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#slash don’t notice when i’m
dashiellqvverty · 8 months
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tbh i don’t believe ppl who say they shave bc leg hair gives them sensory issues or whatever bc *i* actually get sensory issues from shaving so like. what is the truth.
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supercutszns · 3 months
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rotten to the touch; luke castellan
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series masterlist
wc: 3.2k
pairing: pre-tlt luke castellan x f! reader
synopsis: you’re pretty sure you’re an awful person. you’re pretty sure luke castellan is too. and you’re pretty sure you want to make out with him.
warnings: reader is flawed & not the greatest, luke is ... a little dark🫣, small mention of blood, swearing, lots of making out but no explicit nsfw, a bit toxic, & no more more ‘i can fix him’ or ‘i can make him worse’ it’s ‘he can make ME worse’
notes: this is… sluttier than my usual stuff so it’s not as good but i’m trying, feedback is appreciated! also i wonder what cabin we think this reader would be in, let me know where you’d place her im curious :) maybe i’ll write more of her in the future she’s interesting!! and thank you for 100 followers i am so grateful<3 designated song for this fic is crush by ethel cain
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You are a miserable, wicked, asshole of a person, and everybody knows it. Including you.
It’s unclear to you why you turned out this way—every reason to blame never satiates the fury searing your insides. All the campers hate you. The counsellors, too. Even Chiron looks down on the viciousness inside you. You are Camp Half-Blood’s black sheep; a mean, bitter person with no love for the people around you. And it’s not just for show. You know you’re rotten. You know the anger will never go away.
It’s evident in the things you think about other people—the way you pick them apart in your head, toss them aside, because they just don’t see it. This miserable, unforgiving world, with children sleeping on wooden floors because the people who created you think you disposable. Because they can just make more of you. More, more, more, until one of you comes out rotten, born of all the ugliness they have inside them. You are the worst parts of Godly blood. The wrathful parts.
Everyone hates you. Everyone hates a person with an unquenchable anger.
But everyone loves Luke Castellan.
He’s a saint at Camp Half-Blood if there ever was one. Handsome, generous, kind. Goes out of his way to help out the new kids and gives them homes in his cabin. He’s the best swordsman in camp by a mile. Shit, you’d even love Luke Castellan if you didn’t know any better.
But you do, and you don’t, and it’s complicated, okay?
Because there’s something you know about Luke Castellan that nobody else does: he’s miserable and wicked, too.
You see it in his eyes sometimes. The way they look at you at dinner, when you’re picking at your food away from anyone else at your table. Something familiar rises in them, and your stomach twists. His body tenses whenever someone mentions his father, but the smiles he flashes are so charismatic nobody notices. But you do. It’s exciting.
During sword practice, he quips back and forth with the kids and laughs whenever they take a jab at him. He’s light, easy, carefree. But you see how he holds back, the tension in his shoulder, the way the arc of his sword never fully finishes. So you wait until everybody leaves and he’s alone, with the training dummies and the setting sun. And you. Hiding.
He slashes through them and spears through their heads. You see it, the gnashing of his teeth, the sweat curling down his cheeks. There’s something there. A chasm he’s hopeless to fill.
Before you know it, you’re going out of your way to catch him training alone. It’s creepy, you know, and awful, you know, but the more you watch him the more you see a sort of violence scabbed under his skin.
Whenever you see him now, the feeling you get is entirely foreign to you. It’s almost . . . longing.
Wherever she is, you’re pretty sure Aphrodite’s having a cosmic fucking laugh. And you’re sure she’s laughing double tonight.
The Aphrodite cabin is hosting some secret party for the older counsellors. You’re definitely of age to be a counsellor, but you’ve never been made one because that would probably make half the campers drop out. Chiron and Mr. D don’t know what to do with you. You’re sure you’ll be kicked out of camp soon for good.
But you’re here anyways, for a reason you don’t want to admit, and you stay tucked in a corner as the world around you mingles. Luke is on the other side of the room, lovely as always, laughing with a few other counsellors. He brings a drink up to his lips, and you have a startling thought of what it would be like to kiss him. And you’re fucked. You’re so fucked. Because for the first time in your life you want something tangible, something real. You want to hear him and feel him and pry him apart, and a part of you wants him to actually see you, see all the awful things that might make you the same. You feel like a teenage girl with a crush, and it is infuriating.
An Aphrodite girl comes up to you with a foolish smile. “Hey, sorry, you want a drink?”
“Fuck off, you idiot,” you snarl.
You wait for her to leave. She doesn’t. “You know, you don’t have to be so mean all the time,” she says evenly. “If you’re here, you might as well enjoy it. So yes, I want to give you a drink.”
“Have you ever thought that I’m not being mean? Maybe I just am.”
You glare at her. She looks you up and down. “Sure,” she shrugs, walking away. There’s a vivid picture in your mind of her falling through a hole in the cabin floor. It doesn’t soothe you, but at least the fantasy is there.
The night drones on. You’re sick of the smells and the laughs and the heat. And you’re sick of yourself. You can’t believe, underneath all your sourness, you came here to stare at a boy you barely know, and you don’t even know why. He’s fascinating, and you resent him, and he’s also beautiful. But he’s looked back at you all of three times tonight and you’re sick of the way your skin crawls when he does.
Leaving the cabin brings the relief of the cool night air, and the singularity of your body. You are the only one who feels this rage. You are the only one who hates.
To stave off your discomfort you walk around to the back of the cabin, to the crest of the hill facing the water. The stars above twinkle at you in spite. There’s a bitterness in your throat you want to wash down with something worse (maybe you should have taken that drink), but you know it won’t matter. Nothing matters. Those stars and whatever they hide are apparently the only important things in the universe, so why should anyone care about anything?
They stars only get brighter. It’s probably their goal to piss you off. You grunt, “Oh, fuck you,” to them. It’s not enough, never nearly enough to expel the rotten part of you. “Fuck you. Fuck off!” You groan at the sky. Nothing happens. Until:
“I’m guessing you’re not having a fun night.”
You whirl around. It’s hard to see in the dark, but whatever light is left catches a long scar on a cheek. Your stomach knots.
“Yeah, me neither,” Luke Castellan says, hands in his pockets as he meanders towards you.
Even when he’s close enough, you don’t say anything. If you do, you’re afraid it’ll be something ugly. Like I kind of want to make out with you. Are you awful too? I need a lobotomy.
The thoughts almost make you laugh. Been a long time since you’ve been funny.
He nods at the sky. “Those things don’t talk. You do know that, right?” He’s still so captivating, so self-assured, even when there’s no one around but you.
“Gods, you’re the worst,” you scoff. You really mean it, so you can’t look him in the eye.
“Then why have you been staring at me all night?”
It catches you so off-guard that you whip back to face him. He has an eyebrow raised and the itch of a smile that makes you burn with shame. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
He shrugs, leaning against the cabin wall. “I’m not stupid. You’ve been brooding in the corner watching me the second you came in.” He cocks his head to the side, adding, “Actually, you stare at me all the time. At meals and stuff. I really hope you don’t think you’re being subtle.”
You huff. “Okay, if we’re really being honest here, you started that! You do it too! All the time!”
His hands shot up like he was being arrested. “Hey, I never said I minded it. A guy’s . . . just gotta wonder. What’s up with you spying on me when I’m training alone, anyways?”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You watch me when there’s nobody else around. I’m not blind. It’s weird. If you want tips you can just ask me. Or if you like what you’re looking at, at least be upfront about it.”
You speak before you can take in that last sentence, or the way his smile took pride in itself when he said it, or how embarrassed you should probably feel. “You didn’t answer my question about why you started staring at me first.”
The anger (shame) blinding you made you forget how close you are to him right now. Close enough to touch, but not enough to see. But almost there. Almost.
“People think you’re mean,” Luke says after a moment, his dark eyes probing you. The words curl out of his mouth slowly, like he’s choosing them all with care. “You’re rude. You never listen to anyone. You judge everything. They all think you’re awful.” Again, he looks you over. “I’m not so sure.”
“If I’m awful, then you’re awful,” you spit before he can say anything else.
He just shrugs. “Well, I guess that’s why I’m not sure.”
It’s irritating, his calmness. He has the same anger you do. How come he can just . . . shove it down? You try to unearth any fury in his eyes, but it’s too far back. Simmering. “Jesus,” you mutter, “You’re worse than me.”
He looks genuinely taken aback by this. His scar deepens when his brows wrinkle. “What?”
“You’re a pretender—that’s what you are.” It’s your turn now, to step closer, to make his skin crawl. “Look at you. Everyone loves you. You’re this perfect golden boy and you’re sweet and attentive and whatever the fuck but you know it’s one giant lie. At least I’m honest, but you just sit pretty and act like you don’t have that . . . thing that I have. Resentment. Insanity. Whatever you want to call it. We’re the same, but I’m the only one getting shit for it.”
Now, you are close enough to really see him. The patterns on the wood behind him frame the vision of his ever-shifting face. You realize that this, like most things are to Luke Castellan, is a challenge. You also can’t remember the last time you saw him lose one.
But when you play, you play to win.
“You don’t know that,” he dares.
“Oh, I do. You’re rotten, Castellan,” you sneer, index finger jabbed into his chest. You can feel his heartbeat if you concentrate. “And you’re not owning up to it, so you’re also a coward.”
However scathing you look, it isn’t enough. If anything it only makes Luke’s manner more playful. Nothing feels playful anymore. Everything, inside and outside of your mind, feels like constant, exhausting war. Maybe that’s why you don’t slap his hand off you when it wraps around your wrist, keeping it pressed to the middle of his chest. His heartbeat thrums through you.
He tilts his face towards you, grinning, “Then why do you want to kiss me?”
All right. What the fuck. It feels like you’ve been electrocuted.
“What the—what are you talking about?” You blunder, but he knows, of course he knows, because there’s something between the two of you that has been formed and understood by eye contact alone. He can probably read your mind. As much as you don’t want to admit it, you’d like to read his just as much.
He cocks his head. “I mean, you did call me pretty,” he teases, and it’s almost endearing. “You’re pretty like this too.” His other hand comes up to your face, and you’re surprised you don’t flinch when his thumb gently smooths the crease in your eyebrows. “Don’t call me a coward, heathen. Then we’ll both be embarrassed.”
The nickname makes you want to fight, but the touch makes you dizzy. “You don’t want to kiss me, Luke,” you say with all the control you have, which, right now, is increasingly sparse.
“You’ve gotta stop telling people what they want,” he muses. The hand on your wrist traces further down your forearm. The one on your face snakes around your hips. “One of your more disagreeable qualities.”
His words fan over you. That fire simmering in his eyes has finally come to the surface.
“One of?” You challenge.
“You let me make out with you and I’ll give you a whole list.”
You snort, hoping it hides the shortness in your breath. “What a charmer you are.”
His lips brush yours. “Well, that’s what makes me so rotten, isn’t it?”
There’s hardly time to unravel if that’s a question or a statement because you grab a fistful of his shirt and he kisses you. Your heart detonates. It is not rotten in the slightest.
His body is warm and firm. You smell the cabin wood and the drink on his breath. It all matters, and none of it does. You’re warm everywhere as he wraps both arms around your back, and the way he kisses is, unfortunately, exactly how you thought he would. Your hands are tentative in his hair. So is your mouth on his. But Luke is so deliberate in the way he kisses that you know he’s thought about this, too. It makes you all the warmer.
His hand takes your jaw and tilts it up. You know your neck is shaky with breath, and you’re pretty sure he’s admiring it. You don’t complain when he presses a kiss to your jaw, then another one, like he’s testing the waters. “You’re so nice like this,” he mutters almost to himself, thumb running across your neck. “If only people could see you.”
“Then they’d see how mean you are too, no?” You huff. “You don’t want that.”
Another kiss to your jaw. “Not yet, sweetheart.”
Whatever feeling is harbouring in your body right now, it’s so fulfilling it almost makes you uncomfortable. You want to reject it. You’re not supposed to want things. Worse, you’re not supposed to get things. Luke starts marking a path down your neck and you are so determined to enjoy this that you’d kiss a fucking baby if someone asked you to. You might as well be a saint.
He bites the pulse point on your neck, sure to leave a mark, and a shudder rips through you. You’re pretty sure the bastard starts laughing. You hit his shoulder in retaliation.
“Easy, heathen,” he reprimands in your ear, and you know he’s still smiling.
“Don’t—don’t call me that.” You hate that you start to smile, too, and that your stomach burgeons with butterflies when he pulls back to look at you.
He touches the corner of your upturned mouth, kiss-bitten and red. His expression is boyish. “Hard to when it makes your face do that,” he goads. “I thought it was impossible for you to smile.”
“Be quiet.” You thread a hand through his camp necklace and bring him closer. You can almost taste his mouth on yours, but he sweeps past you at the last minute.
He gently tugs your earlobe with his teeth and whispers, “Yes ma’am.”
Fuck him. Seriously. You might have to.
It’s a tangle of teeth and hands and smiles kept hidden, as you slip your fingertips beneath his shirt and he does the same, and you’re both angry and greedy and incredibly destructive, but it doesn’t matter yet. Now you’re just teenagers fooling around at the back of a party, and it’s the first good thing either of you have had in a long time. Luke leaves you gasping whenever his mouth hits certain places, maybe too many places, and he teases you accordingly. “So sensitive,” he taunts, pressing his knee between your legs so he can see you squirm. You rake your nails through his scalp and he tilts his head back to groan. It shuts him up for a while.
He bites your neck until you say his name. You trace lines on his stomach till he takes your hand in his own. You’ve been hungry for something your whole life, and you finally have something to sink your teeth into. For better or for worse.
After Hades knows how long, laughter floats out from the front of the cabin. Sounds of feet tripping over each other and muffled goodbyes. You pull away from Luke, chests heaving together. His hair is wild, his shirt crumpled, and he looks entirely satisfied with it. Smug little shit. “Party’s letting out,” you mutter.
“What a damn shame.” His hand rubs your jaw, and it’s too tender a gesture so you angle your head away to peek over the side of the cabin. You barely pay attention to the kids straggling back to their bunks.
“Is now the time you tell me all my horrible qualities?” You ask once you’re ready to look at him again.
He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Actually, I came up with more since I said that so I’m pretty sure it’ll take more than one night.” He fakes a wince, “Might have to spread it out for a few days.”
You roll your eyes, “Oh, you ass.”
“I’ll give you one for starters.” You feel like a tornado when he kisses the juncture between your jaw and your neck. “Your hands are too cold.” They’re tucked underneath his shirt right now, pressed against his back. You don’t move them. “And,” he adds, “you’re incredibly crass.”
“Thanks, dipshit.”
“Thank you for proving my point, heathen.”
The commotion at the front gets louder, and you know your time to go undiscovered runs short. “You meet me again tomorrow, and I start telling you the rest?” He raises his brows.
The prospect both repulses and excites you, although perhaps they’re hand-in-hand. You tentatively reach up to trace the scar on his face. A faint, jagged line that holds scripture within it. His eyes flutter shut for a moment. “Even though I’m rotten?” You ask, and there’s an echo of mischief in your voice, too.
He’s got a strange expression when he looks at you. “That’s not true.”
He leans down, angles his head to kiss you. It’s slow, but bitter, and he bites down on your lip until you’re pretty sure there’s blood. “Luke,” you murmur, and he kisses you softer. You lean into him like a hapless, lovesick fool.
After you part, he loosens his grip on you. The bumbling campers have gotten louder. He stares at you, and you see the chasm in his eyes again, brimming with fire. Same as yours. You know you’ll see him tomorrow.
He says, “You’re not rotten. You’re right.”
And damn it, you really do believe him.
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freedomfireflies · 4 months
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Whiplash*
Summary: The second part to Knockout*
The one where Harry does something dangerous in the shadows, and he'll do anything to keep you out of it.
Word Count: 9.4k (again...so sorry)
Content Warning: 18+, smut, mentions of violence, slight blood kink, slight pain kink, overstimulation, multiple orgasms
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There’s no protocol for what to do when a handsome stranger you hardly know (but occasionally fool around with), stops showing up at your diner. 
You stare at his booth for far longer than you should. Willing him to appear. To walk through the door and make things right. Ease this ache in your chest.
You have no way to contact him. You don’t know his last name, or his phone number, or his address. You don’t even know his license plate number. He’s a ghost to you. More than a stranger but less than a friend.
You give him a few more minutes to appear. Maybe there was traffic. Or maybe he forgot you were working tonight.
But soon, a few minutes turns into an hour, and booth 505 remains empty.
So, you put the idea of him to bed. Carrying on with your shift while wearing your heavy heart on your sleeve. Perhaps he’s gotten bored with you. Or perhaps he’s found other ways to occupy his nights.
You almost think you’d prefer this alternative to the other. The one where he’s not here because he’s not…here. That wherever he goes and whatever he does has finally caught up to him.
It makes your stomach wrench to imagine, and you forcibly shove the thought free before returning your attention to your newest pie.
Peach. Another one of Harry’s favorites.
3 a.m. has never felt so liberating. Bringing you the perfect escape as you clock out and rush through the doors for the parking lot. Eager to rid yourself of this wretched night and head back to your apartment to worry about your stranger in peace.
You step out into the cold morning air and pull your jacket a bit tighter around your frame. Exhaling a shaky breath that you can see dance across the dimly lit space.
There are only two other cars over by the right side of the building, and much to your continued dismay, you notice that Harry’s still isn’t one of them. 
So, with a sinking stomach, you reach into your pocket for your apartment keys, and begin walking for the subway. Yet right as round the corner of the diner, you notice something move within the shadows just beside you.
With a jump, you gasp, and spin around on your heel with your keys raised and aimed at the ready.
The figure that emerges sends your heart straight into your throat.
“Harry?” You drop your arm and move closer for a better look. “What…what…?”
The battered and bruised man offers you a tired smile that hardly reaches his lips. “Hi, Cherry.”
He looks worse than you’ve ever seen him. There’s a nasty slash going down his left eyebrow, a dark bruise forming along his jaw, and blood dripping down his arm from beneath his sleeve onto the pavement below.
You search for the right words – for any words at all – but before you can, he’s stumbling forward. Just barely able to catch himself before he collapses onto the ground.
With another gasp, you surge forward, quickly taking hold of his shoulders in order to keep him upright. “Harry—”
“M’okay,” he murmurs, and you can hardly hear him. As if he barely has the strength to speak. “I’m fine. I promise—”
“Harry,” you repeat for a third time, almost incredulously. “You…this is not fine. You’re…what happened?”
Even before he shakes his head, you know he won’t truly answer. “Nothing. S’just a little worse this time, but I’m okay. Really.”
You feel sick. Sick that he’s so hurt, sick that you can’t help him, and sick because you don’t understand who does this to him. “Okay, we…we need to get you to a hospital, we need to get you some help—”
“No.” His head shakes again, a bit more insistently. “No, I can’t go to a hospital. I just…I had to see you.”
You feel your throat constrict. “What?”
His hand lifts, palm finding your jaw until he can softly caress your cheek. And you feel a streak of blood smear across your skin from where his thumb brushes at your chin. 
“I had to see you,” he repeats softly. “Had to make sure you were all right. M’so sorry I wasn’t here earlier.”
You want to bury yourself in his arms. Want to kiss him, and hold him, and fix him. Make everything better again.
“It’s okay,” you nearly whimper. Pushing yourself into his touch. “I’m just really worried about you.”
The smirk grows. “I’m all right. I’ll go home, take some pain pills, and be right as rain by tomorrow. Really.”
 You’re hardly convinced. “Harry—"
“I’m all right,” he insists, dipping down to press his forehead to yours. “You don’t have to worry about me, Cher. S’not the first time this has happened, and it won’t be the last. I’ll be okay. I just wanted to see you.”
And you don’t believe him. You don’t even think he believes him. But he smiles at you as though he wants to. As though he wants to offer you any sort of consolation for his pain. To make this better…for you.
You allow him to hold you a moment longer before you pull back and declare, “I’ll help.”
His brows pinch together. “What?”
“I’ll help. I’ll go with you. Make sure you’re okay, and…and help you clean up.”
His expression softens, but he sighs heavily. “Baby, I can’t…I can’t ask you to do that—”
“You’re not asking. I’m offering.”
“I know, s’just…” He holds your cheeks in both hands now. Keeping you in his sights. “I made a rule with myself. A promise that I wouldn’t drag you down with me. That I’d make sure you were okay, and that you’d never hurt because of me.”
The pit in your stomach deepens, but you merely straighten up. “How could this hurt me? I just want to help.”
“I know, sweet girl,” he breathes. “But letting you come with me means breaking my rule. And I can’t do that. I won’t.”
You wonder what he means. You wonder if you really want to know.
“Then you come with me,” you decide. “You can come back to my apartment, and I can make sure you’re all right.”
Another heavy exhale, but you can tell he’s touched. “Cherry—”
“I mean it. You’re not…Harry, I’m really worried about you. You can hardly stand and you’re bleeding from more places than one. You could have really hurt yourself and you shouldn’t be alone. I won’t let you be alone right now.”
He considers this. “Cherry, I’m trying to protect you—”
“And I’m trying to protect you, too,” you argue firmly, but with a persuasive grin. “Please let me.”
There’s a long lull of silence, those gentle green eyes studying you closely. He looks so very tired and wrought with grief. Yet when he sees you…his entire world seems to change. Lighting up about as bright as the moon.
“Okay,” he finally agrees. “Okay, we’ll go. I trust you.”
I trust you. Three little words that have never sounded so good and you can’t help but push up onto your toes to kiss him as gingerly as you can.
“Okay, where’s your car?” you ask, letting go in order to look around. “My apartment isn't too far, so I can drive until we—”
“No.”
“What?”
He squeezes onto your wrist almost pointedly. “No, we can’t…can’t take my car. S’not safe.”
“Oh…” Your lashes flutter. “All right. We…we can take the subway. I was going to take it anyway because a friend of mine is borrowing my car for the night, but…that can work. We can make that work.”
He says nothing, instead swaying a bit from the loss of blood as you rush to take hold of him once more.
“All right, okay. You’re okay,” you murmur softly. “Just hold on, okay? It’s only a few stops to my place, and we’ll be there in under twenty minutes.”
He nods weakly in response, and you’re quick to pull his arm around your shoulders in order to help guide him through the parking lot.
He seems grateful for this hold on you. Smirking to himself before leaning over to press his lips to your temple. Keeping you tight against his chest as though the two of you are merely going for a stroll in the park. 
Like a real couple.
You cling to his stained hoodie and help lead him toward the subway station. Making sure that you don’t walk too fast (or too slow) in order to get him there in one piece.
You don’t talk much – although there’s so much you want to say – but you can tell he’s pleased. Grateful to be in your company, even despite the circumstances. 
Once the train arrives, you both slip through the doors, and take a seat near the exit. You push your shoulder into his and he pushes his shoulder into yours. Leaning against each other almost contently and smiling to yourselves as the rest of the crowd saunters on.
The subway is relatively empty for this time of night. Or rather, early morning. And you’re more than all right with that. It means less people to stare at the bloody, bruised man dripping onto the train floor. 
He doesn’t notice the odd looks. He doesn’t seem to notice anything but you, instead staring down at where your fingers are tracing his. The way they run tenderly over the cracked skin across his knuckles before intertwining together.
He hums contently, lips stretching into a gentle grin.
You’re at your stop only fifteen minutes later, practically leaping onto your feet in a rush to get him out.
He seems to have a bit more energy now, perhaps from being able to rest for as long as he did. But he still holds onto you as tightly as he can while you walk along the sidewalk.
And you can’t help but let him.
“My apartment might be a little messy,” you attempt to preface as you head inside the tall building. “I was going to clean it before I left, but something…came up.”
He nods understandingly before glancing over the side of your profile. “Are you all right?”
“Am I all right?” you tease, gesturing toward him.
He smirks, but that curious look doesn’t slip. “Are you?”
You press the elevator button with one hand and squeeze his palm in the other. “I will be once you are.”
Apartment 505 is on the left side of the building, just beside the stairwell. It gives you a perfect view of the city, and you spend most of your days out on the stairwell watching the sun rise and set.
There’s a wreath on your door, hanging just over the number, and your stranger smiles when he sees it. Seemingly amused by the bright flowers and dainty bow that stands out amidst the dark grey paint.
After fumbling with your keys, you finally manage to get you both inside. Exhaling a deep breath and tossing your things toward the coffee table.
“Lock it,” he murmurs just as you’re moving for the kitchen.
“What?”
“The door. Lock it,” he says, almost firmly while nodding toward the handle. “Right now.”
A tad surprised by the resolute tone of voice, you nod, and turn around to oblige. Making sure the lock is turned and the door is secure before glancing over for his approval.
“Good girl,” he mumbles. “I want you to always lock it when you come in, all right? Always.”
“Okay,” you agree softly, returning to him. “I will.”
“Promise?”
“Promise,” you whisper, raising your hand to his face to press a kiss to his cheek. “Can you let me take care of you now?”
He seems to chuckle as he allows you to stroke his jaw. Settling into your gentle touch before nodding.
Pleased, you take his hand, and lead him toward your small bathroom. Sitting him on the edge of the bathtub in order to get a better look.
But the moment you see each cut and scrape beneath the bright, fluorescent light, there’s a hitch in your breath. Overwhelming you with sorrow and anguish at the sight of him. 
“Harry,” you exhale, almost unintentionally. 
His lashes flutter as he smiles, reaching out to lightly tug on your waitressing dress. “M’okay, Cherry. Really.”
He’s not okay, and you both know it. “I’ll…I’ll need to clean them first. Where…how many are there?”
A beat while he thinks. “There’s a couple on my chest. Plus, the one on my eye, and, you know, my hands.”
You nod, and vaguely gesture toward him, willing yourself not to shake. “Can…may I take off your hoodie? So I can check?”
The corner of his mouth curls up and he nods as well, reaching for the collar of his sweatshirt in order to begin peeling it off his torso.
You attempt to help, making sure he can get his arms through without having to bend too far or cause any strain to the injuries.
But once it’s off, you feel your stomach twist.
 His skin is littered with scars, scrapes, and fresh bruises. A variety of colors that range from light pink to an unsettling yellow. Blood is smeared across tattoos you didn’t even know he had, and there’s a rather nasty gash along the side of his ribcage. 
You hear yourself gasp, and he quickly tugs on your hem again. “Cher—”
However, you brush his hand away and move closer, running the tips of your fingers along his shoulder and down his sternum. Trailing each inch of stained skin until you reach his heart.
“Harry…” you say again.
He takes hold of your wrist and offers you a look of remorse. “I know.”
You aren’t sure you have the strength to ask, instead swallowing thickly as you pull back, and turn around. Searching through your cupboards for everything you’ll need.
He watches you closely, and it seems your reaction causes him more pain than anything else. It’s a look you know well. One where he’s desperate to comfort you, and you wish you could let him.
You rejoin his side with bandages, rubbing alcohol, and a sterilized needle with thread. “All right, I have to clean them first, and then…”
His eyes flick down to the suturing supplies with a smirk. “Ah.”
You grimace. “It’ll probably hurt.”
To your surprise, he shrugs. “No worse than what gave me the cut, I imagine.”
You hum to yourself and move for the alcohol. “And this might sting.”
“Mm. I’m counting on it.”
Dipping a cloth into the potent liquid, you begin to dab at each open cut that’s painted along his body. Making sure to be as gentle as you can and avoid any potential infections.
He tenses every few moments, jaw ticking as he takes steady, even breaths. But he makes no noise of complaint, nor does he flinch away from your touch. Almost leaning into it as you move between each scratch.
“How’s that?” you whisper, glancing over his face curiously before moving for the cut on his brow. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah,” he murmurs, red-rimmed eyes trained on you. Seeming to study you while you study his injury. “M’okay. Are you?”
You smile. “Yeah. Don’t like hurting you, though.”
“You’re not. Could never.”
“Hope you’re right.”
You smooth back the dark hairs of his eyebrow as gingerly as you can before reaching for the medical tape. Cutting the strips to the right length, you place a couple over the cut, and step back to observe.
“All right,” you declare. “Now, um…now I’ll need to…”
You both look toward his stomach where the worst gash lies, and he nods. “Where do you want me?”
“Just…there. Is fine.” You collect the needle and thread before crouching down near him in order to get closer. “It shouldn’t take too long. Be over before you know it.”
“All right.” He’s oddly calm, and for some reason, it makes you nervous. “This isn’t the first time I’ve been stitched, Cherry. I’ll be all right.”
 “I can see that,” you mumble to yourself, reaching now for his abdomen. “Just…tell me if it hurts too much, okay?”
“Okay.”
With a deep breath, you pinch his skin between your fingers, and bring the tip of the needle closer. Piercing the skin and threading it through slowly and with great precision.
He looks down, watching for a moment almost as though fascinated. “You’re really good at that.”
You offer a tight-lipped smile. “Should hope so. Spent three years learning how to do it.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. My, uh…my parents really wanted me to pursue a career in the medical field,” you explain as you continue working your way down. “And I thought being a nurse would be good because I liked the idea of helping people. And I liked learning about the body and how to heal it.”
His eyes remain on you.
“Anyway, it didn’t…I didn’t have a great experience in medical school,” you continue. “And it made me realize that it wasn’t what I really wanted to do. I wanted to…help people through food, I guess. Which probably sounds silly—”
“No,” he says, almost immediately. “No, it doesn’t.”
You smile a bit bigger. “Well, my parents were pretty pissed when I dropped out. Which makes sense, since they were the ones paying for it. But…they told me that if I wanted to pursue baking, I’d have to do that on my own. Financially, anyway. Hence all the late shifts at the diner.”
His brows furrow together almost sternly.
“And I don’t mind it. I really like working there. I like my coworkers, I like the people I meet.” You pause now and brave a glance up. “And I really like that it brought me to you.”
There’s a softness in his expression that makes your heart skip. “M’glad it brought you to me, too.”
You chew on the inside of your lip to suppress a rather giddy grin before returning your focus to the wound. “All right, your turn.”
“My turn?”
You nod your chin toward his injured body. “Why do you keep letting this happen?”
He sighs, and his stomach tenses with the strained breath. He wears the same look he wears each time you ask, and you already know he’s searching for the right way to deflect the question. 
“I don’t know.”
You expected nothing less, yet tonight, you insist upon the truth. Scooting closer as you glance up almost pleadingly. “Where do you go? Who does this to you?”
He hesitates. “Cher—”
“I won’t judge you. I’d never judge you, but this isn’t…Harry, this is really scary. And I want to make sure you know what you’re doing.”
Another heavy pause as you continue the suture. He contemplates his response, the small bathroom filling with a tense sort of energy. You wonder if the truth hurts him more than the scars.
“I…fight,” he finally says, and you feel your pulse stutter. “I get paid to fight. Three nights a week.”
And even though you’d already begun to assume that was the case, you feel the blood drain from your face. “Harry…”
“It’s okay,” he murmurs quickly, reaching out to brush his thumb along your cheek. “I’m okay.”
You want to argue, but you bite your tongue. Zeroing in your focus on your hands.
“I like it,’ he continues. “Don’t know why, but there’s just…there’s this rush, you know? This adrenaline. Makes me feel alive to be so close to death, I guess.”
You hum quietly, features pulling together in a wince. 
“S’about the only thing I’m good at, too,” he adds with a wry chuckle. “And all I have to do is win.”
Your head lifts. “This doesn’t look like a win.”
“Yeah, well. You should’ve seen the other guy.”
And despite his attempt at humor, you look back down, lashes fluttering.
It’s quiet for another long lull before he says, “It’s how I met you.”
You choose to keep your eyes downcast on the needle this time, but your ears perk up.
“One of the guys I work with said your desserts were the best he’d ever had. Said he used to go there all the time, for every fucking meal.”
You pull the thread though his stained skin and he sucks in a sharp breath. 
But his story is undeterred. “And I always get kind of a sugar craving after a fight, so I thought I’d go. And then…you.”
You remember the night vividly. The sight of him, hands wrapped in gauze, eyes dark and inquisitive, that familiar hoodie pulled over his head.
He was mysterious and strange, and you were drawn to him like a moth to a flame. 
You have been ever since.
“And he was right,” Harry whispers now, tucking his finger beneath your chin until he can see you. “Never had anything as sweet as you.”
Your heart returns to your throat, and there’s a sort of longing in your stomach that can’t be tamped. You aren’t sure if you want to laugh or cry, so you merely release a soft sigh and finish closing the wound.
“Do you know what you’re doing?” you ask of him again. “Really?”
He runs his tongue over his cracked lip. “Sometimes.”
“And would they let you leave? If you wanted to?”
The silence is deafening. 
His thumb moves to your mouth, brushing over the pink fibers that part for him. “Maybe one day I’ll be brave enough to find out.”
It’s not a perfect answer. But it’s the one you choose to cling to, reaching up to squeeze his wrist in desperation.
You suppose this explains more than you realized. Why he won’t tell you who he really is. Why he won’t let you into his world. Why he insists on keeping you safe.
But it only makes this new reality that much heavier.
“Just make me a promise, okay?” you exhale. “Promise me that you’ll be all right. That you’ll stay safe. That you won’t…”
The unspoken word carries a weight that nearly crushes you, and he seems to understand as he squeezes your chin.
“That you’ll always come back,” you finish.
“I promise,” he says, even if you both know it’s not a promise he can make. “Always.”
You kiss him. Quickly and without pause, surging forward until your mouth meets his. You take his lips between your own, careful to mind the cut while remembering just how much he enjoys the sting.
Instantly, his hand curls around the back of your neck, tugging you as close as he can get you. Tongues tangling, teeth clashing, and soft grunts that reverberate all the way down to your chest.
“Careful,” you gasp, attempting to pull back when he guides you between his legs. “Your cut—”
“Don’t care,” he whispers, bringing you back to nip at your bottom lip. “Don’t fucking care.”
You whimper against him, hands resting delicately on his chest. “Har—”
“I know. Just missed you. Really missed you, sweet girl.”
He tugs you between his thighs and you allow yourself to be moved. Melting into his touch as he uses his height advantage to fully take control of you. In more ways than one. 
Desperate pants fill the tiny bathroom, and you can’t help but feel undone by him. Already feeling a certain throbbing in the pit of your stomach that can’t be tamed by anything else but him.
“Harry,” you try again, moving your hands to his hair. Carding your fingers through his matted, bloody curls. “Please…”
And then…you feel it. Rather, you feel him. Hard and prominent, pressing right up against you. 
You gasp, and he rests his forehead against yours. Cursing to himself when you nudge yourself forward.
And that’s when you realize. 
“Does pain turn you on?”
There’s a quick pause before he nods once. Trailing his lips along your cheek and toward your throat.
Your head spins. “Really?”
Another motion of his head. “It’s not really pain when it’s you.”
Breathlessly, you drop your touch to his lap, palming him through his dark jeans while he groans again and buries his nose in your neck. Inhaling you deeply while bracing himself against your knelt frame.
“Think it’s my turn now,” you say. “My turn to be good.”
The grip on your neck tightens, and you can feel him release a warm exhale against your collarbone before he’s kissing just below your ear.
Then, he shakes his head, and mumbles, “No.”
You stop, fingers freezing over the bulge between his thighs. “What?”
“No,” he repeats gently. “S’not about me. Wanna make this about you.”
You lean back just far enough to catch his eye. “But—”
“There are a lot of things I’ll never be able to give you. Or do for you,” he explains gingerly. “But I can do this. I want to do this, sweet girl. Wanna give you the fucking world because it’s what you deserve.”
You consider this for only a moment before settling on the floor. “Har…”
His head shakes once more. Thumb stroking the curve of your jaw while tilting your eyes up. “Never be able to tell you how beautiful you are. I don’t…I can’t even understand it. You’re perfect, Cherry. So fucking perfect, and I will spend the rest of my life wanting to be near you.”
It’s a sweet sentiment. One that nearly knocks the wind from your lungs as you gaze at him.
“Wanting to taste you…” he continues, dipping down to brush his nose against yours. “Feel you…touch you. You…are the best goddamn thing I will ever have.”
You whimper, pushing yourself closer until he finally kisses you. “Then let me…”
But he merely smiles. “One day, sweet girl. I promise.”
You want to push. You almost want to insist that he let you take his cock into your mouth, but the look on his face is resolute. Decisive. You aren’t changing his mind, at least not tonight.
And you decide that maybe it’s for the better. His body needs to rest in order to heal, and perhaps any extra strain would hurt him or rip the stitching.
So, you oblige. “Fine. But I’m holding you to that.”
With a chuckle, he kisses you again. “Good girl.”
The kisses grow more frantic. About as frantic as before, and you have to physically yank yourself out of his grasp in order to calm yourself down.
“No,” you say this time as you stand. “No, you need to lay down. And rest. Okay? Give your body time to heal. And get better.”
He watches you go, but he’s unconvinced, already looping an arm around your hips to pull you back. “This is how I get better.”
And even though you’re concerned for his health, you can’t deny the pulsing between your thighs. “Harry—”
“You make me better,” he says, trailing his lips along your arms, all the way down to your palms. “Always. Fucking always—”
You whine beneath a strained breath, your other hand dropping to his head as you tug on his hair.
In turn, he moans against you, and your knees about buckle. “Let me get better…please…”
And it’s almost like he doesn’t realize he’s said it. A subconscious thought that’s whispered against your skin until it becomes one with your bloodstream.
“Want to,” you say. “I want to, but you need to rest. I need you to rest, Har.”
“I am,” he tries to argue, glancing up through those thick lashes of his. “This is me resting.”
“Harry—”
“Please,” he nearly groans again, pressing his nose into your stomach. “God, please, Cher. Please. M’so fucking lost on you, I can’t…I need…”
He told you once that you’re like a drug to him. That he goes through withdrawals if you’re not near. If he’s gone too long without you.
And, truthfully, you feel about the same. Feeling strung-out and shaky without his touch. Even the sound of his voice. It’s borderline pathetic, yet you don’t ever want to be rid of him.
“You need to rest,” you repeat, although you’re losing conviction. “I want to, but I can’t…I’m worried. You shouldn’t move, you should rest.”
The air becomes charged as he looks back up. “Then ride my face.”
You hesitate. “What?”
“Ride my face,” he says again, practically groaning the instruction. “S’easy, right? Won’t have to move. I’ll just hold you, yeah?”
You feel the heat rush into your cheeks as you blink down at him. “I…you’re already hurt. I don’t want to suffocate you, too—”
“God, suffocate me,” he sighs, grabbing onto the backs of your thighs. Squeezing the flesh in his strong, battered hands pleadingly. “You’d never hurt me, baby, ever. S’all I fucking want. Don’t want anything else but you. Only you. All of you. Want you everywhere.”
And you believe him. You do. But the idea of…and being that close…
“What…but what if it’s too much?” you murmur. “What if I’m too…—”
“Never.” A firm shake of his head. “Fucking never. You would never be too much. Believe me. Tasting you is the only good thing in my life.”
There’s a catch in your throat that you swallow down. “I just…I’ve never…”
His expression softens. Thumbs brushing at your exposed skin before squeezing once more. “It’s okay. S’okay, sweet girl, really. Don’t have to if you don’t want to. Don’t have to do anything at all. But…I promise you…you could never do anything wrong. Ever. You breathe and you’re perfect.”
And he’s so honest. So good. You know he means it, know he’d never lie about something like this. And you do trust him. More than anything. Trust that he’d never judge you or want anything more from you than what you’re willing to give.
“If you say no, then it’s no,” he adds gently. “End of. Promise.”
But that’s not your problem. You’d happily do anything and everything with him. But you’re worried about his injuries and all the blood he’s already lost. Granted, his suggestion would perhaps be the best alternative, but…
“Fine,” you whisper, squeezing his curls in your fist. “Okay. But you need to be very careful and very still. And if it starts to hurt, we stop. Okay?”
There’s a wicked gleam in his eye. One you recognize all too well, yet it merely makes your pulse jump.
“Okay,” he agrees, almost mischievously. “Deal. Just lead the way.”
You bite back a whimper before glancing toward his knuckles. “I need wrap your hands first—”
“No,” he interjects. “No, leave ‘em. Just for right now. Wanna see them when I hold you.”
And there’s something about the idea that leaves you breathless, making your nails curl into his scalp as if to drag him closer. “Are you sure—”
“Yes.” He tugs on the hem of your dress again, almost as though trying to rip it off. “Yes, m’sure. Please, Cher…”
And you have no choice but to oblige.
You reach down, take his hand, and pull him onto his feet. Quickly and impatiently leading him out of the bathroom and down the hall to your room before pushing the door open and bringing him inside.
He only takes a moment to look around, eyebrows raised while a smile plays at his lips. He studies the array of artwork you have displayed, the baby blue paint on your walls, and the plethora of pillows that sit near your headboard. He seems…enchanted, almost, and it makes you giddy.
“S’cute,” he decides, offering his smirk to you. “Very cute. Very you.”
“Thanks,” you reply anxiously, already looping your arms around his neck in order to yank him back down. “Please?”
He chuckles against your lips before dropping his hands to your waist, nodding once, and pushing you back. “Do you trust me, baby? Trust me to take care of you?”
“Yes,” you answer instantaneously. “Yes, always.”
“Yeah? Know I’ll take care of you?”
“Yes.”
He drops you onto the bed before chasing after you. Lips on your cheek, your neck, your chest. Fingers playing with the buttons on your chest before he whispers, “Can I take this off, sweet girl?”
You motion your head almost frantically, leaning back to give him room.
He undoes your dress and slips it over your head in a matter of seconds. Leaving you in nothing but your underwear as he tosses it toward the floor before surging forward to kiss you again.
He’s seen you before. Seen your chest, your stomach, your thighs. But never in the privacy of your own home, and the way he seems to look at you now feels as though it changes everything. Like he’s looking at you for the very first time.
“Baby,” he breathes, pulling your lip between his teeth before groaning. “God…s’fucking cruel you have to hide this behind such a hideous dress.”
You grin against his mouth, scooting back in order to make space for him. “Then maybe you should come around and take it off more often.”
He likes this idea, chuckling to himself before grabbing hold of your hips, and flipping over onto his back. Effectively pulling you with him until you’re straddling his waist.
With a gasp, you glance down to his newly stitched cut, quickly inspecting in order to make sure nothing has been ripped or pulled. “Harry, you can’t—”
“Shh,” he coos, pulling on the back of your neck to bring you down again. Nose nudging with yours. “M’okay. I’ll tell you, yeah?”
“But—”
“I’m all right,” he insists quietly. “Promise. Just need you.”
You swallow the rest of your complaints, allowing your body to be pulled into his before he’s moving both hands to your naked thighs. Stroking along the tender, soft flesh and kneading it tenderly.
“Think you’re ready, baby?” he whispers. “Hm? Gonna let me have a taste?”
And even if you’re somewhat apprehensive, the lust that swims within the bottom of your stomach makes you whimper. Urging you to say, “Yes. Yes, I’m ready.”
“Good girl,” he hums, gliding his palms toward your ass before patting it once. “Up you go.”
You imagine you seem somewhat terrified, but his look of encouragement goes straight to your cunt. Encouraging you up his body until you can place your knees on either side of his head.
“Good,” he breathes, eyes already gluing to your panties. “So good, baby. Can you hold onto me? Hold onto my hair? And tug it if it’s too much?”
You nod weakly and drop your fingers to his curls. Brushing them gently while he smiles, lashes fluttering.
“Good girl,” he says again, and it makes you clench around nothing. “M’gonna pull you down now, okay? Don’t worry about anything. Just let me make you feel good. Promise I’ll be all right.”
You whimper beneath a deep breath before nodding again and allowing him to guide you down to his face.
You feel the tip of his nose ghost across the edge of your panties, right near your clit. And you can help but buck up, gasping as you squirm away from the stimulating touch.
But his hold on you is unrelenting, tightening when he feels you twitch before yanking you back into position.
“Uh-uh, sweet girl, none of that,” he warns softly, mouth dancing down your covered cunt. Tauntingly. Deviously. “M’just having some fun, yeah? Gonna let me have fun with such a pretty pussy?”
When you don’t answer, he gently smacks his hand against the side of your thigh.
“Yes,” you answer quickly, gathering his curls in your fist. “Yes, I…I will.”
“Mm. Good. Cause m’having so much fun with you, Cher. You know that? Always have fun getting to play with what’s mine.”
This possession sends chills down your spine and your chest heaves from the way he flattens his tongue against your underwear before dragging it down.
He seems to bask in your whines, moaning against your cunt before curling his fingers into your skin. Forcing you down even further until you’re nearly sat on his mouth.
His technique is sinful. Just enough to tease you and leave you wanting more. Effortlessly casting out any doubts or hesitation as you begin to settle in his hold, permitting him to keep you against his tongue until he sighs contently.
“Fucking killing me, baby,” he says, lifting you up in order to reach for the soft material against your pussy and drag it to the side. “Ready, sweet girl?”
You nod quickly.
“Promise to tug me if it’s too much or you want to stop?”
“Yes…yes, Har, please—”
“I know,” he shushes. “Just so well behaved for me, aren’t you? Hold still for me, all right?”
You go to nod again, but before you can, his lips are meeting your clit. Pressing the most innocent of kisses to the sensitive nerves until you choke on his name and yank his curls.
He seems to realize this aggression has more to do with the pleasure than the pain, and you can practically feel him smirk into your cunt before he does it again. Over and over and over, making your eyes roll back and your throat run dry with desperate pants and whimpers.
Then…he sucks. Takes your clit into his mouth before flattening his tongue and dragging it through.
You’ve never felt this kind of stimulation. This kind of overwhelming pleasure that goes directly to your toes.
Sure, he’s eaten you out before, but he’s never been this…close. He’s devouring you from the inside out. Forcing you against his mouth as though his life depends on it. 
The hold on your hip is unforgiving, and you’re almost sure you’ll see remnants of him on your skin tomorrow. The tips of his fingers tattooing to your waist and marking you as his forevermore. 
You aren’t sure what to do with yourself. Overcome with lust and infatuation for the man between your thighs. The way he expertly slides his lips through your folds, drowning in you.
The tip of his tongue teases your hole, and you feel him groan at the way your pussy flutters from the slight intrusion. And the vibration of his greed makes your hands tighten in his hair. Nail scraping so hard down his scalp, you’re sure you’ll draw blood.
But he loves it. Seems to thrive off it. Going in a bit further before dragging your arousal up to your clit and flicking.
Then, he swallows you down.
“Harry,” you gasp, and you wish you could see him. Wish more than anything that you could gaze down at his face and watch while he does this to you. 
He always tends to get a sort of mesmeric look in his eye when he’s making you cum. Almost like he’s in a trance. Hypnotized by your body, drunk off the way he’s making you feel.
You imagine that’s about how he looks now, and you’d give anything to see those beautiful, hazy eyes just once.
“You’re okay,” he whispers, pulling away just long enough to speak. “You’re okay, yeah?”
You nod quickly. “Yes. Yes, I’m okay. I promise—please…”
He understands your request perhaps better than anyone and smiles to himself before going back in. It’s far too easy to unravel you, it seems. All he has to do is suck, and flick, and slide his mouth along your dripping pussy, and you’re done for. Already nearing release before he’s even really begun.
He senses this, and instantly goes harder. Faster. Tongue fucking into your clenching hole relentlessly until you cry out his name…and let go.
You hardly have time to register what’s happening or warn him of your impending orgasm. Nor do you have the time to remove yourself from him before accidently crushing him between your thighs and beneath your weight.
Yet through every second, he holds on. Keeps you exactly where you were, stuck in his hold, glued to his tongue. Until every drop of your cum belongs to him.
“Har…Harry,” you pant, uncurling your fingers from his hair. “Okay, it’s okay…I came, I—”
“I know,” he mumbles, leaving another kiss to your clit. “And you’re gonna do it again.”
It’s resolute. He leaves no room for bargaining or questioning before he’s going back in. Quick flicks of his tongue through your pussy until you feel breathless.
It’s sloppy. Everything about it is sloppy and wet. The sounds, his technique. The way he makes out with your cunt as though it’s the best thing he’s ever had. And, truthfully, you imagine he believes it is.
He repeats the movement of his tongue along the overstimulated nerves until you begin to shake. Never letting up, even when you begin to whine rather pitifully. Instead, he squeezes your waist, and keeps you close. Makes sure you take every second of this blissful affliction until you cum for a second time. 
The moment you do, he readjusts his hold on your panties in order to slip a finger inside. Forcing you up onto your knees so he can nip at your clit and fuck his finger into you with a newly determined fervor.
“Harry,” you cry out again, moving one hand to your headboard to brace yourself. “Can’t…can’t—”
“You’re all right,” he hums, the tip of his nose pressing hard into your skin. “You’re all right, sweet girl. Just want one more, okay?”
 And you believe him. You do believe you’re all right, even if the painful pleasure he’s dragging you into nearly kills you. Making your legs shake and your lungs heave.
You want to give him another. You want to give him all of your orgasms, forever. And he knows this, so he adds a second finger, and pumps you mercilessly.
The sound echoes through your room, loud and lewd. But it intertwines beautifully with his soft murmurs of encouragement: 
“Good, baby, just like that. Fucking squeezin’ me, aren’t you? Hm? S’it feel good? Feel so good to ride my face?”
You can’t answer. Want to. Can’t. Skin growing hot as sweat beads at your hairline. Muscles burning, aching, crying out for reprieve.
But all you really feel…is him.
“One more, come on,” he urges, increasing the speed of his tongue and his thrusts. “Can feel how close you are, sweet girl. Know you want to, yeah?”
You whimper softly, body tensing with the impending release.
“Yeah? I know. Know you’re so close. Bet it hurts, doesn’t it? S’just too much for this sweet little pussy, hm?”
He curls those long digits into your cunt until you moan, thighs trembling beside his head as you attempt to keep yourself upright. “Har, please—”
“What? What do you need?”
Everything, all of it, whatever it takes. You aren’t even sure, you just need…more.
He moves his mouth to the inside of your leg. Kissing and sucking into the tender skin while his fingers continue to encourage you closer. 
“Just taste so good, don’t you?” He trails his lips back toward your cunt. Lazily mouthing at your clit as if to torture you. “Get so wet for me. S’precious. So fucking precious.”
He uses his fingers to spread you open. Exhaling against your dripping cunt until you begin to squirm. Writhing away from the sensation while he does it again.
“Mm-mm,” he tuts, pulling you closer. “Told you no, sweet girl. Said I could play with you, so I am. Thought you were behaving for me?”
He exploits your need to please him. To obey and win his approval, and it nearly drives you mad.
“Know it’s a lot, baby,” he coos next, slipping back inside and curling. “Know you’re all sensitive. Not used to being so overstimulated, are you?”
He’s right, you’re not. Apart from him, nobody else has ever really taken the time.
“Makes me wonder,” he continues gently. “Wonder how you touch yourself…here in this very room.”
He pulls your clit between his teeth and tugs until you gasp.
“Tell me, Cherry. Tell me how you touch yourself when I’m not around.”
Your mind goes blank. Darkening around the edges while you suck in quick pants for air.
“Tell me,” he repeats, coarse and riddled with an insatiable hunger. “Tell me what you think about. D’you think about me, baby? Think about how good you look on my tongue?”
You find just enough strength to nod as you squeeze his curls and whimper out your agreement. 
“Yeah? Go on, tell me.”
Your mouth drops open, yet nothing else comes out. Save for a plethora of pathetic whines and anxious mewling.
He seems to laugh, the low sound sending goosebumps across the back of your neck. “What’s the matter, Cher? Pussy got your tongue?”
You can hardly acknowledge the joke as you go reeling forward, just barely able to catch yourself against the headboard before collapsing. “You…you,” you finally groan. “Always you, Harry. Always.”
“Me?” You can hear the faux fascination. “You think about me, baby? What do you think about?”
What don’t you think about? “Your…your fingers,” you stammer. “And…and your mouth.”
“Yeah? Good girl. What else?”
You’re too close to think straight, already falling victim to your orgasm before it’s even found you. “You…your…your…”
“S’okay, baby, come on. Tell me.”
You swallow thickly and will yourself to speak. “Think…think about taking you. About how you’d feel. How you’d…be.”
“How I’d be, hm?” The hand on your hip tightens almost possessively. “How would you want me to be? How would you want me to fuck you?”
 An array of positions flash through your mind. The echoing of his groans and pants in your ear as he fucks you. The way he’d hold onto your leg and push it into the bed. The way he’d pull your hair and demand you take him. That you behave, be good. 
There’s something about him, you realize. Something about his dominance that makes you feel safe. Seen and cared for.
You want him to tell you what to do. Want to give him full control of your body and mind. Make your decisions for you so you don’t have to wrestle with them yourself. You trust him. Trust that he’d always put you first.
“Any way you want,” you finally answer. “Any…any way. Hard…slow…fast…deep. Just wanna be good for you.”
The noise he makes against your pussy is animistic. Virile and obsessed, and his mouth reattaches to your clit almost like a reward. 
“Good,” he nearly growls. “Know you would be. Know you’d be fucking perfect, yeah? Let me stretch this sweet, little pussy anyway I’d like?”
 “Yes. Yes, Harry, please—”
“Just take it, wouldn’t you? Take me so well?” He yanks you down so hard, you wonder if he can even breathe. Truthfully, you don’t think he cares either way. “What else do you think about, sweet girl? Think about me tying you up?”
You nod zealously, sneaking a glance at the headboard almost as though to recreate your fantasy. 
“Yeah? What else? Would you want me to spank you?” He follows this inquiry up with a quick – albeit gentle – slap to your outer thigh. “S’that what you want?”
“Harry—”
“What about your pretty, little throat, hm? D’you want me to hold it in my hand? Squeeze it till you see stars?”
The thought sends you into a frenzy. Stomach flipping in on itself until you’re clenching so hard around his fingers, you’re surprised they don’t break.
“Yeah? Oh, sweet girl,” he coos, slowly and almost inconspicuously sneaking a third digit into play. Filling you exactly the way you need. “My dirty little Cherry just wants to be taken care of, doesn’t she?”
You have nothing more to offer him. No more noises, no more whines, no more pleas. Your throat has gone dry, and your body is trembling almost violently.
He grins. “Then I’ll always take care of what’s mine.”
You’re not sure what does it. If it’s the way he strokes his fingers into that sweet spot in your cunt, the way he skims his tongue against your clit, or if it’s his promise. 
But no matter the cause, your third orgasm overwhelms you. Pulls you down into the deepest part of your pleasure before ripping you apart. Seam by seam.
He swallows every second of it. Attempting to drag the stimulation on for as long as he can before you have to psychically take yourself away in order to breathe. 
“Okay, okay,” you whimper, returning to the bed just beside him. “Can’t…I can’t…”
“Okay,” he agrees in a soft, soothing tone. Quicky reaching out to press his hand to your cheek while his thumb brushes at your heated skin. “Okay, we’re done. Did so good for me.”
Your lashes flutter as your vision slowly returns, and when you see him, you about moan.
During his ravaging of your pussy, the cut on his lip reopened, and now, blood is smeared across his mouth and chin. Glistening from his skin right beside the remnants of you.
You don’t imagine you’ve ever seen something so erotic. You also never imagined you’d find it so appealing, and yet the way it looks painted across his sharp jaw and swollen lips…
You surge forward and kiss him. So hard and so fast, you imagine you’ve made him dizzy. 
Instantly, his palm is pressing to the back of your head. Keeping you against his mouth while slowly pulling you back into his embrace. And he holds you against his chest while moaning something that sounds a lot like, “Fucking hell.”
 You kiss until the sun comes up. The soft, warm beams of light slipping through your curtains, setting the whole room – and your tired bodies – aglow. 
His mouth moves to your neck. “You still with me, baby?”
You smile. “Always.”
“Good.” He leaves one, final kiss. “And you’re feeling all right?”
“Mhm. Are you?”
“Oh, I’m more than all right, sweet girl. M’fucking perfect.”
He guides back onto his chest. Limbs tangling together as he puts your body between his legs until he can hold you properly. Even despite your fussing over his injuries.
But it’s not until you’ve begun to settle that you feel it. “Harry?” you whisper softly.
“Mm?”
“…did you cum?”
He smiles before pressing his lips to your forehead. “Yeah.”
“But I didn’t…I mean I didn’t get to—"
“You just have that effect on me, Cher,” he murmurs, snaking his arms a bit tighter around your frame. “Told you. Making you feel good is all I want.”
You glance up, expression wounded. “Why won’t you let me help? I thought…I mean, you keep saying you want me to, but you never…you won’t let me.”
The bedroom falls silent as he considers this. The sage green in his eye melting into something golden from the reflection of the sunrise.
He reaches out and brushes his thumb across your mouth. Seeming to clean you of the blood that smeared when you kissed.
“I didn’t want this to be about me,” he finally says. “I never do.”
You merely frown. “But I want to do it. Do you not…I mean, do you think I can’t or something?”
A soft chuckle. “Oh, I know you can. Know you’d use this pretty little mouth just right, yeah?”
You nod.
“Yeah.” He squeezes your chin. “I meant what I said. One day. There are a lot of things I want to do with you. Be for you. But right now, I can’t…I’m not in a place where I can offer them to you. Not with…everything else going on.”
Your stomach sinks as you realize. You might not understand the complexities of his job or his life, but you do understand his concern. And you trust that he doesn’t make this decision lightly. 
“Besides,” he adds coyly, “they kind of have a rule about it.”
“Oh, do they?”
“Yeah. Something about reduced testosterone and decreased aggression. I don’t know, s’probably bullshit.” A nonchalant shrug. “Just means I get to keep the focus on you. Which is all I really want, anyway.”
“I can tell,” you tease, reaching up to brush your nose against his. “Why is that?”
“Because you’re perfect.” He says it so easily. As though it needs no thought. “Baby, you have no fucking idea how beautiful you are. Touching you is the closest I will ever get to heaven.”
You wonder how he does that. How he always manages to say exactly what you need to hear. And make you believe it. Every time.
You kiss him again, but it’s slow. Soft and gentle and full of an unspoken emotion that nearly overwhelms you. 
You fall asleep against his heart. His lips in your hair, your fingers on his chest. And for the next few hours, you dream of nothing but him.
By the time you wake, it��s nearly afternoon. Your muscles are sore and your body aches from the decisions and positions of the night before. 
But it’s a good sort of pain. The kind that reminds you of how willing you are to do it again.
You’re both quiet as you stir, and it’s comfortable. As though you’re used to waking up together. Exchanging nothing more than smiles and a hoarse, “Morning.”
After offering him some cereal, you ask if he’d like to take a shower. Maybe change into something else before you take him back to the diner so he can retrieve his car and you can pick up yours from your friend.
He politely declines, but he does agree to your stipulation that you check his wounds before you leave. He even stands perfectly still while you assess each cut and stitch in order to make sure everything is still in place.
Which to your surprise, it is.
Once you’ve gathered your things, you exit your apartment (after locking it as previously instructed), and head for the subway station.
It’s almost strange to see him in the light of day. He’s still as effortlessly striking as before, if not perhaps more. His skin looks a bit more tan, and his hair seems softer in the sun. But he walks with a kind of confidence you almost envy, slinging his arm around your shoulders just like the night before. This time, out of possession.
And you grin the whole way there.
It feels normal. Feels good. Natural. Like it was always meant to be. You and him. Always.
Your heart begins to sink with each step closer you get to the diner. You cling to his hoodie as though it physically hurts to say goodbye. And in turn, he pulls you in tighter to his heart, as if refusing to let you.
“I’ll walk you in,” he murmurs once you reach the parking lot, and you nod gratefully. Already taking in a deep breath as you prepare to watch him leave.
You see your car near the front of the diner, signaling that your friend is here to drop off the keys. And you almost feel nervous because you aren’t sure how to explain Harry. Or if you even need to explain him at all. 
If he’d want you to.
A part of you wants to protect him from everybody else. From their prying eyes and inquisitive questions. From their haughty, judgmental stares and this idea that they know who he really is.
Instead, you take his hand in yours, and squeeze. Offering him one last smile to hold you over until you see him again.
Which you can only hope will be soon.
He pushes the door open and leads you inside. Loosening his grip on you almost regretfully while your heart sinks down into your toes.
But the moment you both step beneath the light, he stops. Suddenly and with a strained inhale as fingers retighten around yours, halting you in place.
Concerned, you glance over the side of his face rather curiously before following his eyeline further into the diner.  
And that’s when you see him. 
“Hey, thanks again for letting me borrow your car,” your friend says, sliding off one of the barstools in order to hand you your keys. “I really appreciate it. It was a huge help.”
“Oh, yeah, no problem,” you murmur before looking back to the tense man beside you. “Uh…this is my friend, Jesse. And Jesse, this is—”
“Harry,” Jesse says for you, lips curling up almost knowingly before he’s nodding once. 
Now even more confused, your head tilts while Harry’s skin instantly pales, his jaw clenching as his grip on your hand gets stronger.
But despite your muddled expression, Jesse merely chuckles to himself and steps forward, dragging his eyes from you to the tall stranger holding you.
“I see you finally found my girl.”
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EEEEE I AM HAVING WAY TOO MUCH FUN
Next Part:
~ Reckless*
Previous Part:
~ Knockout*
~ Full Knockout Masterlist
~ Main Masterlist
Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞
Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgff@myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @iguessyourejustwhatineeded @lovebittenbyevans @caynonmoondreams @amberbambridge @percysaidnever @prettydelilah @ripesinner @fairytale07 @hannah9921 @mitochondrialeva-blog1 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @buckybarnessimpp @lomlhstyles @be-with-me-so-happily @daphnesutton @ribbonknives @stylesfever @slutforcoffein @rainycowbride @harringtonhundreds @kaybee87 @youcan-nolonger-run @tobesocoldasyou @dylanobandposts21 @cherryshouse
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asceluffy · 5 months
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How OP MEN would react if you told them to leave you while you’re wounded during a battle.
cw: mentions of blood and injuries. gn!reader
Luffy
“Luffy, leave me and continue fighting.” You’d say as you lay on ground with blood dripping out your fresh cuts.
He’d pause for a bit, brows knitted.
“Huh? Why would I? Are you stupid?” Blunt as ever.
You’d cough up some blood when you chuckle at his words, in which in turn would alarm him.
“Oi oi oi, stop! you’re hurting yourself more!” A panicked look on his face.
You’d push him away with all the strength left in you and he’d contemplate.
“Just—stay here ok? I’ll kick the enemy’s ass in 10 seconds and come back for you.” Then he’d take off, a surge of determination coursing through him.
Law
“Captain, leave me and continue to fight!” You’d say with shaky breath.
He would click his tongue, clearly pissed.
“Don’t give me that crap, (name)-ya! You’re clearly on the brink of death!” He’d sigh as he puts up his hand so he can start treating you with his powers.
You’d swat his hand in protest, folding it before he could say “Room…”
“Hurry, Law! The others need your aid, I’ll be fine!” He’d glare at you but sigh.
While gritting his teeth he’d say, “You better stick with your words.” Before joining the others in the battle.
He had to be quick, he can’t bear the thought of losing someone he loves dearly again.
Zoro
“Zoro! Don’t lower you guard and continue fighting!” You’d say as you clutch on your torso—probably 5-8 broken ribs if your hunch is true.
“You’re an like idiot like that cook!” He’d reprimand you, helping you lean on a wall. “No way in hell I’m leaving you to die here!”
You’d groan in pain, making his angry look dissolve into a worried one.
“C’mon, I’ll get you to Chopper.” He’d say, putting your arm around his shoulder. But before he could do that, you’d pull away.
“I said I’m fine, Zoro!” You’d argue, trying to mask the pain behind your voice. “Or are you underestimating me?”
At your last sentence he’d smirk, putting the hilt of Wado Ichimoji between his teeth and biting on it.
“If you die, I’ll kill you.” He’d say seriously, before turning his back to you and continue slashing the enemies.
Sanji
He’d immediately stop on his tracks when he heard a blood curdling scream from you.
Knowing that it was because you were trying to protect him from an enemy who was about to attack his unguarded back, it made him feel much much worse.
As swift as he was, he’d be able to catch you before you could even fall on the ground.
You’d look up at him as he asks you if you were ok, immediately scanning the room and screaming for Chopper’s aid.
“Sanji, I’ll be fine—please, save our allies.”
Then, you’d notice how his lips trembled a bit. That voice you just spoke with him just reminded him of his mother, so delicate, so comforting.
“No, no, no. I won’t leave you here.” He’d say with a soft voice, using Sky Walk so the two of you can leave in the midst of the battle.
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lovelyhan · 1 year
Text
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— favorite poison ⟢
pairing: wonwoo x reader
summary: no strings attached sex is easy. catching feelings for a person you supposedly hate is hard. it's in times like this when wonwoo wishes he can set the dial to his life on easy mode forever, but everyone knows he's nothing if not stubbornly competitive.
word count: 15.5k words
tags: fuck buddies, not quite enemies to lovers, streamer!wonwoo, streamer!reader, attempt at humor, in denial!wonwoo, angst, smut
warnings: mentions of twitter porn, brief discussions of past trauma, slut shaming, mild violence (wonwoo punches someone in the face), graphic sexual content (minors dni!!)
notes: this is the sequel to underlying pretense! thank you so much for waiting so so patiently for this second part! big thank you to @playmetheclassics for proofreading this monster sequel for me >< i wouldn't have done this without you, indi UEUEUE
this is part of the game over series!
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smut tags: implied semi-public sex, game chair sex? jealousy, clothed sex, use of handcuffs, brief spanking, car sex, unprotected sex, oral (m and f receiving), fingering, degradation, dirty talk, daddy kink, hard and soft dom wonwoo, creampie, cum eating, aftercare
svt taglist: @wonderfulshinee - @misssugarlips - @yourfavoritefreakyhan - @jeanjacketjesus - @just-here-to-read-01 - @hanihans - @venusrae - @taestrwbrry - @minnie-mouser22 - @dreamhannies - @thvhannie - @kkooongie - @gae-uls - @lenireads - @gaebestie - @ryusha-rose - @enhacolor - @ilyvern - @woo8hao - @tommolex
wonwoo taglist: @renjunphile - @acgyu - @potatofrieswithketchup - @pluviophile-xxx - @pretty-trustme
fic taglist: @appachicken - @bekah931215
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part one - part two - part three - part four
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“So when are you introducing me?” 
The buzz of visitors inside the convention hall is already grating enough as it is, but when Mingyu walks over to Wonwoo’s designated booth, all it does is irritate him further.
He doesn’t exactly have to do anything aside from receive gifts from the viewers coming to pay him a visit and take a few photos with them, but Wonwoo is yet to accustom himself to being the center of attraction in front of so many people. So listening to his roommate-slash-best friend asking him stupid questions isn’t helping his case.
“To who? My family?” Wonwoo scoffs. 
Mingyu rolls his eyes. “No. Your girlfriend, genius.”
“What the hell are you even talking about?”
His best friend pouts, and Wonwoo is having a really tough time taking him seriously because Mingyu is wearing one of those hats with bunny ears that flop around if you press the buttons dangling from the front. “You’re always scampering off with some girl from time to time. The others haven’t noticed, but I’m your roommate, hyung.”
Roughly three months have passed since Wonwoo bit the bullet and agreed to be your…fuck buddy? Not-so-friend with benefits? Whatever this arrangement is called, he’s satisfied with getting to let off steam every once in a while, and you don’t seem to have any complaints as long as he fucked you stupid and helped you make filthy content for all the world to see. 
Honest to god, it’s a miracle how shit hasn’t hit the fan yet. But then again, you and Wonwoo were both careful and extremely selective about what gets posted on your secret Twitter porn account and what stays tucked away in the hidden galleries in your phones. That sort of cautiousness is rewarded with having to get away with everything you’re both daring enough to pull off behind the scenes.
Still, it doesn’t change the fact that, outside his sexual relations with you, Twitch streamers everyone_woo and Koyahngi pretty much hate each other’s guts. Even if yours is the best fucking pussy he’s ever had (something you’ll never catch him dead admitting aloud), he’s not about to do a complete one-eighty and treat you any differently in front of his friends and followers. You don’t seem to have any plans on doing that either.
Wonwoo hasn’t once brought you to their shared apartment, so he’s certain that Mingyu is basing all his hunches on pure intuition alone. And just because that intuition turns out to be somewhat right (PSA: you’re not his girlfriend) doesn’t mean Wonwoo has to come clean about his goings-on.
Besides, they’re at a fucking convention. Why is Mingyu trying to hotseat him now? 
“What gave you the impression that I’m ‘scampering off’ with just one girl?” Wonwoo smirks, shaking his head. 
“Whatever you say, elusive gamer who hasn’t felt the touch of a woman that isn’t his mom.”
“Fuck you. You know that’s not true.”
“Well, obviously, you’re smitten with someone, and once I find out who it is, I’m throwing the biggest party in Seoul,” Mingyu says with a huff of indignance coloring his words. He says it like it’s a threat, and Wonwoo makes a face at him. 
“Why?” he asks with a scowl.
“Because I love you, that’s why.” Mingyu then takes off the stupid hat and places it on top of Wonwoo’s head—even putting the work into making sure it fits and everything. “Anyway, I’m heading to Koyahngi’s booth to say hi. You wanna come with, or do you still have a stick up your ass when it comes to hanging out with her?”
Wonwoo has to keep himself from blurting out how he’s not the one with anything up his ass when it comes to you but realizes that if he wants to get Mingyu off his back, he probably shouldn’t make traumatizing allusions to his sex life. 
“I can’t exactly leave my spot until the main program starts. The same goes for you, idiot,” Wonwoo points out. “Who knows how many of your subscribers are looking for you at your booth? Go away and tend to them first.”
Mingyu pouts again, but since his best friend is a guy that’s literally a six-foot wall of muscle, Wonwoo doesn’t feel even an ounce of sympathy for him. “I haven’t even been gone for ten minutes! I just wanted to see how my friends are doing.”
“Then you shouldn’t have set up a booth at all, Gyu.” 
“Hmph. You’re always so stingy, hyung.” Mingyu crosses his arms before turning on his heel. “Anyway, I’m heading over to Koyahngi’s. I heard she’s cosplaying Sage today. Not that you care, though.”
He sounds so genuinely sulky that Wonwoo would’ve laughed a little as Mingyu stomps away to head to your booth. But the mention of you dressing up as a Valorant agent that Wonwoo has started to despise since meeting you makes a couple of memories from earlier this week resurface in his mind. 
Aside from the catgirl gimmick, your cosplays are but another selling point for your streams. You dubbed it the catgirlification of every playable character I like right after Wonwoo railed you two days ago in that same Sage cosplay that Mingyu just mentioned. 
What a fucking weirdo, Wonwoo mused for a second before blowing your back out again, not five minutes later.
About an hour later, the program on the main stage was in full swing, and Wonwoo had just finished doing a little segment with Soonyoung that one of the fans who won a raffle requested for them to do. It was a Pocky Game that got a little too intense because Soonyoung wouldn’t stop fucking squirming, and they nearly kissed in front of the entire audience. Wonwoo doesn’t entirely mind because PR is PR, after all.
The thing he does end up minding, though, comes a little later—after the convention hall settles into a more relaxed atmosphere and everyone is back to booth-hopping. 
Despite what he told Mingyu earlier, Wonwoo took it upon himself to do some wandering around. It’s kind of nice to see other streamers and content creators he’s only ever got to interact with on Discord or their respective streams.
But while he’s munching on a cherry-shaped cookie that Seungcheol is handing out to his visitors, the bane of his existence swoops down on him just when he thought he could finish this entire event in peace.
“Hey, daddy,” you giggle into his ear before swiping the cookie out of his hands, tossing it into your mouth without a second thought. “Didn’t think I’d get to see you today.”
Wonwoo clicks his tongue before shrugging off the arm you draped around his shoulder. “What do you want?”
“Nothing in particular,” you hum before swallowing the food you just stole from him. “But now that I got a taste of Cheol’s cherry cookies, I kinda want some more. Do you know where he is?” 
“I think I saw him flirting with a bunch of cosplayers near the stage.”
Wonwoo startles at the sound of a third party’s voice intruding in your conversation, and from the looks of it, you’re just as startled as he is. Turning around, though, his apprehension ebbs away when he recognizes who it is.
“Johnny,” he says with a small surprised smile before offering his hand for a casual shake. “It’s been a while.”
The famous streamer returns Wonwoo’s gesture gingerly, but he realizes that Johnny’s gaze isn’t trained on him at all. 
“It has been,” he chuckles before turning to you. “I didn’t know you were friends with Wonwoo, doll. How you got someone as cold as he is to warm up to you is beyond me, but at least you’re expanding your network.”
Wonwoo would’ve rolled his eyes. Johnny is just as frank as he remembers. But before Wonwoo can point out that: 1.) you and him are not friends, and 2.) he is not a cold person and therefore has absolutely no need to warm up to anyone, he quickly picks up on the sudden shift in the air. And it’s not his or Johnny’s discomfort he’s sensing right now. 
“Nah, you’ve got the wrong idea,” you respond to Johnny casually, but Wonwoo doesn’t miss how your fists are clenched at your sides. “Wonwoo would rather get banned from Twitch than call me his friend. I just like pissing him off every now and again, is all~ That, and his friends are pretty cool, so I need to tolerate him.”
Johnny laughs before reaching down to ruffle your carefully styled wig. To others, it would’ve looked like a display of casual affection between friends, but Wonwoo is keen enough to notice how you momentarily flinched from the older streamer’s touch. His brows knit together as he attempts to figure out what was going on.
Actually, how do you even know Johnny in the first place?
“Anyway, I’ll be going now,” he laughs before letting one eye drop into a wink. “It’s good to see both of you. Enjoy the rest of the convention, yeah?”
As Johnny exits, you’re a little too quick to fill in the silence he left.
“You’ve gotta take me to Cheol before he runs out of cookies,” you whine, tugging on his arm with a persistent look on his face—not even breathing a word about Johnny, as if it hasn’t been two minutes since he left. “I’m pretty sure I saw him wearing a Pikachu onesie, so he should be easy to—”
Wonwoo immediately cuts you off with a quick yank of your wrist. As he leads you to one of the unoccupied restrooms near the convention hall, your voice drones in annoyingly repetitive succession in his ears while you struggle to free yourself from his grip, but Wonwoo just won’t budge.
Not when he can’t get the sight of you with genuine fear in your gaze when you first laid your eyes on Johnny out of his head.
“Shit,” you whisper hoarsely the moment Wonwoo slams you against the door—a shit-eating grin resting haughtily on your lips as he nudges your thighs apart. “I knew you were possessive, but not this much. Johnny just gave me a few head pats, daddy. It doesn’t mean a thing.”
Yeah. Wonwoo is totally doing this out of some pathetic, alpha male need to stake his claim after another man got his grubby hands on you. Not because he was bothered by that look on your face and can’t think of any other way to help get your mind off it aside from fucking you senseless in a public bathroom.
“Shut up,” he murmurs before forcing your cheek against the cold door. “Now, take off your leggings before I tear a hole in them myself. Can’t mess up your perfect fucking Sage cosplay now, can we?”
You let out a noise caught between a sigh and a whimper as you do as you're told. From three months ago to now, your general opinion on Jeon Wonwoo as a dom has yet to change. Even if he was about to rail you with a fluffy bunny beanie still resting on top of his head.
He’s fucking perfect.
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Right after that unplanned quickie, Wonwoo is at least keen enough to observe his surroundings as both of you discreetly part ways and sneak back into the convention. Since the main events were taking place on the other side of the venue, not a lot of people were milling around, and he thankfully manages to blend into the crowd without rousing everyone’s suspicion. 
Well, almost everyone.
“You’re a pretty shitty actor; you know that?”
Wonwoo doesn’t have to turn around to recognize the smugness in Seungcheol’s tone. The moment he lays his eyes on one of his closest friends—still wearing that silly Pikachu onesie and giving out his cherry cookies—he knows he can’t weasel himself out of this conversation so easily. 
“What do you mean?” Wonwoo says, deciding to play along to gauge what Seungcheol does and doesn’t know.
The older man scoffs. “Come on, Wonwoo-yah. You weren’t being very discreet when you pulled our very good cat girl friend into the restroom. Doesn’t help that you both came out looking dishevelled as fuck. So much for hating each other, huh?” 
Okay. He has nothing left to hide then. Great.
“Were we that obvious?” Wonwoo lowers his voice into a whisper, and the only reason he’s genuinely asking is because Seungcheol isn’t the type to joke around about these kinds of things.
“Only to the eyes of someone who personally knows the both of you,” he snickers. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”
Wonwoo’s brows knit together, perplexed, but offers no more smart retorts. His heart is still pounding in his chest at the thought of having been seen with you. Fuck. He isn’t usually this careless. Then and there, he makes a mental note to not let his emotions pull the reins on his decisions next time.
“Thanks, hyung,” is all he tells Seungcheol in return. “I’m heading back. Uh, she was looking for you, by the way. Something about wanting more of your cookies.”
Seungcheol visibly perks up at the news, and Wonwoo has to resist the urge to roll his eyes. What is it with his friends and having some weird soft spot for you? 
As Wonwoo quietly slips back into his booth—greeting a bunch of his fans but not in a sociable mood—he recalls the prickle of heat in his chest when he saw how uncomfortable you were during that short conversation with Johnny. The memory makes his curiosity spike again, and he considers asking you about it the next time you invite him over.
But then he reminds himself that he does not have a soft spot for you unlike his friends. None at all. He’s just being a decent human being for having a modicum of concern because of how you reacted towards someone Wonwoo knows to be completely harmless. 
Aside  from the occasional NSFW spam on Twitter, Johnny’s pretty harmless, right?
“Hyung! Group pic, c’mon!” 
Wonwoo hears Mingyu call out to him several booths over and sighs. He probably shouldn’t put too much thought into something he won’t be able to figure out in the next five minutes anyway.
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The next time Wonwoo comes over to your apartment is to try out some new heart-shaped handcuffs you bought online. You wouldn’t stop gushing about it to him over text, and he has half the mind to just cuff you to the bed and leave because of how annoying you’re being.
But for some reason, the handcuffs lay forgotten on your unmade bed as Wonwoo sits right in front of your set-up—begrudgingly listening to your instructions as he attempts to solve an overworld puzzle in that stupid game you and Soonyoung kept pestering him to play. Genshin Impact, yeah, that’s the one. 
“You have to hit the purple towers with Electro attacks, idiot,” you sigh. “Dendro is for green towers. Hydro is for blue towers. Did you happen to skip kindergarten or something?”
“I thought elemental reactions applied to these, too,” he grumbles. “You’re the one who said that Dendro and Hydro are good with Electro.” 
“Yeah, yeah, keep making excuses, color dunce.”
Normally, Wonwoo wouldn’t have taken the insult lying down, but he stubbornly chooses to solve the puzzle until he’s finally unlocked the hidden desert area you claimed to be ‘too lazy to figure out right away’. A hint of smugness crosses his features as he flashes you a triumphant grin. Wonwoo half-expects you to just roll your eyes and blame his progress on dumb luck or something, but to his surprise, you clap your hands gleefully before placing a sloppy kiss on his cheek.
“Who’s my smart little gamer, huh?”
“Fuck off.”
It’s perfectly normal for him to hear you challenge his authority outside the bedroom. After all, you’ve made it your life’s mission to push all of Wonwoo’s buttons until he cracks and manhandles you in a way that leaves no room for your brattiness to slip out. Sometimes he likes to think that you rile him up on purpose because the so-called consequences end up rewarding you sexually tenfold instead. Which, Wonwoo thinks, is fucking sick, but from how much he lets you get away with it anyway, he figures that he’s got a few screws loose himself.
“Anyway, how about we check if you’ve got shit luck on gacha games or not,” you announce before nudging your customized gaming chair with your foot—the same one Wonwoo’s currently sitting on—so you can have better access to your mouse and keyboard. “Soonyoung’s luck is abysmal as hell. The only reason he’s got such a spiffy account is because of all those sponsors.”
Wonwoo scoffs. “Are you saying yours is any better?”
“Hey, I’ve got decent luck, mind you,” you huff before clicking a few times, and a new window pulls up on-screen, which Wonwoo recognizes as the wishing page. Soonyoung has shown it to him and the other guys enough times to remember what it looks like.
“Go on, just click the times ten button,” you urge him before tugging your gaming chair back to its original position. “It’s gonna let you wish for a character ten times, basically.”
“I know how gacha games work,” Wonwoo bites back.
“Of course you do,” you coo as he finally does a full summons.
He swears he’s going to edge you until you’re begging and crying later. It’s the least you could do for being such a pain in—
His vengeful thoughts are interrupted when you gasp out loud—eyes glued to the monitor as the shooting star glows like iridescent gold. Wonwoo doesn’t know shit about Genshin, but he’s pretty sure he just pulled a really rare character.
“I just pulled a five-star yesterday.” You scowl, staring at him disbelievingly. “How on earth—”
To your dismay, Wonwoo accidentally clicks on your mouse—ending the entire animation sequence a bit too early. But just when you’re about to berate him for being impatient, your jaw practically falls to the floor when you see all ten of your (technically Wonwoo’s) wish results.
He managed to bring home the featured five-star character five times. Five fucking times. Holy shit?
As you visibly freak out in your seat, bemoaning the fact that this legendary pull happened off-stream, Wonwoo stares at you bizarrely like he always does. You immediately take a screenshot, explaining that the probability of what just happened was several times less likely than you letting him fuck you while you’re livestreaming, but Wonwoo’s mind wanders a little right after that.
So…you would let him fuck you on stream, then? 
Not that it’s something he’s thought about before. Wonwoo likes the privacy your set-up affords him with, and he’s not about to jeopardize that with by committing such an inexplicable act of exhibitionism. But the mere picture it paints in his head is enough to make him swallow thickly. 
One of your stupidly short skirts bunched up to your waist. His hands kneading your breasts as he snaps his hips from behind you. All those pretty noises you make only for him now being heard by your incel-ridden fanbase. He bets they’d even like seeing their beloved Koyahngi get railed on-cam, but the thought of anyone else seeing you in ways only Wonwoo has had the privilege to makes his blood boil.
“Hm? You’ve gone quiet. What’s up?”
His eyes flicker over to your form—knees pressed against your chest underneath the oversized tee you’re wearing. You like to dress comfortably when you’re off-stream, which is understandable because even if you’re just sitting in front of a computer screen, doing so in full cosplay can be a huge hassle. He’s always wondered how you have it in you to put in all that effort for your viewers.
Curiosity lingers in your gaze when he prolongs the silence, but Wonwoo can’t bring himself to answer—mind too preoccupied with a whirlwind of thoughts to articulate any sort of reply. 
He can excuse those horny assholes on Twitter—your main target audience for the filthier content you make on the side. They have no idea who it is they’re really jacking off to anyway. But if some lesser man deigns to even think he deserves to look at you—the real you—while you’re writhing in the throes of pleasure…
You let out an undignified yelp when Wonwoo abruptly pulls you onto his lap, awkwardly straddling him as he stares at you intensely through the lens of his glasses. He can vaguely hear you muttering something about impatient men under your breath, but Wonwoo knows your irritation with him holds little to no weight with how you fold your legs on either side of his hips so his large hands can have better access to your ass.
“This is what you invited me for, isn’t it?” he murmurs, giving your backside a squeeze that has you mewling in response. 
Wonwoo smirks. What a needy little thing.
You gulp. “Y-Yeah, but—”
“Strip.”
“Wonwoo, I’ve gotta post about the wish results!”
He stares at you, unimpressed, and lets his hands fall onto the arm rests of your gaming chair, making you whimper at the loss of his touch. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”
The effect of his authoritative tone manifests all too quickly. You bite your lower lip as you tug on the hem of your shirt, lifting it up just to tease a sliver of skin underneath. Wonwoo narrows his eyes, fully cognizant of what you’re trying to do, but it seems that you know better than to piss him off even further. 
Your shirt falls to the floor and Wonwoo has to keep himself from groaning at the sight before him. It’s one thing for you to forego a bra, but panties, too?
“Do you like it, daddy?” 
Knowing you, the question is meant to taunt than anything else, but Wonwoo lets it pass anyway.
It always drives him mad, how subtle you are whenever you want to get a rise out of him. The way you roll your hips into Wonwoo’s has a tantalizing feel to it and he has to grit his teeth to keep himself from snapping. He’ll play your games and drag this on for as long as he has to. Because he’s been with you long enough to know how much you love it when Wonwoo lets you have an illusion of authority for a sliver of a second, only to bully you into submission right after. 
“Fuck,” you whisper the moment the outline of his erection grazes your bare pussy. “Missed your cock so much… It’s been a while since I’ve had you inside me.”
Wonwoo scoffs. “And whose fault is that?”
“How was I supposed to know these conventions were scheduled one after the other?” You pout before grinding deliciously against his cock once again. He can practically feel how wet you are through his sweats and it doesn’t help that each forward motion brings your perky breasts closer to his face.
Wonwoo lets out another sigh as he wraps an arm around your waist before leaning down to latch his lips onto one of your nipples. You quickly jolt in response—not expecting him to indulge you with pleasure so quickly—but his actions spur you on. As his tongue expertly flicks across your sensitive bud, you quickly haul his aching cock out of the confines of his sweats, grinding your slit across his thick girth. 
You’re convinced that this is enough to get you off. Though you’ve memorized how the bulging veins on Wonwoo’s cock feels like inside you, having each ridge graze across your clit prickles the back of your head with newfound pleasure. A growl reverberates in his chest as you expertly slide your pussy along his dick, and you brace your hands on his broad shoulders to anchor yourself.
“Daddy,” you whine. “Can I? Please? Want it so bad.”
The words are punctuated with a pained moan when Wonwoo’s mouth trails higher before biting down on the junction between your neck and shoulders. He doesn’t miss the way your cunt momentarily pulses from his aggression, and he gladly guides your hips as you rub yourself all over his cock.
“My good little whore, always asking permission first,” he chuckles. “Go ahead. Fuck yourself on my cock.”
Wonwoo lifts you off his lap for a moment, earning himself a whine in protest, but when you realize he’s going to take off his sweats, you practically salivate once his strong thighs ease back onto your gaming chair. You don’t bother catching his gaze for an implicit confirmation. You simply sink down on his cock like you’ve been craving for days. 
A choked out moan gets caught in the back of your throat when he fills you to the brim—making your brain go blank for a moment before you remember to start doing as he asked. Wonwoo watches you through an intense, hooded gaze. The only indication that he’s even feeling remotely good is the way his fingers grip the arm rests tighter whenever your walls clench around him every now and again.
Despite the pure, unadulterated bliss that surges through you every time you’re mounted on Wonwoo’s length, it pisses you off how put-together he typically looks like when you’re on top.
You want to see him just as depraved as you are—panting and thrusting into you like he’ll die if he doesn’t fuck you deep enough. But you can never get Wonwoo to handle you the way you want to be handled when you’re riding him like this. As much as you like seeing those sharp eyes watching your every move, the only way he’ll truly fuck you like you deserve is…
Wonwoo’s brows are quick to furrow once you promptly lift yourself off his lap—length slipping out of your pussy as you make your way towards the bed. However, when you spread yourself out on the mattress face down, ass up, it definitely sparks his interest.
And like a cherry on top, you place those heart-shaped handcuffs of yours on the swell of your ass, almost like you’re inviting him to play with you.
The next thing he knows, the worn out threads of his self-control have snapped. He’s behind you not a moment later—hissing through his teeth as he throws his shirt somewhere on the floor. 
You moan when Wonwoo continues grinding his cock against your ass while he yanks both of your wrists behind you. The cold bite of the handcuffs alerts you to what you’ve allowed him to do, and when the lock clicks in place, you stifle a shuddering sigh into the sheets.
Suddenly, his breath is right next to your ear. “Where’s the key for this thing?” 
You feel Wonwoo tug against the fake metal to test for sturdiness, and you feel your chest warm at his discretion. Though he’s, by no means, soft with you, he always takes the time to check if you’re comfortable with what you’re about to do together—no matter how subtle.
“On the nightstand,” you tell him all while pushing your ass back to meet his shallow thrusts. “You can go wild with the cuffs, daddy. They’re high quality for a reason.”
A low, devilish laugh escapes him. 
“Be careful what you wish for, slut.”
He’s merciless with the way he slides his length back into your sopping hole, one hand pushing the back of your head further into the mattress as the other yanks at the chain link of the handcuffs. Each powerful stroke sends you forward on the bed, and his name tumbles in broken syllables from your mouth as he fucks the shape of his cock into you.
“That’s not what you’re supposed to call me,” he growls before snapping his hips with a particularly punishing thrust. “We’ve barely even started and I’ve already fucked you stupid? Are you so hungry for cock that you’ve already forgotten who I am?” 
“I-I’m sorry, daddy!” you whimper as he pounds into you relentlessly. “Just feels s-so fucking good. Love your cock so much!” 
“Yeah?” Wonwoo lets out a patronizing laugh before tugging on the handcuffs again—putting a delicious strain on your arms that amplifies your pleasure in some twisted way. “When you were out there dolling yourself up for conventions, did you think about my cock? Did you want me to fill you with my cum in the restroom again? You really fucking liked it when I did that to your Sage cosplay, didn’t you?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” you babble as tears start to cascade down your cheeks. “Want to get split open on your cock forever, daddy! Want your cum dripping down my thighs when there’s tons of people around—ah!” 
The sharp sound of one of Wonwoo’s palms colliding with the meat of your ass rings in your ears, and it leaves a pleasurable sting sizzling across your flesh. You can’t help the surge of pride that fills you as Wonwoo moans out loud the moment your pussy clenched around him in surprise.
“Dirty fucking cockslut,” he rasps. “You just love it when you’re being filthy for everyone to see.”
For a moment, you’re liberated from the steady burn your arms have been sustaining in such a complex position. Wonwoo surrenders his grip on the handcuffs—letting your bound wrists fall uselessly atop the small of your back. His cock doesn’t quite slip out of you, but you feel him move around from behind. You crane your neck to see what he’s up to, but when you see him angling his phone in a shot that would definitely make for good content to post later, you feel your arousal spark tenfold.
“Now be a good fucking girl for daddy, and let him show everyone how filthy you are.”
The moment the telltale sound of the record button being pressed hits your ears, Wonwoo reclaims his grip on your dainty handcuffs before resuming his ministrations. You let out a long-winded moan as you meet his powerful thrusts, hands instinctively straining against your restraints out of the need to rub your throbbing clit for faster release, but you know it’s a futile effort.
Behind you, Wonwoo is practically losing his mind over the sight of your creamy essence coating his cock with each slide of his hips. You’re extra responsive with the handcuffs as expected. You’ve always had a thing for switching things up in the bedroom, but you’re clenching around him even tighter than usual. 
He tells himself to just film a few seconds of you getting railed with your heart-shaped handcuffs adding more spice into the mix. Then he can truly have his way with you. 
When he’s satisfied, Wonwoo quickly discards his phone on your bed—eyes darting towards your nightstand before he spots what he’s looking for. Another needy whine reverberates in the air when his cock slips out of you so he can walk over to retrieve it. 
Like the good whore you are, you don’t even move an inch. You patiently wait for Wonwoo to return and fill you up again even if the fact that he’s making you wait in the first place makes you want to be a brat. But when you feel the handcuffs fall away from your wrists after he unlocks them, you whip your head around to flash him a startled look. 
Wonwoo tosses your newest toy away with little concern for their well-being before grabbing your face—crushing your lips together in an open-mouthed kiss.
“Mine,” he growls before manhandling you so that you’re laying on your back. “This slutty fucking pussy belongs to me, got that?”
You nod, moaning as he presses his tongue deep into your mouth. You would say yours in return, but you’re blindsided by the way Wonwoo throws your legs over his shoulders—plunging his fat dick back into the velvet heat of your cunt.
As he whispers the filthiest things into your ear, you figure that Wonwoo must have been just as pent up as you are. The consistency of his thrusts is starting to falter—sharp, calculated thrusts turning erratic and sloppy as his orgasm starts to catch up to him. 
With your hands free, you’re able to reach between your thighs in a feeble attempt at finding your clit. However, when Wonwoo catches wind of what you’re trying to do, he slaps your hand away—eyes boring into you with so much angry disappointment, you would’ve cried and begged for his forgiveness right then and there.
“Come on my cock or don’t come at all, whore,” he warns. “I’m already generous enough to have you writhing on my dick, and you can’t even be grateful about that?”
“I am, daddy!” You insist, tears threatening to spill again as you lace your arms around his neck. “You’re hitting me so deep. I’m g-gonna come soon, please—”
“Does my pretty cockslut want me to come inside her?” Wonwoo whispers before pressing your knees against your breasts. “Does she want me to fill her slutty pussy with my cum?”
“I want it, daddy. Want you to fill me up,” you beg as you desperately tug him down for a kiss. 
Normally, Wonwoo would’ve denied you simply because he can, and you wouldn’t be able to do a thing about it. But for some reason, he lets himself fall into you—lips latching onto yours like he’s done hundreds of times before. 
It seems like the kiss is what catalyzes your release, and Wonwoo groans into your mouth when he feels your walls clamp down on his cock—desperately milking him for his cum. He isn’t too far behind. All it takes is a few more pistons of his hips before he stills inside you. 
The sensation of being filled with his hot cum makes you pull away from his lips as another long-winded moan sings in his ears. Wonwoo’s shudders from the aftermath of his release, all while slowly fucking his emission deeper into your cunt. From the satisfied purr that escapes you, he thinks you like it just as much as he does.
Wonwoo really didn’t plan on staying over. Really, he didn’t. But the way you tug him back down on the mattress right after he’s finished cleaning you up makes him a bit too hyper-aware of his own aching muscles—both from this morning’s weight training and the several rounds he just shared with you. So he lets you snuggle closer to his clothed chest, the warmth from both of your bodies permeating into each other. He’s never felt more toasty beneath a comforter than he does now.
“This is nice,” you tell him quietly. “I wonder if people will like it if I posted videos of us just cuddling.”
Wonwoo laughs, thumbs absentmindedly caressing the red marks left by your handcuffs. “Doubt it.”
Your silly lo-fi music still plays from your computer's speakers , but neither of you could be assed to get up and turn it off. Wonwoo wouldn’t call himself a professional cuddler—you two have only cuddled a total of three times since you started fucking around, and you often complained about how stiff he always is—but from how comfortably your limbs slot into his, he supposes that he’s doing an okay job.
There’s a hint of intimacy charging the air, one that’s leagues different from the carnal lust that clouds his brain every time he fucks you. His chest twists with each passing moment, and Wonwoo makes the mistake of flickering his eyes on your half-asleep form pressed against him. 
It’s been months since you and him started fooling around, but he knows perfectly well that he isn’t the first to have seen you so vulnerable . While he usually doesn’t give a shit about that, and Wonwoo knows the topic is quite sensitive from the little tells he could pick up on for the past few months…
“Can I ask about your old dom?”
Wonwoo can practically feel you stiffen against his touch, which is one of the main reasons why he hasn’t once tried to broach the topic in the past. Even if you could be a nuisance ninety percent of the time, he isn’t a fan of making people uncomfortable on purpose. He’s about to follow his inquiry up with the reassurance that it isn’t a big deal, and you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but—
You squirm away from his embrace, and Wonwoo lets you, albeit hesitantly. His shoulders relax when he realizes you’re just repositioning yourself so that you can face him directly, chewing the inside of your cheek like you don’t have the words just yet. 
“He was…mean,” you whisper, forcing Wonwoo to wrap his arms around you once again. “Even meaner than you are. You’re at least a semi-decent person outside the domspace, but that guy? Piece of shit for real.”
Wonwoo nods. “But you don’t really care about that, do you?”
“Yeah. I can look past him being the meanest dom on the face of the earth. As long as he could satisfy me sexually, then we’re all good.”
“So…what made you part ways?”
Your gaze drifts to Wonwoo for a moment. He looks a lot different when his face isn’t bathed in the deep red of your mood lights. His hair is tousled, eyes squinting a little even if you aren’t that far away from him. And the earnest tone in his voice as he posits the question is something you could get used to hearing every now and again.
“Well, I don’t really do relationships, you know that right?” you say and Wonwoo nods. “My old dom didn’t get that though. He was really possessive of me even outside of our sessions together. It got to a point where he would get really…physical with me just to get the point across.”
Silence dips between the both of you—white noise ringing so loud in Wonwoo’s head, he can barely hear your shitty lo-fi playlist anymore. He’s always had a thing for making you cry during sex, but that’s all it is—some dacryphilia play to scratch both of your kinks. No matter how infuriating you are, he can’t imagine himself ever hurting you outside a pleasurable, sexual context.
Then he remembers the first time you invited him over to film some clips. How you stared at him as he cleaned you up like you aren’t used to the aftercare. Like you aren’t used to being treated delicately.
Is that because of your old shitty dom?
“He’s a fucking asshole,” Wonwoo grumbles before pressing your body closer to his. 
You chuckle. “He is. I’m glad I got out of that before things got even uglier.”
“How’d you even get rid of him?”
“Eh, it’s nothing a little blackmail won’t fix.”
Wonwoo’s brow arches at your response. You’re such an evil little minx, it’s actually admirable.
A little later, the conversation about your previous sexual partners fades away, and you’re back to tracing weird shapes on Wonwoo’s chest for him to guess. He spends half the time convincing you to just shut up and go to sleep, but he finds himself indulging you in your silly whims regardless. 
“Wonwoo, you’re a pretty great fuck buddy, you know that?”
He hums. “Why is that?”
“‘Cause you never go overboard with the stuff you do to me,” you say, eyes drifting away from his as you list off the reasons off your fingers. “You always let me annoy the shit out of you without getting pissed for real. You’re good at keeping secrets, too. Oh, and I never have to worry about you looking for anything more than this since you’re a pretty laid back guy. Def not the commitment type, which is exactly my type.”
Wonwoo scoffs. “If I become someone that isn’t your type, would that get you off my back?”
“I doubt that would ever happen,” you giggle.
For some reason, part of him wishes for the same thing.
But you don’t have to know about that.
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On the morning of Soonyoung’s birthday, Wonwoo wakes up irritated.
He had a dream about you—one where you stopped being fuck buddies with him because you wanted to try things out again with your old dom. Someone that Wonwoo doesn’t even know, not even by name. Yet the rage that dream-Wonwoo felt upon seeing you hand-in-hand with some faceless punk as you both left him in the dust is almost too lifelike to ignore. 
So, he does something stupid.
He pulls up his phone—ignoring every message asking if he’s going to show up for Soonyoung’s party later—and pulls up his Twitter app. He doesn’t spend much time there, even if he is co-managing your super secret porn account. In fact, he eventually muted the notifs for that too, when the appeal of having your illicit acts shared to the unknowing public finally fizzled out. 
But he doesn’t log in to check the notifications you’ve amassed, as well as the pathetic DMs asking where your location was so they could fly in to fuck you themselves. No, Wonwoo scrolls past all the content you’ve made with him to unearth things best left in the past.
Like the videos he films with his own camera, the ones you made with your old dom are more than discreet—despite the hyper-possessive tendencies you’ve mentioned. There’s absolutely nothing to be gleaned about his identity, and Wonwoo is left wondering how stupid he’s being for wanting to know who it was that made you feel good before he came into the picture.
Why does it matter anyway, right? 
Even if you did hypothetically leave him to fuck around with your old shitty dom—or anyone else for the matter—why would it matter to Wonwoo? The two of you aren’t even friends. And if you had some other person to bother, that would mean less shit for him to deal with.
But why does the thought of letting someone else have you fill him with so much vitriol that Wonwoo nearly melts his cereal bowl with his glare alone when he comes out for breakfast?
“Hyung,” Mingyu calls out from the seat adjacent to his, rightfully concerned. “You okay? I can always grab a new brand if you hate this one so much.”
The taut muscles on his face soften at the sulking tone to Mingyu’s voice. “Oh, uh. Sorry. It’s not that. I was just thinking.”
“Of your girlfriend?”
“...Of how I’m going to break your PS5 if you don’t cut it out with that girlfriend shit.”
Mingyu whines. “Wonwoo-hyung, I paid good money for that! But fine, I won’t pester you anymore if you’re so intent on keeping her a secret from the world.”
A secret… That’s right. 
What you and Wonwoo have is something that not even his best friend is completely aware of. Sure, Mingyu’s roommate-senses have been tingling for weeks, but Wonwoo knows that he will never really know the full story unless either you or Wonwoo let him in on the secret. 
Which will probably never happen if the two of you want to keep your careers, of course.
“Anyway, the rest of the guys are asking if you’re coming to Soonyoung’s party,” Mingyu says in an attempt to divert the conversation, thank god. “Everyone else has already replied except for you.”
“Who else is invited again?”
“Uh, our usual group, Koyahngi, and I dunno, a bunch of other streamers we know. I think some of Soonyoung’s high school friends are gonna show up as a surprise, though, but that’s just what Jihoon told me.”
Wonwoo considers the information at hand for a moment. 
He doesn’t mind mingling with fellow streamers and probably some of Soonyoung’s other friends, but the last time he’s seen you specifically is the day he bit the bullet and asked about your old dom. A conversation which ended on a pretty agreeable note despite the obvious unease on your face when Wonwoo opened the topic.
The fact that you haven’t texted him since is a little worrisome, too. It’s been about two weeks since that happened, and Wonwoo is beginning to wonder if he unknowingly hit a nerve and this is your way of sending him a message. 
He would’ve taken the initiative and checked up on you during your first week of radio silence, but when he catches you doing pretty fine on your latest streams and when he gets roped into some partnership talks with an entertainment agency that wants to recruit him, Wonwoo decides to put it off for later. 
Besides, the two of you are grown adults—so are the rest of your thirsty audience on Twitter. They can survive two weeks without content.
“Yeah, I’ll come,” he tells Mingyu about five minutes later when he’s already putting away the dishes. “What time are we leaving?”
“Uh, the party starts at seven. Do we go early or fashionably late?”
“Early.”
“Of course. Gotta put the senior citizen to bed early.”
“Mingyu?”
“Yeah?”
“Shut the fuck up.”
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🐈‍⬛: Are you coming to Soonyoung’s party tonight?
🐈‍: yea, i just need to sort some stuff out
🐈‍⬛: Wow
🐈‍: ?
🐈‍⬛: I just didn’t think you’d reply
🐈‍: is daddy gonna punish me for ignoring him for so long &lt;3
🐈‍⬛: I’m being serious
🐈‍: well, so am i
🐈‍: anyway, tell soonie i’ll be there soon
🐈‍: i’m just talking to someone
🐈‍⬛: Okay
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Wonwoo has been hanging out with his friends long enough to know that only a select few can really handle their liquor. It doesn’t help that today’s celebrant is the worst lightweight of them all. It’s barely thirty minutes past eight, and Soonyoung is already screaming profanities on one of the tables—using an unopened bottle of absinthe that Seungcheol gifted him with as a makeshift microphone as he belts out trashy lyrics from songs Wonwoo vaguely recognizes.
Mingyu films the entire thing on his phone, stifling his laughter while sipping on his own drink. Wonwoo can only roll his eyes at his best friend’s tolerant behavior.
At around nine, Jeonghan and Joshua arrive at the scene with a tiger-themed cake in tow, and half the friend group has to physically restrain Soonyoung just so the birthday boy could blow out his fucking candles properly. After criticizing the baker’s work (“The eyes are uneven! Tiger eyes are perfectly symmetrical!), Jeonghan rounds up the other guests to sing a loud Happy Birthday just to get Soonyoung to finally shut up. When the song comes to a close, though, Seokmin giggles a little too conspiratorially before dunking Soonyoung’s face into the cake.
It’s gatherings like this—no matter how rowdy and unacceptably loud—that make Wonwoo stick around. He might not look the part, but he loves it when he sees his friends be themselves outside of their streamer personas. It’s like high school and college all over again. 
But when the clock on his phone reads ten-thirty, and he realizes you’re still not at the venue, Wonwoo considers shooting you another text asking where you were. It’s an idea he quickly shoots down the next second because first of all, you’re not even friends. It’d be weird if he just asked out of nowhere. 
He supposes he could use wanting a quick fuck as an excuse to get some intel on your whereabouts. But the thought of lying to you doesn’t sit right with Wonwoo for some goddamn reason. 
When Mingyu offers him a drink, he half-considers taking it just to get his mind off you. He’s pretty sure his roommate has picked up on his distracted behavior, and is only attempting to soothe him somewhat with some beer. But Wonwoo reminds him that he’s one of tonight’s designated drivers and decides to pass.
Everyone in attendance is in the middle of a game of truth or dare when Wonwoo’s phone buzzes in his jacket pocket. He’s quick to excuse himself when he sees who it’s from and what message was left for him to read.
🐈‍: help me. please.
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Thankfully, you had the foresight to send him your location after shooting him that cryptic text, and Wonwoo is glad to find that you’re just a few blocks away. Still, he decides to take his car since the weather decided to be a bitch, sending in an unexpected downpour in the middle of summer.
He pulls over in front of a closed bookshop once he’s sure you’re in the area—looking around for any signs of you. The streets are deserted, and Wonwoo is trying to figure out what could have possibly brought you to this place at this hour. Why didn’t you just head straight to Soonyoung’s party? 
And why did you call him for help?
Through the rain and the poor lighting, he finally spots you—standing underneath the canopy of a waiting shed next to a man whose back is turned to Wonwoo.
He doesn’t think twice. He just gets out of his car and runs in the rain—chest warming at the sight of your downcast face perking up at the sight of him. Wonwoo would’ve let himself be glad that you're safe and sound, if only your current company didn’t turn around and reveal his identity.
From the looks of it, you seemed to be having a pretty heated conversation before his arrival. Johnny was obviously annoyed when he turned to look at him, but the expression fell away when he realized the newcomer was Wonwoo. 
However, a sinister smile takes its place not a few seconds later.
“Huh, no wonder you were so quick to replace me, doll,” Johnny laughs insincerely, sharp eyes trained on Wonwoo as he stares the younger streamer up and down. “It’s him, huh?”
“This has nothing to fucking do with you, Johnny,” you grit out, but Wonwoo doesn’t miss the way your voice nearly cracks. “Can you just leave me alone? You don’t need me when you’ve got a bunch of other girls who want to suck your dick, right?”
Wonwoo observes the exchange with a stoic face that doesn’t betray his surprise. It doesn’t take a lot to realize at that moment that Johnny is most definitely the asshole dom whose face he wanted to pummel into the ground when he found out what he did to you. But the things he does know about Johnny and the things he’s just now finding out makes a storm brew inside of his head—unable to separate what’s fact from fiction.
Johnny’s a nice guy. Wonwoo knows this very well. But then again, he’s also the same person who blatantly likes Twitter porn on his official account, so where does that leave him?
“I guess you’re right, but your pussy’s a perfect fit,” Johnny chuckles. “Can’t help but want to hit that again and again, right Wonwoo?”
He stares down at him hard. “Don’t talk about her like she’s just some thing you can play with.”
“Oh? No wonder those new vids of yours have been extra livelier. Your new boytoy is a big old softie, huh?” Another mirthless laugh echoes in the empty streets, and Wonwoo feels his own body heat up with rage amidst the cold rain. “I never would’ve imagined it was Wonwoo, of all people, though. That really is a magic pussy you’ve got there, doll. I wouldn’t be surprised if I found out you’re fucking his twelve other friends, too. Fucking whore—”
Before Johnny could get another word out, Wonwoo’s fist had already collided with the side of his face—knocking the older man to the ground with a disgruntled sound. He can vaguely hear you calling his name in shock, pulling him back with your little hands as Wonwoo stares down at a person he used to look up to.
“Call her that one more fucking time,” he rasps—eyes alight with anger, “and I’ll make sure it’s not just a busted eye you’re leaving with tonight.”
“Wonwoo,” you plead, tugging on his arm. “Please. He’s not worth it. Let’s just go.” 
Johnny still has it in him to bark out another laugh, spitting out some blood from his mouth and onto the pavement. “Running away again, princess? That’s what you’ve always been good at anyway.”
When Wonwoo moves to lunge at him again, you lace your fingers with his. For some reason, it makes him falter. Wonwoo stares at where your hands are adjoined, then looks into your eyes—glistening with tears as you beg him to stop.
Sending Johnny one last threatening glare, Wonwoo tightens his grip on your delicate fingers before leading you back to his car.
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Wonwoo doesn’t return to the party.
Instead, he shoots Mingyu a quick ‘something came up’ text, and that he won’t be able to play designated driver for the night. His best friend responds in kind, saying he should have fun with his girlfriend and just take a cab home. On normal days, he would’ve given Mingyu another unsolicited threat, but tonight, he’s focused on something else.
You’ve been quiet the entire time Wonwoo has been driving, hands placed on top of your lap as you gazed at the lights flashing by in a blur of colors and raindrops pouring down the window. He doesn’t have a particular destination in mind, but he figures that it’ll do you some good to have some time to mull over everything that happened. 
But when the silence gets too overbearing even for him, Wonwoo asks:
“What do you usually do when you’re upset?”
You turn your head slowly, red eyes shining even in the dark. Wiping the tears away, you say, “Buy a tub of ice cream and stargaze at the rooftop of my apartment building. That’s kinda impossible right now, though, since…”
Yeah. It was still raining. Fuck.
“Well,” Wonwoo starts, “we can still get some ice cream if you’re up for it. I know a supermarket that’s open twenty four-seven.” 
You don’t reply, simply letting your gaze drift back to the window, and Wonwoo takes that as an affirmative. 
The two of you sit in the silence so deafening, it unsettles even Wonwoo the silence connoisseur himself. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do in this kind of situation. Should he offer you some verbal comfort? Should he promise to deal with Johnny if he comes after you again?
In the end, Wonwoo chooses to preserve the quiet—thinking it’s what you need most right now.
He pulls into the supermarket’s parking lot in ten minutes. He’s about to tell you that he won’t take long—glancing around at the backseat to check if Mingyu left his umbrella there. But before he can even get a word out, you’ve already leaned across the center console, grabbing Wonwoo’s face with both hands before smashing your lips together. 
Wonwoo grunts, grabbing your shoulders as he gently pries you off him. “Hey—”
You don’t listen. Instead, you climb on top of his lap despite the limited space. He knows that the steering wheel digging into your back can’t be comfortable at all, so despite himself, Wonwoo pushes the driver’s seat all the way back. But then you choose to do something he doesn’t expect at all.
With the newfound legroom, you sink to the floor—puffy eyes looking up at him as you work on the buckle of his belt. Wonwoo gives you a stare that’s two parts disapproving and one part curious. In the end, he does nothing about it when you undo his jeans and take his cock in the warmth of your hand.
When it comes to you, it doesn’t take a lot to get him hard. The need to please shines in your eyes as you give him possibly one of the best handjobs in his life. You’re not even uttering a single sound, but your titillating gaze sends all the blood in his system straight to his dick.
Your mouth is on him the next thing he knows—giving his fat head some experimental kitten licks that make him want to shove your head down to the base of his cock. But he won’t. Wonwoo isn’t Johnny. He wouldn’t dare to be rough with you after what just happened, despite your apparent eagerness to give him head right here, of all places. 
The mere reminder of that asshole has him buzzing with rage again, but whatever frustration is left over gets quickly replaced with toe-curling pleasure when you take his heavy length in the heat of your mouth. Your tongue lathers the underside of his shaft as every inch bypasses your plump lips. What your mouth can’t reach, you compensate with your fingers—fondling both his balls and the base of his cock with tender yet salacious touches.
He has to tell you to knock it off. This probably isn’t how you’re supposed to deal with…whatever shit you have going on with Johnny. But your mouth feels like fucking heaven, and Wonwoo isn’t a good enough person to deny himself the pleasure.
The rain continues to pour outside, but the sound of it is eclipsed by the wet noise of you bobbing up and down his engorged cock. As Wonwoo’s orgasm slowly builds itself from the ground up, his large hand gathers your hair in a single clump—tugging hard enough to have you moaning around his length.
“Good, good girl,” he rasps before thrusting his hips into your mouth. 
 When he finally comes, you swallow every drop he pours down your throat. Even when your eyes start to sting with tears, you take it all while Wonwoo holds your head in place. 
As his high starts to ebb away, Wonwoo realizes this is probably the most breathless he’s been rendered since he started fucking around with you. He could probably blame that on the shitty car ventilation, but there’s just something so fucking enticing about seeing you wedged beneath him on the floor—face streaked with tears with remnants of his release still sticking on your lips.
Wordlessly, you peel yourself away as you scramble back to the passenger seat, making a nonchalant comment about how much you’ve imagined sucking him off in his car, but Wonwoo doesn’t quite process it all.
When he notices that the glass of his car windows have all but fogged up, he leans forward—one hand raised as he starts drawing shapes into the moisture. You stare at him with a bewildered look, wondering what on earth he was up to. But the moment you realize what he’s drawing, your expression twists from confusion to disbelief.
Stars. Wonwoo was drawing stars on his fucking windshield with his entire dick still out and everything. He doesn’t even look fazed while he’s doing it.
“You can’t be serious,” you say.
He shrugs and grabs some tissues from the glove compartment to clean up before putting himself away—handing it to you right after. 
He’s so fucking thoughtful; it still gives you whiplash.
“You said you wanted to see the stars, right?” Wonwoo shrugs. “This is the best I can give you right now, so.”
You stare at him for a couple of seconds longer—like you can’t believe a man like Jeon Wonwoo really exists on this earth. Then, you laugh. It’s one of those obnoxious ones that typically have Wonwoo rolling his eyes at you, but it sounds like music to his ears after seeing you cry your eyes out .
Wonwoo does manage to get enough ice cream for the two of you to feast on back in your apartment as you both watch this food show that Mingyu keeps recommending to him. The tricky part is trying to get your hands off him the entire time. 
For someone who went through something pretty traumatic earlier in the evening, you’re fucking insatiable. But Wonwoo’s resolve can no longer be shaken, and the dirtiest thing that you end up doing in your bedroom is giving him a kiss on the cheek before bidding him good night.
It’s only when you’re dozing softly against his chest—having trusted him enough to fall asleep in his company—that Wonwoo realizes something that might change the trajectory of your set-up for good.
He’s in love. 
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The next morning, Mingyu greets Wonwoo at the apartment like a mother would her troublemaking son who got caught sneaking home in the middle of the night.
“It’s Koyahngi, isn’t it?” he says point-blank. 
Wonwoo doesn’t exactly have the energy to play some mental gymnastics with Mingyu right now. The moment it dawned on him how he actually felt about you, he couldn’t get a wink of sleep. Thoughts about what he should do have kept him up all night. Should he come clean about it? Should he just leave it be?
But when he remembers what you said about him during that one visit of his…
I never have to worry about you looking for anything more than this since you’re a pretty laid back guy. Def not the commitment type.
That pretty much leaves him with one option, which is the one he’s been meaning to take all along. The idea of having to confess his love for you like some sort of prepubescent high schooler honestly makes him want to vomit. But at the same time, resorting to…concealing his feelings from plain sight doesn’t sit well with him either.
But no matter what he feels about either option, Wonwoo knows that keeping his mouth shut about it is the best option. Especially when you’re still emotionally high-strung from that encounter with Johnny. 
“So what if it is?” Wonwoo grumbles, plopping himself onto the couch right next to Mingyu.
“For what it’s worth, I’ve always thought the two of you were a good match,” his roommate offers, and Wonwoo appreciates his pep-talk. Really, he does. But he’s pep-talking him for the wrong fucking outcome. “You should totally go for it if you haven’t already.”
You don’t do relationships, and neither does Wonwoo. He knows if he uses this line of reasoning as a rebuttal to Mingyu’s words, his best friend will stubbornly insist that he get the girl anyways. He’s always been the one-track-mind type that gives it his all once he’s finally set on something. 
But Wonwoo is nothing like his enthusiastic roommate. He’s cold, and sharp-tongued, and everything you probably wouldn’t want in a boyfriend. All he’s good for is a quick fuck every now and again, and he’s not about to start deluding himself that he can be anything more to you.
(Yet part of him still hopes anyway.) 
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🐈‍: are u free today
🐈‍⬛: Be there in thirty
🐈‍: whoa i haven’t even told you what i had planned
🐈‍: what if i actually wanted to take you on a date to the park huh
🐈‍⬛: Did you?
🐈‍: no, my new raiden shogun cosplay set just arrived
🐈‍: and we kinda have this unspoken tradition 
🐈‍: if you know what i mean
🐈‍⬛: You want me to fuck you in it?
🐈‍: always <3
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There’s something off when Wonwoo shows up at your doorstep.
He knows you easily pick up on it from the way your eyes narrow slightly when you scrutinize him. From what he can tell, he’s acting as aloof as he always does, yet you still ask him, “You okay?” as if he’s doing something different.
“Yeah,” he mumbles before quietly closing the door behind him.
As you lead him to your room, you tell him that you haven’t put on your cosplay yet because the stockings that came with your order were itchy as fuck, and how you’re thinking of having them replaced one of these days. Wonwoo hums in reply, eyes trained on the takeout packaging that litters your kitchen counter. He has half the mind to tell you to start eating healthily, but reminds himself that’s the sort of thing boyfriends do—not fuck buddies.
Your dainty lo-fi playlist is streaming in your room like always, and when you see the assorted fabrics of your cosplay crumpled on your desk, you heave a tired sigh.
“I’m too lazy to put it on now,” you whine. “Can you just fuck me normally?”
He doesn’t give you a verbal response. Instead, Wonwoo pulls you by the hip, pressing you impossibly close to him as he rests his forehead on top of yours. You startle a little at his abruptness, but your body language betrays no sign of resistance. If anything, you lean more into his touch as the seconds tick past.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” you whisper like you’re afraid of shattering something delicate. “You seem out of it.”
“I’m fine,” he insists, and before you can say anything else in response, he slots your mouths together in a slow, sensual kiss. 
Wonwoo likes to get things done hard and fast. He’s a man who sticks to his schedules for the day if he can help it, so he typically treats these sessions with you as timed encounters. More often than not, he’ll be out of your door in two hours or less so he can dedicate his time to working out or planning for new content.
Now, it’s a little different. He takes his sweet time with you—mouths moving in voluptuous unison as if he’s finally dedicating each second to truly memorize the curve of your lips against his. You moan into the kiss, fingers threading through his dark hair before he pulls away from you with a breathless sigh. 
Wonwoo stares at you like you’re the center of the universe. He can only hope you see the same thing when you stare back.
You know when Wonwoo takes his glasses off, he means business. One moment he’s placing them on top of your nightstand, and the next, you’re suddenly pinned beneath him on your bed—getting your lips devoured by the insatiable man on top of you. 
There’s something so innately alluring to his kisses that you haven’t felt during the last time you fucked Wonwoo in this same room. Those were less kisses and more of a clash of teeth and tongue. Now, he stokes a kind of desire that almost scares you to have. You’re afraid if you indulge yourself too much in this version of him, you’ll get addicted. 
The two of you are supposed to be filming today. Yet you seem to have forgotten all about your plans as you lose yourselves in the heat of each other’s bodies. But despite the mellow pace that Wonwoo has established, the desperation still lingers in his touch. 
He flips the both of you over so that you’re sitting right on top of him, gasping out loud as you steady yourself across his hips. Wonwoo smiles lazily, drawing circles along the curve of your thigh before teasing the waistband of your shorts with a single finger. You whimper as you grind down against his hardening length, still confused about how soft he’s being with you today, but no complaints are going to be filed.
“You want my cock that badly?” he asks, and you nod a bit too enthusiastically. “Then work for it.”
You bite your lip, not bothering to remove either of your clothes when you haul out Wonwoo’s length from the fabric of his sweats. Just a few pumps from your small fingers has him hot and heavy in your hand—making your mouth water with anticipation. You don’t think you’ll ever get tired of taking him inside your tight little pussy.
Nudging the hem of both your shorts and panties to the side, you quietly sink down on his engorged cock with a strained whimper. The lack of prep definitely isn’t doing you any favors, but the raw stretch of him so deep inside your walls sends a rush of pleasure straight to your skull. In no time, you’re bouncing on top of his lap like a bitch in heat—mind hazy with the feeling of Wonwoo hitting you even deeper than usual. 
You sort of expected him to amp up the dirty talk. You don’t always get to ride him like this, yet Wonwoo stays perfectly quiet as he watches you thrash and moan above him. His hands rest comfortably at the curve of your waist, guiding your movements, all while offering up a few thrusts of his own.
It feels so fucking good whenever he hits that perfect spot inside you, but the pleasure pulls the wool over your eyes because you’re completely oblivious to the way Wonwoo is looking at you right now.
He was a fool to think that if he just had his way with you like he usually does, those delusions of his would go away naturally. That it would serve as an anchor to the reality of your relationship with him. But when Wonwoo has you chasing your high right before him—so devastatingly beautiful in the lowlights of your bedroom—he realizes he’s fucked.
All this does is make him fall even deeper in love with you. 
“S-So close,” you whimper, grinding down on his cock with each downward thrust. “Wonwoo, please, please. Fuck—!” 
He quickly shoots up from his initial position, lying down, fingers tangled in your hair as he forces your head close to meld your lips together once again. Wonwoo fucks up into you relentlessly, his breathing erratic against your mouth, all while he tries his best to keep all of his secrets from coming out of his own lips. 
You’re the most infuriating person he knows, but he can’t help but look after you anyways. He claims to hate you, but the way he’s rolling his hips into yours would tell a different story. You drive him insane each waking day, yet you have no clue of the extent of it.
He would never admit it—not in a million, billion years—but you’re Wonwoo’s favorite poison, and he’d rather watch himself burn from the inside out than find an antidote. 
He hates having to hide you away from the world like this. Hates treating you like some sort of dirty little secret. He’s allowed to share you with the world through anonymous pornography, but not as a bonafide lover, and it drives him up a fucking wall every time he thinks about it. 
But the thing about Wonwoo and sex is that once he finally gets to fuck the frustration out of his system, his clarity of mind is a bit too quick to settle. As he helps clean you up in the bathroom, he tells himself that it’s simply impossible for someone like you to want anything more with someone like him. After all, you said it yourself.
You don’t do relationships. 
Who the hell is Wonwoo to change your mind about that anyway?
“Wonwoo?”
He looks up at you just when he just finished wiping a cool, wet towel across your leg. “What?”
Your eyes shy away from his. “Um, you might call me a sap or something, but I…kinda liked it.”
“Liked what?”
“That,” you say while making some vague hand gestures at him. “When you were all gentle with me and stuff. I wouldn’t mind having soft Wonwoo again next time.”
Next time.
The words echo in Wonwoo’s mind far more than what he expected, and he finds himself frowning at the notion. Can he still keep up this charade, now that he’s aware of his feelings for you? How long can he continue the act until he inevitably slips up, and you find out?
How long does he have left before you drop him because he’s starting to want more from you?
“Wonwoo, where are you…?”
He doesn’t hear the rest of what you have to say because he’s already padding out of the bathroom—heart beating a little too loudly in his chest. Wonwoo fishes his glasses from the nightstand and the keys to his car. He’s more than intent on getting out of here as soon as possible, but it seems you have other plans.
“Hey,” you call out before tugging at his arm. Wonwoo forces himself not to meet your eyes, but he feels the intensity of your stare regardless. “You’re acting really fucking weird today. Is there something wrong? Did I do something you didn’t like?”
“No,” he mumbles, wanting to add, I’m the one who’s done something you won’t like, but opting to keep his silence instead. 
“Then…why are you acting like this?” 
The pleading look in your eyes almost makes him cave in and pour out everything that’s been flooding his heart for the past few days. It’s so easy to just rip the band-aid off and be honest. To risk everything for the abysmal chance of you reciprocating his feelings.
But Wonwoo knows that life isn’t a fucking gacha game, and he’s not about to throw away what he has with you now, especially when he knows what he wants doesn’t coincide with what you want. 
“Just having a shitty day,” he reasons, and the lie tastes like acid on his tongue. “I’ll text you later. Bye.”
Before Wonwoo steps out of your door, he makes another mistake of looking back. Now, he isn’t sure if he’ll ever get the image of you on the verge of tears as you stood all alone in your bedroom for reasons he’ll never know
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Wonwoo runs into Saerom in the supermarket one fateful afternoon.
Mingyu is usually the one who does the grocery runs for both of them—being the person who knows which brands are best for both food and apartment maintenance and all. But his best friend happened to land himself a modeling gig recently, and they rescheduled the shoot today on short notice. Wonwoo insisted that they could live another day without eating rice, but Mingyu was having none of it, and gave his roommate a full list of groceries he expects him to buy no later than today.
So here he is in the canned goods aisle, expression mirroring Saerom’s when she recognizes him as well. It’s not often that Wonwoo bumps into a familiar face in this part of town, so he’s rightfully surprised.
When she asks him if he’s free to have lunch with her at a nearby bistro, he sees no reason to decline. Saerom has always been his good friend, and it’s only natural for him to want to catch up. That, and he’s curious about what she’s doing here in the first place.
“I just moved into the neighborhood actually,” she explains once the waiter is done taking their orders. “Anyway, how are you? I haven’t spoken to you since that time I hijacked your stream.”
Wonwoo clearly remembers the day she asked him to look out for you all those months ago. Saerom is quite literally an angel, extending her concern even to the people who probably don’t need nor deserve it. He gulps down his water thickly, wondering if he should tell her the truth. 
But with how his brain seems to be all over the place these days, he ends up coming clean about it anyway.
When the food arrives, Wonwoo tells Saerom about the truth behind the porn videos implicating you in the past—how you’re actually the one being filmed in all of them. He also tells her about how Wonwoo takes part in the creation process of said videos (deciding to leave Johnny out of the story because that’s going to be another can of worms to deal with). Then, he ends the tall tale with the begrudging fact that he may or may not have caught feelings for someone he isn’t supposed to.
Saerom listens intently to each word—chewing on her salad with a contemplative look. She never betrays any sort of expression that would suggest her true opinions on the matter, which makes Wonwoo all too thankful that she’s the one he entrusted this with.
“I see,” she sighs once she’s finished the rest of her food. “I knew something was a bit off about her situation, but I’m glad that she’s safe, at least. Although about that budding romance of yours… Don’t you think it’ll be easier if you just discussed it with her directly? An outsider like me can only offer you so much advice, Wonwoo.”
He sighs, stabbing his food with his fork. “I know, but…what if she doesn’t want anything to do with me when she finds out how I really feel?”
Saerom lets out a wistful sigh—staring directly at Wonwoo like she intends for him to remember her next words for a long time.
“Then that’s your sign to find someone else who can accept the love you’re more than willing to give. If she turns you down, that’s more of her loss than yours, you know.”
Wonwoo wants to tell her she’s giving him too much credit. It almost sounds like Saerom is insisting that he’d actually make a good boyfriend. He half-wonders if he should ask her if she accidentally mistook him for Mingyu, but then Saerom’s phone rings in the middle of their conversation. 
It’s a short call, and Wonwoo doesn’t bother listening in to give her some privacy. When it ends, though, she bows her head in apology, letting him know that her boyfriend’s waiting for her at the parking lot.
“It’s nice meeting you again, Wonwoo.” She smiles before pulling him into a hug. “I hope your girl problems are already sorted out the next time I see you.”
Wonwoo lets out an uneasy laugh as he returns her embrace. 
He really hopes so, too. 
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One month.
It takes Wonwoo one entire month to reach out again, right after he left you without a word in your apartment last time. Part of him feels like he should be guilty for ghosting you so suddenly like that, but he swears he didn’t ghost you. 
He’s just…giving both of you some time and space away from each other. God knows his judgment gets clouded whenever he’s near you. 
Still, he doesn’t really expect you to forgive him for it right away. Much like Mingyu, you’re the sulky type. But while he usually deals with Mingyu’s sulking by leaving him alone for a few hours, that solution is counterproductive when it comes to you because…he’s already left you alone for a month. Wonwoo has a feeling that if he prolongs it any further, you might not talk to him ever again.
You were already wrapping up this evening’s stream when he left his own apartment, and he figures you’re getting ready for bed when he gets to yours.
His knuckles rap against the door once, twice, and he waits. 
Not that Wonwoo is counting, but it takes you five minutes to answer the door—already in your comfortable pajamas and your kitten skincare headband resting on top of your head. It seems that you weren’t expecting any late-night visitors when your eyes nearly bug out at the sight of him. 
“Won—” You shake your head as if you can’t even bear to say his name. “What are you doing here?”
He hesitates.
Wonwoo doesn’t have an answer for you. He gave you space for one month, and he still doesn’t know what to say when he finally deigned to show you his face. 
Your posture is rightfully apprehensive. Wonwoo can almost imagine how you’ve branded him as a raging ghoster in your head for the past few weeks. For a moment, he fears that you’ll throw him out of your apartment before he can even set foot in it, but you simply wait for him to respond—affording him some patience he definitely doesn’t deserve.
“I…” Wonwoo starts but his voice falters, forcing him to clear his throat awkwardly. “You’re getting better at using Chamber.”
You scowl at him, and if Mingyu was here, Wonwoo thinks he would’ve face-palmed because of how pathetic he’s being right now. 
Seriously? Bringing up the latest Valorant agent she’s playing when you’re supposed to say you’re in love with her? Wonwoo can practically hear his roommate in his head, along with an added, You’re so fucking mid, hyung. 
“Okay,” you say, still visibly wary of his presence. “Anything else? I’d rather get everything out of the way so you can continue ghosting me in peace.” 
Fuck. He knew it.
“I’m—” 
Sorry. I didn’t mean it. I was too scared of how I felt about you to deal with it like a normal person.
“—starting to think that you’re fine without me after all.”
At this point, Mingyu would’ve pummeled him to the ground.
Jeon Wonwoo, you have the emotional intelligence of a rock, imagination-Mingyu points out, and he couldn’t agree more.
“Well, thanks for pointing out the obvious. I am fine without you, asshole,” you bite back snarkily, making the motions to shut the door in his face, but Wonwoo wedges his foot in between. 
“Wait—fuck. I’m sorry,” he insists, swallowing thickly. “Can I come in? Please?”
The desperation in his tone makes you arch an eyebrow. Wonwoo never says please. It’s almost always the other way around, whether in a sexual context or not. So even if you know you should just leave him there like how he left you a month ago, you breathe out a sigh in defeat before opening the door wider for him.
“Fine.”
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You’ve never sat at your dining table with Wonwoo. You never had to. Whenever he comes over, it’s either to have sex or let you teach him about a game he can’t be assed to play on his own. He doesn’t stay long enough to warrant asking him if he wants some takeout or leftovers from the fridge, so seeing him nursing a glass of water across from you still feels surreal. 
“So are you going to explain why you suddenly just ditched me, or are we going to stew in the silence all night?” you ask. 
Wonwoo’s gaze flickers over to you irritably, and you hate to admit that the sight of that expression makes a pang of…something ripple in your chest. It’s been so long since you’ve seen him, much less spoken to him, so even if you should be fucking mad, you can’t help but miss him. 
God fucking damn it.
He doesn’t answer right away. Like he’s carefully choosing which words he’ll allow you to hear and which would be better off unsaid. But if there’s something you’ve come to know about Wonwoo after all these months, it’s that he doesn’t have good intuition when it comes to other people’s emotions. 
Even if it seems like he’s being particularly careful about his words, that doesn’t guarantee that what’s going to come out of his mouth won’t be stupid.  
“I just had to clear my head for a while,” he says, providing no context whatsoever, and that makes you frown even more. 
“Clear your head?” you echo as you cross your legs. “From what?”
Wonwoo’s usually aloof look shifts for a moment. An unreadable expression flits across his face, but it’s gone before you can even make sense of it.
“It’s nothing you should worry about.”
“Nothing I should… Wonwoo, you were already acting strange the last time you were here. Then you went ahead and ignored me for an entire month!” You slam your hands on the table, the Wonwoo’s glass rattling in the process.
“How am I not supposed to worry when all this time, you made me think I was the reason you suddenly just flaked on me like that?”
He narrows his eyes at you, as if he doesn’t quite get why you’re pissed. “Why does it even matter? I’m just your fuck buddy, right? Why should you care if I just come and go whenever I feel like it?”
The apathetic tone that accompanies his words lances straight through your chest. Were you an idiot for believing that the look he wore earlier in front of your apartment was genuine? That he was actually apologetic for leaving you alone with your thoughts as you wondered what you could’ve possibly done to drive him away without a word?
Your fists shake from where you’re pressing them into the polished wood of your dining table. Wonwoo’s indifferent stare doesn’t let up, and as the white noise rings in your ears, it makes you wonder…
“Why’d I have to fall in love with someone like you?”
The words come out so softly, so quietly that you doubt Wonwoo would’ve heard you. But as your vision gets blurry with tears, you don’t see how  surprise begins to eclipse his aloofness.
Wonwoo felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach when his ears caught what you just said. He couldn’t have heard wrong. It was too quiet in your apartment to mistake what you said for anything else.
You’re…in love with him?
“You know what?” You breathe in deeply, eyes darting up to the ceiling as you wipe off the evidence of your vulnerability. “Just…leave, Wonwoo. I can’t talk to you right now. Please.”
“Say it again.”
When your gaze drifts back to him, it’s accompanied with an expression twisted into disbelief.
“What?”
Before you can even think about what he could even mean by that, Wonwoo gets up from his seat, striding over to your side of the table. You flash him another apprehensive stare, but all of a sudden, he cups your face in both of his hands—delicately, like he’s afraid of breaking something precious.
“Tell me you’re in love with me.”
You immediately bristle at his request. “Are you fucking insane? I know you’re a sadist but—”
Wonwoo presses forward without warning—capturing your lips in an unsolicited kiss that catches you off guard but angers you at the same time. No matter how badly you missed having him pressed up against you in more ways than one, you’re not going to let him trample on your feelings again. 
“I hate you,” you rasp, salty tears breaking their tension across your lashes as they slide down your cheeks in glistening streaks. “I fucking hate you, Jeon Wonwoo.”
Your words carry little weight to them, and Wonwoo is completely aware of this. Almost like he’s trying to placate you, he wipes your tears away with the pads of his thumbs—that hard-eyed gaze weathering into something softer, more sincere with each passing second. 
You abhor how handsome he looks like this.
“Is that your way of telling someone you love them?” he chuckles breathlessly, lips rising to the crown of your head as he presses a soft kiss on top. “If that’s the case, then…”
“I fucking hate you, too.”
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Wonwoo isn’t sure how long the two of you have been going at it, but by your fourth orgasm, your newfound lover is yet to be sated.
“Again,” he growls, tugging your limp body closer to his. “Say it again.”
One of the things Wonwoo particularly likes about exploring all sorts of sexual escapades with you is that you teach him things about himself that he never even knew about. 
First was that stupid daddy kink, and now…
“I love you,” you whimper, mindlessly grinding against his still hard cock despite being worn and spent. “I love you, Wonwoo.”
Despite the fact that your honesty drives him to near-insanity, Wonwoo can’t help the relieved sigh that fills his veins every time you utter the words. At first, you stubbornly kept up the act of hating him as he railed you into the mattress, but with every mind-numbing orgasm, your hate slowly bled into love, and Wonwoo finds it fucking cathartic. 
You beat him to what he came over to tell you himself. It was a little embarrassing on his part, he has to admit, but there’s some sort of relief that comes with knowing the same person he’s been vying for also feels the same way.
He’ll tell you the words properly someday.
Maybe not today or tomorrow, but Wonwoo promises that he’ll let you hear how much he adores you soon enough.
For now, he’ll give you one last release.
He’s certain that he can still go one more round, but he can’t really say the same for you. If Wonwoo makes you cream on his cock one more time, he’s afraid you’ll actually pass out from exhaustion. 
So instead, he lays you down on your plush pillows—crawling lower down your body until he finds himself between your legs. He chuckles when you crane your neck weakly to see what he’s trying to do, but Wonwoo is already hooking your thighs over his shoulders before you can say a word.
Your body twitches from oversensitivity as his tongue laves at your ruined cunt—not caring that his own spend has mixed with yours from where the creamy liquid seeps from your hole. Wonwoo groans into your cunt when your thighs squeeze around his head as if meaning to suffocate him with your pussy.
Honestly? If that’s the way he’s gonna go, he’ll accept it with open arms.
“Daddy,” you mewl, fingers tangling in his tousled hair. “I c-can’t anymore…”
Wonwoo suckles at your clit in response, earning himself a high-pitched whine as you roll your hips into his face. For someone who claims she can’t come anymore, you’re awfully eager for him to pinpoint your orgasm again.
“You can, baby,” he insists, peppering your inner thighs with kisses. “You can ‘cause you’re my good girl, aren’t you?” 
He feels your inner muscles clenching at his words, and Wonwoo makes a mental note to praise you more often. You might just like that more than his run-of-the-mill dirty talk after all.
“‘m your good girl,” you babble. “Always daddy’s good girl.”
Fuck. You’re going to be the death of him.
When you’ve recovered from the crest of your final orgasm, Wonwoo carries you to the bathroom and carries you into a bath he’d drawn himself. You complain about how he didn’t set the temperature in the tub right, and Wonwoo promises to do better next time. 
As the two of you soak in the semi-warm water, Wonwoo rests his head against the tiled wall—the fatigue starting to seep into his bones. He doesn’t let himself complain, though, because if he’s feeling spent, he can only imagine how sore you must be feeling. He wonders if he should order some food for the both of you or just let you sleep right away.
“Wonwoo?”
He raises an eyebrow at your meek voice calling out to him. “Yeah?”
You shift a little on his lap, turning around as droopy eyes bore into his. Wonwoo is about to call you out for being weird, but the words evaporate on his tongue when you lean forward to peck his lips. 
“Can I borrow your phone?”
He tilts his head to the side, wondering why you’re asking for his phone. You couldn’t possibly be asking him to film some content here in the tub…right?
Wonwoo watches in complete silence as you open his Twitter app—further feeding into his curiosity. But he doesn’t comment on whatever it is you’re about to do, patiently watching as you maneuver around the accounts logged onto his phone. 
However, when you pull up on the Settings tab of that porn account the two of you have been running for months, scrolling all the way down—
“What are you doing?” he asks as your finger hovers over the ‘Deactivate account’ button.
You glance at him, confused. “I’m getting rid of this account. What else does it look like?”
“Why?”
“What do you mean why? I can’t share my sex tapes with the rest of the world now that I have a boyfriend.”
The bathroom falls silent for about three heartbeats before Wonwoo wraps his arms around you in a tight embrace. You yelp in surprise, struggling against his iron-tight grip in a way that has water splashing all around you. Wonwoo couldn’t care less, though.
“I love you,” he murmurs into the naked skin of your shoulder. 
You don’t respond for a while, like you’re surprised by his easy admission. But the tension in Wonwoo’s spine unravels when you rest your head across his shoulder, chuckling as you caress his face tenderly.
“Don’t you dare think I’ll let you off the hook though,” you chide. “You’ve got several months of dates to make up for. Just because you took the express lane into being my boyfriend, doesn’t mean you get to skip out on the effort that normally comes with it.”
Wonwoo shakes his head, turning your face so his eyes can meet yours. 
He can’t believe he was stupid enough to run away from his own feelings for an entire month. If only he’d been more honest with both you and himself the last time he was here, he could’ve spent all the weeks after with you cradled in his embrace.
But then again, it’s the choices you both made so far that led you to where you are now.
And for now, he’s perfectly content with that.
“Challenge accepted.”
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part one - part two - part three - part four
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q: is there going to be a third part? a: yes! however, part 3 is literally just in its early stages of creation. i don't even have a serious doc for it, just a few vague plot bunnies gathering dust in my head SJDFHDFG BUT since i'm feeling generous, attached below is a little sneak peek of what you can expect!
This is, by far, the worst day of Mingyu’s life. Okay, maybe he’s exaggerating, but he likes to think that he’s a man of routine. If he doesn’t get to do his morning rituals right before his streams, it feels like the world has been tilted a few degrees off its proper axis. And that’s exactly what’s happening now, when Mingyu realizes that his favorite Twitter porn account is nowhere to be found.  How the hell is he supposed to get his daily dose of relief now?
aaaaaand that's all i have for now! thank you so much for waiting patiently for this installment! it took me an entire month since i posted the teaser, but here it is hehe :3c i hope you all liked it! do stay tuned for that third part, whenever the hell i can get around to writing it T T
this is part of the game over series!
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pandorafairy · 1 year
Text
Secret Cove (Part 2: Busted)
Neteyam x Metkayina (oldest daughter of Tonowari, the chief)
Neteyam is 18
Contains: arguing, protective Neteyam, slight violence
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I squint against the morning light and place a hand to my pounding head. Where am I? Someone moves behind me— Neteyam. His arm is draped across my waist, his long fingers spread across my stomach. Memories of last night come back to me instantly; us slipping away from the village, swimming under the night sky, kissing in the cove. Heat creeps onto my cheeks as I turn towards him. 
His eyes are closed, his chest rising and falling. His dark hair frames his face as his tail swishes back and forth. I inhale sharply. We really should go, we’ve been out all night. Someone will definitely notice if we don’t show up for morning chores. But he is so peaceful. He looks like an angel. 
He stirs and cracks his eyes open, revealing their brilliant golden hue. “Staring at me, ocean girl?”
“You wish,” I reply and flick him with my tail. He tries to grab it but his fingers aren’t quick enough. I smirk at him. “You missed, forest boy.” 
He looks challengingly at me before flipping on top of me. My back scraps against the wet rocks as he leans over me, his face inches from mine. He reaches to the side and touches the end of my wide tail softly. “I didn’t miss a thing.” 
 The heat of his breath caresses my cheek, his face is an inch from mine. Neteyam smiles lazily. He is the most relaxed I’ve ever seen him. I can’t help myself. I reach my hand out and place it along his jaw. He tilts his head to the side, his eyes watching me, like he sees something in my gaze that intrigues him. 
I pull his jaw close and tilt my lips upwards. He leans towards me, his lazy smile growing by the second. Nothing matters but his lips as they brush against mine, just a whisper of a kiss. I open my mouth to kiss him harder when a voice erupts through the cove. 
“SISTER!” Aonung yells. My heart drops into my stomach. Aonung floats in the middle of the cove, waves lapping around his chest. His eyes blaze with fury as he narrows them at Neteyam on top of me. 
I push Neteyam off of me and we scramble to our feet. I open my mouth to say something, anything, but I’m speechless. Aonung slaps his arms against the water as he quickly swims to the edge of the cove and climbs onto the rocks. 
“You brought him here?” Anger drips from his every word. He’s never been this mad at me. In the past, I was always the one who was mad at him. 
 Neteyam looks between us, assessing the situation. I take a deep breath. “Aonung, please. Calm down.” 
“Calm down?” He yells at me. He starts to take a step towards me but Neteyam steps in front of him, his eyes hardening. Aonung’s tail slashes furiously behind him. Guilt washes over me. My siblings have never seen me break rules before. I’ve always tried, so hard, to be the perfect role model.
Aonung eyes dart between Neteyam and me, his eyes flashing with rage and confusion. “This is our family’s place,” he says. 
I push past Neteyam. He moves but stays close behind me. “I know. This isn’t what it looks like—”
“Did you mate with him?”
“No!” 
“What are you doing here then?”
“Aonung, stop.” I have to stop his questions. He can’t think this of me. No one in the village can, I have a reputation and duty to uphold. Panic begins to coat my insides.
Aonung shakes his head. “You came here to drink,” he starts and points to the empty wooden bottle. “Drink and do whatever it is you two did.”  Neteyam blows out an angry breath at his words but Aonug continues on, “I thought you were better than this, sister.”
“Aonung,” I say, doubting myself for the first time since last night. I normally would never, ever do something like this. Something that could bring shame to my family. “This isn’t what it looks like. I came here to show Neteyam where we hold celebrations. That is all.” 
Aonung raises an eyebrow at me. “He was on top of you. It looked like—” 
I cut him off by forcing myself to laugh, and doing everything I can to make it sound convincing. “We were just messing around. It didn’t mean anything.” 
Neyetam becomes completely still. Relief floods Aonung’s features and his tail stops its angry swishing. “Good! I’m sorry,” he says to me and then to Neyetam. “I thought my sister had lost herself for a moment.” 
I give him a tight smile. Of course, Aonung would believe me as easily as that. He’s never had to question his older sister before. Neteyam says nothing. Aonung pats my arm. “See you soon for training.” He winks at Neteyam, dives into the water and swims out of the cove. 
I blow out a breath of air. That was so close–too close. I almost lost it for a second. A small hysterical laugh escapes my lips as I turn to face Neteyam so we can laugh this off together, but his face is like stone. 
“Neteyam?” 
He pushes past me and picks up the empty bottle. He shoves it back into its place before jamming the compartment shut. His ears twitch against his skull.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. “We weren’t caught.” 
Neteyam mumbles something forcefully under his breath. He looks at me, his eyes full of indignation. “Doesn’t matter. Didn’t mean anything, right?” 
Oh, no. No, no, no. I reach out for him but he dodges away from my grasp. “Neteyam, I didn’t mean that.” My voice comes out desperate. 
He walks to the edge of the rocks, not meeting my eyes. 
“I only said that so we wouldn’t get caught,” I say following behind him. 
“So you wouldn’t be caught with me,” he states.
“No–” I begin to protest but he turns. 
“Don’t worry, ocean girl. It didn’t mean anything to me either.” He didn’t even look at me as he dove into the water and left me alone in the cove. 
~~~
I’m late for training. Everyday, we meet with the Sully kids to help them train and learn our ways. I’m so nervous to see Neteyam, my mind keeps thinking of a million things I want to say to him. I need to explain. I had tried to swim after him once he left the cove, but he was too fast. When I’d swam out, he was already gone. But he has to show up for training. I’ll get him alone then.  
I make my way quickly down the beach. It’s late morning and the group is already gathered by the palm trees. I can make out Tuk’s small silhouette and Tsireya’s wavy hair. My stomach churns, I don’t see Neteyam. Don’t stress, I tell myself, he’ll come. He always does. 
Once I reach them, I put on a big smile, pretending everything is fine. “Hello.” Kiri glances up from her spot in the sand, next to Tuk. Aonug and Rotxo turn around at the sound of my voice. Lo’ak and Tsireya don’t look up as they continue their conversation. 
“Hi!” Tuk says as she runs up and hugs me. I smile at her while patting her hair. 
“Sister,” Aonung begins. Seeing his face causes anger to boil in me, even though it isn’t his fault Neteyam is mad at me. That's all my doing. “Ready to begin?” 
“Neteyam isn’t here yet,” Lo’ak replies, leaning against a palm tree. Tsireya looks at me, her eyes growing concerned. I quickly face Aonung. My sister has always been good at seeing through me. 
“We can’t start without my big brother,” Tuk states before plopping down in the sand again. 
Aonung looks like he is about to argue with her when a familiar voice comes from around the corner. “I’m here, Tuk,” Neteyam appears from behind the palm trees and walks over to Aonung. “I apologize for being late.” 
My heart quickens at the sight of Neteyam. Lo’ak smiles at his brother and Aonung gives him a quick pat. I try to catch Neteyam’s eye but he purposely doesn’t look at me. He looks at the ocean and nowhere else. His shoulders are tense. There’s a crease on his forehead that isn’t usually there. All his walls are back up. 
“Let’s start with some breathing exercises. Everyone, sit down and face your partner.” I say, hoping my voice sounds normal before I begin to move towards Neteyam. He quickly grabs his brother and pushes him into the sand. Lo’ak’s eyes widen at Neteyam’s sudden movement. Neteyam sits across from him, his face unreadable. I groan quietly. This is going to be harder than I’d thought. 
“Need a partner?” Rotxo asks before sitting in the sand next to Lo’ak. 
“Yes, I do,” I reply and sit down right next to Neteyam. He stiffens as I cross my legs under me. Lo’ak raises an eyebrow at Neteyam before exchanging a look with Tsierya. She shrugs at him. 
“Begin with deep breaths. Focus on slowing your heart rate. Pay attention to the rhythm of  your partner's breath,” Aonung calls. 
We all begin breathing. Tuk and Kiri, Tsireya and Aonug, Lo’ak and Neteyam, Rotxo and me. I can feel the heat radiating off of Neteyam’s body. I want to reach out and touch him. It’s torture being this close to him and having him not look at me. 
“You okay?” Rotxo asks. Neteyam’s eyes shift slightly so he can see my reaction out of the corner of his eye. I nod. 
Rotxo smirks playfully. “Might be tired from your late night.” I freeze before forcing myself to act natural. How did he know? Neteyam stops his breathing. 
“What are you talking about?” I question, pretending to seem clueless. 
“I saw you leave the cove early this morning.”
Shit. Tuk and Kiri look at something in the sand, ignoring their breathing lesson and, thankfully, this conversation. 
“So what?” I argue, a little too defensively.  
“So, I know what happens in those types of coves,” Rotxo wiggles his fingers at me. “Didn’t know you got down like that.” 
Bile rises in my throat. This is exactly what I didn’t want to happen. Neteyam’s thin tail twitches. I open my mouth to respond but Rotxo continues, “Who was the lucky guy?”
Lo’ak looks at Neteyam in confusion but he doesn’t notice. He is looking at Rotxo now, not bothering to hide his eavesdropping. 
“Stop talking, skxawng.” I retort before closing my eyes and pretending to focus on my breathing. 
I think Rotxo is done talking until I feel the sand shift beneath me. I open my eyes to find him right in front of me, a dangerous smile on his face. “Well, if you get bored of him there’s always me.  And if not me, then I can think of a least a dozen other guys who want to—”
I don’t even see Neteyam move until he is on top of Rotxo. Neteyam shoves him into the sand before I can even register what’s happening. Rage covers Neteyam’s face making him look like a vengeful angel. Neteyam balls his fist together and punches him. Rotxo’s head slams back against the sand, blood already flowing out of his nose. 
“Damn, bro!” Lo��ak calls as he jumps to his feet. Surprise shoots through me and keeps me frozen in place. What is Neteyam doing? I snap out of it and climb to my feet. “Neyetam, chill! He was just teasing.” Lo’ak yells again. Aonung leaves Tsireya’s shocked face and comes running over.
Neteyam doesn’t hear or notice our reactions. His eyes are glued on Rotxo as he punches him again. He tries to roll away and push Neteyam off, but it’s no use. Neteyam is too strong, he pins him down easily, mustering angry words that I can’t make out. I place a shaking hand over my mouth. 
“Help me!” Aonung motions to Lo’ak. They each grab one of Neyetam’s arms, trying to haul him off of Rotxo. Neteyam fights against their grip. He doesn’t look at anyone other than Rotxo, his gaze is murderous.
“Neteyam! Stop!” Tuk cries. Her eyes are full of tears as she hugs Kiri. Kiri strokes her scared sister's head, a look of confusion on her face. Neteyam never starts a fight. 
At the sound of his sister’s cry, Neteyam freezes. He allows Aonung and Lo’ak to haul him away. Rotxo rolls over, he groans in pain as blood covers the sand. Neteyam blinks like he is waking up from a dream. He looks at me first, his face raw with emotion; anger, sadness, and longing. I want to run and hug him but he turns his gaze to Tuk. Shame and guilt gather in his eyes. A feeling, I know all too well. He opens his mouth to say something when a voice yells at us. 
“Children!” an adult Metkayina sits on an ilu in the ocean. Their eyes widen at the sight of Rotxo’s blood. “What’s going on here?” 
My stomach drops. We’re screwed. 
~~~
Rotxo and Neteyam sit before my father in our family pod. Kiri, Tuk, and Tsireya had run to get Jake and Neytiri. They had slipped into the pod, worried expressions on their faces before telling the girls to run along. They stand behind Neyetam. Jake asses Rotxo’s face with a harsh expression. 
I stand against the wall, next to Lo’ak and Aonung. They keep whispering about how crazy that was. I don’t have the energy to respond to them. I’m so overwhelmed that I can’t even begin to process. My breath comes out in ragged, quick spurts as I try to calm myself. 
“What happened?” My dad asks, his deep voice echoing through the pod. My mother stands behind him and puts her hands on her pregnant stomach. 
Neteyam stares down at his five fingers, each one bloodied and beginning to bruise. “It is my fault,” he says solemnly. 
Shock covers Jake and Neytiri’s faces. “What?” They ask at the same time. 
My dad’s eyes harden, as they always do when he’s about to give a punishment. I clench my shaking hands together. 
“Wait,” Lo’ak interrupts. “He was defending her.” Lo’ak points at me, causing every pair of eyes in the room to look right at me. My face burns. Neyetam and I lock gazes, and shared worry passes between us. 
“From what?” My mom asks. 
Rotxo runs his hands through his hair before looking up at my parents. “I was just messing around. I don’t think Neyetam got the joke.”
“And what joke was that?” My father questions and leans his large body forward. 
Rotxo swallows nervously. “I saw her leave your family cove this morning. I was joking that—”
“Our cove?” My mom repeats as she looks at me in surprise. Shit, shit, shit. My heart pounds so hard I worry that everyone in the room can hear it. Neyetam’s shoulders tense up, the way they always do when he’s on edge. 
“Mother, father,” Aonung says and puts his hands out in front of him like he’s trying to calm everyone down. “Let me explain.” He looks at me with a reassuring nod that does not reassure me, not in the slightest. He continues on, “She was just showing Neteyam where we hold celebrations.” 
My father cocks his head to the side and looks at me. I nod at him, affirming Aonung’s story. He looks at Neyetam, who follows my lead and also nods. My father’s stern face begins to relax. Jake and Neytiri also seem to relax, now that they have an explanation for their son’s unusual behavior.
“They even cleaned up the empty bottles before their little wrestling game thing,” Aonung finishes with a proud smile like he’d just solved everyone's problems. 
“Wrestling game?” Jake whispers in confusion to Neytiri. She shushes him. 
My mother sets her mouth in a hard line. “Empty bottles?” She and my father exchange looks. All the heat that had gathered in my face vanishes, I feel cold all over. 
“Children, out!” My father’s voice booms. Lo’ak jumps at the sound, Aonung looks at us, Rotxo scrambles to his feet. They all leave, whispering to each other as they go. Neyetam begins to stand when my father glares at him. 
“Not you.” He looks over at me. “And not you. Come, sit down.” 
I feel like I’m moving in slow motion. This can’t be happening. I sit down next to Neteyam. He looks at me with sad eyes and his ear twitches nervously. 
“What’s happening?” Jake asks as he motions between the two of us. 
“All the bottles in our cove are full.” My mother responds, disappointment coating her voice. I cringe at the sound. 
“Neyetam wouldn’t drink,” Neytiri replies. Jake nods in agreement. Neyetam breathes slowly out. 
“Then who did?” My dad asks. I look at Neyetam but he’s staring down at his hands. I sigh and brace myself for what’s about to come as I open my mouth to respond.  
“I did,” I say at the same time Neteyam says, “It was me.” We look at each other in surprise. Neytiri gasps as Jake lets out an irritated groan. My mom shakes her head and my dad’s lips turn downward. He points at Neyetam accusingly before looking at Jake. 
“Your son’s influence?” 
“Neyetam is a good kid. He’s never done anything like this before,” Jake replies.
“It is my fault, truly,” I say. This time I stare at the floor, not wanting to see anyone’s face. “I asked Neyetam to go with me.”
“I wanted to go—” Neyetam protests. Jake reaches out and puts his hands on his shoulders, silently telling him to stop talking. 
“Daughter,” my dad begins, “I’m very disappointed.” Neytiri flicks the back of Neyetam’s head as if to say she is also disappointed in him. 
I look up and instantly wish I hadn’t. My mother is studying me, her eyes darting between Neyetam and I, accusingly. “What’s this about wrestling?” 
Neteyam and I freeze, each of us sitting so still we look like statues. I don’t risk stealing a glance at him even though I want to. My mom walks towards us before kneeling in front. Her eyes move slowly from his face to my face, absorbing every detail. I feel exposed, like everything that happened last night is playing right out in front of her. Neteyam’s tail swishes behind him, letting me know he feels that same way. 
“What is it?” Neytiri asks. 
“There is more between these two than they have told us.” 
My dad’s mouth falls open. Jake steps forward, “What do you mean?” 
“Did you two mate?” My mom asks, her face completely serious. Neytiri gasps again. Jake stumbles backwards in shock. 
“No, we didn’t!”
“No,” Neyetam looks at his parents. “We did not. I swear this.” 
My mom believes us, it’s clear in the way she looks at me. Everyone in the room relaxes slightly. I don’t feel any relief, I feel so tense. How is this happening? 
My mom stands. “But you came close.” 
I don’t have a response to this and neither does Neyetam. Jake steps forward, anger shining on his face. “Neyetam, is this true?” A moment of silence passes before he nods slowly and forces himself to face his dad’s furious face. My heart breaks for him. My Neyetam, who tries so hard to please his father. 
My dad grabs my shoulder suddenly. “So you two got drunk and–” he shakes his head incredulously, “This isn’t like you.” 
I hang my head in defeat. Defeat that I know Neyetam feels as well. This is all such a mess. 
“It isn’t like Neyetam either,” Jake says before crossing his arms in front of him. “Maybe the two of you aren’t good for each other.”
My father cocks his head to the side, thinking about this. He nods. “Yes, you two are not to see each other outside of lessons and training.” 
“No!” I yell, not bothering to hold my emotions back. I let them flood my voice, my desperation and pain. “Don’t do this, father.” 
Neytiri looks between my dad and Jake before staring at Neyetam and I, a strange look crossing her face. My mother says nothing, she just looks at me as if she doesn’t recognize me.  
“We shouldn’t have drank last night but we,” Neteyam motions to me. “We are good, she makes me happy, sir,” He says to my father, an open and honest look in his eyes. Relief floods through me for the first time. She makes me happy. I had been so worried that he was only angry at me, but he still cares for me. 
Jake shakes his head. “You can’t afford distractions like this Neyetam. Think of your siblings.” 
“And you,” my father says to me. “Have a clan who looks to you. You are my eldest. Act like it.” 
Jake nods to my dad before gripping Neyetam’s shoulder. “I’ll take care of him.” 
Neyetam looks at me, his forehead creasing together in panic. I reach out for him as his dad pulls him up to his feet, my fingers just missing him. He looks at me and tries to say something but Jake pushes him too quickly out of the pod. And just like Neyetam is gone. Pain explodes in my chest, physical, actual, pain. Like my heart truly is breaking. 
“Dad,” I say, defeated. Neytiri looks at me once, an expression on her face I don’t recognize. She walks out without saying anything. I close my eyes, not wanting to face my parents alone. 
~~~
 I can’t sleep. My mind keeps replaying everything over and over again. Neyetam hitting Rotxo. My parents finding out about the drinking. Them forbidding us from seeing each other. I roll onto my side, facing a cut out in the pod and stare at the night sky. I never even got a chance to truly apologize to him for this morning. 
My parents' steady breathing fills the pod. They’ve been asleep for hours now, after they finished interrogating me and reminding me how disappointed they are. I’ve never let them down before, the feeling hangs over me. It also makes me angry, so unbelievably angry. Who are they to tell me to stay away from Neyetam? I am an adult. I can choose to be with who I want. 
I can’t stop thinking about Neyetam, everytime I close my eyes, I see his face. Aonung starts to snore from the other side of the pod. That’s it. I sit up in my cot and look at my sleeping family. They cannot control me for my whole life. I won’t let them. I slip out of my cot silently and tiptoe to the cut out in the pod. I step over it, careful not to make any noise. Once I step both feet over, I take a few steps backwards before taking off into the night. 
The village is asleep. No one is out on the walkways so I make my way easily to Sully's pod. The ocean glows at me, as if it’s encouraging me forward. I take a deep breath. I want to see Neyetam and nothing is going to stop me. 
I slow down as I reach the side of their pod, unsure how to get his attention without waking anyone. I crouch down and inch my way towards the entrance of their pod. The determination I’d felt a moment ago was fading into nervousness. I haven’t been alone with Neyetam since last night. 
A hand touches my shoulder. I whip around to find Neytiri, an inquisitive look on her face. She smiles, a sad smile. “You aren’t supposed to be here.” 
I open my mouth to make up some excuse but I snap it shut. I’m tired of pretending. “I want to see him.” 
As if my own word had summoned him, Neyetam steps out of the pod. My heart aches at the sight of him. He looks at Neytiri and I in surprise. He steps towards us, being cautious so he won’t wake anyone. He has bags under his eyes like he'd been trying to sleep but couldn’t. 
“Just for a little,” Neytiri whispers to us. She pats Neteyam’s arm and kisses his cheek. “I won’t tell.” She doesn’t look back at us as she walks into the pod. 
It’s just us now, in the silence of the village, illuminated only by the glowing creatures in the sea. He stares at me, a million words are written in his eyes but he says none of them. I grab his hand and he quickly wraps his fingers around mine. 
“Come on,” I say softly before pulling him along. He follows me through the village, the only sound is our steady breathing. The air is sweet tonight, so unlike the events that have occurred. No, I don’t want to think about that now. Neteyam’s hand is intertwined with mine, that’s all that matters. 
We reach the end of the village and sit down, letting our feet dangle off the edge and splash lightly in the water. Our thighs touch as we sit close to each other. The night sky is so beautiful that we both watch it for a moment before returning our gazes to each other. 
“I want to say I’m sorry,” I whisper. 
Neteyam reaches his hand up and cups the side of my face. I lean into his touch, feeling his soft fingers. “You don’t have to be sorry. It was both of us–”
“I’m sorry for what I said this morning,” I interrupt. “Last night meant so much to me.” 
His fingers caress my cheek as he lets out a long breath. “I’m no longer angry. Today, when I saw Tuk’s face. She was so confused. She didn’t understand why I was acting that way.” 
I bring my hand up to his, intertwining our fingers so they both rest against my cheek. 
“I understand why you lied to Aonung. When our siblings expect us to act one way, it’s hard for us to then…” he sighs. “I understand now.” 
“I still shouldn’t have.” 
He shrugs. “I think we have bigger problems to worry about now.” He lets go of my hand and pulls away from me. My heart sinks. Maybe he doesn’t want this the same way I do. I think back to both our parents, staring at us in disbelief. I chew on my bottom lip. 
“So,” he begins, “What are we gonna do?” 
I could ask him to answer first. Or I could do what I would in the past, and say that we should follow our parents orders. But he’s sitting right in front of me. His skin glows in the night, the most beautiful shade of blue. When my heart beats, it sounds like his name. I’ve never felt this way before. He makes me feel safe and free. He makes me want to enjoy life, not just do my duty. His golden gaze watches me steadily as he waits for an answer. 
“I can’t change how I feel about you,” I say, looking directly into his eyes. “I don’t want to change it. And I don’t care what anyone has to say about it.”
His entire face changes: his gaze sharpenes, his shoulders loosen, his ears perk up. And then he smiles, his lips break apart revealing his white teeth as his grin grows. I smile back at him, a weight that I didn’t realize I’d been carrying, lifts off my shoulders. 
He leans slowly forward. I follow suit, breathing in the same air as him. His lips touch mine, softly and lovingly. He pulls back and looks into my eyes. “Good because I can’t change how I feel either, not even if I tried.” I giggle at him and he kisses me again, our lips fitting perfectly together. He moves from my mouth to my cheek as he leaves a trail of kisses all the way to my ear. 
He leans back and whispers, “We already broke two rules, what’s a few more?”
Thank you so much for the love and support on Part 1! I appreciate it so much.
Would anyone want a Part 3? Or should I start a new project? Let me know what you would want to read! I also love any kind of feedback so if you don't like something, tell me! Thanks again <3
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pixieknj · 8 months
Text
strawberries n cream 🍓⊹。໒꒱ | JJK (18+)
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♡chapters: one / two / three / four / drabble♡
​⊹🍓series ❤︎ ˚ ༘ ⋆
❥pairing: jungkook X black!reader
❥genre: smut, ex lovers/fwb
❥summary: jungkook’s late night visit to your dorm 🍓…
.⋆。⋆༶⋆˙❀༺⋆。⋆༶⋆˙ .⋆。⋆༶⋆˙❀༺⋆。⋆༶⋆˙ .⋆。⋆༶⋆˙❀༺⋆。⋆༶⋆˙ .⋆ .⋆༶⋆˙❀
❥!!warnings!!: rough sex/fight sex, detailed smut, some toxicity, crying during sex [nothing sad lol], mention of choking, hickeys, fingerprint bruise
❥other warnings: sexual intercourse, raw sex [please use protection!], oral [fem receiving], some fingering, jungkook is so p^ssy whipped and clingy, puppy jk, princess nickname, pillow princess reader [she just wants her nut okay🎀], mention of weed, comparing brown coochie to food 🍫🍓🍦, featuring jimin, POV switching
❥word count: 3.9k
-inspo: seven by jungkook ft latto, gif from jjkgif on twitter, pics from Pinterest
-author’s note: Seven made me push my other wips to the side and write this soo here it is. I love the song and how Jungkook’s been lately so I was deeply motivated. I am still working on updates, but thank you for waiting. I also have some fic recs to share that I’ve kept. I hope you enjoy this for now💕!
-dedicated to: @maltate123 @mayawastaken26 @lelewright1234 @frogs2857 💗 they’ve been motivating me so much to finish my drop, thank you! and @jkoo-njoo because I miss them 🫶🏽
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Jungkook showing up at your dorm at 2:30 in the morning brandishing a My Melody plushie and your favorite snacks further enacts the futility of Jimin’s ability to keep his mouth shut.
What other reason would your ex-slash-situationship be knocking at your door with big eyes and damp, curly hair? With how dramatic Jungkook is, anyone else would have thought he trekked through the light drizzle outside to come comfort or grieve with you. But you know why he’s begging you to let him in and accept his gifts of… proof.
You don’t say anything as you leave the door open for him and go back to making your fruit bowl on the counter. You’d finished showering and doing your skincare routine to prepare for bed, but you’ve been too restless to sleep, hence, why you’re eating. Jungkook appearing out of nowhere looking like that isn’t going to help either.
The sound of him closing and locking the door and then slipping out of his shoes has your skin burning in goosebumps. Only now do you notice your frilly, revealing pajama set when Jungkook sets down his offerings and comes up behind you to hug your waist.
“Princess.”
You ignore him, arranging your strawberries and kiwis on top of the pineapples in the bowl. Being mean doesn’t seem to bother him much at first, since he tightens his grip and steps closer, shamelessly sniffing your sweet skin and watching you make your late night snack. His chin digs into your shoulder until you finish off the dessert with whipped cream.
“Princess,” he calls again. But you shake him off and eat a strawberry slice. You’re supposed to be relaxing. It’s becoming impossible with his breath on your neck and the beat of his heart on your spine.
“Jungkook, seriously…” You scold, finally turning around and looking at him head on. “You never understand what space is.”
Jungkook’s eyes are all twinkly and round when he sees you, despite the reddening in them that you know came from smoking weed. You can faintly smell it on his gray hoodie as he presses you up against the counter.
“I’m clingy, so what?” He mumbles. “Why are you ignoring me?”
“I’m not ignoring you,” you lie.
“Missed calls, missed texts… Telling Jimin you need to stay away from me,” Jungkook lists off. “Did I do something wrong?”
Urgh. You knew it was Jimin. A best friend playing both sides in between meant anything you said would make it to the other ear. You could just picture him with the nastiest grin ready to tell your ex all you’ve said about him. Jimin does it to you, too, smiley and hyped about news he needs to tell you about Jungkook.
“Not everything is about you,” you sigh. The way he’s confronting you has suddenly decreased your appetite and replaced it with nervous adrenaline. “Why are you even here?”
“I can’t come check on you now?”
You scoff. “That’s not why you’re here.”
Jungkook licks the piercings in his bottom lip, a solemn expression of that of a puppy’s gracing his boyish features. His head falls to your shoulder in slight shame.
“You think that lowly of me?” He asks. “That I’d walk all this way in the rain for some ass?”
“You’ve done much worse,” you remind him, pushing him off so you don’t have to hear him manipulate his way back into your underwear. Not that it takes him much effort. You think he talks how he does because it makes his dick hard and easier for you to succumb.
Jungkook clicks his tongue at how you read him but follows closely behind you to the other side of the dorm, plopping down onto your bed right next to you like it’s his own and cuddling one of your many Sanrio plushies, half that he bought. You roll your eyes and grab the remote to put on old cartoons, realizing he’s not going anywhere.
Leave it to Jeon Jungkook to be the attached and sickeningly pathetic lover boy of an ex. You hate that he still wants to see you and hang out. You hate that he doesn’t disown you to other people and shit on your name. You hate that he holds onto the connection between you both like it’s his lifeline.
He treats you as you did when you were dating, and it fucking sucks. Even though you lost him, you still have him, and it eats at you that you pushed him away for shit he didn’t have anything to do with. It’s not fair how you’re treating him in return, and you know he deserves better.
Your mind isn’t in the right place to give itself to him like he wants. But your body is. Always.
So you only resist a little when he tugs you into his side, ensuing the push and pull of tonight’s theme. Undoubtedly, the best atmosphere for the best sex. Jungkook understands how he’ll have to play to get your tiny, lace panties down your legs.
Determined, obsessive, and just as hateful back to take control.
Jungkook caresses your skin for a while before he’s pulling you over him, hips pressed together and grabbing your wrists to keep you from fighting him.
“Just give it to me,” he grumbles against your neck, seeing no need to keep beating around the bush. “Don’t you know how bad I wanna fuck you?”
Of course you do. He shows it every time, acts like he can’t go a day without you being wrapped around him or he’ll go insane.
His mouth drags kisses down your jaw as if you’re his last everything and that he needs to prove to you he’s worthy by giving it his all. You briefly think about how deliciously bruised he’d have you in mere minutes when he starts teething at the spot on your neck, aiming to get your pussy drenched and inside of you as quick as possible. But you’re not stupid. Remembering why he’d came over.
“N-No marks.”
Jungkook pauses to lean back, chortling a “What?”
“Don’t give me a hickey.”
He blinks. “Why?”
Don’t you understand blooming little flowers on your flesh is his favorite foreplay for a reason…
You, however, hold his puppy dog eyes and state as seriously as you can, “I just want you to make me cum and then get out.”
Fuck, you’re being rude. But you couldn’t bring yourself to explain about your stupid dress and how you need your skin free of Jungkook’s stupid blemishes for your stupid date in less than 24 hours.
Hickeys mean someone is dicking you down. Hickeys mean you’re taken. You don’t want whoever to see Jungkook’s bruises on you and assume you have a lover.
And you’re positive he knows about it by how he tongues his cheek. Now you’ve pissed him off. He thought Jimin was half fucking with him when he mentioned you were seeing someone.
“Fine,” he huffs, maintaining a calm demeanor, and goes back to leaving open-mouthed kisses along your throat. Obeying your wishes and using more tongue than suction.
His plush lips still get you horny nonetheless. They feel cloud-like against your sternum and the nipple Jungkook frees to suck in between them. He’s already so set on giving you what you want, well-versed in what to do, even the promises of not actually fucking you could deter him.
His bedroom eyes have your thighs clenching as he leans up to unzip his hoodie like he means business, revealing a tank top and toned arms, sharp tattoos. There’s a gold chain around his neck that adds to the sneaky-link/boyfriend look, and you go to mush imagining how you’re flopping this whole situationship so bad.
But it’s okay. Jungkook is fucking it up just as much, for he’s kind of an asshole behind the doe eyes and really fucking crazy about you. Had to work on some anger issues, but that emotion didn’t help win you back the first time. Now, it’s hard to tell what either of you are doing anymore and why he can’t leave you alone.
He doesn’t want you to become just a girl he used to know. Never.
A pretty girl who loves getting her pussy ate any time of the day isn’t how he wants to remember you either, but how could he stop giving you princess treatment, treat you as anything but? You are his princess, and that for sure isn’t going to be taken away.
Jungkook’s jacket is discarded on the floor and so are your soaked, delicate panties after he tugs them down your ankles. He noisily whines at you spreading your legs for him, aware how all the sparkling shades of brown and the bit of pink on the inside makes him want to devour you whole.
Your skin smells of your strawberry shortcake body wash when he bends to suck on your inner thigh, unapologetically biting and marking there because he really can’t help it. He doesn’t believe you’ll let anyone near his prized possession out of respect anyways, no matter who your date is. This is wholeheartedly his pussy.
It’s why you don’t complain about him adding more onto those fading bruises and willingly hold out your tongue when he brings his fingers to your mouth to suck. He sucks on them after you for good measure, rubbing your clit for a second before sliding two inside.
A dimpled smirk graces his face as you nod your head back against the pillows and moan, grabbing his wrist.
“There she is.”
Jungkook takes a swipe of your cunt with his tongue and slides his fingers in further. Just to tease you with what you’re missing, because he knows you love being stuffed full by his cock over oral... So then he’s taking them away from you, pulling you closer by your hips and settling your thighs over his shoulders. And plunging tongue first into your pussy.
His lip piercings rub against your folds as he sucks and nibbles, stiffening his muscle whenever it nudges your swollen clit. There’s no strategy in mind when he goes down on you, so he’s everywhere, licking hard, more so focused on how good you taste and the wetness coating his mouth.
Jungkook groans as you run your fingers through his scalp and push his head closer, arching your hips in a rhythm he hazily matches. You whimper a “fuck” when he lets you take control of his tongue for a second, tilting your head and tightening your thighs around his neck.
“Right there,” you tell him, watching him eat you out like he can’t get enough, hungrily kissing your cunt like he would your lips. He groans back in acknowledgment, not risking speaking over your buildup. But you don’t want to suffocate him, knowing how dirty you play when you’re about to orgasm.
So you push his curly hair back over his forehead to give him some air, seeing him slowly blink up at you with his tongue assaulting your entrance. His brows angrily furrow and his eyes roll closed as if he’s lucid dreaming this, like he’s in his own world. With the addition of his breathy moans on your pussy, you’d think he was addicted.
Jungkook has you cumming in less than seven minutes from his ministrations, although he could have hung it out for hours if he really wanted to. Your sexy, quick orgasm is worth it with how you’re trying to ride out the high, your legs squeezing his head and tongue captive while your cum oozes.
It always amazes him how he can eat you til you cream your pretty pussy right before his eyes. In addition, the rich and saccharine taste of your essence competes with that of strawberries and cream.
Chocolate-covered strawberries and cream to be exact.
He feels the need to let you in on it, too, and forces his tongue into your mouth. You moan and kiss him back, licking the taste of yourself off your lips when he disconnects.
“You really want me to get out?” Jungkook questions, breathless. You can feel his dick against your leg.
You shake your head. “No…”
You can’t have dessert without dinner anyways, right? Why did you think you would be able to kick him out right after? Jungkook is a certified munch and eats cat the same way he fucks. How could you pass up another round?
“No? You want me to fuck you, princess?” Jungkook whispers, your cunt throbbing in new arousal at how he holds your eyes for confirmation.
“Yes. I want you to.”
Jungkook purposely takes his time to pull off his muscle shirt, enjoying how you start toying with your nipples while you watch him undress.
You swear his sleeper build is insane. Muscles and abs, pert chest littered in hickeys you gave him a few nights back. Going feral over that deep v-line of his as he undoes his belt and tugs his baggy jeans down.
You literally moan at the sight of his pretty dick slapping up against his abdomen. You want to swallow it down your throat til you can’t breathe and choke, but then you think about how giving him the best suck of his life isn’t exactly “leave me alone” behavior… None of this is.
Jungkook is left in his gold chain necklace as he repositions between your legs, and you are already about to tear up when he pulls your hips up on his waist for the angle and spits on you. Mixing it in with your past orgasm and then over the dusky head of his dick as lubricant.
“Jungkook…”
He’s taking too long admiring his tip tease between your folds. He looks down at you with a smug grin.
“You want it that bad? Just so you can cry?”
You shyly glance away at the taunt, feeling small underneath him and not as in much control. He has the upper hand for the rest of the night, and it’s going to be hell.
Jungkook digests your silence as submissiveness, and he dislikes that. He wants you to bark back, get feisty with him, and equally as pissed as he is about that date. You would be livid if he was putting his attention into another woman.
It is pure betrayal he feels when he presses himself to your entrance and pushes in all the way. No moment to adjust like he usually gives you. Just hard and raw cock kissing your cervix in one thrust.
“What’s your fucking problem?” You hiss at the sudden sting. It’s ridiculous that you try to hold him back.
“You’re my fucking problem.”
It comes out in a growl, and before you can ask him what the fuck he means by that, he’s gripping your thighs to push them to your torso, leaving you no choice but to wrap your arms around him and dig your nails into his back as he begins thrusting.
“Oh, fuckkk,” Jungkook whines in your ear. You’re tighter like this since he has to fuck you open and can feel you wetting his dick even more for easier slip. But he jerks his hips through the death grip you have around him that he’s sure he’s hitting your g-spot by how loud you’re getting.
His skin starts stinging from you scratching so sharply you draw blood, but he keeps going. You’re losing it, truly, grasping onto the back of his neck and shoulders to hold your ground as he fucks you hard into the mattress.
“I’m right here, princess,” he reassures you and pecks your lips. Your face is scrunched up in pure pleasure, mouth agape, eyes watering. “Feels good?”
You nod.
He knows it feels good, feels like you’re teetering between life and heaven.
“Yeah?”
“Y-Yes, yes, fuck, so good,” you loudly moan, palms falling to his shoulders when he angles his hips a bit deeper. You go to push him to let up, but he moves your hands out of the way, thrusts barely faltering. His stamina and consistency is nothing to play with.
You get a good grip on the hair at the back of his neck next, but it doesn’t stop shit. If anything, Jungkook seems to enjoy how hard you tug at his damp hair while he pounds into you ruthlessly. Speeding up as if he’s about to cum like a masochist, but controlling himself to glide into the pace again.
You want to pass out from how he’s beating your pussy like you owe him money. Your ex is too strong to shove off you, and you’re only weakening with every snap of his pelvis against yours, with every fluttering in your lower stomach. Your eyes are pricking in tears, and you know your orgasm is at the edge.
“Is my princess gonna cry?” Jungkook asks, yanking your hands off of him again and actually stopping to give you a breather. “She’s so big and bad until I fuck her…”
Jungkook lets you fight at him for a bit more because, yeah, you really can’t take dick. Definitely not good, mental dick like his. You cum a lot from the slight pain, though, so he isn’t going to ever deny you your sick pleasure.
Plus, you love it so much. Getting thrown around and manhandled how he likes. He can barely pick up a rhythm after he pins your wrists down to the bed beside your head, you clinging onto him with a baby trapping grip. He grinds so thickly into your walls and against your love button to make damn sure you can sense him in your stomach days later.
Jungkook maintains eye contact as he looks you in the face and lets you cry about it, saying sweet nothings on how pretty you look and how you’re taking his big cock like a good girl. You cum again, holding out for Jungkook so that he can, too. Which he does by pulling out and cumming on top of your sex. He just needed to see that creamy ring around his shaft and knew he could finally let go.
You both lie side by side to calm down and cool off afterwards, staring up at your fairy lights quietly and listening to the sound of another thunderstorm brewing outside. Until your ex tries to cuddle into you, and your heart beats to hurt as much as your cervix.
“Get out.”
“No.”
You sigh. No shit it wasn’t going to be as easy as telling him to leave.
It’s back to ignoring him while you get up and head to the bathroom to pee and turn on the shower. Jungkook, to no surprise, slips in behind you, too. The shower is only big enough for one person, but he doesn’t care. He gets into the crowded space with you, wrapping his arms around your waist with his soft cock against your ass.
You clean and lather each other in your strawberry shortcake body wash and complimentary lotion before leaving the bathroom. Jungkook gets in your bed butt ass naked, so you decide you mine as well do the same.
You allow him to hold you this time, tracing your waist and the curve of your spine until you doze off.
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The thin scarf around your neck shockingly looks amazing with your strapless dress.
It’s more natural and fashionable in a not-trying-too-hard-to-impress-your-date kind of way since it covers some skin, although you wouldn’t have to wear the damn scarf if you didn’t wake up to Jungkook next to you.
You forgot he chokes you until you’re near death so that your orgasm has a higher chance of killing you than he does. Now you have a dark fingerprint bruise on your neck and ten more on your hips.
He finally allowed you to kick him out by afternoon after demolishing another fruit bowl dessert you made him, to which you’re sure that’s not the last of him, but it’ll do for tonight. He’s the biggest cockblock, and you’d be stupid to bring your date back here if it gets far.
Unfortunately, the universe continues to voice its disdain for the split from your ex and prevents you from escaping him.
Your date, a college peer, brings up Jungkook over and over at the restaurant. Asking if you two were high school sweethearts, seeing each other, or if he needed to talk to Jungkook before taking you seriously. Like he needed a blessing from him.
Detaching Jungkook’s name from yours and yours from his would be impossible when everyone watched your relationship from beginning to end, rooted for you both. Jungkook lives in your skin everywhere you go, and you have to accept it.
The evening gets boring fast. The guy is more interested in you and your ex’s situationship than you. And constantly bringing up how gorgeous you look and that your skin is glowing, instead of any individuality questions. You think he would personally praise Jungkook if you told him he was the reason for the afterglow.
You don’t order dessert or bother to offer more of your time by declining his ride back to the other side of campus. It starts raining, too, but you decide better on going alone.
You’re waiting for an available lyft ride when you get a message, your battery beginning to drain the rest of the juice it has left.
chimmy🤍: lol ur date thinks ur into him
chimmy🤍: texted me that he thinks ur really cute and wants another date
you: 🖕🏽hell no.
you: he’s boring and jungkook would scare his ass off easily
you: not for me :(
you: just tell him I had a great time
chimmy🤍: will do 🫡
chimmy🤍: did u make it back already??
You glance around the half empty restaurant and the dark parking lot being pelted in rain. On the app, there’s no rides nearby because of the thunderstorm.
you: im gonna walk
chimmy🤍: bitch.
chimmy🤍: if u dont text ur man
chimmy🤍: i set up the perfect date for u two to angry fuck
you: we did that last night and this morning but whatever
chimmy🤍: gasp!
chimmy🤍: fucking disgusting how u cant keep ur hands to yourselves geez..
chimmy🤍: text him
You groan, but you try not to think twice about sending Jungkook your location right before your phone fades to black. You feel terrible about texting him after the way you’ve been treating him as disposable, so you wouldn’t be mad if he decides to ignore you.
It’s fine.
The rain doesn’t seem to be slowing down almost ten minutes later, and you deserve to get drenched in this date outfit.
As you go to step off the covered platform, a figure suddenly knocks into you from the street. They stop you from tripping over yourself in your heels, holding you upright.
It’s Jungkook.
Dripping wet and panting as if he’d ran a marathon.
You weren’t expecting him to come…
“What happened? Why are you crying?” He rushes over his words after getting a good look at you. “Where is he? Imma fuck him up.”
You can’t help but to giggle at Jungkook looking inside of the restaurant windows for the guy, more emotional tears stinging your eyes. You hadn’t noticed you were crying the whole time you were standing here.
“I’m okay.”
You hug him, wiping your runny nose on his wet t-shirt. Jungkook squeezes you tight for a minute, noticing you still sniffling and steps back to cradle your face.
“Then why are you crying, princess? Tell me.”
“Nothing. It’s nothing,” you sigh. Pulling his palms from your cheeks and holding one of his hands. You can’t believe your feelings right now. “Let’s just go. Please?”
Jungkook looks from you to your hand and then back at you again. It’s been a while since you’ve held his hand platonically, but he instinctively grips yours back, comforting.
“Wherever you wanna go, princess. I’m right here.”
“With you,” you say.
“Okay, princess.”
Jungkook removes his jacket and slips it over your shoulders. It’s soaking, but it’s the principle that makes you gush at him being so boyfriend and so adorable.
You offer your hand again before he twines his fingers between yours, stepping out into the cold, pouring rain, walking contently through the darkness together.
.⋆。⋆༶⋆˙❀༺⋆。⋆༶⋆˙ .⋆。⋆༶⋆˙❀༺⋆。⋆༶⋆˙ .⋆。⋆༶⋆˙❀༺⋆。⋆༶⋆˙ .⋆ .⋆༶⋆˙❀
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huntingingoodwill · 1 year
Text
take me, so breathless (we could be reckless) (s.h)
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masterlist
pairing: steve harrington x reader
desc: "let's get married." late night, whispered proposals, steve’s dream of having six daughters and general sappiness
a/n: based off the let's get married cover by mitski <3 it’s so pretty give it a listen or be lame forever!!
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“You know,” Steve’s voice was barely a whisper, and lying next to him, you could feel it rumble in his chest, husky with sleep. “Fighting monsters, and nearly dying… it makes you wanna do the things you’ve always wanted to do. Before it’s too late.” He found your hand in the darkness, pressing the calloused pads of his fingers to yours before lacing them together, his fingers slotting perfectly in the spaces between yours. 
He felt your cheek twitch against his bicep as you smiled into the crook of his arm. His tan skin glowed a shade of deep blue as twilight crept in through the window. You had been up with him all night, the room silent except for the hushed breathing of those sleeping around you, and the rasp of your exchanged whispers.
“You’ve been fighting monsters?” Your finger reached up to ghost the raw, red line slashed across his freckled-sprayed neck, Adam’s apple bobbing beneath your touch. “I haven’t noticed.” 
His lips turned upward, a sweet, lop-sided smile, dimple furrowing into his cheek.
“Let’s get married.” He whispered. 
Your heartbeat kicked into life, thrumming hard in your chest as you blinked up at him through wide eyes, a warmth spreading across your neck. You propped your arm up on the sleeping bag, looking back down at him, equally excited, shocked and wondrous. His smile grew bigger.
“What?”
“Let’s do it.” He grinned, mirroring your position as he pushed himself up on his forearm, thumb running over the uneven ridges of your knuckles. “Let’s get married.”  
“You move pretty fast, y’know.” Your smile grew, an uncontrollable, dumb grin. You were completely happy. “We’ve only been dating for, what-” 
“Five months, twenty-one days.” The response rolled off his tongue, immediate and exact. “But who’s counting?” He scoffed, waving an arm around nonchalantly, a giggle escaping your lips. “I’ve always wanted to get married.” He said, expression softening, his gentle eyes peering into yours. “I’ve always wanted to marry you. I think… I just knew. As soon as I met you. Plus, with everything going on, if anything happens to me-” 
“Don’t say that.” You interrupted, the idea of losing him too awful to even entertain. 
“If anything happens to me,” He continued, slowly, “I want to know I did what I’ve always wanted to do. I want to know I married the person I love.” His fingers drummed against your arm, a little nervously. “What do you say?” 
“I’d love to.” A buzz of excitement sizzling through you, your fingers flexing subconsciously, shaking a little with exhilaration. You smiled so hard your cheeks hurt. “I suppose I’m a little shocked.” You let out a breathy laugh. “It’s just so sudden, and, well… you know people usually have… proper adult conversations before making a big decision like this.” You chuckled, stumbling over your words.
“Okay. Let’s have a proper adult conversation, then.” He said, sitting up, poking fun at your clunky phrasing. He rolled out his sore shoulders, as if preparing himself for an onslaught of serious questioning. You couldn’t help but laugh as he tamped his smile down, morphing his face into his most serious expression. “What do we need to discuss?” 
“Well, when will the wedding be?” 
“What time does town hall open tomorrow?” He replied instantly, glancing at the watch around his wrist. You dissolved into laughter at his eagerness, running a finger gently across the cool glass of the watch. 
“I don’t have anything to wear.” Your eyebrows furrowed.
“Wear that white dress I like. I have a suit.” He said decisively, running a thumb across your brow as if smoothing out the skin.
“Your parents will kill you.” You whispered dejectedly, the excitement you felt faltering as you grew still with worry.
“Who cares about them!” He exclaimed, almost a little too loudly. You couldn’t help but laugh at his dramatic outburst, peeking around your shoulder to check that your friends were still fast asleep. The sound of Robin’s soft snores reassured you. “They don’t need to know.” He mumbled. “Hey, I mean, it sounds cliche, but they don’t know about love. Not the way we do. They wouldn’t get it. So why bother about them?” The smile faded from his face, big, brown eyes trained on you. “We won’t end up like them.” He whispered, shaking his head softly. His voice was determined.
“We won’t end up like them.” You repeated, just as sure, tucking a loose curl that had fallen over his forehead back into place. He smiled, grabbing your hand and planting a kiss under your knuckle, nibbling at it a little to make you squeal as you drew your hand back in. 
“Any other questions?” He laughed, fiddling with your fingers.
“Hm…God, what else would serious, proper adults discuss…” You pondered. “Oh! Do you want kids, eventually?
“Yes.” 
“How many?” 
“Six.” 
“Six?!” You choked, him gesturing for you to quiet down at risk of waking the rest up. “Six?!” 
“Six.”  He repeated decisively. 
“How many boys, how many girls?” 
“All girls.” 
“All girls?” You giggled, raising an eyebrow.
“Shush. Don’t laugh.” He whispered, barely able to hold back his smile as he saw one form on your face. “Six kids. All girls. Travelling the world together. With you too, of course. So. What do you say? Tomorrow, as soon as town hall opens, in that dress I like?” 
“One kid.” You bargained, smiling.
“Five.” 
“Three.” 
“Deal.” He smiled. “I didn’t like being an only child. It was lonely for me.” 
“They’ll never be lonely. Not with us.” You muttered, lips lifting upward as you looked at him, your Steve. “Yeah. Let’s get married.” 
He grinned, eyes crinkling in the corners in that sweet way that you loved, and you reached out to touch his cheek, the smooth surface dotted with freckles, warm to the touch as he blushed. 
He leaned forward and kissed you as you cupped the nape of his neck gently, his soft hair brushing your hand as you felt his lips against yours, pink and soft. You felt heady, a gooey warmth building in your stomach as you smiled into the kiss. You were dizzy, dizzy with happiness. 
You fell back into his arms, both of you glancing up at the window above you as the first golden rays of sunlight blended into the blue, daylight reaching into the room, brushing its beams across his sun kissed skin. His lashes, thick and dark, fluttered against the light before adjusting, looking at you, his eyes glowing in the light, hues of whiskey and honey. 
“Are you crying?” You laughed, using your thumb to wick away a tear, glittering in the sun, rolling out from the corner of his eye.
“I’m just happy. Really happy.” He whispered. “Hey, you’re crying too!” He laughed, poking you in the side. 
“Shut up.” You sniffled, smiling through your tears as you punched him in the arm. “Can’t believe I’m marrying a wuss.” You pouted, ducking your face away from him, tears of joy dropping gently onto his bare arm. 
“Me too.” He joked. He tugged you closer to him, hand running up and down your back. The weight of his chin rested on the top of your head. 
“I love you, Harrington.” You whispered. 
“I love you too, Mrs. Harrington.”
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kisskiss-slashslash · 11 months
Note
Slashers accidentally killing their witchcraft s/o but a few minutes later they revived again and they find out that they are actually immortal?
Ty and have a great day <3
Here you go!
Warnings: Blood, Gore, Allusions to amputation
Slashers accidentally killing their s/o only to find out they’re immortal
Jason Voorhees
His machete slipped out of his hand, and time seems to slow down as it heads straight for you. There is nothing he can do, it all happens so fast, and before he even knows what is happening, you’re on the ground, the blade buried in your chest, down to its hilt.
His whole world is anguish. Memories of the night his mother died are flashing through his head. First her, now you. And this time, it was all his fault.
He sinks to his knees next to you without paying any attention to the escaping victim, and cradles you against his chest, hot tears dripping from under his mask onto your face.
You groan. “Hey… Jason? Love? Could you please pull the machete out? It’s really uncomfortable.”
He looks at you with wide eyes. You return his gaze sheepishly.
“I… I guess I should have told you that I kind of… can’t die.”
Wait what? He tilts his head at you.
“Yeah. You know. Practising witchcraft has its perks. Now please…. the machete?”
Needless to say he is torn between being angry and relieved. Could you not have told him that before he essentially relived his past trauma?
Vincent Sinclair
He mistakes you for a victim. He lost sight of the last survivor of the current group, but he can hear someone right next door.
He strikes before he can see who it is. And it happens to be you, now with his carving knives sticking out of your neck on both sides. When he realizes what happened, he reflexively pulls the knives out, and you are already on the ground, blood pouring out of the wounds.
He drops his weapons in horror and rushes to your side. You are losing too much blood, there is little he can do… But soon the wounds seem to close up again with no issue, and you sit up.
“Vincent, honey. Next time, please look before you slash. Okay? This would have gone horribly wrong if I weren’t immortal.”
You still look a bit ashen, but seem otherwise okay. You assure Vincent that while you may be a bit more tired and lethargic until your body managed to regenerate all that blood you lost, there won’t be any long-term damange.
Freddy Krueger
It’s a prank gone wrong. Freddy assumes that, as his s/o, of course you aren’t afraid of him, so he can feel free to play rough with you in the dreamworld. But love or not, appearantly there is a tiny sliver of you that is at least a little afraid of him and his powers. Which is unfortunately only something the two of you notice when your stomach gets sliced open while Freddy tries to tickle you.
“Ah shit… fuck… bitch… we’ve been together for so long, how the FUCK are you still afraid of me?!” He panicks and tries to stop the bleeding and you… you start laughing.
“Freddy, you can stop. I can’t die. The whole witchcraft thing, remember?”
“Are you fucking kidding me?!”
You double over and clutch your stomach, both from laughter and to keep your guts from falling out. It *is* pretty adorable how worried Freddy is for your safety. And in the end, even if he can technically hurt you, your immortality still means that you can play rough with each other.
Brahms Heelshire
Another one of his fits of rage, after which he finds you on the ground, bones broken and with blood pouring. He stares at your remains in horror.
“Hey…”
He kneels down next to you and shakes you.
“Hey, get up. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Please. Get up… don’t leave me…” He starts sobbing, uncontrollably switching between his child and adult voices in his distress, until he feels you gently pat his back.
“You’re grounded”, you say dryly. “Just because I’m immortal doesn’t mean I’m down to being your punching bag.”
“Yes. Yes of course. I’ll be good now, I promise”, he sobs, relieved that you are okay after all.
Bubba Sawyer
He accidentally touches the button that switches on his chainsaw while the two of you are fixing some malfunction. The saw buries itself in your torso, sawing through bone and soft muscle and organ alike. Your blood sprays through the room, and Bubba howls with terror while desperately fumbling to turn it off again.
He finally manages to, after a few seconds. But the damage is already done. His hands are cupping your face, running through your hair, knowing that after an injury like this, there is nothing he can do. He just whines softly, trying to somehow comfort you, if you can even still hear him.
“Geez”, you sigh, with some difficulty. The saw completely shredded one of your lungs, after all. “Good thing that it missed my spine; regenerating that would have been a pain.” You look up at him and are met with Bubba’s teary gaze.
“Bubsy”, you coo softly. “I’m fine. I don’t die that easily. Give me a week to recover and I’ll be good as new. So no tears, okay?” You raise your hand to wipe away the tears from under his eyes.
When Drayton later learns of this day’s events, he asks if you can also regenerate limbs, like, say, a leg. You will have to firmyl tell him that you are *not* going to end up being the family’s primary meat source.
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shuadotcom · 7 months
Text
Main Dish | HJS (M)
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☐ Summary: When lunch ends up being inedible, Joshua has to pick something else to eat.
☐ Pairing: Joshua x Afab!Reader
☐ Genres & AUs: Smut, fluff, established relationship!au, absolutely porn without plot
☐ Rating: 18+ (MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED)
☐ Warnings: Profanity, cunnilingus, fingering, dirty talk, pet names (baby, baby girl, sweetheart, honey, good girl), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, squirting
☐ Words: 3.2k
☐ Note: This fic is brought to you by my lack of cooking skills and my insatiable need for Joshua. It was also written for @kpopsblackcreatorsociety Bon Voyage Bingo event! The bingo square/prompt for this fic is camping.
Thank you @horanghater for being my beta ily 🥰
☐ Net Tag: @kflixnet
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“Please don’t go off, please don’t go off, please do-”
BEEEEEEP BEEEEEP BEEEEEEP
“Goddamnit!” Working as fast as possible, you grab the pan from the hot stove top, removing it from the heat. The blare of the smoke detector rings out through the apartment and you have to act quickly to open all the nearby windows, waving away the smoke in the air with the dish towel. 
Once the smoke mostly clears and the alarms have subsided, you survey the scene in front of you. Grumbling in frustration you eye the now burnt tofu on the stovetop and let out a disappointed sigh. You had just wanted to cook something fun and new for your boyfriend. He’s been camping with his friends for the past week and you figure he would appreciate a home-cooked meal but, as usually happens with you in the kitchen, it turned out to be a disaster. 
You weren’t a cook by any means, but you knew how to get by with very basic skills. Boiling eggs, making stove-top ramen, and using the air fryer slash toaster oven you had begged for on your last birthday. 
All of the essentials of cooking. 
Tonight, the plan was originally to try a new pan-fried tofu recipe you saw on TikTok because it looked yummy. Instead of looking like the wonderfully golden-fried nuggets that they were supposed to resemble, all that sits in the pan in front of you now are uneven little pieces of charcoal. 
Great. Wonderful. Amazing.
Standing in the middle of the kitchen, gnawing at a hangnail in distress, you didn’t even take notice of your boyfriend watching you from the entrance of the room, admiring how cute you looked in your little lounge clothes and apron. His entrance had been drowned out by the blaring of the smoke alarms.
“Don’t chew on your nails, honey, it’s not good for you.”
Joshua’s voice is much louder than the music you are playing from your phone on the counter and you nearly leap into the air when you hear him.
“Jesus, Shua! You scared the shit out of me!” Clutching your chest, you reach over and pause the sound from your phone.
He chuckles as he approaches you, wrapping his arms around your waist and drawing you in for a hug. 
“Sorry, baby. I couldn’t help it.” He apologizes, but the smirk on his face shows he’s not really that sorry.
Joshua places a kiss and your waiting lips and your annoyance at being jump-scared fades. He smells like outside and a little bit like sweat, but underneath that, he still has his usual warm, homey scent that belongs only to him.
You let him take your breath away a little while longer, arms wrapping around his neck to bring him closer. He rests his head against yours when you pull away, his eyes tired but still sparkling down at you.
“How was your guys' camping trip?”
“Well, Mingyu found a spider in his tent and tore the whole thing down trying to get out, Soonyoung got sunburnt and fell into the lake, and Vernon forgot his allergy medicine and spent all week sneezing.”
“So the usual shenanigans?”
With a chuckle, Joshua nods, looking you up and down. “Basically, but I’m having a much better time now that I’m back here with you.” He leans down to kiss your forehead and you still let yourself get flustered by his sweet words, even after three years together. “And what’s going on in here?” He asks when he finally pulls away, eyes looking over your head at the charred remains of your lunch.
“Nothing, just me fucking up in the kitchen again.” Pouting, you cross your arms, wincing as Joshua steps up to the counter, inspecting what’s remaining of the tofu.
“Ah baby, they don’t look that bad…” He uses the chopsticks you left nearby to poke at a piece, raising it to his face and sniffing it.
“Shua, don’t-” Before you can stop him, he pops it into his mouth, chewing extra slowly. Your boyfriend, always so sweet to you and considerate of your feelings, looks like he’s in physical pain as he crunches the food, his nose wrinkling with each shift of his jaw. With a sigh you walk over and grab a sheet of paper towel, holding it up to his mouth. “Spit it out.”
“It doesn’t taste terrible…” he mumbles between chews, eyebrows furrowing as he does.
“Joshua, just spit it out!” At your insistence he does, expression apologetic.
Joshua watches you take the rest of the tofu and throw it away, shoulders slumping in defeat. He moves across the kitchen to stand behind you, wrapping you in his arms. 
“Don’t be upset, baby. It’s just some tofu.”
“But I fucked up lunch for you! I just wanted to make you a homemade meal since you’ve been eating over a campfire all week.” Joshua coos at you, pulling you tighter against him.
“Aw, sweetheart, you didn’t have to do all this in the first place. I think we both know that you would’ve been better off ordering something. There’s a reason I do most of the cooking, remember?” He laughs, his tone teasing.
Gasping, you spin in his hold, round eyes staring up at him as you pout for what feels like the twentieth time tonight. “Joshie, are you saying I can’t cook?!”
Faltering, Joshua’s eyes dart back and forth, strategically planning his next words. 
“I - I didn’t mean that you can’t cook, Y/n. I just -”
“I’m kidding, Shua. Of course, I know I can’t cook.” He’s clearly relieved, rolling his eyes at your giggles. 
Joshua leans down to pepper your face with kisses, holding you close, ignoring your feeble attempt to escape his grasp.
“I guess it’s a good thing then that I wasn’t even thinking about what I’d eat for lunch.” He places a final kiss on your cheek before pulling back to gaze at you.
“You weren’t?”
“Of course not. How could I even begin to think about lunch when all I could think about was tasting you again?” Joshua smirks at you, laughing when you scoff, your turn to roll your eyes at him.
“How did I know you wouldn’t even be a little bit subtle about wanting to have sex as soon as you got back?” 
“Because you know how addicted I am to you and how much I think about you.” You and Joshua are chest to chest, his hands tracing your body, fingertips pressing lightly into your curves.
Joshua’s voice has already lowered an octave, eyes flickering to your lips. You’re in no way surprised at how quickly Joshua turned the situation from silly and domestic to horny, but you’re not bothered in the slightest, more than happy to fuck your boyfriend again. A week has been far too long of a time to go without Joshua’s cock inside of you.
“Oh, so you were thinking of me on your trip? Thought you’d be too busy grilling meat and playing games with the boys.” 
“Baby, I’m always thinking about you, but especially when we’re not together.” Joshua ducks down, his nose brushing yours. 
“And what about me were you thinking about exactly?” You whisper, holding your breath as you await his next words.
“Well, I was thinking all about how sweet your cunt is and how I couldn’t wait to come home and devour you.”
Somehow you hadn’t registered that Joshua walked you back until the counter pressed into your lower back, trapping you between it and Joshua’s firm body.
“Hmm…then I guess lunch is served whenever you’re ready to eat,” Tilting your head up, your lips brush against Joshua’s. You shift your leg forward, knee brushing against the crotch of his sweatpants. A grunt slips out of him when you make contact with his half-hard cock and he surges forward, lips meeting yours in a feverish kiss. 
Joshua’s soft lips move against yours, his hands cupping your face to keep you close. Your hands trail up Joshua’s thick arms, tracing every ridge and dip of muscle. You’ve never been shy about how much you enjoy the new gym rat era he and a few of his friends have entered, making sure to be very obvious about the way you appreciate the new muscle he’s worked on gaining. He also doesn’t hide just how much he loves how the bulkier version of him turns you on, your boyfriend flexing for you so the muscles tense and loosen a few times under your fingertips.
Those same strong arms move to hold your waist, holding onto you as he swallows every pant and tiny whine that you let out. Joshua’s tongue wraps around yours and sucks, the kiss descending into lewd territory as Joshua grinds against your thigh still wedged between his legs.
The kiss feels like it goes on forever, which is in no way a complaint. Joshua’s hands wander all over your body, hands skating down to grab at your bare thighs and up to your ass, grabbing a handful to bring your hips impossibly closer. It’s almost embarrassing how wet you are, feeling your cotton panties clinging to you with each shuffle of the fabric. 
Joshua seems to read your mind as he finally moves a hand under your apron and into the waistband of your shorts and panties, his finger grazing your pussy making you jolt and buck into his hand.
“Would you look at that? You’re fucking drenched just from my kisses?” To illustrate his point, he pulls his fingers from your shorts, holding the wet digits up to showcase your juices to you both.
“Fuck, yeah, I need you so badly. I missed you so much.”
Joshua hums, popping his fingers into his mouth, eyes closing as he sucks them clean, savoring your flavor. The scene is enough to have you rubbing your thighs together, easily recalling just how good his tongue feels when it’s on you.
“Mmm, I missed you too, baby. And speaking of, I’m starving, so I think I’m ready to eat now.”
Joshua plants his hands on your hips and turns you around so his front is pressed against your back, walking with you out of the kitchen and around to the island, leaving kisses on the back of your neck as you go. When you reach the side of the island that you usually sit to eat at, Joshua’s nimble fingers untie your apron and lift it over your head, tossing it to the floor. Your shorts and panties come next as he slides the fabric down your legs, letting them pool at your feet.
Your boyfriend makes a sound of appreciation at the sight of your bare ass, big hands squeezing your cheeks before landing a firm smack on one of them. He helps you up onto the island, sitting you near the edge. Joshua pulls up a stool in front of you, spreading your legs wide, and letting out a low whistle.
“Look at all of this, so messy and sloppy all for me.” Joshua leans forward and places kisses on the inside of your thighs, inhaling your scent as he does, small moans rumbling in his throat.
A few whimpers slip out of you with each kiss over your hot skin, Joshua’s breath hitting your core only serving to make you wetter. Joshua loves eating you out, always talking about how good you taste and how much he loves the way you smell when you’re dripping for him.
He doesn’t leave you waiting for long this time (another thing Joshua loves is to tease you, but he seems to want you bad enough to spare you this time) as his tongue finally licks at your clit, the muscle flattening and adding much-needed pressure. 
A squeal of Joshua’s name tumbles out of you as he licks a fat stripe from your hole to your clit - once, twice, three times, each go making you twitch underneath him. Your legs almost snap shut, but his firm grip keeps them open.
“Nuh-uh, keep your legs open, baby girl. I haven’t even started eating my meal.”
Your eyes stay trained on him as his hands grab the back of your thighs, pushing them toward you. You lie on your back in a more comfortable position, hands trembling as they hold onto the front of your shirt in anticipation.
“I’ll never get tired of eating you out, you know that? Never get tired of how fucking sweet you taste on my tongue.” To further his point, Joshua’s thick tongue slips into your pussy, lapping at your gummy walls, letting his nose brush against your clit.
“F-fuck!” Your hands dart down, fingers threading through his brunette strands, tugging at the root as he tongue fucks you on the kitchen island. 
Every grunt and groan that Joshua lets out is deep, deep enough that the vibrations can be felt throughout your whole body. You can’t help but thrash underneath him, loud obscene slurping sounds fill the room as he works. Joshua’s hands keep your thighs pinned down, preventing you from nearly falling off the counter while his face presses closer to your cunt. 
He eats you out like a man starved, a week without your pussy proving to be much too long away for him. The tip of his tongue is still buried inside of you, flicking at your walls at an almost impossible speed. 
Fire begins to quickly pool in the pit of your stomach, nails digging into Joshua’s scalp which only spurs him on more.
“Shua, b-baby so good!”
“Mmph?” You can’t quite hear what he says but it sounds like it has a questioning tilt at the end.
“‘M gonna cum!”
That must’ve been what he was getting at because he picks up the pace and moves his hold on you to the sides of your thighs and makes you wrap your legs around his head. Joshua uses this new angle to force you to rock your hips against his face, leaning into you so far that when you glance down, all you see is the top of his hair which you’re still holding onto for dear life. 
Rolling your hips you go with his movement, desperately riding his face. Joshua lets you, his tongue drilling into you, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.
When you do cum, you stiffen almost painfully as heat spreads through your body, your thighs squeezing around him like a vice, holding him in place. Your boyfriend happily continues lapping at your sensitive core, murmurs of praise accompanying his coos of delight.
“So fucking tasty,” Joshua sighs as he pulls back, finally taking in air through his mouth. He glances at you, watching your chest heave as you catch your breath. Without a second thought, with your hole still clenching around nothing, Joshua shoves one of his thick fingers into you, drawing a gasp out of you. 
“Shua!?”
He has the audacity to blink up at you, faux innocence on his face along with your juices still shining on the bottom half of his face.
“What? I want seconds.” He shrugs, adding a second finger which has you cursing, senses on overdrive. Joshua’s plush lips are back on your clit, sucking the nub into his mouth, ignoring the way your nails dig into his hair again, tugging on his soft locks. 
“Ngh, Josh-Joshua! Please!”
“Please what, baby?” He mumbles, lips still suckling on your clit, your legs quivering as they rest on his shoulders. His fingers have no trouble finding that soft squishy spot inside of you that has your eyes crossing, the squelching sound of your wetness ringing in your ears.
“I’m - I just…” You trail off when your boyfriend curls his fingers, the overstimulation derailing your train of thought as you feel another orgasm hurdling toward you. Joshua smirks up at you, loving the way he can literally watch as your brain short-circuits for him - because of him.
His lips go back to your clit, suctioning around the bud. His fingers delve into you faster, your velvety walls hugging his digits, coating them in more of your sticky arousal. Sweat beads at your hairline and tears prick your eyes as Joshua throws you into another orgasm, electricity coursing through your veins and a choked, desperate cry of Joshua’s name tumbling from your lips. 
“Yeah, just like that, good girl.” He purrs against your overworked pussy, slowly dragging his fingers out of you. You whimper at the loss, only for the sound to be replaced by a loud wail, Joshua’s slick fingers rubbing rough, frantic circles against your clit. 
“Shit! Fuck, Shua I’m - fuuuck!”
“Come on baby girl, one more. Make a mess all over the fucking counter.” The pads of his fingers drag against your clit, body arching as you flail your hands, scrambling across the marble of the counter looking for something to ground you.
The sensation borders on painful, the sensitivity too much to handle as the pleasure builds and your muscles spasm. When you cum this time, it knocks the wind out of you, your eyes rolling back, your mouth open in a silent scream. Joshua leans down, eyes watching with glee as you squirt all over his hand and arm, getting your mixture of arousal on his shirt. He even cranes his head down, mouth open to drink up the remaining spurts of your release.
He rubs lazy circles over your puffy clit, letting you ride out the rest of your orgasm until your hoarse voice begs him to stop and he does, but not before wiping up as much of your wetness as he can on his fingers and popping them into his mouth once again.
“Fucking hell, Shua!” You huff out when you’ve finally sucked enough air back into your lungs.
“What? I told you I was starving.” His cocky grin earns him a half-hearted kick to his shoulder using the minuscule amount of energy you have remaining. He catches your leg, placing a soft kiss on your ankle before he straightens up and sits back to admire your ruined state.
“Are you going to help me up or leave me here for the rest of the day?” 
“I should eat all of my meals in the kitchen, but I suppose I can help you down.” Joshua laughs at your half-hearted threat to kick him again and offers his hands to you. He helps you sit upright and slowly slides you off of the island. 
When you’re back on shaky feet, you move to pick your bottoms up, but he stops you by pulling you against him.
“Wh-”
“Oh, you don’t need those. I’m gonna order some lunch for us, but I need dessert before it gets here.” He presses his hips forward, his rock-hard dick pressing against your ass. Joshua once again envelops you in his warm embrace, lips skirting against the shell of your ear. “That okay with you, baby?”
Between the orgasms he pushed out of you only minutes ago and the dip in his voice, wetness collects between your legs again, pussy clenching at the thought of Joshua fucking you for real.
“That’s more than okay with me,” you rasp, clearing your throat. “I’m feeling pretty empty myself and am dying to be stuffed.”
947 notes · View notes
hyunsvngs · 5 months
Text
READ PART 1 FIRST!
turn to your right
Turning to your right, you don’t think anything particularly interesting is going to happen. It appears to be just a path leading towards another clearing in the woods, but the random sheets of metal intrigue you. Has someone been working on something here? You want to know what is going on. Why are you here? Why have you been sent here, and why did you pick this way? 
The leaves crunch underneath your boots, ensuring that you wouldn’t even be able to sneak around if you tried. Sharp brambles like knives are obscuring your vision, and you attempt to push them out the way, only finding that it leaves tiny slashes up the skin of your arms. Strangely, it doesn’t feel as though it hurts - the only sign that anything had happened is the sight of crimson blood blooming on your skin. Sighing, you continue on, hoping to finally reach something at the end of the winding path. 
It isn’t even a path, so to speak - you’re not sure you’re actually going to end up anywhere with the lack of markings on the road. 
Until you notice the tinkering, clanging noises are getting louder. There’s a light at the end of the path, glowing yet flickering in an unstable manner and you wince, pushing the brambles out of the way so that you can finally exit the route you’d chosen. 
You gasp at what you see, hand slapping over your mouth to quiet your noise. There’s an alien standing there, pale blue antennas poking out of dark navy hair. He’s got his back to you, clad in a white shirt and baggy white trousers. You wonder how they’re so immaculate considering he seems to have been here for so long, and he’s working on what looks to be a spaceship. You’d never seen one up close before, and you stand in awe, eyes fixated on the alien. He looks weirdly human, from what you can see - tinkering away with a tiny hammer, and his cheeks puffing out in frustration when you see him from the side. His skin is light blue and looks to be glimmering, twinkling every so often when the moonlight bounces off of the spaceship just right.
You were sure he didn’t know what he was doing, and you wanted to help, for some weird reason - but your mouth was moving and you were saying something before you could even process what it was. “Alien. You’re a fucking alien.” 
“Alien?!” The man - thing? - jumps, turning to look at you. His voice is deep, and his eyes are completely pitch black - even the area that would normally be white. His legs are quivering where he’s sat on the ship. He squeals, pointing at you. “Don’t just stand there! Where’s the alien?!”
You blink, letting out a shocked laugh. “You. You’re an alien.”
He looks down at his skin, still clutching the tiny hammer in one hand. He looks at the spaceship, then turns back to you, lips twitching with a smile. “Well, yes. I thought you meant there was another one. Hey, have you seen my dog?”
“Your… dog?” You question, head tilting to the side. The alien nods, motioning at a metal food bowl on the floor. It reads ‘Fluffy’, in all capitals, and the F’s have all been written backwards. It looks to be written in shaky Sharpie. You try to suppress a smile.  
“I haven’t seen him for a while,” He explains, frowning at the bowl. “He’s black and slimy, bigger than me. His name is Fluffy, and he’s the best dog, but I’m not sure he likes me that much.” 
“Oh,” You say intelligently. “I’ll let you know if I find him. What’s your name?”
“I’m Jisung,” He finally hops off of the top of his spaceship, walking towards you with an outstretched hand. He’s taller than you, but not by much - and he’s strikingly beautiful. His skin does glimmer, especially when he’s closer to you. “Do you wanna see my spaceship?”
You nod. Was that an euphemism? You guess you’ll just have to find out, and Jisung leads you into his spaceship. It looks rather small from outside, and you obediently duck through the door when he does before you. It’s definitely bigger on the inside, random lights glinting on a control panel in front of a large glass window. Jisung looks proud, a broad smile on his face. You make sure to ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ at appropriate moments, nodding in approval at the scenery. 
It is kind of uncanny, everything a bright gleaming white and almost blinding you. He even has a bed in here, you note, large and four-poster with white sheets tucked neatly in the corners. It is so clean. 
“How long have you been here?” You ask, and his antennas twitch in response. He frowns, absentmindedly scratching his arm with his hand. 
“I’m not sure,” He admits, blinking around at the walls. His eyes lock on a stack of board games in the corner, next to a stack of tins of dog food. How does he even have that? “I crashed here, and I’ve had to remake my spaceship. It’s kind of strange. It’s Earth, but… it’s not. It’s not Earth. How did you end up here?”
You shrug. “I’m not sure. I woke up here, and my watch broke hours ago. I don’t really know where I am or how to get out, if I’m honest.”
Jisung stalks towards his bed, flopping on his back. His toes curl in his boots, and he kicks them off with a huff, revealing his feet clad in pristine white socks. He blinks, leaning up to look at you. He’s weirdly human for an alien, if you ignore the blue skin and the antennas that keep twitching every time you speak. 
“It’s not too bad here,” He says, hand fiddling with the white duvet. “I have a dog! There’s a fairy here, too. He’s really pretty, but- but you’re prettier.”
He’s embarrassed, you realise. If he wasn’t blue, you’d be able to see a blush on his cheeks. His antennas droop regardless, his bottom lip pouting as he avoids eye contact with you. In a moment of realisation, you shove your boots off too, walking over to join him on the bed. 
“I’ve never seen an alien before,” You admit, pulling your knees up to your chest. Jisung mirrors you, pulling himself up onto his lap to stare into your eyes. They’re quivering, uncertain. “I think you’re pretty cool. You’re blue.”
“We all are,” Jisung huffs, but he stretches his arms out nonetheless to let you see his skin. It’s as if there’s a million lines of computer code within him, making up his entire being - yet he’s still so human. He’s so much like you, uncertain and a little shy but still talking a bit too much. “My race is, anyway. I’ve never seen a human before.”
You copy him, stretching your bare arms out. His fingers run over your skin tentatively, raising goosebumps in their wake and you bristle when he touches over the cuts on your skin. He hums, running his thumb over one. 
“You’re cool,” He blurts, and then he’s holding your hand. He’s looking at you with earnest, black eyes wide. “Humans are pretty cool. I think so, at least. You’re really pretty. You’re even prettier than the fairy boy.”
You giggle, clutching his hand tighter. “You’re pretty too, Jisung. You’re very handsome. Do you not have a sweet alien girlfriend back home?”
Jisung shakes his head adamantly, creeping closer to you. “Nope. I have no one back home, apart from my parents. It’s been just me since I crashed here.”
“It must have been lonely,” You murmur. Are you… hitting on him right now? You are. You so are, and he’s going along with it, judging by the way his lips are slightly parted. His teeth are perfect, jutting out just a little but so white and straight. His antennas stick stark upright. You decide to continue, wanting to see more of his shocked expressions. “It must have been so lonely, Jisung. How did you manage all on your own?”
“I have my hand,” He blurts, blinking down at where his hand is still wrapped around yours. “Unless that’s not what you meant.”
“It is what I meant,” You coo, running your thumb over the back of his hand. Before you can process what you’re doing, you’re climbing into his lap, and he’s letting you. His hands move to your waist, eyes blinking up at you with shock. He’s so cute like this, puffy cheeks and wet, parted lips. “Do you miss having sex, Jisung?”
“I- I guess, I d’no,” His chest is heaving. He’s surprised, but he enjoys it, judging by the way his fingernails are digging into your skin through your shirt. “It does get hard, just touching myself all the time. Especially since - okay, don’t freak out. Please don’t freak out.”
You hum, running your fingernails over his antennas. He shivers with the touches. Are they sensitive? “I’m not going to freak out, baby. Tell me.”
“I have two dicks,” He whimpers when you pinch the tip of his right antenna between two fingers. He… what? It’s your turn to part your lips, a shocked breath of air coming out of you. You’re wet just from knowing that, alarmingly so. “It’s- it’s an alien thing, higher chance of breeding or whatever. So it goes in both holes, and they’re lubed, so-”
“Show me,” You command, shifting off of his lap. Jisung gasps.
“Just- just like that? You wanna see? Please, it’s gonna freak you out-”
“Jisung,” You insist, and he quivers. He likes that. He shifts backwards, and then he pulls his trousers down. He’s not wearing underwear, you notice, and he definitely does have two dicks. His first length is shorter, thicker and veinier, perfectly crafted to fit inside your pussy and drive you insane. The second one beneath the first is longer, still quite thick but not matching the first one, curved deliciously to fit inside of your asshole. His balls are heavy beneath them both, no doubt holding a lot of cum to ensure he bred you full. They’re both darker than the rest of him, a deeper blue like an ocean, entrancing to your eyes. You manage to drag your gaze away from the thick mushroom heads of his cocks for long enough to gauge his expression.
“You think it’s weird, right?” He’s embarrassed, but his erection - erections haven’t gotten a slight bit softer, still rock hard against his pubic bone. 
“Absolutely not,” You say, licking your lips. They’re dry all of a sudden. Jisung turns to you, laying flat against the bed with his dicks still out, so hard and upright. You needed them. “I don’t think it’s weird. I’m so wet right now, baby, I need to kiss you. Can I kiss you?”
Jisung whimpers, nodding, and then you’re straddling him again. You ensure you’re towards his thighs more, trying not to interfere with either of his erections just yet. He leans up on his forearms, and the movement results in him being a mere few inches away from you. His lips are pursed, as if he’s considering something, mind running amok.
You kiss him before he can think about whatever it is too much. His lips are soft, supple and a darker shade of blue against yours. He moans into the kiss, deep and gravelly, and your hands move to his hair again. Brushing over his antennas makes him shift underneath you, and then he pushes his tongue into your mouth. It’s dirty, wet and messy against your lips and you keen wildly against him, sucking his tongue between your lips.
He pulls away, his antennas drooping against your fingers. “I don’t just wanna kiss you. I wanna see you, please, please, let me see you. I’m not above begging, you know!”
He’s so earnest it makes you laugh, and you slip your t-shirt over your head. Jisung stares at your chest with wild, wide eyes, his erections jerking beneath your body. You’re quick to get rid of your bra too, exposing your dusky, hard nipples to the cold air inside the spaceship. 
You jolt when Jisung sucks one of your nipples into your mouth, his hands moving to cup your ass. He’s moving your hips, you realise, grinding you into the lower, longer erection. It makes you whimper, his tongue swirling around your nipple like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. He even moans into your skin, hands splaying across your asscheeks and gripping into the skin tightly.
“I need you,” He moans, teeth catching your nipple just slightly. “I need you so bad, you’re so pretty. Such a pretty human, please. My cocks are so fucking hard for you, baby.”
“I can see,” You muse, moving your hands from his hair to wrap both fists around them, one in each hand. Squeezing them permits drops of precum onto your fingers, and he throws his head back, groaning. “I need you too. I need you, Jisung. I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as you.”
You’re not lying. He really is beautiful, his skin tender and glittering like sequins beneath your eyes. He grunts at your words, letting out a few exhales at the feeling of your hands wrapped around him. Before you know it, he’s swatting your hand away, flipping you over and kissing down your body. 
Jisung’s tongue runs down your nipples once again, and then his hands are making quick work of your trousers. He pops the button out of the clasp, yanking the zipper down and almost ripping them in the process of getting them off of your legs. Your underwear is revealed then, a simple cotton with a pale pink bow at the top centre, but Jisung’s eyes tell you he honestly believes you hung the damn moon. 
His antennas are stiff and upright when he finally presses his face to your centre, inhaling deeply. He whines, his tongue darting out to lick over the fabric. You let your thighs fall apart, running one hand through his soft, dark navy hair. He’s so pretty between your legs like that.
“You’re ovulating,” He murmurs, running one thumb over your clothed clit. “You’re fertile. It always tastes so much better when the pussy’s fertile.”
“Eaten a lot of pussy, Sungie?” You quip, but he simply smiles, teeth jutting out from his lips and eyes forming crescent moons.
“I’ll show you and you can guess the answer,” he suggests, and you nod, grinning. His thumbs hook into your underwear, pulling them down your legs and throwing them to wherever he threw your trousers. You lean back, preparing yourself against the sheets and staring at the crisp white ceiling. 
Nothing could have prepared you for the feeling of his tongue. Jisung licks over your clit, quick little kitten licks that make you keen. His tongue is pointed, almost sharp against your folds. He only moans at your reaction, thumbs moving to part your folds and reveal your hole. You’re almost dripping from the sight of his two cocks, and Jisung licks up the wetness you’ve accumulated, tongue dipping into your hole just slightly.
“That’s it, that’s it,” You babble, hands locking into his hair. He whimpers into your folds at the praise, his body almost vibrating in between your legs as he licks up your core. He’s messy, imprecise, but you can tell he knows exactly what he’s doing. “Oh, baby, you’re so good at that.”
“Mmhm,” Jisung mumbles, muffled by your folds. The vibrations send shocks through you, leaving your toes curling in your socks. He pulls your legs up by your upper thighs, and then your legs are on his shoulders while he eats you out, fully pliant against his bed for him. You moan in response, pushing your hips up to his face. His hands are gentle as they hold your hips in place, his tongue exploring every inch of you. You feel yourself getting closer and closer to coming apart in his mouth, and Jisung's movements become more urgent.
He pulls away all of a sudden, but he’s quick to slide two slender digits inside of you, curling them up towards a spot you never even knew you had. “Do you think you’ll cum for me, baby? Please? For me?”
“Yes,” You whine, nodding. “Yes, yes, I will, suck my clit again, please-”
You’re cut off by your own wail when he takes your clit between his lips again, tongue tapping on the button underneath your clitoral hood. It’s much more sensitive like this, and combined with his fingers curling against that spot inside you… well, you’re done for. You cum with a shake and a high pitched, embarrassing moan, fingers digging into Jisung’s scalp almost painfully. He moans against your clit anyway, eyes looking impossibly darker while you come apart in his mouth, grinding your hips against his tongue.
He pulls his fingers out when you’ve finished, one hand settling on your hips to soothe you through the aftershocks. He sucks his slick fingers into his mouth, the bottom half of his face covered in your juices and leaving him looking a cool hue of shiny blue. 
“Mm, so sweet. I was right,” He looks like the cat who got the cream, and you groan, playfully kicking his shoulder. He blinks down at you and then he’s gasping, eyes fixated on something below your pussy. “I didn’t eat your ass! I didn’t even prep it. Okay, you can only take one dick today or-”
You grab him by the wrists, yanking him over you. He squeals in shock before he’s sighing at the feeling of his cockhead running through your pussy lips. He’s so easily distracted. It’s cute. “Push it in. I don’t care, you said they’re lubed. I want both of them.”
Jisung gasps, shaking his head. “It’ll hurt. Baby, it’ll hurt you, and I never wanna hurt you.”
“Put them both in, Jisung, or I’m not giving you anything,” You demand, and then you’re pulling your legs up to your chest. The position has both slick cockheads pressing at your holes, and he whimpers before he’s nodding impatiently. You watch as he rips his t-shirt off of his upper body by the back collar, throwing it aside. His shoulders are broad, seamlessly transitioning into a tiny, slender waist and toned biceps. He positions your knees on his shoulders, seemingly ignoring your ogling at his body. Oh. It’ll be deep like this. Almost like he’s trying to-
“I wanna breed you like this,” Jisung whimpers, using one hand to position his first cock at your pussy. “Can I? Please, baby, please. Lemme breed you, let me, please, I’ve been good makin’ you cum, and-”
“Breed me,” You sigh, eyes almost rolling back into your head. He nods, and then his cock is pushing inside you, raw and unprotected. The first shaft is veiny, thick against your already fluttering walls. Before you have a chance to adjust, his second cock breaches against your asshole. The slide is lubed like he said it would be, but the stretch still makes you suck in a sharp breath of air. You can’t deny it feels fucking amazing. 
“Baby. Oh, my baby, my baby,” He’s babbling, hips rocking steadily against yours. It is deep like this, with your knees pushed up on his shoulders, and it looks like you’re not the only one that’s finding it hard to handle. “You’re so tight, fuckin’- shit, shit, baby, can I move? Can I fuck you properly, please, I’m gonna fucking blow.”
“Do all aliens have such dirty mouths?” You giggle, fingers digging into the sheets. Jisung huffs, antennas drooping with embarrassment. He’s trying so hard to stop moving his hips, trying to wait for the green light, and you feel bad for him. “Fuck me baby, c’mon. Be a good boy.”
Jisung gasps, nodding, and then he’s fucking you. He’s fucking into you like a rabbit, hips slamming against your ass with every thrust. You’re not faring any better. He’s so good at this, so good at using his hips to please you, and you can’t handle the sensation of being full like this. You aren’t sure you’ll ever be able to fuck anyone else again, man or woman. 
His cocks are both thick inside you, and you feel so stretched. The lubed appendages ensure that the spaceship is now being filled with wet, slick noises upon every thrust, and Jisung’s whining against your neck, his head dropping into the crook of your skin. 
“‘S so good, so good,” Jisung’s voice is high pitched, and you coo, your own breath shaky when you run your fingers over his antennas again. You feel his cocks twitch inside you at the sensation, against the deepest spots inside of you. “I don’t think I’m gonna last, I w’na cum inside so bad, please, baby, please.”
You whine, canting your hips up into his. “I’m not gonna last long, Sungie, just a bit more. I promise, baby, just a bit more, can you hang on for me?”
Jisung nods, his eyes fluttering shut as his hips move mindlessly. His hips are pressing against yours with each thrust, and you can feel every inch of his hard erections inside of you. You moan in pleasure as he continues to move in and out of you, his pace increasing with each thrust. 
“Baby, baby, please. Cum for me, cum for your baby boy, please,” His breathing is ragged and you feel yourself getting closer and closer to coming apart for him for the second time, no doubt about to soak his cocks thoroughly. You both gasp and moan in unison, your hands gripping Jisung’s biceps and your ass pushing back against his hips. You feel like you're about to fall apart, and Jisung is loving every moment of it, judging by the blissed out grin on his face. 
The pleasure is overwhelming and you feel yourself reaching your second orgasm, toes curling in your socks. You cum with a full body quiver, pussy clenching impossibly tighter around his cocks and then Jisung wails, his head dropping closer to you and nipping at your skin.
“G’na- gonna cum, I’m cumming, I’m cumming,” He’s babbling, letting out tiny little ‘ah’s with every thrust and making you gasp at the overstimulation. After half a dozen more movements, his hips finally still, and then he’s filling you up. The amount of his cum shocks you, oozing and gushing out of both of your tight holes and staining his pristine white sheets. It spills out around his cocks, and he looks down at your core, groaning at the sight. He pulls out just to slap his cockhead on your clit once, smearing the cum around, and then he collapses by your side. 
You let him pull you into his chest, his lips kissing your hairline chastely. Your own hand moves to run your fingernails down his chest. “That was so good. You are fuckin’ amazing, so pretty.”
“What now?” You huff, head pressed against his pecs. You’re entranced by drawing shapes on his skin, the way the hearts you draw turn white before they fade away. 
“Well, forgive me if I’m being too forward, but… how would you like to come home with me?”
You gasp, leaning up to look at him. He’s biting his lip nervously. “Jisung, this spaceship works?!”
Jisung scoffs. “Yeah! I haven’t just been working on it for nothing, baby. It’s fully functional.”
“You’re kidding me,” You giggle, slapping his chest playfully. “What are you waiting for? Let’s go!”
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wc: 3.9k
sw: alien jisung who has two cocks, cum, breeding kink, oral (f!rec), unprotected sex, anal, double penetration, sub jisung maybe
a/n: ITS HEREEEE I HOPE UR ALL SURPRISED N GO CRAZY AND ALSO INSANE <3 - juno
443 notes · View notes
dilemmaontwolegs · 6 months
Text
We’ve Got Tonight || LN4
Pairing: Lando Norris x singer!reader Summary: When you catch your boyfriend cheating you get your sweet revenge and a handsome stranger who steps in to protect you. Warnings: being cheated on, angst, injury
Songs: Shania Twain - Man! I feel like a woman Garth Brooks - Friends in low places Carrie Underwood - Before he cheats Kenny Rogers & Sheena Easton - We’ve got tonight
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Lando couldn’t believe he had let Daniel drag him out to the Texan bar. It was completely polar opposite to anything he was used to, but Danny fit right in with his Stetson hat and cowboy boots. 
Lando winced into his glass as the latest woman to take the corner stage butchered a Shania Twain song but it didn’t seem to bother his drinking buddy as he left to join the rows of people line dancing. Lando was grateful when the song came to an end but it was short lived as he heard a familiar Australian accent on the mic talking the band into playing Friends in Low Places. Spinning around on his stool at the bar, the McLaren driver found his old teammate on the small stage grinning like a fool as the music started. 
Lando watched the older driver and envied the confidence he had to sing terribly to a bar full of strangers. It didn’t matter if he couldn’t hold a note or match the key - Daniel had presence and was always entertaining. The song was almost over when a change of light caught Lando’s eye and he swivelled back to see the saloon doors swing shut behind you. 
Lando nearly fell off his chair. The sight of your smile was dazzling and he swore the colours in the room were brighter because of it. He hardly remembered to breathe as you cast your eyes around the bar, searching for something he suddenly hoped he had. Disappointment landed heavy on his chest as your pretty eyes settled on the pool tables and he wondered which one of the handsome men was lucky enough to have you. 
He started to turn away and wash the bitter taste of jealousy from his mouth with his drink when he saw the smile dim. It was like a cloud had come and blocked the sun, shadows curving your lips down until they pressed to a hard line and your eyes narrowed on a man. Lando swallowed at the change thinking you was even more beautiful, like lightning in a thunderstorm. Beautiful, dangerous, deadly.
Then you were gone, the tassels on your boots swaying quickly as you disappeared out the door as quickly as you came. 
“Whatcha looking for?” Daniel asked as he dropped back into his seat. Lando hadn’t even noticed the song had ended while he watched the empty space in the doorway, another singer taking the stage. 
“N-nothing,” he stammered quickly as he turned back to the bar and raised his glass to his dry lips. 
“Whatever you say, mate,” Daniel chuckled as he clapped Lando on the back. “She was hot though, right?” 
Lando coughed and sputtered on his drink as Daniel laughed knowingly. “Don’t you have a girlfriend?”
“Yeah, but I’m not blind. And since you’re single, you should get off your ass and lasso yourself a lady friend. You know what they say: save a horse, ride a cowgir-” Lando clamped a hand over Daniel’s mouth as his cheeks turned pink. 
“You can’t say that, dude! You are totally going to get cancelled one day.”
Daniel shrugged and sent him a lopsided grin as he looked over Lando’s shoulder. “Looks like it’s  your lucky day.”
White hot rage left your hands shaking as you dropped the baseball bat and walked away, the metal clanking loudly on the asphalt of the parking lot. You didn’t even notice the trickle of blood running down your fingertips from cutting your palm with Damon’s hunting knife when you slashed the tyres of his Ford Raptor. You couldn’t feel anything except the burning need for revenge.
All the joy you had felt on the drive to the bar had been forgotten. The phone call with the news seemed like a lifetime ago and you hated him all the more for ruining what should have been the best day of your life so far.
After years of hard work you were finally catching a break and had been signed to Big Loud and would soon be recording your own country music. You had been so excited you had left work early and driven across town to surprise Damon. What a surprise he would get.
You looked ahead at the bar you had left, still seeing the way he curled himself around her, the pretense of pretending to teach her how to play pool - the same trick he had used to get close to you the night you met. Rotten bastard. It made you question the last two years together and how many other women he pulled the same moves on. You were going to teach him a lesson, and maybe save her from the same fate.
You swaggered into the bar and felt eyes on you, but the only pair that didn’t turn were his. Damon was too enraptured by the woman dancing against him, a dainty cocktail spilling over her glass. 
“Mind if I butt in next, Jimmy?” you asked the old man who loved to sing a bit of Kenny Rogers after a few drafts of beer. 
“Not at all, pumpkin, been a while since you joined us.” The song was just finishing and Jimmy jutted his chin at Damon as he poured two shots of whiskey, offering one to you. “Say, ain’t that your old man?”
“Not any more.” You downed the shot and inhaled the burn before taking the stage and telling the band what to play. 
Lando stepped off his stool as the song started and his feet carried him closer to the stage with Daniel right at his side, not that he noticed. You hadn’t even parted your lips but he knew, somehow he just knew, you would sound perfect. The song was one he recognised, maybe from a movie or just on the radio, but it hit differently when he saw your eyes boring holes into the couple still dancing together by the pool tables. 
Right now, he's probably slow dancin' with a bleach-blonde tramp and she's probably gettin' frisky. Right now, he's probably buyin' her some fruity little drink 'cause she can't shoot whiskey. Right now, he's probably up behind her with a pool stick showin' her how to shoot a combo. And he don't know…
Lando couldn’t breathe as he watched the realisation dawn on the stranger who looked up from the blonde woman he had been grinding on. The man’s jaw went slack and he half shoved the woman from his lap as he straightened up, a small shake of his head when he met the eyes on the stage. He could almost hear the whispered ‘oh no’ fall from his lips and he felt a smug satisfaction on your behalf. 
I dug my key into the side of his pretty little souped-up four-wheel drive. Carved my name into his leather seats. I took a Louisville slugger to both headlights. Slashed a hole in all four tires. Maybe next time, he'll think before he cheats.
Your smile was dark and you watched Damon blanch at the sight, only making you feel even better for what you had done.
I might've saved a little trouble for the next girl, 'cause the next time that he cheats, Oh, you know it won't be on me. No, not on me.
“No, no, baby, no,” Damon whined as he tugged the short strands of his hair and rushed out of the bar, leaving his date in a state of confusion until her brain caught up and her hands shot to cover her mouth in shock. 
“Yeah, he played us both, honey,” you said as you shoved the mic back in the stand and crossed your arms as the doors burst open.
“You crazy bitch!” Damon tried to rush the stage only to find himself shoved back by a handsome stranger who was apparently a lot stronger than he looked. “Get the fuck out of my way!”
“Not gonna happen, mate,” he said with a chuckle, his British accent sweet on the ears. “I think you’ve done enough, don’t you?”
“She ruined my fucking truck! Do you know how much that cost?”
You scoffed and stepped up behind the stranger, feeling bolder as you saw his arms flex ready to protect you. “Too much, but I guess you had to overcompensate for something small,” you said as your eyes darted to his trousers and the taller companion barely contained his laugh.
“Oh, I like this one, Lando. She’s got fire.”
“Just give me my house key and leave, it’s over.” You held out your palm waiting until he fisted his keys from his pocket and cursed your name as he pulled it off the keyring. 
“Where the fuck am I meant to live?”
You looked over at the woman and asked, “Do you want to take him home, honey?” She shook her head now that she knew he was a no good cheater and your smile widened as you turned back to Damon. “You’ll be nice and cozy in your pickup.”
He stepped forward but Lando’s friend joined him shoulder to shoulder and Damon quickly realised he was not going to win whatever went down. With his tail between his legs, he turned and grumbled his way out the door before the band started up and Jimmy kicked off with We’ve Got Tonight. 
“I don’t know how to thank you,” you said as the two strangers finally deemed it safe to turn their backs on the door and face you. A pair of stormy blue eyes met yours and you blinked twice before you managed to look away, scanning a quick glance over the messy styled curls on his head to the slim black t-shirt that fitted perfectly. Your lips dried as you realised you were staring and he cleared his throat when he caught himself doing the same. 
“Can I buy you a drink?”
You bit your lip at the offer and tipped your head to the side. “I think I should be the one buying you a drink, your friend too. It’s the least I can do.”
“Daniel,” the taller man said with a grin and held his hand out to shake.
“Y/N.”
“Enchanté.”
“Uh, bless you.”
Lando laughed and the sound brought a smile to your face. “I know how you can thank me,” he said as he nodded to Jimmy who was grabbing a second microphone and pointing it your way. “I’m fairly sure this song is a duet. Know it?”
You smirked as you stepped back and gave him a wink before taking the stage, his eyes never leaving yours and you sang just for him.
We've got tonight, Who needs tomorrow? Let's make it last, Let's find a way Turn out the light, Come take my hand now We've got tonight, babe, Why don't we stay?
His nod was almost imperceptible and you weren’t sure if you imagined it as you let the question hang in the air while the music faded out. In two long, self-certain steps, he closed the distance and offered his hand to help you down the steps and you grinned at the warmth of his palm as he laced your fingers with his.
Suddenly he froze and looked down, concern etching his features as he pulled his hand back and found it stained red. “Fuck, you’re hurt.”
You blinked at the cut on your palm, only noticing the ache after your attention was drawn to it. “Huh, guess that’s what I get for slashing his tyres,” you murmured with a weak laugh.
“He deserved more than that,” Lando growled as he led you to the bar and asked for a first aid kit. “But he definitely didn’t deserve you.”
“You don’t know me, I could be a terrible person.” You winced as he cleaned the cut before pressing a bandage to stem the bleeding.
“I’m a pretty good judge of character, Y/N.” He pinned the bandage into place before lifting your hand to his lips and kissing the top softly. “I knew it from your smile when you arrived, and everything after just proves you’re strong.”
Your chin dipped as you felt your face flush and you couldn’t remember the last time someone was so sweet. “You really know how to make a girl feel special. So how long are you in town for?”
His lips turned down slightly as he sighed and reluctantly admitted. “We fly back to London tomorrow.”
You felt the same disappointment but chased it away and squeezed his hand that still held yours, your eyes meeting with the same idea flitting past. “We’ve got tonight?”
His smile returned and grew until his eyes wrinkled with how wide it was, brightening up his whole face and sparking yours to match. “Yeah, we’ve got tonight.”
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arthurmorgansballsack · 5 months
Text
Helping Hand - Simon “Ghost” Riley x Male Reader
Warnings: Porn with little plot, head (Ghost receiving), riding, bottom army doctor Reader, Top Ghost, use of Y/N.
MINORS AND FEM ALIGNED DNI
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Y/N was busy focusing on an injured solider, his concentration was broken when Ghost walked in. “Could you please help me?” He asked. “I’m busy, go find someone else.” Y/N brushes him off and goes back to tending to the solider, who’s know a bit startled. “I need you to tend to me, no one else.” Ghost pleads. “Fine.” He turns to the solider, “I’m sorry, but someone else will come to attend to you.” Y/N gets up and drags Ghost to another room. “So, what’s the matter that’s so important?” He asks and Ghost sits on the bed. Y/N examines him, noticing a minor knife slash on his arm. "I got cut on a mission.” Ghost mutters, avoiding eye contact with you. Y/N starts to clean up his wound and patches it up. “You’re lucky it’s not too serious. But next time only interrupt me when i’m workingif you are bleeding out.”
Y/N gets up to leave, but Ghost suddenly leans in close to him, his hot breath tickling his ear. "I need you to do something for me.” He whispers, his voice low and husky. "My cock... It's been in need of some attention for days now. I need you to suck it or fuck it, I don't care which." Y/N’s eyes widen in response and he sits back down. “I think I can give you a helping hand.” Y/N chuckled as he unzipped Ghost’s fly, his cock sprang out, already dripping in precum. “So eager. Is this what you want, hmm?” He gently strokes it. “Yes.. More than anything.” Y/N strokes his cock, and it gets harder with his touch. “Let’s have a taste, shall we?” Ghost nods in response.
Y/N takes his cock in his mouth. Ghost's eyes flutter shut. Y/N’s tongue swirls around the head before moving down to the base. His hips begin to buck, and he grips onto Y/N’s locks. Y/N looks up at him, giving him a cheeky look. Then continuing to suck his cock deeper until he finally reaches his peak, his hot cum exploding into Y/N’s mouth. He swallows every last drop, savoring the taste. Ghost looks down at him, a look of love peaking through his mask. “I need you so much.” He says, his voice more soft than usual. “How about we continue this?” He stands up. “Yes. I want you, Y/N.” Y/N chuckles in response and pushes Ghost down onto the bed. He slides off his pants and sits on top of his thighs, revealing his hard and throbbing cock. Ghost's eyes widen in surprise, but he doesn't hesitate to take it in his gloved hand, stroking it gently. As Y/N leans in, lift up his mask and kisses him.
Ghost slowly begins to push his cock inside of him and Y/N arches his back in response. Ghost grips onto Y/N’s hips tightly, “You already feel so good, and we haven’t even started yet.” Ghost chuckles as he thrusts into Y/N. “Oh fuck!” He lets out a moan. “Shh, be quiet. I don’t want you to get in trouble, doctor.” Ghost puts a couple of his fingers into Y/N’s mouth to keep him quiet. He chuckles as he looks at Y/N’s face, a cute annoyed look but it’s quickly changed when he thrusts deep into him again. “Thank you for helping me, I already feel way better.” He said as he took his fingers out of Y/N’s mouth. “Shut up and fuck me..!” Y/N’s words surprised the lieutenant. “Well if you say so.” He chuckled as he pounded into him. “You’re welcome by the way.” Y/N gripped onto Ghost’s shoulders and kissed him.
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bomber-grl · 5 months
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Date night
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10:00 P.M
You run as fast as you can, leaping off buildings and almost slipping on the fast falling snow. You know you can’t keep this up forever, and you know, one wrong move, and it’s game over.
Robin is quick on your heels and with the cold, almost burning air that hits across your face and how difficult it is to breathe in, you’re sure you’ll get caught in no time.
Finally you stop and slide across one of the rooftops of what you can only assume is an apartment building.
“Hey Robin, I know we’re like arch enemies or whatever but I’m running a little late to my date so how about we make this quick?”
Robin usually loves to be your complete opposite, however to your surprise he says “I agree” and goes to kick you. If it weren’t for your quick reaction time by using your fore arms to shield yourself you know you would’ve been toast, still it might leave a bruise.
“What’s with the sudden compliance? Don’t tell me you’re already falling for my charms? You ask this feigning surprise.
“Don’t kid yourself, if anything your best feature is your fighting. He goes to use his spear but you counter with your own.
“Oh? So you admit I’m good?” You can see the disgust spread across his face and you take this opportunity to slash him across the face with your dagger, only that you barely managed to knick him in the chin.
He staggers back but is quick to recover, he pushes against you and pins you down. “I honestly can’t help but wonder why you care much, it’s almost like you’re falling for me.”
With your current position with your back against the wall and how you’re pinned up by him, you can’t pass the opportunity. “You’re right Robin, I think I really am falling for you.”
he lets you go with disgust blatant on his face but when you smirk he realizes this was all a ploy. With the golden opportunity to escape you take a swan dive off the building, the only imagine is of him peaking over the ledge watching you plummet into the darkness of the cold dark night.
-
11:30 P.M
You practically barge into the small cozy diners front doors, the atmosphere very much contrasting that of the windy coldness outside. You quickly spot Damian and make your way over to him where’s he’s seated, setting your things down and taking a seat, still panting.
“Finally, I was starting to think you wouldn’t make it, that not really a good impression to make, especially on the first date [l/n]” he teases.
You initially met Damian while at Gotham academy and while he wasn’t what you’d describe as a ray of sunshine, he was still amazing. He always seemed like an untouchable guy and you were so late to a once in a life time date that others would kill for, all because of that Robin!
“I know I know, I’m so sorry Damian!!” You take a seat, fixing your disheveled clothes and patting down your hair. “What’s with you? You seem like you got hit with a tornado or something?” He smiles.
“Sorry!! I uhh fell asleep while reading a book so I was rushing!” You give an embarrassed laugh. “I’m just teasing, I barely got here myself.”
“What???” You ask pouting. “Sorry sorry, I was just busy with useless rich people things, as you like to put it.” He says this obviously referring to that once time where you told him rich people don’t do anything.
“Hey! No fair!” Before the two of you could continue your discussion a waitress came up to your table and began taking your orders.
After the waitress left, you started feeling the diners warmth was a little too warm, especially with your large jacket. You took off your jacket and set it aside, rolling up your long sleeve shirt.
You were about to tell Damian something random that came to mind before you noticed something. On Damian’s chin there was a faint scratch, almost like the one you gave Robi-
No no no, no way, there’s just no way Damian could be robin. Damian is incredible, he’s so nice to be around, and gosh is he hot.
Not that Robin isn’t
What the hell were you thinking-
You suddenly feel Damian’s fingers glide across your fore arm. “What happened?” He asks as he looks up at you expectantly.
“Huh?” You look down and low and behold the bruise that Robin gave you with his kick. Damn you knew it was gonna bruise.
“Oh, it’s nothing, I just fell and landed on my fore arms.” You add a couple nervous laughs and hope Damian doesn’t notice.
Soon enough your orders are served but slowly but surely more signs are showing that Damian is Robin. Soon enough it gets late and that’s when you decided to make your move.
“Look ro-Damian, I really need to get going so-“ and with that you practically bolt to the door, however as your hand lands on the handle you feel a hand rest on your shoulder.
You slowly turn around, however before you can react you hear one sentence that makes you feel chills run down your spine.
“Are you [v/n]?”
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Part 2?
V/n: villian name, l/n: last name
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atlabeth · 10 months
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you’re beautiful — anthony lockwood
summary: a meeting goes wrong, feelings come out. you’d like to be sedated again, please.
a/n: so this started as part of “leave the door open” but then i decided i wanted something different (hence the wound dressing scene) but i really liked what i wrote there so here’s an entirely different fic! wow enjoy
wc: 2.5k
warning(s): reader gets stabbed, quite a bit of blood, couple death jokes, mention of not eating, hurt/comfort, fluffy ending tho
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There was a saying in Lockwood & Company, courtesy of its namesake, that, if you had enough confidence, you could dazzle any ghost into submission. 
Nothing but facetiousness of course, but it was true in a symbolic sort of way. If you didn’t believe in yourself, in every slash of your rapier and every circle of filings and every salt bomb measured to perfection, then there was no use showing up at all. You might as well sit down and wait for the ghost-lock to set in. 
Lockwood’s words kept coming back to you every time you doubted yourself, his charming smile and eyes popping up in your mind, twinkling as he made you laugh. 
And those words were certainly echoing through your ears as you stumbled through Portland Row’s door, a hand still pressed to your abdomen when you collapsed. Your rapier, still holstered, clattered against the floor.  
George called your name from the kitchen, cheerfully oblivious to your joy. “You’re finally back! How did the meeting go?” 
When you could only groan in response, he emerged into the hallway and his eyes instantly widened. “Oh my god— Lockwood!” 
He rushed over and helped you up, propping you against the wall as his eyes darted all over. He took one hand away to push up his glasses, and you noticed he already had some blood on your fingers. “What in the world happened?” 
“The meeting didn’t go well,” you grit out, sucking in a breath as a sharp column of pain shot through you. 
“I could gather that,” George said wryly, and when you heard footsteps, you both looked up to see Lockwood taking the steps three at a time. 
“What in the world happened?” he asked brazenly, a wild look in his eyes. 
“That’s what I asked—” George said, and your breathy laugh was interrupted by a grimace. 
“The meeting didn’t go well,” you repeated. 
“I need actual details,” Lockwood called as he went off in search of the medical kit. 
“Everything was fine,” you grumbled. “But as it turns out, our lovely source Mr. Pallworth was more skilled in getting into trouble than actually being an informant. He was in debt to some even lovelier relic men.” 
“Oh, god,” George muttered. You winced as he put more pressure on your wound, having taken over for you. “I’m sorry, but this is so you don’t bleed out.” 
“Did you get into a fight or something?” Lockwood marveled, bounding back over with a white box in his hands. “Because it looks like you were stabbed.” 
“One point for Anthony,” you said groggily. “Mr. Pallworth ran off the moment he could, leaving me to deal with his mess. I was indeed stabbed. Only once, somehow. The relic men deserted when the police showed up, and I wasn’t far behind.”
Lockwood knelt down next to you, and he looked at you for permission. You nodded, and he pulled your shirt up to expose your wound. He did a good job hiding his grimace as he began to gently wipe away the blood, but it was still there. “Why did you come here and not immediately to the hospital?” 
“I don’t know if you remember, Lockwood,” you breathed, “but this job that we’re doing is not exactly legal.” 
“I don’t care,” he enunciated. “This is above our paygrade, and your life will not be on the line because of our lack of medical knowledge.” 
“We either have to help her here or get her to a hospital,” George said, “because if we sit here bickering, she’ll bleed out before we make a decision.” 
“I’d rather die here than a hospital,” you said.
“You’re not going to die here,” Lockwood said harshly, and his hands opened and closed into fists. You could almost see the gears turning in his head. He eventually let out an annoyed sigh and glanced at George. 
“Phone 999,” he said. “She’s not dying because of her stubbornness.”
George nodded, grimacing at the blood on his hands—your blood, you supposed, which made it worse—and he ran off. 
“I knew I shouldn’t have sent you there alone,” Lockwood grumbled as he started taking things out of the medical kit. 
“No, you didn’t,” you said. “We had no reason to believe anything like this would happen.”
“Well— I should have known!” Lockwood’s voice rose, and his jaw clenched as he got himself back under control. He continued to clean out your wound, and you could hear George rattling off information in the distance to the authorities. 
“You’re cute when you’re determined,” you said. 
“I am determined to not let you die in our foyer,” Lockwood said.
“The foyer.” You mimicked Lockwood’s voice. “So posh.”
“If she’s being this annoying, she can’t be doing too bad,” George said dryly. 
“Loopy from the blood loss,” you said offhandedly. You frowned as it sunk in. “Maybe I should go to a hospital.”
Lockwood heaved a very dramatic sigh as he continued to keep pressure on your wound. “At least you’re coming to your senses now,” he said dryly. He was still kneeling next to you, his hands covered in your blood, that wild look in his eye. “What the hell took so long?”
“I’m not…” you blinked the black spots out of your vision, “good with hospitals.”
“Well, I’m not good with you dying,” Lockwood said.
George came back over. “I’ve called the police—an ambulance is on the way.”
You groaned, half from the pain and half from the thought of the police. “We’re going to have so much explaining to do.”
“Leave that to us,” Lockwood said. For some reason, you found yourself grabbing his hand. He didn’t hesitate, his throat bobbing as he laced your fingers together. “Just hold on for a bit longer.”
You nodded, your mouth going dry for a moment when you looked at him— really looked at him. 
There was unbridled fear in Lockwood’s eyes, the slightest glimmer of tears. If you weren’t slowly bleeding out, if the black spots weren’t taking over your vision, if your grip on his hand wasn’t loosening, you might have been embarrassed at his closeness, at his doting.  
But apparently, you weren’t. 
“You’re beautiful,” you murmured. 
And then everything went dark.
-
You were assaulted by a barrage of lights and beeping, too-bright fluorescents and the sterile scent of disinfectant alerting even your still groggy mind that you were in a hospital.
There was something in your arm—multiple somethings, actually. A tube with a lot of red in one arm, and another with clear liquid in your other arm. Blood and an IV, you guessed. 
Right. You were stabbed, and one does not just walk away from a stab wound without a few problems. 
You weren’t dead, though, and that surely counted for something. You would have to thank Lockwood later, for his stubbornness beating out your own. 
“You’re awake,” a voice breathed, and you realized it was just the boy you were thinking about. 
Lockwood sat next to you in a chair pulled up at your bedside. His tie was undone, hanging around his neck, and he’d draped his jacket on the back of the chair. His eyes were slightly red, but there was undeniable relief sketched into his face. 
“I am.” Your voice was raspy from disuse, and you grimaced at the soreness in your lower chest. “How long has it been?” 
“A few hours,” he answered. He cleared his throat and moved to the edge of his chair, and your eyes followed the movement. He was holding your hand— he’d been holding your hand. “You— um, you had surgery. A small one, it didn’t take too long, but—” Lockwood’s voice broke, and he laughed mirthlessly as he shook his head. “It was scary. Terrifying, actually, but…” he managed a smile. “You came out the other side. You always do.” 
Your breath caught for a moment, and your grip on his hand tightened subconsciously. “I’m so sorry.” 
“What are you sorry for?” Lockwood asked wryly. “It’s not your fault you were stabbed. You did a rather excellent job fighting them off, actually. It could’ve been much worse.” 
“I’m sorry for putting you and George through this,” you murmured. “I worry about the two of you every second of every day, and most of the time it doesn’t come to fruition. This—” you laughed, which immediately turned into a wince— “I’d say this is fruition.” 
“I’m just glad we got you here in time,” Lockwood muttered. He looked at you, his eyes boring into you with equal parts concern and desperation. You used to hate that about him, especially when you joined, how it always felt like he could look at you and know every single thing. “You said the police showed up in the fight. You were obviously injured— why didn’t you get them to call an ambulance? Why did you risk it all to come back to Portland Row?” 
“I told you. The job we took on was illegal, and I felt it was going to be a much bigger mess than we needed to deal with.” 
“I don’t care how illegal it was,” Lockwood said stiffly. “You were hurt— you were in danger. That comes before anything else, alright? You come before anything else.” 
The intensity of his voice made you pause, unable to do anything but… look at him. His hair was tousled, no doubt from running his hand through it endlessly as he was wont to do whenever he was stressed. His undone tie and discarded jacket, his eyes, red from… from crying, most likely. He cried over you. 
When your hand tightened around his this time, you did it on purpose. 
“Thank you,” you murmured. “You’re probably the reason I’m alive.” 
Lockwood managed to crack a smile. “It wouldn’t look good for the agency if my employees started dying. I don’t have very many to lose.” 
That got a genuine laugh out of you, and you tried your best to ignore the subsequent wince. “Of course. That’s why I pulled through, to make us look better.” 
“Your efforts are much appreciated,” he said, that small smile still on his lips as he rubbed mindless circles on your hand with his thumb. 
The door creaked slightly as someone pushed it open, and a smile broke out on your face when you saw it was George. 
“I was wondering where you were,” you said. 
“Tea,” he said, lifting the drink holder with one hand and a box with his other, “and donuts.” He looked at Lockwood pointedly. “You’ve got to get something in you. It’s not exactly healthy, but the sugar will help.” 
You looked at Lockwood. “You haven’t eaten?” 
“I was preoccupied,” he said dryly. 
“That’s no excuse,” you said. “Eat your donuts, and as soon as we get home, George is cooking you something.” You looked up at him. “Right?” 
“Right,” George agreed. He handed Lockwood one of the cups and set the box on the table, and he smiled as he took a seat across from you. “You look much better. You’re bossing everyone around again—I take it you’re doing better too?” 
“Much,” you nodded. “Thanks for getting me here, by the way. I’d probably have bled out if it weren’t for you.” 
“Of course.” George took a donut from the box. “I can’t let you leave me alone with him.” 
“Oh, I would never,” you said wryly. 
“I’m surprised you’re willing to be alone with him after what you said,” George said offhandedly, and both you and Lockwood stared at him. 
“George—” he started. 
“What do you mean?” you interrupted. 
He made that funny little expression where he knew he said something he probably shouldn’t have, and he busied himself with his donut. “Nothing.” 
“George,” you deadpanned, “I’m the one in the hospital bed. I have pity points. Tell me.” 
Lockwood sighed and leaned back in his chair, though you noticed he still didn’t let go of your hand. 
“I’m guessing you don’t remember what you said,” George said slowly. “Before you blacked out, I mean.” 
“No.” Your eyes darted between the two of them. “Why? Did I say something awful?” 
“Not awful,” Lockwood said, still looking away. “Pretty far from it, I’d say.” 
“Why are you two acting so weird?” you asked. “Spit it out!” 
“You called Lockwood beautiful,” George finally said, and you just about died right there. “Right before you went out, you said he was beautiful.” 
You blinked. Looked at Lockwood, who didn’t seem to be the slightest bit embarrassed—god, was he smiling?—looked at George, who was this time busying himself with his tea. 
“You’re kidding,” you said. 
“...He’s not,” Lockwood said, tilting his head to the side. “You did do that.” 
“Looked up at him, said ‘you’re beautiful’, passed out.” George shrugged as he took another sip of his tea. “Quite dramatic, I’ll give you that. It drove Lockwood absolutely insane, too.” 
“George,” Lockwood said sharply, “don’t you have a phone call to make?” 
He chuckled. “Yeah. How could I forget?”
You weren’t even able to watch him as he walked out of the room, leaving you alone with Lockwood. You wanted to melt into the bed. This was the absolute worst way for your feelings to come out, feelings that you were content to let sit forever and never really reveal. Apparently, you couldn’t even almost die with dignity. 
“It’s alright,” Lockwood said. “You don’t have to be embarrassed.” 
“No, I do have to be embarrassed.” You stared up at the ceiling. “I do have to be embarrassed, because my last words could have been ‘you’re beautiful’.”
“Why?” he asked. “Do you not think I’m beautiful?” 
You groaned, and if you hadn’t been practically immobile, you would have buried your face in the pillows. “Get a nurse to sedate me again, please.” 
Lockwood flashed that irritatingly pretty grin as he took your hand again. You hadn’t even realized he’d let go. “Relax. I think you’re beautiful too.” 
You raised your eyebrows. “Even now?”
“Even now,” Lockwood said. “Always.”
“At least you’re not saying it half-conscious and dying,” you mumbled. 
“I think it’s better I’m saying it now,” he said. “You know I mean it.” 
You looked him in the eye. “You really do?” 
“What did I just say?” Lockwood chuckled. “Always. Forever.” 
You felt the heat creep to your cheeks. “I can’t believe this is what it took to get you to admit your feelings.” 
“It took this for you to admit your feelings,” he countered. “It took you admitting them for me to admit them. I never really knew you felt the same way.” 
“I guess I have a flair for dramatics,” you said wryly. 
“It seems so,” Lockwood said. “How about after all this is done, when you’re good and cleared by the doctor, I’ll take you out for tea. My treat.”  
“You pay my salary,” you said. “Everything is practically your treat.” 
Lockwood grinned. “Do you want to go on a date with me or not?” 
You smiled, and you pulled your joined hands closer. You pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “I’d like that a lot.” 
“Excellent.” He smiled as well, a breath of relief coming out of him, and he leaned closer. “Just remember that you don’t have to get stabbed to get me to ask you out on a second date.”  
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Scars
Astarion x Y/N - drabble - 1.3K WC
Masterlist
Warnings: mention of smut but nothing too vivid, Tav history but nothing horrible, kinda funny in some ways, really enjoyed writing this one and if you don't like it - I hate to tell you but you are wrong (I don't make the rules here sorry (I def do make the rules)), I'm so sleep deprived lord help me
-------------------------
You laid across from Astarion, enjoying each other's company as the early morning rays of golden sunshine cascaded into the tent. It was the first night you had slept together of Astarion’s own volition. After defeating Cazador, he decided to try living again and he wanted to indulge in every way possible, including indulging in you. It was sweet, gentle, thoughtful lovemaking. Ensuring you were both comfortable and consenting was at the forefront of both your minds. You laid on your combined bedrolls nude, your lower halves covered by a thin blanket. Astarion traced over your face deftly, his fingers subconsciously tracing over the scars that crossed your eye, cheek, and lips. 
“How did you get these?” he asked suddenly.
Your eyes opened completely, waking from their sleepy haze to find his.
“Forgive me, that was rude… you don’t have to tell me.” he said, shaking his head. 
You smiled at him, kissing him briefly. “I’m just as old as you, I have quite a few scars if you’d like to hear the many tales.” you smirked.
He let out a relieved sigh, worried he had offended you somehow. He nodded at your question, finding the raised blemishes to be quite beautiful against your skin. 
“These,” you said gently moving his fingers across your eye and cheek, “are from a devil. My very short stint fighting in the Blood War gave me these.” 
“And this,” you said tracing over your lips, “from a dog. Bit me when I was 7.”
You moved his hand to trace over the large scar that spanned across your neck, “A near death fight with a Bhaal spawn. Nearly took my head off, thankfully I had quite the healer with me.”
Astarion grimaced at this scar. He couldn’t imagine that kind of pain. Being bitten by Cazador had felt like a shard of icy glass being plunged into his neck. Having your throat sliced open by someone as vicious as a Bhaal spawn, he could imagine the immense fear seeing all the blood seeping from you, your life slipping away slowly. He thanked any gods who were listening for the healer who saved you long ago.
“How old were you?” he whispered.
“For my neck?” you asked, “I was 80, my first time in Baldur’s Gate actually. Quite the welcome.” you chuckled. 
You carried on with your little tour of your body. “This one,” you said, tracing a very faint scar of three little dots on the top of your chest, “I gave to myself. Turns out forks are quite dangerous if you trip with them in your hand.” 
Astarion scoffed, a breathy laugh coming out after. As gifted of a fighter as you are, you are also the most accident prone individual he has ever met. 
“Lets see…” you continued moving his fingers to your upper ribs where a deep, jagged scar lay, “A worshiper of Loviatar “blessed” me with that one.”
“Blessed you?” he said, quirking an eyebrow with a hint of confusion in his eyes.
“Let's just say Loviatar worshipers enjoy all manner of things in the bedroom.” you blushed. “It was truly a blessing though, the knife they so graciously stabbed me with was infused with magic. Makes me harder to kill since I “embraced” Loviatar.” 
Astarion smiled at that one. He had noticed how slashing didn’t seem to have much effect on you in battle, now he knows why.
“This one,” you said, moving his hand to a scar that spanned from your belly button to your hip, “Particularly brutal - a Lolth sworn drow and a drider came after me while I was knocked down. Turns out spider legs are sharp as fuck. And the venom? Lord, I have yet to feel a sting quite like that again.” 
Astarion frowned, he always despised spiders. Now he has even more reason to dislike them.
“This,” you moved his hand to your upper right thigh, “Another self-inflicted accident. Swam in the Black Lake, which is forbidden and for good reason too. Giant eels leave quite the electric burn.” 
“Why were you in a forbidden lake?” he asked, thumbing over the patchy scar.
“Why not?” you winked at him with a smirk.
Gods he loved your rebellious spirit, quite matched his own. Trouble seemed to find you both all too easily and yet, you always managed to make fun out of it. 
“This,” you said as you dramatically slapped his hand to your ass cheek. He felt for a moment before feeling a raised “X” shape. “An arrow of Ilmater from a particularly pissed off dwarf.”
“And, pray tell, why was he pissed off?” he said with a smirk of his own. 
“I may or may not have been trying to steal a particular magical necklace.” you grinned.
Astarion hooked his finger under the golden chain around your neck that always had a slight ethereal glow to it. “I’m assuming you managed to steal said necklace?” he said before tugging on it to pull you into a kiss. 
You giggled when you pulled away as his lips followed yours, you pecked them again before continuing. “Yes. Well worth it though, it prevents me from being poisoned. It’s come in handy more than once.” 
You moved his hand to your knee but not before he gave your ass a final squeeze. You squealed as you leaned into him. He would never get tired of your toothy grin, it was like sunshine to him, he loved to bask in it. 
“This one,” you said as you moved his hand to feel over two parallel scars, “from a mermaid. She tried to drown me so I kicked her off, but not before her scales dug into me.” 
“Why was she trying to drown you?” he asked.
You gave him a sarcastic look, “Have you ever met a mermaid? They don’t need a reason, they do it for sport.” 
Astarion nodded, making a mental note to not venture too far into mermaid infested waters. 
“Kept the scales though! Worth a fortune since they make elixir of water breath.” you said jovially, finding the positive in said situation.
“Elixir of what?” Astarion asked, searching his mind for this unknown elixir. 
“Water breath; you can breathe underwater for quite some time once you drink it. Rather rare though, getting scales off a mermaid is a pretty deadly task.” you shrugged.
“Any more?” Astarion said, his eyes running over all the scars that littered your body. So many stories, so many emotions. 
“Just two…” you said as you raised your foot up so his hand could feel over the top of it. A “Z” shaped scar. “This one is from a Zhentarim, hence the “Z” shape. Got caught trying to break into one of their hideouts. Left me with a lovely little scar to remind me not to try again.” 
Astarion traced the shape, you jerked away at the ticklish feeling. 
“Finally,” you said moving his hand between your legs right where the plush of your thigh meets your groin, “this one is from the best lover I have ever had.” 
Astarion felt for a moment but couldn’t feel anything. He looked up at you confused, “There's no scar here?” he said, waiting for you to guide him to the proper spot.  
“Not yet. I suggest you get to it, fangs.” you smirked at him. 
Astarion gave you a wicked smile when your words clicked in his head, “I’d be honored to add to the collection…” he said as he trailed himself down your body, leaving feverish pecks and little nips as he descended before licking over your thigh and sinking his fangs in. 
You arched your back while you carded your fingers through his white curls. You never wanted to leave this bed, this tent, or him. And luckily, you didn’t have to, not now. Not ever. He would alway be yours, and you his.
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Naboo's Note:
Hello! :D I am so fucking tired but also very awake right now working this overnight. I fucking love this piece so I hope you all do too! Fun fact, the fork scar is an actual scar I have because I am, in fact, a clumsy bitch lol. This felt very fluffy to me and just generally made me feel better so I hope it was comforting to ya'll as well. Talk soon, thanks for everything!!!!!!!! TTYLXOXOXOXOXO!!!!!!!!!
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