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youcouldmakealife · 6 months

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LBTE: Jared (111-114)

New arc, and things get serious quick

If you want to read along, the series page is here. All previous parts under the 'liveblogging the end' tag.

111 - Change of Scenery

A new arc! One I believe I thought was the last. Spoiler alert: it was not.

And he knows that’s probably the most ungrateful attitude in the world, that every single hockey prospect in the entire province probably just felt a chill down their spine and went ‘someone isn’t appreciating the fact he’s in the fucking NHL’.

AND he’s defiled The Battle of Alberta.

“If you’re trying to make it harder to leave, it’s working,” Jared tells Bryce. Honesty is very important in a marriage.

“I don’t even want you to stay,” Bryce says, in possibly the worst acting job ever. The fact his arms tighten around Jared doesn’t help.

These two.

“Yeah,” Jared says, blows out a breath, gets one last kiss that doesn’t last long enough, then grabs his bags, Bryce hovering in the doorway when he walks down the hall like Jared’s going to trip and die on the way to the elevator, or maybe like —

“Quit looking at my ass,” Jared says without slowing.

“Training did you nice,” Bryce says in like, the sleaziest voice of all time, and Jared’s still laughing when the elevator doors close behind him.

THESE TWO.

“Okay, Halla,” Jared says, when it doesn’t abate as he heads to the front hall.

“Dinner,” Julius says when Jared opens the door.

“Hi, Julius, good to see you after months, I missed you too,” Jared says.

“Dinner,” Julius insists.

“Yeah, okay, I could eat,” Jared says, and Julius impatiently hovers while Jared puts his shoes on, grabs his wallet and his keys.

Jared's stray cat came back.

“Go be social with your team,” Jared says.

Bryce scoffs.

Still so far for Bryce to go! From this to slutty butterfly.

go b social go to bed ur so bossy, Bryce texts.

Bryce like ‘is he going to be even bossier now that we’re married? …that’s so hot’

112 - Stumbling Block

“I’ve been wondering if it’s too early to propose to my girlfriend,” Morris says.

Jared almost says ‘aren’t you a little young?’ before he realises that sounds patently ridiculous, considering Morris is at least a year older than him, and Jared’s currently wearing a wedding band.

20 years old, the AUDACITY of this boy. (Ben won’t propose for awhile, actually, but Vicki will, of course, say yes, and years down the line comes Liam’s godbaby/Luke’s fave niece Sadie)

“Just, you know, do it when it feels right?” Jared says uncomfortably. He’s not good at advice. Advice isn’t his thing. Does this ring mean he’s going to have to keep doing it? Not that he’ll take it off even if it does mean that, but it’ll suck.

Every single opportunity Jared has to mentor someone results in horrified backpedaling. Do not make this his responsibility.

“Got any pics from your wedding?” Johnson asks. He’s new to the team, picked up in free-agency, so Jared doesn’t know why he’d even care.

Jared: How dare he try to get to know me better upon meeting me, what the fuck is the matter with this guy?

“Not on my phone,” Jared says, and then Johnson, who apparently got married that summer himself, starts showing Jared picture after picture after picture of his own wedding, which is boring, but at least means he drops the subject. Jared’s pretty sure he just asked for an excuse to show all of his pictures, actually.

Trying to bond with a new teammate through a shared experience, what a fucking weirdo, right Jared?

His wife looks very pretty in her wedding gown, and Jared gets slugged hard in the arm for saying so, which he thinks is meant to be affectionate thanks? It hurts.

Jared sulkily rubbed his arm at least three times after that.

Rogers asked if he got married around Calgary, which is an easy question, and Morris asks why they haven’t ever met Jared’s spouse, which he can kind of side-step with a ‘it’s long-distance right now, they’ve got a job they love in Calgary’, and Jacobi asks him his wife’s name, which is — not one that’s easy to side-step. For a couple obvious reasons.

Jared shrugs. “It’s a secret,” he says, trying again to sound bored, probably failing.

Jared Matheson you made it a mystery. Never make it a mystery.

Jacobi waves a dismissive hand. “I’m just saying, the rookie’s fucking with y’all.”

Jared bites back an indignant ‘I’m not a rookie anymore’. It’s not worth it, and Julius will just roll his eyes again.

Jared living in fear of Julius’ disdain.

“Oh yeah?” Jacobi asks. “What’s his wife’s name?”

“It’s a secret,” Julius says without batting an eye, and Jared half wants to hug him, half wants to strangle him.

All hugs from me.

“Let the kid have some privacy if he wants it,” Rogers says, which Jared appreciates.

Whoooole lot of alarm bells ringing in Darryl’s head at this point — it ain’t his first rodeo.

He thinks Julius is smirking beside him, but he doesn’t check, because then he’d be obligated to elbow him.

TERRIFIED of Julius’ disdain. It doesn’t feel nice, does it Jared?

Jared takes back every single bad thing he’s thought or said about Darryl Rogers in his entire life. And it’s a long list, because he’s a good D-man and he’s been the enemy for like, a decade. All scratched. Good dude.

I cannot overstate how viscerally Jared has hated Rogers at points. Like, this guy’s been on the Enemy since Jared was a kid. He’s won games for the Oilers and made plays that lost the game for the Flames. And while he’s managed to let go of (most) of his Oilers angst, that one’s been around for a long time, and it’s one of the last things to go. But clean slate. Good dude. Rogers is a bro.

The Flames still apparently haven’t noticed Bryce is wearing a wedding ring. It’s hit pathetic level of obliviousness. Or maybe they have noticed, they just don’t care enough to ask Bryce about it.

Yeah it’s the second one, Jared.

Jared’s convinced Julius to actually start helping him in the kitchen, decided to tackle some of the more ambitious recipes provided by the team nutritionist, and sometimes the recipes fail and they suffer through it or order delivery, but sometimes him and Julius are sharing a silent, proud nod before shovelling greatness into their mouths.

The friend Jared deserves <3 The next generation of Mathesons will eat well.

The first indication there’s something officially rotten between Jared and Oilers management is, well — it’s not subtle.

Just a general all-round ugh for everything to do with Deslauriers.

His parents always warned him about the hazards of being a gay pro athlete, about the homophobia in the league, and it’s not that he didn’t believe them, he absolutely believed them, but he just — he doesn’t know. Figured he’d be the exception? Hoped, at least.

Again, he’d argue, but he’s an optimist at heart.

112 - Succor

Jared has to call Greg now, he guesses. His parents are probably both working, Bryce he needs to save for last, and Greg’s job is literally Jared. Among other players, obviously, but still. He should call Greg.

Greg doesn’t pick up, so Jared leaves him a message that it’s important and finishes his Gatorade, staring at the blank TV. He’s poured himself a glass of water — hydration’s important or whatever — is halfway through it when Greg calls him back.

Just including the end of this sequence, but the entire start of this part Jared’s gone so hard into repressing his anger he’s hit full on dissociation.

“Greg?” Jared asks. “You still there?”

“You know what this is, right?” Greg asks.

“Deslauriers being a fucking asshole?” Jared asks.

“Well,” Greg says. “Yes. But he’s targeting you professionally for your personal life.”

“I mean, I figured that out, yeah,” Jared says.

Greg, ten minutes into the call: WAIT, THIS IS HOMOPHOBIA. Jared: Yes please keep up.

Poor Greg, he’s so out of his depth.

“And Halla excepted, the ones who know are punishing you for it,” Greg says. “Jared, you don’t have to play for a front office that is personally targeting you. If you want — I can’t necessarily make anything happen, but if you want to request a trade, or I can contact the NHLPA and file a—”

I know this sounds like it’s stating the obvious (and it is), but Greg is just straight up having the realization now because he really didn’t think any of this would fall out the way it did, like, it’s the 21st century, who cares anymore, right?

(Dave knew.)

Greg sighs. “I know you do,” he says, like it isn’t news to him. It’s news to Jared, how much he wants to stay. “Keep me updated, okay? On anything. If he so even walks through a door you’re holding open without saying thank you, I want to know.”

This is a serious crime in Canada.

His dad calls him back within a minute. “On my way to one,” his dad says, with faint distance like he’s driving, using the hands-free. “What’s up, bud? Is Julius coming for dinner? Obviously he’s welcome, I just need to know so I know how much food to make, you guys pack it away.”

Julius is already so welcome in the Matheson household, which is going to serve him well in the future. Don accepted an Oilers player into his household before he was even dating his daughter! (Well. Two Oilers players. One was his son, so he didn't have much of a choice, even as an avid Battler of Alberta)

“Sorry,” Jared says.

“Don’t be sorry,” his dad says. “Deslauriers should be fucking sorry. If I got him in a room he’d be—”

Jared bites down a smile, what feels like his first real one of the day.

Don and Jared are so often at cross purposes in the narrative that it’s always nice when Don is 100% on Jared’s side.

“They can do whatever the fuck they want,” Jared snaps. “I’m not you, Bryce, if the Flames scratched you the entire city would be speculating about what the fuck got their star player scratched. They can do whatever they want to me, doesn’t matter if it makes sense, doesn’t matter if it’s just out of spite, and I can’t do shit, and they know it, and they’re making sure I know it. This is just—”

It’s a message. They can do whatever the fuck they want, they can make Jared sit out a game against his husband, they can make Jared sit out a game in front of his family, they can make Jared sit out a game in his hometown. They can do whatever the fuck they want, and they have.

Message received.

Jared has no interest in bullshit power games, it’s not a tongue he speaks, but he can read it fluently.

“I can’t believe you’re on his side right now,” Jared says.

“I’m on your side,” his mom says. “I’m always on your side. But I know you, Jared, as much as you like to think you’re unknowable, so I’m asking you, right now — when you’ve been meeting with Deslauriers, have you been rude?”

“Well, apparently polite’s rude now, so probably,” Jared says.

“Defensive,” she says. “Combative. Distant. Unwilling to listen.”

Not that Jared has no right to be, he obviously does, but — yeah, Susan has her finger on it. There has been a chill.

(Also 'as much as you like to think you're unknowable' is as absolutely savage as it is accurate)

“In any other industry your front office would be opening themselves up to a lawsuit with this, because this is textbook retaliatory practice. I’m furious for you. But Jared, you need to pay attention to how you come off. You’re not Bryce, you can’t antagonise your management.” Jared doesn’t know if she means that he’s not as good as Bryce, which is accurate, or that she’s implying Bryce has antagonised Flames management, which is — also accurate, but either way he’s pissed.

“Sorry,” Jared says. “I’m so terribly sorry my marriage has been mildly inconvenient for my management, of course they’re right to scratch me, because otherwise how else could I learn—”

“This is exactly what I’m talking about, Jared,” she interrupts. “You’re still young, and I don’t think you realise—”

Susan’s seen a lot of people’s attitudes sink them, and she doesn’t want it happening to Jared This… may not be the ideal time for her to state this. None of the Mathesons are good at holding their tongues when they’re upset. Susan’s typically the best of the bunch, but then, she's quite upset.

Julius has the same protest as everyone else, that he’s playing well, and Jared still appreciates it, maybe extra from Julius, who’s protesting like he’s annoyed his line is getting worse. Not that Greg, his dad, Bryce didn’t mean it about Jared’s play, not that they wouldn’t know what good play looks like either, not just in general, but good play for Jared in particular. But with Julius it’s less ‘why are they scratching you, then?’ and more ‘how dare they take my linemate away? You being scratched personally inconveniences me and I am not here for it’.

I love that Julius being upset for selfish reasons makes Jared happy.

“I could—” Julius says.

“Don’t,” Jared says, before he finishes whatever he was about to offer. Jared’s pretty sure the best thing for him, for this stupid fucking situation, is to grit his teeth and smile and bear it, that Julius protesting, or talking to Deslauriers, anything like that, would just set Deslauriers against him more.

Jared is correct.

114 - Rejection

The Oilers go to Calgary. And like, Jared’s not excluding himself in that. He’s on the flight, obviously, because scratched players travel with the team — the whole point of having more dudes on your roster than on the bench is so they’re there if someone gets hurt or sick last minute, or like, married a Flame and is subsequently getting punished for it.

All common occurrences.

It’s not a long walk to his apartment, and he feels this fundamental sense of relief as soon as he walks in the door, gives the concierge a smile and a wave as he heads for the elevator. Home.

Hi James! (Add him to the name twin pile with all the Mikes and Not-Mikes, Matthews (given and surname), and multiple unrelated Bradleys)

Jared barely hears Bryce’s key in the lock before Bryce is behind him in the kitchen, chin on his shoulder and hands curling around his hips. He must’ve like, sprinted it.

He didn't walk, I'll tell you that.

“If you want to eat you can’t distract me,” Jared says, and Bryce digs his chin in harder before he kisses Jared’s neck, making it very clear where lunch lies on his priority list.

“No lunch?” Jared asks.

There’s a hint of teeth in the next kiss.

Bryce has priorities. Lunch is not on the list.

“We are not having sex in the kitchen,” Jared mumbles against Bryce’s mouth as he fights Bryce’s shirt buttons, and Bryce makes a disagreeable noise in response, but starts steering them towards their room, so that’s good.

Jared has sacrificed his safety for shower sex, but he draws the line at health. No kitchen sex. They make food there. Okay, he makes food there.

Every time he thinks Bryce has reached the plateau of being the best at blow jobs, he figures out how to make it even better. It’s like. There’s probably a hockey metaphor in there, applying himself to his game, getting on the scoresheet, something, but Jared’s too come dumb to think of one.

I admire Bryce's dedication to be the best at all his passions: hockey, marriage, sucking dick.

Hmm,” Bryce says, and kisses Jared’s shoulder in a blatant violation of the no-touching policy. Jared will allow it.

Well that edict lasted ten seconds.

He cuts it close: less than a minute after curfew there’s a curt knock on the door. Jared exchanges a glance with Julius, a silent ‘who’s stuck getting up?’, but considering Jared’s probably the reason it’s happening — they periodically check in on at least the ELC guys to keep them honest, but Jared suspects this is not a random spot check — he gets up and goes to the door.

“Good kid,” Mulligan says, then turns on his heel and walks away.

Mulligan hates everything about this situation.

Mulligan didn’t even check if Julius was there. He could have been out partying.

lol, okay Jared.

Julius is bobbing his head to whatever Finnish death metal band he’s obsessed with at the moment — they all sound the same to Jared, and he bets they would even if they were singing — screaming? — in English — while peeling an orange with his teeth like a total weirdo.

I love him.

He shoots the nauseated face Julius’ way.

Julius looks down at his phone when it buzzes, then pushes his headphones down, scowling at Jared. “What?” he asks.

“Peel the orange with your hands,” Jared says.

He really should have expected the half-peeled orange that comes flying his way.

“Go back to your husband,” Julius mutters.

“Would if I could,” Jared says.

Brothers <3

Jared works very hard on keeping his face completely stoic when the goal goes in. It helps that Bryce just scored on Jared’s goalie, which tempers the flare of vicious satisfaction he feels, thinking of Deslauriers’ face right now. Jared doesn’t like it when people score on his goalies, and that includes his husband. It’s rude.

Poor etiquette to score on your husband's goalie.

They’re wheels up in nine hours. Less than ninety minutes until curfew, and maybe this was a bad idea, maybe he should have gone back to the hotel to stew instead of getting not enough of Bryce again, the time so short he’s just going to feel worse when he leaves, feel cheated. He would have seen even less of Bryce if he was playing, so it’s not the scratch, except it is, it’s the scratch, and the distance, and he puts his fucking ass on the line every single time he steps on the ice, worked so fucking hard to get there, and —

Jared’s so tired.

Oh Jared.

“They gave you first star, right?” Jared asks into Bryce’s chest.

“Yeah,” Bryce says.

“Good,” Jared says. “You deserved it.”

"Thanks,” Bryce says, then, “Sorry,” and Jared closes his eyes when he feels Bryce’s lips brush his hair.

Oh buds.

#liveblogging the end

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messygray · 2 years

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Somehow Attractive?

drunk on the thrill, Ahn “Arlen” Jaeun

The sound of boys tripping their way out of the rowdy third-rate club early in the morning is met with a cleared throat and crossed arms of disapprovement. Looking up from their stumbling steps, arms slung around one another’s shoulders in an attempt to keep themselves from falling, the bunch of them don’t quite know what they were expecting when they met the stern eyes of Maddox Kang.

Said boy in casual attire- nothing more than a flannel, some undershirt, and a pair of jeans. It’s too late- er, early in the morning, to be dressing up nice. Especially when picking up your friends from the damn club.

Nohea is the first to open his mouth, dressed in some equally casual ‘fit and eyes somewhat apologetic, as his muddled mind tries to find something to say- an excuse, an apology, anything to avoid the wrath that he knew Maddox kept somewhere locked within him. He comes up blank though, the world around the man spinning and- how many drinks did he take? Or perhaps his body was still buzzing from the other various activities.

Before Nohea could find it in himself to sober up and confront Maddox’s imposing form, Arlen speaks up- a little too loudly, instead. Taking the spotlight for himself, in all his dark, and generally broody glory. Not to mention he dressed to impress… clearly. (Maddox always thought Arlen was built with godly intentions in mind, but he was never going to admit that- not now, at least.)

“Well, if it isn’t the goody two shoes who thought he was too good to drink with us tonight.” The words slur towards the end and although Arlen had wanted to sound intimidating- Maddox certainly wasn’t fazed. “We had fun, you should have joined in instead of staying home like the loser you were being.”

“Yeah? And if I did get wasted with your ass, who would pick you up at the end of the night, huh? Who would take my place- walk in my shoes?” Maddox knows he’s being irrational and arguing with Arlen in the state that he was in- it was no use and nothing but a waste of time. But the young man couldn’t help it. Irritation clung to his chest, suffocating and tight. Ungrateful asshole.

“Stop being a boring voice of reason, will you? There’s a reason why people say living is dangerous. It keeps things interesting and less… dead. Ya know.”

Before Maddox could continue to argue with his best friend, the third in the trio stands up a little taller than the others and takes a slight stretch in his shoulders before closing the distance between himself and Maddox.

A hand comes to rest against broad shoulders and Harlow shakes his head gently. “There’s no use arguing with him. He’s definitely had more drinks than I can count tonight. So excuse his behavior, but thanks for picking us up.” Harlow gives the irate boy’s shoulder another gentle pat, “At the very least, I can say I appreciate it. And they will too… in the morning, after they’re hungover and shit.”

He’ll learn his lesson after that. Is what Harlow wants to say. He knows he’s already made too many excuses for their friend, though.

“Speak for yourself! This asshole didn’t wanna club with me!” Somewhere from behind, Arlen’s voice is indignant, but Harlow quells the waves crashing through Maddox. And the young man merely lets his shoulders sag in a sigh.

“Well, thank god you’re at least somewhat sober. I mean Nohea’s not that bad either, but I swear, if I had to pick up Arlen’s dumb ass up alone, we probably would have fought right this instant.”

“You love him, though. Drunk or sober, he’s still your best friend. And our friend too.”

And maybe Harlow was right.

But for the moment- Maddox Kang had never felt distaste for a person more.

Distaste.

And a little bit of shame maybe, for finding Arlen even the least bit attractive, nonetheless.

#harlow lim #lim hanbin #nohea bae #bae jaehyun #ahn jaeun #arlen ahn #maddox kang #kang jihyuk #summer waves

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its-me-im-coraline · 3 years

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Consequenses // Thomas Raggi

words // 1590

warnings // smut ahead hehe and not even a full smut, just a snippet honestly

pairing // Thomas Raggi x F!Reader

author's note // if you want to be on the tag list let me know. ok please let me know on the taglist link if you have asked me to tag you and i havent right now... I lost some of the user names so yeah im so sorry 🥺

request // yes

summary // Reader has been breaking Thomas’ rules by teasing him for days. Thomas eventually is fed up and shows Reader what happens when you disobey.

tag list: @bieberhoodforever @tabi-toast @ginny-lily @moriro-da-regina @the-killer-queenie @makapaka11 @bidet-and-legolas @atremendousstrawberrycollection @otaculo @selenophiliaxx

Music, throbbing lights and booze was the way Thomas and his partner decided to spend his weekend off. An average gathering made to feel like a party amongst the closest friends of the band and everyone’s partners. Of course the guitarist couldn’t resist bringing his lover along. He had not seen her in a while, traveling around and working on new music had made the relationship hard for the two of them, things only becoming harder when they started being unsatisfied with their more intimate relationship. The longing did not help much, instead it brought anger and anxiety, both resulting in ruining both of their moods.

The suggestion came from Y/N in the afternoon after Thomas took a break. They were sitting on the couch watching some tv show neither cared for, slowly trying to relax and potentially do more than sitting on the couch. The thought had occurred a few days ago, while the man was still not there, when his lover was maybe watching a bit of an erotic movie. “Maybe we should… switch,” was all she said. No explanation, no details, nothing.

Not much convincing was needed so here they were. Y/N being dominant was finding it a little hard to just sit there and listen. Thus the dom turned into a brat, choosing to tease the man during their first night together.

It was rather simple to get Thomas all riled up this fine night. They happened to have a small fight before the party (a disagreement over minimal things truly) so they were both in a very tense mood while at the party. Thomas was on the one side of the yard, talking with some of his friends, while Y/N was on the other, revealing clothing and lingerie (with certain movements it was visible to the man - and anyone else that paid attention, but not many did). The man was unable to take his eyes off his partner. See, she knew that the result would be pretty good.

“Keep this up and the result will not be very nice for you, amore,” he whispered in her ear when he finally approached her. His hand right above her ass, face too close for comfort.

“I am not sure I want to stop,” said Y/N, an evil smirk decorating her face. Her hips moved side to side, making sure the man could see. Back on her plotting she was.

At first things went smoothly: a bit of seductive dancing, a bit of drinking… The casual. But soon that would change as well. Ethan was sitting on a pool chair, joking about Y/N’s dancing, having a playful back and forth with each other until Y/N sat on his lap. It was nothing unusual for the two, it had happened plenty of times before, but both Thomas and her knew that this time was different.

By now Thomas is fuming. If he was in a cartoon his face would have gone comically red, smoke coming out his face in an exaggerated way. The cigarette and drink in his hand did little to help restrain him. For that, he downed the rest of his drink in an instant, smashing his cigarette on an ashtray and moving to his friends and partner. “Sorry to cut your fun short,” he smiled, trying to keep it together, “but me and Y/N need to go. Honestly, I’m feeling very tired,” he finished, taking Y/N’s hand in his and pulling her up and towards him.

Their friends did not say much, but rather voiced their goodbyes allowing the pair to leave the party.

Getting in the car was now the easy task, but one of them was dreading it. She knew that this would be so fun, but she was undeniably afraid of what could potentially happen that night. “What do you think you have been doing, dolcezza?” He all but growled, roughly turning her face towards his with his hand.

“Me? Nothing. I was just trying to have fun with my friends.” Oh, the innocent act. If Thomas wasn’t hot and bothered (more of the later) already, he certainly was now.

“I don't think so, baby. I think you have been very very naughty. I think you need a punishment.” His tone was playful but his eyes told a different story. Y/N was in for a long night, and they were still in the car. Thomas’ hands had already begun to travel all around his lover, faces dangerously close. And like that the vigorous kissing started.

“You shouldn't have acted like that tonight, amore,” he commented before he started driving back to their shared apartment. The ride was quiet but the tension and anticipation was loud as hell.

Patience was out the window the moment Y/N opened the door to their home. Thomas pushed her to the wall, attacking her neck with kisses. “I warned you enough times, my love, now it’s time for actions,” he commented, hand slowly traveling up to her neck, lightly squeezing, blocking the blood flow lightly making her lightheaded but so much more desperate for him. “Turn around and put your hands on the wall - just like that, good girl! Now, ass perked up.”

She was very well aware of what was about to happen and saying that she did not want it would be a lie. She was rather used to serving spankings to the man whenever he disrespected her - rather lenient - rules, taking such an adrenaline rush every time, but oh did she get a rush now, too. Thomas was getting more and more confident by the minute, Y/N getting rather aroused from it.

Thus she obeyed his demands, pushing her ass back, all there for him to do what he wanted. Thomas quickly got to work moving up her tiny little skirt to have her exposed to his will. Her ass looked amazing in that white lace thong she wore, making the man undeniably hard. “You know what you’re doing, don’t you? You planned for this to happen-” slap, “you knew I would not be able to hold back, didn’t you, puppy?” slap. “Answer me!”

“Yes, daddy,” Y/N responded very timidly, slightly flinching every time he struck her cheeks.

“Good, good. Now count for me, and you will thank me for each slap.”

“One. Thank you, daddy,” she began with his rhythm getting quicker and his force bigger by each slap of his palm. They reached around twenty five before Thomas decided on his next move. He said nothing but roughly turned Y/N around, pulling her towards their shared bedroom, lightly. After closing the door behind him - more out of habit than any actual practical reason- he pushed her to the bed, legs automatically falling open as he stared with lust in his eyes.

“Just sit there and do nothing,” he ordered, “no touching, or there will be consequences.” He did not go far after that, he only undressed and picked up the condoms and the lube, just making sure that she was entirely ready (not that he truly needed it at the moment - just a safety precaution) and knelt in front of his lover.

“Mhm,” he moaned, “you are looking delicious, but I’m not sure you can handle it. Maybe we should do this anoth-”

“No, no! Please, I can handle it! I can handle anything! Please, please!” she exclaimed, or more so whined, making Thomas smirk like a cheshire cat and proceeding with his actions.

“Anything, you say? Hm, we’ll see about that.” Oh boy was she about to regret those words.

His tongue started to tease her immediately as he finished his sentence. It was small short licks and little pecks on her clit, featherly but was agonizing in this case. The pace was slow, timid, really, all in an attempt to show his love in the most painful way possible. Her eyes were shut tightly, mouth hung open releasing heavenly (or rather sinful) noises - a pleasing confirmation of Thomas’ plan working perfectly. Y/N’s back was arched up as her head hung behind, chest bouncing in the attempt to gain more pleasure by Thomas.

“Thommy, please,” she whined, earning a slap on her thigh.

“You are being ungrateful, amore. I shouldn’t be giving you any pleasure at all. You’ll take what you can.” The lack of contact for the few seconds he spoke was enough to cause another fit of whines, but his breath on her heat made far worse ‘damage’.

He wasted no time moving up and away from his disheveled lover, moving to the dresser. Y/N simply sat there, mouth falling open, but this time due to confusion. It was clear that frustration had already started to pick up. Thomas on the other hand was enjoying the situation fully, finding it rather entertaining how he could make her melt so easily.

“Thommy. Come back,” she uttered in her usual dominating tone. Nothing. “Thomas, come back here-”

“What did you just say to me, puppy?” If he was pissed before, now he was livid, and it was clear as day. If this were some weird cartoon his eyes would’ve glowed red - a thought that did not help Y/N’s pleasurable fear. His hand had swiftly reached Y/N’s neck, not tightening up, yet making his stance threatening. “I think you have forgotten how things are going on around here, my love. You are not on the lead right now. I am. And you will pay for that.”

#maneskin imagine #maneskin fanfiction #maneskin #thomas raggi imagine #thomas raggi #thomas raggi smut #måneskin #måneskin headcanon #måneskin x reader #måneskin smut

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sundaysundaes · 3 years

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Make a Wish

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader | Smut, Fluff, Humor | NC-17 | College AU

Summary: It’s your birthday today and instead of giving you a box of gift, your boyfriend, Lee Donghyuck, decides to grant five of your wishes. You can’t help but feel a smirk creeping up your face. It’s time to get a little… creative.

This can be read as a stand alone but if you want to read it in order, you can start with Before Our Story Began and Jealousy.

You were having a dream. A really nice dream about your boyfriend, Lee Donghyuck, where for once in his twenty-years of living, he promised himself not to whine about anything ever again for the rest of his life. He was situated in difficult positions—got an F for the papers that he’d worked on for days, overcooked his eggs until they tasted like a pile of ashes in his mouth during breakfast, or lost a battle because Jaemin was too distracted with Jeno’s dick rubbing against his ass during the game. And even then, he did not form any complaint or whine with his head thrown back like how he usually would’ve done. It was a pleasant dream, seeing him all mature like that.

But then you woke up to the sound of that boyfriend of yours, screaming—literally screaming—directly to your ear, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BABY GIRL,” as if it wasn’t the middle of the night where he could wake up the whole dorm.

So now, you’re glowering at him with bleary eyes, wiping your drool away with the back of your hand. Haechan shows his phone screen, grinning when he sees you noticing with squinted eyes that it’s 00.00 am and the date written underneath it is your birthday.

“Thanks,” you flatly mutter, sinking your face back into the pillow and pulling the blanket over your head. “I’ll see you in the morning. Night, Haechannie.”

“Hey, hey, hey, hey!” Your boyfriend is loud, too loud. You understand that Jaemin is having a sleepover at Jeno’s place so Haechan has the entire room for himself but that does not give him the right to scream right next to your ear like this. Especially when you’re this sleepy with nothing but exhaustion pumping through your veins.

“Noona~” He shakes you by the shoulder, peeling the blanket off your body and succeeding, even when you’ve tried your best to keep it tangled around you. “Come on, it’s your birthday. We have to celebrate!”

“We’ll celebrate when the sun is out. Like normal people.”

“No way, come on! You can sleep some other time!”

“You can be annoying some other time.”

He huffs loudly, puffing out his cheeks. “If you don’t get up, I’ll do things to you.”

You sigh. You know what kind of things he’s referring to and as much as you love it, you’re really drained from the part-time job you did earlier today. It’s true that you haven’t had sex with him for more than a week or so and you kind of miss doing those sort of things with him but you’re just so tired that you ended up crashing face-first on his bed earlier this evening the second you arrived in his room. You hadn’t even kissed him properly yet.

“Okay, fine.” You sit up on his bed with your shirt—or rather, his shirt—all wrinkled, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. “What do you want us to do? If it’s sex, you have to wait because I’m dead tired right now.”

“I wanted to give you your present, actually.” But the way he juts out his bottom lip seems like sex was exactly what he had in mind.

“Okay, so where is it?” You ask, considering you don’t really see him carrying a box of gift with a red bow wrapped around it.

“Well, it’s kinda predictable for me to be giving you like an actual present, so I thought hey, maybe I can grant you a wish. Any kind of wish,” he emphasizes, raising that eyebrow of his in the way he knows you like it. “If you know what I mean.”

You ignore him completely, though the sight of his sexy smirk still leaves you unfocused for a good few seconds. “Only one? On my birthday? Do you even want to do this or are you just making an excuse for not buying me a present?”

��Yah!” He scrunches his nose, playfully jabbing a finger to your stomach. “I don’t see you granting me any wishes on my birthday!”

“You wanted to come inside me and I allowed you to do just that. Twice. Stop being so ungrateful.”

That wipes the playful angry look off his face almost instantly. “You’re right, fine,” he concedes, looking at you with a disinterested look in his eyes. “How many wishes do you want then?”

“I don’t know, like, fifty?”

“The hell? Do I look like Santa to you?”

“If you keep eating those samgyeopsal past midnight, your belly will.”

“Stop body-shaming me, you little—“ He suddenly leaps over, attacking you with tickles to the sides of your stomach until you fall back to the bed with his bare chest hovering over your body. You retaliate by moving your legs around, trying to kick him away but failing every time. You can barely hold back your laughter. He only stops when your face grows scarlet and your chest heaving up and down, slightly out of breath. “I’ll give you three wishes,” he offers, a bit breathless as well. “Only because you look so irresistible right now with those lips of yours.”

“Make it ten, then.” You play with his necklace, twisting it around your finger. Your other hand draws a line on his golden skin, starting from the column of his neck down to his chest. “And I’ll be even more irresistible.”

“Hmm, tempting.” His lips slowly breaking into a sultry smile. “But no. I’ll give you three and that’s final.”

“If you give me five,” you say, hooking a finger around his silver necklace this time so you can bring his face down to yours and whisper in his ear, “I’ll let you cum in my mouth later today.”

His entire face beams up almost like a kid on his first school trip. “You get yourself a deal, sister!”

You smile, caressing his cheek softly with your fingers. His gaze softens, leaning against your touch like how a kitten would. “Well then, here’s my first wish,” you speak softly as if you’re telling a secret. Your lips are just a few inches away from his, and he licks his lower lip in anticipation. “No doing sexual activities whatsoever with me on my birthday.”

That sensual, excited look he has on his face earlier? Gone, being immediately replaced by sheer horror. “What?!” He shrieks when his realization sinks in. “BUT YOU SAID YOU’D LET ME CUM IN YOUR MOUTH LATER TODAY!”

You grin at him, almost cackling out loud. “It’s not fun being on the other side of a prank, is it now, Haechannie?”

“You’re so—” But even the infamous Lee Haechan can be at loss for words. “Not even a kiss?”

“Not even a hug,” you clarify, pushing his body away with both hands so he ends up sitting on his heels, only in his boxer. “I’ll allow you to hold my hands but that’s it.”

“But why?” The way he whines the word ‘why’, loud and long, is just so him. “Hugging is like a totally normal thing to do! People hug all the time! Even kids do! It doesn’t have to be sexual.”

“It becomes sexual when you keep popping out a boner during one.”

“Screw you.”

“Not today, Haechannie. Not today.”

***

Haechan, no matter how bratty he can act from time-to-time, does keep his promise intact. He hasn’t touched you for like eight hours by now, even when you were taking a shower inside his room and ‘accidentally’ leaving the bathroom door open. You heard him groan, “Seriously? You’re doing this to me now? You’re torturing me, Nooonaaaaa~” once during your shower, but he didn’t act on his desire. You’re actually quite surprised. You know just how much this is driving him crazy.

“Let’s get some breakfast,” you say, already looking all dolled up in the red dress he once bought for you. You know how much he likes it, know how much his eyes ogle your body from top-to-toe, staring at the way the fabric hugs your body perfectly, emphasizing your every curve.

He glares at you menacingly. “You’re doing this on purpose.”

“Doing what?” You play dumb, though you're sure your grin betrays you. “Come on, I’m starving. I’ll let you hold my hand as we walk, just make sure don't get a hard-on in the meantime.”

“Have I told you I hate you today?”

“And I love you too, Haechannie.”

The cafe near the dormitory you usually visit to get your daily intake of calories is closed for the day. “Why are they closed?” You ask, adjoining your eyebrows together in confusion.

“Maybe the old man has diarrhea or something.” He shrugs, hands buried deep inside the pocket of his black ripped jeans. The way they tightly hug his legs, combined with those holes, is becoming very distracting for you. “I sure as hell, hope so.”

“Will you let it go already? It was an honest mistake.”

“How on earth is putting wasabi in my cream soup an honest mistake? He totally did that on purpose!”

“Yeah, well, knowing how you just straight-up told him he looked like a walrus, I’m not even surprised he spiked your soup.”

“Now that’s an honest mistake, in which I tried to be honest but came out as a mistake.”

“You didn’t have to tell him he looked like a walrus, though.”

“But he did!” He groaned, stomping his feet on the ground. “He totally did! Look me in the eyes and tell me he didn’t look like a walrus, come on, I dare you.”

You roll your eyes. He’s always one for the dramatic. “Should we go somewhere else? How hungry are you right now?”

“For your love?” He smirked, sending you a flirty wink. “Starving.”

You make an exaggerated gesture of you vomiting your insides. “If you’re not that hungry, wanna just go grab some crepes and take a walk in the park?”

“Sure, why not.” His shoulders are relaxed as he yawns unattractively, though it still counts as adorable in your book. “Let’s drop by to that bakery you told me before on the way home. I’m gonna buy you a birthday cake.”

That earns a surprised smile from you. “I didn’t think you’d be this thoughtful.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? I’m always thoughtful.”

“Is calling a middle-aged man a walrus a form of your thoughtfulness?”

He snorts, tilting his head to the side with his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “Since when did you get this sassy?” You’re about to put another retort when he suddenly kisses your cheek.

“Hey!” You abruptly step away from him, palming the side of your face. “What did I tell you about my wish again?”

He grins, eyes turning into a cute pair of crescents. “Honest mistake, babe.”

And you poke him in the abs until he drops to his knees, whining, “Whyyyyyyyy?” into the air.

There’s this park near your campus that has nice scenery—unexpectedly picturesque, even—with a huge fountain in the center of it. The green leaves of the camphor trees sway from the morning breeze, intoxicating you with a scent similar to how the pine trees smell after the rain. Children are running around, playing tags, with their parents sitting next to the fountain, busying themselves with their phones while occasionally mutters, “Be careful, don’t run too much!” from time-to-time because apparently, that’s what parents do these days.

Haechan exhales loudly as he takes a seat on the nearest bench, straightening his legs and patting a spot beside him. “Come here. I want to cuddle.”

“There are people around.”

“Since when cuddling becomes a crime?”

“It makes people uncomfortable.”

“You saying no makes me uncomfortable.”

You sigh. There’s no way of winning an argument with him. “Fine, but I’m not sitting on your lap,” you say, ignoring his pout as you take a seat next to him and hand him his chocolate-banana crepes. “Careful, you’re wearing a white shirt,” you warn, offering him his spoon. “It’ll be hard to take the stain off if—”

“I’m not a child,” he grumbles, taking the food roughly off your hand and grimacing when the chocolate syrup drips down to his shirt, staining the fabric. He blinks in surprise with his mouth wide open, before he looks back at you, only to receive a flat stare in return.

“I literally just told you that a second ago.”

Haechan shrugs. “It’s Jaemin’s shirt anyway, so I don’t care.”

With that, you bring your focus back to the food in your hand—a strawberry crepes with a scoop of vanilla ice cream—and takes a bite, almost moaning in delight when the sugary taste hits your tongue. “Man, why did I ever decide to go on a diet? This tastes so gooooood~”

Your smile and small giggle seem to be contagious because Haechan mirrors you almost in the same way though it has nothing to do with the dessert he’s holding. He observes, silently taking notes of the joyful expressions you display on your face while muttering, “How cute,” under his breath. Both of you take a moment to enjoy your so-called breakfast, sometimes taking a sip of your hot coffee to balance the sweet.

“You know,” Haechan says as he gnaws at his dessert again. “This isn’t really how I expected to go when I said I’d grant your wishes.”

“Yeah?” You decide to humor him, though you already know what he’s thinking. “Did you expect me to wish for something else?”

He nods, licking chocolate syrup off his spoon. “Something about you sitting on my face.”

You choke on a piece of strawberry you just plopped into your mouth, and you can feel it blocking your airways. “What are you—” Tears begin to form in the corner of your eyes, as you begin to cough fervently.

“What are you, a kid?” Haechan pulls your hair away from your face, patting your back. “There, there.”

“Why on earth would I ask about that?!” You shout when you can properly breathe again.

“I don’t know, I just thought that maybe you wanted me to eat you out.” The way he shrugs so nonchalantly as if he’s simply talking about finding a typo in the papers he just submitted leaves you dumbfounded. “I mean, I kept teasing you about it during sex but never really did it since you were always too stubborn to beg.”

“And do you realize now how annoying you are in bed?”

“That’s not my intention, though!” He genuinely seems a bit guilty. “You just look so cute trying to hold back when it’s obvious you want my tongue inside you—”

“We’re in public, Jesus Christ—”

“It’s your pride that we have a problem with. Why can’t you just for once say, with teary eyes, ‘Haechannie, please, fuck me with your tongue’—”

“People can hear—stop it!” You try to clamp your palm around his mouth, but he dodges it perfectly and places a playful kiss on the back of your hand instead. “And are you seriously begging me to beg you for it? I don’t think that’s how it works, Hyuck.”

“It’s because I actually really want to eat you out,” he groans, sighing into the air, “But I also want to see that cute embarrassed look on your face—do you see how big of a problem this is for me?” His whine falls short when he notices the look on your face. “Wait, are you blushing?”

“I’m not!” But you know you are, you’ve never been so ashamed before. How can you not? Your boyfriend is now a) talking about eating you out, loudly, in public, b) there’s this one passerby, a middle-aged woman who dresses in way too many layers for a day as hot as this, looking at you with the most disgusted look you’ve ever seen displayed on a person’s face, and c) Haechan is still talking about it. “Shut up and just get away from me!”

“Noona, your face is so red!” He’s giggling to himself now, his crepes dribbling more chocolate syrup onto his shirt from how much he’s moving. “Did I get you excited? Does this mean you’re gonna—”

“Next wish! I’ve already thought about my next wish!” You quickly avert his attention, desperately pushing his face with one hand so he’ll stop making kissy faces at you. “I want you to perform a song.”

“What, here?”

“Yeah, you don’t have a problem singing in front of people, right?”

“Of course not,” he snorts loudly. “I have an amazing voice. You know, people should really be paying me to hear me sing, actually.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, though deep down in your heart, you kind of admit that he really does have an amazing voice. His vocal is unique and distinct, easily noticeable even if there are a hundred vocalists in the room. And the way he does his adlibs whenever he sings his favorite tunes actually makes the song sounds a thousand times better. There’s no way you’re going to tell that to his face, though. His ego is already big enough without you feeding him compliments.

“Well then, you’re in luck.” You grin mischievously, nodding your head toward a band that’s been playing acoustic songs near the fountain for quite some time. There are three people playing instruments, with one of them being the vocalist and you comment inwardly in your head that Haechan sounds so much better than him—but maybe you’re just biased. The band is promoting their demo album, trying to get people’s attention to recognize their self-composed songs and buy their album if they fit their taste. No crowds are gathering in front of them, and you feel kind of sorry because they actually sound pretty good. “If you follow my wish and do it right, you could probably get some tips along the way.”

“You want me to sing with the band? I don’t think they’ll allow me though.”

“They will. I’ll buy their album in exchange.”

Haechan doesn’t seem eager at the slightest. “Must we waste our money away?”

“What, are you scared?” You taunt, raising one of your eyebrows challengingly because you know how much he hates to lose. And it works as expected, because Haechan is now standing up, throwing the rest of his crepes away to the nearest trash bin, and cracks his knuckles.

“Lee Haechan never runs away from a challenge.” He has this annoying cocky grin displayed on his face. “Tell me what song you want me to sing.”

“Your favorite. Man in The Mirror.”

“Dude, I nailed that song. Is this even a challenge?” He clicks his tongue, cocking his head. “So easy.”

He already has taken a few steps away, heading toward the band, when you stop him dead on his tracks by saying, “I know you nailed it. That’s why we have to keep it interesting so here’s my wish: I want you to sing out of tune.”

Even if you said that he was turning on his heels at the speed of light, it wouldn’t be too much of an exaggeration. “NO FUCKING WAY.”

“Ah, but sadly,” you fake a pout, mocking him, “You promised you’d grant my wish.”

“But that’s just stupid! Why would I do something like that? Why would anyone do something like that?” He shakes his head furiously. “And doing this to my favorite singer?! Hell no!”

“Haechannie.”

“No.”

“Haechannie.”

“NO.”

You sigh, walking closer to him and pull him down by the hand to close the gap between your heights and murmur in his ear. “If you do that,” you breathe out, trying your best to sound as sexy as you can, “I might consider buying that customized dildo you want this weekend.”

Haechan has his jaw hanging low on his face, looking at you with his wide eyes shaking in disbelief. “Oh my God,” he whines, placing both hands on your shoulders before rocking you back and forth. “Noonaaaaa~ This is soooo not fair. You can’t do this to me!”

You chuckle at how childish he is. “So, how is it going to be, Lee Donghyuck-sshi?”

He contemplates hard about it—really hard, probably the hardest thinking he ever did in his entire life—nibbling on his lower lip as he does it. After a moment has passed, he finally ends it with his signature pout. “But you promise, right? No pranking me this time?”

“I promise,” you say with a firm nod but you have your fingers crossed behind your back.

“Fine,” he says as if it was the heaviest decision he has ever made. “Then, I’ll sing… off-key—eww!” He sticks out his tongue, clutching his arms around his stomach. “I’m about to throw up my crepes just by thinking about it.”

“Good luck.” You pat his shoulder. “Oh, and make sure you sing the first part like you always do, so people will notice and start listening to how amazing your voice is. And when they’re so into it, as you get to the second chorus, that’s when you start singing off-key.”

Haechan’s eyes are lifeless when they bore into you. “Isn’t it time for you to go back to hell, Satan?”

“Remember, Haechannie,” you press a finger to your lips, winking at him. “Customized. Dildo.”

“I hate you.”

“And I love you too.”

So both of you get into the business. After the band performed an acoustic version of their titled song, you approach them with a smile, offering your hand to the vocalist. You tell them how talented they are, making sure to bedazzle them with compliments and your charming attitudes so things can go as planned. It’s actually not that hard trying to convince them to accompany your boyfriend sing, especially when you say you’re going to buy two of their demo albums.

“What song do you want to sing, dude?” The vocalist, a friendly man most likely in his twenties with a goatee on his face, asks Haechan while offering a fist bump. Your boyfriend grimaces, bumping his fist against him like it’s the most disgusting thing he’s ever done.

“Something wrong?” The man asks. “You look kinda pale, man.”

“He just ate something bad during breakfast earlier,” you come to answer him instead, rubbing Haechan’s back soothingly. “But he’s fine now. Can you guys play Man in The Mirror?”

“Michael Jackson, right? Sure thing.”

You elbow your boyfriend playfully on the side of his stomach. “Sure thing, he said.”

“I want to die.”

“Aaw, poor baby,” you pucker your lips, having the best time of your life making fun of him. “Now off you go, I’ll be right here.” And you bring your iPhone in the air, camera-ready with a tap of your thumb. Haechan has his eyes on the standing microphone, looking at it like it’s the most horrifying thing he’s ever witnessed in his life.

Haechan just barely takes a step forward before he runs back to your spot again, all jumpy and twitchy. “I can’t—I can’t do this—this is so embarrassing—”

“On three, okay, man?” The vocalist takes a seat on one of the little stools they have placed next to the amplifiers with his Fender guitar placed firmly on his lap. And before Haechan can give him a nod or any sign in return, he begins counting and the entire band plays the song. There’s no way out of this now.

Haechan finally walks toward the mic with his soul most likely leaving his body with every step he takes.

You give him a cheer as loud as you can—not to support him, but so you can gather people’s attention. Haechan shushes you down in panic before he finally takes the mic, constantly throwing ice daggers at you with his eyes. You begin to chant his name—“Lee Donghyuck! Lee Donghyuck!”—and with every shout of it, Haechan dies a little bit more.

Haechan falls two beats behind before he finally sings into the microphone, his voice resonating through the air. He does sound amazing, albeit a little nervous and that’s probably just because he’s doing the dare. He usually sounds confident, his voice sounding strong and clear not caring if the room is empty or filled with people so this anxious version of him really makes you think that maybe you’ve forced him a little bit too far.

He completes the first part of the song rather easily and the entire band behind him nod their heads along to the music, amazement sparkling in their eyes. You can see the vocalist quietly mouths, “Damn, he’s good,” to the member sitting beside him who shortly agrees wholeheartedly. You can’t help but smile at that, looking like a proud mom.

People, one-by-one, begin to gather around you, whispering to one another, asking, “Who is he? What band is this?” or simply praising his vocal and your smile grows wider. It vanishes almost instantly, though, the second you hear some girls chattering behind your back, talking about how attractive Haechan looks—especially in that leather jacket and those dark combat boots he’s wearing. You never pegged yourself to be a jealous, overprotective girlfriend before but with Haechan, perhaps you’re beginning to turn exactly into that.

Haechan, who seems pretty pleased with how he sang the first part, suddenly begins to fidget on his feet. The more he gets closer to the second chorus, the paler he becomes and he has his eyes tightly shut when he’s finally there, singing the first two lines in the right way before forcing himself to sing off-key.

You blurt out laughing but immediately clasp a hand over your mouth. Haechan looks like he’s in pain, and the rest of the band has their eyebrows furrowed in question, looking back and forth at each other, probably asking, what the hell is wrong with this dude, he was doing so good before. The audience begins to look at one another, eyebrows knitting in concern. New visitors stop in their tracks, looking at your boyfriend with judging looks on their faces. Even the parents that were so busy with their phones before begin to lift their heads from the screen, trying to know who is this terrible singer and why is he wailing like this.

Haechan sounds so awful and you can only imagine how much this is killing him from the inside. He barely gets to the end of the second chorus before he turns to face the band, bowing his head and shouting, “I’m so sorry!” before he scrambles on his feet, running toward you.

“Wait, Hyuck, you haven’t finished—” Your protest ends in laughter when Haechan rashly hooks an arm around your shoulder, breaking through the crowd and forcing you to match his steps so you can leave the park for good.

He’s never stepping into this place ever again, you’re sure of it.

***

On the way back to the dorm, you stop by the bakery you’ve been wanting to visit and Haechan buys you a birthday cake as promised but with a permanent pout displayed on his place.

“A cake for your girlfriend?” The cashier lady asks with a friendly smile.

Haechan simply pouts harder, muttering, “Yes, my super annoying girlfriend.” And you pop out from behind his back, raising a hand in the air as you beam at her with a cheeky grin, “Yep, that’s me!”

Haechan walks next to you on the sidewalk as if he just did the longest marathon he ever did in his life—all drained out and slow on his steps. His shoulders are hunched forward, his eyes droopy and every time you take a peek and share a glance at him, he’ll start fuming again—like an angry child, upset for being left alone in his grandma’s house while the whole family went on a trip.

“Okay, knowing how fast you’re walking right now,” you mutter sarcastically, looking at the nonexistent watch you wear around your wrist for dramatic effects, “We’ll be back in our dorm at approximately eighty-four years from now.”

“Whatever. I’m still angry at you.”

“But we just started! I thought you wanted to make me happy.” You try to look as sad as possible, batting your eyelashes at him. “It’s my birthday, you know.”

“I wasn’t aware that making you happy equals giving me emotional distress.” After two seconds passed by in silence, he adds, “And physical pain.”

You smile at the attitude he’s giving, wondering just how cute can this man be by the end of the day. Maybe you should keep torturing him a little.

Just a little bit more.

“Haechannie,” you roll his name off your tongue in a playful manner, wrapping both arms around his right one. “I’m ready for my next wish.”

“Didn’t you listen to any word I just said?”

“See that old lady over there?”

“Yeah, you clearly didn’t.” Haechan follows your gaze with a heavy sigh, not quite pleased with how easily you ignore his complaints, and he sees a grey-haired woman, old enough to be his grandmother, sitting alone on a bench with a book on her hands and her glasses hanging dangerously low on the bridge of her nose. Her cane lays still on her side, and by the look of it, she appears to be waiting for someone.

“Oh come on, leave her alone,” Haechan says, already looking sorry for her even when you haven’t said anything yet. “She’s so old and she looks so frail. I am not going to do your stupid dare at the cost of her life.”

You roll your eyes.“Relax, I won’t ask something that stupid.”

“Oh, because your first wish was just so brilliant, I suppose?”

“I’m serious, I’m not that mean.” Not to her, at least. “I just want you to sit next to her on the bench and act like it’s the worst day of your life.”

“I won’t be calling that acting,” he grumbles. “I am having the worst day of my life.”

“What? I thought we’re having fun!” You try so hard to look sympathetic enough for him but it’s almost an impossible deed to do when you’re seconds away from laughing.

“You’re having fun.” He squints his eyes menacingly. “I’m having a fucking seizure.”

“You’re fine, don’t be too dramatic.” You card your fingers through his hair, pushing back the bangs from his eyes to showcase his temple exactly the way you like it. “Well, I want you to act sad—like, really sad, bawling your eyes out and everything—and when she asks you why, explain that you just found out you’re adopted.” You press something against his palm. “Here.”

Haechan has his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he takes a look at it. “What’s this?”

“A postcard with a picture of your parents. I just bought it at the minimart before when you were in the bakery.”

“But…” He stares in horror. “They’re Americans.”

“Exactly.” You know there’s a shit-eating grin blooming on your face but you cannot wipe it off. “You can walk away after she tries to comfort you or give you some advice or something.”

Haechan keeps scowling at you as if he wanted to eat you alive, but you charm him with your brightest smile until he sighs and tucks the postcard in the back pocket of his jeans. “You know I’ll pay you back for this later, right?”

“Wha—I thought you said you’ll grant me any wishes for free!”

“MAN, IF I COULD JUST TURN BACK TIME—“ He yanks out his hair, making you a bit worried because you love his soft, adorable brown locks and he’s been tugging at them for quite some time today. “Okay, fine, I’ll do it. I no longer have any shame left in my body anyway. Or soul, for that matter.” He turns on his heels, straightening his jacket as if that could give him more courage. “You better not blink your eyes.”

“It’s okay even if I do.” You bring out your phone, waving it in the air. “’Cause I’m recording it. This will go viral on Youtube.”

“I hate you.”

“And I love you too, Haechannie.”

It takes a good ten minutes for Haechan to prepare himself for the stupid dare he’s about to do, even though he previously claimed he had no shame whatsoever. He paces back-and-forth at the sidewalk, stomping his feet once or twice restlessly, and mutters quietly to himself, “Man up. Man up, you idiot. It’s just a stupid dare.” You desperately want to have a miniature size of this Haechan and keeps him inside your pocket so you can watch him being nervously cute all day long with his cheeks puffed in anger.

“Okay, I’m going.” And he finally steps forward, braver this time, and sits down on the other end of the bench, twiddling his fingers in anxiety. You bite your lip to contain your laughter and press record.

Almost fifteen seconds have passed by and there’s no reaction, not even a glance, coming from the old lady. You can see Haechan nibbling persistently on his lip, his feet tapping worriedly on the ground before he finally lets out the loudest, heaviest sigh in the history of mankind. It’s so loud that it makes the old lady jumps on her seat, her hands going to her chest, her book left abandoned on her lap. Haechan also looks surprised knowing that she’s surprised and everything just looks so hilarious that your camera begins to shake from how hard you try not to laugh.

“I-is there something wrong, my dear?” The old lady asks, shifting her body a little on her seat so she can face him properly.

Haechan takes a deep breath and begins his act by burying his face in his hands, faking a sob. “I’m sorry, I can’t help it. I just—” He sniffles loudly, trying to make it obvious to her that he’s in agony. “It’s the worst day of my life.”

And it’s cheesy, how he acts, but she seems to buy it—or maybe she’s just too kind. “May I ask what happened? I’m not sure I can help but…” She lands her shaky hand on his back, caressing him soothingly. “It’s always better to pour your feelings out instead of bottling them inside.”

She sounds so genuinely compassionate, unlike the maniacal laughter that currently tumbles down your lips.

Haechan lifts his head, turning towards her. His eyes begin to droop, making him look like a kicked puppy. “I just found out…” He sniffs for dramatic effects. “That… That I’m adopted!” And he loudly whimpers into his hands again.

The old lady gasps, covering her parted lips with her thin fingers. “Oh my… Did your parents tell you that?”

“No, it’s even worse. I found out on my own when they were talking in their room.” Haechan rummages his back pocket, handing her the postcard. “Here, look. It’s a picture of my parents.”

The lady takes the postcard with a pair of heartbroken eyes but they soon begin to change when she notices that the two people in the picture are straight-up Americans, while Haechan, needless to say at this point, looks like the most common—though far more handsome—Korean boy you can encounter on daily basis.

“I know,” Haechan says, wiping a nonexistent tear out of his eyes and fakes another sob. “Surprising, isn’t it? I mean, we look so much alike, there’s no way I would’ve guessed I was adopted if I didn’t hear them talking about it behind my back.”

The old lady is still pretty much dumbstruck with how bizarrely stupid everything is, but she’s too kind to call him out on it. She hands the postcard back to him, looking much less sorry this time, and takes a moment of silence. Haechan cries against his palms again, and you wonder if he’s only faking it or being real about it this time because the entire situation is just painfully awkward.

“You see, my dear,” she begins, voice gentle and reassuring but the sincerity isn’t really the same as before. “Sometimes it really can feel like the world is ending, and I know that this must be hard for you,” she stops to knit her eyebrows, “no matter how obvious this should’ve appeared to you. But maybe it’s not about having a picture-perfect family, but about finding beautiful moments.”

“You’re right,” Haechan hurriedly agrees, his eyes twinkling in delight knowing that this excruciating dare is about to end. “I’m happy with them being my family, even if they’re not, you know, really my parents.”

She smiles but it kind of looks like a grimace, and she says her next words with a gentle pat on his back. “But shouldn’t you have noticed about it sooner, though, dear? You look nothing like them.”

And Haechan winces, not sure how to react. “I could be, uhh…” He licks his lips nervously. “Quite dumb, sometimes.”

“Yes,” she nods, still patting his back. “You certainly can.”

A tall man, at least ten years older than Haechan, approaches their spot with a paper bag in his arms. “Mom, are you ready to—” he stops to take a look at your boyfriend, trying to understand the situation of why is his mother sitting way too close to a guy dressed flirtatiously in a leather jacket and boots with her hand caressing his back. “What are you guys doing?”

“Oh, it’s okay. I’m adopted,” Haechan says, handing him the same stupid picture. “She’s just consoling me about it.”

He takes a look and sends him his biggest judging look. “Dude, what are you, stupid?”

***

Haechan is still fuming all the way back to his dorm and no matter how much you apologize about it, he still doesn’t want to talk to you. He throws himself on his bed with his shoes still on the second he enters his room. You’re still smiling quietly to yourself, can barely handle all the cuteness he’s emitting.

“Haechannie,” you gently call, sitting on the edge of his bed. “Are you still upset?”

No answer.

“Look, I said, I’m sorry. Talk to me, please?”

Haechan has his face pressed flat against his comforter and you secretly wonder whether he can even breathe in that position. A few seconds passed by in silence before Haechan finally mumbles, “Did it make you happy?”

“What, you doing my stupid dares?” You can already feel another laughter bubbling up your throat but you have to contain it. You can’t hurt him more than this. “Yes and I know I’ve been mean to you and I’m sorry for that, but you were so cute.” You run a hand along his spine before you carefully caress his hair as a mother would do to a child. “Please don’t be mad.”

He eventually sits up, crossing his legs on the bed, sniffling a little bit while still avoiding eye contact. “Well, I guess, as long as you’re happy.”

“Are you crying?”

“No,” he states, practically puffing out his cheeks by now. “I’m just so embarrassed with all of this. Why are you being so mean to me?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, come here.” You motion him to come closer, and you know it’s breaking the rules of your first wish but you don’t care. This giant teddy bear desperately needs a hug.

Haechan immediately sighs when you stand with your knees pressed on the bed, wrapping both arms around his head. He sinks his face to the crook of your neck, lowly murmuring, “I hate you,” with his breath fanning your skin.

“You’ve been saying that a lot.”

“Yeah, because you’re mean.”

“But I love you even more today,” you softly reply, pulling away a little so you can trace your fingers along the smoothness of his cheek. “You’re so adorable, Hyuck, do you know that?”

“Is singing out of tune and harassing old lady your kink or something?”

“That’s not it.” You pinch the bridge of his nose, making him yelp a little. “It’s just the way you forced yourself to do these things—these things you hate the most—for me and asking me whether they made me happy or not, while still being all grumpy about it. You’re just so cute and I love you for that.”

The sun is setting outside his window, illuminating his face with such a warm, beautiful glow that somehow makes him appear a bit more melancholic and angelic at the same time. He finally drags his eyes back on yours, with his bottom lip still jutting out slightly. He says the next four words so quietly under his breath that you can barely hear them. “What?”

“I said, I love you too,” he repeats in a rush, before he sinks his face in the slope of your neck again, whining all the way. “Don’t make me say it like this, it’s weird.”

And you notice that this is actually the first time he truly confesses his love for you. He’s joked about it a lot, toying with your feelings at least ten times within a day, casually throwing the word love as if it meant nothing more than mere decoration for his flirtatious lines. But now that he’s saying it in all the seriousness he can muster, he can barely look you in the eyes, can barely say it without whispering, and it’s cute how the usually confident Lee Haechan, crumbles into nothing but a shy little boy facing his feelings for the first time.

“Ah seriously,” he murmurs against your hair. “What are you doing to me? I’m not usually like this.”

You can’t help but tease him. “Yes, you’re usually more satanic.”

“Yah—”

And you stop him with a soft kiss to his lips. You can feel him taking a sharp breath, his arms stiffening as they circle your waist. You’re about to kiss him again when you feel him tensing against your body. Noticing how he looks a bit baffled, you carefully tug yourself away. “What is it?”

“I thought you said we couldn’t kiss today,” he tells in such a small voice.

“I said no sexual activities,” you retort with a sly smirk, making a poor excuse because you really miss kissing him. “This isn’t sexual,” you say, pressing your lips against his again but stop before he can return it. “This is romantic.”

He’s so distracted with your lips that he can barely take his eyes off them even when he talks. “You’re teasing me again, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.” You can’t help but grin but it does not stay long when Haechan suddenly hooks his arm around your hip and pulls you closer until you’re forced to climb into his lap, wrapping your legs around his waist for balance.

“Haechan—” Your protest is swallowed by his kiss, his lips chasing after yours almost frantically. You can tell how much he misses you from the way his lips move against yours, or from the way he moans softly at the back of his throat as he settles his hand on the side of your face. His other hand holds you tighter by the waist, his fingers fisting the fabric of your dress. He angles your head to the side, kissing you with parted lips and swiping his tongue along your lower one so you’ll gain him entrance.

“Noona,” he whispers between quick breaths, sounding almost needy. “Noona, I need—”

“Okay, stop.” You place your arms on his shoulders, expanding the space between you. You can’t believe you almost got carried away. “Now this is getting sexual. Let’s head over to my next wish.”

“Wait—but I’m—” He stares at you bewilderedly, not believing the fact that you just casually drag your body away from his lap, smoothen down your hair as if nothing just happened. “Are you serious? You’re playing with me again? When I’m like this?”

“Sorry.” You peck him on the cheek, hiding your grin. “So, for my next wish—”

“Yah! Listen to what I’m saying—”

“I want you to—”

“Noonaaaaaaaa~”

“—sing me a lullaby.” His whining stops abruptly at your words and you quickly explain further before he does it again, “I’m sleepy so I’m gonna take a nap. Your job is to sing me a lullaby until I fall asleep. Easy, right?”

“You really just do whatever you want, don’t you?”

“Only for today. You, on the other hand, do that every day.”

“Fair enough. Do I get to choose the song?”

“Sure.” Knocking your high heels off your feet, you lie down on his bed with a thump, contentedly basking in his scent because his pillows, the duvet underneath you, the soft sheet below your fingertips—everything smells pleasantly like him. Haechan takes off his shoes and his leather jacket—which almost earns a loud protest from you because he looks so good with that jacket on—throwing them somewhere near the bed without care and he lies down by your side, facing you.

You turn your body to face him as well. “Hey, handsome.” You smile sheepishly at him.

He seems a bit caught off guard by it, but smiles back. “Hi.”

“Can we cuddle?”

He laughs softly at that. “Come here.” He gathers your entire figure easily in his arms and you sink your nose to his chest, humming in pleasure. “Stop being so cute, you’re torturing me.” You only giggle in response.

Haechan begins to sing, slowly at first as if he suddenly feels pressured with the way the room is so deep in silence, leaving no excuse for him to make in case he fails. You notice that, so you sneak both of your arms around his waist, snuggling even closer. “Don’t be nervous, it’s only me.”

“I’m not. Why would I be?” He masks his slightly shaky voice with a chuckle. “It’s just that your hair keeps getting into my mouth whenever I try to sing.”

“Of course.” And you keep your lips tightly shut, giving him the time he needs.

Haechan takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. “Had a perfect picture in my head, with you in the most beautiful dress,” he sings, beautiful notes flowing down from his lips, making you feel like everything around you becomes a blur and there’s only him with his velvety voice and his soft, warm breathing. “I look happy as ever, how did I let you go again.”

He gains confidence with more seconds passing by and you can feel his arms growing slack around your waist, no longer as tense. “Now I'm standing alone in the rain, like the kinda movie that we used to hate. Wish I could take back the time, but I know this time it's real.”

You’re not sure whether it’s because of the lyrics or the way he sings, but as beautiful as his honeyed voice sounds, you can’t help but feel a tinge of sadness growing inside you. It’s as if he’s not singing the song, he’s living through it. And you wonder maybe he’s had his heart broken by someone before—or maybe he’s just so good at putting emotions to his song, you’re still not sure yet.

“Hate that I'm singing this song. Hate that I have to be strong.” Haechan absentmindedly runs his fingers up and down your spine, before he tangles them around the strands of your hair, gently stroking them. “Hate that you're gone. I hate all my flaws. Hate that you love someone else. Hate everything. Just hate everything right now.”

It’s so genuine and soft the way he serenades you, baring his soul and you’re not even looking at his eyes as he sings it. By the end of it, you can’t help but ask him a question. “Will you be singing that song if you ever break up with me?”

He curls up closer, burying the tip of his nose in your hair. “No,” he says but continues before your disappointment can sink in, “If we ever break up, I won’t be doing anything besides getting you back. I don’t like to lose, you know how I am. And I definitely don’t want to lose something—or rather, someone—this important to me.”

“Stop flirting with me,” you chime in, pulling away a little so you can take a look at his face. “You already have me wrapped around your fingers.”

But Haechan doesn’t smile or act cocky about it. He just takes his time analyzing your face, taking in your features as he trails his fingers down from your hair, to your cheek, and finally stopping at the curve of your lips. “I was so worried before though when you met your ex behind my back. It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s just…” He loses his words when you begin to kiss his fingertips, his eyes becoming unfocused. “I don’t know, I just got anxious about it. I’ve never had someone like you before so…”

It really just sinks in that he wasn’t merely angry because you were seeing your ex-boyfriend again, he was just afraid. He was terrified of losing you but didn’t know how to react properly. He keeps on telling that you belong to him, that he owns you and everything but he doesn’t intend to dominate you. It’s just a way for him to convince himself that you’re still with him, and not in someone else’s arms.

You can feel your lips curving up into a smile. He’s just a clueless boy, probably still as inexperienced as you are when it comes to love.

You’re sinking more into his arms, sighing as he rakes his fingers down your spine. When silence starts to hang in the air, tension growing thick, Haechan spares you a glance. “Noona?”

You’re not sure what it is inside you that drives you wild but when you’re awake from your reverie, your lips are on his again, melting against his heat, and desperately asking him to deepen the kiss.

The way he inadvertently moans against your lips indicates that your kiss catches him off guard but he soon finds back his pace. He crawls on top of you, pressing your body closer, chest meeting chest, and murmurs your name with his silvery voice against your ear, successfully sending goosebumps to every inch of your body.

“Forget my first wish.” You can barely recognize your own voice from how husky it has become. He has his lips tracing your jawline, about to map his way down but you keep him still, not wanting to erase the warmth of his lips on yours just yet. “It’s a stupid wish anyway. I don’t know why I even asked that.”

Haechan forms a space between you, just to take another look at your face. His eyes are hooded, gleaming with desire. “Well then,” he rubs his thumb along your lower lip, while his tongue traces his own. “Can I kiss you more?”

“Yes.” It sounds more like a plead than affirmation, strongly painted with urgency. “Come here.”

Haechan’s lips are warmer than how they usually felt but you can’t be certain. It’s been a while since you last shared an intimate moment with him and you just now realized that it really isn’t just him who desperately seeks attention. You crave his touch way more than he does for yours.

But maybe that’s not true after all, because Haechan has his eyebrows furrowed as he kisses you passionately, his lips keep searching for yours whenever you try to pull away to catch a breath. The way he sinks his fingers along your hips, how determined he is in keeping you close to the point you can start counting on his eyelashes—everything that he does screams his emotions vividly. How much he longs for you. How much he misses the taste of your breath on his tongue.

“Don’t stop,” you whisper, your fingers pressed against his jaw. “Please…”

Haechan blinks, a bit startled and perhaps a tad confused as well, considering you stopped him from going too far earlier. But he doesn’t complain and takes every chance he can get, if it means he can be closer to you. It’s so soft, the way he kisses you now, as if he’s having his first kiss, not sure if he’s doing it right but you don’t mind. It’s rare, being kissed by him like this, and somehow it makes your skin tingle as if merely just a touch of his lips is sending electricity to your entire body.

“I love you,” you whisper as you share his breath. “I really do love you, Hyuck.”

The way he halts his action for a good two seconds, probably letting your words sink into his head, makes your own heart skip a beat or two. And you’re worried if you say too much, or if you’ve become too needy and it annoys him, but when you sneak a glance at him, you notice how his cheeks are tainted with red before he leans closer, roughly murmuring, “Just kiss me again,” against your lips.

But the way he’s holding your body makes you feel way more loved than the words he said earlier. And he’s taking his time, just gently moves his lips against yours, his tongue slipping in only slightly to steal a taste. But you sigh against his mouth either way because it’s not only his kiss that weakens you, it’s his entire presence—the way his warmth seeps through the fabric of your dress, the way he’s holding back a moan when you unconsciously tug his locks a little bit too hard, or the way he just naturally smells so sweet, almost honey-like, numbing your other senses at once.

“Noona,” he breathes heavily, tilting his head to the side so you’ll have better access to running your lips against the skin of his neck. “I want… I need…” he trails off, too busy looking at the way you’re slipping your fingers underneath his shirt, tracing his hot feverish skin with your cold digits. “I really need you now.”

“Then keep touching me,” you mumble against his jaw, searching for his lips again. “I want to feel you too. Come closer.” But even if your words speak a sense of urgency, your fingers still feel as light as a feather on his skin and he seems to notice that, because he’s keeping up the same pace, not suddenly rushing to tear your clothes apart like how he usually does.

He chants your name over and over again, almost like a prayer, his desire running thick in his veins. As he moves down, his fingers find their way to the zipper of your dress, pulling it down slowly, and he takes his time to kiss every inch of your body that’s revealed to him one by one.

“You don’t know how much I’ve been wanting to do this to you,” he confesses, his nose skimming along the skin of your shoulder. “I’ve missed you.”

“Me too.” You arch your back, desperately needing to close the space between you. “I’ve missed you too.”

And you’re half-expecting him to put on a smirk and asks, “Yeah? How much, exactly?” But this time, he doesn’t. His lips are busy marking your skin, sucking gently at the spot that makes you curl your toes. He brings his eyes back to yours again when your lips moan out his name.

“Don’t do that,” he says, looking like he’s gradually losing control of himself. “You know how that drives me crazy.”

“I thought you liked it.”

“I love it, but—” He suddenly presses his lips hard against yours, as if there’s another person inside him that’s been screaming at him to latch his lips with yours before he wastes more second talking nonsense. And you try to reciprocate the movement of his lips with the same speed but he doesn’t give you much room to improvise. He knows what he’s doing, all you need to do is just relax and blend into the kiss. He already makes everything so easy for you. The problem is, he makes you feel like something is pressing against your chest and your stomach is doing crazy flips over and over again.

He finally stops again when you gasp his name.

“Ah, no, seriously.” It’s like he’s fighting a battle within himself, pulling away from you and shaking his head. “I want to take it slow today, Noona, but you moaning my name like that is not making it easy for me so please, just don’t—” He exhales, pressing his temple against yours with his eyes closed. “Don’t torture me like that.”

It’s cute how he tries to hold back, trying to be as gentle as possible. “I’m fine with the way you usually hold me, though.” It’s tempting, and he’s pretty much dazed with the sultry smirk you have on your face, but he shakes his head again, snapping him back from his own thoughts.

“No, it’s your birthday,” he says, eyes switching back and forth from your eyes to your lips as he tries to enunciate his reason. “I want to make it special.”

You raise an eyebrow suspiciously. “So you’re saying that all the sex we did before today wasn’t special to you?”

He gapes. “No, that’s not—”

“Just kidding.” You giggle, pecking his cheek. “Okay, then, do your thing.” You sit up straight so you can undress properly and his eyes are instantly glued to your chest when your bra slips down your shoulders. You don’t really intend to make it sexy, but the way his eyes grow wide when you say “I’m all yours,” and lies down on his bed again in nothing but your laced underwear seems to indicate that that’s exactly how you look in his mind.

He mutters an almost inaudible fuck under his breath before he snaps himself out of his reverie again. He stands with his knees pressed on the bed, pulling his shirt over his head before he hovers back on top of you, peppering wet kisses from your ear to your neck before he ends it with his tongue trailing down the valley of your breasts.

He stops to reach for his drawer, searching for a condom while you struggle to unfasten his belt and unbutton his jeans. You’re finished a few seconds sooner and already have your back pressed against the sheet again when he crawls on top of you with a packet of condom between his teeth.

“No, wait.” You catch him by his arm as he’s about to tear the package with his teeth. “I’m on the pill today too so you can do it without.”

“Well, fuck,” he exhales, latching his lips back to yours again. “Why are you being so nice to me today?”

“You literally just complained about me being mean to you a few minutes ago.”

“Well, now that I get to come inside you again, I’m taking all my words back.” He gives playful kisses on your nose and cheeks before he licks around your face like how a cute little puppy would.

“Stop it, you’re gross!” But your airy laughter soon begins to vanish, only to be replaced with a sense of uncertainty. You begin to feel nervous when he hooks his fingers around the edge of your underwear and pulling it down your legs, baring yourself completely for his eyes. He’s seen you naked countless times and you never really felt this nervous before so it must be because—

“You seem to be thinking about something,” he interrupts, parting your legs so he can slide in between them. “Something wrong?”

“Umm—I—“ It’s not the way you stutter that betrays you; it’s the prominent blush that stains your cheeks. But you have to do this. You have to say this. Not just for your sake, but his too. “Haechannie..?”

“Yeah, Noona?”

“For my next wish…” You wet your lip anxiously, swallowing your breath, your heart nearly leaps out of your chest. “C-can you eat me out, please…?”

It’s the first time you’ve seen him so startled by your action—or by anything, really—to the point that he has to remind himself to blink. “What?”

You groan, hastily grabbing a pillow nearby and use it to cover your face. “Don’t make me say it again, you idiot!” You expect him to laugh, or worse, mock you about it but instead, he snatches the pillow away, throwing it to the side, and wraps his fingers around your wrists, holding you in place.

“Noona, please,” he pleads, his cheeks turning scarlet, mirroring yours. “Please say it again. I want to see you when you say it.”

It’s actually borderline hilarious the way he’s so serious about it, and perhaps it’s really his biggest turn on—one that he hasn’t seen coming from you after all this time—so you decide to swallow your pride and indulge him further.

You repeat your words and watch as his eyes widened again for a split second before they turn gentle, looking so happy that you finally get to answer his wish. “About damn time,” he whispers against your lips, his husky voice reverberating nicely to your ears as he tastes every bit of your mouth with his tongue. He wastes no more time, heading south while placing more wet kisses down your body.

His lips are hovering above your heat, and you can really feel his breath down there. You have your eyes closed in anticipation but Haechan suddenly says, “You know what, let’s do it this way.”

He leaves you hanging and you’re about to be swallowed by shame but he suddenly lies down on the bed, his head almost touching the headboard, and motions you to come closer. “Come here.”

“What?”

“I want you to sit on my face,” he says and you almost choke on your saliva. “Come here, Noona. Please.”

And it stresses you out so much because you’ve never done this before—never even thought about it even—and you figured you just had to lay there and let him do whatever he wants with you. Crawling over to sit on his face is clearly not what you had in mind.

“Come on,” he lightly sneers when he sees how nervous you are. “I won’t bite.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, feeling a little bit lightheaded from how embarrassed you are, but when he offers a hand, you take it and follow his lead.

You have your legs on each side of his head and he’s holding you by your hips, guiding you to lower yourself down to him. “Stop being so tense,” he chuckles and you flinch because he’s so dangerously close. “It’s not like I’ve never seen you up-close before.”

“It’s different—” You gasp when he swipes his tongue against your folds, just once, before he asks, “Different how?”

You’re too occupied with sorting out your feelings and all these sensations that coming into your head at once. “I don’t know, it’s weird—” You almost whine when you feel him moving his tongue again.

“Your thighs are shaking, Noona,” he chuckles, and you clench your teeth, trying to be less conscious of how his hot breath hitting your sensitive spot.

“Please, s-stop talking.”

“I’m trying to make this casual,” he says, his voice sounding less clear as it hits your skin. “If I stop talking, you’re gonna start thinking about things again.”

“I’m not—Haechannie—” You bring your fingers to cover your mouth to stop you from moaning too loud. He’s giving tentative licks around your clit, moving agonizingly slow and you fumble with your hands, not knowing where to place them. Everything feels both terrifyingly good and painfully awkward and you’re trapped between wanting to continue and stop at the same time.

“Here,” Haechan offers, taking one of your hands and guides it down until it finds home in his hair. “Or you can lay your hands against the headboard. But I prefer you do it this way so I’ll know if you’re feeling,” he stops to licks a stripe up your folds, making you shiver, “good, or,” this time, he stops to suck hard on your clit, startling you with the amount of pleasure jolting through your veins that your body begins to tremble. “Extremely good,” he finishes, moving to the side so he can place a kiss on your thigh, letting you feel his teasing smile on your skin.

Your breathing tatters as he continues with his ministrations, now adding one of his fingers inside you to increase the pleasure. Your head hangs low, and you’re not able to tear your eyes away from his face. Seeing him between your thighs, with his eyes closed as if he’s enjoying every second of it, is just the sexiest thing you’ve ever witnessed.

“You seem to be much more relaxed now,” Haechan leans back to show you his godforsaken smirk, “Good girl. Are you starting to regret the fact we didn’t do this sooner?”

And you want to be upset about it—about how he’s still teasing you even during this moment—but the way his breath keeps fanning against your sensitive skin makes you weak. “Please just…” You’re about to sob because it’s too damn embarrassing to be put in this situation. “Stop teasing me, Hyuck…”

Haechan blinks at your expression, his gaze immediately softens. “I’m sorry,” he says, kissing you gently on the inner part of your thigh again. “You’re just so damn cute, I can’t help but tease. Forgive me?”

And you just answer with a small nod because that’s all you can offer before his lips are pressed against your entrance again, tongue slipping inside to know how you really taste.

“Wait—” You begin to panic from how good and weird it feels. “L-let’s stop for a sec—It’s too much—” The shame, the sensation, the pleasure—they’re all hitting you hard at once and you’re too nervous to function properly.

Haechan sneaks a glance at your face, taking in the way it contorts into several emotions at once. “Baby,” he calls out softly, which sends shivers down to your core. “Don’t be nervous, it’s only me.”

You notice how he’s imitating your words from earlier and that gives you the chance to think about something else. “But… What about you..?” You ask, making eye contact with him and gulping when he raises his eyebrow in question. “I mean, I can’t please you like this.”

“Oh…” He leans his head down to the bed, giving you the space you want but not exactly what you need. “Then… Wanna do it at the same time?”

You nibble at your bottom lip, slowly nodding your head and his eyes gleam excitedly in response.

“Ah, you’re the best, seriously,” he exhales, dreamily looking at you. “All right then, turn around.”

***

It’s two hours before midnight when another idea pops up in your head. “Haechannie,” you call him out, as you click off your phone and turn to him. Hearing him humming in response, you continue. “Call Jaemin and the rest of your cute little boyband.”

By the tone of your voice, he knows he’s going to go through hell again. He groans out loud, head dangling around the edge of his bed. “Why is this day not over yet, I swear to God—”

“Just call them, I’ve got something in mind.”

“Don’t tell me you want me to make-out with them or something.”

“Why, are you interested?”

He grimaces, sticking out his tongue. “I’d rather die.”

“Glad that’s not what I’m asking then.” You climb up to join him on the bed, sitting next to his body with your knee almost touching the side of his head. He shifts around, placing his head on your lap, and stares at you with tired eyes.

“Please don’t be too mean to me this time,” he begs and you snort, can’t believe that the mischievous Lee Donghyuck actually begs you to spare his life.

You card your fingers through his hair and he closes his eyes, relaxing at your touch. It doesn’t last long though, his blissfulness, because on the next second, you say, “I want you to play that online game you always play with them but be terribly bad at it.”

“WHAT—“ He blurts out, sitting upright in such a rush that he almost knocks your heads together. “WHY—HOW COULD YOU—”

“Okay, breathe.”

“But this is too much!” He whines, his eyes widening in horror. “I have a status to uphold! You can’t do this to me!”

“Look, if it matters that much to you, I’ll give you permission to explain the situation to them.” You squeeze his hand, smiling understandingly at him. “You can tell them that you’re doing this because you’re granting my birthday wish.”

That manages to calm him down a little. “So I can let them know before the game? Oh, thank God—”

“No, a month after the game.”

“WHY ARE YOU SO EVIL—”

“Just do it already!” You shout out with a teasing grin strapped to your face. “You owe me at least that much after I let you come in my mouth.”

He gapes, eyes widening in shock. “That was for this?! I feel so tricked!”

“Well, I wasn’t thinking about that before but—” You shake your head, waving the rest of your sentence away. “Come on, Haechannie, please, please, please~” You rub your hands together, batting your eyelashes again.

He grumbles, pushing you away. “Stop doing that aegyo on me, I’m not doing it!”

I’ll grant you five wishes for your birthday!” You can’t believe you’re saying this and you know you’re going to regret it later in the future but there’s still time and you hope he’s gonna forget about it when the time arrives. Hopefully.

Haechanlooks extremely tempted at that. “Any kind of wishes?”

You wince but nod eventually. “As long as it’s nothing sexual.”

“Oh, you’re gonna regret saying that.” His smirk is back and he’s doing it so cockily that it sends shivers down your spine. Well, you can work over that problem later. “Fine, let’s go. Give me the phone.”

Haechan calls Jaemin an asswipe the first second he gets connected but by the sound of his voice coming from the other line, he’s not even bothered in the slightest. “Get off Jeno’s dick for once and log back into your account. Bring Jisung with you. I’ll be online in ten minutes and if I don’t see you there, I’ll text your mom the real reason why you didn’t show up on Christmas Day.” And he shuts off his phone with a click, throwing it randomly on his bed.

“Do boys normally make phone calls like that?” you ask, judging him.

He only shrugs, “Cooler ones do.”

“What happened during Christmas Day?”

“Jaemin got his ass drunk, went out with Jeno, and ended up having a threesome with a stripper.” He yawns, throwing himself back on the bed again. “I’m just glad they didn’t take Jisung with them. He’s been through a lot, that poor kid.” And when he sees you raising an eyebrow in question, he just waves you off. “Trust me, you don’t wanna know.”

There’s a lot of shouting in the background when the game started, most of it coming from the other line of Haechan’s headphones that’s strapped to his ears. You lean close to him so you can hear Jeno shouting at him, “Yah! What the fuck, Lee Donghyuck?! I thought you said you were going left!”

“I am going left.”

“THAT’S NOT LEFT, YOU IDIOT!”

And you feel sorry for your boyfriend for degrading himself on purpose like this. “As you can see,” he says, wincing as his ears begin to ring from all the shouting. He mutes his headphone as he focuses back on you with his fingers angrily tapping on his keyboards. “This causes me physical pain. I hope you’re happy.”

“I am happy.” You peck him on his cheek. “You’re the best. I love you.”

Haechan snorts, looking away and tapping his headphone again to unmute his microphone. “Hey assholes, I just died again. Sorry about that.” More screaming and angry rantings can be heard from the other line and you savor the moment as long as you can. It’s not every day you can see your cocky boyfriend being bullied by his underlings.

It’s too fun watching him play with his face contorting like he’s in deep agony that you begin to lose track of time. You just realize how late it is when Haechan suddenly quits the game, puts his PC back to the sleeping mode, and turns his chair around to face you. You suddenly feel nervous as you sit on the edge of his bed, with him staring at you with a sinful smile creeping up his face, crossing his legs.

“Ten, nine, eight,” he says, tapping his fingers and you flinch in realization. “You better start running, Noona.” He walks over, chucking off his shirt on his way to you whilst continuing his countdown. His silver necklace glints under the fluorescent light of his room and he bends down, trapping you between his arms. “Because I’ll be in charge in three… two…”

You gulp, your heart thrumming loudly against your ribcages as you feel his lips hovering dangerously above yours.

“One.”

***

979 notes · View notes

sereisstuff · 3 years

Text

ɪɴꜱᴛᴀɴᴛᴀɴᴇᴏᴜꜱ ᴄᴜʀꜱᴇꜱ

noun

plural noun: curses

a solemn utterance intended to invoke a supernatural power to inflict harm or punishment on someone or something.

Tale of the story: Jungkook; a demigod. Fell in love with a mortal, in most stories the mortals die. What makes you think this one is any different.

Plus size reader (Not implied, but I only write for plus size readers so any, and every story on my page that I’ve written is implied, plus-size reader)

Warnings: self-inflicted harm (not intentionally) mentions of blood. Swearing? very rushed. Little dialogue at times. Angst! Fantasy.

Inspiration was when I was staring out the car window like four hours ago, so do what you will with that information. Song's I recommend is a runaway from aurora and the seed.

Not proofread

Your hair bustled in the wind, mimicking the waves before them. A deafening shriek, melodiously flowing through the air as the heavy roars of Poseidon fell before you. Oh, how you wished this day could end, it was all due to your imaginative stupidity which led you to your untimely decisions. Your curiosity piqued a much greater meaning as you stumbled upon something you shouldn’t have, something so tender that not even your callous human hands could grasp.

It was a warm day when you stumbled upon Jungkook bathing under the waterfall, by far the most exquisite figure you’ve ever laid your eyes on. It was odd, he was handsome, so handsome your mind couldn’t comprehend his features. So defined in the most perfect places but even his flaws held beauty. Something you wouldn't ever say to yourself, you were so busy lost in his exotic features that as you examined him, your once starstruck eyes turned into shocked ones.

His feet replaced by fins connecting his toes, strong legs glistening under the water almost gloss like. If you hadn't gasped aloud, you wouldn’t have caught the creature's focus. His charismatic eyes faded into anguish and he held his breath as if you would slowly forget him, which you wish he implied on you at this moment.

Jungkook was a rather charismatic being, so full of life. He told you many things, the beings he encountered, his descendancy and you were absolutely enchanted by it all. Jungkook went from being the eye that captured you to the person you needed the most. So much had happened that the dangers you encountered soon became normalised. He wasn’t a god nor was he human, he was a demigod.

And you can recall the very moment he told you…..

“You know, I’ve known you for a while now. Yet, you still can’t give me a direct answer as to what you are? Who you are? You know so much about me but I know nothing about you” you asked, it was very true. You often got lost in your rambles that by the time he watched you walk into the night back to your residency, you no longer had time to ask him who he truly was, it was almost like you forgot. Every. Single. Time.

Jungkook stared at his reflection beneath him, toes curling just before the water and he wondered. Was it truly something he wanted you to know, did he no longer honour his people's secrecy, it was as if the water would always be a part of him and just like the tides. He was pulled from his desire to feel ‘normal’, that the other part of him wanted nothing more than to run from the ocean.

“I don’t know what I am either” he spoke, voice tough in correspondence “I’m many things, to many beings. I’m a prince to countless, an heir to others. A beast of life to some, but to you and your people, I am a demigod. A halfling cursed with humanity, I’m telling you this because as we’ve ventured, I’ve given you my trust and you’ve done nothing to betray it” Jungkook's voice was soft, as always. His curious gaze lifted from beneath his fallen hairs, strayed from their roots and moved like silk from his eyes as the wind touched his bristles.

Your bottom lip curled between your teeth in thought, it wasn’t hard to believe because at this point in time. This was the least likely to be the most unbelievable.

“If you're a demigod as you say, and your source correlates with the water. Does this mean your father is….poseidon?” came your question, your needy eyes now meet by his doe ones. His brows furrowed in response as if it was hard for him to communicate.

With his intense gaze, he nodded, ever so slowly. It was a painful nod, one stricken in fear. Jungkooks charisma faded into his clouded mind and you led him astray from his defences. He didn’t enjoy this, his shared vulnerability felt unnatural, it wasn’t the way he was taught. His humanity was often correlated with Beastiality by his people and the emotions that flooded his mind felt so distant to him. It wasn’t like he feared his people, he just feared their intentions with those who they didn’t deem worthy of knowing of them.

“Then why do you seem so human-like, is this my perception of you? Am I meant to know of your existence because if that’s not the answer, must I fear for my life” you asked slowly, making sure every word you spoke made it through to him, your tendency for empathetic traits seemed to come into play and by the looks of it? It seemed sickening to him.

The sun was led astray by the clouds and your moment was soon to end, the lake he visited you was by the ocean. Covered in a deep forest with a subtle pathway of dirt to lead you back home.

Jungkook let a giggle escape his mouth towards your idiocy “You don’t need to fear for your life as long as I’m here. My mother presented herself as a human during the time she met my father, a woman with such beauty had grasped his attention. It’s hard to say why I’m like this because she herself wasn’t a human. My father says it’s because the moment they collided was what I was imaged after but these days I don’t believe much from his mouth” a slight husk to his tone deepened at the mention of his father.

“As long as you're here aye? What are you, my protector? My guardian? Jungkook my saviour” you cooed falling helplessly on his hooded chest to lighten up his dampened mood. The information was enough to suffice your curiosity, just enough to vanquish your questions and you didn’t want to risk his sadness for your rambling mind.

Jungkook lifted a ringed finger, resting it on your head in a comforting motion. Surprising you. You sat awkwardly, legs laid upon each other as you laid on his thighs unintentionally “Protector has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?” He asked, his childish tone was back once more letting the serious resonance fade into the abyss of his mind once more.

“More like Jungkook the fish, when have you once protected me, it’s always me protecting you. Like that time a kid tried throwing water at you and I pushed you out of the way” You continued, feeling the heat of your cheeks fire in adornment, he never held you this intimately. Only a peck to those plush cheeks of yours and a hug, usually you were doing the hugging...

“You didn’t need to, I’m not a mermaid. A tale isn’t going to spontaneously pop out of my ass, you just made us both look like idiots” He laughed, sending you into hysterics “Let me have my saviour moment dammit, in my mind that was quite heroic of me don’t you think” you tried lifting yourself from his thigh but his grasp was too strong, that not even your head moved from his stoned hands.

“Not at all, heroism can’t even be the definition of what you did. Maybe embarrassment? Or, even better. Dumbass?” you shot up from his hand, defying his strength. Planting your hands to his side so your face was merely away from his face “I am not a dumbass, I did what I thought was right at the time, I should have let the water hit you, very very ungrateful if I may say so myself” you didn’t really notice the proximity at first, to fired in your own mind to notice Jungkook's doe eyes widen at the mere feel of your breath heating his cheeks.

Your ramble continued as he gulped, heated in nervousness. His eyes turning a pale blue, covering his chocolate brown eyes with a slight desire but mostly fear of his actions.

“Ah, y/n” he tried but you continued over him “-remember that time your fingers started doing that sticking together thing like a fin and I took my gloves off, mid-winter to cover yours which by the way. You never gave back, I don’t care because you can keep them but living under the water and all, I feel like I should have given them my final wishes at least”

Jungkook coughed, staring into your eyes, placing a soft hand onto your hips in hopes of it grasping your attention “By the way, were you trying to make a mako mermaid reference and I’m only just getting it now because that would make me feel like a dumbass, which I’m not. I’m not implying that you are either because you're smart but you're also a dick” Your words were switching so fast that he panicked and planted a kiss onto your soft plump lips.

Oh, how warm they felt, your eyes widened in shock. Feeling his soft lips move rhythmically against your own, unable to comprehend his movements as you stared at his thick lashes coating his lids, finally sinking into his tender touch.

Jungkooks fairly large hands are planted on your wide hips, his touch so tender in fear of hurting you. Even his kisses lingered on your lips as he struggled to move from their enchantment.

From that moment onwards you both lingered on the thought of it, treating the other more softly. Graciously, he treated you like a porcelain doll in fear of losing you. He always kept one hand clasped to your own, for what he called his mystical rope.

But moments like that also end in tragedy because even if you found love. Your demise soon followed you to your meeting place, in hopes of seeing him by the dock you awaited. Staring dreamily at the moon above you, your eyes playing with the stars surrounding it and your heart warmed at the tranquillity falling before you, everything seemed to be so full of majesty.

You were so lost in a daze that you didn’t notice the feet pandering behind you, a hooded figure stood before you, lips uncovered but eyes hidden in disguise. This moment wouldn’t have scared you, unmatched to yours and Jungkook's odd adventures, still, the knife they had in their hand glistened under the moonlight and that made your heart race scarcely.

“Y/n?” they asked, voice full of femininity.

You nodded, eyes in search of their own. “Lighten up, I’m not here to hurt you” they laughed, removing their hood painfully slowly, revealing a young woman. Mid-fifties with healthy skin and strands falling down her face with the colour of lightning streaks befalling them, her doe eyes and thin brows reminded you of something but as you gazed into her eyes, you felt the fear vanquish.

“Who are you?” you asked, it seemed as if you’d been doing that often nowadays.

The hooded woman sat beside you, her large, golden streaked blanket resting on her slender shoulders fell like a pool surrounding her due to its thickness. It seemed warm on the inside. “I am no one.” she gave, wisely making you roll your eyes “no one? Everybody's someone” you replied, disliking the ungiving answer she so happily gifted you.

Her slender jaw spread as she released a mocking laugh “Darling, some want to be perceived as someone. I am the embodiment of no one, by now I know your shock is an action of acting. I know of your adventures, I know of your discovery. So take me as I am because I may come back in a different form next time around; the concept of matter is how you mould it, when you are matter, you are anything.”

“You are no one” you repeated in hushed whispers, to which she hummed in reply “-yes, I come as a heathing warning for you my dear” her long black hair swished like magic around her but she was so unfathomed by it, by everything. You couldn’t even feel her energy, her being was untraceable, it was almost like she was a concept of unperception “a warning? First, you stand before me with a knife, then you lecture me on matter and now I’m receiving a warning for something I may not have even don-”

“No, not of what you have done. What you’ve meddled in, as you may know. The prince you're waiting for” she was cut off by you immediately “How did you kn-”

“I’m speaking” she demanded, she flicked her slender fingers in the with fast-paced movements, the advancement made your posture straighten and your mouth shut, ziplocked “I heath a fate made warning; A prince will someday meet his demise, secrecy is leaked and unfathomable death may plague all lands unless the loved are sacrificed. Unlike many, whom may not understand that. I come to you in the form he was conceived in, despite never appearing before him. I have come to you, I have deciphered the riddle for your understanding. Jungkook has always been the son of the cursed. Unless you sacrifice yourself for him”

“I know your love for him is prudent and rooted in for all of eternity so I ask you this? Is your love so strong that you're willing to lay down your life and wait for him in the next? Or are you so obsessed with what he is that your love is a manifestation of your unlived fantasies' ' she spoke with such anger, your breathing elevated as the moon disappeared within the clouds and her eyes turned a bright blue with black surroundings. Her hair floated in the air and she once more reversed her curse she placed on you, watching you fall to the floor, coughing from the unused air within your lungs.

“What’s it to you? Yo-you were never there for him. He grew motherless, your sudden support seems awfully unwilling” you screamed, her power raised the winds and the tides grew with it. “You know nothing of magick my dear, scream all you want but what’s set in stone cannot be changed by faith. I protect him from the shadows and nurture him from afar. He doesn’t need me, he’s a prince, a son of a god. He can handle himself.”

She stood, using her power to light up the sky around you in an array of lighting. Strong her movements were, the tips of her fingers swirled as a barricade of wind surrounded you both, blocking the outside world off, the anger rising around you couldn’t be heard from your standing point and your fear suddenly grew. Was what she said true? Were you merely going to be a sacrifice in fate?

“Do you love my son?” she asked, this time. Her hands placed on your cheeks, warming them and disclosing your fear. You didn’t hesitate, nodding your head almost immediately, causing her saddened doe eyes to close, squeezed shut in thought. Her cries kept from her throat and she apologised “I’m so sorry for this.” She whispered. Suddenly, her hands lit and your mind eradicated into an unfathomable pain, but just as it arrived. It also left and instantaneously you felt trapped.

You watched from within your eyes, as she gifted you her golden knife. Placing her soft forehead against your own, whispering sweet nothings until she backed away and looked atop into the sky before slowly disappearing into the air like ash.

“No, no, no” you repeated watching as you unleash a cut on your skin.

It was a quick, swift moment. The knife pierced at your skin and sliced your innocence, it was damn near painful but your mind was so overrun with memories that the pain you inflicted upon yourself felt no less painful than the crack in your heart. It was a damned ending from the beginning but just like most, happy beginnings end horribly because it’s too good to be near true.

You were mortified by what was to come but just like the pain of birth, the pain of new beginnings and the entrance to humanity. Death could mimic its transition and your boat was rocking. But you didn’t regret any of it, you knew the moment he told you of what was to come that this was your sacrifice, your tears watering the board creaking beneath you as the raging waves swindled the currents beneath you, at this point. It no longer felt like you were endangered by anything, your trapped consciousness merged into one and you walked to the edge of the dock.

Rivers of blood trickled down your arms and you cried from within, just a moment ago you awaited your love’s arrival but now you’ve become his only path of living. It was all unfair.

But just like that, your will vanished and you fell. The drop wasn’t too far but you did, your hair sunken into the water, the tides pulling you further beneath its weight and you felt weightless. It felt serene, the suffocation of your lungs was unkempt but then again, you couldn’t feel anything. Not even the siren screamed before you as Jungkook saw your floating body and silken blood dragging from your arms like leashes. The gash inside of your belly was doing its unholy work.

He had you in his arms, strongly wrapped behind your head and your waist as he stared at you, eyes stricken in fear and pain, shooting from the wanted with you in his arms, landing on any near-surface. Using his arms as a shield from your pain, he couldn’t understand the sudden change in environment but he knew of whom when he saw your floating body.

All he saw was red.

The rain began to fall from the sky, masking his hefty tears from his eyes. He couldn’t see your breathing so he reached a hand above your mouth, whispering incantations as his tips felt the water pile, lifting from your purple lips and a cough escaping your mouth.

“Come on, y/n. You can’t do this to me, not now” He cried sullenly, “please” he pleaded, resting a head on your cheek, the once tender warmth released with thin streaks of breathing and ice-cold skin, his cries mimicked the thunder as he rested his hand against your stomach praying to the ocean for strength, he no longer cared about himself because in a world without you, there wasn’t a world of hope. Of adventure, of love. He couldn’t bear the thought and if you left, he would too.

He screamed a growl like one as his hands lit in blue, heavy harshed breaths escape his mouth and his heart patterned. He didn’t care for the wind prickling at his raised hairs, the lightning striking before him because if he could save you, he couldn’t save himself.

“Please, breath baby. Please.” he sobbed.

The wounds barely healed as he leant an air against your chest, unable to hear your lively heart. Breaking him further “Why, why her out of all people. Why not me, out of all people you took the one person willing to love me” He wailed into the sky, falling against your corpse body. His tears falling against your salty face.

“Just five more minutes would have felt like an eternity more if you gave me the chance.”

He curled up beside you in the rain, ignoring the storm happening around him. His arm wrapped around your flat body as he sunk into your neck with loud sobs. His smile broke from him and the strings to his heart no longer played its serene melodies as he saw you, riddled with death.

It was churning, moments ago you awaited his love. His oddly cold warmth he provided and now you laid in the eye of all rage. Your thoughts are alive once more, but faintly. Just like the faint beat of your heart that caught the attention of your lover. His weakened hands pushed his body up and laid an ear against your heart, the strum of your strings beating once more gifted him something more, life couldn’t leave your body just yet.

His tears stuck to your face and the magic within them, secured into your veins and simultaneously he watched your wounds turn into sigils of protection, scarred into your body. Your breathing returned as Jungkook hovered above you, his fin-like hands placed beside your messy strands as he tucked the swindled roots behind your pierced ears, awaiting for your eyes to open once more.

“Am I just that important” you whispered barely, the movement of your lips made him laugh in joy. His breathing heightened as his chest pumped in and out.

He gripped your cheeks making you hiss in pain “shit, sorry” he muttered, still eccentric in glee. Just like the sea, you wanted to continue living so you fought fate. The comfort of your lovers' hands against your stricken features was extremely comforting and just like that, the heavy rain turned into hushed whisps.

“I promise to never leave your side again, never” he promised as he straddled your head within his strong arms.

“Fine by me” you coughed, voice still weakened by the taste of death.

Jungkook laughed, staring into the sky with hatred. One day he would get his revenge but for now, his focus was solely on you, and only you “I should have known better, I’m so sorry” he apologised frantically, you placed a hand on his naked arm, shocked that all this time he wasn’t clothed “It’s okay, Jungkook. It’s not your fault”

“You're wondering if I’m cold, goddamit y/n. You were dying and you're worried about me”

You shoved his head weakly “leave me alone, it’s hard not to worry about someone you love”

Jungkook pecked your cheek, tiredly “I love you too”

209 notes · View notes

oftenderweapons · 3 years

Text

Illicit Affairs — Hoseok

Pairing: Hoseok x reader (nicknamed Giggles)

Wordcount: 11.2k

Genre: Smut. A tiny little bit of angst and fluff too but. Smut.

Rating: 18+

Hi bumblebees! Thank you for staying with me so far and for being so kind with hey works and my continuously shifting schedule.

Quick plot! Hoseok and Giggles have just met: Giggles was the substitute for Mickey’s vet and she helped the doggo and Hoseok during an emergency, however the hour they spent together was enough for Hoseok to develop a quite intense crush for the young woman. He decides he wants to invite her to a date and picks his apartment as the location, going out of his way to try to impress her. However, the elegant dinner miserably crashes once his poor nerves abandon him. Fortunately, Giggles can take the reins, but is also willing to give them up at the right moment.

Special thanks to beta extraordinaire, @hobiandsprite I really love you. Please, don’t be sad and let those giggles out every now and then.

Moving on to The Big Stuff.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Alcohol consumption, swearing. Basic BDSM training, Sir!Hoseok x sub!reader; safe sex, briefest mentions of masturbation (male and female), grinding, humping, making out, lots of tongue action, food play (and very messy one at it), cum play, cum eating, mild choking kink, one (1) breast slap, mild fetishism (panties, perfume/smells). Hoseok is overall very controlling, especially while he’s giving her basic training. There’s some sort of exhibitionism (if you like,,,, squint). Also Hoseok is a neurotic mess, Giggles is also quite tense and both like each other a lot, which leads to a few moments of weakness here and there. Mentions of vet emergency (don’t worry, Mickey is doing alright, he was just suffering from the hot temperatures).

Here you can check my full masterlist

Enjoy 💜✨

Jung Hoseok was nervous.

He was tense, palms sweating, nape drenched in perspiration.

He was a ball of nerves and he had never felt like this in a long time. Maybe ever since his first performance in the U.S.

Not like the day of their debut, but close.

And all of this for a stupid date.

He just wanted to know you, see if the image he had built of you actually corresponded with your actual personality.

He cracked his neck and shoulders, pacing back and forth, wondering if it were a good idea having you at his place.

After all, you were Mickey’s vet. He could be safe with you, right? You wouldn’t expose him now, would you?

It was the first time he ever brought someone in his home and he was way too nervous to feel comfortable.

He immediately picked up his phone.

“Jung. Hoseok. I don’t even know why I picked up this call. Why aren’t you getting prepped and polished for your date?” Yoongi’s voice was quiet and gravelly from the other side. It was seven pm, he shouldn’t have been sleeping, Hoseok mused, shaking his head once he realised Yoongi was spending the weekend with Kitten and the two had probably been dozing off on the sofa all afternoon.

“I think I fucked up. I like this apartment, I can’t jeopardise my home.” He panicked, finally losing his cool.

Yoongi inhaled and groaned as he stood up, leaving Kitten alone to rest undisturbed. “She seems a kind person. A smart one too. Just talk to her.”

“You know I suck at talking!” Hoseok whined, combing his hair off his forehead. “I don’t know why I want to impress her so bad.”

Yoongi chuckled. “Because you have a crush on her.”

“But I don’t even know her!” Hoseok protested, sitting on the sofa for a second before standing up again.

“That’s the key ingredient of a crush. Once you start getting to know her, you either grow out of it or fall in love.”

Hoseok cocked his head and toyed with his earlobe nervously. “Do you think she’ll like me? I mean, she looks so sweet, and so innocent and I can’t even imagine her being into—”

“Don’t judge. Strange fits sometimes work. Think Jimin and Princess. Seokjin hyung and Angel. They work. Strange, I know, but they do.”

Hoseok exhaled.

“Stop pacing. Don’t be too hard on yourself. First date is always a bumpy road. Maybe you’ll find out she’s not your thing and all these worries will be gone by the end of the night.”

“What if I like her and she doesn’t like me?”

Yoongi softened. “It’s all part of the game, Hobah.”

Hoseok nodded. “I have to go see if the chef needs help.”

Yoongi grinned. His friend was really going out of his way. Once, all he wanted were hotel rooms and quiet, curvy brunettes with so many sins they had officially given up on heaven at least a lifetime ago. “No matter how it goes, I’m sure you’ll find someone right for you.”

Hoseok nodded curtly before realising his friend couldn’t see his reply. “Thank you, Yoongi.”

“Sweep her off her feet, Casanova.”

With a bubbly laugh, Hoseok interrupted the call, headed to the private kitchenette. “Can I help you in any way?” Hoseok asked, still keeping his hands on his stomach, trying not to touch anything that could possibly cause a disaster — which considering the setting and his poor cooking skills meant everything.

“It’s okay. I can take care of everything. Don’t worry. Relax.” The chef almost wanted to take a second to pat the younger man’s back. He was probably six years his senior but the stress of a first date was timeless.

And the poor guy was sweating disastrously.

“Okay, then I’ll go check the table.” Hoseok murmured.

“Already settled. And the cake is waiting in the fridge. It’s still too hot for it.” The chef replied as he turned off the stove since the sauce for the noodles had reached perfect texture. “Maybe a small glass of soju could help?”

Hoseok shook his hands in panic. “Oh, no. That would make it all worse. Why is it so hot in here!”

He walked away from the kitchen, once more staring at the table near the wide floor to ceiling windows. The view would soon turn stunning, the Han river running like a pitch black road, cutting the city in two, Itaewon lighting up in the distance and emerging like a glowing mirage against the night sky.

What if she’s scared of heights?

He banged his head against the wall, pacing again, texting the group chat.

HS: “What if she suffers from vertigo?”

SJ: “You didn’t place the table by the window, did you?”

Hoseok tugged at his hair, undoing a button on his shirt. Why was everything so fucking hot?!

HS: “Should I move it? I have ten minutes! I can move it.”

TH: “Don’t. You can place her with her back to the window if she feels uncomfortable.”

JK: “You’re such a loser, hyung. Relax, it will work out.”

HS: “DON’T TELL ME TO RELAX YOU UNGRATEFUL RASCAL”

JM: “Okay, let’s calm down. Personally I would feel even worse with my back to the window. You can move to the coffee table. It will feel more informal and you will FINALLY GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR ASS,

JM: “she probably just wants to chat over fried chicken while you’re going to make her uncomfortable with all that finesse.”

NJ: “Gotta agree with Jimin on this one. She’ll simply want to chat. You’ll want to chat and get to know her.”

YG: “I told you it will be alright now stop spamming.”

HS: “AND I SUCK AT CHATTING”

JK: “yeah, you kinda ramble”

JM: “not helping Guk.”

The doorbell rang.

Fuck.

He pocketed his phone and headed to the door. “Yes?”

“Uhm… It’s confusing here, I think you need to pick me up.” You said anxiously over the intercom.

“I’m coming. Wait in the foyer.” He slipped on his shoes and got in the elevator, cracking all the joints of his fingers as it descended, going through the process again once he had cracked them all. He dumbly wished he had more fingers.

The door opened and there you stood with your back to him, your shoulders covered by a messy tumble of hair.

“Hello?” He called, making you turn around immediately.

His stomach turned upside down when you hit him with your sweetest, most radiant smile as you faced him. “Hi!”

He felt dumbstruck. You looked adorable, way too pretty for him. Way too incredible for anyone in the universe. “Hello.” He repeated, feeling a nervous smile constrict his face.

It almost looked like a grimace. For a second you thought you had somehow disappointed him. Maybe your dress was too informal? Were you too underdressed?

Staring at his outfit, you realised you were.

“You look very handsome.” You flattened your dress nervously, aware of every movement you made, feeling ridiculous.

“Oh, thank you.” He emitted the most neurotic laugh. Pull yourself together, Jung Hoseok, he innerly scolded himself before gesturing to the lift. “Shall we?”

You nodded, your glee completely lost. Staring at your dumb flats, you approached the opening doors and entered, Hoseok following suit.

You both stayed silent for a couple floors. “How was your day?” You managed to find the guts to ask.

“Uhm… Okay, I guess? My family came to pick Mickey up the other day so it’s been very quiet and a bit lonely.” He smiled but he looked sad.

You nodded. “Pets really change the whole feeling of home.”

He noticed you pressing your hands together before your lap, tucking your elbows against your sides as you tried to shrink yourself enough to disappear. You knew you should have bought a nice dress for this. You cursed your childish tastes and your sweet saffron dress, too demure and cheap for him. You had maybe spent 30,000 won on it, probably the equivalent of his shoelaces.

Screw that — obviously even his shoelaces cost more than that.

You started sucking at your lips, frowning at yourself for messing up your lipgloss. Out of nerves, you started twisting slightly side to side, your dress moving slightly with the motion, your eyes still focused on your shoes.

He was intimidating. Why in the world did you accept a date with him? He was way out of your league! All it would be was one date you would remember someday in your old years, annoying your grandchildren with that one time you had dinner at one of the most incredibly powerful and famous artists of the world.

Hoseok surreptitiously dried his palms against his trousers. He looked at you. His stomach turned again. He wondered how he would manage to eat all that food. All he could do was look at you and take in the cute freckles, that peppered your nose and cheekbones, and your arms too.

“You have freckles.” He noted absentmindedly, a thought unwillingly turned into speech.

You turned your head to him, batting your lashes confusedly. Was it a good thing or a bad thing?

“Yes.”

“You look like a strawberry.” Jung Hoseok, what the fuck.

You frowned. Again, was that good or bad?

“No one has ever told me that before,” you replied with a tense giggle.

He cocked his head at the sound. That was sweet. He liked that. Could he make you laugh like that again? “And you look very pretty in the dress. That shade of yellow really compliments you.” He confessed, feeling his whole face blush.

This felt like his first crush, when he would hide behind corners not to face the girl he liked, and when he would hide his face because it made him feel strange to be looked in the eye by her. She was way too pretty for him.

Thank the heavens, you thought as the doors finally opened on his floor.

He was drenched in sweat. He could literally feel the back of his shirt stick to his skin. He hoped you wouldn’t notice.

He smiled again, this time more relaxedly as he led the way. The lighting was perfect, the deep night sky splashing its colour over Seoul, the billowing darkness of the Han, the magical glimmering of Itaewon, like a flock of fireflies in the distance.

“Goodness gracious,” you exclaimed, walking toward the window and looking out, completely ignoring the table. “This is… It’s like flying.”

He smiled and let his shoulder sag in relief, his elated exhale cooling his heated chest. “I was panicking because it kind of hit me that you could be scared of heights. Like one of those last minute panic thoughts.”

You turned to him to comfort him. “It’s—”

You noticed the table. You noticed the gargantuan quantity of bowls and dishes and plates and cups spread all over it.

Suddenly it all made sense.

“Was this supposed to be a formal dinner?” You asked, your whole face scrunched in perplexity.

He froze in utter confusion. “Just dinner.”

“Are you okay?” You asked, looking as his left eyelid started pulsating with small flutters.

He hurriedly placed his hand over it, turning his back to you. “Yeah, just… Hot weather, blood pressure...”

You walked closer to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He was drenched. “Jung Hoseok,” you called calmly.

You could feel his heartbeat get three times faster.

“Hoseok. Turn around,” you told him sweetly, rubbing his shoulder-blade softly, completely ignoring the way the fabric stuck to his skin.

He turned to you, still cupping the left side of his face with both hands.

“Are you nervous?” You asked, feeling the ridge of his shoulder with your fingertips.

He nodded shyly, giving you the smallest pout.

“And you got a full meal for this? Were you trying to kill me by overfeeding me?” You asked with a tiny smile.

“I— I didn’t know what you like and I hired a chef so we could have excellent food here at home and—”

“This wasn’t necessary, you know that right?” You rubbed your thumb against the muscle and bone of his shoulder. “I mean, it’s not like I don’t appreciate it, but it seems like you went maybe… slightly out of your way for this.” You noticed more details, like the flowers and the candles and… wait, he hired a chef? There was another person that would take part in your date as a silent, distant viewer?

“Is it too much?” He asked, frowning and grimacing.

You offered him a lopsided grin and tipped your head to one side, then to the other, back and forth in a so-and-so gesture.

He covered his whole face with his hands and collapsed on the sofa. “Shit, I fucked up so bad.”

You crouched down before him, making sure that the dress didn’t expose too much of your thighs. “It’s okay. Would you like to have a formal dinner?”

“I just wanted to make a good impression.” He whined, tugging at his hair once more.

You touched his forearms, trying to ease his tension before realising that you were technically strangers and maybe he didn’t like being touched. You scolded yourself for your over-tactile approach, and your dumb habit of treating everyone like abandoned puppies. Embarrassedly you placed your hands on your lap, his face raising to meet yours as he felt your fingers leave his skin. Had he done something wrong? Had he made a fool of himself one more time, without even knowing?

“You already made a good impression—”

“I wanted to confirm it!” He wailed exasperatedly.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you tried to calm him down. “We can walk this walk or do something more low-key. More... relaxing,” you suggested, smiling easily, calmly.

He could feel himself calm down. “Would it disappoint you if we just… I don’t know... ate some noodles over a glass of soju and beer?”

You giggled. “That would make me ecstatic.”

“Let me go call off the chef then.” He stood to his feet. “Thank you so much.”

You shrugged and beamed at him. “No biggie.”

In two minutes the chef came out of the kitchen, bowing at you while you still sat on the sofa. “Good evening. I wish you a good meal. I hope you’ll enjoy the food.”

“Thank you for your hard work! I’m sure I’ll enjoy it!” You replied politely and warmly, watching the man collect a bag from the entry room and bow to Hoseok as he accompanied him out.

“He had already finished cooking.” Hoseok exhaled. He looked ten years younger and significantly less stressed. “The meat had already been grilled, it just needs to be warmed up in the oven.”

“You mean there’s more food?” You asked, eyes wide in terror.

He started shaking his hands in equal fear. “We don’t have to eat that too. Maybe just a couple short ribs?” He wondered.

You stared at the rice and side dishes on the table. It was probably four times what you normally ate, and that was without considering his half of the table. “You have glass noodles?” You asked, and he nodded excitedly at your interest.

“With aubergines and mushrooms and pork belly?”

You felt your mouth water. “Can we have those though?”

He smiled excitedly. “The chef was stir frying the vegetables so we would have to finish that.”

You shrugged. “I can do that while you go get changed, if you’d like. Wear something fresh and cozy.”

He looked around nervously.

You immediately realised what was wrong. How could he let a stranger wander through his house? And he wasn’t just anyone. He was a celebrity. A famous person. What if he thought you would sneak through his private spaces and sell information about him to the press?

“Uhm—”

“Oh my god. No, it’s okay. Who would let a stranger stay in their home while they’re in the shower. Dumb me. Sorry.”

He blinked a couple times. “It's the first time I have invited someone in my house, except for my close friends.” He looked down and smiled, his cheeks shooting up in a complicated mix of sadness and joy. “I'm nervous because of that too.”

You nodded. “I know it could sound dumb to say but I care about you. And I'm not interested in gossip and press and all of that. I will respect you and your home. It's basic human decency,” you said, sitting next to him. “I only suggested you go get a change of clothes because that cannot be comfortable and I wouldn't be surprised if you wanted out of that.”

He looked up at you with big, soft eyes. “It would really be okay?”

“Yes, it would, Hobi.” You flinched at the nickname. “Hoseok. Sorry.” You wanted to tear your own tongue off.

However, just as much as you felt disappointed at yourself for the small slip, he felt warm about you calling him by a nickname. He wanted you to say it again. And again. And well… again but in other ways.

“I'll be back in five minutes, just to rinse off and get comfy.”

You nodded. “I'll wait here and then we'll get the noodles ready.”

Hoseok felt extremely relieved once he changed his clothes. The loose linen joggers felt like a soft cloud around his legs, air already circulating better against his skin. And the satin shirt made him feel classy and casual at the same time.

He was pleased at the comfort-looks ratio of his outfit and exited the room confidently. He was further reassured once he found you scrolling through your phone, sitting there innocently, smiling at him once you saw him appear.

“Okay, ready to go?” He asked, standing in front of you, all set to accompany you to the kitchen.

You nodded and took his hand as he helped you up. “Let’s go.”

He smelled amazing, like anise and patchouli. Something sweet and manly at the same time. It suited him perfectly.

Standing a bit too close after he tugged you up, you surreptitiously tried to sniff him, your eyes falling shut once the vaguely honeyed fragrance met your nostrils.

He observed you as you stood there, clearly entranced. Heat crept up his cheeks as your breath tickled down his neck: he was slowly becoming aware of your presence, of the warmth that your skin radiated, of the way a strand of your hair skimmed his arm.

“I like your perfume,” you whispered.

He felt his knees grow vaguely wobbly, a swoony, shy smile stretching his lips.

The moment you opened your eyes, you realised his face was just a few inches away from yours, his blush visible in high definition right before your eyes.

He looked so incredibly, adorably embarrassed. “Thank you,” he replied quietly, almost afraid of breaking the spell of the moment.

Your eyes met his, and for a second he hoped you would get on your tiptoes and kiss him, but you casually turned around and started walking away, turning to him only to ask about the kitchen.

Trying to keep his delusions on the low, he led you to the kitchen, where all you could see was the tidy chaos of creation.

A few bowls were piled neatly in the sink, together with lined up utensils. You let him show you the several drawers and cabinets, explaining where to find a frying pan for the vegetables, the noodles already cooked and marinated in the secret sauce the chef had prepared.

All he could do was stare as you easily made your way through the motions, the main dish of your meal ready to be served after a few minutes, the vegetables keeping a crispy texture while the noodles hit a chewier feel once you mixed the two together.

You set both on different bowls and offered them to Hoseok. “I’ll put a couple short ribs in the oven.”

He nodded and reached the dining table, frowning at all the food spread there in cups and plates and dishes and bowls.

His disappointment was short-lived.

“Don’t worry about it,” you murmured gently, completely incapable of keeping yourself from tracing his spine in between his shoulder blades.

You watched his back straighten, the glossy satin glimmering at the shift of muscles and tendons underneath.

You wanted to see that again. No shirt on, next time.

You shook your head and blinked rapidly, trying to awaken yourself from your fantasy.

He set the bowls down and you sat in front of each other, thanking for the food quickly before you started chatting about which food was where.

The meal went on calmly while you talked about your family, your job, and the pets you had visited during the day. At the same time, he explained some of the undercover dynamics of his job, like all the training and briefing and preparations necessary before interviews, photoshoots, or even something as basic as a public appearance where all they had to do was stand and look pretty for the photographers. He teased the theme of the Run episode they had just filmed — which was almost fifteen episodes ahead to the one that had just been aired.

You chit-chatted for a long while, your conversation resembling the sound of chirping birds thanks to Hoseok’s naturally melodic intonation of speech. He was lovely when he stumbled a bit over his words, the ridge of his ears scarlet with embarrassment once a slip of tongue had him making a lewd allusion you caught with a mischievous grin he couldn’t quite catch since your eyes were glued to the table; he had been too busy being ashamed of his freudian lapsus to actually notice that you had enjoyed the reference.

He was saved by the sound of the oven beeping, telling him that the ribs were warm and ready, which made him excuse himself.

He returned just a minute later with more soju and beer, asking if you were okay with the serving or if you were full.

The smell was so inviting you let him convince you.

No matter the large dinner and the several dishes, you managed to eat way more than what you thought, only a quarter of the table remaining untouched.

“Okay, maybe we could pack up the leftovers.” You suggested, standing up once your conversation hit a natural pause, comforted by the feeling that Hoseok no longer felt like a stranger to you.

You helped him, easily getting acquainted with his living room and kitchen. It felt nice to get gradually more independent, enough that you could easily help him up with the containers and that you could assist him with organizing the tupperware in the fridge.

It was all going okay until you were standing in front of the open fridge, ready to close it when his hand landed on yours on the handle, holding the door open. He leaned against your back, grabbing a paper box from the top shelf.

“Sorry,” he spoke quietly, all chirpiness gone.

Shivers propagated from your spine to your limbs, your brain suddenly struck by the feel of perspiration coating your inner thighs. You felt wet and you weren’t sure if it was sweat or actual arousal.

His perfume came in again once he stretched to reach the box.

Hoseok’s attention moved to the mole on your neck as you leaned your head against his shoulder. “Careful, it’s heavy,” he said, giving a quick look at your lashes, at the freckles peppered over your cheekbones, your face turned to the side, ready to nuzzle into the crook of his neck.

His hand was hot against yours, his back light and solid at the same time.

He parted from you, feeling disappointed with the fact that he had to move, biting his lip as his arm struggled keeping the box upright.

You caved slightly as cool air replaced the warmth of his chest, still feeling the phantom presence of his touch.

“Let’s go back to the living room.” He bit his lip, grabbing another bottle as you almost ran from him.

You weren’t okay with what was going on. Not one small bit. You were not okay with the idea of getting drenched and making a mess of yourself on the first date. You were even less okay with the idea of going back home and spending all night with your hand between your legs, thinking about the mind-blowing sex Jung Hoseok was most definitely capable of performing. With a body like that and years of pilates lessons, there was no doubt he could rearrange your organs as your legs and arms bent to accommodate him and please him.

You were even less pleased by the way you craved to satisfy him. You wanted to hear him moan and whine with his melodious voice. You wanted to hear the symphony of his pleasure, the sound of his cries, the smashing of skin against skin, and maybe the legs of the bed scraping against the floor, the headboard thudding against the wall.

You wanted his perfume on your neck, against your chest. You wanted your thighs to smell like him, the scent of your sex mingling with his cologne. It was primal and visceral and obscure and thrilling.

And then a sick side of you wanted to wake up all the neighbours, let them know he was living the night of his life. And since you could only hope of getting a second chance, you found yourself ready to use the night you’d been granted, if fate would allow you an in to the sinful heaven you were imagining.

After all, you weren’t even sure he still liked you.

As he sat in front of you, Hoseok observed your side profile while you stared out of the window, completely lost in your thoughts, your cheeks reddened because of the alcohol.

He was so whipped for you.

However, he knew the initial thrill would eventually fade and leave him with an adorable, beautiful young woman who could never own his heart or tend to his vulnerable side. It had happened so many times before that he was just waiting for his interest to die down.

Because right as he stared at your dreamy expression, he realised he would never lay a finger on you.

You were far too precious for him to sully you with his dirty paws and devilish ways.

With a sliver of sadness tainting his smile, he placed the cake in the middle, preparing two forks, one on your side and one on his.

“I’ve heard champagne is great with strawberries,” he commented, opening the bottle and awakening you from your daydream.

You blinked a few times. “Oh, just a little or I’ll end up dizzy,” you replied with a small smile. “This cake looks beautiful.”

“I hope you aren’t allergic to strawberries or dairy products,” he mused, lifting up his glass to clink it with yours. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” you repeated before answering his questions. “Luckily I don’t have any allergies. Usually I prefer eating fruit and vegetables, but I’m pretty cool with any kind of food.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Hoseok replied before realising he’d better never see you again. You were too tempting, too pretty, too gentle and overall too attractive for someone like him. Chances were you would be a bit disappointed but would find a proper date within the next two weeks. Women like you were far too requested and treasured in a city like Seoul.

You were suitable from head to toe. You had a degree, a job, a place to yourself, you were accomplished. And then your innocent looks, your kind manners, the caring side he had the fortune of catching a glimpse of.

You would be taken in less than three weeks. He could tell.

It was a mystery to him how you were still single after eight months in the city.

He found the courage to look up from the dessert, only to regret it immediately.

Your mouth was wide open in an attempt to chomp on a huge strawberry, your lips rosy, your nose smeared with cream.

I shall not.

I cannot.

I should not.

He paused.

Fuck. I will.

He placed down his fork and stood to his feet, your eyes following him as he came to your side.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, looking at his stone-cold expression.

You put your fork down, staring back at him with concern.

His hand moved tentatively to your cheek, laying gently along your jaw.

Turning to him, you stared some more, your chest inflating and deflating rapidly and deeply — which was not lost on him.

Too afraid to look, you closed your eyes as he leaned down his thumb moving closer to your mouth, parted as you found it increasingly difficult to breathe.

Your whole world was dark and hot once his breath fanned over your face.

With overwhelming desire coursing through him, Hoseok stared at every single detail, drinking you in with eyes so hungry, like he could swallow every freckle, every mole, every bit of plump flesh and bony edge.

With his hand trembling slightly at the strange position, he dragged his thumb against the tip of your nose, collecting the cream smeared there.

Your eyes opened in surprise at the unanticipated motion, meeting his lowered eyelids, his lovely lashes making an appearance against the fair skin.

And then his thumb met your lips, covering them in sweetness.

“You had cream on your nose,” he said, his eyes never abandoning the curves of your lips.

Jung Hoseok knew he was a sinner already. But with heartbreaking realisation, he knew the next action would deem his fall.

His tongue slipped out of his mouth, guided by a need so deep he could barely control. With the worst intentions, he focused on touching you as little as possible, trying to scoop up the cream caught on the gentle petals of your lips.

What he didn’t expect was for your own tongue to slide out and brush against his.

From there, it was only ruination.

His tongue slid in your mouth, catching on all the flavours of the dessert. It was strawberries. Strawberries everywhere; your freckles, your hair, your shampoo, your dress, he was possessed by them, drowning in a forest of strawberry bushes growing all over him, climbing into his mouth and underneath his clothes.

“Hobi,” you called weakly as he let you go, your body shooting up on your feet as you tried to chase after his mouth, tried to have his arms around you.

He moaned and caught you, placing his forearm against your lower back and holding your cheek with the other. “I’m so sorry, baby.” He placed a chaste kiss on your lips. “I promised myself I wouldn’t but you’re too hard to resist.”

You looked at him with pleading eyes, kissing his jaw, trying to reach the underside of his ear. “Please.”

You tried to calm your breathing by inhaling deeply through your nose, which in retrospective was an awful move since his scent filled your lungs and all you could do was whine in reply, the sound ridiculous and embarrassing to your own ears.

“I’ll do bad things to you, honey. We should stop now,” he said, trying to be judicious.

“Please,” you begged again, rubbing your face against his neck, already trying to cover yourself in his perfume. “Just a kiss, please.”

Closing his eyes, he gave in, following the line of your neck, the sweet mole at the base, drawing your throat with the inner side of his lips.

“Hobi…” You whined once more before receiving a gentle tug at your hair.

“I’m getting there, don’t be impatient,” he growled, making your neck stretch backwards. Once more his tongue slipped out, drawing a line from the hollow between your collarbones all the way to your chin, stopping at your lower lip. “If you’re patient you get a reward, see? That’s how it works with me, sweetheart.”

He kissed your mouth, first delicately, tentatively, trying to feel you open up and give in.

Once you did, he locked your face against his with the hand of his nape, following your body as you walked backwards, reaching the sofa.

“What do you want to tell me, my pretty strawberry?” He teased once he allowed you to let go of him.

“Thank you.”

It was not what he expected, but it made his stomach churn with longing. He needed to please you more, give you more, just to hear those words again.

“You’re welcome, honey. Now, tell me. What do you want me to do, sweetie?” He watched as you sat on the carpet.

You remembered how soft it had felt earlier under your knees. “I wanna make out?” You asked, lashes batting. You didn’t want to sound eager.

“Just make out?” He asked, sitting down in front of you. There was no way he would allow you to blow him tonight.

You looked at him with sparkly eyes. He wanted to dive into them, to feel the magic they held glow inside his body. “Am I allowed to ask for more?” You questioned with the sweetest pout.

“You can ask me anything, honey.” He skimmed the skin of your jaw with the back of his fingers before feeling the hot curve of your neck under his palm.

“Would you think ill of me if I asked for more?”

He shook his head and smiled softly. He would never think ill of you. Not even if you asked him to fuck you for a whole audience of connoisseurs to stare. “You're my cute, little strawberry. I could never think lowly of you.” He cooed.

“What if I wanted you to… to fuck me?” You asked, biting your lip nervously before looking at him.

He thought about the consequences for maybe half a second. He felt awful because, at the end of all the reasoning he knew he would hoard you and every single ounce of pleasure he could coax out of your body.

“Are you sure you want that?” He asked, letting his hand follow the path between your breasts, down to your waist gripping your side.

You licked your lips and nodded. “I'll be so good to you.”

His grin was outright evil. “I know you will, baby.” He kissed your temple. “I need to go get protection if that's what you want. I'll give you a minute to think about it and if you still think so when I'm back, then we're gonna deal with your needy head, mh?”

You nodded, staring at him as he stood up, incapable of not studying his crotch where his cock was visibly tenting his loose trousers.

He chuckled as he watched you stare. “It'll be yours if you still want it later.”

Your eyebrows raised in disappointment as you watched him leave.

So… it was actually going to happen. Did you want it to happen?

What a stupid question! Yes. Of course.

You wanted him and it scared you and thrilled you at the same time.

His footsteps reached the room once more, disappearing once his feet touched the carpet.

“Okay. Here we go, sweetie. Are you still sure you want to have sex with me?” He asked, kneeling and moving your hair off your face, your head reaching his sternum from your seated position.

“Yes, I'm sure,” You confirmed curtly. “Please.”

Oh, to hear you beg. He could cum from that alone. It was intoxicating. And he wasn't even touching you. He could only imagine what sounds you would make once his cock would fill your cunt.

“You want the bedroom—”

“Here. Please.” You shut your eyes tight. You felt like an animal, willing to fuck wherever, and the immense temptation of feeling the plush carpet underneath your back, the city lights illuminating his skin…

Hoseok inhaled.

You were wilder than what you looked and such information aroused him immensely.

“Lay back, honey.” He murmured, extracting three small squares of foil from his pocket and laying them on the coffee table.

Slowly, you lowered your back to the carpet while he kneeled close to you, your legs rotating so that your feet laid right in front of his knees, your legs bent and pressed together.

“That's nice, ____. Lovely,” he said before placing his hands on your knees. “Would you like to spread your pretty legs for me?” He asked, his fingers sliding down your thighs, reaching the hem of the dress.

You looked adorable once you demurely parted your feet to offer him some space between your knees, the hem of the dress moving closer to your lap.

His legs slotted between your thighs and he bent down, reaching for your face. “Such a good girl,” he praised you, cooing once he noticed your cheeks redden. “So adorable.”

On all fours on top of you, you felt the unique shape of his mouth draw your throat before giving a lick. “I bet you taste like strawberries all over.” He started kissing down your chest, rubbing his cheek against your small breasts. “You make me feel like a man starved,” he continued, kissing your stomach, your abdomen, laying one small peck on the fabric covering your belly button.

“Hoseok,” you whined, feeling his hands around your hips.

He stopped brusquely, his body entirely leaving yours. “Now, now, sweetie. What did you just call me?”

You batted your lashes as you stared at him in confusion. “Hoseok.”

“Okay. If you want to have sex with me, honey, that name will not do.”

You stared at him some more.

“I’m Sir,” he affirmed sternly. “The moment you get wet between your legs, I become Sir to you, understood?”

You nodded quickly, breath and brain completely stolen out of you.

“No nodding, my cute berry. Either ‘yes, Sir’ or ‘no, Sir’. Let’s try again. Is it clear what you must call me?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He grinned and kissed your belly again, just a bit lower. “That’s excellent. Well done, ____.”

You smiled and placed your hands on his hair, feeling the soft locks as he looked up at you.

He growled at that, your fingers naturally curling in fists as you brought them to your chest. “A very good girl indeed.”

You propped yourself up to your elbows once he lifted the skirt of your dress.

He could barely believe you. “Goodness.”

“At first I thought my dress was stuck on my underwear when you called me strawberry.”

Under the cutest, loveliest, most girlish dress he had ever seen, he was met by another adorable surprise. You were wearing a playful pair of ruffled panties in gingham print, with a small strawberry embroidered on your mound.

“You’re going to kill me,” he moaned, eyes closing before he dipped his head between your legs, studying the patch of wetness on the gusset of your panties, drawing a line from there to your clit, eliciting a moan. “You’re so sweet. And so evil at the same time.” He bit your inner thigh, making you wince. “Can’t believe that song predicted you on my carpet.”

You giggled and arched your hips against his face, your wetness meeting his cheek lewdly.

He inhaled you, completely intoxicated before he came back up, his arms caging your head. “You really rubbed yourself against my face, honey?” He asked with a stone cold expression.

You were afraid again, but that didn’t keep you pussy from clenching around nothing.

“Yes, Sir.” You replied, the respect in your voice nothing but a taunt.

“If you make a mess you gotta clean it, sweetie. Understood?” He asked, grabbing your face and angling his cheek to your mouth. “Clean it.”

“Please, Sir,” you mewled, trying to push your crotch against him, crying out once you noticed his body was too far away for you to find something to grind against.

“Clean after yourself. Now.”

You did as he told you, feeling the salty, bitter tang of your arousal transfer from his smooth skin to your tongue.

“All of it,” he muttered once you stopped after the first lick.

You completed your task, his pelvis lowering to yours as a reward. “There you go. Now thank me.”

Your arms moved around his torso, trying to get him closer, just to brush your chest against the soft, smooth satin of his shirt.

“I said, thank me.”

“Thank you, Sir.” You felt him cave immediately, giving you his hard and lithe body against your chest, your crotch, right in your arms as your legs wrapped around him. You felt crazy, grinding against him like a teenager, ridiculously reminded of how you used to go off by humping a pillow. “Please, inside,” you wailed, your sigh hitting his chest and disappearing underneath his shirt. Once you inhaled, his cologne felt like a bruising kiss, your hips meeting his harder, faster.

“You like my perfume?”

You nodded furiously.

Not again. He violently separated himself from you. “What did I tell you about replies?” He scolded you.

“I’m sorry, Sir.” You looked down with repentance. “I like your perfume very much, Sir.”

“That’s right. Good girl. Now, after I praise you, thank me.” He pushed your dress up as his hand dragged heavily from your crotch to your throat.

“Thank you, Sir,” you replied obediently, watching as he got on his knees and tugged his trousers down, the white boxers underneath surprising you as they outlined his length perfectly.

“You want it out?” He asked, watching as you sat up straighter and licked your lips.

You were almost ready to nod when you caught yourself, Hoseok smiling proudly once he saw you correct your behaviour. “I want it out, Sir.”

“Excellent.”

He lowered his underwear too, his cock standing erect immediately, it fluttered even straighter once you kept looking, your hands touching your breasts needily.

Hoseok stretched to the coffee table, grabbing a condom and tearing the foil open, sliding the latex on quickly and firmly.

“My cute berry, I need you to be very careful about this. You know what a safeword is?”

You shook your head. “No, Sir.”

He momentarily covered himself, needing to get all your focus on his words. “Safewords are what you use to communicate with your partner in a BDSM scene. A safeword means that you don’t like what is going on and you want to slow down or stop. We will use the traffic lights system. If you say ‘yellow’, I will slow down, if you say ‘red’, I will let go of you entirely and help you recover from whatever it was that hurt you, mentally, emotionally or physically. On the other hand, ‘green’ means that you’re okay and you are ready to get back into the scene after a ‘yellow’. If I ask you your colour, you reply with those. All clear?”

“All clear, Sir.”

He grinned proudly. “Then explain to me how it works.”

“If I want to slow down, I call ‘yellow’. If I want to stop, I call ‘red’. If I’m all good, I call ‘green’ — Sir.” You added for good measure, knowing that one too many wouldn’t hurt for sure.

“That’s my good girl.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

He smiled as he looked in your eyes. He knew he would remember you forever, even if he never developed any feelings for you. You were by far the most unique woman he’d ever had under him so far.

For a second he observed your cute, frilly undies, wondering if he wanted them off.

No.

He took his cock out of his underwear, letting the waistbands of his trousers and boxers rest on his mid-thigh.

“Wanna keep these pretty panties on.” He murmured once he laid on top of you. “Tell me if the elastic band hurts you.” He said, moving the gusset aside and testing your wetness with his fingers, spreading the slickness over your folds. “So fucking soft. Dammit. Can't wait.”

He dipped his head against your neck. “You want it?”

“Yes, Sir.” You placed your hands on the small of his back, his eyes closing as he relished in your touch.

“Beg for it.” He murmured, dragging the tip up and down your slit.

You rolled your eyes. “No, Sir.”

“You won't beg?” He asked, looking at you.

You pouted. “Why do you want me to beg?” You asked with a frown.

“I need to know you want me, my sweet berry,” he pouted back. He touched your face giving you a few kisses to convince you. “I want to hear your sweet voice saying 'please', just one more time,” he whispered, feeling merciful, especially after all the ways he had already pushed you.

Your will bent to his. “Please.”

And just like that, his tip entered your warm, tight cunt, a moan exiting his mouth. “Yes, yes, ____. Yes, baby,” he groaned, at which you responded with a mewl.

“Hobi…” You cried, squeezing around him once he bottomed out.

“Don't make me punish you,” he murmured, exhaling raspily. “You've been such a good girl. Don't get naughty.”

“Sir, please.”

He started snapping his hips out, slowly, then in again, one inch at a time, so deep and slow, over and over. “Yes, baby. Tell me how good it feels.”

“It feels too good, Sir, I'm…”

He hummed in pleasure, feeling the skin of your neck under his lips. “Too good. My berry, you're so tiny and tight.” His hips trusted in quickly and unexpectedly.

“Holy… Sir, please, again, please.” You squealed, feeling his thumb slide your panties further aside to reach your clit.

He breathed out with effort against your ear as your mouth reached his earlobe. “Fuck, not there, Berry. Not there,” he said, tugging his ear out of your mouth.

“But Sir—,” you tried objecting before his pace became irresistible. While one hand reached the crown of his hair, holding him against you, the other one met his glute, your nails sinking in his flesh. Your breath started coming in short hiccups, leading you to your climax as he outright hammered into you, his back curved away while his forehead stayed glued to your neck.

“Am I fucking you right, ____? Is it good enough for my golden girl?” He growled once he felt you tightening around him more intensely, with longer squeezes.

“It's perfect, Sir. Thank you, Sir,” you reacted readily, shaking your head as pleasure started overpowering you, trying not to hurt him.

“Cum, my sweet berry. Show me.”

The hiccups of your breathing started turning in tiny whimpers, then squeals.

You were ready to bury your head in the ground and never come back because you knew what would come next.

The squeals turned into an uncontrolled cascade of giggles. Giggles.

Hoseok picked his head up at the curious sound, only to see your palm covering your mouth in an attempt to bottle the stupid reaction.

Hoseok smiled through gritted teeth, going faster, harder, deeper now that he understood that the sweet gurgling laugh was due to your orgasm peaking.

He pinned your hand away from your face, basking in the desperate joy of your bliss before he felt himself ready to blow.

“I'm gonna slide out now,” he warned, making sure that your high had faded and your body laid limp and drained underneath him.

Your body relaxed against the carpet, your eyes closed, your lungs still working hysterically to give you back some oxygen after the ruthless fit of giggles. You whimpered once you felt him pull out.

“Look at me, honey,” he called, making you prop your upper back on your elbows as you looked down, only to be met by the sight of Hoseok slipping off the condom. “Let me cum on your cute panties, mh? Can I? I promise I'm clean, I can show you the—”

“Do it,” you replied, giving him official permission.

“Really?”

“Really— I mean, yes, Sir.”

He smirked and started pumping himself furiously, his expression frantic as his tip pressed to your mound and he came apart, his hot seed drenching the red and white cotton, an animalistic growl making his whole chest shake.

You welcomed him in your arms once he collapsed on top of you, right hand smeared in slickness. “I’m gonna call you Giggles.” He said, kissing your mole, the precise spot where he could feel your blood run underneath the skin, the hollow just under your earlobe. “It was the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.”

You felt your whole body blush. “It’s so stupid but I can’t stop it.”

“Don’t stop it, it’s adorable.” He sniffed at your hair, “you still smell like strawberries.”

“Must be my shampoo.”

“Fuck. So good.” He sniffed some more. “I thought it would kill me earlier, by the fridge.”

“I thought you would kill me.” You said, feeling his neck with your lips. “Your perfume might be aphrodisiac.”

“You’re too tempting.” He chuckled. “I might need another round.”

“I can’t believe you actually fucked me on your living room carpet.” You said, combing his hair as he still regained his energies.

“Aren’t you happy?” He asked, suddenly panicked.

“No, I mean. I’m… I’m really happy. I’m just… incredulous that this is happening to me.” You replied with a surprised laugh.

“Maybe I should give it another go to make sure you actually understand what’s happening.”

“Would you mind helping me understand on the dinner table?” You batted your lashes cutely and paired that with an angelic smile.

“Are you even real?” He touched your face with his clean hand, giving you an inquisitive look. “You appear, all cute and innocent and then you want me to get you all dirty and filthy?”

Your smile widened. “The other ones were a bit scared by this side of me.”

“I won’t be scared of your needs, Giggles.”

You blushed again and hid your face.

“No hiding,” he reprimanded before rolling on his side, leaving you some room to obey the orders he was about to give you. “Keep giving me those sweet giggles,” he said, tracing your belly with his fingertips before trying to tickle you.

The effect was immediate. You clenched your legs and slapped his hands away from you, the torturing sound parting from your lips in a series of childlike gurgles. “Stop! I’m gonna mess up!” You screamed, trying not to stain your dress or the carpet. “No! No! Wait! Yellow!”

At that he took his hands off you immediately, your body laying on your back breathless.

“You good, Giggles?” He asked, voice drenched with worry.

You nodded, still panting.

“Can I take your clothes off?” He questioned, watching you move your head in confirmation.

“Okay.” He looked at your dress, trying to find a zipper. “Should I—”

“Start with my underwear, please?” You asked, your breath laboured due to arousal rather than exhaustion.

He nodded and licked his lips as he slowly tugged your panties down, careful about keeping his release from touching the carpet or your legs. Once the garment unhooked from your ankles, he folded it carefully to keep the wet fabric tucked in.

“Kneel, Giggles.”

You followed his command blindly, watching as your hands slid up under your skirt and tugged your dress up, his palms meeting your ribs and dragging the fabric upwards, past your breasts, then up against your armpits and backwards to your shoulder-blades, slipping the the neckline past your head.

Dress off, he let it fall distractedly to the floor, his eyes going from your face, to your hair, to your nipples — sinfully rosy — following the line leading from your breastbone to your belly button. He kissed the first piece of skin that met his lips, someplace where his heartbeat felt like a drum, like the bass coming from an old boom box. It was so comforting in a way he barely understood.

He needed room to think. “Get on the table.” His voice was once more stern and distant, especially once you watched him grab the opened foil containing the tied up condom, then stand up and leave.

You followed his direction nonetheless, standing awkwardly by the table, watching the cake and stealing a strawberry since the orgasm had awakened a certain sweet tooth in you. You dipped the strawberry in cream and brought it to your lips, relaxing just a little after you heard the water run in the kitchen.

He was probably washing his hands.

You took you time licking up the cream, only to start chomping down on the incredibly large fruit right after. That’s when Hoseok appeared.

He was shirtless now, the garment dangling from his spindly fingers before he laid it neatly against the back of the couch. You stopped mid-bite.

“Oh, don’t let me interrupt your snack, go on, honey.” He licked his lips and gave you a steamy look before going to the table and pocketing the condoms left. “Is it good?” He asked, walking to stand right in front of you.

You felt slightly unnerved as he seemed completely indifferent to your naked body.

“Sit on the table,” he ordered

You frowned and hesitated.

At that, he let his hands hover over your hips. “Shall I help you with it?” He asked, giving you the chance to avoid his touch before laying his fingertips delicately on your skin. “Gimme a colour, Giggles.”

“Maybe yellow.” You bit your lip, insecurity getting the best of you.

He moved his hands to your face, suddenly turning comforting. “Quick tip, my pretty berry.” He caressed your face in a way that made you feel way too at ease. “If it’s a ‘maybe yellow’, then it’s a yellow. How can I help you, ____?”

Your real name made you come down to earth. You shook your head and looked away, Hoseok suddenly scared of having gone too far.

“I’m not comfortable with the way I let you control me, maybe.” Which was not entirely true. You were not comfortable with the way you craved his control after spending maybe four hours with him — including the afternoon he entered the vet studio with Mickey in his arms and a hopeless, lost look on his face.

“It’s all up to you, ____. I know it’s a cliché thing to say, but the answer is really within yourself. I can’t make you more comfortable with how you feel,” he said, still not even considering your nakedness in front of him.

In such a moment his indifference was welcome.

You looked down, your hands disappearing into your hair. Maybe this was the only night you were granted. Did you really want it to end already?

He did not touch you as you mulled over every option.

“I’m… I’m not— We’re technically strangers, I shouldn’t be trusting you like this, you shouldn’t be trusting me like this either, I mean this is all so— all so twisted and wicked and fast and—”

Hoseok was ready for reality to slap him across the face. He was ready for your regrets and you walking to your dress on the floor and cursing your messed up panties which you most definitely could not wear to go back home. He was ready for you to call what you did a mistake and say that there was no way for a woman like you to be with a man like him.

“My mind tells me I shouldn’t, but I want it so much.”

He lifted his eyes from the floor, finally finding the courage to meet yours.

“I’m sorry, that’s not true. I’m comfortable with the way you control me.” Slowly you took a step back, your ass meeting the surface of the table. “I’m just questioning what that means to me.”

He nodded. It explained a lot about your innocent, greedy approach to sex. You were exploring and you had found something you didn’t expect to even remotely consider.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head and sat on the table. “No, Sir.”

His eyebrows shot up before he regained his composure. “Colour.”

You allowed yourself to stare at his chest. He was so well-built. Harmonious. He looked like a painting. “Green. Very deep, dark green. Sir.”

He took a step closer. “Green?”

“Forest green. As green as a clover.” You felt his hand on your belly, dragging against your skin all the way to your throat, pushing you down as you lowered yourself on your elbows.

“If you feel uncomfortable emotionally or mentally speaking, you call a yellow. Please, promise me you’ll be very careful about it, Giggles. I care about your mindspace. It means everything to me.”

“I promise, Sir.”

He removed his hand from your throat and placed it against your cheek, placing a chaste kiss on your lips once he bent over you. “You’re talking to Hoseok right now, ____. Promise me you’ll keep an eye on how your mind’s doing. Promise it.”

You kissed him back, closing your eyes once his tongue caressed and molded against yours. Breathless, you parted from him. “I promise, Hobi.”

“I don’t want you to regret anything about tonight. It would break my heart, okay?”

Your eyes widened in surprise before you nodded. “I’ll take care. I promise.”

“Good girl. Now stay right there, lovely. Look what I got for you.” He found the cake, placed carefully away from your laying body. Skillfully, he dipped a strawberry in cream and brought it to your lips, dragging the tip of the fruit across them like lipstick.

He bent down and licked a fat stripe following the seam of your mouth, only to repeat the gesture once more; however, this time you let your tongue lash out and tangle up with his, the strawberry held away from you, trying not to catch it in your hair.

“Open up,” he commanded, pushing the treat past your lips, into your eager mouth. “Suck. Now.”

Your gaze became bubbly once more as you followed his lead, your cheeks sucked in at the pressure you were making with your mouth, the strawberry emerging completely clean from your mouth.

He smirked at the sigh, arching an eyebrow at the result. “You make it hard not to push my cock in your mouth.”

“Maybe that’s what I want you to do.” You raised an eyebrow right back at him, getting cocky.

“Not happening. I wanna hear that laugh again, Giggles.” Tentatively, he gave a small slap to your breast, surprising you and making you arch your back, gasping in pleasure. Your legs tightened around him, trying to clench your thighs shut at the feeling of arousal slipping out of your hole and sliding down to your behind. “And don’t you dare be a brat to me. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.” Your voice was squeaky once you managed to reply.

“Did you like it, Giggles?”

The treacherous sound escaped your mouth once more as you nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, Sir.”

You wondered if you would ever get tired at the reply. You doubted it very highly.

“Let’s see if you like this too,” he mused before pouring more champagne in a glass and dipping the strawberry in the wine. He fixed his stance between your legs. “Remember our safewords?”

You confirmed before he lifted the strawberry and let a droplet fall right in the middle of your chest, splashing heavy and wet on your skin. Cold too.

“I’m going to make you my dessert, my pretty strawberry. Remember? Strawberries go well with champagne, lovely.”

He let one more drop fall to your breast, your breath stopping completely at the coldness, Hoseok’s eyes amused at the sight of your nipple awakening and hardening, lengthening even. It became impossibly rosier as another drop fell.

It felt stupid not to repeat the same treatment to your other nipple, which responded twice as quickly now that arousal was abundantly flowing through every single inch of you.

The strawberry drew a neat line of champagne pearls from your belly, which you sucked in at the cold, all the way up to your neck — a line that Hoseok followed with his mouth, letting his tongue stretch out of the way whenever a droplet rolled out of place.

He let the strawberry fall into the glass, extracting the condoms from his pocket and placing them on the table before taking off the rest of his clothes. He tugged at himself a couple times, getting hard enough to wear a condom.

His hands were going to get dirty, therefore he had no other options than getting ready very quickly.

“Giggles?”

“Yes? I mean, yes, Sir?” You corrected yourself in a millisecond, not wanting to risk another delay in your pleasure.

“I’m going to get really dirty now, lovely. Would you be okay with showering here?”

You let your lashes flutter a few times before nodding.

He gave a curt nod in reply before wearing protection and letting his cock rub against your crotch. His body stretched over yours, his thumb collecting a dollop of cream and dividing it with his other thumb. You observed his movements attentively as his clean fingers laid against the side of your breasts and his thumbs landed on your nipples.

Your mouth opened silently once the sensation flowed in, his digits starting a rolling motion over your peaks, playing them in small circles that innocently reminded you of a joystick.

“Colour.”

“So, so green. Can I have a blue for mind blowing good.” You tried to pick your head up, letting it thud back down once his cock dragged perfectly against your clit, eliciting a purr from your throat and a groan from his, his sex perfectly sandwiched between your and his belly.

“Blue— I— ” He talked in small babbles and hiccups. “I get what you— ah— what you mean.” His forehead met your collarbone.

He found unspeakable strength and managed to rise from your breasts, collecting half a handful of cream spreading it over his entire palms and fingers like lotion before grabbing your breasts and kneading them, his hands dwarfing them entirely.

“Sir, please, I need your cock,” you found yourself ridiculously begging, ready to hump anything that met your core.

“Slip it in for me, Giggles.”

The moment he got inside, you didn’t even try to keep it down, riding him no matter the difficult position or the awkward angle. You let your hands scratch down his chest and grip his arms — and he allowed you.

You were getting more and more unhinged and he wanted to see every little detail, every little second, every single step that brought you to bliss and ruination, giggling like you’d never been half as ecstatic in your life. His hands slipped and groped your gentle curves, his mind growing hazier by the second.

All his control came back once he noticed your legs leaving the ground, as you scooted back just by a few inches, your calves latching behind his back before you shook your head.

“What?” He asked, bending his arms to get closer to you.

“Position. It’s…” The soles of your feet met the edge of the table, your hands securing your legs in position before you felt your hips hurt.

“Bend them to your shoulders,” he suggested, helping you fix your knees with his elbows. “Good. Can you touch yourself for me, Giggles.”

You obeyed without even replying, feeling him groan as the new position allowed him to reach deeper and rub your g-spot in the process.

That’s when the squealing started. And then there it was, pleasure. Right before you.

“Give me all the giggles, my sweet berry,” he cooed, nodding and smiling once the soft laugh started.

He let himself grow wild, his fingers sliding to your neck, gripping it gently before he led them against your chin and into your mouth, bathing your tongue in cream — or rather, what was left of it.

The other hand secured your waist, using it for leverage as he rammed into you, pushing his cock in your cunt, constricting it after the muscles remained tense after the orgasm.

This time he came inside you, still covered in latex, but inside you.

He was too fucked out to think of how you would feel without a condom, too fucked out to care that he was pressing his mouth — fuck, his entire face — against your dirty chest, getting his hair sticky with cream, his cheeks and chin and nose and eyes and forehead… His mouth welcomed the sweetness, sucking at your skin before his tongue came out to lap at the sugary mess. He was too lost to care, sinking deep and staying perfectly still as he enjoyed every second of his high inside your most intimate place.

You came to your senses just in time to watch him process the situation he was in.

“Oh, hell.” He rose from the table, standing up, looking at you, at his hands, running the back of them against his cheeks before shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter.” He settled down again, your legs wrapping around him.

“Are you okay?” You asked him, rubbing your palm against his spine.

He hummed in confirmation. “Are you?”

“Yeah.” You mussed up the hair at his nape.

He licked up your nipple, catching it with his lips and suctioning it into his mouth.

You closed your eyes and enjoyed the cuddles. From the exhaustion radiating from his body and the overall disaster you both were, you knew your night was over.

“Can I go clean up please? It’s getting chilly.” You asked, using the excuse to get some space to yourself.

He stood slowly, slipping out of you attentively. He took off the condom, completely lost in his silence, knotted it up and kept it carefully between his fingers as he slipped on his underwear. “Let me show you the bathroom.”

Once he showed you the way, you let him understand you didn’t want him to shower with you.

Feeling the scent of his body wash cover your skin was painful now. You tried to indent the name in your mind and hoped it wasn’t too expensive. Once you managed to exit the shower stall, you dabbed your body dry, realising too late that you hadn’t brought your dress with you.

You wrapped the towel around you and opened the door, walking out once you were sure you wouldn’t drip over the floor.

“Hoseok?” You called.

Once you reached the living room, you found your dress, slipping it on and realising a second too late that your panties had disappeared.

“Giggles?” Hoseok appeared from the corridor, still shirtless, with a pair of bermuda on.

“Uhm… I should… Go, I guess?” You said, staring at the floor awkwardly. “I…”

Hoseok felt fear grip him once he thought this could be the last time he would see you.

“Wait. I—” He stretched his hand toward you. “I think— Uhm, underwear. Since I messed up yours.” He rubbed his nape. “I could wash your… panties and return them to you… Next Friday?” He looked up at you with a sheepish smile. “Over fried chicken and a chill dress code?”

Your cheeks shot up as you felt yourself smile. “So this is not a one time thing?”

“Absolutely not.”

You nodded, increasingly convinced.

You gingerly wore his boxers, noticing they were relatively comfortable on you, the cotton breezy and light, definitely soft over your abused skin. “Then I’ll return these on Friday. Over fried chicken and chill dress code. And maybe my peach frilly undies?”

“It’s a deal then, Giggles.”

“Deal.”

#jung hoseok x reader #hoseok x yn #hoseok smut #jhope smut #thetruthuntoldnet #houseofddaeng #bangtansorciere #thebtswritersclub

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asexualbuthorny · 3 years

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Hey I'm back at it again with uncalled for and unwanted opinions on fictional characters. This might be long and entirely just word womit but this my blog and I do what I want.

The fandom I chose to desecrate today is Twisted Wonderland. Let's begin!

Heartslabyul:

Riddle Rosehearts. Love the boy. He a little too strict for me tho. Livin by the rules feels kinda like living on a schedule and I don't vibe with that. Baby has issues. He needs therapy more than he needs a relationship(simps sit down). Would not date him. Good friend material. He just needs to relax a little.

Trey Clover. He's the brother I never had and the father I wish I had. I bet he gives top tier hugs. Would go to him for advice. Would not date him 'cause he's dad. Want him to adopt me. Lovely boy. Very responsible and sensible. Trust him without doubt (daddy kink havers dni /j).

Cater Diamond. Suspishis. I don't know what he's thinking. Cannot trust. Good boy nevertheless. Probably has some issues. Im not a fan of social media so Im not with the whole magicam thing or whatever. Very pretty. Deserves more love. And hugs. Would not date. Good friend material pt.2

Ace Trapolla. More like crappola. Stinky bastard man. If I was there he wouldn't have kneecaps. Would throw hands. Annoying. Needs to get beaten up and put in his place. If he said shit to me I would throw his ass out a window. Would not date. Hardly a friend.

Deuce Spade. Wonderful boy. Sweet angel. Love him. Best boy! Best boy! Best boy! Has my heart. Would trust him. He may be dumbass but I vibe with him. A personal favourite. Would date. Would marry. We could raise chicks together. Dream boy. My heart is filled with love when I think of him. 10/10. A good friend and a potential lover.

Savanaclaw:

Leona Kingscholar. DISGUSTANG. STINKY. AWFUL BASTARD MAN. Leona simps get help. This man smells like pee. Lazy. Can't do shit by himself. I don't know if he's aware but if he wasn't royalty nobody and I mean NOBODY would deal with his shit. And his attitude like cool you can always fail and get held back 'cause you have daddys money and can go back home and live with your parents your whole life but not everybody has that kind of priviledge. That kind of ungratefulness just make my brain angry. Would not date. Not a friend. Would not deal with his shit. Throw hands on sight.

Ruggie Bucchi. Sneaky. Needs money. I understand Im broke too. Don't have much to say about him. Doesn't occupy much space in my head. Would not date. Hard to trust. May be a friend. He would probably rob me. Disrespectfuly.

Jack Howl. Good boy. Deserves the best. Very responsible and has a good sense of justice. A little too serious. Calm down. Tsundere. Want to pet them ears tho. Another best boy! We can all agree that he's a favourite among the fans. Would not date. Very good friend.

Octavinelle:

Azul Ashengrotto. Shady. Not trustworthy. Responsible. He runs a restaurant while being a top student. I can respect that. Very smart. Insecure. Don't worry bb we all been there. I like him. But he's still bastard. But like less. Idk. Would date but barely. Maybe a friend. Again barely.

Floyd Leech. Crazy mf. His simps are masochists I don't take critisism. He would fold us all like lawnchairs. Don't think about him much. Not my cup of man. I like his voice tho. Kinda cute. Can't trust tho. Would not date. Friend but very carefuly.

Jade Leech. Scary. This man knows things. Sells your secrets on the black market. Polite. Dangerous. Not much to say abt him. His simps rub me the wrong way. Would not date. A person I know from school but not a friend.

Scarabia:

Kalim Al Asim. Very friendly. Sunshine boy. Lively child. Very naive. I would fool him for the lols. Give him many hugs. I don't like parties so we wouldn't vibe on that. He could teach me new games. Rich boy. Probably buys his friends expensive shit and thinks it's a small present. Could date. Makes a better friend tho. Take me on a magic carpet ride pls.

Jamil Viper. Sneaky pt.2. Can't trust after the shit he pulled. Can forgive but not forget. He's a lot smarter than he looks. Even if already looks smart. Can cook so that's a plus. Big respect to people that can cook. He would fool me for the lols. I would fall for it every time. He knows things. Sells your secrets pt.2. He wants to break free. Would not date. Friend but very very carefuly.

Pomefiore:

Vil Schoenheit. We would not get along. Im very live and let live and he sticks his nose in other people buisiness. I don't care how I look and he's very aesthetic oriented. He would call me ugly. I would call him a bitch. We would throw hands on sight. Argue every day. I would hide and defend Epel from him and his bullshit. He's dedicaded to his thing and has a succsesful career so I can respect that. But he still a bitch.

Rook Hunt. Don't trust him. He's french. Creepy. Poor beastpeople tbh. Can't say much about him. I bet he writes superb poetry tho. 10/10 would listen. Would compliment me. Don't know if genuine. Would not date. Decent friend tho.

Epel Felmier. Arson buddies. Commit crimes together. Call Vil a bitch toghether. He wants to be buff and I can get behind that. He could beat my ass and I would let him. He's kinda like a little brother who you teach how to get away with murder. We would beat everones ass. Good boy. Best friend. Would not date. We would rule the school.

Ignyhide:

Idia Shroud. I could beat his ass. Wouldn't tho. Not worth it. Incel. Gets zero pussy. Probably stinky. Would still try to befriend. Bully him lovingly. Gatekeeper. Anxiety. Me too tbh. Not much to sqy about him. Roast marshmellows on his head. Would not date. Could be a friend.

Ortho Shroud. A child. We could be friends. I would teach him swearwords. Good boy. Don't know much about him. Friend material.

Diasomnia:

Sebek Zigvolt. Why he so damn loud? Like calm down boy. Still very good and dedicaded. Could not be in relationship 'cause he has other things on his plate. Tries to be responsible. Still a disaster dumbass. Love the boy. Would not date. Good friend.

Silver. Don't know much about him. Like what are you hiding sleepyheadass? Seems like a nice good boy. We could take hella naps together. Would not date. Befriend him.

Lilia Vanrouge. Dad/grandpa vibes. Would take care of me while Im sick. I would get poisoned by his cooking. HE GIVES THE BEST HUGS YOU CANNOT CHANGE MY MIND. Father I wish I had pt.2. Trickster. Would tease me. I still love him. Welcom to the fam. Would not date because him grandpa.

Malleus Draconia. THIS MAN. Im looking respectfuly. Gorgeus. Beautiful. Stunning. My husband. Give him love and hugs and kisses. I would marry this man. My sunshine my starlight. Im such a simp for him. Who wouldn't want a cool dragon husband. He owns my heart and my ass. 100000000/10. Would die for him. Bestest boy. My love please come to me.

Wwwaaaa this was long. I might post something strictly about relationships if I feel anything again some time soon.

#twst #Twisted wonderland #heartslabyul #savanaclaw #octavinelle #pomefiore #ignyhide #diasomnia #Im too lazy to tag all the characters so ya get what ya get #my post

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nashibirne · 3 years

Text

Painkiller - 2

Here is the second part of Painkiller. Enjoy and let me know what you think!

You can find the first part here: Nashi's Masterlist

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC (Ella) Summary: Boy meets girl...in this Chapter they get to know each other a little better Warnings: Mentioning of body issues (slim OFC), smut in upcoming chapters but not yet Unbeta'ed. English is not my first language, so there might be mistakes/bad grammar/wrong spelling Credits: I took the pictures for the moodboard from Pinterest, for Katie I chose a pic of the lovely Nicola Coughlan. The "back pic" is from Pinterest too. If I violate any kind of copyright, please let me know.

Tags @hell1129-blog @lunedelorient @willkatfanfromasia @mis-lil-red @inlovewithhisblueeyes @agniavateira @omgkatinka @legendarywizarddetective @summersong69

Here we go!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ping!

Ella froze when she heard the tone of her WhatsApp notifications. It was almost noon and though she'd never admit it, she'd been waiting to hear from Henry since the moment she'd opened her eyes in the morning. Hoping it was him, she took her phone and read the message.

Hello, Ella. This is Henry...the guy with the hard blow from the party last night.

Did he really think he had to remind her of who he was? That was damn cute.

I hope you're feeling better. I know I sound like a broken record but I can't say it often enough. I'm really, really sorry for hurting you.

...

Hey Henry. Thanks for checking on me. I'm much better, no headache anymore. No harm done, so I can easily forgive you.

....

He answered immediately.

That's a big relief! Has your brother already examined the bruise? Are you sure it's not a concussion and nothing's broken?

....

Yes, Alex stopped by on his way to work. I'm fine, just have to take it slow for the rest of the weekend. That's it. It looks much worse than it actually is.

....

Meaning I gave you a huge shiner?

...

Yeah... It's quite impressive. Wanna see?

....

Absolutely! Videocall?

....

Sure!

Videocall! Ella didn't see that coming. She had planned to send him a selfie. Video Call...before she was able to get into a panic her phone rang and she touched the green button to take the call, her heart racing like crazy. Henry's ridiculously handsome face with the friendly blue eyes and this very pretty nose, appeared on the screen instantly. She smiled at him sheepishly, suddenly very aware of the fact that she looked like shit with her bruise, without any makeup and with uncombed hair.

"Gosh, Ella....that looks bad. I can't believe you didn't pass out after that hit." he said horrified and ashamed at the sight of her bruised eye. His beautiful deep voice sounded hollow through the speakers of her phone. "Yeah...I know. But I'm the youngest of four. I'm able to take a lot of knocks." She laughed. "I feel terrible about this." he said, sounding serious. "Please don't, Henry. It was an accident and I'm fine. I can cross off 'having a black eye' from my bucket list now. So I guess I have to thank you for this." She winked into the camera. Henry chuckled. "You're welcome. And to be honest...it suits you, the dark blue and violet match your beautiful green eyes perfectly and you're still incredibly pretty." "Oh...thanks." His words took her by surprise and she knew she was blushing which made her feel self-conscious. Her short answer to his compliment was followed by a long pause and Henry wondered if he had been too straightforward or too awkward. He wished he was just half as good at flirting as everyone considered him to be. "What about your back?" Ella said hastily to keep the conversation going. "My back is fine." "Really? You can be honest with me." "Really. I swear. Only a light red trace. It hardly hurts, it's really nothing serious. I can send you a back pic later." Henry grinned. Ella almost choked on the tea she was just sipping. Back pic - dick pic. The association hit her hard and of course she blushed like a shy wallflower. Again. It had always been like this. Her pale skin turned red for the most trivial reasons. Even at school when the teachers called on her she used to blush. And there was nothing she could do about it. She hated it. Coughing she gave Henry a funny look and he cursed internally for obviously making her feel uncomfortable with his stupid remark. Back pic, really, dumbass?

"Umm...yeah...why not. But maybe you still should put some ointment for burns on it." "Well...this is going to be a problem. I'm not that flexible. I doubt I can reach that area of my back and Kal won't be able to help." Henry replied, smiling. "Kal?" Ella was irritated. Who's Kal? His boyfriend? Oh my god. Is he gay? Am I making a complete fool of myself? "My dog. He's a clever boy but he can't do that." Henry laughed. "Oh. I see..." Ella let out a relieved snort. "Maybe your girlfriend can help you." She knew her attempt to find out if he was single was both obvious and pathetic. "I don't have a girlfriend." He said calmly, looking directly into the camera. "If I had, I wouldn't be chatting with you, clumsily trying to flirt, making you feel uncomfortable." He added with a shy, apologetic smile. Flirt? Ella was speechless for a moment. She started fiddling with her fingers, nervous all of the sudden. Good heavens...Henry Cavill is trying to flirt with me. "That's good to know. And you're not making me uncomfortable. On the contrary." she said softly, smiling back at him.

Henry didn't really know how to go on with the conversation but he didn't want their chat to end so soon either so he tried to change the subject. "That's an impressive pile of books there right behind you." "Yeah...when you take work home with you...you know how it is." Ella grinned, turning around, giving the book on top a gentle tap. "Work? What do you do for a living?" "My sister and I run a little bookstore-cafe." "What's that? A bookstore and a cafe at the same time?" "Yeah, exactly. Like an ordinary bookstore but we also sell coffee, tea, cake, muffins and sandwiches and stuff." "Wow, that's cool. Downtown London?" "No. On the outskirts. In Uxbridge." "Is that where you live?" "Yes, I live in the flat above the store. What about you? Notting Hill? Belgravia?" "Kensington." Henry said laughing. "Of course." she joined in with a smirk. "Must be nice living there. Quite fancy I guess. Tell me all about it." And that's what he did.

Their easy going and very funny chat was interrupted by a ring at Ella's door a few minutes later. Ella made a face, giving Henry an apologetic look. "That must be Katie, my sister. I told her what happened and she promised to supply me with some food. I hope for pizza and ice cream but I bet it's broth and fruits." She rolled her eyes. Henry's rumbling laugh echoed through the speakers. "Well, I better say good bye then, before her sisterly revenge hits me." A second and a third impatient ring. "Yeah. We better say goodbye. It was really good to talk to you Henry. Thanks for checking on me. And thanks for trying to flirt with me." She gave him a sweet wink and managed to blush only a little, her cheeks turning light pink. "You're welcome, Ella. It was my pleasure." "Bye." she said and the screen of his phone turned black.

It was my pleasure? What's wrong with you, Cavill? Henry asked himself after the end of the call. He let his head sink down on the table top of his desk. You're welcome? That really sounded smug as fuck. Not smooth, not witty....just smug and arrogant. Like he was doing her a favour by flirting with her. Your compensation for a huge black eye? Henry Cavill being socially awkward, trying to flirt clumsily for 15 minutes straight. Jackpot. You're welcome!

"I'm an idiot, Buddy." He said, sighing, turning to Kal. "I didn't even manage to ask her out on a date."

****

When Ella opened the door her sister swept into the room with all the vigour that was so typical for her. With her 31 years of age Katie was only 14 months older than Ella and she was the exact opposite to her. Where Ella was tall and lean, Katie was short and voluptuous. Well, Katie herself called it fat but Ella had always considered her sisters curvy bodily features pretty and enviable. She had the boobs and the butt Ella had prayed for throughout her puberty. She'd waited in vain for some curves to grow. She hardly needed an A cup and her hips were anything but round. "Don't be ungrateful." her sister said whenever Ella raised the topic. "You can eat as much as you want without gaining weight, you don't need a bra and you'll never have saggy boobs. And your ass is crisp like an apple. I would kill for a body like yours." It was hard to see it that way for Ella, when she had been called a twig and worse throughout her schooldays. "You have to eat, Darling, if you ever want to find a husband. You're thin as a rake." her late grandmother used to say with a deep sigh whenever she saw her granddaughter. The problem was, Ella did eat. A lot actually, but she never gained weight, though she really wanted to. Her ex Craig used to call her Twiggy and she'd hated it.

"Why did it take you so long to open the door?" Katie asked, placing a big bag on the kitchen table, running a hand over her round belly. She was six months pregnant with her first child. She turned around with a worried look on her doll-like face, that was framed by wavy, blonde hair. Katie had the same big green eyes like her sister but her face was heart-shaped with a sweet little nose and plump lips. A stark contrast to Ella's oval features with the grecian nose and the wide mouth. "Are you really ok? Alex said you'll be fine but you look a little flushed." "No, no...I'm good. I was just on a video call with Henry when you ringed." "Henry Cavill, huh?" Katie wiggled her eyebrows. "Yes. Can you believe it?" Ella giggled, feeling like a schoolgirl. "Hardly. I mean, how did you -Isabella Marianne Jacobs- manage to get into a close combat with Superman. Literally." "I really don't know. I went to this party with Jax and I sit at the bar hoping to maybe catch a little glimpse of Geralt of Rivia and the next thing I know is I almost get knocked out and the guy who makes me see stars is Henry fucking Cavill in person."

Katie laughed out loud, shaking her head in disbelief. She started unpacking the bag, placing various boxes on the table. "I made you some broth and here are some apples and pears and some oat cookies." "Broth, Katie? Really? I'm not sick." "A nice, tasty vegetable broth is good for anything." "Yeah...sure." Ella made a face. "But I was hoping for some food for the nerves. Chocolate, crisps, ice cream and lasagna or pizza for example." "Why?" Katie grinned. "What's wrong with your nerves? Did your little chat with Henry shake you up?" "Very funny." "Why did he call you in the first place?" "He wanted to make sure I survived his punch. He's really a decent and nice man." "And the simple question if you're okay, left you so flushed?" Once again she was an open book to her big sister. "He flirted with me, Katie!" Ella blurted out, turning tomato red. "Oh my god. How? What did he say? Spill it."

Ella gave her sister a little summary of their conversation, including all the details. Katie was not only her sister, she was her best friend besides Jax and there was no need to leave something aside. "Awww...this is so romantic." "Romantic? I don't know...maybe he was just trying to make me feel better. He has a reputation to lose." Ella was sceptical. "Nonsense! If it was an act he would have been much smoother, don't you think? After all he's an actor. He knows how to pretend a flirt." "And you really think a man like him isn't a smooth flirt in real life?" "Well, he obviously is not. Even famous people can be shy or insecure, Ella." "Yeah, sure..." "Do you think he's really going to send you that....back pic?" Katie grinned. "I hope so." Ella answered sniggering. They kept talking about Henry for a full hour, giggling and laughing. Ella felt like a teenager again, drooling over her newest crush.

After her sister had left, Ella was sitting on her couch, eating her broth, thinking about Henry. Was it really possible that he was interested in her? And maybe even more important, was she seriously interested in him? Sure, he was incredibly handsome and attractive with an interesting personality. Of course it was flattering that he flirted with her and of course it boosted her ego. But what if he'd really ask her out. Would she say yes? Was she ready?

She hadn't dated anyone since she and Craig had decided to split up and go separate ways a year ago and she wasn't sure if she was okay with getting emotionally involved with somebody again.

A few months ago she had kind of a fling with Jackson's older brother Hunter. It was something she used to call friends with benefits, Hunter preferred the term fuck buddies, Jax called it booty calls. Whatever it was, it was strictly physical and it had come to an end when Hunter had to move to Berlin for a job. She was sad when he had to leave because the sex really had been great. He had shown her a side of physical love she'd never known before. Her sex life with Craig had been okay. Not more, not less. The usual stuff, mostly vanilla and it had been satisfying, she'd never asked for more. But Hunter was anything but Vanilla. He had awoken this naughty, dark side of Ella, taking her sexuality to the next level.

The sound of an incoming WhatsApp message interrupted her thoughts. She took her phone and saw it was a text from Henry. Her heart skipped a beat when she started reading.

Hey Ella, here's the promised piece of evidence.

Ella gasped when she saw the picture of Henry's bare back that was taken in front of a mirror. This man was built like a greek god. But he was right, there was only a light burn along his spine. A light red trace that didn't look too bad.

Thanks. Looks good. That's a relief.

Just seconds after she'd sent her answer her mobile rang. Henry. Now her heart started racing.

"Hello?" "Hey, it's Henry again." "Yeah, I know. Hi." Ella was glad it wasn't a video call this time because -of course- she was blushing again just for the sound of his voice. "What's up?" "Well, I just wanted to say how much I enjoyed our chat earlier. And I was thinking and wondering if you might want to talk to me again and if you maybe even want to see me again...all of me. Not only my back. And...yeah...what I'm trying to ask is if you would go out with me. On a date." "Um...yes...sure. That would be nice." Ella said without hesitation. Seemingly her brain had erased all doubts about dating someone from her mind successfully. "Really? Okay. Great! So what about dinner on Saturday? Gonna pick you up at seven?" "Saturday it is." Ella said. "Where do we go?" "What about Italian?" Henry suggested. "Oh yes. I love Italian food. There are a few good restaurants here in Uxbridge." Henry hesitated for a moment. "I'd rather take you to a place I know in Notting Hill. It's really nice and cosy." "Ok. Great. Do I have to dress up?" "Well it's not the Ritz. It's sophisticated but not too fancy. You're going to like it." "Good. I'm gonna text you my address."

~~~~~~~~~

tbc

#henry cavill #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fan fiction #henry cavill x ofc #friends to lovers #slow burn

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ac3id · 4 years

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Redamancy. iii

Redamancy (n.) The act of loving in return.

pairings: mirio togata x female reader

warnings: 18+, noncon, yandere themes, breeding kink n mirio is a scumbag.

a/n: ahaha im reposting this cus algorithm was effed the first time i posted. ehehehe or maybe im just unlucky-- n e way this will be the last of redamany!!

word count: 1950

navigation ☼

← part i, ii

Mirio's gaze turned to you, sky blue eyes stared at how you sipped on your drink. Your glossy, pink stained lips puckered around the straw. Was that a new shade? You had never put something like that on before. Probably tasted like strawberries or cherries, "Mirio!" your voice drove him out his thoughts. You stood in front of him, your hands at your hip, "What are you thinking about?" Mirio felt his cheeks heat up.

'I was thinking about you sucking my dick, do you mind?'

"Nothing, we should get going. Lunch's bout' to get over soon." He grabs your wrist and pulls you towards the school building, you almost trip over your feet, "Hey! Slow down!" You bump into his chest which was hard as rock making your head sting a little, "You're a klutz," he laughs. "It's your fault!" you retort, he pats your head and continues laughing. He takes a good look at you, drinking your uniform clad body. The short skirt displaying your plush thighs. His mind melts away in sinful thoughts, thinking about all what he can do to you. He once again realizes how much smaller you are compared to him. His entire hand can literally cover your face, he can easily pick you and throw you over his shoulder.

What is stopping him? Seriously?

His smile drops when he catches you staring at him. The guy he beat up months ago and threatened to stay out of your life. You were staring at him chatting away, giggling with some nameless girl. He studied your sully expression, your eyes looked sad, and lip turned into a sad pout; he could tell you were upset and that pissed him off. Why did you still think about him? Why did you still care about that jerk? Didn't you move on yet?

Mirio felt himself get riled up from the same rage he had felt the first time he had seen you with this man. The frustration, anger, and jealousy all came surging back to him as he realized that you obviously did not feel the same way about him as he did about you. Maybe he'll have to do more than just be nice to get you to understand he's the one for you, the one and only.

He would show you who you belong to. You will get what is coming.

"Hey, what's wrong? You coming?" His hand rested on your shoulder, he gripped on it a little tighter.

Mirio walked into an empty classroom which echoed soft sobs and sniffles. You sat on your seat, your head resting on the desk as you cried. Mirio's face paled and he rushed to you, wrapping his arms around you pulling your upper half to his chest he rubbed your head. "It's okay now, I am here," he whispered into your ear, shushing you. "What happened?" he asked after you had calmed down.

"Why are you still here?"

"I came to get you, now, what happened?" you gulped before answering, feeling the lump in your throat rise as your voice cracked. "Why?"

Mirio was confused, what were you on about? "Am I not good enough? Why did he leave me?" tears roll down your cheeks, lip trembling your breathing turns uneven. Mirio frowns, his hands clenching into an fist he pulls away from the hug.

You were thinking about him, obviously. He moves in front of you grabbing your jaw, his big fingers squish your tiny cheeks. Your eyes widened in horror as he pulls your face closer to him, his elbows resting on the desk separating the two. He looks down at you, his eyes bored into yours with malice, "Mirio you're-" "Shut the fuck up." he snapped.

"You want to know why he left you? Why did your precious little pretty boy leave you?" you were too scared to answer, you didn't get to anyways since he blurted the out the answer in burning rage "Because. I fucking told him to stay away from you. Got it?" Your eyebrows knit together and tears pricked at the corner of your eyes, in a blink on eye he had become so different. He had snapped, you felt betrayed. The Mirio you knew would never be this rough with you, but maybe you were to blame. Deep down you knew. You were very much aware. Mirio liked you even after your breakup but you never asked, thinking it was better that way but not in a million years did you ever think that Mirio would snap and come for your soul.

"I fucking beat him up. You know why I did that?" he asked again. His voice was menacing, he was shouting at you and you were scared. "Answer me! You fucking ungrateful bitch!" You flinched and started whimpering, a weak no left your trembling lips, "It's because you're mine." he spat, he waited for you to say something but you were still trying to process his words. It was a lot to take in, you couldn't believe that Mirio would ever do something like that. You wanted to think this was a joke but no, he was dead serious.

The ray of sunshine, the great hero to be, Mirio Togata was a scumbag, no. He was worse.

You started releasing the situation you were in, there was no doubt, he wouldn't hesitate to hurt you too. The flight or fight instinct kicked in and you tried to free your face from his grasp. After successfully freeing yourself from his chains you got up from the desk and made a run for the door. Mirio stared at you in disbelief, his eyes wide and lips curled upwards he internally laughed at your foolishness. Wasting no time, he quickly got behind you capturing your wrist and pulling you back to his chest. A large hand wrapped around your waist, keeping you securely pinned to his torso.

You were so stupid. Did you seriously think you could get away from him? He is twice your size.

"Where are you going?" he pulled both your hands behind your back and held them there with one hand, the other snaked down under your skirt, "Mirio don't do this. I won't tell anyone. Please let me go." you begged your voice shaky as big, fat teardrops rolled down your cheek. "What will you tell them? They won't believe you and besides," his fingers inched towards your core, you squirmed and wailed. His fingers rubbed against your clothed slit, pressing against your clit sending shameful jolts of pleasure throughout your body. "I will scream," you whispered before breaking into soft sobs. He was going to rape you in your own classroom and there was nothing you could do against it. With no quirk to protect yourself, you knew physically overpowering him was a dream. You just prayed that he would leave you.

"You're gonna' scream?" he scoffed, his tone was cocky- ridiculing you. "Go ahead, scream," his fingers rubbed harder against your clothed cunt as he waited for you to scream. The scream never came and Mirio started, "You're getting wet down here, you know. You like this?" pushing away your panties to the side, he let his finger graze over your sensitive folds a content sigh following right after. "You're really wet. I think I can just slide it in."

He dipped two of his fingers into your cunt while rubbing your clit with his thumb. "What do you want?" you cried as his huge fingers drilled into your small, tight pussy. "What do I want? I want you to know you're mine. Only mine." he growled in your ear. "But I guess you don't realize that. Do you? Don't worry after I knock you up you won't be able to leave me, maybe then you'll understand." your lips fell agape, and eyes widened threatening to pop right out of your sockets, "N-no pleasee don't do that. P-please-" Mirio pushed you towards the teacher's desk, bending you over it. Your face pressed against the cold wood yet you keep whimpering, begging him to let you free but he doesn't care. He's not listening.

He flips your skirt over leaving your ass a sight to his wretched eyes. He brings his hand down spanking it then pulling away to watch how your plump flesh jiggles, he chuckles. "I should beat this pretty little ass purple and blue," he talks to himself, completely disheartening your cries for help. He smacks your ass until he's satisfied- until your bottom blooms red and his palm stings. Mirio wastes no time in getting behind you, his hand still pinned both of yours behind your back. He slowly releases them, "Now. No funny business," he warns. He knows you wouldn't try anything, you couldn't; not in this state.

One of his hands grips your waist tightly while the other kneads your ass, "Ah shit, look at that." he whispers. "It's beautiful but it's not enough." He is quick to pull your panties down to your thighs and spread your legs open. You hold on to the edges of the desk as you feel his fingers run up your slit and dip into your hole.

"Cute, little cunt. All mine."

His length comes free from its confines and hits his stomach. It's long, hard, and big- so big. You had it impale you before multiple times but it had always been a stretch. His cock was just too big for your tiny pussy! His tip teased your entrance. Your hole drooling over it, he hissed. "I am going to knock you up. You won't be leaving me after that." He pushed inside slowly marveling at how your cunt sucked him up so eagerly, your mouth opened into a silent scream as he bottomed out. He didn't give you time to adjust to his size, he kept rutting his hips. He thrust his cock deep inside you hard and fast, swollen balls slapping against your clit making you moan. The sinful sound of sex: his hips hitting your rear, grunts and moans resonate through the room while you stayed there, under him feeling embarrassed, betrayed, and humiliated. Yet you could not ignore the pleasure he was giving you. His cock hit deep inside you, his tip kissing your cervix trying its best to sink past the rim, your cries of agony soon turned into frenzied moans.

You were close to cumming, he could tell by how tightly your precious cunt clenched around his hard length pulling him even deeper, squeezing him trying to milk him for all he's worth. "I feel that..gonna' fill you up," he says in between his grunts. Mirio tightened his grip on your hips as you started squirming beneath him, the coil in your stomach ready to burst and moment. "You're close, baby?" You whined refusing to give in, "Aww, it's fine. Just admit it: you're mine and I'll let you cum." His thrusts slowed down denying to give you satisfaction, you wailed at the loss yet you didn't agree with him. You were to give in, you told yourself but your body didn't agree. It needed Mirio and just like that it had taken over your mind, clouded your mind with nothing but lust and him. As the need for release increased, you screamed. "Ah- fuck. Yes! I am all yours- ah!" he steadied his rhythm and you exploded all over his cock. Creaming around him, your juices flowed down to your legs. Mirio length twitched inside of you, his thrusts became sloppy- he was close.

"Yeah damn fucking right. Good girl." he praised before spilling his seed inside your womb, filling you up to the brim. He pulled out and watched how his cum dripped from your abused pussy only to push it back inside with his finger. "You actually did it..." your voice was meek, head still down and body still bent over the desk. Too weak to get up, you started at the floor beneath you with glassy eyes. Mirio pulled you up and wrapped his arms around you tightly, making sure you don't run away. The hug was warm, in any other case it would have been warm and comforting but not anymore.

"This would not have happened, Y'know. It's your fault for being such a bitch."

Right, of course, you should have been smarter. You should have loved him back when you could have.

feedback is greatly appreciated <3 <taglist!!dm us if ya wanna get added or removed !!!>

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gyll-yee-haw · 4 years

Text

Ungrateful

Detective Loki Smut

Prompt (Requested): You piss David off beyond his limits and he decides to teach you not to disrespect him again.

Warnings: By request, plain evil. Degradating, spiting, slapping, overstimulation, choking, being manhandled, oral (male), a LOT of dirty talk, hints of breeding kink, unprotected sex, maybe a little size kink, daddy kink and a bit of praising just to balance all of this.

Like 1.6k words

Hope you love it!

---

When David was working on a case, he was pissed off 99% of the time. You knew it was a stressful job, after all, if he made one mistake, that could risk someone’s life. And you understood this. Most times, you even tried to help him relax as much as you could.

Cause as soon as he solved the case, life was always wonderful. He made up for all the time he couldn’t give you attention and treated you like you deserved.

Then he started working on a new case, and the circle repeated itself.

But there was this one time when, right after David finally solved a case, he skipped your “honeymoon phase” and started working on another one straight away. You were beyond pissed at that. You told him to let another detective have this one, but he didn’t listen to you.

It’s not only that you wanted attention... you also worried about him. He didn’t get much sleep or ate right those days.

So the endless nights started. Somedays he would come home, take a shower and leave without giving you a single kiss.

You were hurt. Angry. Both because you missed him and because he didn’t listen to you.

And there was this specific night, when you were getting ready for bed and you heard his car. You thought he was probably going to grab something, spend 5 minutes on the phone, then leave like you didn’t exist again.

You heard footsteps approaching the bedroom, but didn’t even bother to look.

“Hey, baby.” You heard his voice by the door.

You didn’t even bother to answer, just sat in bed and grabbed your phone to take one last look before going to sleep.

“Are you going to sleep already?” He asked, thinking you probably just didn’t see him there.

Again, no reply. You didn’t even look away from your phone.

“Y/N?” He insisted, but the sweetness in his voice started to fade. “Will you tell me why are you mad at me now?”

“Well.” You chuckled sarcastically. “Aren’t you a full-time detective nowadays? Figure it out yourself.”

Didn’t take you longer than 0.5 second to realize you fucked up, but you couldn’t take it back now. You saw him closing his hand on a fist and mentally count to 5.

You thought he was about to turn his back to you and never come back. Maybe he really was. But he changed his mind.

“I think I’m gonna need help to understand this one, I swear.” He approached you and you slowly put your phone down, fully aware you were in trouble. “You complain so much about my job, but who’s the filthy girl who likes to be cuffed and begs me to fuck her in the back of my car, huh?”

Only the memories of that already gave you shivers.

“And you complain that I’m never home...” He continued. “But when I walk through that door, you don’t even look at me.”

“But you d-” You tried to reply, but he grabbed your face and forced you to look up.

“Now you’re talking back like the fucking ungrateful slut you are...” He sighed. “I came home to spend the night with you, I should be welcomed by ‘thank you, daddy’, not by this.”

“I’m sorry, daddy.” You almost whispered.

“I’m tired of your words, already.” He said, starting to unbutton his shirt. “You haven’t said a single useful thing since I got here. Now take your clothes off, baby. Daddy’s got to teach you a lesson and my patience ended minutes ago.”

After saying all that, he didn’t even have to touch you and you were already soaked. You would do absolutely anything for him. Especially because you knew his punishments very well. If you didn’t obey and he was already angry at you, there was a big chance only him would get to cum that night.

You sat naked in bed. He removed his shirt and started to unzip his pants. The big bulge in his underwear made you bite your lip and press your thighs together.

“Open your mouth.” He said, grabbing you by the neck to bring your mouth closer.

You did as he said and he shoved his cock deep in your throat, making you gag. He absolutely never got tired of that reaction. After you got used to it, he allowed you to do your magic, but kept his hand on the back of your head to remind you of who was in control.

“Oh, fuck, just like that, baby...” He moaned. “That’s the only thing that mouth is good for.”

You moaned around his cock to let him know how much you enjoyed being a good girl for him. When you brought your hand to his balls to play with them, he threw his head back, swearing a lot.

But suddenly, he told you to stop. He removed himself from your mouth and the vision of his extremely hard cock on his belly, looking deliciously wet because of the mix of your saliva and his precum had you whining.

He grabbed your face again, and you automatically opened your mouth again, hoping he would give you his cock again, but instead, he leaned down and spit in your mouth. You didn’t think for a second before swallowing it.

“You’re willing to take anything I give you, aren’t you?” He said as he pushed his spit from your lower lip into your mouth, so you enjoyed the opportunity to suck his fingers obscenely. “Such a needy little slut.”

Then he pushed you and you lay on your back, waiting very eagerly for the next instructions.

“Down on all fours.” He said, and you obeyed quickly once again. The slap on your ass that followed it wasn’t unexpected at all. Whenever he asked you to get in that position, it was always to punish you, if he planned on being nice, he liked to have your body very close to his. “You have such a pretty pussy for me to use, babygirl. Look at that. And it’s fucking leaking because daddy was mean to you. Is that why you don’t behave, princess? You liked it when daddy’s mean?”

After those words, another slap came, so your only reply was a moan.

“I asked you a question, are you still ignoring me, babygirl?” He said as his fingers went to your clit, rubbing it a lot harder than you could take at that moment.

“Yes, daddy!” You replied desperately. “Like it... mean...”

There was no way you could sound more coherent than that with him absolutely abusing your clit like that. The pleasure was so intense and mixed with a few waves of pain, that it was impossible to cum like that. Deep down, you knew he didn’t want you to. And whenever you tried to move away from him to relieve that overstimulation, you earned a loud slap.

“Pleeease...” You cried out. “Too much...”

David knew that the moment to stop teasing you was when he couldn’t even understand what you were saying anymore.

“What’s wrong, baby? Daddy’s giving you attention just like you wanted.” He stopped and flipped you over, so now you were laying on your back, trying to catch your breath.

When you saw David grabbing his throbbing cock, you already knew you were going to feel that night for the rest of the week.

He shoved himself inside you and threw your legs over his shoulders.

“Fuck, you feel so good, baby.” He praised as he started to fuck you on a nice pace. “You can cum as many times as you have to.”

“Thank you, daddy.” You moaned. His hips brushed your aching clit as he moved and you knew it wouldn’t take long.

“Now that’s my good girl.” He said, going a little harder.

That position allowed him to go so deep inside you, and after so many days apart, you almost forgot how big and thick he was.

But, even though he tried to contain himself, since he needed to teach you to respect him, he needed to cum so bad, so didn’t take much longer for him to start to absolutely pound you.

“Hmmm... I’m so close.” You begged. “Don’t stop, please, daddy, don’t stop...”

“I won’t stop until I fill you up.” He said, his hand wrapping around your throat. “I bet you want me to cum real deep inside you, don’t you, my prettiest slut? Wanna carry all my kids around, let everyone know I knocked you up?”

Those words alone would do it, but combined with all that stimulation and his cock buried that deep inside you, made you cum harder than ever.

At that moment, you didn’t know any words beside “daddy”, and you kept repeating it, cause your body was on its limit and he continued fucking you like you were nothing but a toy for him to use.

So, when he finally came, it was a relief for both of you.

He remained inside you for a while, but switched to sweet boyfriend mode very quickly, caressing your body, kissing your face and making sure you were okay.

“I missed you so much, baby.” He told you.

“Liar.” You sighed. “You just came here to use me for one night and will go running back to your case now.”

“Oh, for fucks sake.” He smirked. “I took the entire night out. I was planning on getting some sleep too, but looks like someone here still didn’t learn how to not be an ungrateful little slut.”

#detective loki #detective loki smut #detective loki x reader #Detective Loki x you #detective loki fanfic #detective loki fic #jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal smut

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herstarburststories · 4 years

Text

(He Isn't) A Good Guy

Kinktober day 15: humiliation kink

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x reader

Summary: Jensen is tired of everyone saying he's a good guy.

Warnings: dirty talk (kind dark bc of the kink), handjob, p in v, riding, cheating, possessive, slapping

You have to be careful with what you're good at. You might just end up doing it for the rest of your life.

Jensen Ackles never caught the appeal of that saying. If you were really that good at something, why wouldn't you want to do it?

Such a mindset was as constant as a mother’s love and made Jensen's loyal company for a long time during his career. He pictured it would last forever: the head pats, positive criticism, and his charm that caught more and more fans. The Hollywood man was happy, really. He grew to be a good — if not great — actor. He had a wife and three kids that were the love of his life. He could go anywhere and find a job through the instantaneous recognition that Supernatural bestowed upon him, not to mention its gift of a best friend, Jared, and the raw amount of personal growth he went through.

He was perfect in the most diversified aspects of his life, and, God, it was boring as fuck.

Whatever Jensen did, he was excused for it. Plenty of people would light themselves on fire for him (and hey, don’t think he was ungrateful for that), but being called a good guy that apparently couldn’t do any wrongs while the rights came out even in his sleep could be devastatingly annoying.

He thought he might have some problem, perhaps even a middle-aged crisis. Come on, who, with his life, would feel compelled to look for something else? Ackles had the money, the friends, and family. He had everything everyone dreamed about, but he just wanted to wake up.

Then, he met you.

You were the woman in her twenties who was barely starting in the media business, yet you had enough luck and talent to evoke the CW's attention that early. They wouldn't hire you as an official director, but you were in the training process. You were a prodigy, as most people on the set liked to joke about.

You sighed, slightly frustrated about the direction these takes were going. Asking Ackles to follow orders was roughly the same as punching a wall; the brick didn't break, and it only left you with scuffed knuckles and growing irritation. “Jensen, you need to tilt your head to the side or we won't be able to catch her face on camera.”

“I'm doing that,” he said as if it was obvious.

“The camera doesn't agree with you.” You crossed your arms, tired of having this heated squabble again.

“I know how to shoot sex scenes, Y/N. I've been doing that for—”

You interrupted him: “I'm aware of how long the show I'm working on has been going, Jensen. Now, take my hint and do as I say. I get that you have done this before, but we are trying a new position, so your M.O. might not work.” You knew he was a good actor. Supernatural wouldn't be what it was if it wasn't for his character. Still, you needed this episode to be perfect in terms of filming. It was your first actual chance to prove how worthy you were. Jensen had his career and little apple pie life settled, but you had to scratch and squirm to insert yourself into the industry. You knew what you were doing. Nonetheless, you attempted to pacify his self-assurance by being assertive and gentle at the same time: “Just listen to me and try it. Please.”

The green-eyed man opened his mouth, very much ready to spit out a contradicting retort, but at the last second, he clamped his jaw shut and opted for a smirk instead. “Yeah, boss.”

It was the first time in years that someone actually came at him. Jensen felt the bruise aching his ego that spiked a sudden pressing need to puff out his chest and say I know what I am doing. Why don't you watch?

He'd call that the Texan man behavior, alpha macho testosterone levels on high, but, honestly, he was just mad that someone had the audacity to talk to him like that, as if he was a rookie on his job. Jensen's whole body heated up, his jaw clenched, and his breath caught on his throat when he glanced at you — of course, he'd never put a hand on a woman, but God, that was infuriating. He wasn't a middle school child in need of a lecture.

But this was his first impression. As you gave everyone fifteen minutes to relax before shooting again, he went to his trailer, gait unnecessarily heavy like a child throwing a tantrum. Jensen locked his trailer and closed his eyes, trying to pick out his emotions — how long have it been since he got mad? That couldn't be healthy.

Do as I say. Your words were echoes in his head, spinning and making him dizzy. Just listen to me.

And the look you gave him. It wasn’t adoration as a fan or nervousness like a new worker. You didn’t excuse him as anyone else did. You glanced at him as you would to any other person on the set that had made a mistake: you pointed it out and didn't offer any sugarcoating to dull the blow.

It felt refreshing.

Shaking your head at the scene unrolling on the other side of the camera, you let out an exhausted sigh. This was your second directed episode, and Jensen wasn't making it easy for you. He always seemed like such a nice guy, yet you weren't surprised by his mulish behavior. You had called him out, and now he was turning it back around on you. Celebrities were complicated on their one, but male ones even more. Their egos required a role for themselves.

“Everyone, ten minutes!” you announced, placing the headphones on the table next to you. Your crew started dispersing, Ackles included, when his name left your lips: “Jensen, c'here.”

The green-eyed man arched his eyebrows, not sure why you wanted to talk to him so privately. Still, he approached you.

When you were a kid, you went through a phase when your smile wasn’t very pretty. It was too much teeth, eyes too tight, and head lifted high enough to show under your chin. Your parents couldn't just up and tell you that it looked terrible, obviously, so they just showed you multiple pictures until you decided that you didn't like something about it.

Maybe that would work with Jensen.

You patted the chair next to you, and Jensen sat there with a wisp of hesitation. You clicked on the scene you had been trying to get right for almost an hour. The replay went smoothly, Ackles's shoulders shrugging by the end. He didn't see the fuss about this.

“Seems good,” he said nonchalantly.

You squinted your eyes at him. Someone as talented as him couldn't be serious about not seeing a problem with how ridiculous his vampire transformation through the last season was. “Seems like a sitcom”

“It's a dumb scene.” Jensen shrugged.

You groaned. “Can't you just accept that you can do better?”

Jensen crossed his arms and straightened his posture, holding a defensive atmosphere around him. God, he was infuriating sometimes. “Maybe you can. I've been doing great for years. You might not be the right director for this kind of show.”

“Just do as I said. You're in the scene, but I'm the audience. I can see right through you. I'm seeing things from another perspective and trying to tell you how to improve. That's what a director is for. Go ahead and try it!”

Your friendly conversation with the lead apparently had the opposite effect. As soon as he went back to his place in front of the camera, Jensen Ackles appeared to acquire the stubborn, incredibly unprofessional desire to take on all the worst camera angles only to get on your nerves.

“Are you kidding me!?” You elevated your voice, furious at how careless he was. All your patience has been zapped. “You're doing it on purpose. How can you be so petty?”

“Me? Petty!?” he said between gritted teeth, almost hissing as he walked to you. “I've been playing Dean for years. I know him more than—”

“I know. You do a big job with that character, but Jensen, you make mistakes. It's part of the process. You're a grown-ass man, so you can take what I'm saying and make something useful out of it. I'm the director; you are the actor. I don't care about how long you’ve been on this stage, and I don’t care for incompetence. You ain't doing good, so do as I say and fix it.”

Jensen tensed up when you said that, exhaling shortly while his eyes glued on you. You were half his age, yet the way you presented yourself — arms stiffly crossed, eyes ablaze and chin lifted — spoke of your power on this film set. At the end of the day, he was just a man, and he was in your court. Just like that, you held all control. He bit his bottom lip, neck red with the heat of anger and adrenaline that lashed through his body.

He was furious, yet all his body could do was react as if you had kissed him instead of punching his ego.

Anger and luxury both came from the same place. They were just different branches on the same tree growing from a common seed.

The half of Supernatural's leader actor started doing it on purpose, then. Not acting in a way that could collide with his career or mess up the shooting schedule, but an occasional bitched scene here and there when he had a chance, and always when you were in charge of the scene.

He relished in it: someone treating him like a man and not an untouchable idol. A woman who would look straight in his eyes and not be too intimidated, excited, or lovey-dovey to tell him all the bad things he needed to hear. You were someone who could put him in his place.

Unfortunately, playing around can only get you so far. If you bring someone to the pool, they won't be satisfied with just one foot in the water. They'd want to swim, splash water at their friends to get them all wet and soaked too.

What started with provocative, fuming rage and nuisance soon melted into something deadlier. It was something unmanageable, a burning fire that attracted all the wrong kinds of glances. Yet, neither of you could help but follow where the smoke signal led.

You were here, in each other's arms. It was a dirty little secret that went way beyond just an illicit affair: it was about what you two could give to each other without even asking, and what other people could never quite comprehend. . . And they didn't need to. Jensen had you, and you had Jensen. To desire and savor the result was enough.

Your hand was wrapped around his cock, moving up and down in a painfully slow rhythm. You had two legs wrapped around his, your face hanging next to Jensen's — close enough that you could kiss all of his freckles if this were out of love and not necessity — as you spoke.

“Everybody thinks you are the good guy. Little mister perfect.” Ackles groaned at the malice in your tone. He hated that — how everyone called him perfect, how every single person told him he was such a good guy. You were his only grounding force under the blinding lights. “But I know you aren't. You are nasty, disgusting, and so needy for someone to put you in your fucking place.”

The male's lips parted slightly, a pornographic moan leaving his body. This perversion felt like a hair short of sin. Who in their right mind would be so turned on by a girl half his age picking up all the worst things one could say about him, only to throw them exactly where it hurt the most?

Why, in the name of God, did he want more? Why was Jensen bucking his lips, needy noises that he never dons escaping his trembling body? Why was his cock hard as fuck, ruinining your fingers with sloppy precum while he internally begged you for more?

It was like receiving a miracle and giving it to the devil.

“Look at you,” you continued, a smirk painted on your features, “getting fucked in your trailer by the woman who basically told you to stop whining and get your job done like a real man.” You loved being in control of the usually overconfident Hollywood star. If only his dearest fans knew how much of a submissive he was — how he just needed to be told where he belonged.

“Y/N…” Jensen managed to say, his chest moving erratically fast. You leaned in to press your lips to his, and he whimpered. Ackles' hand slid to your waist in an attempt to pull you closer, but all he got was a slap on the arm and lack of friction on his dick. “Y/N!”

“I didn't say you could touch me, stubborn idiot.” You hissed, getting up to throw away your skirt and underwear. Jensen sniffed, feeling so ridiculous about himself. You had way too much control over him, but he couldn't really care about anything other than you touching his cock right now. Fuck composure or else. “I'm not your wife. I'm not one of your thirsty fans.” Each word came out in a harsh tone, those syllabus together had no other duty but hurt him, and he loved how they agonized in his body, redirected right to his hardness. You got free of the skirt and your soaked lace panties. “I don't need you. This?” You gestured at yourself and Ackles, a wry laughter coming out as you climbed on his lap. “I'm doing you a favor. So, you better thank me and take whatever I choose to give you. Understood?” Jensen's eyes were obsessed with your image, not leaving your face once— not even to look at his hard cock that was so close to your cunt due the new position. He just nodded, wishing that was enough to show you his piece of mind. It wasn't. You slapped his cheek and howled. “I made you a question.”

Jensen gulped, the red on his cheek from your smack couldn't compare to his blushed body. This felt so good, finally getting what he wanted. Ultimately, he blurted out: “Yes, I understand.”

“Good. Now let's put you to good use.” You winked at him, a hint of silly playfulness before you got all his length inside you at once. Both of you moaned, the unique sensation of your walls around his hard dick was marvelous. So warm, tight, and wet. Everything he deserved in one pussy, one woman. You started to move your hips up and down. “You feel so good inside me, baby. Like your cock was made for me— I think you were made just for this, to be fucked by me. What do you think?” His eyes fluttered shut, Jensen was allowing himself to get lost into you. You were heaven in sin, fucking him so nice. You weren't having his silent, though. You both had to be quiet about many things regarding to your mutual arrangement, you couldn't get more of closed mouths. Not when this was happening. You grabbed Jensen's jaw, fingertips pressing against his skin. “You better start answering me before I get out of here and go get some with a real man.”

Jensen groaned, holding your hips possessively. You knew he was one of the jealous kind, talking about other men touching you always got a reaction out of him. “I'm a real man.”

“Show me then, baby.” A glimpse of sweetness appeared as you leaned in to kiss his lips. It didn't last much before your lips went to his neck, words coming through an open-mouthed there. “You know, they all are so caught up in your act, Jensen. The perfect texan boy, the amazing husband, the unproblematic idol…” You chortled, sending goosebumps through his whole soul. His dick was deep into you as you were riding his restlessly. “I bet you get tired of this. I bet you just want to fuck me in front of everyone sometimes, just to show them how dirty you can be.” He nodded, a soft whine leaving his lips. He was so tired of being the good guy. Only you knew him. “Like right now. You spent the whole day messing up with me, teasing me, just so you could get punished. And here we are, fucking in your trailer, while everyone is getting ready to go home.” He tried to move his hips as well, to get more of you. When you didn't stop him, Ackles winced and bucked his hips, hitting your G-spot, going deep and raw inside your tight cunt. One of his hands went to your pussy, digits pressing to your clit. Your next words came during groans of pleasure. “You should go too, baby. But you can't help it, huh? You just want go fuck me, even though I don't even care enough to send you a message to make sure you got home safe. You like it. You love that I'm not crazy about you, that I don't care.” His heart ached, but his cock only grew harder. Jensen could feel he was on the edgy. “So, you stay here instead of going home to your sweet wife. You stay here instead of hanging out with your best friend. You stay here instead of looking through your social media just to get an ego boost. Is this what a good man would do, Jensen? No... But that's okay. Men like you just need to be put in their places, and you love it.”

“Y/N!” He screamed helplessly, pulling your body closer to him when he came inside you, marking your pussy as his. A treacherous, lust stained thought was placed on his shoulders, whispering lovingly to his ear like you did your swearing: breed her, get her pregnant with your baby. Make her yours.

You had broken him, and he loved every second of it. He couldn't wait to give you the shattered pieces as a gift.

You came with an excruciating grunt right after him, all over his cock. The feeling of Jensen coming inside you always pushed you right way. You sighed happily, resting your head on his chest.

He enjoyed moments like this.

You remained there, waiting for his cock to relax inside you, get less hard before you pulled you. When it did, you pressed a quick kiss to his collarbone, walking to grab your clothes.

“Jensen,” You coughed after putting on your skirt. “I'll send you the new script tonight. Send me an email to confirm that you got it.”

What you truly wanted to say was, tell me if you got home safe. But you couldn't.

“Sure.” Jensen answered with a nod. Once again, he also wanted to say something else: thank you for giving me what I need, for seeing me. I love you. But he couldn't.

You picked up your wet panties, throwing it at him with a teasing smile before leaving the trailer.

It was enough.

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#jensen ackles #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #jensen ackles x reader #kinktober #supernatural #spn #dean winchester imagine #supernatural imagines #spn reader insert #dean winchester headcanon #dean winchester imagines #dean winchester x you #dean x you #jensen x you #jensen ackles x you

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