls slightly, pushing Yunho away from you.

“Like hell you are.”

#ateez #mingtinysworld #ateez fic #ateez scenarios #request #yunho fic #ateez mingi #yunho fluff #mingi fluff #yungi #ateez yungi #ateez fanfiction

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