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staytheword · 2 years

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thanks for the memories (lmly, part one)

thanks for the memories — part one of leave me loving you [→ part two] [series masterlist] [general masterlist]

this series (and this blog) are 18+ !! minors, please do not interact!! if you interact with my writing please have a profile picture and short bio indicating your age. it helps me make sure you are not a bot!!

• han jisung x female reader, all other stray kids members are featured. other idols are mentioned briefly (ateez's wooyoung, itzy's yuna).

• non idol au, rock band au. drinking, partying, explicit language, explicit smut. oral sex (f receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, protected sex. (let me know if missed any warnings)

• word count: 11.6k

There’s only one person there, sitting on the edge of the stage, swinging his legs and looking around. For a second you think your eyes must be deceiving you, but it’s him. Han Jisung.

• permanent taglist: @ughbehavior ; @upallnight-s ; @changbinluvr ; @rosexjimin ; @nasiaisan ; @lotus-dly ; @cb97percent ; @j-0ne25 ; @hwan-g ; @jhopesucker ; @tanyas97 ; @raspbinniecreme ; @septicrebel ; @imtoooyoungforthisshit

• story taglist: @mintquokka ; @is2cb97 ; @dirah-h ; @bokk-minnie ; @allypasta ; @strawberriesandknives ; @drhsthl ; @hyunjins-red-lights ; @thesunsfullmoon (hope I didn't forget anyone, sorry if I did I have an awful memory!)

• author’s note: hello ♡!! here is part one of the series! thank you so much for all the support you've given me, it's really heartwarming :') I really really hope you'll enjoy this (can you tell I'm incredibly nervous haha?)! the first part is a bit longer than expected because I wanted to divide it differently but thought it didn't work as well.... ahh. anyway. well. if you can please let me know what you thought ♡ lots of love!

The Jack of Trades is packed tonight, exactly the way you like it. It smells like smoke and booze, colored by neon lights and light projectors. The floor is sticky under the soles of your combat boots, and you have to zig zag through the crowd to make it to the bar.

Tonight is one for the books.

The Trades is hosting the concert of a band who’s visiting your city on their tour. It’s a big deal. The band in question, Side Effects, got featured on Spotify and are really popular on social media. You don’t know them very well - you’ve only heard snippets of one of their songs - but judging from the amount of people squeezed in the Trades tonight, you’re representing a minority.

Leaning against the bar, you catch Yuna’s gaze and raise two fingers. She gives you a nod, her long hair falling in elegant waves on her shoulders. You always order the same thing, anyway, so she doesn’t have to ask. A minute later she hands you two bottles of your favorite beer, which will go straight to your tab, and you give her a thumbs up of encouragement in return.

You can’t remember the last time you’ve seen the place so packed. You don’t think you ever have. It’s usually busy on Fridays, but never like this. You feel a rush of pride because the Trades is your favorite place on this godforsaken planet and you know how hard Changbin worked to get it back on its feet after the last owner deserted.

Speaking about your best friend, he’s where you usually find him, near the mixing console where Jeongin is sitting, focused, his headphones placed on his bleached hair. Changbin is frowning at his phone, clearly busy with final preparations. It’s an important night for him. He lets out a relieved sigh when you hand him his beer.

“Finally,” he lets out, immediately taking a long sip.

You raise an eyebrow at him, smirking. “You’re welcome, Bin.”

He drinks for a few more seconds before answering you - his beer is already half empty.

“Can you see this?” he laughs in disbelief. “The place is fucking packed.”

“You did it, Bin,” you say, lifting your bottle to clink it against his. “You sold out the Trades.”

He grins and cheers to your words before emptying the rest of his beer. When he’s done, he releases a content sigh and you take the empty bottle from his hands.

“I feel better now. I was getting a little stressed,” he chuckles.

“Is everything ready?”

He nods. “Yup. We should be able to start on time,” he says, checking his phone again. “Oh, fuck, no, why is Hyun texting me…” You let your gaze wander around the room as Changbin starts to type frenetically on the phone. It’s hard to believe that only two years ago, this place was nothing. Changbin bought the place as it was falling to ruins. You still remember the first time he showed it to you, making a big show out of it. He put a blindfold around your eyes and everything - and when you saw the dusty floor, the bare walls and the half collapsed stage, you thought your best friend had gone crazy.

But Changbin had a vision. He wanted to create a place where there would always be live music, where people could come to dance to a band they liked just as much as grab a beer and listen to whoever was playing. You could see it in his eyes as he explained it to you.

It took months just to undo the damage made by the past owners - the plumbing needed to be replaced, there was mold in the walls of the bathroom, and things you preferred to forget in the dressing rooms. Luckily, Changbin was one stubborn guy, and he pushed through at the times you would have easily given up. You did your best to be there for him.

The months after that had been easier - choosing the color of the paint, the best material for the floor of the stage, the placement of the bar and tables. Changbin already had a name in mind, and you worked for weeks on a design for its logo. When Changbin gave his approval, he ordered a neon light in the shape of your logo, which now hung on the brick wall behind the stage.

Since its opening, the Trades has seen its fair share of rising artists, of questionable singers and chaotic musicians. A few concerts sold well, and the place became a success. Now there are so many proposals Changbin actually has to choose who will play on the nights the Trades is open.

Tonight, the place is sold out for a band that you’ve actually heard on the radio. Hyunjin, who works backstage, has a friend who has a friend - Side Effect’s guitarist. They were looking for a venue and the Trades ended up being mentioned in a conversation. When Hyunjin told Changbin, you were sure he was going to go into cardiac arrest. It cost him a small fortune to pay the band and promote the concert, but seeing tonight’s crowd, it was definitely worth the investment.

“He said three, Hyun - not, not two, three - I SAID THREE - HYUN?!”

You turn to Changbin, eyebrow raised, and he sighs deeply, holding the bridge of his nose. His outburst has also gotten the attention of Jeongin, who has turned his chair towards him and pulled down his headphones.

“We really need to get a better network for his place,” Changbin mutters. He nods at Jeongin. “Everything ready?”

Jeongin nods. He doesn’t talk a lot but has an impressive work ethic. He’s also the best - the best - poker player you’ve met.

“Y/N,” Changbin pleads, “can you please find Hyun and tell him three changes, not two. I need to stay here.”

You nod and head outside the booth. Although you’re always here, you don’t officially work for the Trades - but you don’t mind helping. The place is your baby a little bit, too. You’ve been here since the start, helped with the renovations, and you’ve barely missed a concert.

Holding on to your beer, you slip through the crowd towards the door leading backstage, Wooyoung letting you in with a sharp nod. You know the place so well you have no difficulty finding your way in the dark. You find Hyunjin standing behind the black curtains around the stage, hiding him from sight. He’s dressed all in black as usual, and blends with the shadows so well sometimes the only thing giving him away is the piercing on his eyebrow.

“Did he say two or three?” he asks you.

“Three,” you confirm.

“Three,” Hyunjin repeats under his breath, turning to finish preparing his things. “Why not two like everyone else? Why does it have to be three?”

You smile to yourself at his muttering, and hand him your beer.

“Take a sip, yeah?”

“Oh, yeah, thanks.”

He drinks as you peak around the curtain to see the stage. You love seeing it from this angle when it’s all ready to go, its floor covered in cords and various equipment. Side Effects has four members, each with their own microphone, and the drum kit is huge.

You turn back towards Hyunjin who has a finger against his earpiece and hands you back the beer. You understand the signal - the show is about to start. The Trades goes dark and you hear the crowd scream in excitment. You turn on your heels to leave, as you don’t want to be in the way, but as you’re about to head back, you’re blocked by a few people passing in front of you.

You can barely see them in the darkness, only a few lights giving a hint of their faces, but you can easily guess from their outfits and general energy that they’re the band.

The first has short, ruffled dark hair and wears a tank top that barely covers his wide shoulders. He does not see you, clearly in his own mindspace. The second is slightly shorter, with shoulder-length black hair that is half tied behind his head. His eyes are wide and shine in the darkness. He notices you staring and nods at you quickly, munching nervously on his lower lip.

The third barely glances at you. He wears a leather jacket and his hair covers his eyes. The last is smiling, visibly excited, and gives you a wink as he walks by - but he does it so quickly you can’t get a good look at him.

Each of them gives a different energy, none of which feels similar to what you would expect in a popular rock band, and just for that, you are intrigued. The crowd is going wild, a few people screaming at the top of their lungs, pushing towards the stage. The overall atmosphere is electric, tense like the few seconds before a raging thunderstorm.

You decide to stay for a song, making yourself small backstage. The first notes of an electric guitar rips through the Trades, soon followed by a rhythmic beat on the drums. When the voices join the melody, you find yourself moving, tapping your feet on the floor. The song is catchy, reminding you of the music you listened to when you were a teenager - in a good way - and their voices blend in perfect harmony.

Tank top guy, who you understand is the main singer and guitarist, stands at the center of the stage, belting a high note in the microphone. To his right, the other guitarist smiles widely at the crowd, no longer looking nervous - and to the left, perfectly sporting the bad boy look with his leather jacket, the bassist does not even smirk.

But really, it’s him you can’t look away from. Sitting at the drums, on the edge of his stool, slamming his sticks like a man possessed. He’s fast and aggressive, his face quickly dripping in sweat, his tongue slightly sticking out from between his teeth. In your entire life, you’ve never seen anyone play the drums like that. He’s probably barely visible behind the other members and the array of drums and cymbals in front of him, and yet he shines so bright you can’t take your eyes off him.

You stand there as if struck by lightning for the rest of the song, and then for about half of the second.

Who is that guy?

You see the appeal of Side Effects. Four handsome guys with an insane amount of charisma bombarding really good music like they were born for it - of course they would be popular. Around you, the audience is dancing and singing, clearly having fun. You feel proud for the Trades, and a little embarrassed that you didn’t give this band much attention before. They are good.

You clap when the second song ends, listening attentively as they introduce themselves. The singer and leader is Chris. The other guitarist is Felix. At the bass is Minho, and behind the drums sits Jisung.

You can’t help it - you stare at him. Jisung. He’s fidgeting like a child as Chris interacts with the crowd, happiness overflowing his eyes. He plays with his drumsticks like they’re the extensions of his fingers, which you don’t doubt is true. As Felix says something about an upcoming EP, Jisung leans down to drink some water, and as he looks up, your eyes meet.

He doesn’t react, and for a second you think he can’t actually see you in the dark - but then, he smiles.

A heart-wrenching, life-altering smile.

You can almost feel your legs wobble, but really, you are too shocked to move. You just stare back like an idiot until he looks away.

How can a guy be so goddamn magnetic?

The next song starts and you try to catch your breath. It’s hard to do so as he plays right next to you, the muscles of his arms tensed, his entire body jolting as he pounces on the drums. He’s still smiling, but he’s focused. You breathe out slowly.

When you think you can stare at him in peace, he turns his head for a second and winks at you.

It’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen.

You take a step backwards, clearing your throat, and look around nervously. That’s when you see Hyunjin, who is smirking at you. You give him a glare and he playfully winks at you.

You make sure to give his arm a good slap before you head back towards the booth to go back with Changbin, your legs a little shaky.

You’ll watch the concert from a distance.

People often talk about the calm before the storm, but you prefer the one that comes afterwards. The latent electricity, the echoes of screams. You stand in the middle of the Trades, your ears ringing in the eerie silence. The entire audience has left, the stage is empty.

You stand among the staff, your shot glass lifted as Changbin ends his speech. He has a proud grin illuminating his face, his eyes shining like stars - you cheer with the others to the night’s success, clink your glass against Hyunjin’s and drink. People disperse to finish cleaning up or to get home, but you linger next to Changbin. You throw your arm around his waist as he finishes talking with Wooyoung, and once the bouncer tells you both goodnight, you pull Changbin into a hug.

“Congratulations, Mr. Seo,” you tell him. “I’m proud of you.”

He hugs you back, chuckling, his breath making your hair dance. In the way his body leans against yours, you can feel how both happy and exhausted he is.

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” he breathes.

You shake your head, leaning back, gently tapping his cheek with your palm.

“Of course you couldn’t.”

He pulls his tongue at you as someone calls his name. You both turn towards the voice. A young guy with dark hair is smiling at Changbin, walking towards you. Wearing a pair of jeans, a white button-up and a relaxed tie, he looks both casual and fancy. Behind him are four people you immediately recognize.

Side Effects.

You try not to stare, stepping away from Changbin.

The main singer, Chris, looks completely spaced out although he’s smiling politely. Felix looks like he’s still on his adrenaline high, bouncing slightly, looking around in curiosity. The bassist, Minho, remains impassive, but he perhaps looks a little bored. The drummer, Jisung - will you ever be able to forget that name? - is on his phone and does not see either of you.

“Mr. Kim,” Changbin says, extending his hand. “I thought you would’ve left by now.”

“Not without saying thanks,” he replies, shaking Changbin’s hand. You conclude he’s the band’s manager. “Call me Seungmin, yeah?”

He looks at the main singer and nudges him with his elbow.

“Right,” Chris smiles. “Thanks for having us. We had a good time.”

“Yeah, it’s a really cool place you got,” Felix, agrees.

They all give smiles and thanks, shaking Changbin’s hand. Your best friend’s grin cannot leave his face. You stand a little behind him, observing the exchange. It’s hard not to gawk. They’re still wearing their stage outfits, and although they look different without the spotlights, you can still feel their energy.

“We’re having a little after-party,” Seungmin explains. “Wanted to extend an invitation.” He glances at you. “You and your staff, of course. Anyone who wants to join.”

“Ooh,” Changbin chuckles. “Hell, why not.”

Seungmin nods. “I’ll text the address then. See you in a bit.”

As they walk away, you exchange a long look with Changbin. You wait until they’re out of sight to gasp loudly, holding on to each other like you’re going to fall on your knees.

“Did they just -” Changbin exclaims. “Did we just get invited to an afterparty?”

“I think we did,” you whisper frenetically. “I think we fucking did.”

“Holy shit!”

This is the first time anything like that has ever happened - usually, if there are after parties, they take place inside the Trades, and it’s with bands or musicians that aren’t very well known. Those who are, even just a little, often leave as soon as their performance is over.

“You know what that means, right,” Changbin giggles. “Not only did they stick around, but they took the time to thank us, and then invite us? What the fuck!”

You laugh hysterically, throwing your arms around Changbin’s neck. You take the time to scream and dance for a minute or two, but then there’s stuff to do. You help your friend settle a few things, leaving the rest in Yuna’s safe hands, who’s not in the mood to party and has worked at the Trades since its opening.

There’s five of you going to the party, so you split two taxis and get to the address Seungmin texted Changbin. It’s already really late when you get there, but you don’t care. This sort of thing never happens and you are going to enjoy it. Besides, if it allows you to steal a few more looks at that hot drummer, you won’t complain.

The place, which you guess is the house the band rented for their time in town, is huge and already filled with people. Nobody asks who you are, and you just join the party like you were there from the start. Changbin is able to find Seungmin, who guides you to the kitchen where there’s a scandalous amount of beer available. You grab a bottle and cheer with your friend.

It’s going to be a good night.

You’re going to lose the game, that much you know - but you’re not going down without a fight. If only your eyes weren’t burning from the exhaustion and the booze, you might’ve stood a chance. But then again, your opponent is good.

Minho has brushed his hair away from his face. His eyes drill into yours, and while they are beautiful, they are, right now, your worst enemies.

You squint as the people around you hold their breath - and after a few more seconds, you can’t take it.

You blink.

The small audience lets out an audible sigh. Minho gives you a smirk.

“Well played.”

You wave your hand, rubbing your teary eyes. You’re not proud, but you can admit defeat, so you nod at him and he pats your shoulder. You'll get him another time. Or not.

It’s incredibly late and horribly early. You’ve been drinking - not too much, but a fair amount. The party is slowly calming down. There’s still music playing, but it’s faint. People are no longer dancing and drinking but rather lounging and chatting. A few are laying on the floor or on the couches, asleep. Someone is snoring nearby. A lot of people have left. Most, in fact. But not you.

You’re still here and you’ve just had a staring contest with Lee Minho - which you’ve lost. You shake your head, letting it fall against Changbin's shoulder. He is half asleep, barely able to keep his eyes open, his head secured against a fluffy cushion. In a minute or two you’ll lose him, but that’s fine - you plan on just curling up next to him and sleeping too.

Except, as you’re about to do exactly that, you spot Han Jisung.

You haven’t seen him much during the night. Not long after you arrived, you saw him flirt with a girl and he disappeared afterwards - you can guess the rest. Not very surprising coming from a member of a rock band. Of course he would have groupies. He was handsome, talented, charismatic. A flirt, too, apparently. Not like you cared, and certainly not like you expected him to remember the wink he gave you - if it had even been intentional. At this point, you’re convinced he didn’t even see you, that you were just a faceless shadow observing him from backstage.

So much for the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen.

But he’s there now, walking towards the kitchen, wearing distressed jeans and a white t-shirt. His hair is all over the place, his steps a little uneven. You stare at him as he crosses the room - he’ll never see you, anyway.

Changbin's chest is rising and falling regularly now, and you glance at him to confirm he’s fallen asleep. You smile tenderly, pat his cheek, and decide to head to the bathroom before you also get some rest. You head to the hallway, stepping over a few bodies, smiling at Jeongin who’s still playing DJ although the music is at such a low volume you can barely hear it. You ruffle his hair as you pass him.

You step out of the bathroom, thinking to yourself you should get a glass of water, and look up. A few steps away, leaning against the wall, is Han Jisung.

He looks up at you and smiles, his hands in his pockets, his eyeliner a little smudged.

“There you are.”

You’re too surprised to say anything at first, and he chuckles.

“What, you think I forgot about you?”

You blink, trying to gather your thoughts. “Excuse me?”

He smiles, tilting his head a little. “It’s you. You were backstage earlier.”

“How do you know that? It was dark.”

“Not that dark.”

You chuckle, maybe a little nervously. You’re a bit too drunk and tired for this conversation. He just looks at you in response, and you know it deep inside your heart. This guy is dangerous. Dangerously attractive, no doubt. But also just dangerous - the kind to consume your heart in a single bite and not leave a crumb. Exactly what you should avoid.

You cross your arms, looking back at him. “If you knew I was here, why didn’t you come earlier?”

He shrugs. “I thought you’d look for me.”

“There were like a hundred people here,” you sigh. “And when I saw you, you looked a little busy.”

He laughs, shaking his head. His smile - fuck, that smile. Wide and bright and heart-shaped. Fuck.

“Oh, that,” he says. “Yeah. She was all over me, what kind of gentleman would I be to refuse?”

You snort. “For some reason I can’t buy into the whole gentleman thing.”

“I’m hurt.”

“Do I need to remind you you’re a rockstar?”

“Hm. I would have just said musician or “some guy in a band”, but I’ll take rockstar.”

You stare at each other, and you can’t explain it, but you both burst out laughing. Surely, it’s the booze. It has nothing to do with the electricity between you, like you’ve known each other for years, like this is far from being your first ever conversation. What the hell is this?

Is this what people mean when they talk about instant connection? All you’ve known is friendship and trust built by experience and bonding. Not that it’s a bad thing - on the opposite - but this is new for you.

You cover your face with your hands, shaking your head, and Jisung approaches you slowly, his eyes filled with sparks.

“I love your laugh.”

“Oh, come on,” you sigh, rolling your eyes.

You turn to lean against the wall, placing your hands behind your back, and he follows your move, barricading you between the wall and him. He smirks.

“You don’t believe me?”

“It’s not that, rockstar,” you smile at him. “I just know guys like you. Flirts. Fuck boys.”

“Aoutch.”

“Like you don’t know it.”

He doesn’t refute it, his eyes lingering on your face, your nose, your lips, your body. Most of all, your lips. You’re tired and drunk and he smells good - it would be easy to reach out, but you won’t let yourself do it. You want to see what he will do.

And just like that, like he’s reading your mind, he leans in. Your breath hitches but you put a finger against his chest.

“Hm. Haven’t you had enough for one night?” you tell him mischievously.

He groans, and he’s so close to you his breath caresses your lips.

“It’s you I wanted from the start.”

It’s a terribly attractive thing to say, and you try really hard to ignore the fact that you’re turned on. You attempt to focus on little things to take your mind off his smell and his warmth - the fact that your mouth is dry, that a strand of your hair is tickling your ear, that your feet feel heavy in your boots after an entire day in them.

“You’re leaving tomorrow,” you whisper.

“All the more reason,” he grins.

He reaches to put said strand of hair behind your ear, removing your itch, and it makes you almost dizzy - so much that you barely see him as he leans towards you again. Your finger, still pointed at his chest, pathetically bends, and your hand ends up sprawled against his shirt. His breath smells like apple flavored liquor. He kisses you.

You know you’re just some random girl for him, one he’ll probably never know the name of, one of many he’ll have made out with on his tour. You know you’re just that, and you should have enough self-respect to push him away and not become yet another groupie on his fuck shelf, but he kisses so well you forget all of that.

Or, well.

You know it, but you choose to forget it.

Han Jisung’s lips taste like chaos. He kisses the exact opposite way he plays the drums, languidly, longingly, almost carefully - he is patient and delicate, yet it is clear he knows what he wants. You wrap your arms around him, and he pushes you against the wall, kissing you deeper.

His hands are in your hair and he slides his tongue against yours, and you moan at the feeling of it, and in this instant you would let him do whatever he likes to you.

You said it.

Dangerous.

You are vaguely aware someone approaches you and stops next to you, but Jisung is still kissing you like it’ll never happen again - and it never will - so you don’t really pay attention to it. It is only when Jisung lips leave yours that you touch back with reality, realizing the voice has been calling his name repeatedly.

“What is it, man?” Jisung asks, his voice low and annoyed.

You’re still hidden in his arms, feeling drunker than you’ve ever been. You can barely open your eyes.

“Sorry,” the voice says. It’s Chris. “But we need to go, like, now. Felix isn’t feeling good.”

You glance at Jisung to see his face has changed. He looks tense, almost sad. It’s a surprising sight and it stirs something inside of you.

Jisung gives Chris a nod. “I’ll be there in a second.”

Chris leaves, and Jisung turns back to you.

“Sorry, baby. Gotta go.”

He gently lifts your chin with his fingers and gives you a last gentle kiss. Your legs can barely keep you up.

Just like that, he walks away and disappears. You know it’s the last you’ll see of him tonight - and probably ever. You’re not sure how you feel about that, but there’s nothing you can do.

You trace your lips with your own tongue.

Apples.

You drag your feet back to Changbin, who is still asleep, and you sit beside him. Feeling disoriented, like your whole life has been taken apart and built back sideways, you wrap yourself around him, close your eyes, and let sleep steal you away.

The barista slides the two full cardboard trays of coffee on the counter and you thank him with a smile. It’s heavy and impractical, but luckily you only have to go next door.

As much as you love the Trades during the night, when it’s packed and loud and stifling, you adore it during the day. If the weather is nice, like today, the doors remain open to let the fresh air in, and there’s a spot at the booths, where you usually sit, that catches the light just right. You head there first, leaving your bags and your own coffee, and then you make a round around the place to give the other cups to the people you meet.

Jeongin is making repairs on his sound console and he accepts the coffee with a nod. Andy, the janitor, takes the next one, and soon you’re left with just one. You head upstairs to Changbin's office, and seeing that the door is closed, you knock. It’s the code everyone knows - an open door means you can go in. A closed one means knocking.

You wait for a few seconds, and when the door opens, Changbin only lets his head through - you see there’s someone in there with him. Soft brown hair and a black coat. Could be anyone. You just hand him his coffee, and he thanks you with a smile. You’re curious to know who he’s meeting, but you’ll just ask later.

That’s the beauty of your friendship with Changbin. There’s absolutely nothing complicated about it. Since day one, you have been completely open with each other about everything, so ambiguity has never been an issue. Nothing ever lingers - you just talk about it. Good things, bad things, uncertain things.

It’s an affectionate friendship, but it’s also a brutal one. You both have strong personalities, and everyone expects you to clash, and you do. But you do it in a way that is so open and true it never results in actual conflict.

Changbin keeps you steady, Changbin knows you, and Changbin learns with you. To be human, to do better - but also to accept you’ll always have your flaws.

Whistling a Side Effects song - it’s been stuck in your head - you head back to your usual booth and sit down. You take off your jacket, open your laptop and plug in your headphones.

It’s difficult for you to find places where you manage to be productive when working. Your own apartment is often too warm; cafés are a nightmare; but the Trades, however, is perfect. There’s just an energy that gets your creative juices going, and you’ve been enjoying it as much as you can.

You take a long sip of coffee and get to work.

About twenty minutes later, you see Changbin crossing the room towards the main entrance with someone - the person he was in a meeting with, obviously. You recognize Seungmin, Side Effects’ manager. They seem to be on friendly terms, so you’re wondering why they met. You can’t resist the temptation to take off your headphones to try and listen, but they’re too far away.

It’s been two days since the party and you can’t think about much else, although you keep telling yourself it’s pathetic. Still, you’re intrigued. You thought the band would’ve left town by now. Clearly, they haven’t.

Changbin appears a minute later, sitting down on the booth in front of you with a smirk you can only describe as ecstatic. You raise an eyebrow.

“Tell me you still have the file for your poster,” he tells you.

“Always,” you frown. “Why?”

He scrunches his nose and leans towards you.

“Because you’ll have to add something to it. Encore.”

“Wha - WHAT? WHEN?!”

“In two days.”

“TWO DAYS?”

Changbin explains that the band’s next scheduled performances have been canceled due to a flood in the venue. Since their tour would only resume a few days later, they had some free time ahead and decided to stay in town.

They offered to perform another time at the Trades because they loved the place, and Changbin certainly wasn’t going to refuse. A last-minute show on a Wednesday would be a challenge to organize, but it could be done. It would be done.

Giving Changbin a tight hug with a squeal of excitement, you immediately get to work on the design of the poster announcing the new date. The rush of adrenaline is inducing a rush of inspiration, and you have it wrapped up in a few hours.

Once you’ve sent the file to the printer, you lean back against the booth and realize you’re hungry. You remember you still have leftovers in your fridge, so you decide to head home. You throw your bag around your shoulder but leave your headphones around your neck for when you’re outside. It’s quiet in the Trades, but you glance around the room to see if anyone is there so you can say goodbye.

There’s only one person there, sitting on the edge of the stage, swinging his legs and looking around. For a second you think your eyes must be deceiving you, but it’s him. Han Jisung.

He’s wearing grey jeans covered in patches of different patterns. His oversized red and black striped sweater is torn here and there, his dark hair in disarray. To complete his look, he wears a thin leather choker around his neck and a variety of bracelets on his wrists, and his nails are painted pitch black.

Whatever he might say, he does look like a rockstar.

You don’t know if you know him well enough to just approach him like that, but you figure that his tongue being in your mouth less than forty hours ago must count for something, so you take a few tentative steps towards the stage.

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

He turns his head in mild curiosity, and once he sees you, grins widely.

“I was hoping to find you here,” he says.

You roll your eyes. “Sure you were.”

“Sorry. It was too easy,” Jisung chuckles.

“Seriously, why are you here?”

He shrugs, the heels of his leather boots hitting the stage as he keeps swaying his legs.

“I was really bored, so I took a walk. Ended up here, and the doors were wide open,” he explains.

He looks up to the ceiling, a strand of hair brushing his forehead and falling in front of his right eye.

“I love to see venues when they’re empty. They’re this special feeling about them.”

“I know what you mean,” you agree with a smile. “It’s calm, but there’s still… this lingering tension.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Jisung nods, looking back at you, eyeing you up and down.

You feel a little casual compared to him in your baggy jeans and crewneck, your hair tied behind your hair with a claw clip, not wearing any makeup. You must look like a different person from the other night, but Jisung does not make you feel self-conscious. He looks at you exactly the same, with an intrigued gleam and a charming smile.

“Where are you heading?” he asks.

“Home,” you reply. “To eat.”

“Ooh,” he chants, jumping down from the stage. “I’m in.”

You stare at him in disbelief.

“What?”

“I kinda feel like a cheeseburger, though,” he states, walking towards you with purpose. He stops in front of you. “I’m paying.”

You open your mouth to argue with him, but then you realize you don’t want to. Free food and pretty entertaining company? Why not. You nod.

“Lead the way,” he says with a grin.

In a couple of steps you’re standing outside under a timid sun. You point to the left, and Jisung follows you.

“So what do you do here, exactly?” he asks, nodding towards the Trades.

“Nothing,” you say. “I don’t work there, not really.”

He frowns. “So why are you -”

“Changbin is my oldest friend. I helped him put the place together, and it’s kind of just… where I hang out. I designed the logo, though.”

“You did that?” Jisung wonders, pointing to the sign.

“Yeah.”

“Damn,” he whistles. “Looks really cool.”

You thank him with a smile. Although you’re always hard on yourself when it comes to work, you are proud of what you did for the Trades. Not that you would have accepted anything less than perfection, anyway.

“I did the posters for your show, too,” you add.

Jisung gives you a smile that you would call impressed, and you feel a tang of pride in your heart.

“So you’re a graphic designer?”

“Yup.”

“Cool. Tell me about it.”

You have no idea why he’s interested, but you indulge him, telling him more about your work as you head towards the closest diner. It’s not a fancy place, far from it, but they do have the best cheeseburgers in the neighborhood, in your opinion. Jisung doesn’t look like the fancy type, anyway. As you watch and listen to him, you feel like he’s more the type of person that can adapt to every environment they’re in.

Being constantly on the road as he is, you guess it must be a good quality to possess. Has he always been like that, though? Or is it something he picked up along the way to make it easier?

Something about him just tickles your curiosity.

You sit down on a booth of worn black leather and the waitress brings you the menu. Jisung doesn’t look at it - just at you.

“Were you born here?”

“Yes.”

“You never left?”

“Nope.”

“Not even for traveling?”

“Just once. Went to London.”

“For what?”

“Fun.”

“Hm.”

“Are we done with the interrogation?”

To your surprise, Jisung lets out a loud laugh, sliding his hand through his hair.

“Sorry. I meet so many people, and I rarely have the chance to get to know them. This is new.”

“So I’m the first human being apart from your band and management you are able to have a conversation with in what, weeks?”

“Months.”

“No pressure, then.”

His smile stays on his face, large and luminous. You kind of like it. The waitress comes back to take your order, and you ask for two cheeseburgers, two sodas, and a large plate of fries to share.

Jisung keeps asking you questions. You tell him about how you met Changbin - kindergarten - what was the best concert of your life - not his - and what your favorite font is - depends on the day.

You get your food not long after, and as you pick up your burger, you decide to turn the table on him a little. Only fair, right?

“So you’ve been bored and wandering around. What about the rest of the band?” you ask as he takes a bit of his burger. “What have they been doing?”

“Sleeping,” Jisung answers with his mouth full. He swallows. “Fuck, this is a good burger.”

“Must be grateful for the rest,” you say.

Jisung shakes his head. “Not all of them. Minho can’t stay still to save his life. He’s climbing up the walls already.”

You laugh in disbelief. “Really? He looks so… calm.”

“He’s so weird,” Jisung laughs.

You hear the tenderness in his voice, and you catch a glimpse of the bond that must be linking them. You felt it, even when they were on stage. They were more than a band - they were brothers.

“And the other two?” you ask, simply out of curiosity.

“Chris is fine. He doesn’t say it but he’s glad to be able to stay in. Work on music. Watch movies.”

Jisung’s eyes darken.

“Felix… sleeps. A lot.”

You can hear something there, but you don’t want to ask. It’s none of your business, after all. Still, Jisung explains.

“He’s been through shit recently. So it’s good he can sleep.”

You smile softly. “You’re really close, right? The four of you.”

“Yeah,” Jisung nods. “With Seungmin, too.”

The softness on his face is new, but it does not last too long. Quickly, his smirk comes back, his eyes full of mischief.

“You like video games?”

You expect Jisung to bring you back to the house where the party took place, but instead he walks you to an apartment building. He explains that the house would’ve been too expensive for a longer stay - it’s not like they were millionaires - so they found this place on Airbnb for cheap. It’s smaller, but more than big enough for the four of them. The rest of the crew shared another place a few blocks over.

“The four of us lived in a shoebox for the longest time while we were in our garage phase,” Jisung says as he closes the door behind you. “So this is luxurious.”

He doesn’t bother to give you a tour, but you don’t care. Leaving your bag in the hallway, you follow him to the kitchen.

“That was a long-ass walk you took.”

Minho is glaring at Jisung, wearing two oven mitts and a neon pink bucket hat. The kitchen smells delicious, and you glance at the oven to try and see what is cooking in there.

“Found a stray cat,” Jisung says, waving at you.

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Cute of you to act like it wasn’t you that was lost.”

“I wasn’t lost. Just bored.”

Minho stares at you - or, well, you think he is. His eyes are completely hidden under his hat and his hair. He raises an oven mitt towards you, and you have to guess he’s pointing.

“Staring contest girl.”

“Not the worst nickname I’ve heard,” you pout.

“What was?” Jisung asks.

“You’ll never know.”

Minho chuckles.

“Made some meat pies if you’re hungry.”

“Thanks, bro.”

You frown as he grabs a plate to get a slice.

“But you just ate -”

You stop and shrug. One thing you’ll never judge or pretend to understand is how a person’s stomach works.

Minho and Jisung start whispering between themselves, and it seems like you hear Felix’s name, so you give them some space. In the meanwhile, you wander around the apartment, check out the hallway leading to the bedrooms, and then enter the living room. It’s a cozy space with a large sectional and a huge TV. You glance around for a good thirty seconds before you notice there’s someone sitting in a window nook. He hasn’t seen you, his eyes focused on his computer. Piled up on his head is a beanie, a pair of headphones and a hoodie. Chris. Jisung’s description was accurate.

“Don’t mind him,” Jisung tells you as he reappears next to you. “When he’s like that he’s not conscious of the outside world. You could be walking around naked he wouldn’t notice.”

“Sounds like a theory you’ve tested before.”

“Oh, yeah.”

You both plop down on the couch, laughing, and Jisung turns on the console. He hands you a controller and you start to play Crash Bandicoot, not really talking. You enjoy taking your mind off things, not really thinking about the situation you are in. Why are you here, after all? There’s no clear reason apart from the fact that you like Jisung. But you aren’t the type to question things too much - most of the time you prefer to just follow the path life takes you on.

For now it’s taken you here.

You spend the next few hours playing and eating snacks. At some point, Felix emerges from his room and sits on an armchair, dizzily staring at the screen. He looks exhausted, snuggled in a hoodie that is way too big for him, black hair curling around his ears.

When your eyes get tired Minho takes your place, playing a few games with Jisung as you text with Changbin. He reminds you you’re supposed to go to a birthday party that night, and you let out an irritated sigh.

“Fuck me,” you hiss through your teeth, resisting the urge to throw your phone across the room.

“Sure,” Jisung grins at you.

When you glare back, he chuckles.

“What’s up?”

“I have to go to this thing tonight. Birthday party.”

“Hm. Sounds fun.”

“Really not. The girl is a nightmare but she can’t, for the life of her, understand we’re not friends anymore, and that Bin will never be interested in her pathetic ass. All she does is show off how much money she has.”

“Wow,” Minho laughs. “Now I kinda want to meet her.”

“Good idea,” Jisung nods. “We’re not doing anything tonight, anyway, and I don’t know for you guys, but I don’t want to spend my entire night shut up in here. Let’s go.”

You shake your head.

“No way.”

“Think about it, Y/N,” Minho says, placing his elbows on his thighs. “Bringing us as guests would shut her right up.

“And I need to get really drunk,” Felix states, all of a sudden.

It’s the first words he’s spoken since he got out of his room, and while you look at him in surprise, the other two seem used to it.

“Then let’s do it,” Jisung claims, clapping his hands.

“I have to go home and change, though. If I show up like that she’ll start a rumor I’m homeless or something,” you sigh.

Jisung waves his hand. “That’s fine. I’ll come with you and help you choose a killer outfit. You guys meet us there, yeah?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get Chris when he emerges from the deep,” Minho nods.

Jisung takes your hand and lifts you off the couch. He guides you back to the hallway and slides on his boots.

“You don’t have to come with me,” you say. “We can meet there.”

“I wanna see your place,” Jisung simply responds.

Maybe you should be freaked out or annoyed at the game he’s playing. You know he’s just trying to get to know you, that you’re an adventure for him, but it also feels like he wants to assimilate as much as he possibly can before time runs out. It’s cute, but it’s also unnerving. What will he do with all this knowledge of you, once he leaves? Will he forget? Will you become a fond memory, or one that will fade away over time?

You shouldn’t indulge him, because you’ll probably end up getting hurt. But at the same time, it’s stimulating for you, too. Letting someone in. Letting him see who you are, every part of you, knowing it’s temporary. Then he can walk away, carrying pieces of you. There’s a beauty to that you can’t yet grasp.

When you arrive at your place, you let him walk around to look at what he wants, heading for your room. It’s not a big apartment, nor is it in perfect shape, but you made it yours. You and Changbin took the lease most particularly for the bathroom, which is more spacious than any you’ve seen in the city. In exchange, both of your bedrooms are kind of tiny, but it’s not like you have people over very often. If you do, it’s agreed you’ll find another place to stay for the night.

You remove your clothes of the day, changing your underwear and slipping on a short leather skirt. You’re zipping it up when the door of your room opens on Jisung, who strolls in like he lives there.

“What the fuck?” you let out, covering your chest - you’re only wearing a bra.

“You told me to make myself at home,” Jisung smirks, sitting down on your bed, sliding his hand on your comforter.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Come on,” he says. “You’re almost dressed already. Love the skirt. Is this the shirt you’re planning on wearing?”

He lifts the piece of clothing, a black tank top that laces on the front, and hands it to you. You snag it from his hand, slipping it on swiftly. He eyes you up and down.

“What about accessories?”

He stands up, walking to your dresser, and opens your jewelry box. You stare at him, absolutely mind blown at his behavior.

“Oh. Love that. That’s hot,” he says, handing you a lace choker you haven’t worn in ages.

“Having fun playing dress-up, are we?” you laugh.

He winks at you, and proceeds to choose the rest of your outfit. Cherry earrings, silver rings, and loose hair. Once he’s done, he twirls you around, biting his lip.

“Perfect,” he says, slipping a hand on your waist to pull you close. “Thoroughly fuckable, if I might say so.”

“Thanks?” you answer with a giggle.

“Y/N,” he breathes, taking a step towards you. “C’m’here.”

Before you can answer anything, he plunges his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling your smell, and places a kiss there that sends shivers all over your body. You close your eyes.

“Jisung…”

“It’s not the outfit,” he says, shaking his head. “I’ve thought about fucking you all day.”

You do your best not to let out a moan right there, instead biting your lip hard as he keeps kissing your neck.

“Jisung,” you breathe. “I just got dressed.”

“I don’t want you to undress.”

You frown as he pushes you towards the bed. You lay down, eyes on him. Outside the blue is fading to black, enveloping the room in a heavy purple, and there’s something earnest and intimate about it. You’ve been on edge ever since that kiss he gave you - and you’ve so desperately wanted to know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t been interrupted.

You have somewhere to be, but you don’t care. Jisung is at your apartment and visibly also wants to pick up things where you left them off. You are not going to waste the opportunity.

Jisung’s hands spread your legs, his lips leaving a trail of wet kisses on your thighs.

“Just want to get a taste,” he mutters.

Your breath hitches as he pushes up your skirt, lips brushing your skin. He makes his way between your legs, finally setting his mouth on your underwear. At this point you are writhing around him, desperate for a direct touch.

“Getting wet for me so fast,” he breathes. “How can I resist you?”

“No one talked of resisting,” you answer in a sigh.

He chuckles. “Fair point. Can I?”

You nod, and he draws your underwear aside, leaving you exposed to his eyes. You spread some more for him, pulling up your skirt, and he does not waste another second. His lips embrace your wetness, his tongue swirling around your clit. You let out a shaky sigh, your fingers reaching for his hair. Your thoughts wander, far away from your reach, as you just enjoy Jisung’s caresses.

He hums against you as you roll your hips against his mouth. It’s working wonders for you, your pleasure building quickly.

“That’s good, baby,” he breathes. “Make yourself come in my mouth.”

You’re hot, your body tense, Jisung making out with your cunt. His tongue makes a quick work of it, and you come not long after. You shiver delightfully, and it takes you a while to come down. As you do, Jisung gently replaces your underwear where it was, contemplating the drenched fabric with a satisfied smile.

“Now you can walk around all evening in your soaked underwear, courtesy of me, and I’ll have your taste on my tongue,” he says in a low voice, his smirk all the right kinds of dirty.

You’re still riding the high of your orgasm, so you don’t really find the right words. You just smile at him.

“You’re fucking insane.”

“Just trying to enjoy the time I have.”

The taxi drops you off in front of your friend’s house. Jisung hands him a few bills and comes to stand next to you, admiring the place.

It’s huge, outrageously so, the typical rich person’s, and you absolutely hate it. From the judgemental look on Jisung’s face, so does he.

You put a hand on his shoulder. “You asked for it.”

Felix, Chris and Minho are already inside, according to Jisung’s phone, and it takes you a while to find them - the house is packed and loud.

“Have you seen Changbin?” you ask them, but they shake their heads.

You check your phone - no news from your friend. He’s probably running late or has a last minute hold up. You decide to stick around anyway. You’re dressed up, you’re here, and you have company.

You get drinks and sit between Jisung and Chris. You talk a lot to the latter, who, now that he doesn’t have his head in his computer, proves to be really fun company. You discuss productivity and creative slumps, interrupted here and there by the occasional fan asking for an autograph or a picture. Jisung is busy playing cards with Minho, his hand on your thigh. Felix is flirting with a few people, drinking fast, his smile widening with every second.

When your friend comes into your field of vision, and eyes you with annoyed envy, you are so happy you could sing. You wish her a happy birthday, the band too, and for once she has absolutely nothing to say.

“Changbin didn’t come?” she asks as a last resort.

“Sorry, he couldn’t make it,” you reply with a fake pout, trying to hold back your laughter.

When she leaves, dumbfounded and annoyed, you laugh hysterically with Jisung for so long you have tears streaming down your cheeks and your sides hurt.

As the night advances, Jisung’s hand rides higher and higher on your thigh. His eyes get glassy with the alcohol, as do yours - in fact, everyone gets pretty wasted. Chris and Minho share a joint, keeping an eye on Felix. Despite the chaotic ambiance around you, you five stay pretty calm, chilling on the couch you claimed, talking or playing silly games.

A few other people join you for a classic game of never have I ever - except you’re all too drunk already to play with drinks, so you agree on changing the rules. If you have, you kiss the person to your right.

“Never have I ever been naked in public,” Felix proposes.

His eyes are lit up like fireworks, and he stares at Chris, who shakes his head.

“Oh my gosh…”

“You HAVE to, Chris!” Felix cackles. “We all saw you!”

“What’s the story?” you ask, laughing.

“Nothing interesting. You don’t want to know,” Chris sighs.

“I do!” you retort.

“A simple story, really,” Minho explains, twirling a joint between his fingers. “He went to take a shower at the camping site we were staying at, and I stole his clothes.”

You all burst out laughing, and Felix claps his hands.

“C’mon, now. Kisses. On the mouth.”

Felix receives a kiss from the girl next to him, which surprises him - and Chris turns to you.

“It’s the game, right?" he laughs. "Sorry, Ji.”

“No harm, man.”

“You’re okay with it, right?” Chris asks you.

You nod, amused. Chis leans in, a smirk on his face, and slides his fingers in your hair. His lips are plump, kissing you gently, and you feel yourself melt a little. You almost don’t want to stop, your hand falling against his chest. The booze makes your tongue act on its own, dancing with his, and Chris indulges. It takes a minute before you lean back, falling back on the couch.

“Fuck, damn,” you laugh. Your cheeks are red. “You’re a good kisser.”

“So are you,” Chris smiles.

“That was hot,” Jisung lets out with a solemn nod.

You hide your face in his neck, giggling like a teenager, and the game continues. At the next question, Minho kisses the guy next to him, and you appreciate the sight a little too much. Your senses are getting tangled - between the booze, the weed, Jisung’s warm fingers around your thigh, Chris’ tongue and the sight of so many people making out, you’re officially horny.

It doesn’t help that you still feel your wet underwear against your cunt, reminding you of the joys of Jisung’s tongue.

You bite your lip, waiting for the right moment. Finally, a girl asks never have I ever stolen a car, and nobody moves - except you. You fall against Jisung, pulling him into a needy kiss. The people around you start yelling and laughing.

“What the fuck!”

“STOP MAKING OUT, WE NEED THE STORY,” Felix screams.

“I don’t think we’ll get the story tonight, bro,” Chris tells him with a chuckle.

He’s right, because you’re lost in your kiss, Jisung’s hands all over you. You don’t even care that there’s dozens of people around. You devour his lips, get drunker on his taste. You want him, you need him - and he kisses you deep and passionately. One of his hands grip your ass and you moan softly.

“I think we’ve lost them,” Minho says.

“Hey,” Chris says in your ear. “Get a fucking room.”

A giggle escapes your mouth and Jisung pulls away from you. His lips are already swollen, and the sight is so attractive you have no idea how your legs are able to hold your weight as he pulls you on your feet.

“Have a good time,” Felix sings as you walk away.

You wave at them, letting Jisung guide you through a house neither of you really know. You stumble through the crowd, stopping to kiss sometimes, and you can’t wait to be alone. It’s proving to be complicated, though, because every door you come across is either locked or already has people busy behind it. You scoff and snicker until you find a door that has a piece of paper taped on it.

PRIVATE DO NOT ENTER

You exchange a knowing look with Jisung. No words needed. He turns the handle and you see stairs leading down. You close the door behind you, lock it, stumbling down the stairs to the basement.

When you get there, you gasp.

It’s a beautiful room, with thick, fancy carpets and the biggest TV you’ve ever seen. There’s a bar in the corner, and on a wall, a collection of guitars. You stare in awe at everything, Jisung standing behind you, kissing your neck.

“Holy shit,” you whisper.

For a second you forget all about Jisung, running towards the guitar displayed on the far right. It’s the same, you realize. The exact same model.

“That’s a rare one,” Jisung says, sliding next to you. “Worth a fortune.”

“My mom had one,” you tell him with a smile. “She found it at a flea market. Guy had no idea what he had. She paid 11 dollars for it.”

Jisung smiles even more widely. “It was meant to be.”

“Yeah.”

You smile fondly at the memory. It soothes you, envelops you. You forget where you are, for a second, although your entire body is drunk on Jisung.

“You play?” he asks you, his eyes not leaving yours, his hand putting a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“A little,” you admit.

“Then let’s hear it.”

“No, Ji, you can’t touch -”

You might not know him that well, but one thing you are learning about Jisung is that he does not care. So it’s without hesitation that he grabs the guitar from the display and hands it to you. You laugh, carefully taking it.

You sit down on the floor, the guitar in your arms, and you gently brush the strings. Jisung sits in front of you, leaning against the back of a couch.

Before you know it, you’re playing a melody you know like the back of your hand. With your eyes closed, and just the sound of music to guide you, it all feels like a dream. The basement, the party, even Jisung, it all fades - you’re alone with the guitar for a few seconds.

When you open your eyes again, at the end of the song, Jisung is staring at you with wide eyes and a parted mouth.

“A little?” he repeats.

You laugh. “Ok. More than a little.”

“You didn’t tell me you’re a musical genius.”

“I’m not.”

He lifts an index. “I’ve heard a lot of people play the guitar. I’m not just saying this. I think I’m lowkey in love with you, now.”

You smile at him, at his dark hair and his round eyes, at the line of eyeliner under them, at the choker around his neck, at the red and black sweater you were gripping desperately minutes ago.

“Same to you,” you admit.

He grins and crawls over to give you a kiss. The guitar falls beside you, immediately forgotten. Jisung hums against your lips.

“I want to fuck you,” he tells you in a hoarse voice.

“Yes please,” you answer, and he laughs.

You remove his sweater and let your fingers wander around his chest, touching his skin. It feels warm. Still kissing you, he unlaces your top, cupping your breasts. He teases your sensitive nipples, drawing a soft cry from your lips. You arch your back, thrusting your hips against his. You can feel his hard cock under his jeans, and you can’t resist wrapping your hand around the bulge to stroke him. Jisung grunts in your mouth, and suddenly bites your lower lip.

You jump in your surprise, letting out a moan.

“Keep moaning for me, baby,” he whispers, gliding his teeth across your lips. “You sound so hot.”

“Fuck, Ji. I’ve been dreaming about that cock.”

You unbuckle his belt and take him out of his boxers. He’s hard, and you lift your hand to your mouth, slowly licking your palm. You keep your eyes on him while you do it, and he stares back at you, mouth parted, taking in the sight. Then, you start to stroke him, coating his length with your spit.

“I’m going to fucking ruin you,” Jisung growls.

He roughly takes your hand away, enclosing his fingers around your wrist, and pins it against the carpet. He lays you down as you bite your lip in amusement, glancing at his erection - and you can almost see him pulsating. He doesn’t let go of your arm, pushes up your skirt and pulls down your panties at the same time, and slides his fingers against your pussy.

You shudder as he chuckles.

“You’re still so fucking wet, baby.”

“It was all the kissing,” you admit with a smile.

You kiss his jawline, his neck, his ear, as he keeps rubbing his fingers against your wetness. You’re clenching around nothing, your hips moving in search of pressure - but Jisung keeps his caresses light.

“Chris got you good, didn’t he?”

“He did,” you breathe, although you can barely find the words.

“Got me, too, to see you make out,” he replies, keeping his voice low. “Maybe one day I can watch you fuck.”

As he says the words, he inserts two fingers inside of you, and you let out a choked whimper.

“Fuck, Ji, don’t say shit like that,” you cry out.

“Why not? Wouldn’t you want to?”

“Right now, I just want you,” you say, and you mean it.

He smiles against your lips as you kiss him. You sit up slightly, and he liberates you, taking his fingers out of you. He slides them into his mouth, cleaning them.

“The taste was almost gone,” he explains, and you smile.

You give yourself a boost to turn him around so you can straddle him. You place yourself so your folds grind against his cock, swaying your hips slowly. He lets out a deep breath, and you throw your head back. Your hands sprawl on his chest as you keep moving, and you know you’re making a mess, smearing your wetness on his skin, but you don’t care.

“Fuck, yes, baby,” he moans.

You glance at him with a smile.

“You like that?”

“I do. Are you coming?”

“I’m close.”

“Then stop. I want you to come around my dick.”

Not that you could refuse him. He takes out a condom from his back pocket - you don’t question why he would have that ready - and hands it to you. You get him ready, your fingers trembling slightly.

“Going to pound that pussy so good,” Jisung whispers to you, placing your hair behind your ears, cupping your cheek.

You rub his length against you to lubricate, and then slowly ease him in. A curse escapes your lips, and Jisung secures his hands on your hips. You accelerate gradually, and soon you are fucking him, your capacity to think escaping you. He helps you by bucking his hips, deepening the thrusts.

One of his hands travels across your stomach, squeezes your breast.

“So pretty,” he moans.

“You’re so fucking deep inside me,” you breathe out.

“C’m’here, baby,” he grunts, pulling you towards him, so you lean against his chest.

He places your arm behind your back, pinning you in place, and your knees fall on either side of him. Then, he starts hammering into you. The way he holds you, you can barely move, and the sensation is so intense it instantly makes you see stars.

“Holy shit, Ji,” you whimper. “I’m coming…”

“Come, pretty thing,” he whispers in your ear.

You come undone around him, shaking violently as he keeps you in place. Your moans echo through the basement, and maybe you’re being too loud, but you don’t care. You’re pretty sure no one can hear you above the deafening music from upstairs, anyway. Jisung continues to thrust into you, placing a few languid kisses on your neck until you’ve come down. Only then does he slow down.

“How was that, baby?” he asks, still rolling his hips.

“So fucking good.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” he smiles. “Stand up for me.”

You nod and manage to push yourself on your wobbly legs. You lean against the couch, and a part of you just wants to lay down on it. But Jisung has another idea. He stands up as well, pulling you in his arms.

“Sit here,” he says, and pats the back of the couch.

He pushes the hair away from your face, kissing you deeply, his cock brushing your pussy. He’s still so hard - you know he’s not done with you. You settle on the top of the couch, spreading your legs. Jisung takes his pulsating cock and guides it inside of you again, keeping your legs apart.

You’re already getting too used to having him there, because your body hums in approval, and your pleasure immediately starts building back up. It feels like he’s filling every inch of you, his breath heavy on your neck, thrusting into you in deep, languorous moves.

“Fuck, you’re good at this,” you mutter.

“It’s because you take me so well, baby,” he grins. “But I like your compliments.”

You bite your lip. “Praise kink?”

“Y’know it.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, kissing his earlobes, licking his neck. You start to suck at the skin there, intent on leaving a trace, and he growls.

“You’re look so fucking sexy right now, Ji,” you breathe in his ear. “I love your cock. I love how you fuck me with it. You’re so beautiful and you made me come so hard.”

You feel him twitch inside of you, and you can’t help but smile. You hum, planting a few kisses along his jawline.

“Is there anything you can’t do, Ji?” you breathe, although he starts thrusting into you so hard you have a hard time aligning your words. “Such a good kisser, and you… You fuck so well… And the way you play…”

He moans, slamming into you. The sound of your voice, of his breathing, of his skin slapping against yours becomes a blissful symphony.

“When I saw you playing the drums… Fuck, I just fell in love with you,” you say.

You don’t know how you’re still talking because he’s moving faster and faster, bringing you to the edge again.

“Your fingers around the sticks… The way you hit the drums… So fast and brutal…”

“Fuck, baby…” he whimpers.

“You’re magic, Ji,” you cry out. “Everything that you are is magic.”

He moves his head to capture your lips again, and you moan in his mouth. Your kisses are feverish, disorderly.

“I’m coming again,” you moan.

“Don’t hold it back, baby, fuck, keep clenching like that,” he says.

You’re seconds away from coming when he does, and the feeling of his cock bursting into you is almost too much to handle. Your orgasm reverberates in your entire body, his too - and after a few seconds of delightful chaos you breathe out against each other, panting.

When you’re able, you open your eyes. His remain closed, and you admire the sweat on his skin, the slightly smudged makeup. You must look as much of a mess as he is.

You place a chaste kiss on his lower lip, and he opens his eyes to smile at you.

“I don’t want to move,” he says.

“Me neither,” you admit.

“Let’s just stay like that for a few more seconds.”

You nod, your head falling on his shoulder. After a minute, however, your legs start to waver, and you reluctantly move away from each other. Luckily there’s a bathroom in the basement, so you go together to clean up. He helps you lace your top back on and you insist on putting back his belt yourself.

He strokes your hair. Kisses you on the temple. Keeps your hand in his as you walk back upstairs.

You feel dizzy. You feel good.

This is dangerous.

Jisung will be leaving soon.

He’ll forget you and you’ll have to do the same.

All in good time.

Felix has fallen asleep on Chris’ shoulder, who is texting on his phone. Minho is playing a card game with the guy from earlier - when you approach them, he gives you a nod.

“You two look fucked out.”

“Let’s go home,” Jisung says, ruffling Minho’s hair.

You watch as the two boys walk away, their arms thrown around each other’s shoulders. Although you’re exhausted your smile doesn’t leave you, and you help Chris wake Felix. The guitarist groans but still follows you, and you steal a bowl of chips on your way out so you can eat them in the taxi.

You get to the band’s rental and everyone heads for their bedrooms - you leave the empty bowl on the kitchen counter, following Jisung to his bed. You both fall against the mattress, entangling your limbs together, and you sleep.

Thank you for reading! I really hope you liked it, please let me know if you did. See you soon for part two!

#han smut #han x reader #han x you #han x y/n #han jisung smut #han jisung x y/n #han jisung x reader #han jisung x you #skz smut #skz x reader #skz x you #skz x y/n #stray kids smut #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you

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steddie-interactions · 2 years

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An Hour Before Closing

Inspired by this post: x Short little ficlet, nothing more. Robin helps Steve talk some stuff out. Support, comfort, and platonic love.

Steve continued to rewind the VHS, knee bouncing as he spoke. His words were fumbling out as if they needed to be said at a fast pace or else they'd never get out. All the while Robin is nodding her head along to his ramblings.

"I'm just saying," Steve looks away from her to load in the next tape. "He's the most beautiful person I know and he's very attractive but like," Air escapes from him in a huff. "That's gay and I'm straight."

The machine continues to stay on standby, its jaws wide open to receive another tape, but Steve is just staring at it. With a posture resembling a person who looks tired, he pinches the bridge of his nose with a deflating sigh. "I mean, I've dated lots of girls, Robin. I've had, well... you know, sex. I didn't hate it or get grossed out by that, so I am not gay."

"It's okay to have feeling like this," Robin starts while putting a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly. "Seriously, Stevie. It doesn't necessarily mean you are romantically involved or that you're a gay person. Not that being one would make any of us see you differently."

Steve finally looks at her again and Robin smiles before continuing, "Just means that you have a very great friendship. And hey," She wiggles her brows. "Even straight people can admire the same sex in a complimentary way."

Robin had expected him to smile or maybe even chuckle — something else that wasn't staring at her as if she grew another set of eyes on her face. Then he spoke in such a calm manner as if stating the weather conditions outside.

"Yeah, but I'd fuck him."

Robin blinked as she digested this, trying to not gawk at the blatant statement that Steve just admitted to. "Uh, well, yeah... Yeah, that changes a couple of things."

"What do you mean?"

Robin put her other hand on his vacant shoulder while leaning down a fraction more to level their gaze. "Stevie, there's more than just straight and gay — so much more and there's no true or wrong way to go about it. You might be bisexual or pansexual or even demiromantic — who knows. Labels are just labels and not everyone fits perfectly into some box. I say," Robin gentle poked the center of Steve's chest. "Follow your heart."

"Easier said than done," Steve gently pushed, the chair rolling backward, successfully putting distance between them.

"True," her hands picked up the forgotten VHS and popped it into the machine, starting it up. "But you'll never know the answer to all those questions in your head if you don't start asking — or, well, confronting things." Robin watched Steve get up and walk around the counter to start putting away the tapes ready to go back on the shelves.

"Besides," She continued, "like I said, we won't judge you. I definitely won't look at you any differently. You are still Steve - the hair - Harrington to me — us. The kiddo's might ask a few questions but that's just how kids are. I'm sure even Nancy will support you."

With his back facing Robin, Steve shut his eyes. "I hope you are right, Rob. I really do." His gaze refocused and he looked over his shoulder to his coworker. "Now, enough about me and my problems. You gonna' help me wrap things up or do you wanna' stay after closing?"

"Oh, yeah, no — I could do without that." She grabbed a few tapes from the cart after rounding the counter. "And Stevie?"

"Yeah?"

"I love ya', you dork."

Steve smiled softly at that, "Love you too, dork."

#Steddie adventures #(← my tag for ficlets)#steddie ficlet #steddie #steddie imagine

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orionares · 2 years

Text

Whumptober, Day 4

Hidden Injury

NCIS: Los Angeles

---------

2002

"Up and at 'am, blondie!"

Officer Marty Deeks lifts his head off of the cot and groans at the sharp pain that runs from his shoulder blade down to his hip. He's sure something is broken, sprained at a minimum, after fighting off a low level gang member with a metal pole.

Sergeant Michael Ferguson appears over Deeks and kicks the foot of the metal cot. The vibrations from the bed sends another sharp pain across his shoulder so painful that Deeks winces.

"For someone who has enough time to rat out other brothers and sisters in blue," Ferguson sneers, "You seem to have a lot of time on your hands. Let's go."

"Where-" Deeks swings his legs off the bed and sits up to a wave of nausea,"- are we going?"

Ferguson opens his mouth and then pauses to read Deeks' pale skin. "Undercover too much for you, rat?"

The term rat stings, even six weeks after Deeks' testimony to IAB about two dirty cops. As the rat, he's found himself talking to no one, trusting no one and as of now, relegated to the worst undercover jobs available.

"I'm fine," Deeks lies. The lie, as he's learned, is safer than the truth.

I should probably be in a hospital right now.

I feel so alone right now that it's suffocating me.

I'm positive no one will care if they find I'm injured anyway.

2012

Get your ass back here for a stint. Tell the little ninja you'll be back in three days. -Bates

Three days, like every other last minute undercover stint, is wildly off.

The stint- infiltrate a crew of robbers going after a string of homes in Beverly Hills- takes seventeen days.

Seventeen days of being surrounded by highly paranoid, itchy trigger finger crew. Very little sleep, very little food and water that isn't energy drink and donuts.

Seventeen days where Detective Marty Deeks is on his own, back in an element of only relying on himself. He's still in a flight or fight state when he's with NCIS with his guard down only a hair when he's with Kensi.

And because of his luck, the stint ends exactly on day seventeen- 4:30, actually- when he's thrown through a plate glass window.

—---------

Unlike the previous times he's walked into work, Deeks receives a few concerned looks from his team.

He hobbles over to his desk and lowers himself in with a sigh. Sam, as warm and friendly as expected, raises an eyebrow at him and motions to the small cut on his forehead.

"What's that for?" Sam asks. Deeks glances over to Callen, who watches with an impassive look on his face and Kensi, who watches him with concern.

"Ah, it's nothing. Had a boring stint with LAPD," Deeks lies. No, he will not mention the six stitches, the mild concussion and the signing himself out against medical advice.

The reactions are as expected- Sam and Callen share a look that reminds him of dismissing a child while Kensi eyes him worriedly. Her look lingering on him gives him hope that she'll dig for answers in front of the boys.

Instead, Kensi gives him a short nod that says you and I are going to talk about this later, reserved for conversations that usually happen one on one.

And in the meantime?

"What'd I miss? Hetty finally getting Granger to smile?" Deeks jokes, earning a snort from Callen, a small smile from Kensi and an eye roll from Sam. The detective settles in the silence until he meets the gaze of Hetty from across the bullpen.

It's an all knowing, near omniscient look the operations manager gives him from across the bullpen. It's a look that screams many messages that'll eat at him for the following days.

You aren't going into the field. I hope you knew that when you signed yourself out of the hospital AMA.

I will be having words once again with Lieutenant Bates regarding your undercover stints.

You can tell them. You aren't alone.

Deeks swallows, dropping his gaze. I've been alone for so long- the temp- for so long. Easier said than done.

2022

"It's always fun for us to share and care about our feelings with the FBI and LAPD," Investigator Marty Deeks wonders aloud, earning an eye roll from Kensi. She tucks her hands into her Kevlar vest and teases, "You are just happy that you got to put that Agent Beckett in his place.

"Damn straight," Deeks replies. He surveys the clean up of the tri- agency task force to shut down a domestic terrorist group. He overlooks the smug Agent Beckett, the scattering of officers and agents until his gaze falls on a young police officer limping towards a squad car.

"Hold on, Kens." Deeks walks towards the officer and clocks him to be a probationary officer by the absent insignia on his sleeve. As he gets closer, the younger man's poor attempts to hide the grimace of pain brings Deeks back to his early days of being an officer .

"You good?" Deeks calls out. The officer stops in his tracks, groans loudly and calls back over his shoulder, "m fine."

"That limp says otherwise."

The officer scoffs and awkwardly hobbles a turn to face Deeks. He's a few inches shorter than Deeks with dark brown hair cut in an undercut. "You don't know me."

"I know you were overeager in there," Deeks replies, nodding towards the entrance of the raided warehouse. "And that you've avoided talking to anyone in the chances of getting called out for getting injured."

The officer's scowl softens into a frown before muttering," No one needs to worry about me. Look, I don't know what kind of things you've heard , Agent-"

Investigator, Deeks corrects silently. "Look. All I can tell you is to go check yourself out by paramedics because killing yourself and hiding injuries won't give you what you're looking for as a cop. Take it from an ex-cop who was alone most of his career. One who isn't alone anymore."

Recognition sparks in the younger man's eyes. "You're…uhh, Deeks?"

Deeks extends his hand forward and as the man shakes it, he replies, "Investigator Deeks, actually for NCIS. Go get yourself checked out-"

"Officer Morgan," the younger man pipes. He gingerly touches his ribs and admits, "I think I broke a rib."

"I've lost count how many of those I've broken," Deeks chuckles. "C'mon- let's get you looked at."

#ncis la #densi #marty deeks #hetty lange #g callen #sam hanna #whumptober2022 #no.4 #hidden injury

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kindahoping4forever · 1 year

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Hey there!! Hope you're doing well with all the craziness this week with tickets and stuff!! Personal wise and 5sos related things wise hahahaha I'm here to ask you a question if you don't mind...🙃 My friend and I are considering getting soundcheck for one of the concerts but the thing is, we're not entirely sure what that entails 🤷‍♀️ We would love to know a little bit about it to make sure it's gonna be worth it spending that money... Have an amaaaaaziinig day!!

Sure, I'd love to help! I did soundcheck for the first (and second lol) time last year during Take My Hand and I'd say it made for a very fun and special but exhausting day.

Things will likely vary slightly this time since there are now two different soundcheck packages, with separate activities made available to the top tier. (All the details are available here but essentially, the Friends of Friends package includes the soundcheck experience plus access to a private lounge with photo ops, drinks and merch shopping.) But the traditional VIP experience has you checking in with VIP Nation in the early afternoon (you'll receive an email a few days before explaining what time to be there by and where you'll check in for your line number and laminate. At my shows, check-in officially began at 2pm, with soundcheck scheduled for 4:30 and to my memory, it began closer to 5) and waiting in line while everyone gets sorted. (They had a merch stand near the line for us to shop while we waited but I'm unclear on if that's just for the FoF package now.)

When it's time, you're led into the venue (according to the number you were assigned when you checked in) and after a bit more waiting, the band comes out and plays a song (occasionally it's something from the setlist, but typically it's not. Afterwards, they sit on the stage and a short Q&A session begins. (This appears to only be available to the FoF package now but previously, in the VIP Nation check-in email, there would be a Google form for fans to submit a question for the band. If your question is chosen, you're pulled aside during the check-in process.) This part is fun vibes (I think they expect silly questions and are game for it but they clearly get excited when someone asks something of actual substance) and after they answer a handful of questions, maybe 5-10 depending on how long Ashton talks the answers are, they get up and play another song. That concludes soundcheck and then typically you're allowed to stay inside the venue and take advantage of the low lines for merch, restrooms and concessions before the doors open to the rest of the public.

So the actual soundcheck is probably only a 30-45 minute experience but you do get 2 extra performances (and there's often fun, unexpected choices! At my first show, they did Valentine and Long Way Home and for my second, they did Moving Along and Voodoo Doll lmaooo) and to basically chill out with them during the Q&A. A lot of people also appreciate the exclusivity of the experience, as phones and cameras are prohibited (there were unfortunately multiple instances of leaked content last tour but for the most part, what truly happens during each soundcheck is a mystery to all but those in attendance lol). Also if you have GA for your show, being let into the venue before the majority of attendees is absolutely a bonus (my shows were GA, which I hate so honestly the early entry was the main reason I upgraded). The only real downside to it tbh is that it makes for an extremely long day, especially if you're GA (and depending on where your venue is located, you may be waiting for soundcheck in heat/direct sun). Your frame of reference could be different of course, but I am traditionally not a GA girlie nor a line camping girlie, so I was dying by the end of the night after being on my feet basically non-stop for 9-10 hours. (Oh, the gloriously ravenous Taco Bell feast that took place when we got back to our hotel 🤌🏻) But otherwise, it's a lot of fun and if you can afford it, I think it's worth giving a shot at least once, to have the experience!

#planning food can also be tricky tbh but if you check in early enough you might be able to run somewhere nearby and grab something #or just eat at the venue after soundcheck which is what we did #another expense tbh but necessary #i can't afford soundcheck this time around but if i could i would consider it just for the bonus songs tbh #i lucked out so hard last time - Valentine and Moving Along are the two songs off YB I was devastated to see go from the setlist #and LWH is my fav self-titled track and i never ever ever expected I'd be able to hear it live. v special moment in Crystal history #Voodoo doll was hilarious - someone had a sign saying they'd give them $5 to play it. So Michael took their money and they did lmaooooo #And then they had to spend the next 5 mins reminding each other how it even goes and who sings what. Iconic behavior #so it's those kinds of moments that you're paying for really tbh. no footage exists of it! but if you were there you were there! 😎#also they'll be in non-stage clothes which means tight t shirts or tanks or severely unbuttoned button downs 👁️👁️#if that's something that matters to you 👀#except also Michael wore jorts to like 90% of soundchecks last year so as always with this band things can be a gamble 😂#anyways lmao #lmk if i can continue to be of help! 💙#ask #anon #the 5sos show tour

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naoko-world · 2 years

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Day 3 of the Encantober and I'm again providing you with a short story! After killing Bruno I killed another member of the family, I hope you'll like it! I promised I'm not making it an habit.

@encantober-official don't forget me!

Encantober day 3: Tragedy

Casita was falling all around them. Félix was calling for Mirabel, warning her about the danger of Casita falling. Pepa was asking her to get out. Julieta and Agustín were trying too, but she didn’t listen. She was only busy saving the candle, saving this damned miracle they didn’t even need. They needed her though; Camilo didn’t know what he’d do if Mirabel was hurt. He was her best friend, the cousin he shared a room with until they became 5; he didn’t want her to die before they properly made up.

But he couldn’t say anything. What would he say? She wouldn’t listen to him more than she was doing with the grown-ups. She always listened to the grown-ups. Or actually, that’s what he thought he remembered. He wasn’t sure, since he’s 5 he couldn’t spend much time with her anymore.

Casita crumbled, trying to save Mirabel from being crushed, but it must have lost its conscience before it could because the parts stopped moving before reaching Mirabel, who received part of the roof on her body in a loud thud.

When everything stopped, Camilo hurried to her side, along with the rest of the famiy members. With a glance, he also saw a glimpse of green doing the same.

She was lying under Casita’s now destroyed parts, only her legs being currently visible. Camilo tried to be at her side fast, but was beaten to it by a man in a green ruana and black curly hair covered with dust. He got joined by Luisa, who helped him remove the parts of the house. Camilo came then to help too, not wanting Mirabel to stay under there. Maybe she can still be saved!

When nothing was staying on her, the man in the green ruana, that Camilo finally recognized as his lost Tío Bruno, knelt besides her, calling her “Mirabel! Mirabel!” with panic.

Visibly shocked, Julieta called him “Bruno?” Then, kneeling besides her too, holding an arepa she grabbed before approaching “Mirabel...”

He asked without looking at her “Can you save her?”

She tried to make her eat the arepa, crying “I’m trying...”

Camilo knelt near her too, his tears falling on Mirabel's forehead as did grief on him. The urge a transform to hide it came to him, while he remembered he was now unable to. He couldn't hide himself anymore. He was crying.

Besides him, Bruno sobbed "I'm sorry...I told her to save the miracle...I didn’t expect her to go to that kind of extent to do so.”

Julieta reassured him “That’s alright Bruno, it’s not your fault. She was persistent.”

Abuela added “If I didn’t put so much pressure on everyone...”

His mom argued “But if we reacted sooner to save the miracle she wouldn’t...”

Isabela replied “I should have be more honest, not letting myself be caged in an image of perfection.”

Luisa wept “Maybe I should have tried working less, then Mirabel would still be...”

Hearing so many members of his family regretting in front of Mirabel's body progressively became unbearable for Camilo, who ended up exploding with anger, claiming “It's no use to say now what we could have done to avoid Mirabel dying." Then, after facing silence, he kept going, way angrier "How was the miracle even that important anyway? It cost Mirabel’s life and couldn’t save her in the end. It brought us nothing but despair!”

First, nobody replied anything. What could they answer anyway? Even Camilo knew it was impossible to argue against that fact. Then, his family jumped on him to hug him all at once, trying to bring him some comfort. He found himself hard to breathe, while he was trying to process what was happening. Even Bruno had this arms around him, crying loudly with the rest of the family. He tried to escape their grip, but had to give up because of how strong the family was. Isabela finally talked “I understand what you mean, Prima...The miracle gave us so much wonders and we perverted it into a search of perfection.”

Then, Julieta added “Mirabel wouldn’t have liked us blaming ourselves for her, she was strong and determined and nobody could have prevent her to do otherwise.”

Thus before Abuela continued “Now we just have to find a way to prevent anyone to ever die again like she did, because we were locking in our image of perfection.”

Well...It wasn’t what he meant at all. But it’ll do! He finally let himself go into his family’s embrace, crying for his dear cousin.

#encanto #encantober #my writing #encanto ficlet #encanto fanfic #encanto dabble #camilo madrigal #mirabel madrigal #bruno madrigal #julieta madrigal #pepa madrigal #abuela alma madrigal #tragedy

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secret-kpoplibrary · 2 years

Text

Inspiring Romance Pt. 10

Pairing: Yoongi x Plus-sized Reader

Word Count: 3.0k

Warnings: well- there's a sex scene so- oral (f & m receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it yall), praise, body worship, degradation, breeding kink, overstimulation/multiple orgasms- it's my usual real nasty shit lmao

Genre: fluff & smut in equal mostly measure

Summary: You spent years happily taking care of an old man who surprisingly leaves you a huge gift when he passes. To your surprise, this gift has brought his grandson to your doorstep. Unfortunately, his grandson is one frustratingly arrogant piece of work and now thanks to his grandfather you're stuck with him for three months. You're sure his grandfather rolling in his grave watching the two of you fight every day and as much as you'd like to get along with him for his grandad's sake- he just makes it so hard to like him that you think you'll strangle him before he leaves this place. There's simply no way this could be worse.

***

"I love you." Yoongi says quietly and you can all you can do is blink at him in shock. You couldn't have guessed that was the thing Yoongi wanted to tell you.

"You- you what?" You whisper as if speaking any louder will hurt one of you.

"I love you. I love the sound of your voice and the way you laugh. I love the faces you make when you're lost in a book. I love how passionate you are about the things you like. I even love when you tease me for being a dick. I love you."

"I- I love you too. Even though you are a dick sometimes." You chuckle a little.

"You do?" He smiles brightly, bigger than you think you've ever seen him smile.

"Yes Yoongi. I do. Don't worry I'm as surprised as you are." You shake your head.

"You ruined it. Couldn't you be nice for five minutes?" Yoongi pulls you closer to him by your waist.

"Let's be real Yoongi- I wouldn't be me if I was nice through this whole dramatic confession moment." You say draping your arms loosely around his shoulders.

"You're so annoying." He scoffs.

"And yet you love everything about me." You tease.

"I'm about 10 seconds from taking it back."

"You can't do that. Sorry, it's illegal. I literally could have died today."

"I wouldn't have let that happen." Yoongi says with a small frown.

"I know, it was a joke. Stop frowning." You tell him kissing his pouty lips lightly. He jolts back slightly in surprise and blinks at you with his mouth ever so slightly agape. "Are you alright Yoongi?" You giggle at the look on his face.

"You kissed me."

"Am I not supposed to? I figured it would be okay- what with your confession a few minutes ago."

"I just- didn't expect you to."

"Well you're not frowning anymore so- it worked. You look like the shocked emoji now. It's cute. You're cute." You laugh.

"Are you usually this giggly with people you like?"

"It's been a long time since I've liked someone, I honestly don't know. Maybe it's just a you thing." You shrug.

"I'll be honest, I quite like it. It makes me feel a little better about how much I like you. I couldn't have guessed this is how confessing to you would go. I actually wasn't going to confess to you at all honestly so I get why you were so surprised, I tried to hide it because I didn't think any good would come of telling you- but the whole time I just kept thinking if I never saw you again I'd regret not telling you the truth, so after everything that's went down-"

"Yoongi." You cut his rant short by tilting his head to look at you because you're sure he could go on for the rest of the night if you let him.

"Yes?" His answer is breathy, probably because saying so much so quickly left him a bit out of breath.

"Just kiss me." You tell him holding his face in your hands. Yoongi stands and pulls you flush against him as he brings his lips to yours. The kiss is hot and forceful as if Yoongi is trying to feed every emotion he has with this one kiss. One hand leaves his face to tangle in his hair, tugging lightly at the intensity of his mouth against yours and the groan he lets out makes your skin prickly in a most enjoyable way. Yoongi's hands tighten at your hips as he kisses you until you're pulling away to breathe.

"Happy now?" He asks, his voice hoarse and quiet.

"Not even close." You smile pulling him into another kiss, shorter this time because Yoongi's laughter interrupts.

"I like kissing you y/n but what's going on with you?" He chuckles grabbing your wrists to hold your attention. He sits back in his seat at the island.

"I dunno, maybe it's the whole being kidnapped thing." You joke with a shrug.

"Getting kidnapped has you feeling frisky?" Yoongi smiles.

"Yeah maybe." You say giving Yoongi kisses between your words.

"Y/n, love, wait a second." Yoongi chuckles.

"Sorry, sorry. I'll stop." You smile brightly.

"You don't have to stop but if you plan to go any further- I'm not having our first time be in the kitchen." He tells you.

"Oh." You feel your cheeks warm slightly.

"Do you want to go any further?" He asks, looking at you intensely.

"I-"

"We don't have to. We can just stay here and keep kissing if that's as far as you want to go. I won't push you baby." He says. You tug Yoongi's hand to get him out of the chair and take him upstairs.

"Your room or mine?" You ask him at the top of the staircase. Yoongi wraps his arms around you, hugging you to him with your back pressed against his chest.

"Wherever you would be more comfortable lovely." He says kissing your shoulder. Your room it is. The two of you've spent tons of your time together in there already anyway. You pull Yoongi into your bedroom and kiss him again, allowing him to walk you backwards until your legs hit your bed. Yoongi nudges your shoulder for you to lay back on the bed and climbs over you, kissing you again. Yoongi's lips trail to your neck and he quickly finds the spot there that has you tightly gripping his shirt.

"Oh- that feels good." You sigh as Yoongi paints your throat with blooms of red. Yoongi chuckles against your neck.

"Yeah?" Yoongi muses pulling at the end of your shirt. A moment of panic has you flipping Yoongi, a thing you're sure you only manage because you shocked him. You shocked yourself too but you hide your face by coloring his neck with hickeys to match yours.

"Y-y/n, fuck." Yoongi's sentence devolves into a moan. You're sure Yoongi was going to say something about your filp, but his hands on your hips tell you he's sufficiently distracted. Yoongi sits up to help you take off his shirt when you tug on the end. You trail kisses down Yoongi's chest and stomach, enjoying the way the muscles tense and relax under your touch. He hisses when you nip at the skin near his hips as you undo his belt and tug down his pants and boxers.

"Watch it." He warns and you giggle in response as you take him in your hand. He takes in a sharp breath when you squeeze him gently. His length is heavy and hot in your grip. It's red at the tip and Yoongi gasps when you lick it from base to head.

"Fuck." Yoongi grunts, his hands gripping the sheets tightly when you take as much of him into your mouth as you can. You bob your head at an even pace, watching Yoongi's reactions closely. His head is tipped back, his mouth has dropped open, and his fingers are twitching to touch you but he wants you to control your movements. Yoongi's legs tense beneath your hands and in the next moment he pulls you off of him by your shoulders.

"I'm naked and you are still fully dressed." Yoongi says grabbing the hem of your shirt. You push your lips against his but Yoongi is having none of your distraction this time.

"Y/n, lemon drop, what's going on? We don't have to do this if you don't want to you know." Yoongi frowns.

"It's not that I don't want to it's just- well I guess I'm a little nervous." You mutter.

"Nervous? Why?" He asks.

"I hate to say this actually I'm just- paranoid you won't like the way I look." You say quietly. You're embarrassed to admit it, most of the time you're happy with the way you look, but you'd be lying if you said Sunwoo didn't get in your head a bit. You know Yoongi isn't him but what if you actually are hard to look at without clothes. You don't think you'll be able to handle if Yoongi has an adverse reaction to your body.

"Y/n!" Yoongi shakes you.

"Sorry- did you say something?" You blink at him and he lets out a little laugh.

"Looks like I lost you for a moment there lemon drop." He says.

"I- I'm sorry, it's stupid. I feel silly." You shake your head.

"You're stuck in your head. It's not silly and your feelings are never stupid. But I'll remind you, darling, I did tell you that I love everything about you. And I, wasn't, lying." Yoongi says, punctuating his last sentence with kisses between his words.

"Yoongi-"

"Let me prove it to you my lemon drop." Yoongi hums burying his head in your neck.

"What if you don't-"

"I want to see you. All of you, will you let me?" Yoongi asks you. You nod shyly. "I need words lemon drop."

"Yes." You reply breathily. Yoongi slowly peels your shirt off of you and your shorts are quick to follow. Yoongi unhooks your bra with ease and he takes a long moment to look at you. You try hard not to squirm under his gaze.

"Beautiful." He says kissing you gently. When he pulls away, he ducks his head to pull one of your nipples between his lips while his fingers twist and pull the other until both are erect. Your hand goes into his hair as you arch forward towards his mouth. Yoongi's free hand dips between your thighs, gently stroking you through your underwear. "You're already so wet for me baby." Yoongi mutters against you.

"Yoongi- more. Please, I want more." You whimper, tugging his hair.

"God I love you." Yoongi says kissing down your abdomen. He tugs your underwear down your legs and kisses his way up your legs, covering your thighs in more love bites. One more whine pushes Yoongi to finally lick a stripe against your slit. He immediately wraps his lips around your clit, flicking his tongue against the sensitive bundle of nerves. At the same time he inserts two fingers inside you, he curls them immediately, finding that spongy spot that tightens the coil quickly.

"Oh fuck." You moan loudly, arching towards his mouth as your fingers tug at his blonde hair.

"You taste so fucking good baby." Yoongi groans against you.

"Y-Yoongi I'm close." You whimper, under other circumstances you might be shy about how quickly Yoongi is bringing you to the edge but it feels so good you can't bring yourself to care.

"You're close? Wanna cum for me lemon drop?" Yoongi grunts, licking at your clit between his words, fingers still stretching and toying with your inner walls.

"Y-yes." You whine breathlessly, squirming against his tongue.

"Go ahead baby- lemme taste you." Yoongi says, coaxing your orgasm out of you with a few sucks of your clit that have you tumbling over the edge with a low moan. Yoongi's fingers continue to pump in and out of you until your breathing steadies slightly. "I love these too." He tells you as he takes a moment to cover your thighs in hickeys as he watches the way your chest rises and falls. "Fucking gorgeous." Yoongi says coming up to kiss you. You can taste yourself on his lips as his tongue tangles with yours.

"Yoongi- please, please fuck me." You mutter against his lips.

"Greedy girl." Yoongi teases even as he lines himself up with your entrance. His first thrust is slow, making you feel every inch as he stretches you with his dick.

"Fuck." You whimper breathlessly at the feeling of him filling you completely. Yoongi's head drops when he bottoms out, his breathing harsh against your neck at the way your warm heat feels around him.

"Holy shit you feel so good." He groans pulling out and rocking his hips forward back into you. He does this a few times, slowly filling you until you start to whine for more.

"Yoongi- more, please- need more. Fucking wreck me." You pout at him, grinding your hips up against his. Yoongi's hands grip your hips tightly,

"Wreck you? That's what you want baby? For me to completely ruin you? Fuck your pretty pussy until you can't take anymore? Really?" He asks you, his eyes darkening.

"Yes Yoongi. Need it so bad." You groan, pouting more now that he's stopped you from chasing your own pleasure.

"Your wish is my command." Yoongi says immediately changing the pattern of his thrusts, harsh and fast bed shaking movements that have you arching your back. "I'll make this gorgeous body of yours cum so many times for me you'll be shaking before I'm done with you." He grunts, thumbing your clit in time with his thrusts.

"Holy fuck!" You jolt at the sudden contact to your clit. Your hands wrap around him, scratching red lines down his back as he fucks into you.

"Such a pretty little slut, begging to be absolutely ruined." He coos at you as you writhe beneath his ministrations. "I want you to cum for me lemon drop, lemme feel your pussy squeezing my dick hm." He increases the pressure against your clit.

"Fuck- fuck I'm close Yoongi." You force out, your body tensing with the force of your impending orgasm.

"Let go for me baby." Yoongi coaxes and the strain in his voice sends you to another orgasm quickly. "Fuck you look so pretty when you cum. You'll gimme another won't you baby?" He asks you.

"I want to- please make me cum again Yoongi." You whine desperately.

"I will princess, gonna make you cum til it hurts." Yoongi's thrusts haven't slowed even a little as he continues to toy with your sensitive clit to drag another orgasm out of you.

"Shit- shit you feel so good Yoongi. The way you're stretching me out- I love it." You moan, your hands gripping the sheets by your head as Yoongi plays with your body. His other hand travels up to tweak one of your nipples, the added stimulation brings your third orgasm to a head without warning and you release with a shout.

"That's a good girl. Oh I could watch you cum like that all night." Yoongi praises as he continues to thrust into you, sweat making his hair stick to his forehead. Yoongi's fingers keep circling against your clit as you squirm beneath him. "I want another one baby, come on, show me that pretty face again." He mutters.

"F-fuck Yoongi- feels good- feels so so so fucking good."

"Yeah? Feels good? Show me. Show me how good it feels. Cum for me." He tells you.

"T-too soon." You whimper.

"I don't think so lemon drop. I think you can do it. Don't you wanna be good for me?" He asks.

"Y-Yes, fuck yes." You groan at the overwhelming sensations.

"Then cum for me. Now." He grits out adding more pressure to the fingers toying with your clit. To your surprise, on his command your orgasm hits you so hard you see stars. "Good girl." Yoongi hums, though his voice feels far away as you ride out your fourth orgasm- or was that the fifth? You're too dazed to remember. Yoongi takes advantage of your blissed out state and flips you onto your stomach before you come down all the way, thrusting back into you, now chasing his own orgasm as you whimper helplessly into the sheets. "Fuck you feel amazing y/n, squeezing me so tight, and so good too. Taking my dick like you were made for it, letting me use you how I want. Like my own personal fucktoy." Yoongi grunts into your ear.

"Yes, fuck- yes. I am." You whimper, your words slurring together as your mind starts to go numb from pleasure.

"Aw- having trouble stringing together sentences baby? Someone's a bit cock drunk huh." Yoongi taunts.

"Yoongi- please." You mumble pointlessly, gripping the sheets desperately as he rails you relentlessly.

"Please what lemon drop? Use your words. Or are you too fucking blissed out to do that?" Yoongi's hand wraps around your throat and pulls you flush against him. "Fuck I'm gonna breed this fucking pussy so good." He grunts and the idea causes you to clench around him. "You like that baby? Wanna be bred? Fucked full of my cum? Bet you'd look so pretty all swollen with my kid. I can feel your cunt clenching around me princess. I know how badly you want me to fucking own you."

"Yes! Yes- fuck please!" You manage to get out- slurred and loud but intelligible.

"Shit I love the way you beg me princess."

"P-please Yoongi- wan ih so bah." You slur out between moans and whimpers.

"You want my cum that bad? Want me to fill you with it? Breed you til you're pregnant?" Yoongi taunts.

"Yes- please- yes." You whine out.

"You want it so bad- cum for me again baby. Gimme one last one and I'll fill you up like you're begging me to." Yoongi's fingers drop back to your clit. You writhe and squirm even as his hand around your neck holds you mostly in place. "Come on baby. Be a good girl and cum for me. I just want one more from you." Yoongi coos in your ear, toying with your clit until you're panting and shaking against him, cumming with a slient scream. Yoongi lets go of your throat and you fall forward to the bed as he takes your hips and focuses fully on his orgasm. His thrusts get sloppy quickly and soon he's stilling inside of you as liquid heat floods your walls. "Fucking hell." He grunts as his orgasm subsides.

"Lemon drop? You still with me?" He asks.

"Mmm." You answer though you meant to actually say yes.

"Alright well a shower is out of the question for now. Lemme just get a rag and-"

"No." You whine grabbing at his thumb as it's the only thing you manage to grab before he's out of reach.

"I will be right back sweetheart." He kisses your forehead and practically runs into your bathroom to grab a wet rag and gently clean you up a little. "See, I was quick." Yoongi chuckles when he climbs back into bed next to you and you curl into him.

"When you wake up I'm taking you on a proper date. We'll do whatever you want alright?" Yoongi says though he doesn't realize you've already fallen asleep. He looks down at your peaceful face and smiles to himself as he dozes off with his arms wrapped around you. Who would have thought his pops was right about you two being right for each other after all.

***

Part 10/10

Tagged Users: @schokoshaker @tarahardcore @scuzmunkie @yoongiigolden @atomickoala @shesaysweirdthings

#bts #min yoongi #bts suga #werewolf au #werewolf bts #yoongi x reader #plus sized yn #Inspiring Romance

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calehenituse-brainrot · 2 years

Text

Thoughts of You

Cale Henituse | Kim Rok Soo x Transported!Reader

Things are better here, but sometimes there's the feeling of missing the home you never truly had back in Earth.

Cale could only offer his presence to you to help you cope.

WARNING : SELF-HARM SCARS, SELF-HARM IMPLIED

this is just smth i wanted to write down haha im currently dealing with smth and i needed some cale content. this is short because idk i just want to

Cale always thought about you.

Well, more like how you process being transported into another world.

You'd sometimes mention about how you were glad to be away from your previous world — things were getting devastating each day and you always feel so guilty of being worried over one minor thing when so many things needed attention.

You say you don't really want to go back. No one back at Earth will be expecting you and you also have no one to depend on, living in a cramped studio apartment and working a minimum wage job.

"This place is more exciting," you'd say with a smile and eyes closed as if nothing could ever beat the pleasure of getting away from Earth and its troubles.

And then there are certain days.

Some are simple, trivial things.

You'd see something and would think of something back at Earth — Cale knows, because he recognized the glint in your eyes after watching you for so long — and then your lips would curl into a mischievous grin. You'd opened your mouth to say something, perhaps a joke, a reference, or anything, really.

And he sees how the glint in your eyes disappears, your smile dropping once you realize no one would understand what you say. You kept your mouth shut and looks defeated.

"Is something in your mind?"

You'd glance at him for a moment and let out a laugh, "No, not really. Just remembered something."

And then there are things that makes you stay away from others.

There are days where you'll stay in your room, blinds drawn, and bed messy. You won't be seeing anyone, having no energy to answer your door when knocked.

Cale would always make sure the kids understand that you were homesick and to leave you alone for awhile. When he enters your room and sees you wrapped in your blanket and sleeping on your side, he brings the tray of food to your nightstand.

"I brought you your food," he told you, sitting on the edge of the bed. He sees your eyes glance at the tray before looking back at him, silent and unmoving.

It was unnerving to see a usually bright person like this.

"They were in front of your door," he continued. "You should eat."

Your eyes leave him, looking at the windows in which you had closed by pulling on the blind. Cale noticed that your arm was out of the blanket, eying the scars on your wrists.

"I miss them."

Cale looks back at you, seeing your eyes are now glossy. You blinked and a tear fell.

"I would usually check on how my sisters are doing," you continued. "Or my old friends."

This was something Cale could never wrapped his head around about you.

You didn't receive good treatment from those people from the beginning and until when you're transported to this world, and yet you always seem to miss them.

You see them as a part of your current life and did not think of them as your past despite how they all had left you.

"It feels lonely," you say, "To be here."

Cale always believed that he shouldn't try to understand things that are too complicated and harmless — it is better to just let it be.

Cale could never understand some of the things you say, like the jokes, references, and so much more because despite being similar, his Earth never lasted long enough to experience the development yours experience.

But he wants to.

"I told you," he began. "I'm always going to be here."

He wants to understand because he knows he's all that you have in this world.

You slowly sat up, cringing at the headache that came almost immediately. Cale watched you run your hands through your head, massaging the scalp to get rid of the headache.

There's something personal about you allowing him to look at you in this state and Cale holds the fact that you trusted him enough for this close to his heart.

"How's everyone?" You asked, running a hand through your hair and looking at Cale. He sees the dark circles and your bloodshot eyes, your lids a bit puffy.

"Concerned," he answered, short and it was enough. He points at the tray with his chin. "Eat."

"Okay, okay," you mumbled.

Cale accompanied you eat, listening to you talk whenever you have something to say, like how you missed cooking instant noodles, reclining on your couch and watching tv, or how you'd scroll the internet to ease your boredom.

"I guess I do miss Korean foods," Cale would say.

"You wanna try making something if we have the time?"

Cale hummed. "Sure. But once I get my slacker life."

He sees a smile began to bloom on your face that still has sheets marks. You then opened your mouth, grinning as if you were sharing an inside joke with him;

"Sure, sure. Once you get your slacker life."

Cale still has questions whether or not you desired to go back at your original world and as much as he wants to know, he found himself never being able to ask.

Why is that?

He doesn't know.

Maybe he'll get his answer once more time had pass, but for now, he's glad you're here.

#lout of count's family #trash of the count's family #cale henituse x reader #cale henituse #tcf cale #lcf cale

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bontenten · 3 years

Text

Bewitch

Pairings: Osamu x F!Reader x Atsumu; Miyacest WC: 7.4k Genre/Warnings: smut, fairytale retelling (Hansel and Gretel), magic au, dubcon/noncon, incest (miyacest), fear, knife, monster, bondage, snuff, vore, gore/blood, object insertion, body horror, a bit of size, tummy bulge, oral (m.receiving), anal (m. receiving), masturbation (f. & m.), voyeurism, arson...

Summary: The unexpected guests at your cottage have a mysterious past and hidden agenda. Will they allow you to accompany them on their journey?

Travelers are advised not to spend the night in the Dark Woods. It's said that beyond the last hiking trail, past a brook, lives an Evil Witch. That witch is vile and merciless; often, fools lost in the woods are never seen again. It's said that she must be over 800 years old, feeding off of the essences of children and young men unfortunate enough to cross her paths. It’s said that she even eats fellow witches. No one really knows. After all, no one who has seen her has lived to tell the tale.

It's been a few months since your teacher has left you to fend for yourself here in the woods—your first time alone during this apprenticeship. She said she had to attend a big conference with a whole bunch of other grand witches. You asked if you could tag along, but she insisted that you stay and watch the cottage. The lack of company is about to drive you insane so you often resort to conversing with yourself or the forest itself.

The soft moss muffles the sound of your footsteps as you begin the trek back home, a faint off-trail path away from the main road that no one else would usually notice. On any other day, you would just go home without a fuss, but loneliness makes people do some bizarre and odd things. For instance, the desperate longing for companionship leads to you dropping a not-so-hidden trail of fancy pebbles to inadvertently lead someone to your abode.

For most travelers, going off-trail is akin to a death sentence as any wrong turn might lure them into the forest's deadly maze. Not for you though, you know this place very well: every fallen tree, overturned log, the wanted signs nailed to the trunk...

Wait. A wanted sign?

You can make out from your distance that there are two heads on it, but the details are fuzzy, and the bounty looks smudged. Before you can get a closer look, you hear the birds caw in the trees, signaling the beginning of sunset. You pull your attention away from the poster and continue on to your way home.

The cottage is extremely cozy and warm. The windows are bejeweled and the door is solid wood. You live here comfortably with your teacher, after all, learning about the principles of magic and what it means to be a witch. It's much more than curses and spells, as your teacher would tell you, witches have character and a moral compass. Although there are certainly those who decide to experiment with the darker arts.

While you get a fire going in the huge furnace and boil some water on the stovetop, you hear two voices squabbling outside followed by three raps on the door. You're stunned by the noise, turning to face the shut door wondering if you were just dreaming about the noise. Is it? Visitors? No, you must have heard wrong.

"'Samu, I bet it's a farce, let's not." The voice sounds both tired and weary, almost out of breath.

"Let me just try again, I can smell a working kitchen in there, someone is definitely there," another voice insists. Three more knocking sounds. "Excuse me! Is the owner of the house available? My brother and I followed a path of colored stone and came upon your establishment...could you spare us some water? A bite of food?"

Two men, though they sound friendly. You're frozen in the kitchen, staring at the door that remains between you and the strangers.

"Is there someone home?" The second voice tries again. "Please, my brother is not feeling very well."

Your initial wariness for the stranger melts when you hear about the brother, which does not sound like a lie based on the raspy voice you first hear. A witch's character is fundamentally kind to all sentient beings, especially those in need. But you're still nervous, so you end up grabbing a metal ladle before carefully going to open the door. When you crack the door open, you see a pair of twins. Beautiful men, one blonde and one grey-haired. The former, with a quirky grin, although his eyes certainly look lackluster. But the other seems like he's at the right place, eyes peering past you into your home, fixated on your kitchen.

"I'm Osamu. And this," he gestures to his twin, "is my brother Atsumu. We're a bit lost, you see."

You nod your head in a casual greeting and introduce yourself as the resident apprentice at this cottage. As a good host should, you open the door to the weary guests preparing to welcome them in.

"Are we welcomed in?" Osamu asks, not moving from his spot. Atsumu isn’t budging either, arms crossed and only looking at you from the corner of his eye, waiting for your answer.

Without giving much thought you nod and open the door wider. "Both of you are most welcomed in."

"Then we thank you for your hospitality," Osamu says, taking a step inside, dragging his twin with him.

Words, especially spoken words carry power and hold intent. And a witch's words, no matter how careless they slip out, contain magic. Welcome, as you say. So welcome, they are.

You shut the door behind them and prepare to go give your first-ever guests some water. When you turn around, you notice Osamu already in the kitchen, the sleeves of his tunic rolled up past his elbows.

"Your food is about to burn. Heat's too high," he tells you, expertly taking control of the sizzling pots and pans. "I got it, don't worry."

Feeling flustered at the faint smell of scorching food, you hurry over to see if you can be of any assistance. "Let me help out."

"No, it's quite alright."

How can a host let her guests do all the work like that? And the first company in a while too! What an utter failure.

"How—" you try to argue back, but you're cut off by Atsumu tugging on your wrist, dragging you over to the sofa in the corner.

"Don't worry about him, he loves to cook." Atsumu brushes out the wisps of his bangs with a huff. "And actually quite good at it. Anything that goes through his hands...well, in short, all become part of his design."

Like his twin, Atsumu's frame is broad and huge, but there is a quality of emptiness of sorts. Osamu's shoulders are wide but there's more substance to it, whereas Atsumu's form seems contained. You can't help but use your learnings to see if you can figure out just what's off about Atsumu. He's slowly walking around the living room and studying the portraits hanging on the wall. He picks up a frame that is set above the fireplace and comments, "None of these are you. How come?"

"Oh, they're my teacher. I'm just a witch-in-training at the moment, so—"

"A witch?" Atsumu questions, clenching the frame tightly. His hands begin to shake, the glass under his thumb beginning to crack.

You did not expect Atsumu to display such a visceral reaction upon the mention of witches. After all, witches normally stayed far away from ordinary human society and when they do mix, it's often a role of healing. But the look that sparks in Atsumu's eyes, it's almost—feral.

"'Tsumu!" Osamu yells while stalking over quickly from the kitchen. He throws his arm around Atsumu's neck and drags him off into the shadows. You can't make out the muffled voices and deep growling noises that are coming from down the hall.

It's their private matter, so you go back to the kitchen. True enough, Osamu's hands are almost like magic. The bubbling pot of broth doesn't seem to be on the verge of overflowing, the onions caramelizing beautifully, filling the air with deliciousness.

Moments later, the twins come back. You notice that Osamu clothes are wrinkled from tugging Atsumu around, but at the very least, Atsumu is looking much better than before.

The three of you set the table for dinner. Osamu brings out the plates as though he knows the kitchen inside and out already. Atsumu comes emerging from the cellar with two bottles of fine wine that you didn't even know your teacher had stowed away. Surely, she wouldn't mind? With Osamu and Atsumu sitting to the left and right of you at the round table, it almost feels like a more familiar, cozier gathering between friends than a situation of a host and her guests.

They tell you that they have been traveling across the lands for a long time now, looking for a cure for Atsumu's illness. It reminds you of the hollow, repressed form you saw earlier and your curiosity gets the better of you. They don't tell you the nature of the malady, but what they do share is that they are looking for a witch to undo the curse on Atsumu, a result of dark witchcraft.

"I am a witch!" you exclaim, feeling your call to action at the moment. "Please, is there truly nothing for me to help to undo the spell?"

Osamu leans in close to you, and wipes a bit of sauce staining the corner of your lips with the pad of his thumb. He smiles. "We're looking for a very high-level witch. One day, maybe you'll get to the level of magic needed."

"You're too weak," Atsumu bluntly points out. You're sure Osamu means to say the same thing, but Atsumu's words are really sharp.

"I know," you sigh. "My teacher tells me that all the time. So, I'm really trying. I'm sure there's at least something I can do."

"I definitely think that. Don't be so hard on yourself," Osamu comforts. "Have you been living alone here for a long time?"

You feel two pairs of eyes glued onto you waiting for your answer. You smile reflexively before your eyes trail to the empty plate and carefully choose your words. "Yea. Just me and my teacher. She's a grand witch...maybe if you wait here for a few days, you can meet her when she comes back from her conference."

"We—"

"We'll be gone tomorrow!" Atsumu snaps, staring into Osamu's eyes.

Osamu doesn't pay any mind to Atsumu, and puts an extra piece of dessert onto your plate.

"We have a long way to go. Atsumu's condition isn't getting better, so we can't stop in one place for long."

It makes you a little sad, because you were hoping to spend some more time with the twins, both of whom you have grown fond of. Osamu and his gentleness. And even Atsumu, despite his quick remarks and outbursts, adds a particular spice to your mundane life.

"Maybe we'll bring you with us," Osamu comments lightly, "'Tsumu, wouldn't that be nice?"

"She'll just be dead weight," Atsumu retorts. You wonder if he absolutely hates you. Is that why he is always so against you being next to Osamu?

Osamu puts an arm around you and blows on the shell of your ear. It tickles and you can feel his body enveloping you. "But she's so sweet," he tells Atsumu and whispers into your ear, "Aren't you?"

You find your wandering gaze looking into his half-lidded grey eyes. His face is right next to you, lips just hovering barely five centimeters away. The overwhelming presence of him is undeniably alluring. Your breaths become shallow as your heart rate speeds up with desire.

"I'm exhausted! 'Samu you too. We're going to bed!" Atsumu drops the silverware onto his plate and stands up. He comes around the table, muttering curses under his breath. Atsumu grabs Osamu by the wrist and drags him off towards the guest bedroom you have shown them before.

You didn't quite catch Atsumu's angry mutters, but you hear "slut" and "harlot" thrown around a few times. Were they directed at you? No, you're not like that, you tell yourself. Atsumu must have been thinking that you are trying to seduce his twin. After you clear out the table, you decide to clear up any misunderstanding.

You tip-toe down the hall to the guest bedroom prepared to knock when you hear muffled sounds coming from inside. You carefully press your ears to the crevice of the door and clamp a hand around your mouth upon hearing the stream of moans.

"'Samu, 'Samu please, ah—"

That's Atsumu? Your eyes are wide and still trying to process the shock of what you're hearing. You tell yourself you shouldn't be here. You should not be listening to whatever is happening behind the closed door, but you can't help it. Hearing Atsumu's moans makes you want to squirm.

You slightly jump when you hear a slap, followed with a pleasured groan. The sound is so clean it feels as though the phantom hands are touching your own heated skin.

Osamu's chuckle nearly makes your knees weak.

"Don't get cocky, if it were any other day ngh—, any other day, I would be the one pushing you into the mattress."

Slap. "Shut up, cute 'Tsumu. I like you being so needy for me like this. What do you want from me? Tell me."

"Fuck me, 'Samu."

"With pleasure."

The wood creaks loudly and you tell yourself, you really need to get out as you back away and try to quickly walk down the hall back to your bedroom.

You throw the door open and lock the door behind you with a click. With your eyes closed, you try to steady your breath and the building heat in your core. It's quiet. There's no noise coming from their room. But they are twins!

You remind yourself that a witch is all-accepting and kind. There are so many circumstances beyond your understanding, judgement is not a part of your nature. And if what they are performing is wrong, what should you say about yourself? You peel off your clothes and step out of the soaked panty that is proof of your lust.

Pillows are fluffed and covers are pulled over your body. You try to sleep, but each time you are about to drift, Atsumu's cries of pleasure come back into your head. Your hand trails down your navel until the fingertips trace over your clit. Gathering some slick from your cunt, you drag it across the sensitive bud.

You shudder from the touch as images, constructed in your fantasy, cloud your mind. You imagine Atsumu's hands spreading your legs apart and Osamu's teasing words next to your ear. He would tell you to open wide and shove his cock down your throat. You suck on three of your fingers until lips wrap over the knuckles, your saliva pooling from hunger. And slip your fingers into your cunt easily, curling them against the plush walls.

"F-fuck me," you moan into your pillow.

With pleasure.

You quiver, clit pulsating, and your pussy juice dripping into your palm. The wash from the high soon takes you into sleep. All throughout the night, you squirm and feel the phantom sensation of being watched. Not just observed, but studied, by two pairs of glinting hungry eyes. You can almost imagine them on either side of the bed, trapping you into the mattress no matter which way you turn.

A few times the weird feelings almost pull you awake, but you don't dare crack an eye open to confirm your suspicions until the morning light begins to filter through the windows, rousing you from sleep. The air is filled with fragrant herbs and the sizzle of delicious brunch from someone awake before you.

No doubt, it's Osamu, because who else can it be? Atsumu? Please. The twins....

You climb out of bed and stretch your neck on the way to the washroom. Your bedroom door is open, but it's too early to notice that detail.

"Morning!" Osamu greets you from the kitchen. You find a fresh mug of coffee shoved into your hands from him.

You mumble thanks and sip at the brew while watching Osamu fry the eggs. Osamu looks to be deep in thought, probably thinking about something pleasant from the faint smile ghosting on his face. You feel a pang of guilt from both listening to their private lives, and also the strange feelings that maybe they heard your private life too—it's all your paranoia talking.

"You're so talented," you blurt out, fisting the fabric of your long skirt.

"Thanks, but better not let 'Tsumu hear ya, he gets jealous super easily."

Even if Atsumu hears, it's fine. You really mean both of them. Both of the twins both seem super talented as a duo; like they've been out there and seen the world. Meanwhile, you're still stuck here, without company. Would it be possible...if they simply stayed?

Osamu senses the words that are stuck in your mouth and answers them for you. "We're gonna be leaving right after breakfast. There's still lots of ground to cover today," he explains, plating the pancake before preparing to ladle a spoonful of batter for the next one.

"Do you have to leave?" you ask, almost pleading.

"It's cozy here and comfortable. We enjoy your company too, but we have to go. Your teacher would hate us, immensely, and on top of that...let's just say, we're always on the run."

"You say it like you two are fugitives or something."

Osamu chuckles and leans closer to you, hot breath flaming your cheeks, or maybe it's just the heat from the stove. A teasing grin pulls his cheeks up slightly as your eyes flicker over to see his lips spell out, "Maybe. Scared?"

Embarrassed, you take a defensive step back, squeaking and bumping into another body.

"MORNING!" Atsumu announces behind you. He's in good spirits and he has his hands on your waist to steady you; he sniffs your hair and smiles before letting you go. "I smell something delicious."

"Breakfast is ready," Osamu says, plating the pancakes. "Hungry 'Tsumu?"

"Tch." Atsumu shoves past you and knees Osamu, mood doing a complete 180. You're almost left like a fly on the wall as you watch the scene unfold.

Osamu is quick to catch his balance while keeping watch on the stove. "Not awake yet?" Osamu grins and passes him a plate of pancakes, essentially telling him to shut up and eat. "Who shoved a stick up your ass? Go eat."

"Fuck you."

"Hm."

Atsumu grumbles but digs into his food anyway. Osamu catches your amused expression in the corner and explains, "It's always like that between us. It's our...way of showing how much we care."

"I know." It's sort of endearing, the banter between the two brothers. Even if the world turns against them, no matter what the odds are, at least Miya Osamu will have Miya Atsumu, and Atsumu will have Osamu. Perhaps it's exactly that sort of bond the two share that you're envious of. Body and soul. Because if only you could have just an ounce of that sort of familiarity with another. But you're just an outsider without an invitation to join in.

While you're mulling over your thoughts, you don't catch the darkening gazes being exchanged between the twins. At some point, Atsmu's plate is already emptied and the wooden table is cleared while you're still lost in your mind. Osamu is fiddling with the metal tea strainer, bobbing it up and down to brew a mug of tea. He threads a cotton string in and out like it's a plaything.

"Do you really want to be with us?" Osamu asks nonchalantly. "'Tsumu and I were talking about it. If you do, maybe we can work something out."

"I just..." You feel like this is your final chance to tell them that you don't want them to go. None of the going around circle hinting that you have been doing. This is the moment to just tell it to them. If you miss this chance, you feel like you won't have another. And even though a pit pulls at your inwards telling you to reconsider, you're brave. "I just want to be together with you all, and help you cure Atsumu. My teacher is so talented, I'm sure she'll have a remedy."

They grin.

Osamu is a great cook, he can do that. Atsumu sometimes seems lazy, but he's super strong and quick to help too. And you can pick up all sorts of other tasks in the area! Maybe because they're so helpful, your teacher will even let them stay once Atsumu is cured. Maybe they can learn magic too! You have heard of warlocks who are powerful with spells too. And you can already imagine, the three of you, like a team, eventually going out into the world to fight demons and monsters and—

"Open wide," a sultry voice sounds next to you. Backing away automatically, you find Atsumu standing right behind you.

"W-wait," your voice shakes, stuck in your throat. "What are—"

His fingers reach for your mouth, prying it open. Before you can voice your distaste, a warm, metal ball gets shoved into your mouth, the thin chain quickly tangles into your hair. The faint traces of tea seep out of its small holes down your tongue and throat, while some spill out the corner of your mouth like trails of drool down your jawline.

Osamu smiles and wipes the liquid away with his thumb, relishing in how your widening eyes gape at him in confusion.

"Being together," he answers the question you wanted to ask, "is what you want isn't it?" He takes a spool of kitchen twine and begins to secure the tea strainer in your mouth. The thin cotton threads wrap around your head over and over again, tightening the steel against your tongue.

You shake your head and try to take another step away from the man you're beginning to become wary of, but the strong grip of Atsumu's hands on your shoulder prevents you from squirming at all. His fingers dig into your flesh, and when you turn to look at him you catch a glint in his eyes, glowering down at you.

"No, no, no, behave," he taunts you, "listen to 'Samu. He'll make you feel real good, trust me."

With the gag in your mouth, all you can let out are weak, warbling gargles from the back of your throat. Why are you doing this? You weren't like this before? Loud snorts flare out your nostrils from the fear screaming through your body.

Osamu comes back with a paring knife, examining the edge under the sunlight filtering in through the stained glass. He presses the cool blade along your cheek, dragging with the dull edge just enough so the sharp end doesn't cut your skin. You feel your knees growing weak and if not for Atsumu's hold on you, you would sink into a shuddering heap on the floor.

"You know, I think you might be the best meal yet," Osamu compliments, blade trailing down to your collarbone. The tip of the knife toys with the first button, pressing tension on the x-cross stitching. Snap. The first button pops off, dropping onto the wooden floor and rolling away to an inconspicuous corner. "I'll prep you well."

Snap. Snap. Snap. Snap. The knife flicks again and all the buttons clatter on the floor before running away for refuge.

Atsumu has cleared the table already and you find yourself hoisted up and laid onto the surface like a slab of meat on a cutting board. The cold surface presses against the back of your shoulder and ass. Osamu ties your wrist together with a hemp rope and secures the other end around the table leg. He also secures your ankles to two other anchor points.

You're utterly exposed and ashamed at your body's display, mortified at how your body is reacting when you catch sight of Atsumu, his eyes dilated, looking at your slit that you know is drenched already. The rough texture of the rope presses painfully into your skin from how tight the bindings are. You can only let out gagged whines in complaint, chest rising up and down from the loud breaths.

"Can't do, love," Osamu chides, kissing the knot at your wrist, satisfied with the results. His fingertips trail down to cup your jaw and his thumb runs across the tea strainer. You close your eyes and groan at his touch. Osamu murmurs, "I won't let anything go to waste."

Atsumu is growing impatient at the sight of his twin treating you like the finest specimen ever. You're not the first one. You won't be the last one, but he still can't stand the sight of someone looking just like himself having first tastes while he's missing out himself. He wants to shove Osamu aside, but he knows that Osamu absolutely hates it when he ravages the meal when it's not ready.

Atsumu unzips his pants and lets his hardened, leaking cock spring free. You stare at Atsumu who is fixated on his own pleasure. His hand wraps around his cock and pumps the length up and down.

Osamu turns your head to look at himself instead. "Someone there is impatient, but let's not learn from him, okay? I want to take you slow, make sure you'll be ready. I don't want you stressed, you release too much cortisol and that toughens the meat."

Anything that goes through his hands...well, in short, all become part of his design.

His hand kneads your breast and toys with your nipple, circling and tugging on the tiny, erect bud.

"Relax," he whispers into your ear. "Just like you did last night."

You try to clamp your thighs shut from reflex. Immediately the resistance from the rope ties stop your movements. Osamu squeezes your thighs and pushes them apart once more.

"Right here isn't it, after hearing me fuck 'Tsumu..." Osamu's finger runs down the sides of your labia. "You just couldn't help touching yourself too huh?"

He knows. They know. You feel your cheeks burn at the realization.

"There's nothing embarrassing about it. If anyone should be, it should be us twins, " Osamu's fingers easily slip in, your pussy already dripping with arousal. "Oh woops, I shouldn't need to comfort you. You're clearly not shy."

Osamu's fingers are thick and long, able to reach far deeper than you ever can. Your tongue is still struggling against the gag while your saliva steeps the tea leaves trapped in the ball.

"Oi," Atsumu cuts in with annoyance. "I thought you said to not play with food. What the fuck are you doing, chef?"

Osamu stops his finger in you for a moment before dragging them out. You're trembling at the sudden emptiness and desire to fill the space immediately. The lack of stimulation is irritating and you are desperate.

Osamu walks up to Atsumu, bringing his drenched fingers covered in your slick to his lips for a taste. Before he can do so, Atsumu grabs Osamu's wrist and takes in those digits, sucking on them gingerly.

Osamu smiles and runs the other hand through Atsumu's hair.

"Patience is a virtue, 'Tsumu, I was just getting her fully prepared for you. I'm giving her all to you already, you couldn't even let me have a taste of her?"

Atsumu releases Osamu's fingers with a pop. "I never said I wasn't going to share," he mutters before pulling Osamu in for a kiss, passing the taste of you along their tongues.

Your body jostles as you finally get a visual matching what you heard last night. You feel your pussy leaking with more excitement, the arousal drips all the way down to your asshole. And the more you squirm, it's as though the rope ties become tighter and tighter, rubbing your skin raw. But even that pain is incomparable to the need to quell your fire.

Atsumu pulls away and presses one last kiss on Osamu's nose. "I always love what you serve, thank you 'Samu." Your heart rate rapidly speeds up as Atsumu comes towards you. He's positioned between your legs, both hands on your thighs, marveling at the display of your body. His hands feel hot.

Atsumu grins. "You probably didn't expect me to be the one taking you, huh?" He guides his cock to your entrance, the bulging tip prodding along your puffy lips. "Did you want Osamu to be the one fucking you?"

No? You want to argue, straining your head up slightly, but only tea-laced saliva drips out from the corners of your mouth.

"'Fuck me, 'Samu. Fuck me, please.' Is that what you heard? Is that what you wanted to say too?"

Your screams are muffled whimpers.

Osamu snorts off to the side, watching Atsumu do exactly what he accused Osamu earlier of: playing with his food. Hypocrite.

Atsumu glares at Osamu before turning his attention back to you. "You'll be begging for me, Atsumu, after I'm done with you."

He lines himself at your entrance and inches himself in, groaning at how your cunt is somehow just sucking him in. You're so warm and tight inside, wrapping perfectly around every part of him. He sits in you for a moment, just enjoying being blanketed by your muscles and chuckling how you tighten around him every now and then.

You whine, urging Atsumu to move a little.

"Okay, okay. Geez, and 'Samu says I'm impatient." Atsumu slowly draws his cock out and snaps his hips forward, the base of his balls slapping against your ass. He delights at how you squeeze your eyes shut and continues rocking into you at a comfortable pace.

Osamu enjoys standing off to the side for a while. He always liked watching Atsumu savor and delight the food he prepares. Atsumu always eats with such gusto. It should have always been that way, until the witch ruined everything. The curse, an experiment with the dark arts, should have never happened. Above all else, it should never have been on Atsumu. Osamu can only wonder if the reason they are subjected to this fate is because they are twins. Until a cure is found, Atsumu, his most beloved other, will have to replenish himself in this way.

A sharp pain rips through you and tears well up in your eyes. You feel Atsumu's cock suddenly begin to pulsate and grow in size. At first, you thought it was because you're clamping down on him too hard and will yourself to relax. But the cock, the thing, is certainly unnatural now. And between your tear-stained vision, you can just barely make out... Monster.

You begin to thrash wildly, head tossing side to side, back arched as much as you can in a futile escape attempt. Atsumu's claws rest on your hips while he pounds into you furiously. His groans, now deep growls, send vibrations that you can feel within your throbbing clit. You fear that you'll actually be ripped in half by the way Atsumu is thrusting into you. The engorged cockhead hits your cervix each time and his ball sack, even heavier, bowls and knocks against you.

Osamu unfolds his arms and comes over.

"It'll only hurt if you don't relax," he tells you, reaching out to press on your clit. "Just let him have his way."

"Go fuck her somewhere else," Atsumu snarls. His voice is warped and bellowing. Your mind is getting foggy as Osamu's fingers on your clit don't stop teasing the bud while having a petty talk with Atsumu. And Atsumu, ticked off by Osamu, picks up his speed.

"There we go, now that's beautiful," Osamu comments, taking his hand away and watching you unfurl in your pleasure. Your abused cunt is puffy when Atsumu pulls out, and you feel the thick liquid start to flow out when you take breaths.

"No, don't do that," Osamu chides, taking three fingers to gather the cum spilling out and stuffing it back in. "Better keep it all in. 'Tsumu isn't done with you yet."

Not yet? You can't even voice your thoughts except weakly shaking your head and moaning into the steel gag. In the moment, your stomach rumbles loudly.

"'Samu, she's hungry," Atsumu points out, rubbing your tummy. "You feed her and I'll stuff her."

Osamu ruffles Atsumu's long hair and gives his new, erected horns a teasing squeeze. Atsumu yelps at the touch. "'Samu!"

"Okay, okay," Osamu relents and stands next to your head. You see him take the paring knife again and slide the icy blade between the cotton ties and your hot cheek. A quick slice and you feel the pressure of the gag release. Osamu removes the tea strainer from your mouth and tosses it into the sink.

"Must have been so over-brewed, I apologize for that," he says. You know he doesn't mean it at all.

"Why?" you croak out. Your jaw and cheeks are sore from being held in position for so long. There's so many things you believe you can ask why about. Why they are prepping you like a meal, fucking you like a toy...Why Atsumu is the way he is. Why Osamu is not who you think he is either. Why you.

Despite Atsumu's grotesque figure, you're sure that you fear this twin more. Osamu's thoughts are so well-hidden behind his eyes; he never gives away what he's thinking or planning. You can only accept his decisions from the receiving end.

"Because of Atsumu," Osamu answers. Everything is for 'Tsumu. "I'll feed you."

Osamu cradles your head with both hands, his fingers tangled in your hair. He prods his cock against your lips. Feeling your resistance, he grips your hair tightly, painfully pulling on your scalp, and presses the tip of his cock to force your lips open. You nearly gag at the length entering your throat and your hands ball into tight fists. Your nose is buried in the base of his cock, pressing into his balls. Each breath you take is heavy with his musky, hot scent.

It's easy to focus on Osamu's cock fucking into your throat, leaving an unamused, monstrous twin off to the side preparing to turn your attention back to him by force.

Atsumu rubs himself against you, preparing to enter you again. You're sure that he has become even bigger. When the tip pushes through, your body attempts to fight the intrusion in self-preservation. The claws at your hips dig in and Atsumu all but pulls you onto his length like a sock. You scream around Osamu's cock, throat clenching around his thick length, and nearly black out from the stretch.

You never had anything this big in you before. Atsumu lifts you up slightly, his grasp becoming large enough to encircle around your whole waist. Your ankles are still tethered and tug on you, much to Atsumu's annoyance. He easily slices through the bondages with a sharp claw. Now free of restraints, Atsumu can cradle you more easily, finally pushing the last section into you.

Crack!

You can’t cry while you're stuffed with Osamu’s cock, but tears stream endlessly from your eyes. You’re sure your pelvic floor is broken, completely forced apart in a futile attempt to accommodate Atsumu stuffing you beyond your physical capacity. Your hips give out as your two legs, bone out from their sockets, dangle grotesquely.

“Just focus on me,” Osamu wipes your tears away and continues to pump into you. But you cannot focus on the human object in your mouth when your whole lower half and inwards are broken, stretched or squashed.

"Hey look ‘Samu! It's bulging," Atsumu marvels at the imprint of his tip pushing your flesh out from the inside. “Look, my cock is saying ‘hello’.”

Atsumu excitement translates into messy thrusts, treating your body like a game. “Maybe I can even touch your dick through her!”

Your whole body is numb, the brain shuts its pain signals off completely, and hormones pour through your bloodstream in overdrive. The broken climax spasms through your body like the last bits of a faltering system.

“Better hurry...she’s...she’s fading soon,” Osamu warns between his grunts. He clasps your head and spurts his seed into you. You mindlessly swallow every drop of him, letting the contents slowly flow down your throat. You can’t process anything nor recognize any of the murky images. Who are you? Where are you?

Your memory fades in and out as your eyesight drifts between black and white. You can’t do anything about how the monster is now on all fours over your body, unrecognizable as Atsumu. You don’t feel any fear towards this grotesque figure. You don’t register how his tongue licks your neck.

Your mouth is now empty but you can’t formulate syllables.

“I’m sorry,” you hear Osamu whisper before sharp fangs pierce into your jugular, digging in deeper and tearing a chunk out. Red sprays across your body in fast spurts, drenching Atsumu and covering Osamu. The teeth at your throat gnaw at the flesh, starved, tearing through the skin, fat, and tissues like a child crunching fruit.

You can feel the droplets falling onto your face like fresh rain after a storm. You vaguely remember your teacher and her warning of strangers. She always reprimanded you and you wanted to make her proud. There will no longer be any chance of that now. You weren’t a good student, and only an utter failure.

Osamu waits for Atsumu to finish you off. Atsumu always gets messy at this point. Osamu tried to help Atsumu section his prey off by cutting and organizing the limbs and even attempted to debone the meal beforehand, but Atsumu has his preferences, and Osamu respects them. So, Osamu delegates cleaning duties to himself instead.

You’re already beyond recognition when Osamu comes back with barrels of oil. All that is left is a kitchen stained with blood and a pile of bone with chewed connective tissue left. Atsumu sometimes eats the bones too, but not always.

“‘Tsumu, are you full now?” Osamu asks, reaching out to cradle his twin. Atsumu has now transformed back to the way he is supposed to be. Osamu threads his hand through Atsumu’s blonde hair and inhales his twin’s scent.

Atsumu doesn’t respond and tugs at Osamu’s collar, trailing down his arm to bring Osamu’s hand to his own cock.

Osamu grins and kisses the top of Atsumu’s head. “Do you want to fuck me ‘Tsumu? I know you like to, after your meals.”

Atsumu whines and nips at Osamu’s jaw, pushing the twin down on the blood-stained floor.

“Okay, okay.” Osamu unzips and pulls down his pants before crawling onto all fours.

Atsumu’s hand cups Osamu’s ass and pries the cheeks open before curiously fingering at the specimen plugging Osamu’s hole. Atsumu holds onto the base and turns the object, before laughing.

“‘Samu, what is this you have in your ass,” Atsumu teases. “I like this presentation.”

This time, Osamu is the one embarrassed. “Last meal, it hurt like hell. So...I wanted to prepare a little.”

“With an egg holder?” Atsumu cackles again, fiddling with the ceramic object. “Should’ve just told me ‘Samu, I could never bear to hurt you.”

Atsumu holds onto the base and slowly pulls the object out before tossing it aside. He smiles and teases Osamu’s enlarged hole that’s opening and closing around nothing. Gathering up some saliva, he spits onto Osamu’s asshole before lining his cock at the rim and slowly pushing in.

Along with the curse comes a near insatiable lust. Atsumu knows that if he doesn’t fulfill his need to fuck or be fucked, he will snap. He doesn’t really care who he kills during a frenzy of that sort, but it’s too risky to get Osamu caught up in the collateral.

The witch that wanted to create the perfect weapon, failed. She failed because she underestimated the twins’ bonds for each other. She failed because the twins discovered that witches excrete a very special hormone in their body after climax, and it is exactly that substance that is slowly curing Atsumu. With every witch eaten and absorbed, Atsumu is healing and gaining magical powers. He is even capable of passing those essences to Osamu. One day, everything will be the way it's supposed to be.

Osamu plays with a few strands of Atsumu’s hair. Atsumu’s softened cock still buried inside of him. Atsumu has his jaw resting on Osamu’s shoulder.

“You make me feel so good,” Atsumu sighs, enjoying the quiet moments after his high.

“And what about her?” Osamu asks, gesturing to the table where your remains are still at.

“She made me feel good too. The best one yet, but don’t be jealous.”

“Come on, let’s clean up and get out of here.”

After washing their bodies and changing into clean clothes, Atsumu and Osamu are ready to say goodbye to the cottage they have overstayed their welcomes at.

"Let's go 'Samu, we're already behind." Atsumu finishes dumping the last bucket of oil along the edges of the room.

The clamor of boots stride across the creaking wood. As though with the passing of its owner, the cottage itself has lost the will to live.

"Coming," Osamu calls back, walking past the makeshift funeral pyre for you. He notices a flash on the ground and bends down to pick up a button.

"'Samu! Get the fuck out or I'll burn ya down too!"

"Yea, yea."

Osamu drops the button into his shirt pocket and joins his twin outside. Atsumu strikes a matchstick and tosses the small flame into the cottage. Fire meets oil and spreads in an instance, engulfing the cottage in an angry blend of orange and red, devouring all contents and remains within. The smell of scorched wood reaches the twins who are looking at the sight from a distance.

"She was good," Atsumu comments, looking at his twin unsure about what Osamu's grey eyes are thinking about. Atsumu realizes that he didn't specify what good exactly means. But it doesn't seem like Osamu is paying much attention. Is Osamu thinking about you? Is he unhappy? Does he regret what happened to you? Although what's done is done already, if time can go back, would Osamu choose? You or Atsumu?

Osamu slips his hand into Atsumu's, erasing the unspoken worries away. He gently leads Atsumu onto the trail, leaving the burning cottage behind.

"Stop thinking such nonsense," Osamu mutters, squeezing Atsumu's hand. No matter what happens, Atsumu will always come first. His needs, his desires. That's what it means for Osamu to love Atsumu. Even though the rest of the world may not understand the relationship the twins share, calling it depraved and disgusting, it's still selfless on their part. What sin is there to honestly love? What sin is there to try and save his loved ones?

While Osamu admits to himself that he does feel a deep attraction to you and knows that Atsumu feels the same pull as well, there's nothing that can be done about Atsumu's condition. But it's not as though you are completely gone. Your essences and core are within both twins, being absorbed as one with their bodies and soul. You'll forever be with them in that way, even if you no longer have any sentient memory of it.

Osamu fiddles the button in his pocket; there's still a physical reminder of you in that tiny form.

It must be about a twenty-minute trek from the burning site. Although the flames are already far from eyesight, the scorching smell and embers still drift over. The twins pick up their pace, eager to exit the forest before nightfall and make it to the next destination. On the way, they pass by the tree trunk with a wanted poster.

"They never get my best angles!" Atsumu complains, ripping a wanted poster that is nailed to the tree trunk.

"It's not like you have a good angle, ‘Tsumu."

"Shut it, we look the same ‘Samu. You're just calling yourself ugly too!"

Osamu shrugs and continues his trek down the main trail. Atsumu huffs, tearing the parchment into indistinguishable pieces before throwing the shreds up into the air like confetti.

"Wait up!"

Osamu stops in his tracks. "Hurry up, loser. We still have a long way to go."

Atsumu takes a few wide strides and swings his arm around his twin's shoulder. Behind them, a very light drizzle falls from the sky.

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strawberry-nugget · 3 years

Text

𝙈𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙞𝙘 | E.Kirishima x Reader

Pairing: Kirishima/ reader, Bakugo/ reader (mentioned)

Summary: You shouldn't want him and he shouldn't want you, it's sinful and forbidden. But he can't help coming back to you, and you can't do anything but take him in every single time. Until today that is.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: Aged up characters (twenties), NSFW 18+, plot with some p//rn but it's not very detailed, unprotected sex (please use condoms everyone), cheating, casual penetrative sex, jealousy, the seggz is pretty vanilla though

↪A/N: tennis player Kirishima, tennis player Kirishima, idk how I came up with it but I can't get it out of my head, written for @doinmybesthere 's 3k event collab and based on The Hills by the Weeknd, don't be shy to tell me if you liked it, I almost wrote 4k in a day which is unusual for me

5.30pm [Missed Call: Red]

5.31pm [Missed Calls(2): Red]

The bubbling notifications are spamming your phone, each call, succeeding the other in persistence and length, making your phone crawl onto your coffee table in restless buzzing. To your salvation the device is on silent; you're just unable to bear the overwhelming sound of your ringtone echo through the empty walls of your apartment, to let it bounce between concrete like a slimy ball, only for it to hit you on the face with tremendous force.

It's one of those days that you can't answer Kirishima. Too perplexed in the wields of your mind, blaming yourself for this horrendous situation, delivering raw swears at him for simply existing.

You don't know how it came to this nor when was the exact moment things switched. Was it at the party that you met him? Or the thousandth time you took him in and let him ruin relationship after relationship. Either way it was horrible for not only you, but also him, and all the people that have been caught up in the sidelines of this rotten affair.

You shouldn't want this anymore and truly, you don't. You're tired of being the second choice, of hiding behind your little finger, crying yourself to sleep at night, only to put on a sultry face for every time he comes. Once, twice a month.

[New Messages: Red]

Babe, you there?

Read 5.38pm

[New Messages: Red]

Babe I got practice at 8.

I know you're reading those.

Read 5.39pm

[Red is typing…]

[New Messages: Red]

I'm outside btw

A fresh, tremendously sharp wave of anxiety rushes through you at the little notification -it can't be like this again, not today. The thudder in your chest is unbearable, heart too weak to stomach the weight of your decision, fingers too reluctant to type out your response.

He's probably smirking while staring at his phone, not a single care in his head. It's loathing to your mind as you confirm your speculation, shooting a glance out of your window, landing your eyes on his car.

He shouldn't be here.

His thousands dollar car doesn't belong in your urban street, not in your side of the town. And it's so dangerous that he's doing this to see you. You've played the worst scenarios in your head a thousand times, millions of headlines on sites and the news about this; Eijirou Kirishima, on his way to claiming a fifth Grand Slam, caught in affair with university student.

Atrocious, degrading, exposing. A hit to his career that would bother the media for a couple of weeks and paint your name in mud along the way.

Why can't he just be content with the model that he's with? You're nothing like her, not as pretty and you don't have her body, you don't have her face, but he still says he finds you better, says he knows you better, but he just can't be with you.

[You]

Can't do it today

Sorry

You're good to yourself, only when you deny him and only when you feel the satisfaction of being the one to do so. It's pointless to sulk over saying no. He can go fuck other girls, play with their hearts and leave you to your otherwise peaceful life. Even if it is just for today.

You don't have the chance to let a smile creep to your face when your doorbell rings. The jiggling sound bursts into your eardrums once and twice, three dreaded times and they're enough to make your stomach churn, your neck tight and your skin ache.

You contemplate on opening the door for him, subconsciously letting yourself feel like a vulnerable prey, who, after running away to save yourself, is choosing to walk into the wolf's den, so willingly that you can feel yourself drifting away with each step you're taking towards the door.

"Babe,"

The swing of your door handle, the crack of your wrist, the creaking of your door as it opens to reveal him; they're all embarrassing. You can't tell if they fall short on his ears, too caught up in the way he looks -all swollen muscles and tall legs. You're running out of courage to say no and he knows this.

He's not as innocent as this cheeky smile frames him out to be, he's not the sweetheart everyone wants him to be either.

He's Eijirou, who's selfishly standing on your door, who's barging his way in your apartment, who's grabbing your cheeks and slamming your face in his, biting your lips until he draws blood, just to punish you for standing up against him.

Your door is slammed behind him, one bend of his knee and it's falling into its rightful place. To shield the sins of your affair, to bring you comfort and privacy as he attacks parts of your neck, your chest. Places that only squeeze perfectly under his touch.

"Babe," He calls again, in between soft kisses. "What's gotten into you?"

You frown and try to look away, past his cocoa colored orbs, past the swelling that's taking over his lips -and yours- with a numbing, tingling sensation.

"Eijirou—"

"I don't have much time in between training, I got a game the day after tomorrow."

It's always like this, you know. He doesn't have to tell you twice or try to excuse his own self for what he does or how he acts. You're pushed between schedules, or slammed into his timetable like a truck when he feels like indulging with you again, hidden between the lines of his free time.

You're sure at this point that it's the thrill he's after. The sinful taste of your lips on his, how he feels in control while chasing after you, when you can't keep up with him.

His lips don't taste like sour cherry anymore, but you let them wiggle against yours with triumph, you let him want to catch his breath as he pulls back and you put the minimum effort in returning the passion you receive.

You pull back, ignoring the words he's whispering against your face, only to take in his features once again.

Soft black hair pulled into a low ponytail, spiky bangs that fly all over his face and his tips drowned in a fiery, foxy red. The only reminder for who he was before his tennis career blew up. For who he was before he turned into this cocky womanizer whom you're desperately after with a longing heart.

"I'm just not in the mood today."

"Well let's get you in the mood then huh?"

He smiles, nose scrunching and chapped lips hiding behind his gums as his hand moves to your thigh, tagging your shorts with furry. As if he's desperate to have you, right here and now. As if bending you over the couch will help put out a fire in him. That's how he always convinces you to keep this going.

He's making you feel like not having you this way is insufferable.

You're buried in the crook of his neck while being pushed onto the couch, nibbling a soft spot that you've found, rubbing his skin on the top of your tongue. You know how to do this without leaving a mark, you can hold back from wanting to take all you can get from him.

But today it's different. It's going to be the last time.

It's not like any other time you've told yourself that you are going to end this. Today you're going to leave a mark, you're going to bite your way into his skin and drink from his poison -the intimate attention he's only ever willing to give- and you'll get drunk in it.

"Fuck," He grunts against your lips. "Fuck, don't stop that feels good."

You don't stop, eager to listen to him, to breathe into his neck before you wrap your lips a little lower and closer to his collarbone. You should be asking if this will cause him problems, but gone is the guilt that veils your coinsense otherwise. You suckle on a spot and then another, stealing his groaning moans one by one as they fall from his lips, plushing them softly in a spongy part of your brain, where they can rest forever, until you've forgotten them.

"Get your shirt off Eijirou," You plea, ogling eyes watering from the pressure that's applied in the apex of your thighs and he's quick to follow your command, lips curling upwards in a sweetheart smirk.

You're going to miss the way the apples of his cheeks cover his eyes when he smiles like this. But there's no going back for you and him.

With legs that feel like burning rubber you hug around his horse, watching the way his muscles flex and fold with his snappy movements. His shirt, tousled and wrinkly, tossed in an unknown corner of your living room, only for him to guess where it is after he's gotten his fix of you.

Thick fingers probe at your sides, pulling your shirt downwards in a silent plea, take off your shirt, give him the satisfaction that he wants, indulge into this as much as he wants you to.

But today, you're not in the mood for this. So instead of pulling your shirt off, you unbuckle your pants, pulling them down at the most dreadful speed, making him bite his lip impatiently.

You won't miss this, the way he's expecting so many things of you.

And if he notices something's wrong, he doesn't say a word, presumably content with getting what he wants; the rear view of the gap between your legs, where he can bury himself and get lost for the next thirty minutes.

"Fuck baby," he moans. "Why do you smell so good?"

You grunt, averting your gaze from his as he pushes your bangs away from your face with the back of his hand. You want to miss his puppy eyes. Ghosting him won't be easier for you if you don't.

But damn if he couldn't read you this well, things would be easier.

"Not in the mood to talk?" You look even further away to avoid the question, "babe, you can tell me if you're not well, you'll feel better if you let it out"

You don't need someone to tell you how to feel. You've decided when the two of you are going to be through. It's set and done, even if he feels at the top of the world right now, you won't inflate his ego anymore.

"M fine Eijirou, put it in," You bite his lip, putting huge effort in making him forget about what he thinks it's bothering you. "Want you to put it in m'kay?"

Sultry, fake voice, he's heard it all before and he doesn't have the right to call you out for it. Whatever he does next, you're his for the moment and for the last time.

Repeating is your rightful way of convincing yourself of not giving up on your decision. If only he could have broken up before deciding to wet himself in you, if only you hadn't taken him so eagerly, if only you hadn't become just like him. Welcoming him despite availability status, afraid to lose him, saying that a little sex wouldn't hurt. If you could do this on repeat, then you could get rid of him quite as easily.

You're not better than him and he's taken your vulnerability to him for granted. He's loved the attention you've paid him from time to time, whenever he's given you so much as a mere call.

You should pretend to moan, to hurt his ego, but as he's delving into you, slowly, mellowy, his kisses feel like burning sunshine, August breeze against your skin, kissing your shoulders lightly. It hurts that this salvation is coming from his mouth, as it moves rhythmically against every inch of you.

"Fuck, fuck, ah, you feel so good, you know that?"

You don't answer, nor do you wrap your lips around him. You don't move them against his when he goes to kiss you, but you coo into his warm embrace once his hands come to cradle you in a tight embrace.

"I love you," He slips up and you contemplate on whether you have to start hating him from this very moment. "I just wanna be with you, I—" He grunts. “—this is why you don't believe him, but nonetheless you hold a moan in as well. "Fuck, I'll break up just for you.”

Now that's a new one. A new addition to the long list of red flags you have with his name on top. You can't fall for it. You absolutely can't. If you do, he'll treat you just like this, he'll fuck behind your back and kiss you goodnight before going off to sleep with someone else. Like he's slept with you, once, twice, thrice.

And you're going to hate being the one who's fooled, despite deserving it more than anyone else. And another girl, or guy, is going to be his subject of desire.

You shouldn't want him to be yours, but you're lewding your 'I love yous' out of your mouth like they're nothing, poisoning your heart until there's nothing left but dust and sucked up blood, all devoured by the greed he's made you feel.

"You love me too?"

"I do," You cry, rocked between him and the couch, neck hurting by the way he's digging his teeth in yours.

"I'll fucking leave everything for you babe,"

He shouldn't. He won't. You tell yourself he's only saying this because he wants to come, to make you feel dirty with his actions and fish out words that make him ecstatic or send him over the edge from your mouth.

Rhythms are peaking, his hips burning from his movements, foreheads are dripping in sweat, lips taste salty against each other. The perfect picture, the most tingling sensation, and you're too fucked to go back, or keep yourself content with him. It feels the same as the last time, a numbing knot in your stomach, commanding you to rip your heart out and throw it away, spooning mewls out of your mouth.

If you could, you'd mute him, not wanting to listen to how beautiful he sounds as he's coming down from his high. If you could, you'd look away, and wouldn't try to burn the image of his body as he's falling apart in your mind.

"That was—" The sigh that leaves his chest through his mouth is liberating, you can tell—"amazing. I still love you, so much babe."

His hand soothing the pain of his thrusts, does nothing to make you feel better. You want to shove it away, but you don't, unhappy with the way you're turning out to be.

"It's time for you to go, Eijirou, isn't it?" You remind him. A hand pushing him off of you and quickly smoothing your T-shirt over your legs to deprive him of the view that'd make him wear a smug of triumph.

"So quick to get me to go. Did you find someone else again sweetheart?"

You don't reply as you're putting on your underwear and pants, shoving his shirt into him with a heavy hand.

"You did, didn't you?"

"None of your business, go off to your practice, your girl, don't patronize me anymore."

He gruffs, beautiful features scowling in that stormy gaze that reeks of his authority, "Here I am pouring my heart on you and you found someone else"

"Eijirou, it's seven thirty, if I were you, I wouldn't be late for practice. You got a game the day after tomorrow."

No more dealing with his pouting, you're going to bawl your eyes out if you have to do it. The sooner he's out of your house, the sooner you'll get this over with; the tight lamp in your throat, the image of him smiling at you like this, him admitting feelings that he shouldn't have.

Hurting him isn't the role that suits you. Because you can't do it. You can't hurt that warm sunshine he has on his face. He has to be the one to hurt you like he's been the one to drive you away. It's too late for him to change or reverse your roles.

You don't want to fight and he knows it.

He knows you, so well, well enough to use you as he wishes to, letting you believe you're using him too. You're going to make him watch you slip away, and he won't do anything about this.

So he's eager to leave as you're pushing him out of the door, he doesn't cup your cheek with his hand, and doesn't kiss your forehead tenderly like he always does.

"You should come to this party Mina is throwing, let me meet your new guy."

Like hell you'd ever do this, he knows, but teasing won't hurt a bit. Eijirou can deal with you dating other men, he's claimed you well before, he'll do it again if he has to, especially now that he's decided to have you.

"Yeah yeah, and if I do, don't ever call me again, 'kay?"

You're too good to not do as he says, or not to fall back to him, and he's too good to not come back to you. To him, you're a match made in heaven, to you, you're a lost cause, burning in the fiery pits of hell as atonement for your sins.

He doesn't know that you'll fall apart before dressing up, how you'll tell yourself you're not doing this for him, but as a statement against him.

You're no better than him, in fact, you're worse.

…

The only problem is, that when Eijirou pulls up at Mina's party after practice, you're already there. Drink in your hand, flared jeans hugging your legs, layered tank tops that cover the bruising truth of this evening, laughing at whatever your friends are saying.

When he puts out his phone, calloused fingers furiously typing a text addressed to you, you're too far gone into another glass, dancing a little dance before grabbing everyone's cups to go for a refill, greeting them in that silent way of yours, drunken smile.

And then you'll pass him by and blink at him, you'll mutter a small greeting and he'll grab you by the hand and whisper in your ear just how hard he'll take you driving the night. You'll swoon, moan, forget about the drinks and follow him anywhere he leads you.

That's how everybody knows about the two of you.

This time, though, you don't cast a single eye on him. In fact, you're tainting him, walking past him while ignoring him, leaving him awestruck and hurt, like his confessions earlier in the day meant nothing to you.

It's a hit to his heart, how your jaw drops as you bump into Bakugo over the kitchen counter, eyes too wide at the sight of him. How your finger dances playfully on his chest and as you smile at him when he whispers something in your ear.

It's infuriating how you drop the cups near the sink and follow Bakugo outside, or how the blond waves at him with a pressed smile against his lips, signaling that he'll be busy for a while.

His insides churn, tummy aching in a feeling of guilt, one unlike anything he's felt before. Losing you doesn't taste in the way he thought he would, it's worse; sour and poisoning. It makes him flee the party, furious and bitter.

When he's back, his body is heavy, feet dragging him across his apartment, mind blank as he follows his basic routine before bed time, fixated on how easy it seemed for you to just ignore him and flee with one of his friends as soon as he came over to the party he invited you to, wondering how you could be so ruthless with him all of a sudden.

Sweet talking Kirishima with a smile of gold, the sweetheart of the professional Tennis scene and you're over him in the split of a second, pushing him away from you without an explanation or heart wrenching speech. Not giving him the satisfaction of some closure, just forcing the cold tempo of your sudden departure in the depths of his heart.

He pays no mind to the girl that sleeps beside him, back turned to him like she's oceans apart, despite the unspoken bound that's keeping them together. He'll leave her, make up for all the damage that he's done, in any way that he can manage to.

It all comes down to the fact that no one can love you like he does, no one can want you like he does. Someone can do it better, but you have to want him.

5.30am [Missed Call: Red]

5.31am [Missed Calls(2): Red]

[New Message: Red]

Fuck, with Bakugo out of everyone?

Delivered: 5.31am

[New Message: Red]

Did you have sex with him?

Babe answer me.

Delivered: 5.32am

[New Message: Red]

I'm breaking up with her tomorrow morning.

And I'll come over.

Babe.

Babe please.

Delivered: 5.33am

[New Message: Red]

I'll take you on a date and we can talk about us okay babe?

Let me know when you wake up.

I love you.

So much.

Delivered: 5.38am

Read: 10.23pm

[You]

(Attached Image)

Sorry 'Red' even if you sound like a total douche, cheeks forgot her phone at my place.

I bet on her answering your late night drama when she takes her phone back.

[Red is typing...]

Super thanks to @celestidarling for proofreading this and giving me the biggest pump of confidence to post

↪Up Next: Dragon King Bakugo

#eijirou kirishima #kirishima x reader #eijirou x reader #eijirou kirishima x reader #kirishima x you #bnha #kirishima x y/n #bakugou x reader #Kirishima #mha fanfiction #mha #bnha fanfiction #kirishima fanfic #tw: cheating #kirishima smut #bnha smut #mha smut

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greengoblinswifey · 3 years

Text

His Assistant (2)

Summary: Sparks fly as a relationship with your boss, Norman, blossoms and leads to your cherry popping. All is well until you find out what he's been hiding.

Warnings: Age gap(reader is 21, Norman is in his 40s)Fingering, semi public fingering, Oral(female receiving), mentions of virginity, unprotected sex, praise kink, mentions of blood, angst, swearing.

Pairing: Norman Osborn x Black!fem!reader

Part 1

The birds chirped and the sun peaked in through your window, signaling it was going to be a beautiful day. It was your day off and you wanted nothing more than to relax. Thinking about last night and the 'incident' with Norman made you smile and a certain wetness coated your underwear. You rolled out of bed and got ready for the day.

You made sure to text Maria the juicy details of the previous night. "I'm so happy for you Y/N, he seems so sweet, you deserve this!!" she replied. You responded with hearts, a cheeky smile on your face and went back to cleaning the house. You finished earlier than expected so you decided to relax and watch TV a bit. You dozed off but awoke to your phone ringing. Your face heated up seeing the name that popped up.

"Hey sweetheart."

"Hi Norman," you said, trying to contain your smiles.

"Are you busy today?"

"No, why?"

"Ok good. I'm picking you up at 7, we're going out."

You agreed then hung up, your squeals filling your living room. It was only after three but you were too excited to just sit and do nothing. You called Maria over to help you and she arrived within a few minutes.

"You didn't have to M," you smiled, admiring the blush pink statin dress she bought for you.

"You're right but I did, this is your first date gift from me and you're wearing it." You gave her a hug and picked out a pair of pink lace heels. "What if we actually do it tonight?" you wondered out loud, plopping down into your couch. "Then it just happens," Maria laughed, "and he's filthy rich, wonder where he's taking you." You wondered the same too and hope you wouldn't be over or underdressed.

You slipped into your short dress and looked at yourself in the mirror. "You look great," Maria smiled, proud of her work. She did the finishing touches on your curls quickly as you heard Norman's car pull up. You both squealed in excitement. "Ok, ok, calm down," you said to her. "Go get your purse together, I'll go answer the door," she told you.

She walked downstairs and opened the door. "You must be Norman, come in," she smiled. "Yes, and you are?" he asked, standing at the doorway. "I'm her best friend Maria, and there she is," she said, both their heads turning to you as you descended down the stairs. He watched in awe, your curls bouncing as you walked.

"Wow sweetheart, you look beautiful," he smiled, leaning down and giving you a kiss on your red lips. "Thanks," you blushed. "Ok you two have fun, Norman take care of her," Maria demanded. You all laughed, Norman's arm around your waist as you walked towards his car. He opened the passenger door for you and drove off, his hand resting on your bare thigh. "Where are we going?" you asked, staring out the window. "You'll see sweetheart." You settled for that answer and focused your gaze outside, his hand on your thigh warming your body. Your eyes lit up as you arrived at a beautiful hotel. You walked in, his arm snaked around your waist and into an elevator, going all the way to the roof.

"Here we are," he smiled as the elevator doors open. "Oh my- it's beautiful up here Norman," you beamed, hugging him. There were lights and red balloons stretching across the roof, a mini bar in the middle and the tables were decked in roses and candles. He took your hand and led you over to a table, making sure to pull out the seat for you. "Where is everyone?" you asked looking around. "I rented up here for the night so we can have some privacy." Your heart fluttered at the gesture and you began playing with the hem of your dress. "Would you like to dance m'lady?" Norman asked, his hand outstretched. You laughed and bowed taking his hand. You slow danced to the rhythm of the song, your head laid against his chest as you felt all your troubles melt away.

"You know I've always thought you were beautiful, ever since you came to that interview," he remarked. "I may or may not have went home and told my best friend that I had a crush on my new boss," you laughed. You danced for a few more minutes, then sat back down, reviewing the menu. You were quickly served the food and drinks after ordering. You ate in comfortable silence as a 70s long song played lowly over the speakers. "I hope this isn't an inappropriate question but how come you've never had sex?" Norman asked, wiping his mouth. "No, no it's fine," you laughed, "for one I never had boyfriends, my dad never allowed me. He was really strict so I couldn't find any guy to do it with I guess. When I turned 20 last year I finally moved out but all the guys that tried to date me were douches." He nodded in understanding, his fork wrapped in pasta. "And you, how's your uh, love life been?" He paused for a moment. He didn't want to lie to you already, but he had to.

"Uh, it's been fine. Since Harry's mother passed I've always been focused on work. I've had a few flings but nothing serious," he said. "And you haven't dated any of your other assistants?" you laughed. He didn't laugh like you expected him to, only clearing his throat and looking down on his food. "Oh, sorry, I was joking," you said, awkwardly. "No, it's ok Y/N. No I haven't, you'd be my first." He lied through his teeth, the lie repeating in his head over and over for the rest of the night.

You leaned over the edge of the roof, his body pressed against yours as you both admired the beauty of the city at night. You could feel his bulge pressing into your lower back but he wouldn't allow you to do anything about it. "C'mon, I wanna get drunk," you giggled, dragging him over the bar. You did a couple shots laid out on the table and by the third shot you were drowsy and slurring your words. "It's time to go now sweetheart," Norman said, taking your purse and your hand. By the time you arrived home, you were fast asleep so he took out your key and carried you inside. He laid you down on your bed and gave you a kiss on the forehead then left, waving to Maria.

You awoke the next morning with a slight headache but you still decided to go to work. You checked your phone seeing a message Norman left reading, "Hope you had a great night beautiful, I know I did. I'm taking you to work tomorrow." You smiled and finished getting ready, soon hearing the sound of his horn outside. "Good morning," you blushed, giving him a kiss on the cheek and putting on your seatbelt, "thank you for last night, my first date was incredible." He gave you a kiss and you set off for Oscorp.

You arrived at work and followed Norman to his office, updating his schedule for the day. "I'll have your lunch at 1 and the reports on your table by 12," you said, picking up the lab reports. "Don't worry about lunch, I'll get it and we can eat together." You thanked him and went back to your desk before being interrupted by a coworker. A nosey one at that.

"Heyyy Y/N," Jennifer giggled.

"What does this annoying bitch want," you thought. "I can't talk right now," you said, dismissively. She huffed and walked away as you let out a sigh of relief. You could not have her finding out your business. You finished reviewing the lab reports and brought them to Norman's office, a delicious smell filling the room. "Chinese?" you asked. He nodded and gestured for you to sit in the office couch.

"Remember we have a meeting at 4:30 in the board room," you said, walking out, "and thank you for the lunch." The rest the day flew by quickly, you took calls for Norman and helped him in the lab with a few tech related issues before the meeting started. You went to his office and walked together, making sure to sit beside each other. You listened intently to Mr. Stark before Norman took off his jacket and placed it over your lap. You thought nothing of it and continued writing notes about what Stark was saying. Your eyes shot over at Norman when he began trailing his fingers up your inner thigh and under your skirt. "Be a good girl and pay attention," he whispered in your ear.

His fingers traced your thigh, goosebumps coating your skin and he lowly chuckled at the effect he had on you. You gasped as his fingers shifted your underwear and rubbed your clit. "Be quiet for me sweetheart, ok?" he whispered. You nodded your head and continued taking your notes. You held back a moan as you felt his long finger slip into your wetness. "So warm and wet for me sweetheart," he smirked, slowly pumping his finger inside you. You could feel your wetness on your inner thighs as the coil in your belly tightened.

You were about to cum with eight oblivious men and women in the room. "I can feel you squeezing my fingers, cum for me sweetheart." His fingers thrusted into your pussy faster and you tried your best to edge yourself. He rubbed circles on your sensitive clit and you couldn't hold it any longer. "That's it sweetheart, such a good girl," he whispered as your pussy pulsated around his finger and you came. You bit your tongue as you suppressed the moans that threatened to leave your it. You looked at him beside you, his eyes already on you and a smirk plastered on his face.

You were a quivering mess, your legs turned to jelly as the meeting ended and you walked back to Norman's office. If he was so good with his finger then imagine his cock. "You liked that didn't you?" he asked, locking the door. He pushed you against it and pinned your hands above your head, staring into your eyes. "I asked you a question little girl," he said, his eyes dropping down to your breasts then back up to your eyes. "Y-yes sir, I loved it. I can't wait to feel your cock instead." He chuckled and let you go, going back around his desk. He wanted to fuck you, so bad, but he didn't want to rush into it like he did with the others. You were special, and a virgin. "I'm guessing that was the first time you've ever been fingered?" he asked, looking over files. You hummed a yes and sat down in his couch, your face heating up.

He took you home that evening and you decided it would be a sweet idea to invite him to stay for dinner. "Make yourself comfortable," you offered, "I'll be in the kitchen." Norman sat in the living room, peeking from the couch as you prepared the lasagna. In no time you were finished and shared for the both of you. He complimented your cooking, in awe of the wonderful taste melting on his taste buds. "I forgot to ask, but what happened to your last assistant?" you asked, curious. Norman lowly sighed, hating to have to lie to you once again. "She was uh, fired. The job wasn't for her," he said, dismissively, going back to his food. You nodded and left it at that.

Two weeks had passed and you went on five more dates with Norman, each one being better than the last. He was absolutely whipped. He bought you lavish gifts and flowers everyday, something that you could definitely get used to. The sex part of your new relationship was all up to you and so, you decided that you were ready the night after your seventh date. You felt a bit guilty for having him wait this long but he reassured you, reminding you that it was his idea to wait first.

You dressed in lingerie and a garter belt, Maria insisting you wear it and a cute black dress with a slit, purposefully showing off the garter belt to tease Norman. He arrived and walked up to your door as usual, ringing it and waiting for your answer. The minute you walked through the door, his jaw hung low. "I- wow, you look stunning," he smiled, leaning down and attaching his lips to yours. His finger trailed over your garter belt with your leg on his waist and your back against the door. You wrapped your arms around his neck and deepened the kiss, his fingers slipping between your wet folds. "F-fuck," you sighed, "as much as this feels so good, we're outside baby, anyone can see." Norman whined and took your hand, leading you to his car. "You're going to be the death of me princess."

You walked into the five star restaurant hand in hand and sat in a corner. Everyone looked expensive, decked out in designer outfits and eating elegantly. The night flew by quickly as you had hoped, the food great and your leg stretching across the table to rub Norman's cock leaving him painfully hard all night.

Norman carried you bridal style up to his master bedroom and placed you on his bed, red rose petals surrounding you. There were roses and scented candles around the room. "This is so beautiful Norman," you smiled, "I don't think I would've wanted anything else this is perfect." He smiled and pulled you into a hug, "Anything for you sweetheart. And I have to ask, are you sure you want to do this tonight? We can-"

You cut him off by pulling him into a passionate kiss, his hands touching you all over. You pulled away and helped each other out of your clothes. You were left only in your lingerie, Norman's chest heaving as he admired your beautiful body. You laid down and he hovered over you, looking into your eyes for any fear or reluctance but all he found was lust and love. "This gorgeous body, all for me isn't it?" he asked. "All for you, I'm yours," you nodded. He trailed kisses from your lips, your chest and abdomen, all the way down to your clothed core, your pussy needy for his mouth. He kissed your pelvis and your clothed pussy, his eyes on yours. Slowly, he began removing your panty. He brought it up to his nose and inhaled deeply before throwing it across the room, the candle flames flickering.

"You have the prettiest cunt I've ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on," he gushed. You giggled and spread your pussy open to him. He could practically see how tight you were and he couldn't wait to tear you open. "I know you want my cock so bad princess, you've been teasing me all night but I have to open you up first," he insisted.

His strong hands gripped your hips as he licked at your dripping pussy. You gasped as his tongue swirled and flicked your clit. Your hands went to his hair as his tongue worked on your pussy, your body writhing from pleasure as he tried to keep you still. "Knew you'd taste good baby," he licked his lips. He scooped your juices on your finger and brought them to your mouth, your tongue licking them clean. He continued lapping at your juices, as your face screwed up in pleasure. "Baby, I'm gonna cum," you whimpered.

A cocky grin appeared on his face as his tongue entered your sloppy walls. "Cum for me princess," he demanded. Your hands tugged on his hair and your back arched into his mouth as a loud moan left your lips, your orgasm coursing through you. You had never felt such an amazing feeling, and you couldn't begin to imagine how his cock would feel.

"Norman, I want you inside me," you begged. "Still have to get you ready for me princess, be a good girl and be patient alright?" You nodded and he came up and gave you a kiss on the lips, your taste lingering as he pulled away. He moved down to your core, trailing wet kisses as he did so and pushed a finger inside. You whimpered at the intrusion and he slowly pushed another in making you feel full already. His tongue worked profusely at your clit while his finger began thrusting faster. Your low moans grew louder and louder as he licked your slit and curled his fingers inside you.

"I love your pretty sounds," he smirked, "cum." You did your hips bucking against his fingers, your juices staining the rose petals underneath you. "The garter belt stays on, you look too beautiful." He hovered over you and unclipped your bra, your breasts falling from the material. His eyes were on yours as he gently massaged them then placed a kiss on your lips. His lips on yours, his hands on your breasts and the roses and candles around you provided a sense of intimacy you never felt before. You gasped at his large cock you hadn't noticed, how was that going it fit inside you.

He stood at the foot of the bed as he stroked his length, his head falling back. "Our safe word is red sweetheart so if you're in any pain and you want me to stop, say the word." You nodded and lifted your legs to your chest. "Are you sure you want this? We can always stop," his eyes piercing into yours. "I'm sure, please fuck me," you whined. "Ok pretty girl," he smirked. He lined his tip up with your entrance and moved it up and down, a whimper escaping your lips as he did.

"It's gonna hurt at first princess but I promise it'll feel better soon," he smiled. He took your hand in his as he slowly pushed the tip between your folds. "Norman," you moaned, your brows knitted together. He held back the urge to pound into you, not wanting to make you feel too much pain. "God, you feel so good sweetheart," he praised, "can I move now?" You nodded desperately, a whine leaving your lips. You both moaned as he slowly pushed inside you, your hand squeezing his. "You look so pretty darling," he breathed out, kissing your hand.

Your back arched off the bed, a loud moan leaving your lips as he began to move inside you. You felt your pussy being torn apart as he pushed pass your hymen, your breathing labored and your hand squeezing his. "It feels so good, I- I need more," you pleaded. "I know baby, I know," he cooed, peppering kisses on your hand in his. He bottomed out of you, your blood and juices coating his length. His cock slowly went back inside you, a feeling of immense pleasure overtaking you. You wrapped your legs around him, his full length inside you and touching your cervix. "Oh fuck, you feel incredible," he whispered. You flung your arms around his neck, his finger gently rubbing circles on your clit as your orgasm hit you. You came with tears in your eyes, the pleasurable feeling of his cock slipping in and out of you surpassing his tongue and fingers. "Such a good girl, you're amazing," he praised.

"C-can I ride you?" you asked timidly. "Are you sure? It's gonna hurt sweetheart," he said, cupping your cheeks. "I want to, let me do it for you, please," you begged. "Big girl now huh," he chuckled, flipping you over so that you were on top of him. "I didn't realize I bled, sorry," you whispered. "No baby it's ok, don't apologize." He kissed your forehead and laid back down as you took ahold of his length, lining it up with your wet entrance. You placed both hands on his chest as you slowly sunk down onto him. "This is what you wanted huh? To ride my cock 'cuz you're a big girl now?" You giggled then gasped as he brought his hips up to meet yours, his cock hitting your cervix instantly.

You bounced a bit faster, still steady, his cock slipping in and out of you easily. He massaged your breasts then gently held onto your hips, guiding you slowly. You looked like a goddess on top of him. Rose petals caught in your hair, your breasts bouncing, a tear stained face and your bronze skin glowing in the candle light. He wanted to cum but not before you did. "Want you to cum again for me princess, I know you have one more left in you." You moaned in compliance and rocked your hips as you came undone on his cock, your body laying on top of his. He held your hips and slowly moved his cock in you ready to chase his own high. He groaned into your ear as he spurted his seed deep inside your warm pussy.

You laid limp on top of him, both your breathing heavy as his hands rubbed your back softly. "That was incredible Norman, thank you," you hummed. "You don't have to thank me, you deserve it," he hummed, hugging your naked body. You whined as he got up and went to the bathroom. He came back a few minutes later and lifted you into his arms, carrying you into the bathroom and placing you in the water-filled tub. He came in and sat behind you, your body pressed against his. "Are you in any pain angel?" he asked. "Just a bit sore, my legs hurt," you said. "I'm sorry baby, I should've-" You pressed a finger against his lips and shifted to look at him. "Did you hear me when I said it was incredible? I'm just in a bit of pain, I'll be fine tomorrow," you chuckled, kissing his cheek.

Norman gently bathed you, making sure to clean the blood from between your thighs and your core. He laid soft kisses on your face and neck then carried you back to the bed. He dressed you in one of his shirts and kept you close to him all night. The sun peeked in through the window, waking him up. He smiled, admiring your soft features and your foot draped over him as you slept. Your eyes slowly fluttered open, meeting Norman's eyes trained on yours. "Morning beautiful," he smiled, brushing a curl behind your ear. "Morning," you blushed. You moved into his chest and fell asleep once again.

You woke up at about noon, the bed space next to you cold and empty. You took a quick shower and put on a dress laid out for you and walked down the stairs. "Oh, good afternoon Harry," you smiled, a bit embarrassed to see him. A look of confusion appeared on his face before he sighed and greeted you back. "My dad's in his office," he smiled and walked away. You thanked him and made your way back upstairs and to his office, hearing him mutter something about an appointment. As you walked in, he ended the call and turned his attention to you. "What appointment?" you asked. "Fuck," he thought. "I was supposed to have a meeting with Tony today but I couldn't make it," he lied. You walked over and sat on his lap, "I cleared your schedule today, Otto is handling things," you laughed. "I know angel, he uh, wanted to talk to me last minute but I couldn't make it." You left it at that and you walked back downstairs.

You didn't do anything for the rest of the day, it was both your day's off and all you both did was eat and watch TV. You went home that night, Maria lounging at your house as usual. Her jaw hung low as you explained the details vaguely of the previous night. "I'm so happy for you babe," she squealed, "I thought his dick killed you so that's why you weren't answering my calls." You both giggled and sat drinking wine until she went to do her shift at the strip club. You fell asleep that night feeling happier and more fulfilled than you had ever felt these past few months. You managed to pay off your student loan, your father's debt and you even had money to buy a car if you pleased, your life was right where you wanted it.

A month had passed and your relationship with Norman blossomed more. Your one month anniversary was spent at a five star hotel in Florida and with amazing sex and gifts. God, the sex was incredible. He knew your body like the back of his hand and you knew how to have him moaning underneath you. You were head over heels in love with him having never had what you both had with anyone else. You did however, keep the relationship private and away from the media, especially the Daily Bugle. Norman knew they would paint you as some gold digging whore and you would eventually find out what he was hiding from you.

You were in his office , you on his desk and his body between your legs, your lips pressed together in a sloppy kiss. "I'll make it quick," Norman whispered, unzipping his pants and pulling out his hard cock. He pulled down your panties and slipped inside you, your tongues dancing together. His thrusts were rough, shaking the desk underneath you when suddenly, the door burst open. You gasped and hid Norman's cock, Jennifer standing at the door. "Can you knock Jennifer?" he asked, annoyed. "I'm sorry sir, I didn't realize you'd be fucking another one of your assistants. Dr. Octavius would like to meet you in his lab urgently." She scurried away leaving a stunned Norman.

"What is she talking about?" you asked, climbing off the table. "It's nothing sweetheart, you know how she is. She's been here for a long time and she's always spread false rumors about me hooking up with my assistants," Norman said, squeezing your cheek. You nodded and went back to your desk, Norman heading to Otto's lab.

The following days were uncomfortable to say the least. Jennifer being the blabber mouth she is, definitely told everyone what she saw when she busted into Norman's office that afternoon. You couldn't walk without hearing whispers and getting side eyes. Your secret was now out so you and Norman operated as a couple when you walked in the building together but the relationship was strictly professional during the days--unless you had a quickie in his office.

You were in the lobby of the building, a few papers in hand when a pregnant woman walked in. She went up the receptionist's desk and asked for Norman then went into the elevator going up to his floor. You thought nothing of it then climbed the stairs and went back to your desk. As usual, there were snickers from Jennifer and whispers all around you. You picked up a whisper that sounded like "does she know?" You minded your business and typed away on your computer, almost finished for the day when Jennifer came over.

"Listen, I don't have time for your shit, I'm working. Please leave," you demanded. She scoffed and went back to her desk, her posse gathering around her. You got up to give in the papers to Dr. Octavius and leave for the day when Jennifer cornered you. "Ever since you've been getting fucked raw by the CEO you've been on that little high horse of yours but I'm here to tell you, you're not special," she sneered. You scoffed and tried to push pass but she didn't budge. "You're not his first rodeo and you certainly won't be the last." Your eyes narrowed in confusion at her statement and you rolled your eyes, trying to calm your anger. "Oh? You don't know?" she cooed. "Know what?" you spat, your heart racing.

"Oh honey. I've been working at this company a long time, seeing Mr. Osborn switch personal assistants like sheets. You're not the first assistant he's ever dated, he's probably dated all. He got his last assistant Felicia pregnant and she's on maternity leave." Your heart dropped and you searched her eyes for any hint of a lie but you couldn't find any. "In fact, she's in his office right as we speak, go see for yourself. I'm not trying to be a bitch Y/N, I'm just telling you, he's gonna fuck, fire then discard you like all the others." She walked away leaving you in shock. You couldn't believe what you just heard. Jennifer loved drama, maybe she made this up to fuck with you. Norman would never not tell you he had a baby on the way. He himself said that he never dated any of his assistants before you and that he fired the last one.

Jennifer's words lingered in your head like a broken record as you walked up to Norman's office, "he's gonna fuck, fire then discard you like all the others." You stood outside his door, your heart pounding, afraid of what you might witness. You took a deep breath and opened it your heart dropping once again. There Norman was, stooping down and talking to the pregnant woman's belly while she was propped up on his desk. His face turned pale as he saw you standing there. He parted his lips to say something but no sound came out. You swallowed the lump in your throat and plastered a smile on your face.

"I'm so sorry for barging in like that Mr. Osborn and congratulations," you said. "Mr. Osborn never mentioned he was expecting, how far along are you?" you asked the girl who you assumed to be Felicia. "I'm eight months, I feel like I'm about to pop any day now," she laughed, "we had been trying for a while."

"Aww, well here are the files you wanted sir, I'll be heading home now," you smiled, shutting the door behind you. You hurriedly threw your things into your hand bag and stormed towards the elevator. Jennifer and her posse stared as you did so, a look of amusement on their face but slight sympathy on hers. You ran into the elevator pressing the lobby button as your vision blurred, tears threatening to spill out of your eyes. "Baby! Where are you going?" you heard Felicia shout as Norman ran over to the elevator. You punched the buttons forcefully until it fully closed, Norman's bangs being heard on the closed door.

You sat down in the elevator, tears streaming down your cheeks as you sobbed, the revelation hitting you like a truck. Your head leaned back against the glass as you tried to calm yourself down seeing as you would be getting out of the elevator. You walked out of the building as if nothing happened and headed to the bus stop. You walked in the pouring rain, reminiscent of the day Norman offered you a ride home for the first time. You were thankful for the rain camouflaging your tears as they poured. You sobbed lowly, your mind racing. He slept with all of his assistants? He got one pregnant and he lied. He fucking lied.

Standing under the bus stop shelter you rolled your eyes as you saw Norman's car pull up. "Please sweetheart, get in," he begged. "Don't fucking call me that," you snapped. You stomped away in the rain, wanting to get as far away from him as possible. His car slowly drove beside you, his pleads annoying you. "Please Y/N, I- I'm sorry, please let me take you home, you'll get sick," he begged, "just get in so I can explain." You scoffed and stopped in your tracks, "Explain what Norman? Explain that you lied to me. That you have a child on the way and you didn't think to tell me? That you've fucked all your assistants and I'm no different?" You walked away from the car, leaving him there with tears in his eyes. You should be the only one crying.

Tags(some people who liked part 1 and I think they'll wanna be tagged idk): @druigswh0ree @queenlopez @stcphstrange @darknymite @dazedkrosupreme @wayfairingstranger01 @soficolins-blog @whotfiscamellia @localbabysnatcher @gmcbug22 @ghost-2513 @missing-glasses @jeffersonispunkbitch12 @darkstardust13 @hewlettscute @draggolblackthorn @antisocialfyrfly

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