#i HAVE to include the moon 💕 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

inkedtae · 9 months ago

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the underground ⇾ bgc. [M] | PART I

⎡ In a city fuelled by greed and ambition, secrets are a currency. Yet here you are, gambling yours away on a captivating smile.⎤

PART II ➡︎

⌁ pairing; boxer!chan x curvy!reader (f.)

⌁ genre; boxing au, s2l, angst, smut, 18+

⌁ word count; 14.4k

⌁ summary; You’re just a runner. So why the hell are you straddling the lap of an undefeated boxer, massaging his chest and whispering secrets you have no right knowing? Oh, yeah— ‘cause he’s hot.

⌁ warnings; dark themes: mentions and depictions of graphic gang activity, abduction, possession and distribution of drugs, addictions, use of deadly weapons, violence, blood, gore, and death threats, explicit sex: dom!chan, sub!reader, daddy kink, size kink, multiple orgasms, ruined orgasm, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, rough sex, voyeurism, exhibitionism, overstimulation, degradation, dirty talk, handjob, thigh riding, spanking, face slapping (m. receiving), rimming, fingering, edging, manhandling, gun play, anal play, cum play, spit play

⌁ 🎧 now playing... ✩

❥ prefer ao3? keep reading here

❥ i want to give special thanks to jen ( @anobodyslove ) for being so patient with me and reading this monster of a fic over! 💕 and @awrkives for the most amazing banner! 💗

❥ and happy birthday to my channie! here's to another year of unhinged love letters. 🐺🖤

❥ okay so i'm moving this fully to tumblr as well as it being available on ao3 HOWEVER the entire fic is over the character limit for tumblr post so this one-shot has been divided into two parts. both parts are uploaded.

!! the following story contains mature themes, including mentions and graphic depictions of racketeering, gang activity, weapons, drugs, violence, blood, gore, and death threats. please do not read nor interact if these themes cause you discomfort !!

Dusk is a medley of tangerine and indigo. Peachy rays of the sun shine between drifting clouds. A quartered shadow of the moon makes a premature appearance. You breathe in the early October air, eyes fluttering shut with the exhale. Clutching onto the balcony’s rickety railing, the rusted metal so cold on your bare hands, you fill your lungs again, taking deep, slow breaths.

The world stops spinning. The muffled music, once pounding against your temples, fades away. Body steady, you sip on the fresh air and swallow away your nausea.

I can do this, you tell yourself. Just one last drop off. I hand it over and leave.

They probably won’t even recognise you. You let your hair grow past your shoulders and dyed it strawberry blonde. You changed your style, trading your baby pink and blue matching sets for muted mixtures of red and black. Fishnets, little gym shorts, a graphic KISS babydoll tee and an oversized, knock-off fur coat you nicked from a local bodega weeks ago, you transformed yourself into someone new.

You turn back to the glass doors now. Catching your reflection, you cringe at the smudged eyeliner and runny nose. You wipe your hands under your eyes and above your lip, sniffling your worries away. You fix your jacket, reapply your dark red lipstick, and frame your hair around your face.

“I can do this,” you mutter as you slide open the door and step back into the party.

You spot Vince by the DJ, Danni and Andrea lingering nearby. Your heart drops to your stomach. They once told you they hated Day-1 parties, yet here they are, taking shots of gin and robbing the entertainment of their equipment. They once told you they loved you too, that they would never leave you behind. All at once, the three of them turned their backs on you, forever haunting your every waking moment.

You push between bodies. Tonight is not about ghosts. You have a debt to settle.

“Name?”

“Don’t be an asshole, Vik.”

Viktor crosses his arms over his chest. “Think this a joke?”

You fight off a smirk. “Nah, that’s not what I think a joke looks like.”

He grits his teeth, tossing you a vulgar gesture before moving aside. “Bitch,” he hisses in your ear as you walk into the master bedroom.

Red lights, smoke, needles. Two topless women dance to the muffled music, bottles in hand. Three Day-1s watch, one with his hand on his crotch. The bed shakes by them, two junkies bouncing on it like children as another Day-1 makes out with their friend.

By the window, two more members stare out to the street.

Exit compromised.

Gagging erupts from the en-suite, coaxing your curiosity. Another topless woman hunches over the toilet. Horny Day-1 members crowd around the entrance, trousers around their ankles as they watch.

You redirect your attention to the table on the far right. Reggie, point-man of tonight’s drop off, sits facing the door. He flashes a toothy grin, racking his gaze over your curves.

Hands remaining by your side, you fight against the instinct to wrap your coat tighter around yourself.

Reggie calls you over with the curl of two fingers, puffing his cigarette smoke out through his nostrils.

“Name?”

“Vinny sent me.”

The three men sitting around him exchange glances.

Taking a drag of his cigarette, Reggie, dressed in a blood speckled undershirt and baggy cargos, sits up in his seat. “Is that what I asked?” He looks around his fellow members, drily chuckling with them before repeating, “Name!”

The rules for runners are very simple; there’s only one— Never state your name. It creates a trail and binds you to an affliction. Rival gangs won’t work with a spy, and your name will be the first they spill if caught. You’re simply a messenger, no different than the guy that delivers the same-day Amazon order, distributing grams of coke and meth instead of a Roomba.

Honour gangs, like Day-1, are tricky, however. They have a second rule:

“Never lie,” Vinny warned.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do then?”

“Figure it out.”

You shift your weight. His insistence on your name, knowing you will risk your safety, is simply a test of will and grit. You purse your lips, flirting your eyes over his all too arrogant, lanky frame, and reply, “Bitch.”

Reggie raises a brow. He stands, reaching a hand behind him.

“That’s what everyone calls me,” you quickly add, then you shoot him a wink. “Fat bitch, if you’re nasty.”

The room stiffens. Even the gags from the bathroom cease. You keep your attention tunnelled on Reggie. You watch as he fixes his shirt over his gun, holding your breath when he rounds the table.

Nearly an arms length away, a smile finally settles on his old face. “Where the hell did Vinny find you?”

You force yourself to return that same easy grin and peel back the lining of your coat. “Be sure to ask him that the next time you see him. I’m on a tight schedule.”

Reggie gestures for his members. You pull out the wrapped bags of crystal and pass them out, ignoring the way his eyes devour your frame.

“Are you handling the cash too, princess?”

You try not to cringe at the pet name. Licking your lips, you keep your features soft and peer at him from your lashes. “Not tonight. Vinny said you know where the drop point is.”

He hums.

You pull your coat back around your body, resisting the urge to recoil under his glutinous gaze. He looks no younger than forty-five, the wrinkles around his mouth and eyes not doing him any favours. Vinny warned you Reggie might get handsy. Under any other circumstance, you would have kicked him in the balls and spat on his face by now. But you’re in Day-1 territory and don’t have a gang of your own for support.

Reggie reaches his hand out. You take a step back.

Before the thrill of your resistance can poison his stare, you flash him a coy smile and playfully whine, “I’m working tonight.”

He nods towards the door, laughing to himself. “Go on then, princess.”

You turn your back to him, unable to force down a gag. Though you’re eager to escape, you keep your steps steady and even. You stride towards the door, knock thrice and shift your weight to make a show of your boredom while waiting for Viktor to respond.

A relieved breath topples out of you once the door shuts. You lean on your knees, shakily trying to catch your breath.

Viktor carefully scans your hunched frame. “You good?” He whispers, voice is strained, carefully void of emotion.

You nod, standing back to your full height.

Hazel eyes lock on you from the bottom of the stairs. Vince furrows his brows. Danni follows his gaze, Andrea already staring, lips moving.

Shit.

They can’t know it’s you, right? From the way Vince merely narrows his eyes, he must simply suspect something.

You turn to face Viktor.

He tosses you a cautious look, muttering, “I can’t help you.”

You know this, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “Just tell me if they’re still looking.”

“Yes.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Viktor keeps his features neutral, posture stiff with his hands clasped before him. “They still got a hit on you, yeah?”

You nod.

“You packing?”

“You know I’m not,” you snap.

Non-members are not permitted entrance if carrying a firearm. You left yours with Vinny before running. Shoving your hands in your pockets, all you feel is your phone, lipstick, and switchblade.

“On the move,” he warns.

“Give me your gun.”

Viktor casts you a sidelong glare. “I can’t.”

You sneak a peek over your shoulder to find Vince halfway up the stairs. You see Danni reaching into her pocket, catching the glare of the lights against a blade. They’re in no rush, but if they make it to the landing before you can secure a proper weapon, you’ll be out of options.

“Do you have a knife?” you ask, taking a step back.

Viktor stiffens.

Shit, are they close?

“Last room down the hall,” Viktor mumbles.

You know you shouldn’t have, but fear triggers adrenaline and soon overwhelms your nerves. Panic binds to your bones, snapping tense muscles into action. You bolt— alone, alarmed. Pushing between drunks, jumping over junkies, you hurry to the farthest room and slam the door. It doesn’t have a lock so you tuck a chair under the handle. Rummaging through drawers, digging through the closet, lifting the mattress, you look for a knife, a gun, anything other than a three-inch switchblade to defend yourself.

The door trembles from the pounding of their fists.

“Come on out!” Vince shouts.

“It must be her! She’s always fucking hiding!” Andrea adds. “Get the fuck out here! Have the balls to face what you did, bitch!”

You find yourself warped in a memory—

“No one wants your boyfriend, Danni,” you shouted. “He came onto me.”

Her open palm landed on your cheek.

Tears gathered in your eyes, face stinging. You stumbled back.

“You’re a lying bitch,” she spat. “At least have the decency to face what you did.”

You blink out of your thoughts, dropping the mattress.

Dresser, closet , bed— Where else could a weapon be? You scan the room, heart hammering with every forceful knock of the door.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Reggie asks, voice muffled.

Your attention settles on the window in front of you. You hurry towards it to find the fire escape.

“Viktor, you sneaky fuck,” you whisper through a relieved chuckle. He wasn’t directing you to a weapon but rather an exit.

You quickly push it up, catching rumblings of orders to blow the door open. Up and out, you jump, sparing a second to shut the window behind you. It might be counter-productive to waste precious time on a window but you know that concealing your exits always gives you a head start.

Rushing down the stairs, you don’t look back upon hearing the loud blast of metal on wood. You just catch their commotion over the heavy bass of the music.

Jumping the final steps, you run.

The Underground sits on the corner of Bank and Third Avenue, tucked under a row of red-bricked townhouses. You lean against the wall, stowing yourself away in the alley to catch your breath. Sirens whirl down the street, casting red and blue lights over your sweaty face. A man of very little wealth stumbles by, clothes torn and stained, waving a sign that reads, JESUS LOVES YOU.

You roll your eyes, wondering where the fuck Jesus was when your parents failed you, when the bank repossessed all you had and when the system passed you from house to house.

The thick stench of sewage and rotten trash suddenly sets in, blighting your next inhale. Leaning over, you succumb to a gagging fit. Thankfully, only bile and saliva gather. You cough and spit it out, then wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. An annoyed sigh escapes you at the realisation that you fucked up your lipstick yet again.

“Just some drunken slut.”

You carefully redirect your attention to the far end of the alley. Two men stand a couple of inches apart. One of them wears a grey tracksuit, glaring at you under the light of the backdoor. He has a towel resting around his neck, just over a thin gold chain. Perhaps in his mid-twenties, his relatively handsome twists with contempt. The other one wears an oversized jersey and low-riding jeans. Though dressed like a boxing fan, you can tell by his rigid posture he’s anything but. No one who gambles their mortgage away on Underground matches stands that straight.

And then you catch it, in the glimpse of the light, the flash of his badge nearly slipping out of his pocket. You wish you were surprised, but you know all too well that it’s dirty cops like this legitimising gang activity.

He pulls his pants up, and continues to pace. “Is he gonna throw it or not?”

“He won’t,” Tracksuit replies, looking over his shoulder.

The dirty cop curses.

“You know how Bahng is,” Tracksuit explains. “He’s too prideful. He won’t ruin an undefeated streak for a few thousand.”

“It’s five hundred thousand, Mickey. Did you tell him that? Does he know?”

Mickey nods, readjusting the towel behind his neck. “And I’m telling you he doesn’t think it’s worth it.”

A shiver dances along your spine at the way the cop’s face hardens. Sinister desperation gleams in his gaze and he pulls out a long knife. In a single motion, he shoves Mickey against the wall and presses the blade against his throat.

Mickey chokes back a scream, throwing his hands up in surrender. “W-whoa, Andy! C-Come on, man.”

Andy bears his teeth, quietly laughing to himself. “Do you think this is a fucking joke? Do you know how fucked I am if he wins this match? Day-1s, Ravens, Siphons— they’re all after me, Mick. I have a family— a fucking career.”

“That’s not my pr—”

“Problem?” Andy finishes, his laughter becoming more manic. “You think it’s not your problem? What do you think I told them when I promised that Bahng would lose?”

Mickey’s face drains of colour.

“I told’em Mick with the little dick can fix it for us.”

Tears gather in Mickey’s eyes. He swallows thickly before shakily asking, “Wh-Why would you s-s-say th-at?”

“Come on, everyone knows you have a small—”

“You know what I mean!” He shouts.

Andy applies pressure with his knife. You catch a trail of blood running down Mickey’s throat.

“L-Look,” Mickey starts, screwing his eyes shut, lips quivering. “He’s hard-headed. The only way he’s not w-winning this ma-tch is if s-someone gets to h-him bef-ore he makes it to the r-ring.”

Andy smiles.

“He takes the long way ‘round. He likes the attention, c-can’t resist it, you know?” Mickey continues. “He goes thr-ough the back h-hall to circle the a-arena and enters the c-crowd from the fr-ont.” He takes a second to swallow before continuing, “It-It would be a real sh-shame if someone g-g-got to him before he can m-make it.”

You watch Andy nod.

“What did you do?”

You jump, hand already grappling for your switchblade as you turn to face your assailant.

Vinny glares back at you.

Giving him a shove, you clench your jaw and hiss, “Don’t do that!”

He corrects his stance, hands in his pockets, then spares a look over his shoulder. “Day-1s are blowing my phone up about some blonde bitch. Did you lock yourself in Tatiana’s room?”

You look back to the other end of the alley. Only flies circle under the backdoor’s light.

“Hey!” Vinny hisses, forcing your attention back to him. “Are you listening?”

“It wasn’t me,” you lie.

He deadpans. “You’re the only bitch I know who has a score to settle with Vince.”

You avert your gaze.

“What happened?” He repeats. This time his voice is less accusatory.

You’ve known Alvin “Vinny” Tucker since you were sixteen. He lived in the apartment above yours and later became your foster brother. You dropped out of high school together a couple months later to sell bootleg Marvel movies on Sixth Street. He really wanted to see Madonna in concert and promised you a front row seat with him if you helped. He was recruited by the Sixers around the time your foster mom came to collect you off the street and force you back to school. He told her where you were, you later found out, to spare you the violence the Sixers had in store for you. He never said it was a debt, though you did feel like you owed him something.

Things changed when Vince set a hit on you. Your description and name were on the radar of every gang, the reward being the acquisition of new territory. The left port is the most sought after piece of land, currently managed by Vince’s father, Vincent Jones Senior. Anyone able to deliver you back to your ex-friends alive suddenly has access to the docks and a monopoly on shipments.

With nowhere else to go, you turned to Vinny. He called Viktor, cashing in a favour, and got to work. The dyed hair, new wardrobe, change of address, it was all done in a matter of hours. And all you had to do was run, hand over the rocks and not attract attention— the goal was simple.

“So how the fuck did you manage to screw that up too?”

“I told you that it wasn’t me!”

“Say that again and I will lose my shit.”

“They can’t prove it was me, okay? Tell Day-1 Vince is paranoid. Run them my old description. Tell them he’s desperate. Let him clean that mess up himself,” you reply, rubbing your temples. “It’s not that fucking hard, Vin.”

You could use a hot bath right now. All you want to do is scrub off the stench of the alley and chaos of the night. For someone who swears he doesn’t want you, Vince took one look in your eyes and knew it was you. He always acted strange but you just thought he was being friendly. It wasn’t until he was rubbing your thigh between shots and rounds of cards that you realised he wanted more than friendship.

You cringe at the memory, pulling your coat tighter around your body, and push past Vinny.

He grabs your arm, yanking you back to face him. “Not that hard? Jesus, you’d think there isn’t a bounty on your head,” he hisses. “You need to be more careful, alright? This is my life too!”

Guilt gathers bile at the base of your throat. You let out a shaky breath, redirecting your gaze to the floor. “I-I know,” you mumble. “I’m sorry, okay? I just—”

Vinny grasps onto your biceps, lowering himself to meet your remorseful gaze. “You can’t panic like that,” he reminds, cutting you off. “The guilty don’t run. You know this.”

“I’m sorry.”

You hate the shakiness of your voice, the admittance of guilt. It’s fucking Vince and Danni and Andrea, the same fucking people that swore they were there for you. It’s their fault everything is falling apart. You’ve known Danni for five years, Andrea for three and both of them just believed Vince when he told them that you were hitting on him, even going as far as kissing him. Had they always suspected you to be a conniving whore, the type of malicious bitch that would risk five years of friendship, of real connection over some guy?

And you were too nice to him— a mistake that now could cost your life.

Vinny releases you with a defeated sigh, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Let me walk you home,” he offers, shoving his hands back into his pockets.

You nod and hug your coat tighter against your body.

He nods towards the entrance of The Underground. “After the match,” he promises. “Sixers have a bet to place.”

Bracing yourself, you follow him down the steps. “Against Bahng?”

“Boxing fan?” he half-jokingly asks, tossing you a confused look over his shoulder.

You shrug your reply.

The main hall smells of sweat and beer. One side holds five queues for refreshments and ticketing, while the other fosters chaos. Men clutching cash and shouting names crowd around the betting stands. Security struggles to keep them in line. Loud rap music plays over the looped announcement of tonight’s opponents — AIDEN MATTHEWS VERSUS CHRISTOPHER BAHNG. You watch their names flash over the screens, pictures of both boxers on either side of the doors. While Aiden is actively fit, muscles and abs on display, Christopher is the embodiment of perfect physique. Muscles defined, shoulders broad, chest puffed out, abs tight and chiselled, he stands with the grace of Adonis himself. Tall, confident, he leers over spectators through the screen with a cold-cutting glare.

Your knees almost buckle.

“It is the clash of titans! Reigning champion, Aiden Matthews, against the undefeated, the unstoppable, the undeniable, Christopher Bahng,” the announcer enthuses over the intercom before urging the audience to lock in their bets.

The only titan you see is Christopher, trailing your gaze up and down his televised body.

“You’re drooling,” Vinny teases.

You turn to cast him a sidelong glare to find he’s no longer by your side. His red beanie bobs in the crowd, through the doors and further into the arena.

“Vinny!” you call, trying to push your way through.

The crowd pushes back, almost throwing you against the wall. You curse under your breath, realising you might have to wait until the match starts to navigate through the arena.

Isn’t there a back hall that circles around, though? You recall Mickey’s words, scanning the crowd for that red beanie again. It still sits atop Vinny’s head by the ring on the other side of the arena. You look for a nearby door or access-point, finding a guarded door to his far left. If you can find the entrance on your end, you can skip through the large crowd and get to him easily.

You survey your surroundings. Another security guard stands before a door to your right. Pushing through the gamblers again and again, you force your way towards him.

“Authorised personnel only,” he gruffly informs.

“I-um—”

“You need to move, miss.” he cuts you off with a pointed look.

“I’m here to see Bahng,” you lie, letting your jacket drop off one of your shoulders.

He raises a brow. “Who commissioned you?”

“Mickey,” you reply before you can stop yourself.

There is much honour among gangs, this Vinny always makes sure you know. He always warns you against dishonesty, especially to certain gang members, since you have no affiliation of your own. But it’s just so easy when you have the right information and you like the way lies just happen to roll off your tongue, effortless and oh-so convincing.

The guard nods, much to your concealed surprise. “Just his type,” you swear you hear him grumble as he opens the door for you.

Hiding a smile, you make your way in without another word.

The back hall is dimly lit. The click of the door echos. Medleys of muffled bass and roaring fans only just seep through and bounce off the brick walls. You adjust your jacket on your shoulders and follow the turns of the hall.

DING!

You jolt, cinching a yelp at the base of your throat. Hastily, you dig into your pocket for your phone.

Vinny: where r u?

You: be there soon

“Lost?”

You look up at the sound of an Australian accent. To your left is an open door of a dressing room, casting a bright spotlight on you amidst the dark hallway. You put your phone away and take quick note of the bodies around the room. Mickey stands by some weights in the corner, eyes narrowing. A handful of medical professionals assess their equipment, rummaging through their kits and looking over clipboards just across from him. By the punching bag, right in front of a wall of mirrors, a couple of men, one with long, icy blonde hair and the other a short midnight black, evaluate your presence.

And there, in the centre of it all, stands Christopher Bahng. Jawline sharp, nose large and lips plush, those big brown eyes soften. You recall the way they were once glaring at his opponent on the screen, wondering what the hell it is about you that makes him opt for a gentler approach. Wrapping boxing tape around his hand, he approaches you.

“Can I help you find something, darling?”

The pet name sounds so casual, so natural, you wouldn’t have guessed that you just met. Your posture relaxes, coat falling off your frame, held up only by your arms. There is a softness in his deep voice that nurtures something forgotten deep within your soul. You feel it- whatever it is- sprout roots in your gut.

Searching his eyes, the cursed word escapes within a breath— “You.”

He smirks.

Does this happen often? Does everyone simply fawn over him?

He smells of leather and vanilla, towering over you. His minty breath fans your face. He rubs his thumb under your lip, cleaning up the smudged lipstick from your chin.

You lean into his touch.

“You’re early!” Mickey shouts from his place in the back. “Sister Maria knows you’re needed after the match.”

Sister Maria can fuck herself, you think. She has tried and failed to recruit you one too many times. Though, if you had known that her clientele was anything like Bahng, you might have reconsidered.

Looking at him now, you can confirm that those screens barely did him any justice. He’s big. It’s no wonder he’s undefeated, the sheer size of him dominating enough. He barely even has a scratch on him, just a couple of cuts on his perfect cheekbones and a bruise that is well on its way to being fully healed, along his jaw. You resist the urge to trace the length of his shoulders, or the ridges of his abs all while leaning in to kiss his wounds away.

Instead, you swallow thickly and nod, “Yes, I-I just got confused.”

Bahng curls a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “It’s okay, darling,” he smiles.

You bite back a moan. God, when did you get this pathetic? So what if he’s hot, and sweet, and beautiful, and huge, and—

“You can wait in here for me,” he nods back into his dressing room. “I won’t be too long.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks. He flashes a cocky grin, knowingly gazing down at you. He really is prideful, a bit arrogant too, but you’re not quite sure it’s misplaced. Undefeated in the ring, the only chance anyone has at beating him is by planning an ambush before a match .

Shit.

Your eyes flicker to Mickey. He’s going to kill him. In a matter of minutes, Bahng and his team will circle the arena to enter the ring and get intercepted. And for what? A fucking paycheque?

You shift your weight.

“No!” you shout, starling the room.

All eyes snap to you.

What? You mentally scold. I can’t just shout ‘No’ and expect the entire fucking shit-show to be called off.

Bahng raises his brows. A smile plays on his lips and he lets a chuckle slip. “That needy?” he teases.

Fuck, he’s insufferable… You need to ride him.

Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you force yourself to concede, “Mhm.” You grasp the waistband of his crimson silk shorts and tug him closer. He lets you, pressing himself against your stomach.

A trembling breath slips.

He holds back a chuckle.

Say something, your mind shouts.

“Fuck me.”

Not that!

He cups your face. The way you instantly melt into his hands is truly pitiful, your chest raging with humiliation. But then his lips meet yours and those roots that grew deep in your gut begin to blossom up through your rib cage and around your lungs. Absolute serenity blinds whatever contempt took purchase in your chest. You try to grapple onto that anger, that disdain, finding this sudden light feeling much too foreign.

But just as his lips cradle yours, this incomparable feeling of pure contentment soothes your panicked instincts. And it’s as though those roots, those branches that sprouted around your lungs, bloom petals of… Acceptance? Approval?

The feeling of his hands trailing down your spine ground you back to him. You wrap your arms around his neck. Cheek by cheek, he cups your rear and squeezes, pushing your hips up into his.

You moan, the muffled sound so frail. His tongue slips through and, for a boxer, he doesn’t put up much of a fight. He lets you take the lead, following your tongue round and round until you release another fraught groan.

And then he’s torn away.

Mickey stands between the two of you. He shoots you a nasty look before pushing Bahng back into the room. You can tell Bahng allows the meek force of his coach to overtake him, lazily stepping back.

The ease of his movements is not what arrests your thoughts, however. It’s the mess of red lipstick around his mouth, of which he makes no effort to remove.

“… and I’ll say it again!” Mickey shouts, his voice finally registering. “No sex before a match!”

You blink your attention off Bahng as Mickey moves to shut the door in your face.

“Let her in,” Bahng orders.

Mickey turns to give him a look. “She’s a distraction.”

You catch Bahng walking towards the weights along the back brick-exposed wall, effectively ignoring Mickey’s protests. “Don’t make me come over there, Mick,” he playfully warns, taking a seat on an inclined workout bench, “Let my girl in.”

You’re in the midst of wondering whether he’s merely his coach, a friend, or both when his final words set in. You hold onto the door frame to keep from falling over. His girl? You’d turn yourself in, confronting Vince, just to hear those words in that Australian accent again.

“You commissioned her for me, didn’t you?”

Right, you think to yourself as you will strength back to your legs. You’re his sex worker. This is nothing personal.

You roll your shoulders back and adjust your stance, channelling bored seduction, as Mickey begrudgingly opens the door.

Bahng calls you over with a nod. He has heavy weights in each hand, curling slow reps.

You lick your lips and force one foot before the other. But his biceps are flushed, flexing with every lift. You can’t help gawking, bouncing your attention from arm to arm, and almost run into one of his men.

“Jacket,” Midnight-hair says, positioning himself between you and Bahng with an outstretched hand.

While there isn’t anything of value left in your jacket, you know that if they find the lining is removable, your cover will be blown. You cannot deny them it either, especially if you want to get close enough to warn Bahng.

So you slowly peel the jacket off, sticking out your chest in hopes of distracting Midnight-hair. He keeps his eyes trained on you, gaze hardening as if he is struggling to commit to his choice. From the corner of your eye, you see Icy-hair push himself off the wall to carefully watch. If they refuse to get lost in your show, you’ll have to switch gears. In one swift motion, you whip the jacket off and roll it to a ball.

Midnight-hair glares. He unfolds the jacket as soon as he takes it– a detail you should have anticipated. Rummaging through your pockets, he announces, “Switchblade, lipstick, phon—”

You freeze.

Though it is quick, occurring in a blink of an eye, you know he sees it, cutting himself off at the realisation.

The lining flaps open.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shi—

“Hang it by the door, Seungmin,” Bahng orders.

You meet his gaze. That easy playfulness that once danced within it, now dims into calculated intrigue. You spare a quick glance at Mickey. A relieved breath escapes at the sight of him muttering into his phone, alone in the corner.

Looking back at Bahng, you finally see it. There, sprayed on the back wall in black and silver paint, is a three pointed crown. In the middle, drawn with jagged, lazy lines, are three letters— SKZ.

Of all the fucking gangs.

Stray Kids, speculated to have immigrated from Australia or Korea, have slashed their way to the top of the city’s food chain. The chambering of a round— chk chk boom — shoot first and ask questions later. It’s how they’re known. Notorious for money laundering, drug trafficking, vandalism, extortion, arson, street racing, they’ve swept the city up from the coast to the police department. You’ve witnessed gangs fall silent at their mention, caught the way they would take hold of their weapon.

While there have been whispers about the members, the leader remains faceless. Vinny once informed you that no organisation can become this connected without someone calling the shots. At the time, you wondered if that was the most terrifying thing about them— how unknown they really are.

Staring at Bahng now, white canines on display behind a wicked grin, you realise that his leader’s anonymity is futile compared to the intimidation of their members. It’s their silent power, the ease in which they can rattle bones with a single look, perhaps even crack them with a single blow. You are not sure who Christopher Bahng is to Stray Kids— the muscle, the brains, some money pawn as they infiltrate the underground boxing scene, but you know he is dangerous.

Arousal dampens your shorts.

“Take a seat, darling,” he purrs.

He’s lethal, and your lies are unravelling. If you are going to make it out of here alive, you must reassess your information. You inhale deeply, filling your lungs with wavering courage, and move towards Bahng.

Step.

Mickey is a rat.

Step.

This is Stray Kids territory.

Step.

Bahng knows you are not a sex worker.

Step.

Exits are compromised, Icy-hair now standing at the door.

Step.

Your life is now in the hands of an unrivalled boxer.

Bahng nods down to his lap. You carefully straddle it when it dawns on you— His life is in your hands too.

Half-hard, his cock pokes at the clothed apex of your thighs. Your lips quiver as you try to fight back a pathetic whine.

“My pecs tend to ache after working out,” Bahng sighs, continuing his reps. “Won’t you be a doll and massage them for me?”

You don’t need to be told twice, shifting yourself closer.

His jaw sets at the gesture.

Pecs of pure muscle, big and tight, you take a moment to gawk. They extend beyond the span of your palms, pale skin flushed under your touch. He’s sweaty but cold, nipples hard. You hold his gaze and kneed the heel of your hands into his chest. Again and again, you apply gentle pressure, watching as his brows furrow, large nose scrunches and full lips curl into a pleased sneer.

He hisses between breathless gasps. You resist the urge to catch another kiss at the sound.

“How does that feel?” you ask in a whisper.

Bahng sets his weights down. You notice Seungmin straightening his stance in the corner of your eye. Though your hands start to tremble, you continue massaging, knowing sudden movements might trigger a bullet.

Hands on your waist, he pulls you closer into him. “Have you done this before?”

You shake your head.

“Don’t do much massaging in your… line of work?”

You mentally curse. He knows you’re a runner.

“This is not the body part most people want massaged.” You try but cannot keep your lip from slightly curving, the thought of servicing him on your knees all too captivating.

He presses his fingers into your skin and parts his lips. You can tell from the force of his grip and shape of his mouth what he’s about to ask.

Sparing a quick glance at Mickey, you find he is still tied to his phone, muttering quietly into the receiver.

But then he catches your eye.

“Who—”

You throw your body over Bahng’s, exaggerating the force with a whip of your hair and a loud, erotic yelp to cut him off. You wrap your arms around his neck, press your lips to his ears and whisper, “Mickey is a traitor.”

While he originally hugged your waist to keep you from falling, Bahng now stiffens.

“Alright, whore,” Mickey shouts. “Get the fuck out!”

You spot him stomping towards you through the mirror. The collided image of your body intertwined with Bahng’s then overwhelms your attention. You have never felt small a single moment in your life, yet in his arms, you are minuscule. Your body relaxes into his, despite the chaos that ensues around you.

“…a fucking distraction, Chris,” Mickey argues. “You can fuck her after the fight.”

Chris. You like the sound of that, can see yourself moaning it as you bounce on his cock. You clench at the thought.

“Go back to your little corner, Mick,” Chris nods. “Don’t interrupt us again.”

“You want to win, don’t you?”

You can’t hold back your scoff. You can see the room stiffen at the sound through the mirrors. Peeling yourself from Chris’s strong frame, you fake a string staggered cough. The physicians ignore you, Mickey dismisses you, but Chris and his other friends remain observing, analysing.

“I’ve fucked plenty o’bitches before a match,” Chris confesses, flashing a smile so dazzling you almost abandon the jealousy that plagues your chest. “I always win.”

Mickey looks between your tangled bodies. His jaw sets, throat bobs. He wipes his face with the towel around his neck and forces a smile. It doesn’t meet his eyes, but it’s the thin scab on his neck that leaves you queasy.

Chris’s legs bounce beneath you, beckoning your attention. You grip onto his shoulder to maintain your balance as you meet his gaze. Wetness pools at the sight of his mischievous eyes. He peers at you under his brows, quirking one at your enamoured silence.

“Did I tell you to stop?”

What if you just kissed him again? How would he let it go? Knowing you lied and now leveraging information, would he be outraged if you closed the distance between you and played with his tongue? You know he enjoyed himself from the grip he had on your ass alone, not to mention the bulge pressing against your stomach.

You lean forward, leaving one of your hands rested on his shoulder, and brush your nose against his. He remains still, letting his gaze fall to watch your lips. While oh-so tempting, you don’t press them to his. Instead, you knead into his pectoral muscles deeper with your other hand, pushing into his skin with the heel of your palm. You’ve made sure to angle your head towards the mirror to gauge the distance of the other bodies in the room— particularly Mickey’s. Back in his “little corner,” he resumes his phone call.

Chris’s soft groan redirects your gaze to his features, contorted in relieved pleasure. Is he really tense or is it simply your touch?

Seungmin clears his throat from his place in front of the mirrors.

Chris shoots him a warning stare before offering you a softer version of one too. “Tell me what you know, runner,” he orders, voice quiet but full of command.

“I know he came to you with an offer to fix the fight,” you reply, keeping an eye on Mickey’s pacing frame. “I know you declined.”

His hands find a comfortable place on your thighs, and begin to glide up and down, soft and slow. Calloused, bandaged in boxer’s tape, they somehow provide tender care. You relax into him once again, resting your forehead against his.

“I know Mickey sold you out. I know he cut a deal to save himself and they’re coming for you.”

“Who?”

You nudge his nose with a shake of your head.

A ghost of a smile hovers over his plump lips at the gesture. He breathes half a chuckle and presses his fingers into the fat of your thighs, between the diamonds of your fishnets.

“You don’t know?” he practically coos. “Did you happen to catch a name, little one?”

Your attempts at pressing your legs together are pathetic. Instead of subtly easing your clenching desire, you squeeze his sides with your knees. Blood rushes to your face, heating your cheeks.

Chris lets that smug smile settle on his lips, tonguing his cheek. “Yeah,” he chuckles, “You like it when I call you that?”

“I like it when you talk to me like that,” you stupidly confess. You switch sides before he can reply, turning away from the mirrors to face Mickey’s corner, and kneed his other pec with just as much pressure, perhaps adding a bit more to combat your embarrassment.

He allows you, leaning back and watching.

He’s so patient, you fondly think, avoiding his gaze. Won’t he let you suck him before his fight? Even allowing you a little taste would suffice. Swallowing, you cannot stop thinking how empty your throat is, how wonderfully agonising it would be to try to accommodate him.

You spare a sidelong glance at Mickey, snapping yourself out your lustful yearning long enough to ensure you aren’t being overheard. When you find he is tapping away on his phone, you press your lips to Chris’s ear and whisper, “Andy.”

Chris continues rubbing your legs, asking, “What do you know about him?”

“I think he’s a cop.”

“You think?”

“He never said it.”

“So how do you know?”

You force your hips to remain still even as goosebumps rise in the wake of his risky touch, inching closer and closer to the apex of your thighs.

“His posture, he said something about his career being on the line, and I think I saw a badge. I just–” you pause to swallow the excess saliva gathering in your mouth. He’s barely even touched you and you’re already drooling. “I just connected the dots.”

Chris hums.

You lean back to get a better look at his face. His features are compressed in thought, brows knitted and eyes uncertain. Your hand has a mind of its own, abandoning its task on his chest to comb your fingers through his dark hair. Leisurely, he meets your gaze, even leans into your touch. You graze his scalp with your long nails, soft and slow.

You have had sexual partners. You have allowed your lust to cloud your judgement, tossed back drinks and spread your legs quite a few times between parties and side-jobs. But you have never been able to hold someone down, however. You have never been able to consistently see the same person over and over or even call them yours.

Here is Christopher Bahng— undefeated boxing champion, the best The Underground has seen. Sitting beneath you, erection pushing against your clothed crotch, he contently sighs. His hands move up to your hips, rubbing, soothing, adoring the shape of your curves and rolls. And his gaze gleams with admiration, bouncing around your features as if looking for a flaw.

You allow yourself to forget the world, the distant chants of fans and gamblers alike eager for the show to start. You forget the bounty on your head, your ex-friends, Vinny, Viktor, Seungmin lingering around the door with Icy-hair, Mickey texting in his sad little corner. You forget who’s territory this is and the title of the man sitting under you. You allow yourself to isolate this tender moment and pretend that Christopher Bahng is yours.

Your man, your protector, your love. He’d crush skulls between his fist and snap spines over his knee. He’d make sure you’d never have to run again. He’d make sure you’d never have to fear for your life. He’d hold you when you’re tired, and carry you to bed when you’re too lazy to make the trip yourself.

You wonder what that’s like— Love. You remember your mother once said something about it when you asked about your father.

“Love is a lie men created to seduce women,” she said while heating the bottom of her spoon. “Any man telling you otherwise is just desperate to fuck you.”

You mentally roll your eyes. You also remember instantly regretting your mention of it. You were about eight years old when she shared that nugget of knowledge. She then wrapped the conversation up by telling you the heroin she was preparing was her “special medicine” and you shouldn’t, under any circumstance, touch it when she passes out.

If that’s not motherly instincts, you’re not sure what is.

“How can I trust you?” Chris asks, lulling you out of your thoughts.

You make sure Mickey is still preoccupied with his phone before joking, “The word of a whore isn’t worth much anymore, is it?”

He cracks half a smile before leaning his head away from your touch. You take the hint, retracting your hand from his hair.

“You’re not a whore,” he states, voice gruff but quiet.

You swallow thickly. “I could be.”

“Yeah?” He quirks a brow. “Tell me what you’d do right now if you could.”

You wonder how honest you should be. Vinny always said that lying would get you killed, but you have an audience. Looking over your shoulder, you find Seungmin alone by the door. Icy-hair must have left when you let your delusions engulf you earlier. The physicians are desperately trying to look busy, sneaking glances at your proximity with their client. Everyone, save for Mickey who seems the most peeved by your presence, is already uncomfortable by your position on his lap.

How dangerous could the truth really be?

Meeting Chris’s playful stare again, you rest your hands on his tight abs and let a shy smile tug on your lips. “I would ride your thigh,” you confess. When he raises his brows, a surprised smirk gracing his lips, you explain, “They’re just so big and strong. I’m just curious to know what it would feel like on my clit.”

The transparent vulgarity of your confession dries your throat. Your chest heats, humiliation trembling your fingers. You part your lips, wishing you can take it back. But your voice fails you, as if standing firm with your statements.

“Interesting,” he muses. “Do it.”

You clear your throat, furrowing your brows. “What?”

“You want me to trust your word?” he asks.

He lets his hands fall to his sides. Your legs suddenly feel so cold.

“In—” you cut yourself off, taking another quick look around the room. “In front of everyone?”

He shrugs. “You told me you would do it.”

You projected two outcomes the moment they discovered you’re a runner and you decided to exchange information for your life.

One — You get laughed at and kicked out of the establishment.

Two — Chk chk boom.

You might have hoped that Chris considered fucking you before discarding you to the streets, wishful for a good orgasm or two. But you did not expect him to order you to grind on his leg in front of his team.

“Match starts in five,” Mickey announces.

While you turn to acknowledge the warning, Chris keeps his attention on you.

“It starts when I say so,” he replies.

Mickey grumbles profanities under his breath before turning back to his phone. You start to wonder what the fuck has held his focus all night when Chris cups your chin, forcing your gaze back on him.

“I’m beginning to lose my patience, darling,” he warns. “You’re either telling the truth or you’re not.”

You lick your lips. Of all the things you thought your life would depend on, you did not think it would be an orgasm.

Inhaling deeply, you adjust your stance and straddle his thigh. Your lips tremble at the sheer strength of his leg, so tense and taut under your wet shorts. You couldn’t have been more thankful for laundry day and the lack of clean panties available. With nothing but your tiny gym shorts between your crotch and his leg, you can feel every mighty muscle.

You notice movement in the mirror from the corner of your eye. One glance and you find Seungmin has turned to face the door. How often has Chris played with a whore in front of his friends? You clench your jaw as envy pesters your heart. What the fuck did those other girls have that you don’t? Why did he pick them? Why—

“Look at me.”

You obey, meeting his pacifying gaze. He curls your hair behind your ears, the gesture gentle and genuine.

You suck in your bottom lip, eyes wide as jealousy transforms into wonder. He may have picked others before you, but he chose to let you in now. He had a chance to turn you away and he fought to have you in this specific position, all to himself. And maybe he wants others to know that. Or maybe he really does have a fucked up way of verifying his sources. What matters is this time, it is you. And you’ll be damned if you don’t take advantage of that.

Hands on his stomach, fingers sliding between the ridges of his abs, you thrust. The first jut of friction is tentative. Hiccups of pleasure spark from your bundle of nerves and you wobble over his leg. Chris grabs your waist simply to steady you, and retracts once you regain your balance.

You continue, jaw dropping at the constant surge of satisfaction. Wetness gathers and stains your shorts, making the glide of your hips all the more effortless. One look in his eyes, and you know Chris feels it too. However, that wicked smile of his does not overwhelm his features until you moan.

Strained, frail, the sound cuts over the ruckus of the physicians. The room falls silent as you ground yourself hard against his thigh and release another fraught moan of pure enjoyment. Your hands travel higher on his chest, and you lean forward into him, keen to gain more leverage to arch your back.

Chris catches onto your intentions, his attention all too consumed by the curves of your rear. He grabs your waistband and pulls on it, tightening the fabric to sharpen the friction of the thrusts.

“Fuck!” Your voice breaks from bliss, orgasm already festering in the base of your gut.

It’s all too hot. Face, arms, legs, your skin burns, blood racing, nerves jittering. You need everything off. You need his skin on yours, his body engulfing you with more pleasure, more attention.

Lips quivering, breaths shaky, you sit back. You continue to chase your high while grabbing the hem of your shirt and pulling it off. Your hips don’t miss a beat as you reach back to unclasp your lace bra in a few simple manoeuvres and toss it aside as well.

Chris lowly groans. His eyes flicker between each bouncing breast, hands finally finding their rightful place on your backside. He digs his fingers into the fat of your cheeks and helps you with your final few thrusts.

“Can you go a little faster for me?”

You enthusiastically oblige.

A powerful smack, landing on your left cheek, triggers your most erotic moan, voice laden with submission. He issues another on your right and you whine this time, squeaky and breathless.

Chris leans forward so your breasts bounce against his face. He doesn’t bury his face between them however, eager to watch your face eventually contort in ecstasy.

“Good girl,” he praises. “That’s right, keep looking at me.”

Twisting and turning, your arousal gathers.

“You’re doing so well, riding my thigh just like you promised, yeah?”

His voice is condescending, almost making a mockery of your whimpering. He even momentarily mirrors your rounded eyes and slightly pouty lips, looking up at you tauntingly. So why does it fuel your desire, motivate your hips?

You nod, despite your humiliation, voice whiny as you confess, “I’d do it again too.”

A growl of approval resonates from his chest and into yours. He kneads your cheeks, letting a deep groan of his own escape and collide with yours.

“That’s my good girl,” he affirms. “Don’t stop, darling. You’re almost there.”

Your toes curl, tight in your platform boots. Your eyes roll back, twitching when you throw your head back. Your jaw drops, a loud, shattered moan escaping. You cum between sporadically clenching, pathetically gyrating on his firm thigh.

Chris holds you still, mumbling quiet affirmations between your breasts. He presses wet kisses on each one, pulling you back into him. Draping your arms around his shoulders, you fall limp against him. He moans from his smothered place in the valley of your breasts and rubs soothing circles around your backside.

Head foggy, chest heaving, you let your eyes flutter shut. You know you won’t be staying here for long, either meeting the barrel of his gun or the side of the street. There’s no harm in soaking in this moment then, is there? You pretend he is your boyfriend, issuing tender aftercare as you attempt to collect your sanity. You don’t have to try so hard to keep up the delusion with the way he delicately wraps you in a warm hug and comforts your hammering heart with his lips. He peppers kisses up your collarbone, neck, then jaw before meeting the shell of your ear.

“You know you’re really pretty when you’re cumming,” he teases. “Does your right eye always twitch like that? Or was that just for me?”

You open your eyes, squinting against the brightness of the room. Nuzzling the bridge of your nose under his jawline, you whisper, “Do you really need more convincing, Chris?”

You like the way his name rolls off your tongue.

The widening grin on his face tells you he likes it too. “I might,” he replies.

You tell yourself that it just slips, but you’re only lying again. You just want him to know. You want him to imagine you when he jerks off later, when he pounds that traitor to a bloody pulp, when he’s standing in the ring and winning his fight. You want him to be thankful for your presence tonight. You want him to repeat it over and over, to tell his friends about you.

So, shifting back enough to whisper in his ear, you offer your name.

Chris moves back to meet your gaze. He scans your features, his own a blanket of neutrality.

The weight of your action does not settle upon your shoulders until his eyes meet yours again, and you realise you cannot decipher them. Swallowing thickly, you blink back tears. How could you say that? Vinny just warned you against being this reckless. Your new image is tied to him too. You’ve been running around town, disturbing drugs on his behalf or Viktor’s. And you just offer your name, for what? A second of appreciation from a pretty face?

It’s my life too, Vinny’s voice quietly returns. He reminded you of that not even half an hour ago. Why the fuck would you tell some Stray Kids member your darkest secret? Why would you gamble the lives of your only remaining friends?

“I’m—”

Chris cuts you off with a shake of his head. So, you swallow your words.

He reaches for your shirt and helps you put it on. You don’t have the courage to tell him he forgot your bra. He then gestures for you to stand, and fixes your ruined shorts so they’re not riding up anymore. You watch as he studies the damp spot and clenches his jaw to force back a smile.

“Seungmin,” he calls, standing up and towering over you again.

You wonder how tall he is but know better than to ask now.

Seungmin reports to Chris’s side. Chris nods to your fur coat, “Grab it and escort her to the stands.”

“You’r—”

“Now,” he reaffirms, cutting you off again.

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you accept your coat and follow Seungmin out. You shouldn’t have, but you sneak a glance at the mirror eager to catch his reflection one last time.

Chris’s features harden as he faces Mickey. His fists clench.

Mickey stiffens, all previous irritation dissolving into fear.

The door shuts.

Waves of painted faces and torsos, endless banners, and flashing lights— the arena succumbs to insanity. Roars of chants echo upon the ring announcer’s behest. The thick stench of sweat and spilled beer is what overwhelms you, however. Scrunching your nose in disgust, you try to swallow your nausea.

You wonder how anyone here can stand it, turning back to take a final look at Seungmin. He stands at the doorway, arms crossed, gaze lingering around your rear. His ears flame a hot pink at the realisation he’d been caught.

A lazy smirk plays on your lips. He didn’t get a good enough look before?

Seungmin mutters something to the security guard stationed at the door then hurries back into the hall. You wonder if the guard is a Stray Kids member too. Is the ring announcer? What about the employees behind the stands? Or do they simply work for the gang?

“Runner!” Vinny’s voice cuts through the crowd. You turn at the call of your position, finding him standing on his seat and waving you over.

A relieved smile spreads across your lips. He meets you halfway as you push between rowdy spectators. He takes your hand firmly in his and leads you back to your seats.

“Where the hell were you?” He asks over the commotion.

“It’s complicated.”

Vinny’s face darkens with scepticism. “What the fuck did—”

“Who did you bet on?”

He clenches his jaw. “Matthews,” he practically screams.

So the Sixers are in on it too. You wonder if the gangs are onto Chris, knowing he might be affiliated with Stray Kids, and are working together to bring them down.

“Change it.”

“The bell rings in less than a minute,” Vinny shouts before looking over his shoulder to the front doors. He meets your gaze, uncertainty flooding those cerulean eyes, and mouths, It’s fixed.

You shake your head.

Vinny rolls his eyes shut, teeth grinding. He swallows his anger, knowing he cannot hurl insults right now with such an audience. Unlike you, he knows better than to call attention to himself. Exhaling sharply, he harshly holds your gaze and parts his lips.

Profanities? Threats? You expect both, bracing yourself with a clench of your fists.

But Vinny merely shakes his head in disappointment. He pulls out his phone and begins dialling. While waiting for someone to pick up, he yells, “If I die, I’m going to kill you!”

You suppress a smile and stifle the urge to respond with a joke. You fear you might have reached his limit. You’ve dragged him into your dark vortex of despair, endangering his life again and again. You should reach out to him now, pull him into a tight hug and offer endless apologies. You should have taken the chance he gave you when he called your foster mom, and stayed off the streets. You should have finished high school, applied for colleges outside of the wretched city of Crimson Heights, and never looked back. Instead, you continue to test his patience.

Side-jobs were simply more lucrative. You have a talent for blending in too, a permanent look of indifference plastered on your face. No one ever suspects some girl, twirling a joint between her fingers, to be running or organising hits on corner stores and local diners.

The first time you held a gun, power ignited through your veins. You carried the weight of life within a bullet, finger teasing the trigger. The first time you pointed it at some store clerk, black ski mask over your face and tongue swirling around a pink lollipop, you felt that stone cold power of metal and powder snake along your spine and caress the nape of your neck.

You rolled your shoulders back, angled your head and smirked.

The clerk soiled himself, hands up in surrender.

You pressed the barrel to his head anyway, boring your wild eyes into his fearful ones.

“Well, this is awkward for you, isn’t it?” you giggled before cocking your gun.

The memory lures a smile. While you didn’t shoot him, provided he was very cooperative, it was fun toying with him.

The lights begin to whirl around the arena, snapping you out of your thoughts. Vinny hangs up the phone, and though the crowd is deafening, you can still hear his heavy, nervous breaths beside you.

All lights converge in the centre of the boxing ring. The cheers increase, crowd buzzing with anticipation. A tall, slender man dressed in a clean, glittering suit enters and takes his place in the middle of the ring. He holds a hand up and waves, encouraging excitement.

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, welcome to The Underground!” He shouts into the microphone. Cameras capture his perfect white smile, projecting the image on the large screens hanging over the ring.

“My name is Jackson Wylder and I will be your ring master this evening. Now, I have an important question for you tonight.” He scans the audience, displays a look of curiosity and asks, “Are you ready to rumble?”

The cheers surge.

“I said,” he starts before darting around the ring, “ARE YOU READY TO RUMBLE?”

You clap your hands over your ears at the thundering roars of the fans. A group of manic men jump behind you, almost pushing you off your seat and onto the spectators in front of you.

Vinny links his arm with yours and pulls you into his side. You turn to give him a thankful look, but he avoids your gaze.

“Tonight, we have a clash of titans!” Jackson continues, turning to point to his left. “In this corner, weighing in at 210 pounds and hailing from our very own, Crimson Heights, give it up for the man who’s always up for a fight— the skilled and tenacious, Aiden Matthews!”

Aiden emerges from a dark hall closest to his corner. He wears a blue silk robe and white gloves, bouncing on his toes as he makes his way through the unruly crowd. They holler at him, either tossing praises or insults, and bump their hands against his fists. He waves his arms up to encourage their hectic energy then finally enters the ring. His coach unfolds a chair and then helps him out of his robe.

Jackson shakes Aiden’s hand. He mutters a few words before returning to the centre of the ring.

“And in the opposite corner, we have a fighter who needs no introduction—” Jackson starts again. A childish smile plays on his lips, like he’s a fan, himself. “A crowd favourite, a sensation, and the undefeated champion who makes every match feel like a blockbuster!” He’s giddy, practically giggling his words. “Standing tall at a staggering 6 feet 9 inches and weighing in at an impressive 215 pounds, please put your hands together for the man who’s taken the boxing world by storm, Christopher ‘The Phantom’ Bahng!”

The roars bellow deep from the crowd as they cheer and chant, “Bahng! Bahng! Bahng!”

Everyone, even Jackson, turns to the front door, waiting for Chris to emerge.

You swallow thickly.

The lights then shift to the other end of the arena.

Your heart already falters at his height. He’s still almost a foot taller than you in your thick platforms. You stand to see him, legs almost giving out when you spot his large figure appear through the back door. But it’s the mess of red lipstick still smeared on his lips, the blood speckled like freckles on his cheeks, and the dark patch on the leg of his shorts that wrings your soul. He didn’t even give you a chance to be grateful that he trusted you, slaughtering your sanity with such a dishevelled look.

Decorated in you, he enters the ring and shakes the hand of a bashful Jackson. No one seems fazed by his appearance. Jealousy pangs your chest at the thought of him being drenched in his past whores, the admittance of his pre-match rituals returning to you.

One look from Vinny might indicate otherwise. He glares at your smudged lipstick.

You roll your eyes and lean into him, too breathless and trembling to fight off his wrath.

“Tonight,” Jackson smiles, raising his hand to redirect the crowd’s attention. “Tonight, we’re in for a spectacular display of skill, heart, and,” he shoots the fans a little wink, “perhaps a bit of humour—because let’s face it, if you can’t have fun while throwing punches, what’s the point?!”

He takes a moment to laugh at his own joke.

You keep your eyes on Chris. Mickey does not unfold his chair and take his robe. Instead a shorter, just as muscled, man does. He gives Chris a weary look, of which Chris ignores, and squirts some water in his mouth.

You force yourself not to focus on the droplets that drip from his pouted, stained lips.

“This is not just a fight, folks,” Jackson informs with a raise of his brows. “No, no! This is a showdown!”

He lets the crowd go crazy before continuing, “Aiden Matthews is ready to prove that he’s a force to be reckoned with, but Christopher Bahng,” he turns to his favourite star and grins, “has captured the hearts of fans everywhere. Can Aiden dethrone the giant, or will Bahng continue his reign of dominance?”

You suck in a shaky breath and blow it out. You fill your lungs of tainted sweat-slick air, fighting the urge to gag, and release it once more. Looking around the arena, you swallow the growing lump in your throat. All these fans have come to watch Chris win, and have no idea that he almost died.

“So, buckle up, ladies and gents! Keep your drinks close, your snacks handy, and your eyes glued to the ring! It’s time to witness boxing history unfold right before our eyes!” Jackson’s eyes twinkle with astonishment and wonder. He holds his arms out and turns in a slow circle. “Are you ready for this showdown?” He asks as if truly probing for a personal answer.

“Let’s get ready to rumble!”

Mouth guards in, both fighters stand.

Aiden, while built and tall in his own right, looks like an ant compared to Chris. He pounds his fists together and grunts to assert his dominance. He bounces on his toes and shoots Chris his most menacing glare.

Chris flashes a lazy smile. He rolls his shoulders back and holds his fists up. He peers over his gloves at Aiden like a predator stalking its prey.

The bell rings.

“And here we go, folks! Round 1 is officially underway! Aiden Matthews is looking to prove himself against the undefeated giant, Christopher Bahng!” Jackson comments ringside.

Aiden cautiously circles the ring with Chris. He maintains a safe distance, the heat of his gaze wavering under Chris’s relaxed stance. Testing the waters, he tries his luck with a quick jab.

Chris has the height advantage, however, effortlessly leaning back to dodge. The punch barely grazes the air before him.

Aiden narrows his eyes.

“Ooo,” Jackson hisses. “So close!”

The crowd laughs, almost as one, before splitting between chants for each boxer.

Aiden, eager to recover, steps in quickly, unleashing a flurry of body shots aimed at Chris’s midsection.

You hold your breath and tighten your grip on Vinny’s arm.

But, Chris doesn't flinch. His arms, long and strong, keep Aiden at bay with precise blocks. The controlled ease of Chris’s movements highlight Aiden’s childish, tantrum-like fighting style. You can’t help wondering how the fuck Aiden made it this far. Perhaps other boxers can’t track the chaotic jabs as well as Chris does. Maybe they didn’t even try.

“Matthews is coming in hot, throwing quick combos, but Bahng is as cool as ice—deflecting every shot with ease!”

Chris, ever patient, waits for an opening. He keeps his elbows tucked in, movements minimal, letting Aiden expend energy. He evades each punch with swift swerves of his head, taking small steps back. Even hunched, crouched inwards, his frame still looms large over Aiden.

The majority of the crowd now chants Chris’s name, flooding the arena with jittery admiration.

Like a trigger, fast and smooth, Chris snaps forward with a sharp jab. The blow lands against Aiden’s guard, but the sheer strength of it forces him back.

“Bahng with the first real strike of the night!” Jackson shouts.

Aiden’s eyes widen. He finally feels the power, you realise, and his gaze floods with fear.

Jackson tosses the crowd a giddy look and gushes,“That jab was like a freight train!”

The crowd clamours with laughter in agreement.

You catch a ghost of a smile hovering over Chris’s lips. Is it insane that you find him even more attractive when he’s menacingly playful? An image of his face inches from yours, that same impression of a smile unable to settle on his lips, surfaces. Those feline eyes, teasing, daring, coaxing you to ride him.

You bite your lip and refocus your attention on the match.

Aiden resets and presses on. He bobs and weaves to avoid Chris’s long reach. Ducking low, he slips inside Chris’s defence to unleash a rapid combination of punches to the torso and a hook aimed at the chin.

Chris blocks the body blows then, all too calmly for someone being beat up, rolls with the hook, avoiding the brunt of it. That sinister smirk settles, oh so cunningly, curving the corners of his lips. Without delay, Chris counters with an uppercut from the right, the snap of his arms swift and steady.

Aiden only just manages to block it in time, but the impact leaves him rattled. He stumbles back with a loud grunt. Wheezing and regaining his footing, his eyes betray him, glowing with newfound respect for his towering opponent.

In awe, Jackson remarks, “Bahng is a mountain of patience—waiting for just the right moment to strike! Matthews is going to have to dig deep if he’s going to find a way in!”

You glance at the final seconds of the first round, glowing red above the ring. Less than thirty seconds remain.

Aiden, perhaps knowing he has to make a statement, launches a last-ditch effort. He levels a heavy left hook aimed at Chris’s side, almost mirroring the speed Chris recently displayed.

But Chris, as if seeing it in slow motion, smoothly side steps.

You gasp with the crowd.

He counters with a punishing fist aimed at Aiden’s temple. The punch connects cleanly, the crowd choking on their cheers. The thick sound echoes between the staggered shouts, twisting your stomach with unease.

Aiden stumbles towards the ropes, using their stability to keep himself standing.

The bell rings before Chris can issue another attack.

Jackson steps back into the ring. He eyes Aiden with wide eyes before sharing a look with the audience. “What a way to end the first round!” He laughs. “Bahng’s precision is something to behold, and Aiden Matthews has already felt the sting of that power! Can I get…”

The rest of his words fade as you fixate your attention on the boxers. Aiden returns to his corner with a shuffle of his feet. He’s drenched in sweat, face red and eyes tired. His coach wipes his face then squeezes some water into his mouth.

Chris leisurely walks to his seat. He wipes nose with his arm as he sits. Composed, unbothered, he stares his opponent down.

Aiden shifts in place.

You can’t help but do the same.

You’ve been wanting to leave since the fourth round.

You thought it was over when Chris landed an uppercut so sharp, you swear you heard Aiden’s jaw shatter. You watched as his eyes rolled back and he met the floor with a loud, echoing thump. Aiden’s team flinched, leering over the ropes only to be scolded by the referee.

Chris’s eyes gleamed with something ominous, standing over Aiden’s limp body. He tilted his head and tongued his cheek, lips heavy with the impression of a smirk. He doesn’t merely look proud, but gratified. You wondered at the time if he loves the splitting sound of a bone breaking just as much as you love the chambering click of a loaded gun.

But the crowd remained in the arena. Vinny gave you a reassuring look as if silently telling you it won’t be much longer, and the fifth round commenced.

Jackson returns ringside now, two more rounds later, announcing after the signal of the bell, “Round seven, folks, and this has been an all-out war! Aiden Matthews has been relentless, but Christopher Bahng’s defence is like a fortress!”

The crowd roars as Aiden and Chris step toward the centre of the ring again. Aiden, slick with sweat, jabs at the air, his face tense and determined. Chris, towering over him with his eyes ever so calm and calculating, bounces lightly on his feet.

As the audience resumes their chants for Chris, Aiden charges forward. He jabs with considerable speed and aggression. His punches are fast but painstakingly desperate. It’s almost embarrassing to witness, and you’re not even a fighter.

One glance at Chris and you catch his mask of cool flicker with hushed notions of pity, as if feeling sorry for his opponent. You scan his fighting stance, devouring his toned body with your eyes. His skin gleams with sweat and blotches of forming bruises. His left cheek holds a patch of purple; right brow split.

You swallow thickly, watching his muscles twist as he effortlessly weaves. He slips left, right, then ducks under an all too wide hook.

“Stay still, you fucker!” Aiden orders through gritted teeth, the microphones hovering over the ring catching every spit-splattered syllable.

Chris faintly smiles, eyes locking on Aiden's. He moves just enough to miss another jab by mere inches, dancing around the ring like he has all the time in the world. He then jumps high, resembling a kangaroo, once, twice, only to circle the ring again.

The buzzing energy of the crowd grows, their cheers building as if Chris’s little gesture is any indication of a shift in the round.

The screens cut to Jackson. He swallows thickly as his eyes track Chris’s movements then comments,“Matthews is giving it everything he’s got, but Bahng…” he takes a moment to let out a whistle, “Bahng is like a ghost out there! Just out of reach!”

Aiden presses harder, frustration creeping in as he tries to close the distance. He throws heavy hooks and uppercuts.

You almost scoff, wondering why he hasn’t learned yet. His efforts are useless against someone as skilled as Chris. Truly a phantom in the ring, Chris’s footwork is flawless, always just a step ahead, and he barely reacts.

He then ever so slightly adjusts his stance, leaving an opening wide for Aiden to pounce.

You furrow your brows.

Jackson voices his concern too, narrowing his eyes. “Is Bahng showing weakness?” He asks as if he cannot believe it himself. Then his eyes widen. “Matthews sees it—he’s going for it!”

Aiden lunges forward, hurling all his power into a swift right hook toward the exposed side.

However, as steady as his opponent commits to the punch, Chris sidesteps with speed that rivals lightning, and counters with a sharp left jab that snaps Aiden’s head back.

You stand again with Vinny, both gasping with the crowd. A hand flies to your mouth as you watch Aiden stagger back.

“OH!” Jackson beams, “Bahng saw that coming from a mile away!”

Chris is relentless. He moves in smoothly, landing a quick, precise combination—jab, cross, uppercut—that sends Aiden stumbling backward.

Aiden’s guard falters.

Chris steps forward. He drives a thunderous right hook straight into Aiden’s gut.

Aiden gasps for air, the force buckling.

Chris, collected and focused, steps back, allowing Aiden a moment to gather himself.

Your eyes widen at the pacifying gesture, wondering what he has to gain by giving his opponent a chance to strike again.

All thoughts cease within seconds as Chris feints an attack. It draws Aiden’s guard up high only for Chris to slip low and deliver a devastating body blow, placed perfectly under the ribs.

Aiden groans, dropping to a knee. The air is completely knocked out of him.

The referee stands over his kneeling frame, counting, “One!”

The crowd erupts with excitement, some jumping as they cheer for Chris, while others remain shackled in disbelief as Aiden tries to regain his strength.

“Two.”

Jackson is rocking in place, jittery with joy as he enthuses,“Bahng is not just beating Matthews—he’s outthinking him! Every move is a step ahead, like he’s reading Aiden’s mind!”

“Three.”

Aiden is wobbly, but pulls himself back to his feet. He shakes his head, attempting to refocus. You suppose that Jackson’s comment must have struck a cord because Aiden looks as though he is done thinking. He lunges again, impulsive and messy.

Chris is undeterred by the chaos Aiden becomes, this time feinting a right cross.

Aiden’s guard flies to the right. Then, Chris pivots and delivers a clean left hook to his temple.

“What a move!”Jackson praises. “Bahng’s precision is surgical!”

Aiden collapses against the ropes.

Chris steps back, watching, waiting.

The stillness of Aiden’s muscular frame worries the referee. He steps in, leaning by Aiden’s side to get a better look.

The camera pans over his swollen, bloody face. You cringe.

The referee stands back to his full height to wave his arms, calling, “It’s over! It’s over!”

The crowd explodes into catastrophic cheers upon the referee’s decree.

Chris raises his gloves in triumph and pride. While he is well within his right to gloat, and perhaps has done so before based on the fact that you know he likes to show off, he remains composed. The only emotion hinting towards elation is in the lightness of his gaze as he looks around the arena at his fans. He nods to them, lips finally curving into a smile.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was shy.

Jackson returns to the centre of the ring. He gestures his hands towards Chris, encouraging the howls of the crowd. “Christopher Bahng has done it again!” He says, smiling fondly at Chris. “Not just with power, not just with speed, but with pure brilliance in this ring. He’s shown everyone why he’s the undefeated champion!”

You don’t get a chance to revel at the sight of Chris stiffening as Jackson holds his arms out wide for a hug. Vinny tugs on your arm instead, nodding his head towards the exit. You keep your arms linked and stay close as he pushes between the manic crowd for you.

“Explain yourself,” Vinny orders the moment you’re back on the street.

You look over your shoulder at the entrance of the arena, then whisper, “Not here.”

Vinny rolls his eyes but starts walking towards your apartment. After three blocks of silence, he says, “Talk.”

“I was looking for yo—”

“Don’t bullshit me,” he seethes, cutting you off. “How the fuck did you know Matthews would lose? It’s been fixed for the last week.”

“Just listen to me,” you plead, raising your voice. “When I was waiting for you in the alley, I heard some things.”

Vinny shoots you a nervous look.

You continue, “One of those things was that there were back halls that go around the entire arena. I really was looking for you in there, Vinny. You left me to fend for myself and those people were hard to squeeze through. So, I found one of the doors. And— listen, I know you’re gonna be mad at me, but I really thought it would be easier this way.”

His face falls into disappointment. “You lied.”

“I lied,” you confess, avoiding his gaze as you continue down the street. “I told the guy at the door that Chris—”

“You call him Chris?” Vinny interrupts, voice heavy with astonishment.

“Well—”

Vinny cuts you off with your name and a shake of his head. “No, no, you don’t understand,” he humorlessly chuckles. “No one but his inner circle calls him Chris. What the fuck did you do?”

“I told the guy at the door that I was his prostitute. It was only supposed to get me in so I could find you.”

“You didn’t,” Vinny says. Upon the guilty look in your eyes, he closes his own and sighs, “You fucked him?”

“Not exactly,” you hesitantly correct. “He’s really hot, okay? And he was really nice to me, and I don’t know if you know this,” you sarcastically start. “But not many people have been lately.”

Vinny offers you a vulgar gesture.

You roll your eyes. “I just told him what I heard and he needed convincing.”

“You fucked him,” Vinny concludes.

“Do you think I would be able to walk right now if I did?”

You try not to laugh as Vinny’s features coil in disgust. Parting your lips, you’re about to tell him that it doesn’t matter now. Chris is fine, the Sixers didn’t lose a dime and you can finally get that bath you have been craving earlier this evening.

However, the shriek of tires pierce through the silent night instead.

Vinny reaches for his gun, pushing you behind him. You go to grab your own only to remember you don’t have one. The switchblade will have to do if running is not an option.

A black van speeds down the street, darting past you to swerve onto the sidewalk and block your path. Seungmin jumps out of the passenger seat. Icy-hair and another tall, dark haired man, whose features remarkably resemble that of a fox, emerge from the back.

Vinny cocks his gun.

“Wait,” you shout, stepping between them. You hold your hands up, giving Vinny your most reassuring look. “I know them,” you explain.

Looking amongst the intruders, Vinny furrows his brows and asks, “How?”

“They’re Chris’s friends,” you reply, quietly adding, “I think.”

Vinny glares. “You think?”

“Walk away,” a deep voice orders.

Icy-hair steps forward with a gun of his own. However, he is not aiming it at Vinny.

You deadpan. “Did he tell you to do this? God, is he always this dramatic?”

“Tell me about it,” Seungmin mutters, then nods towards the van. “Get in.”

Turning to Vinny, you offer him a small, assuring smile. “I’m fine, Vin. Just go.”

Vinny scoffs, narrowing his eyes in disbelief at you. “He has a gun to your head.”

“Chris is an egoistic, attention-seeker,” you dismiss. “If they wanted to shoot me, they would have done so already.”

“How can you be sure?” Vinny shouts.

Chk chk boom, you think. Your brains would have already been splattered on the sidewalk.

Nodding behind him, you repeat, “Go. I’ll call you later.”

Vinny shakes his head, clenching his jaw and directing his frustrated gaze to the ground. As if wrestling his intuition, he resentfully lowers and uncocks his gun. He takes another look around at the men, swallowing thickly.

You wonder if they know he’s trying to memorise their faces. You wonder if they care.

“If you die,” Vinny says, voice wavering. “I will kill you.”

You suppress a laugh, tightening your lips. “Good.”

He breaths a baffled chuckle, gives you one final look, then forces himself to walk away

You turn to face the others, or at least you’re in the process of turning.

A black bag slips over your head. Arms pulled back, hands bound, you attempt to struggle against their grip. Too slow, your squirming does not distract them. Someone hooks their arms under your shoulders, another scoops up your legs. Heart pounding, you release a searing scream, attempting to wrangle your way out of their grasp. You kick and try to flail your arms, grunting as you fight against their hold. The three men look strong, but they are nothing compared to Chris. You doubt only two of them can maintain their grip this well when you feel another set of hands, then another.

Vinny shouts your name.

Your body is tossed into the back. You land with a loud groan, cursing at the impact of the pain.

He shouts your name again, the hard stomp of his feet echoing in the street.

A bullet sounds.

No, no, no—

“No!” You desperately scream. “Vinny!”

Tears gather in your eyes. This is all your fault. It goes beyond sticking your nose in business you had no right knowing. Since that day he found you back on the streets, hustling scammers out of their well-stolen money, you have dragged Vinny into your hole of reckless misfortune. You asked him to bail you out of one too many fuck-ups, forcing him to further implicate himself in your thoughtless schemes, often against the advice and support of his gang. He has risked his reputation, relationships, money, his good fucking sense, all in the name of childhood friendship.

And how do you repay him?

With a bullet.

Lip quivering, you ask between sobs, “Did you shoot him?”

You never deserved kindness. You never deserved freedom. You never even deserved compassion.

You are a tornado of vile anguish, a chaotic force of impulse and betrayal. You are a waste of space, your very existence is a curse set upon your parents. You should have known as much when the universe tore them away. You are not worthy of connections— all your friends withering in the wake of your misfortune.

What compelled you to believe that Chris would be any different? He might have been devastatingly beautiful and the look in his eyes might have continuously hinted at something tragically scarred. His kisses might have breathed new life into your soul, hands might have cradled every nightmare to rest. But he is still a victim of your calamity. You should have known a good feeling never lasts.

The back door slides shut. The engine revs, jolting the van into motion.

“Did you fucking shoot him?” You cry, voice breaking as a sob overwhelms you. “Vinny!”

Please forgive me, you want to scream.

“Shut up!” Someone shouts over you. You move to kick the speaker only for someone to grab hold of your ankles and bind them together too.

“He shot at us.” The same speaker clarifies. “And he has terrible aim for a self-appointed hero.”

Relief washes over you, ice-cold upon your trembling bones. You lean back, embracing the pain of the awkward position of your hands under you.

“He told us to knock her out,” Seungmin says, voice slightly distant. He must have returned to his place in the front seat.

“He did?” Icy-hair’s deep voice replies.

“I don’t think so,” someone else adds.

You lay limp amongst the shuffling of movements, ignoring their argument, too lost in thought to care. Though Vinny is alive, it does not alter the epiphany that has just dawned upon you— You inevitably ruin anyone foolish enough to come too close.

The edge of the bag lifts and a damp cloth presses against your mouth.

You embrace the darkness.

PART II ➡︎

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other reader. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work.

#chantober 2024 #bang chan #bang chan smut #bang chan x reader #bang chan fanfic #stray kids smut

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mylovesstuffs · 23 days ago

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OT13 reaction to having a cute, strong s/o who also loves to eat

Requested by @moonygrim : Hi Celeste 😊, I hope you’re doing well 💕.

I saw that your requests were open and decided to send one in.

So I was just wondering if you could write a reaction to Seventeen having a strong cute SO who maybe likes to eat a lot. I know it’s a little of a weird one but I thought I would send it anyways since seeing something like that would mean a lot to me.

Thank you 💕.

A/N: tysm for trusting me with something so personal. representation matters, and i’m honored to help you feel seen through this one 🫶🏼 you deserve to be adored just as you are, muscle and all 💜 /// the requester included some personal experiences, which i chose not to share publicly out of respect for their privacy. the prompt above is the main request

Head-over-heels in awe of your strength [and your appetite] — Seungcheol, Dokyeom, Mingyu, Dino

These boys are starstruck. No other word for it. Seungcheol practically glows watching you lift something heavy without breaking a sweat. He calls you his ‘supergirl’ and brags about how ”his girl carried the groceries like they were feathers.” Mingyu is so whipped it’s ridiculous. You flex once and he’s making heart eyes, mumbling, “You’re so cool, what the heck.” If you’re both at a buffet? You’re tag-teaming! Dokyeom LOVES that you eat with joy. He’s always encouraging you to get seconds, and if you ever say “I think I ate too much,” he’s shaking his head like: “No such thing. Let’s go for dessert” 🍮 And Dino's a baby in love. He looks at you like you hung the moon, especially when you slightly lift him up jokingly or beat him in arm wrestling. That’s his dream girl.

Totally smitten, totally supportive — Jeonghan, Hoshi, Woozi, Seungkwan

Jeonghan low-key teases you at first, “should I be the little spoon tonight?” but it’s all affection. He genuinely finds your strength super attractive and hot and secretly loves it when you protect him from fans or push open a jammed door like it’s nothing. Woozi’s too chill to say much, but he’s proud and kind of turned on. His eyes linger when you’re focused, the small smiles when you eat with gusto — it’s all there. Seungkwan is OBSESSED. You’re his superhero. He’ll film you carrying heavy bags just to show people how cool you are. And when you’re eating happily, he's literally matching your pace and feeding you bites of his plate. Hoshi’s your #1 cheerleader, “LOOK AT HER BICEPS!!!” he’ll yell in the group chat after you open a kimchi jar he couldn’t. He’ll act all dramatic but only because, he’s so, so into you.

Extremely respectful of your body and your confidence — Joshua, Jun, Wonwoo, Minghao

Joshua’s the type to look at your arms while you’re lifting something and ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ say, “You’re really strong,” with the kindest, most genuine admiration. He loves that you’re strong and soft; his safe space. Wonwoo finds strength incredibly sexy. You might be stronger than him, and he loves that. He’s quiet, but if you ever express insecurity, he’ll look you straight in the eye and say, “you’re beautiful. Exactly as you are.” and shut all that nonsensical stuff in your head. Jun will 100% ask you to teach him workouts. You two will have gym dates, and he’ll compliment your form every time. He loves your body and the way you love food, it’s all part of what makes you you. Hao sees your strength as elegance. He’s inspired by your control, your discipline, and how at peace you are with yourself [because he doesn't let you you live with insecurities]. If someone makes a comment about your build, he’ll politely but firmly shut it down, “she’s stronger than your fragile ego. Let’s go babe.” [UFF, I LOVE HIM 😌]

Obsessed in the most Vernon way — Vernon

Vernon’s reaction is understated, but make no mistake: he’s in awe of you. You casually carry something heavy or pop open a stuck bottle cap, and he just blinks like, “wait. That was kinda hot.” He admires your strength silently, but with so much pride. He doesn’t gush, but he just shows it in lowkey ways: asking you to spot him at the gym, letting you finish his fries because you love them, or wordlessly handing you his hoodie when he notices you’re cold after a workout. And if anyone ever says anything rude about your build or appetite, he’s not shouting and screaming and challenging to fight him, but he’s sharp. He’ll cut in calmly, firmly, “she’s literally perfect. You good?”

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starsandsuch · 11 months ago

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Astro Observations pt 7 📚

Short & sweet , random thoughts i recently had. Both Vedic & Tropical observations!!!

1. Aries and Pisces are naturally great at fashion. A lot of the fashion “it” girlshave these signs in their big 3.

2. Sagittarius gain a lot of power in and life and accumulate a lot of wealth

3. 3rd house placements are usually end up having a lot of success in life, since the 3rd house is our courage and bravery, they never let setbacks block them for to long

4. Sagittarius naturally have great athletic ability

5. Gemini placements are just as “lucky” as Sag placements. Jupiter works in their favor a lot too

6. Benefic planets in the 7th house gives one a great reputation (Jupiter, Moon, Venus, Mercury)

7. Finding a long term relationship is harder for people who dont have Venusian influence on their 7th house at all.

8. Someone with Venus in the 7th, or Venus ruling the 7th thrive with partnership since that’s Venus’ desired position.

9. Jupiter is not great for monogamous relationships. Jupiter’s influence on the 7th house makes it so one always has options in love, making it hard to settle with one person.

10. Jyesthas and Ardras derive a lot of ego from being “hardworking” they often criticize others for being lazy or not working hard enough, which is kinda true. Their work ethic is unmatched.

11. The laziest nakshatra is Purva Phalguni. They’ll do anything to get out of doing work, including fake illnesses. They work hard only toward a their creative projects though.

12. Someone check on Jupiterians. They’re always taking care of everyone but usually don’t get that same energy back.

13. Which signs /nakshatras/planets are the most “s3xual” ? I think it could be the Lunarians or Mercurials.

14. Nodal people are usually attracted to other nodal people. The same way venusians are “cliquey” Rahuvians and Ketuvians can be too.

-starsandsuch✌️💕

Previous Astro observations

#astrology #vedic astrology #tropical astrology #gemini #aries #purva phalguni #ardra #jyestha #sagittarius #rohini #astrology observations #starsandsuch #2024

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thatsexcpisces · 6 months ago

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My least favorite placements (personal opinion)

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃

• please remember that these are just my personal takes and observations mostly based on people I’ve met/know and if it doesn’t apply to you, it’s most likely aimed at the undeveloped versions of the placement! 💕

#1: Virgo moons

I’m sorry I have way too many people in my life with this placement (especially family members) and y’all just know how to get under people’s skin. Every virgo moon I’ve met seems to physically be unable to hold back their unwanted opinions and criticism. Y’all will serve the meanest comment on a silver platter when no one asked or wanted to hear that shit in the first place and then label it as “just being honest/trying to help” like nah you’re just straight up being annoying. So many virgo moons are also control freaks and want to project their routines and habits onto other people and enforce all their little rules onto them and expect everyone to accommodate them and their needs without considering other people’s needs. Also, this placement tends to be very insecure with themselves and their own inner critics so must of the time they also protect their insecurities onto other people cause they can’t fix them within themselves and that’s probably also why they dish out little snarky critiques to the people around them. They can also be way too pessimistic and “conservative” which gets on my nerves sm like you take these people somewhere on a night out and they complain about the music being “too loud” or people “talking too much and being annoying” like chill Karen. Stop trying to be a perfectionist babe, it’s okay to make mistakes

#2: Venus/sun/stellium in the 10H

Having this placement on its own in your natal chart is a blessing in a sense because you may receive a lot of good luck when it comes to your public reputation and people like you but personally, I feel like being around people with this placement isn’t as great. A lot of people I know with this placement tend to come off as superficial or “social climbers” who use others for career and reputation benefits. These are the types of friends that will ditch you if you’re not popular enough or if people are gossiping about you because they want to make themselves look good and will ignore you in public but then be your bestie in private cause they don’t wanna be seen with you. They also only seem to always talk about their image or what other people think about them. For example, I know people with this placement who would complain about their social media or followers every time we hung out. They would always complain about losing followers or why they can’t “have enough followers” and what to do to gain many. I had friends with this placement who would also ask for a lot but never give in return and put themselves on a high pedestal thinking they are constantly worthy of praise or deeds from others. On the downside, these people may put a false mask to the public. They can appear as kind and good-hearted when in reality they may not be that way and know how to manipulate in order to get what they want.

#3: Leo/Sag mercuries

I will say that these people are super fun and know how to tell the best stories and they are also very good at making people feel included in their life. However, on the flipside people with this placement seem to live in a world that is only made for them and only has space for them to be in. I’ve met so many ppl with Leo & sag mercuries and it always seems so hard for them to acknowledge the fact that other people have feelings too and what they say can hurt others. They just think of themselves as the main character most of the time which when they do it excessively, it becomes really annoying. I feel like people with this placement just don’t have the ability to be introspective and reflect on their actions and things they say to understand if maybe someone took it the wrong way or if they’re being too much. They also have little to no patience or tolerance when someone else is speaking and they find it impossible to let someone tell their full story without interrupting or sharing something about themself like it’s okay to let others have the spotlight for once (Im a Leo moon so I’m lowkey dragging myself a bit here). Also similar to virgo moons, they may make rude or “honest” comments because they are very direct and when someone expresses that it hurts them, they get super defensive and fail to see it from another person’s perspective. Also talking louder doesn’t mean you won the argument

#4: Gemini Venus

Please figure out what you want omdssss. Being in a relationship with these people is not for the weak let me tell you. I have an Aquarius Venus so in some aspects I get along well with Gemini Venus but in others it’s like I can never read their mind and they’re constantly changing it every 5 seconds. You would expect these people to be very good and open communicators since they’re associated w mercury but most of the time it just feels like they’re on a non-stop adventure with whatever their brain tells them to do and you just have to guess what they want and do it or they’ll get bored of you and ghost you. I know y’all need constant mental stimulation but I feel like most of the time the other person is offering that to you but you just want an excuse to get with someone else. CHEATERS. Especially the men with this placement. Options exist and y’all love that. Also in general and with friends these people can be very flakey they’ll make it feel like you’re their best friend one day then you barely know them the next.

#5: Moon square Mars or Pluto/moon in the 8H

These people know how to get what they want and can be incredibly manipulative. Be careful and try not to play their game cause once you do, it’s a never-ending mind fuck. Many people I know with this placement are the definition of “secret opps” or your “secret haters”. They most likely have a lot of unresolved baggage or problems so they look for any opportunity to hurt someone else and take it out on them (when the placement is unhealthy/undeveloped ofc). Also, this placement to me screams “evil/narcissist” mother. These people probably had a mother that was really controlling or emotionally toxic and they grew up repeating her habits and will continue to act just like her. My step sister has one of these placements and she would do whatever manipulative things her mother put in her head, to other people and report back to her like a dog. These people are usually completely blinded and owned by their mothers. They’ve most likely had life on hard mode and they resent anyone who’s had things going better for them and they find it hard to be happy and supportive of others. Everytime I see this placement in someone’s birth chart, I know not to share too many details with them or trust them that easily cause they know how to hide and are calculated with betraying you.

#6: Cancer Sun

Idk some of them just rub me the wrong way. It really depends on their other placements but usually cancer suns with air placements in their chart get on my nerves cause they can be so passive aggressive and when you meet them at first glance you get this vibe that they’re trying their best to be fake nice to you but they secretly have it out for you. These people are moody asf bonus points if they have a water rising and when you ask them what’s wrong they’ll just sulk in silence and have an attitude until you actively do something to give them attention or make things better. These people also hold a grudge for life and sometimes over the dumbest and smallest things. They’re the type of people to dedicate their whole life to hating you cause you accidentally bumped into them when walking past them. Also their victim mentality is so tiring, they constantly seek attention and validation over small things and have a hard time taking accountability for their actions and admitting they were wrong.

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helslastangel · 1 year ago

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MASTERLIST&MORE ❀˚₊

Hey! 🪷

I’m Luna (she/her), a fiction writer, poet, chart reader, and part-time agent of chaos. I am a Virgo Sun, Capricorn Moon, and Leo Rising, which means I give solid advice that I promptly forget and never follow myself.

I moonlight as a certified pain the ass by day and write poetry and fiction over at @antih3roine by night.

Astrology’s been my #1 hyperfixation for over 15 years, and this blog is where I put all the unfiltered, poetic, petty, or possibly cursed things I’ve noticed about placements, synastry, and the celestial beans that we are.

You'll see non-astrology posts from time to time. Sometimes, I yap just to yap. I got fifty tabs open in my phone and brain at all times. ENTP skill issue. Thank you for your patience 😘

This masterlist includes:

🌌 Synastry breakdowns (some helpful, some hostile)

🕷️ Random astro observations

🌸 Planet, sign, and asteroid lore

🧠 Neurodivergent musings

> 📍Current Status:

Deciding whether I'm a girly girl or an honorary boy today.

Virgo ☀️ ☆ Capricorn 🌙 ☆ Leo 🌄 ☆ Scorpio ♀️

❀˚₊ a few of my favorite tumblr peeps ♡

@bijoutarot 》 @blueskiestarot 》 @eternalpisces 》 @elysiansparadise 》 @harmoonix 》 @inaccuratelybiblicalangel 》 @karmicbitchastro 》 @learnastrowallura 》 @lilianne-tarot》 @mxrcurysb1tch 》 @sagittariusmarz 》 @starryastrologysworld 》 @tarotbyjam24 》 @thetarotyapper

❀˚₊ don't forget to follow & support ☆

A few (of many) synastry aspects for attraction ❤️

Blaming my personality on my parents' placements 🤡

Capricorn moons aren't emotional 🤔

Dating a Scorpio rising 🦂

Frenemy & FWB synastry aspects 💥

How would you describe yourself using your big 3? 🤔

I have (multiple) obsessions, and they're gay af 🌈

Indicators of Androgeny in Astrology

I put Pisces men in rice 🍚

Meet my musical idols (and their big 5s) 🎤

My favorite perfumes as synastry aspects🧴

Placements that need to know everything 🧠

Placements that enjoy dark humor 💀

Synastry in my personal connections 💕

The signs as past situationships 🚫 😮‍💨

What the enneagram types want you to know 📝

What the signs struggle with on a daily basis 😔

Why synastry doesn't work without your birth time ⏰️

You may be attracted to foreigners if ✈️

Zodiac Tech Support 🖥

More posts >

Random Placement Observations

Random Observations #1

Random Observations #2

Random Observations #3

Random Observations #4

Random Observations #5

Random Observations #6

Random Observations #7

Random Observations #8

Random Observations #9

Random Observations #10

^_^

Mini Observations #1

Mini Observations #2

Mini Observations #3

Mini Observations #4

Mini Observations #5

Mini Observations #6 🔞🌶

Mini Observations #7

About Water Sign Junos

Asteroid Observations

Aries Juno Observations ♈️ 🐏

Aquarius Juno Observations ♒️ 🏺

Cancer Juno Observations ♋️ 🦀

Capricorn Juno Observations ♑️ 🐐

Chiron Conjunct Lilith Synastry 🖤

Chiron in 7H synastry (poem) 🥀

Gemini Juno Observations ♊️ 👬

Leo Juno Observations ♌️ 🦁

Libra Juno Observations ♎️ ⚖️

Lilith Conjunct Ascendant in Friendship Synastry

Pisces Juno Observations ♓️ 🐟

Scorpio Juno Observations ♏️ 🦂

Sagittarius Juno Observations ♐️ 🏹

Taurus Juno Observations ♉️ 🐂

Virgo Juno Observations ♍️ 💃🏽

Virgos, this is for you ♍️

Vesta in the Signs

Your core desires, according to Chiron 🖤

Your deepest fears according to Chiron 🖤

Your hidden fear according to Black Moon Lilith 🌚

Your ideal self-care routine according to Ceres 🌸

Aquarius in 8th House

Capricorn in 7th House

Capricorn stellium in the 12th house

Compatibility Observations: Capricorn Moon

Compatibility Observations: Sagittarius Moon

Dominant 1st House/Ascendant

How you enjoy yourself according to the 5th House

How to be ethically manipulative by sun, moon, & ascendant

How you relieve stress, according to Mars

How you speak according to Mercury, pt. 1 - Earth

How you speak according to Mercury, pt. 2 - Fire

Libra mars men, Gemini mars women, Sag mars enbies

Mars in 1H & 7H Synastry: From My Experiences 🔞 🌶

Moon Conj. Venus/Moon Trine Ascendant Synastry 🔞🌶

Moon Sign Observations

My Darling Aries ♈️

My Darling Taurus ♉️

My Darling Geminis ♊️

My Darling Cancers ♋️

My Darling Leos ♌️

My Darling Virgos ♍️

My Darling Scorpios ♏️

Neptune (2H) Sextile North Node (4H) 📧

Pisces in the Houses

Pluto Conjunct Lilith Natal

Sagittarius in 6th House

Same sign ascendant pairs as friends 🔞🌶

Scorpio in 5th House

Sun & Moon Observations

Sun sign pairs that work in relationships

Venus Conjunct Ascendant Synastry 💕

What makes the planets feel insecure

What Saturn fears most in the houses

What you need according to your moon sign

What you want to do according to Mars

Your best matches according to moon sign

Your eyes according to your chart ruler

Your good and bad sides according to your Big 3

Your lowest priorities according to empty houses

Your main area of focus according to the planets

Your most likely health issues according to the signs

Your most vulnerable areas according to the signs

Your empty houses in astrology

𓆩♡𓆪

Thank you for stopping by ♡

#masterlist #astrology tumblr #helslastangel #astrology blog #astrology #astrology observations #astrology notes

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y0urfav0r1te-girl · 4 months ago

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Hello I'm Lexi !!!

Some music I like includes : Lana del Rey, Marina and the diamonds, Sky Ferreira , Halsey , Taylor Swift, the pretty reckless, Ethel Cain, Florence+ the machine, kerli, Nicole dollanganger, Lorde, Melanie Martinez, arctic monkeys, hole , no doubt ,mazzy star, Nirvana, mars Argo, Lady Gaga, Madonna , ke$ha , Gwen Stefani, Katy Perry, Sabrina Carpenter, chappell roan, Charli XCX, carly rae jepsen, Nicki Minaj ,Britney Spears, the Veronicas, Ariana grande, Hannah Montana, Hilary Duff, Rhianna ,she and him , Fleetwood Mac,Fiona apple, Avril Lavigne, Paramore, new years day , evanescence, my chemical romance,green day, silverstein , millionaires,all time low, the medic droid, bring me the horizon, taking back Sunday, get scared, asking Alexandria, picture me broken, the academy is , snow whites poison bite, brokencyde,dot dot curve, bring me the horizon,the killers , panic at the disco, black veil brides , fall out boy,mayday parade , Pierce the veil, breathe Carolina (and A LOT MORE !!!)

Some media I enjoy is : American horror story, scream queens, skins UK, gossip girl , new girl , pretty little liars, girl interrupted, black swan , NANA, sailor moon, the Virgin suicides, twilight , Jennifer's body, monster high ,bBratz, (I collect both).(I like a lot of 2000s / early 2010s media especially girly media.)

Some aesthetics I like/ have been include: 2014 Tumblr girl, twee, Tumblr grunge, girl blogger core, vintage aesthetics, coquette, pastel, hipster, emo / scene, skater, and a LOT MORE!!!

Alt account that I don't use : @light-me-up-lexi

My best friend for life ever(i know irl and is the best ever ) 💕 : @starthesadcat

@hauntedrose555 my number one girl ilhsm

Cute people/girlsquad members /favs : @cemetarybabyyy @4ngelicbunny @viharmons @l0v3r-g1rl-0nl1n3 @jo-the-cosmic-being @mortuarydolls @minna456 @sc3n3-b1tch @sourhibiscuss @evansg1rl @luvleyangeldust @s33th1ngg @rebsprettygirl @rh1nest0neluvvsu @miss-sweet-dreams @noideamyguy @dearlizzies @z0mb1eeg1rll @merrydoe @mentallylivingin2000s @rottingsleepydoll @logic4l @doelette777 @smarty1949 @heartzforyouxoxo @thesimplecuntlife @zero-days-left-to-live @vvermillion666 @smiggles4000 @kartdeko @idontliketopoeticize @m1ss1n9-b1u3s @emobarbi3xoxo @artemis-melody @virgincurse

@xyzaurax my Blair 🤍

This blog is a safe space except if ur a creep no DNI I block people who dislike me tho!!!

I would describe myself as : just a girl who is overall pretty normal but occasionally sad and posts about it I'm overall very kind I just face heartbreak a lot I LOVE MY GIRL MUTUALS !!! and keep in mind I do post about disliking men / having a resentment towards them because they have not treated me the best in life however that never includes my male mutuals you guys are sweet

Signing off bang bang kiss kiss !!!

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a-shade-of-blue · 8 months ago

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Can you also spare a few dollars for Mahmoud's 17 family members in Gaza? It has been especially difficult for Mahmoud's family, especially since Mahmoud's campaign is struggling to get attention because Tumblr keeps taking down and shadowbanning his accounts! There are 10 children, including 3 infants in Mahmoud's family, and it has been an especially hard year for them where every day is a fight for survival. Donations have stopped for Mahmoud's campaign since Tumblr took down his latest account!

What little food they have is spoiled, and the 10 children are constantly suffering from stomachache and diarrhea as a result. There are also 3 infants with them. Mahmoud's sister almost lost her life giving birth a few months ago in the middle of this genocide, and she is still suffering from various infections due to the difficult birth! However, they need help buying both medical supplies and food because everything in Gaza is very expensive right nwo!

Please don't let Tumblr silence these 10 children's cries for help! They just want to survive! This really shouldn't be too much to ask for!!

Mahmoud's campaign is #3 on @/gaza-evacuation-funds vetted list here, #117 on @/gazavetters vetted list, vetted by bilal-salah0, and vetted by association!

Only 1 donation in the past 7 days!!

Only $4,788 CAD raised of $80K goal (6%)! And Mahmoud's has been raising funds for 6 months now!!

Mahmoud just made a new account, please follow him here: @mahmoudfamily7

tagging for reach

@c-rberus @headspace-hotel @certifiedsexed @bruciemilf @cutecipher @nerves-nebula @augustheart @ihavegaysex42069 @dailyquests @rennybu @chappellrroan @mesetacadre @ballwizard@zamanassad @wayneradiotv @jihaad @mxwhore @sealbf @moveslikekeithrichards @andva-ri @crispy6usiness @peskypawz @loverbearbutch @labutansa @tieflingkisser @milfygerard @tobercat @ladycelebrianofimladris @cupiidzbow @jesncin @fuckgimp @forgetfulrecord @thatsonehellofabird @aflamethatneverdies @thedigitalbard @lesbincineroar @franollie @mugenfinder @bubblybloob @galaxynajma @sporesgalaxy @finnickodaiir @pigswithwings @certifiedsexed

@psychotic-gerard @mavigator @communistkenobi @socalgal @chilewithcarnage

@ghelgheli @determinate-negation @papasmoke @deepspaceboytoy @omegaversereloaded@paper-mario-wiki @mangocheesecakes@sayruq

@xinakwans @givemearmstopraywith @loombreaking @killy @deathlonging

@palms-upturned @blackpearlblast @littlegermanboy @loveaankilaq @sar-soor

@fridgebride @27-moons @tamarrud @familyabolisher @fleshdyk3

@palipunk @gothhabiba @punkitt-is-here@stil-lindigo@halalchampagnesocialist @spooksier @jonahmagnus @artemis-pendragon @lesbian-hannibal @hazem-khalil @murderbot

#mahmoudfamily7 #free palestine #free gaza

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moonchild701 · 8 months ago

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⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑

Party Animal

⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑

[NSFW] ‼ 18+ >MDNI<

Summary: At a Halloween Party, you meet the big, bad wolf, and he eats you up.

Pairing: Dabi/Fem Reader

Content Warning: Smut, Rough Sex, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Biting, Kinda Crack, Horrible puns, Roleplay-ish, Costumes

Word Count: 3.7k

Disclaimer: Character belongs to Kohei Horikoshi

A/N: This is for a Halloween Challenge in one of the communities here on Tumblr. I used four prompts from the challenge, plus my own for funsies, so I'll be posting every Thursday up to and including Halloween.

Prompt: Werewolf & Halloween Party

Enjoy!💕

My Masterlist

⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑

You and your friend are at a Halloween party, both decked out in your costumes.

She'd somehow convinced you to agree to dress up in matching costumes, but you both look hot so you're not complaining.

Black combat boots adorn your feet, white thigh high stockings beneath, leaving only a thin line of skin visible between them and the frilly red skirts of the dresses that barely cover your asses. The skirts are fluffy, with white lace tulle giving them a nice, puffed shape, while the top, white and ruffled, with black ribbons, accentuate your figures, your breasts especially; the red capes wrapped around your necks, hoods down, framing them and complimenting the red of the skirts.

The final piece for your costume is looped loosely over the crook of your elbow; a cute little purse made to look like a basket, with a pretty white bow on the handle.

Music pulsing through the house, the scents of smoke, sweat and alcohol in the air is almost too much. You haven't really drank much yet, with it being pretty early on, but you decide to head outside for a bit of time away and some fresh air.

Your friend is in good hands, hanging out and chatting with a classmate of hers, someone dressed as Spiderman, so you let her know where you're going, and you're on your way.

On the way out, you see your friend and host, Todoroki Shouto, dressed as a vampire, talking to someone you can't see, so you move on to the backdoor.

There are a few people lounging around out here, some smoking, some just chatting with drinks in their hands. The quieter atmosphere is calming, and you hum as you take a sip of your third drink of the night.

You hear the door open again behind you, but you pay it no mind, until you hear a voice next to you.

"Hey there, Little Red," His voice is husky and low, and familiar. You turn to the source of it, seeing Shouto's older brother.

Todoroki Touya.

You feel your heart stutter. You of course know him, becoming not quite friends, but more acquaintances over the time of being friends with Shouto.

And of course, you've had a pathetic little crush on him for almost as long as you've known him.

"Hey." You reply, taking in his costume.

He has black wolf ears atop his head, perfectly blending in with his wild, dyed midnight hair, and a fluffy black tail clipped to the back loop of his distressed jeans. His red and black plaid shirt is untucked, with the top buttons undone, and sleeves rolled up, giving him a subtle disheveled look, while having his tattoos along his forearms, neck and shoulders on full display; piercings shining in the low light of the convenient full moon.

You look over Touya's werewolf costume, and purse your lips. "Cute. We match....Kinda."

"I'm so glad you noticed," he says, grin fittingly wolfish. "I noticed and just wanted to take a bite."

You just know the asshole waited for you to sip at your drink to say that, because the little shit laughs when you nearly choke on your drink. You glare at him as you clear your throat, which just has Touya snickering. You huff indignantly, ready to leave before he says anymore nonsense.

But of course, he opens his mouth again.

"What, scared of the big, bad wolf?" he drawls, looming closer; eyes and teeth glinting.

You scoff, rolling your eyes, not moving and hoping he can't tell how flustered you are at his proximity. "You wish."

"Oh?" he says, all smug amusement, as he shifts close enough to whisper in your ear. "I could just eat... you... up."

You swallow thickly. The things he's saying are cheesy as hell, and a part of you finds it hilarious. But the more prominent part is focused on the way his voice sounds in your ear, the feel of his warm breath on your skin, the heat of him so close to you.

You shove at his chest, openly flustered, muttering a quiet, "Shut up", before draining the last of your cup.

Touya chuckles, trailing his knuckles lightly up your arm, before murmuring, "If I can't eat you up, I'd love to eat you out, hm?"

You look back at him incredulously, only to see him staring at you with a piercing heat; your heart pounding in your chest. Your skin prickles at the intensity held within that azure gaze.

"You're serious?" You whisper cautiously, ready to run and defenestrate yourself at any hint that this might just be a joke to embarrass you.

His brows furrow a bit in confusion. "'Course, Doll."

You give him a considering look, biting your lip, before sighing. "Fuck it. Let's go."

"Fuck yeah." he grins, lacing his fingers through yours, and tugging you back inside and toward the staircase.

You laugh softly at his antics, but let him lead the way, rolling your eyes and flipping your friend off when you hear her yell for you to "Get it, girl!"

Touya leads you up the stairs and down a long hallway, into a bedroom layered in black, blue and purple decor, though you don't get much time to actually look around, because his lips are immediately on yours.

Firm hands wrap around your hips, pulling you in for a hot, hungry kiss.

Not expecting the intensity of it, you suck in a sharp breath through your nose, tossing your basket purse to the side, before threading your fingers into his dark hair, tugging him closer. He licks the seam of your lips, and you eagerly open up, your tongues tasting each other; the bitter taste of alcohol from both of your earlier drinking adding to the heat of it.

Pulling away from the kiss, he pushes you backwards, onto the bed, making you squeak in surprise as you fall. Your feet dangle off the end, eyes blown wide as you watch Touya hover over you, holding your wrists above your head in warm hands.

"Fuck, should've done this sooner." he mutters, leaning down to capture your lips again, holding you in place with his weight.

And something about being pinned down, with no way to tug free easily, has your cunt clenching.

He nips at your lower lip, and you moan softly, before he's kissing along your jaw and down your throat. You let out little shuddering breaths and whispered curses as he takes advantage of the low cut of your dress, pulling it and your bra down below your breasts, shifting to hold both your wrists in one hand.

Humming lowly, appreciatively, he gropes your bare tits, pinching and rubbing your nipples. His hot mouth latches on to a pert bud, flicking his tongue across it before sucking.

You gasp, trying to tug your hands free as you squirm beneath him. He mercifully relents, releasing them, and you immediately tangle them in his hair.

He pulls off of the current nipple with a slick pop, switching to the other, laving it with the same attention and relishing in your sounds.

He presses a wet kiss between your breasts, before shifting down, past your clothed abdomen, and sliding off the end of the bed.

Tugging at your legs, he pulls you to the edge and spreads you wide, lifting your dress. He licks his lips as he sees that you're wearing nothing but flimsy, lace panties, leaning in.

He buries his face between your thighs, lace damp with your arousal, and he groans as he can partially taste you through the fabric where he licks a stripe up your clothed cunt. Looping his fingers through the tops of the underwear, he pulls it down swiftly, unveiling his prize.

Pretty and dripping, Touya feels his mouth water.

"Mm, needy little thing, aren't you?" He coos, gripping your thighs in warm hands.

"Fuck, hurry up," You whine, voice exactly as needy as you look.

"Don't worry, baby," Touya says, grinning, and he has a...mischievous glint to his eyes. "I'm going to huff..." he blows a breath against your dripping cunt, making you gasp, scrambling to sit up, "and puff..." another breath of hot air against you, "and blow your mind, Red."

And you can't help the snort of laughter that bubbles up, "You've got to be fucking kiddi-" you start, but quickly choke on the words when he licks up through your folds, tongue firm and hot.

He circles your clit with the tip of his tongue, before sucking on it, making you shudder and moan, pussy clenching around nothing. You reach down again to grasp dark hair, grinding your hips up against his face, as your eyes roll shut, head thrown back, when he thrusts his tongue into your cunt, deep and curling against your slick walls.

With the way he's practically making out with your pussy, tongue eager and sinful, you can already feel your orgasm approaching, your legs trembling as you clench rhythmically around Touya's tongue.

His grip on your thighs tighten momentarily, before one hand releases its hold, coming down to sink two fingers into your needy cunt along with his tongue; the burn of the stretch making your head loll back, a whiny moan bubbling out of you.

Moving up to show your clit some more love, he sucks on the swollen nub, humming against you as he pumps his fingers in and out, curling and scissoring, stretching you open for him.

"Oh, fuck." you moan breathlessly, grinding down against his fingers.

Eyes locked on you, Touya just hums against you, and the vibrations of that directly on your clit is immediately too much. You cum with a whining moan, your entire body jolting and shuddering with the shockwaves of pleasure that course through you.

You grind your cunt against Touya's face, who relishes in the movements, moaning and not letting up his ministrations, drawing out your pleasure.

When you finally slump back down, whining and twitching, you push at Touya's head when it becomes too much. He mercifully pulls away and leans back, pulling his fingers free to lap at them.

He stands up, leaning over the bed to claim your lips in a searing kiss, rolling his hips up against your core, letting you feel how hard he is. You wrap your legs around his waist, pressing closer against him and Touya groans.

"Tell me what you want, Doll. Lemme hear you say it." he mutters, nipping at your lips.

"Fuck," you whimper, dripping for it. Eyes glossy, you peer up at him. "Fuck me, please."

You move to fully strip off your dress, but Touya stops you, eyes hungry.

"I wanna fuck you in it, Dolly." his voice is husky as his hands slide up the sides of your thighs under the dress.

"Mm, hurry up," you pant, squeezing your legs harder around him, rubbing your soaking folds against his pants.

Touya leans in to bite and tug your lower lip, before nosing at your throat, a low growl in his voice. "Impatient little slut, hm?"

You moan, nodding, eyes lidded. He huffs a laugh against your neck, teeth scraping at the soft skin. He presses a hot kiss just under your jaw before pulling your legs free so he can undress.

He soaks in the deliciously desperate look on your face, gaze locked onto him as he strips off his shirt, and shoves his pants and boxers down, freeing his cock.

At the sight of him, tip coated in precum that drips down the long, thick shaft, you bite your lip, subconsciously spreading your legs a bit wider; the only thought on your mind how badly you want that cock splitting you open.

Touya smirks, slowly stroking himself, swiping his thumb over the glistening tip, making a little show of it. He can see the way you lick your lips like you want a taste, but that isn't what he wants right now, just wanting to sink into your tight heat.

You start scooting up further on the mattress to make room for him, but Touya shakes his head. Standing at the foot of the bed, he gives you a devilish smirk as he grips your ankles, tugging you down to the very edge of the bed so your ass is barely hanging off.

A hand cups the back of your left knee, pushing your leg up, and you glance down to where his hot cock presses against your entrance.

Rubbing the head of his cock along your slit, teasing through your folds, he says, amusement lacing his voice, "Howl for me, yeah Little Red?"

You barely even care about the horrible pun, purely focused on the dick not inside you yet. "Fuck, yes," you groan impatiently, wiggling your hips, trying to coax him into just fucking you.

All too pleased with himself, he chuckles at your blatant want, "Good girl," and pushes forward to fully sheathe himself in a single thrust.

Your breath hitches; the stretch deliciously intense, the thick head pressing perfectly against your most sensitive nerves. Touya groans, gripping your hips tightly, holding you at the end of the bed as he rolls his hips, soaking in feel of the tight heat enveloping his dick.

He looks down at you, speared on his cock, panting and eyes hazy, and licks his lips as he shifts his hands to your thighs, pushing them toward your abdomen, folding you as he leans forward, sinking even deeper, his hips flush against you. He starts thrusting slowly, watching his dick move in and out, shining with your slick, relishing in the filthy squelching sound accompanying each movement and the choked moans being wrung from you.

"This is what you wanted, right, baby?" he murmurs, taking in your expressions.

You just nod, panting, head feeling like it's stuffed full of cotton as you savor the feel of his sheer size as he moves, clenching around him.

His hips stutter at that, before hooking your boot clad ankles over his shoulders, and with a low growl in his throat, he leans down, palms bracing against the sheets, and starts moving faster. He pounds harder and harder into you with each thrust, drilling into you relentlessly, fucking you deep.

And all you can do is pant and moan and take it, the brutal pace punching the air out of you. Through the filthy sounds of your cunt and his borderline animalistic grunts against your throat, something in the back of your mind realizes that he has you in a mating press, fucking you so, so deep, and that thought is all it takes.

You shake with your orgasm, back arching, eyes rolling back and toes curling as you drench his cock with your heat.

He groans out a swear as you clamp down, fucking you through it, before pulling out, roughly manhandling you into going further up the bed and flipping you over. Still dazed and twitching slightly, you go easily.

Pushed onto your knees, face down, ass up, you barely even register the shift until he grips your hips in a bruising hold, pushing your legs wider. Keeping the skirt of your dress flipped up, he slams back into you with a growl, and you let out a gasping moan, back arching.

Like this, you're in the perfect position for Touya to mount you.

He pistons into you, the wet slap of skin filling the air.

"Touya!" you scream, moaning and panting as you push back to meet each movement as best you can, pussy dripping.

He groans, folding himself over you to rest his forehead against your back, crowding you into the sheets.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you chant, babbling underneath him, moving your hips back with strong rolls of your spine as you fuck yourself on Touya's cock.

"Shit," he hisses. He leans back a bit, slowing his thrusts as one hand goes to the back of your neck, pressing down hard as he grips your hip with the other hand, making your back arch further, chest pushed into the plush of the sheets as Touya sinks impossibly deeper into your hungry pussy. "So good, baby, so good."

Ignoring the sweat trickling down his temple, he uses his grip on you to force you to stay still and behave as you whimper and wriggle, because you're so fucking wet and tight, that Touya is doing his fucking best to hold off his orgasm so he can bask in the feel of your cunt for just a bit longer, taking in the obscene sounds escaping your sloppy cunt.

It's the best sound he's ever heard, just below the sweet little whimpers and gasps escaping your lips as he carves out a place for himself within you.

Picking up his pace again, he slams into you over and over again, panting. You moan and whine beneath him, almost delirious with pleasure. "Mmn, more, more, harder, Touya, harder!" you cry out.

He lets out a near feral snarl as he lets go of your neck, shifting his position just a little so that he could drive in as fast and hard and deep into your greedy body as possible, gripping your waist, and using it as a grip to help pull you against his dick with every move.

This position has his balls slapping up against your clit with every thrust, and you moan, tilting your hips to get more contact.

It feels like he's impossibly deep inside you, as if he's hitting your womb with the blunt head of his cock. You can almost imagine him forcing his way in and emptying himself inside and your cunt pulses, wanting nothing more than exactly that.

And you can't stop the way your entire body vibrates as you cum again, sobbing around a low moan as drool trickles past your lips and your cunt gushes around him. There's so much now that it's dripping down your thighs, soaking your stockings and Touya's legs, creating a filthy, wet slap that echoes around the room.

"Fuck, fuck, shit," he groans at the way your walls clench down, pussy walls fluttering around him.

And Touya doesn't stop, doesn't slow down, doesn't speed up. He just continues at the same pace, fucking you through it, prolonging it.

"Oh god, so good—hah— s-so deep—", you moan, gasping at a particularly deep stroke along your sensitive walls.

You're a twitching, moaning mess, your pussy sporadically clenching as the waves of bliss continually surge through you.

And you feel a burning need to feel him fill you up with his cum, a need for him to breed you like a sweet little bitch.

You let out a sobbing moan at that thought, shuddering almost violently when Touya leans in to lap at the soft skin of your shoulder and neck as you move, sucking little marks into your flesh. He teases his teeth along your neck, grunting and groaning at the intense pleasure still building up.

You turn your head to look back at the man pounding your drenched pussy, taking in his furrowed brows, clenched jaw and feral yet focused expression; and Touya sees how fogged over with pleasure your gaze is, how absolutely fucked out you look, your tongue lolling out of your mouth. You look fucking debauched.

He releases his hold on your hips to drape himself over your back and lean on his forearms at the sides of your head, caging you in.

"Fuck, I'm gonna—" he groans into your skin, breath warm, voice low and hot.

“Mn—hah—need your cum.” panting, your eyes roll back in your head as he speeds up; his thrusts punishing. "C-cum inside me—oh fuck—breed me, please, please, p-please—fuck—fill me up, bite me, b-breed me please—", you babble, and you can feel his cock twitching within you as he ruts into you, his hips stuttering, before he's cumming; his hot seed flooding your insides as he clamps down on the soft flesh between your neck and shoulder with a snarl.

It hurts so good, and your voice is broken when you shout Touya's name as your pussy spasms around him in a semblance of an orgasm, but it's close enough as your eyes roll back and you convulse with pleasure, moaning long and low.

"Oh fuck, yes, yes, yes, yes—hnn—fill me up, breed me—" the string of nonsense is sobbed into the bed, sheets muffling them, tears cascading down your face and causing your vision to go blurry, as you're fucked out of your mind, just barely remembering your own name through the haze; your body trembling and shivering, cunt clamping down like a vice and milking Touya's cock for all its worth.

He groans heavily around the mouthful of flesh as he grinds shallowly into your stuffed cunt, before managing to unlatch his jaw from you and lick and press open mouthed kisses over the mark.

"Fuck yes, take it. Take my cum, fuck." He growls, lips pressed against your new mark, fucking his seed into you as deeply as he could, dragging out your highs.

He finally slows to a stop when the pleasure turns painful with overstimulation, chest heaving as he attempts to calm down; sitting back and dragging you with him until you're on his lap, face still pressed against the bed as you gasp for breath.

He laughs breathlessly at your debauched state, kneading the flesh of your ass, before easing out of your abused hole.

With his cock no longer keeping your cunt plugged, the mix of your sticky juices and his thick cum spill down your thighs, onto the bed unimpeded.

Your stockings are absolutely soaked, and your dress wasn't safe either.

You don't know how you'll be able to leave like this, but you'll figure something out. When you can remember your full name, you can figure it out.

For now, you bask in the feel of warm hands running along your body, easing out whatever tension is there, drifting off to the distant sounds of music thumping through the house.

And as you drift off, Touya's eyes take in your ravished form and he licks his teeth like a beast would it's chops. His meal was delicious.

⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑

#moonchild701 #mha #bnha #dabi #touya todoroki #dabi x reader #dabi x you #my fics #mdni #dabi smut #mha smut #bnha smut

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hauntedbysmut · 4 months ago

Text

@lynk5475, your fic request is here! 💕

Rave Bae

Tags: modern-day AU with evol still included, brat tamer! Xavier, fingering, cunnilingus, edging, spanking, light bondage with evol, hair-pulling, semi-clothed sex, aftercare

Photo credit also @lynk5475

Feel free to take the link or read below the cut.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63759106

The music felt like a living thing in her veins, the beat matching her heart’s steady pounding, limbs flowing to each shift as the hoop swung around her. Like an extension of her arms, she let the fluidity of the song guide her movements, her body shifting with the hoop as it oscillated. She felt like the living embodiment of sound in this moment. Sweat clung and dripped between her breasts and slid down her legs. She had no awareness of how long she had been moving, just that she couldn’t stop even if she wanted to.

Despite having come alone, she had never felt lonely with the constant press of bodies all around and the steady drug of music suffusing her veins.

That was when he saw her. As Closer by Byor beat all around them, her hoop mesmerized him as if he were a snake and she were the charmer. The dangling stars on her mesh sleeves glinted with her hoop. Her outfit was almost entirely black, the lights she moved so gracefully clearly meant to be the main focus. Even still, he found himself admiring the curve of her waist, the cutouts just below her breasts and above her belly button. He moved toward her as if drawn in by the lyrics and her movements, unable to resist the pull of her magnetic energy. As he moved toward her, her eyes opened and locked onto him, her flow unhindered even as she gave him a little twirl and wide smile.

Now that he was closer, he could see the light pattern of stars and moons along the fabric of her shorts and crop top. Buckles connected the top of her crop to a zipped halter choker, a belt crossing her waist, and two more at the bottom of each leg of her shorts. The sleeves seemed to be held on by pure magic, as her shoulders were bare, but the mesh material clung to the well-defined curve of her arm muscles. Between the lights from the stage and the lights of her hoop, her eyes sparkled at him, the sweat on her body adding another dimension of light to her dance. He couldn’t look away if he tried. He continued to move, still giving her room to flow, but watching raptly even as her eyes closed again and he could see her give her body over to the music.

He longed to reach out and touch her, to slide against her and let the music take them both. He had never felt such a strong pull to a complete stranger before.

As the song ended, the MC announced the last set of the night, beginning to thank everyone for coming, even with an hour remaining. As she reined in her hoop, he approached her fully. Her face was open and bright, and her chest was moving with her quick breaths.

“You’re really talented,” he said, calling over the noise of the speakers. She looked at him curiously and pointed to her ear, shaking her head. He moved in and placed his hand on her waist as he brought his lips closer to her ear, her own body craning forward to meet him. “I said you’re really talented,” he repeated, volume slightly lower now that he was so close.

He could feel her smiling against his cheek as she leaned into his own ear and responded. “Thanks! You know, we kind of match!” He pulled back and looked at her outfit again, his eyes reminding him of his own black shirt with silvery stars and planets. He laughed and leaned back in.

“We do!” Glancing back down at his arm, he saw a bracelet that he felt fit her perfectly. “Do you mind?” He pulled back, letting his hand slide slowly from her waist, and pointed at his right arm, covered in kandi. She shook her head again and easily pressed her left hand against his. Beneath the mesh of her sleeve, he saw a plethora of kandi, the result of three days of festival-going and countless trades.

Together, they said, “Peace, Love, Unity, Respect,” moving their hands with each word until their hands were clasped together at the end. Grabbing the bracelet he had seen, he moved it over the others and onto her wrist. She pulled one from her own wrist, placing it on his arm. Unable to help himself, he kissed her hand before he let go, looking at the bracelet she had given him.

“Nightlight,” she giggled into his ear, having read his.

“My star?” he asked. Being so close, he could smell the combination of her sweat and perfume, a heady scent of flowery pheromones invading his senses. She giggled and his cock hardened against the zipper of his cut-off shorts.

“I’ve been saving that one all weekend for someone special.” He pulled back and she laughed at his dazed expression. She grabbed the open collar of his shirt and pulled him back in. “I know we just met, but you sure seem special,” she said, her voice dropping into a more sensual tone. She moved back slowly, her eyes searching his as she did, feeling as if she were drowning in the depth of his gorgeous, oceanic eyes.

The tension between them ramped up, and as she looped her hoop around the two of them briefly, the music started again.

The energy between them had changed, charged with a promise of something new. She winked at him as she let her hoop flow around her slowly, stepping away from him again as the intro to Drift Like a Cloud, Flow Like Water by INZO led them in. Her body moved sensually, sliding against the hoop. His heart was pounding as the music ramped up, the drop into the song sending her into a burst of movement.

Feeling the inspiration of the song, he let his evol loose, creating small poi-esque balls of light that he directed toward her, having them drift through her hoop as she faltered slightly, her eyes rounding at his evol’s playful dance around her. He knew it was rare, and her reaction wasn’t new. Most people were shocked when they saw light evol. She watched each ball, her hoop continuing to move as she smiled with wonder. His evol poi moved around him, pulsing to the beat of the song as they danced together.

When the song ended, she let her hoop lay across her shoulders, reaching out to touch the evol poi. Just as she was about to touch one, he had it burst into a small firework, and she shrieked in delight. He let his evol dissipate as she looped him into her hoop again.

She pushed up onto her toes as she reached her head toward his ear, her hands pushing against the bare skin of his chest. “That was amazing! I knew you were special!” She gave him a swift peck on the cheek before he could react, and his hands planted themselves on her hips.

The last hour of the festival, they danced in her hoop, bodies sliding against each other until the hoop fell to the ground and surrounded their legs with light. They hardly talked, their bodies doing all of the talking in the moments the music melded them together. Their breaths mingled, lips meeting at random, her hands slung over his shoulders as his hands wandered across her back, sides, and hips. Her eyes were glued to his the entire time, and be it the music or the atmosphere or this insane connection they both felt, she had never felt so at home as she did in his arms.

Time passed far too quickly. Before either of them knew it, the crowd was starting to head toward the exits, their bubble broken with the reality of a night coming to an end.

She laced her fingers with his and picked up her hoop, gently swinging it around his head to rest against her shoulder and across her chest.

“Where were you at the beginning of the weekend?” She asked softly, her eyes full of sorrow.

He couldn’t stand that look in her eyes, and even though they had just met, he knew he wasn’t ready to let her go just yet.

“Come back to my hotel with me?”

She paused. “Are you sure? I could be a serial killer.”

He laughed. “If I’m being so reckless, I would deserve a death at your hand.”

She giggled. “Yeah, okay. I’ll come back to your hotel with you.” Her cheeks, already rosy from exertion, deepened in color. He felt a deep wave of satisfaction sink into his chest knowing he had been the one to put that color there and couldn’t help the smile that took over his face at her answer.

“It’s only a block from here, so we can just walk.” He kept his hand firmly grasped with hers as he led them out of the grounds and back to the street. The walk was short, sidewalks packed with other festival-goers who had the same idea and were walking back to their hotels. The energy was still high, and people were exchanging kandi all over the place, creating pockets where the flow of people became congested. He was thankful his hotel was so close, a feeling of urgency to get her safely into his room and away from all of these people thrumming through him.

She didn’t seem to mind the crowd, her spare hand holding on to her hoop as they maneuvered through the clusters of people and into the lobby. After a quick elevator ride, they stood outside of his door.

He suddenly felt nervous. He had never had a one night stand or a “rave bae” before. He was overcome with thoughts about etiquette and a deep concern about the state he had left his room in before he had left that morning. She seemed placid beside him, though her own mind was racing with similar thoughts.

As he opened the door and ushered her inside, she switched off the lights on her hoop and set it down on the floor, pushing her shoes off by the door, and making her way farther in. His bed had been made by housekeeping, and his trash cans were empty, and he silently thanked them in his head as he noticed how nice his room looked. She sat on the edge of his bed, and the sudden silence in the room lay heavily around them.

She smiled at him, leaning back on her hands. Rubbing the back of his neck, they both burst into laughter.

“Are you hungry?”

She nodded. “I could definitely eat something. I don’t remember when I ate last, if I’m being honest.”

Feeling a new sense of purpose, he opened the mini-fridge and got two waters out. “We definitely both need to drink some water and hydrate.” He handed her the bottle and drank down his own.

“Actually, do you mind if I grab a shower?” She lifted her arm and sniffed gently before laughing. “I think I’ll be better company if I don’t smell like this.”

“Help yourself. I’ll order us some food while you get cleaned up.”

Moving into the bathroom, she stripped down and let the hot water scour her skin, using the hotel toiletries to wash her hair and body until she felt like a new person. Climbing out of the shower, she grabbed the hotel robe and wrapped it around herself. Hearing soft music filtering under the bathroom door, she walked back out to the main room. He was laying on his bed, his eyes meeting her and darkening slightly as he took in her robed form.

“Feel better?”

She nodded and laid next to him, arranging the robe so that it still covered the tops of her thighs.

“I think I’ll take a quick shower, too,” he said, handing his phone over to her. “Feel free to change the song or dig through my playlists.”

With that, he made his way to the bathroom as she busied herself with learning his music tastes. As he reentered the room in nothing but a pair of low-slung gray sweatpants, she clicked on Nightlight by Illenium.

He smiled softly down at her as he walked over to stand at the base of the bed, slotting his hips between her dangling legs. She smiled up at him, pushing up into a sitting position to reach for him. He bent down, his hands falling on either side of her as she put her arms around his neck. His lips met hers in a gentle kiss, using the leverage to kneel down between her legs at the end of the bed. He pulled her body into him, the robe riding up her legs, his hands finding the exposed flesh and kneading her thighs.

He sat back slightly, pulling away for a moment. “We don’t have to do anything else tonight if you’re not comfortable with that.” She smiled as she leaned forward to kiss him again.

“Such a gentleman…” She pushed her hands into his wet hair, giving it a sharp tug, a little gasp leaving his lips. “What I need is for you to not be a gentleman right now.”

His eyes blazed as he looked back at her. Then he was moving, his hands pushing up under her robe until he was gripping her bare hips, his lips back on hers, teeth nipping at her lips. She rolled her hips toward his and his grip tightened. “Be a good girl and wait your turn,” he growled, pressing his tongue between her lips and devouring her. She moaned into his mouth, digging her hands further into his hair, and scraping her nails against his scalp.

His thumbs swiped along the crease of her thighs and she felt her pulse jump in response. She shifted her hips side to side, trying to press his hands closer to her core, but he resisted. When she moved a hand to grab one of his and put it where she wanted it, he took her hand and pressed it to the mattress.

“Looks like someone needs to learn patience,” he growled, bracketing her wrist to her side. She nipped his lip in response, whining. “And respect.” He brought his other hand away from her core, grabbing her unrestrained arm. “Maybe we should tie these together so you can’t cause any more trouble,” he whispered, his eyes flicking with amusement as she whined again.

Pushing back to his feet quickly, he took both of her hands and held them together. He pushed her back down onto the mattress, making a quick evol rope around her wrists before he released them. She looked at his hands in confusion before pulling her own hands down in front of her face to see what was holding them together. He grabbed her arms and pushed them back above her head again.

“Leave these here,” he ordered, pinching the skin of her thigh gently in his other hand.

“Did you just make restraints with your evol?” She whimpered and then closed her eyes and groaned. “Fuck… why is that so hot?”

He smirked at her before grabbing her leg and stepping back slightly. With a quick move, she was flipped onto her stomach, a small squeal of surprise escaping her. He took each of her legs and arranged her until she was face down, ass up like his own personal feast. He slid his hands up and down the backs of her thighs. His fingers pressed just slightly into the middle of her legs, continuing to tease her even as she could feel her own arousal beginning to coat her inner thighs. In this position, he could see how wet she was, especially now that he had her exposed to his gaze.

“Look at you. So needy,” he whispered to himself. He used his thumbs to spread her cheeks apart, and her face flamed with heat and embarrassment. A satisfied thrill rolled through him at the willingness she had shown to his proclivities so far. He liked to dominate, and it seemed she wasn’t willing to give up control quite that easily, which he had no problem with.

She squirmed under his perusal, bringing her arms back in toward herself in an effort to get up and look at him. A firm hand in the center of her back stopped her momentum and pressed her back onto her face. “Touch me!”

A sharp smack landed against her ass and she moaned. “Remember your manners, princess,” he murmured, his hand soothing where he had just struck with gentle swipes.

“Please, please touch me…” she paused. “Wait, what’s your name?”

He spanked her again before leaning forward. “It’s Xavier, princess.” He nipped her neck and turned her head to kiss her. “Remember it so you know what to scream later.”

She moaned loudly. “Xavier, please. Please touch me.”

“I was under the impression I was already doing that,” he snarked, tracing his fingers along a hand print. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

She whined and shook her ass at him, parting her legs further, even as slick dripped onto the duvet below her. He chuckled and she felt his breath against her left cheek before his teeth bit into her skin. “You’re a brat,” he murmured against her flesh, spanking opposite of his bite. Seeing her skin reddening from his attentions got him even more excited, and his erection leaked precum into his sweats as he teased her. “Tell me what you want.” He let his thumb slide toward her cunt, her thighs flexing as she anticipated his touch. He stopped just short of where he knew she wanted him and waited.

She let out another desperate sound, tilting her hips to try to get him to slip inward, but he gripped her ass and gave her another harsh spank. She cried out again. “Please, Xavier. I want you to touch my pussy.”

He hummed happily as he leaned down again and licked along one of the red marks he had left behind. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He slid his fingers along her drenched slit, gathering the moisture on his fingers before pushing two into her. She clenched around him, a long, low moan like music to his ears as he pumped shallowly. He dipped his thumb down to slide against her clit each time his fingers pressed inward, and she pressed back against his hand with each pass.

As he fingered her, he added light smacks to her ass, her cunt clenching around his fingers each time he did. Her moans were getting louder, and she started pressing faster against his hand. Then, just as she was about to come, he pulled his fingers out. She cried out in frustration, her orgasm just out of reach as he kneaded her ass with his hands, bending over her back.

“You forgot to tell me one very important detail, princess,” he said, licking the shell of her ear. “You didn’t say you wanted me to make you come.”

She bucked back against him, earning another swift spank. “All you have to do is say it, sweetheart.” He chuckled, kissing her cheek.

“I want you to make me come,” she whispered, looking back at him as best she could.

“Gooood,” he said, sliding back down her back. Instead of his fingers touching her again though, she clenched her legs as she felt his tongue coast against her, licking from clit to perineum. His hands spread her for his head to settle between her legs, tongue flicking relentlessly against her clit as her orgasm began to build again, faster than before, until it was a wave above her head and she knew she was going to drown. As the pleasure hit her, he continued to lick and suck, taking everything she gave him and then some.

Her eyes were hooded as he leaned up to kiss her, the tang of her own release still stark on his tongue as he slid it against her own. “Let me know if it is too much, okay princess?” he whispered in her ear as she heard him shifting behind her. She nodded with partially hooded eyes, looking back to see him pushing his sweats down his legs, his cock dripping with his own arousal.

He stepped slightly to the side so she could see him better, one of his hands moving along his length as he slid the precum along himself. She moaned as she watched him, imagining the way he would feel inside of her. He picked up a condom packet that seemed to appear as if from nowhere. Tearing it open with his teeth, he pulled the condom out and rolled it onto himself.

He moved back behind her, pressing the tip to her and rubbing it against her slick, their combined arousal making lewd sounds she could hear over the music’s soft volume. She pressed back against him instinctively, wanting to feel him press inside, and with a short moment of hesitation, he slid all the way in. They both groaned at the feeling, her walls spasming around him before he pulled back just a little bit and slammed back in.

One of his hands came up and slid beneath her hair, pulling it into a ponytail and bracing against her scalp, gently tugging her head backward. She pulled her tethered hands underneath herself as he thrust a few more times, her back arching with the new tension against her head.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he hissed, taking a couple of shallow dips into her before setting a hard, deep pace. The sight of her so fully at his mercy, spread out on his cock had his mind spiraling. He had never seen such a beautiful sight. Never felt so strongly for someone he had only just met. To him, she was perfect like this. Perfect with him.

The slight pain of her hair being pulled coupled with the pleasure of his balls slapping her clit quickly had her spiraling back up again, but as she neared her peak, her cries rising in pitch, he slowed, changing to a short, shallow thrust, and her orgasm subsided. She immediately realized what he was going to do, and as she internally berated herself for not anticipating it, she was determined to hold out until he gave in. She clenched her jaw and pushed back toward him, earning a smack to her ass as he tutted in disapproval.

“You know what to do if you want to cum, don’t you, princess?” he asked, his voice breathy from his harder pace. She kept her mouth shut, and he laughed. “Mmm, still a brat. We’ll see how long that lasts.” With that, he thrust back in to the hilt, his cock slamming into her as he bent over her back. One of his hands slid around to grab at her swinging breasts, and she belatedly wondered when the robe had fallen open completely. Before long, she was at the edge again, and he backed off once more.

He repeated this three more times before she felt like she couldn’t take it anymore, a frustrated sob breaking her lips when he stopped just before she was able to come again. He slowed and released her hair, pushing the hand that had been holding it up under her robe and dragging his dull nails down her back. “Please,” she moaned brokenly. “Please make me come. Please make us come.”

“There we go,” he said, his voice full of pride. His hands gripped her hips to hold her up as her chest slumped back to the bed.

He took a brutal pace, his hands gripping her hips so hard she knew they would have his fingerprints on them tomorrow. His breathing was harsh as the loud sounds of their coupling took over her senses, his moans mingling and twisting with her own. Where he had previously slowed before, he now pounded through her, her mouth hanging open on silent scream as the pleasure somehow built impossibly higher, praises falling from his lips before everything went white and she was distantly aware of his name being screamed aloud until he slumped down on top of her.

He immediately released his hold of his evol, her wrists no longer tied together as he fell next to her on the bed, thoroughly exhausted, feeling like his soul had been reborn from the force of the orgasm he had just had. He pulled her in to lay on his chest, brushing her slightly sweat-damp hair away from her face, a satisfied smile gracing her mouth. He smiled at her satiated expression and kissed her gently.

As the world came back into focus around her, she couldn’t remember ever feeling so relaxed. He got up from the bed and she heard the sink running in the bathroom before he was back beside her, gently separating her legs again to clean her thighs. He pulled his sweatpants back on, and returned to the bed with take out containers full of food.

“I totally forgot that you ordered food before I got in the shower,” she mumbled, her face still plastered to the duvet.

He chuckled gently, helping her sit up and rearranging her robe to cover her again as he helped her get situated against the headboard. They spent the next 30 minutes feeding each other take out, Xavier having ordered a wide variety of foods, citing that he didn’t know her preferences, and talking about their rave histories. He asked her how she had gotten into flow, and she asked him what artists had peaked his interest in rave festivals. They talked until both of them fell asleep, his arms cradling her to his chest as she used his arm for a pillow.

The next morning, she slipped from his room, changing back into her clothes from the previous night and leaving a gentle kiss against his forehead. She slipped from his hotel room quietly, rushing back to her own hotel to change, pack, and get to the airport for her flight.

As he woke up alone, he felt a pang of sadness and disappointment. He had secretly hoped she might stay and they could get to know each other better. Shifting against the bed, he heard the crinkle of paper, and reached out to find it. Flicking on the light next to the bed, he read the note she had left:

Xavier,

Thank you for one of the best nights of my life. I wish I could have stayed, but I am a sucker for early flights. I put my number in your phone last night, and I would love to hear from you if you’re interested in something more than a one night thing. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll cherish this night always.

Keep shining, my star.

Yours,

Rave Bae <3

#lads xavier #lads #lnds #love and deep space #l&ds #xavier x reader #xavier love and deepspace #xavier smut #love and deepspace smut #love and deepspace #hauntedbysmut

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