#fic: appetence

[sailorholly]

Appetizer

Summary: A night out with the team takes a delicious turn.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. 18+ only. Minors DNI.

See my Masterlist Here

“Give me your panties.” Your boyfriend Spencer, commanded. He was different since he got out of prison. There was something dark about him now. You weren’t complaining. Sure, you missed the old Spencer, but now he was rougher with you.

The sex was good before, but now he didn’t treat you like a porcelain doll, afraid you would break even from the lightest touch. He was still sweet to you, but you would have to say the sex is better.

You look at him with wide eyes, reaching your hand under your dress to remove them. You place one hand on his forearm to steady yourself, pulling your feet out one at a time. You fold them, placing them in his outstretched hand. He puts them in his pocket, grabbing your hand before you leave to meet the rest of the team.

When you arrive, you take a seat next to Penelope. She beams as you settle in, telling you how beautiful you look. You order your drinks when the server stops by. Kristy, Matt’s wife is talking about their kids, but you stop listening when Spencer’s large hand caresses your thigh.

Your eyes meet his, he lifts an eyebrow at you. You turn back to the conversation, Spencer leans in, his hot breath tickling your ear, sending goosebumps down your arms. “I don’t want to hear a sound fall from those pretty lips. Do you understand?” You nod your head, breath caught in your throat.

“Alright love birds, get a room!” Penelope teases you. You smile and laugh, pretending you weren’t affected by Spencer’s words. You are suddenly thankful you chose a black dress, so nobody else would see your arousal flooding the fabric.

Spencer’s hand inches higher, so close to where you need him. You continue talking with the girls while Spencer talks about the case the team just solved with Luke and Rossi. You squirm, the anticipation making it hard to sit still. Spencer removes his hand, taking a sip from his drink.

You stifle a whine, pretending you have to cough. Spencer’s hand returns, higher than before. You wonder if he can feel your desire for him dripping down your thigh. Your silent question is answered when he rubs it into your soft skin. The heat from his hand makes you throb. If he would only move his hand a little to the left and put you out of your misery.

The server starts taking everyone’s orders starting with Penelope. She hands her menu to the smiling man, who acknowledges you. “For you, miss?” Spencer plunges two fingers inside you, and you can’t remember what you were going to order. You were lucky you didn’t cry out at the sudden intrusion.

The server smiles, but you can tell he is growing impatient. “I, umm.” You begin, but Spencer cuts you off. “She’ll have the steak medium rare.” He answers for you. You smile at him in appreciation as his slender fingers curl, hitting your g-spot.

You quickly grab your glass and bring it to your lips, trying to stay silent. His thumb slowly swirls your clit, and your vision goes blurry. You grab his arm, needing something to steady yourself. The server comes by with the appetizers for the table, giving you a sideways glance. For a brief second, you think he knows.

Any worries about that fade as quickly as they came while Spencer’s long fingers slide in and out of you. You’re silently praying that Penelope can’t hear the obscene squelching every time his fingers glide into you. She’s none the wiser, gushing to Tara about her latest date.

Spencer continues working you with slow strokes of his fingers, his thumb dragging across your clit in small movements. Your fingers dig into his leg under the table. You watch as he acts unaffected, eating the greasy appetizer with his free hand. You shouldn’t be this turned on in public, in front of your coworkers sitting right beside you.

The server returns with everyone’s meals as Spencer picks up his pace. He adds another finger, strumming your clit with his thumb. It’s an effort not to rock your hips into his hand when you are so close. His thumb works faster as he curls his long fingers once more, tipping you over the edge.

Your steak is placed in front of you, as your orgasm rips through you. You grip the table, needing to hold on. You’ve never came this hard in your life. “Are you alright, miss? Your face is flushed. Would you like some more water?”

“Y-yes please.” You manage to mumble as your pleasure fades. Everyone looks at you, Emily asks if you want her to go to the bathroom with you because you do look quite flushed. You refuse, blaming it on the restaurant being too hot.

After your refill of water, everyone starts to dig in. Spencer removes his hand from between your thighs, bringing his sticky fingers to his mouth. His tongue swirls around the tip of one of his fingers. “Mmm” he moans as your taste reaches his tongue. “If the main course is as delicious as the appetizer, I’ve found my new favorite restaurant.” He winks at you, wiping his hand on his napkin.

Tags

@cindylynn @potter-puff007 @multifandom-worlds @mochie85 @wheredafandomat @cynbx @lover-of-books-and-tea @lamentis-10 @zzumkii @megharat-barnes-reid @anonymously-ominous @kats72 @vivian-555 @itzdarling @emarich7 @nomajdetective @aelinismyqueen @wildernessflora @academiareid @loz-3

[blithesharem]

Leviathan + 🐙

POUNDS FISTS ON TABLE TENTACLE SMUT TENTACLE SMUT

Gender neutral MC - Dubcon warning (but they like it)

How had things ended up like this?

You and Leviathan had been studying! Holed up in his room on a blustery day, he’d been lending a hand with a basic summoning spell you were stuck on. It should have been completely routine.

Maybe it had been the rare confidence that he was showing, or how attentive he was as your tutor. Maybe it was just the sense of being close to him, and alone, with a comfortably locked door between you and the rest of the house. Maybe you’d just been feeling a little horny. Whatever it had been, your summoning spell had gone terribly wrong.

…or terribly right. The lewd face Leviathan was making where he was being hovered above you by a strong, thick tentacle certainly seemed very right indeed.

“N-no…d-don’t look at me…” Despite his protests, Levi’s flushed cock was rock hard. The tentacles that had sprung from your summoning circle had quickly overwhelmed you both, flipping you onto your back and peeling away your underwear and before you knew it, you had a pulsing tentacle filling your mouth, and one grinding between your legs and twisting over your exposed chest. Leviathan was similarly tangled, one smaller tentacle constricting around his cock, another thicker one dripping with slime had filled his ass, and you could see the flex in his stomach as it fucked him.

You moan around the tentacle in your mouth, unable to keep from bucking your hips as his pre dripped hotly onto your skin. With a pop the wet appendage was pulled from you lips, immediately flicking to fill Levi’s mouth instead. You watch his eyes roll as he came, splattering your chest with his cum.

“Levi…Leviathan…so sexy…” you praise dizzily, desperate for your own release, wanting to feel him inside of you. You’d already cum once, hips hovered teasingly in front of Leviathan’s face as you were fucked by the tentacles to orgasm while he watched, but you needed more. Almost as if reading your thoughts, more smaller tentacles joined the first, working Levi hard again as his watering eyes hazily admired the gleam of his cum over your tits.

Like you were both toys, dolls being mashed together for fun, the tentacles spread your legs, leaving Levi gasping as his mouth was freed so the length could guide his hips to yours. You mewl desperately feeling him push into you, and Leviathan is practically sobbing with need, panting your name with an almost incoherent lust.

“Good, so good, fuck me Levi –“ you drool, stretch to offer him your tongue as you feel the tentacle in Levi’s ass fuck him into you. Tentacles are grinding over your sex around his shaft, every thrust into him resulting in his own cock being forced deep inside of you. Finally you’re brought close enough to kiss, Levi moaning as you suck on his tongue and gasp into his mouth. The sensations have him overwhelmed, brought completely into oblivion by the warmth of your tight walls.

With an uninhibited cry you let your head fall back and orgasm hard around him, stars filling your vision and blood pounding in your ear. Leviathan feels like a demon possessed, unable to stop watching, even as he cums again himself, filling you with burning seed.

Then, as quickly as it started, suddenly it’s over. The tentacles let you fall to the floor, dropping Levi unceremoniously on top of you. There’s a delicious slurp as Levi is emptied of its girth, his fingers squeezing your arms at the sensation. Still catching your breath, you can see out of the corner of your eyes the flicker of movement as they slurp back into the depths from which they came.

You don’t know how long you two just lay there, spent and mutually fucked stupid. Leviathan’s breath is hot on your neck where he’s catching his breath, and as you slowly come back to life, you lift a hand to run through his sweat laced hair.

“…you…you okay?” you ask breathlessly, and he hesitates before giving a quick, ashamed nod. He’s more than okay. He’s going to be masturbating to this memory for years…no centuries…to come. But you...

He shakily rises to his elbows, looking down on you with a concerned face that’s bright red with shame.

“You?” he asks shyly, the tips of his fingers tracing down your cheek. You give him a sudden grin, and it startles a laugh out of him, and before you know it, the two of you are laughing so hard it begins to put an ache in your ribs.

Catching your breath for a second time, you pull him down for a proper, grounding kiss. When you pull apart, you narrow your eyes playfully at him.

“Hey Levi.”

“Y-Yeah?”

“You realize you could have gotten free if you’d used your demon form at any time, right?”

“…n-nooo…”

“…liar.”

[jakes3resin]

@getinthefuckingjaeger wants all of you to suffer through the pain of Amnesia fic (where BUCKY FORGETS WHO BUCK IS) as the palate cleanser before Stalag Arc (which is going to be pain on pain on pain)

[hearts-hunger]

Chapter Two: A Thin Noose of Sacred Thread {Series Masterlist | Series Playlist ♫}

Series Summary: A prince, a priest, a warrior, and a huntsman. They serve the god of the wood, and they have no choice but to obey when the Master demands a queen.

Chapter Summary: You have no Master but him, and no name but the one he has given you. At his call, you rise in darkness to meet his servants in the wood.

Pairings: Josh x Reader, Sam x Reader, Jake x Reader, Danny x Reader | Chapter Word Count: 2k | Warnings: blood, violence, dark magic, possession, religious themes, elements typical of a dark fantasy au

A/N: Hi!! I'm back!!! The new songs have given me so much lore to fool around with, and I'm loving all the new elements I get to introduce into this story. Let me know what you think, and I hope you like it! ♡

Sara.

Your eyes open wide in the darkness, every nerve alight to the sound of a name that is not your own. There is nothing, not even the dull glow of the fire; the embers banked by servant’s hands are cold, no breath of air to keep them alive. You search in the darkness, a chill racing slender fingers down your back.

“Master.” The word is pulled from your mouth on an invisible string, a thread woven in the bottom rib, catching on your teeth. You touch a hand to your lips and find them bloody.

Rise, Sara. 

The thread is tangled in your limbs now, pulling you like a marionette, and your feet find the cold wooden floor. 

“A dream,” you say. The thread jerks you forward; you stumble to the floor, breathless, the taste of metal and ice in your mouth.

Leave this place.

You shake your head, dazed. “I cannot leave.” The hounds lay outside your door, trained to wake the man who lays just beyond, the great hulking mass of muscle and bone that would kill you if not for the loss of the bride-price. He will never let you leave. The dogs would taste your blood before you felt the night air.

The floor spins like a child’s toy.

Disobedience, when I offer you mercy? Ungrateful child. Rise, Sara.

Your fingers scrabble for purchase on the moving planks of cedar beneath. “My name.”

You have no name but the one I have given you. Rise, Sara. Leave this place.

You cannot help but obey. The thread, a sacred force, compels you to movement. You stand, unsteady, drawn across the roiling floor until you meet the door.

“Where shall I go?” you ask. You hear the breathing of the wolves at your door, picture the jaws that have marked your skin before. Your breath comes in silver clouds. “Master, where shall I go?”

The wood.

You close your eyes for a moment, dizzy against the pull of the thread. “And when I am there?”

The voice is silent. 

You close icy fingers on the handle of your door; it opens with no key, something it has never done before.

Walk, Sara. 

The dogs sleep. You step over their warm bodies, your bridal-white nightgown slipping over their fur, and they sleep still. You look to the man beyond; his form lies prone on the bed.

“He is my master,” you say. 

The thread is choking now, catching on every breath, winding tight around your throat. Your hands claw at it, raking against your skin.

You have no master but me, and no name but the one I have given you.

“Sara,” you choke. The thread unwinds. You cough and gasp and feel marks on your neck.

You walk past the dogs, the beast-man, the door with the iron latch lacy with frost. Shuddering night air rushes into your lungs.

Go to the wood. You shall meet me there.

You obey. No thread pulls you now; the action is yours, each step quicker as your bare feet meet the path of frozen stone. The wood beckons, great gnarled limbs open wide, an embrace you have never been allowed to feel.

You leave them behind, the hounds, the father, the key in the latch. 

“Master,” you breathe.

Sara. 

—

Night passes slowly. Cold seeps in, marrow-deep, a sheen of frost on your bones that shines dull through your skin. You follow the tug of the thread, an insistent guide through clawing branches and snaring roots. Your dress is bloody, rust-red, where thorns have bitten your tender flesh.

“Master,” you call. Your voice is thin, your breath cloudy. You cannot feel your hands.

Soon, Sara.

You speak no more; you stumble blindly.

“There.”

You whip your head up. Your hair snags on the skeletal limbs of a long-dead oak that bow low to the earth. That voice is not your Master’s, but the thread pulls you all the same, as though the end is wound in fingers that tug sharply.

“She’s here?” 

Another voice, a sunshine voice, one that fills you with a sudden rush of warmth and light. Your bones protest the heat, and you give utterance to their groan.

“She’s hurt,” a third voice says. This voice soothes, something in your belly curling like gentle waves on the shore at the sound of it. This is not the pull of the thread nor the warmth of sunshine; it is something you have never felt before, something old, something deep.

You walk forward, seeking these voices. The Master gives you no direction. The trees seem to move in the darkness, slow and gigantic in the night, groaning with old age; you step into a clearing covered in delicate white frost, and it cracks like glass under your bare feet.

“Smell her blood on the frost,” a fourth voice rings out, sharp and crackling with glee. You shrink back from the sound, feeling it like a knife between your ribs. You do not want to meet the owner of this voice.

Before you can think to run, the trees on the far side of the clearing give one last great heave and show four figures on the crest of the embankment. The first is tall, his fingertips red and moving in a feverish mimicry of weaving. The second is ragged, dark circles under his eyes, but he shines with the rosy glow of dawn. The third is steady, hand on sword hilt; you feel the cradling wave in your belly again at the sight of him. The fourth is wild, his eyes like lightning, a wicked curve to his mouth.

“Master,” you say feebly.

Yield to my servants.

The first jerks his hands up, and you stagger forward. He must hold the other end of your thread.

The second looks between you and his brother. “You’re pulling her.” His voice aches like sunlight breaking over the mountaintops.

The first shakes his head. “I must be. I don’t understand how.” He pulls again, and you take another step. The fourth, with his glowing eyes, pounces like a cat.

“Let Watcher take her,” he says. He leaps down into the shallow valley with agility and grace; you try to move away, but your feet are rooted to the ground. You tremble violently as he touches you.

“You frighten her needlessly,” the third brother chides. He steps down to meet you; when his hand reaches out, he does not touch you. He touches the dark one, and a hiss escapes through the dark one’s teeth.

“Won’t let you put Watcher away,” the dark one says. “Weakling gets all the fun. Watcher wants to taste the little mousie’s blood.”

“You won’t have a drop of it,” the first brother says. He comes into the valley too, and his fingers are still weaving, closer to the heart of you, drawing the thread tight. “She belongs to the Master. You will obey, Watcher.”

Watcher snarls, showing fangs. “Little priest wants her for himself.”

The third brother strikes Watcher with a swift blow, backhanded across the fanged mouth. 

“Quiet yourself, useless thing,” he commands. “I ought to cut out your restless tongue.”

Watcher grins.

“Some fire in you, moonlight,” he says. He spits blood from his mouth. “Perhaps the Master chose the wrong twin.”

“Silence.” This order from the second brother, the sunshine boy on the hill. He is bent, stooped, weary. “Bring her to me.”

The first brother meets your eyes. “Will you go? Or shall I pull you?”

You shake your head. “I will go.”

You walk up the hill until you stand face to face with the boy-king, a hazy, shimmering halo of sunlight in his curls. He reaches a shaking hand to your face and touches your cheek.

“Corinne,” he says.

You flinch. “Sara,” you say. “I have no name but the one he has given me.”

He seems to understand.

“Sara, then,” he says gently. “My name is Joshua.” His fingers glance over the red marks on your throat. “He pulls you like a dog on a leash.”

You swallow. “I have no Master but him.”

“I know,” he says. His voice is soft sunlight through dappled leaves. “Samuel will not pull you so harshly now.”

You turn to look at the first brother, Samuel, the weaver. “You — ” Your voice shakes. “You are the one who called me? The Master?”

Samuel’s pale face flushes a vivid red.

“No,” he says quickly. “I serve the god of the wood. I am but a priest to serve at the Master’s pleasure.” He holds his raw, reddened hands up and splays his fingers, and you feel the thread go slack.

“I will not pull you if you will go yourself,” he vows. “The Master demands your obedience, but I shall not draw it from you if you will give it freely.”

Watcher crowds you. “Little mousie will give it freely,” he says, taunting. “Won’t you, sweet one? Obedience, blood, trembling little body made of ice and light.”

The third brother takes Watcher’s hand and presses, hard, on a sigil etched into his skin. Watcher gives a cry and sinks to his knees, looking up at the third brother with a dying light in his eyes.

“Jacob,” he pleads. “You hurt Weakling when you hurt Watcher.”

Jacob digs his nails into Watcher’s skin, and he glows with faint, silver light.

“You will respect your queen, you miserable wretch.” He casts Watcher aside, and the dark one curls in on himself. “I’ll burn that sigil into your chest if I must.”

Watcher whimpers, and the sound elicits no pity from Jacob. Samuel and Joshua watch with shadowed faces.

You shrink away from Watcher. “What is he?”

“A sprite,” Jacob says contemptuously. He meets your eyes. “He has his uses, but this body is not his. Another lives inside.”

The thought sickens you. “What do you mean?”

Jacob shakes his head. “You will lean, soon enough. Come, little queen.”

He extends his hand, and you take it. You feel that strange wave again, like the tide pulled by the moon, and when you meet his eyes you know he has felt it too.

“Do you — ?”

“My lady,” he says quickly, his voice cutting over yours. “I am your servant, a soldier to defend the Master’s chosen. My sword is yours. You have but to speak and I will act.”

You wonder why he has forbidden you to ask of the pull between you. Surely it has come from the Master; if it has not, what has it come from?

You search his face, and he gives the barest shake of his head. You tighten your fingers around his.

“A warrior,” you say quietly. You look to Samuel. “A priest.”

You cast Watcher a glance, and for a moment, there is someone else behind his eyes.

“A huntsman,” he says, and his voice is gentler. You study him for a moment more before storm-yellow swallows up the hazel irises, and Watcher returns.

You look away. You meet Joshua’s eyes.

“Who are you?” you ask.

He gives you a smile that is worn and faded. 

“A prince,” he says. “And you, Sara, a princess. Soon to be made queen.”

A breath of icy wind cuts through the glade. Joshua pales, looking upwards; he chokes, and thread-marks that match yours appear on his throat.

“Joshua!” you cry, panicked.

“Be still,” Samuel orders.

Joshua’s head snaps forward, his eyes locking with yours, and they are brilliant with the frozen light of a dying, blood-red sunset on snow.

“The Master has chosen,” he says, each word pulled like teeth from a broken jaw. “My queen, my bride. Sara.”

You feel it around your throat too, drawing tight, a thin noose of sacred thread. Breath escapes you, and the forest goes dark.

— @josh-iamyour-mama @writingcold @sammyscherub @hippievanfleet @gretasmokerising @thewritingbeforesunrise @stardustcatcher @sunshinevanfleet @dannyandthekiszkas @infinisonicosm

— let me know if you'd like to be tagged in this fic!

[burrowbaddie]

🫣 so nervous to post my Joe fic!

[dizaryswrites]

Additional Tags: Gotham War, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Panic Attacks, Bruce Wayne Has Issues, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Canon Related, Canon Compliant, For the most part, Protective Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne Has a Heart, Protective Batfamily (DCU), I can't really call this a fix-it but it's something Summary:

"Jason?" Voices called softly from a distance, trying not to startle him. He flinched anyway, pressed back against the rough brick wall. "D-Dick?" Tears burned in his eyes. At last. He wasn't alone. There was help. He’d been uselessly hyping himself up to leave for the past hour. What a joke. He couldn’t even stand. Chained by anxiety that threatened to swallow him whole. But as his siblings appeared in the doorway, a chilling thought wrapped its hand around Jason's throat. What if they were sent here by him?

Set right after the events of Batman #138 (Gotham War Part 4)

"Jason?" Voices called softly from a distance, trying not to startle him. He flinched anyway, pressed back against the rough brick wall.

"D-Dick?" Tears burned in his eyes. At last. He wasn't alone. There was help. He’d been uselessly hyping himself up to leave for the past hour. What a joke. He couldn’t even stand. Chained by anxiety that threatened to swallow him whole.

But as his siblings appeared in the doorway, a chilling thought wrapped its hand around Jason's throat. What if they were sent here by him? What if this wasn't a rescue but a visit to the zoo, time to gawk at the leashed beast and laugh? Maybe he won them over. Or twisted their minds too. What if they were only here to gloat and mock him?

A distressed sound cut through his rabbit trailing thoughts. "Oh Christ, Jay. What did he do to you? " Dick was rushing forward, reaching for him, then pulling back when Jason recoiled. "Jay, it's me. I'm here to help. We're here to help.” Hands raised, Dick sank into a crouch, removing his mask. That helped a little. Not seeing the same white lenses as him. Blood streaked down his sliced cheek, a mix of dried and fresh. There was more on the knuckles of his gloves. Was it from him? “Let's slow that breathing down first."

That was impossible. Because now Jason was scared that he couldn't calm down, that his heart was fluttering and slamming in his chest, chemicals racing through his veins, leaving him shaking and lightheaded. Black spots began swimming in his vision. Maybe it was okay. Passing out would be okay. His siblings were here. They'd stop him if he-if he-if–

[Continue Reading on AO3]

[voregeoise]

Love having preds be very distressed about realizing they're a pred. If you have no idea of what a vore is and you suddenly realize that you want to eat... I don't know... your friend, you want to eat them alive. That would a very concerning thing to realize. Maybe they try and ignore it, but they keep feeling that hunger grow and grow....

Do they eventually snap? Do they try and force their prey friend out of their life for their own good? Do they eventually breakdown to them about what they want?

Or do they bottle it all up? Letting themselves be hungry, so they don't hurt or scare their friend, unsure of what to do?

Maybe they break. They can't take it anymore. It hurts so much, they're so hungry... They need to feed. Maybe they can't bring themselves to consume their friend, so they pick someone else. Perhaps another friend, a coworker or simply a random stranger they just met. Maybe a few horror filled minutes later, they're staring at a soaked, scared, maybe even partially burned prey, freshly gagged back up. What now?

Do they bribe their silence, beg them to not tell anyone? Threaten to eat them again if they don't keep quiet? Or do they let them go? Feeling they deserve whatever happens to them now.

Or maybe their prey friend eventually finds out. Discovering their predatory desires. What they do? Run? Try and talk to them? Do they fear them? Or do they see how much their own hunger has negatively affected them and feel pity? Try and stick with them, help them work through it. Maybe they willingly agree to be eaten, after taking the proper precautions to assure their safety first.

Maybe not.

Maybe they nervously try and ignore the starved stares they revive as they try and help them figure it out. Try and get them to find some other ways to satisfy their cravings. Try and get them the help they need. Maybe it helps. Maybe the cravings stop being so overpowering. Maybe not. Maybe they simply continue to grow hungrier and hungrier.

Whatever happens, it's a very fun scenario.

[illiana-mystery]

Chapter 2 is finally up! (Sorry for the delay. It was in editing hell. 😅) Anyway, in this chapter, Leonhard returns home and finds Tatiana in his bed with her huskies. The two have a short conversation, before both going to bed. Then it cuts to them waking up and having breakfast together. Tatiana begins to flirt a little too, frazzling Leonhard. 

Stay tuned for Chapter 3 where Tatiana helps Leonhard repair the door lock, roof, and kennels. There's gonna be more bold flirting from Tatiana and a lot of blushing from Leonhard. Yeah, I'm talking pure cute, fluffy slow burn shit. 😉

Taglist: @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky​​, @ghnaim24​​, @iobsessoverfictionalmen​​, @emily-ella-nightshade89​​, @goodoldcharley​​, @braindead94​, @lost-in-the-forest-again​​

[bitegore]

*traumatizes your teammates on purpose to make them stop getting ideas* how come my teammates are so fucking neurotic. this must have nothing to do with me

[rotworld]

Offal

if you wound an animal, it will come back more vicious than before.

->mason/reader. explicit; contains noncon, rough sex, gore, mild feral behavior.

.

.

.

In—and out. You rake your fingers through the dirt and it gathers under your nails, but there’s nothing. Nothing to hold onto.

In—and out. People don’t make noises like that. Bears do, snuffling through a campsite. With claws and teeth and eyes like still, black water, they make those rumbling, throaty grunts while they eat. But not people. People don’t sound like this. 

In—and out. A sluggish, leisurely pace. Every thrust is slow but hard. There’s time to catch your breath between but you never do because then he’s in again punching the air out of your lungs. The thick drag of him, in and out, tugs at you inside. You’re broken. Your head rests against the ground and you look back, beneath yourself, and all you see is shadows—him—big and veiny, streaked with blood and cum.

In—and it stops. You’re full and breaking. His weight bears down on you as he reaches around, cupping your chin. He tugs your face out of the mud and makes you look at the cold forest. Delirious, you wonder if it looks back. If it sees you here, no different than any other pair of animals. Fucking. Fighting. Teeth in neck. Flesh in flesh. He grinds his hips into you and reaches somewhere deeper, forces past the clench of muscles and a hiss of pain. 

“You’re quiet,” he murmurs. “This the end of it?” He doesn’t pull out. There’s no room for breath, no reprieve. He stays right where he is and humps against you like an animal, a buck mounting a doe; in, in, in, deeper than before. You learn new agonies; what it feels like to split in two. Your thighs sting, legs spread too far apart. Cold, misty air chills the sweat on your skin. The dampened heat feels like sickness. He’s like a fire inside of you, licking pain across your muscles.

And then out. You’d collapse but there’s no further to fall. The hunter gets a grip on your hair again and tugs your head back at a painful angle. He makes you look at him above you. He makes you see just what you’ve done to him, the flush of his cheeks, the heat in his eyes. “If you’re done, you’re done. No shame in that,” he says. The words are gentle, soft like flannel. You’d like that, you think. You’d like to be done. 

In—and out. Harder than before. Faster. He wrenches a sob up from your belly, a sound you didn’t even know you could make. 

“We done, then?” he asks. In—and out. You feel the slap of his hips into you as much as you hear them. He’s so deep. It doesn’t feel real. It feels like a nightmare with impossible tortures, like his hands are in your guts. Like he’s clutching them, squeezing until they burst. Like he’s going to fuck them out of you, make room for nothing but himself inside. “Are we done?” he asks, and there’s a knife pressing against your throat. You cry out. You don’t recognize your own voice. That could’ve been a rabbit. A bird. Some little scared thing in the bushes. He grips your hair harder, pulling some out at the roots. He doesn’t hold the knife steady, too focused on the in, the out, the hot, clinging embrace of your insides dragging along his cock. Steel bites your skin. Your blood is hot as it slides down your chest, into your clothes.

“No,” you say, or try to. It’s more of a noise than a word, a pitiful whine that squeezes between your teeth. In and out, faster and worse and too deep, too much, like a hot knife and you can’t stop it, can’t do anything but writhe on it when he stabs it in. Your chest aches. Your lungs burn. Your throat is raw and you bit your tongue and there’s blood sliding down your throat. You writhe, desperate, helpless, hurting, but not done, a coyote that has decided the leg in the trap must go. “No. No! No!” you scream. The hunter moans on top of you. His grip around the knife goes slack and your fingers are weak, frostbitten and clumsy, but you wrap them around that bone white handle as tight as you can. 

In goes the knife, sinking hard through heavy fabric, skin and muscle. Through the leg, maybe the thigh, you don’t know, can’t see. It’s a blind, panicked stab that makes him shout. You’re shocked to hear that sound. Human. That’s what a human sounds like. Wordless, recognizable anger. The pain, the suddenness, it makes him clumsy. He’s slow to react. He shifts, tries to move the weight off of his injured leg, and you slip out from under him. You feel his fingertips graze your ankle but too slow, scraping down your pant leg.

On your knees and then back down, legs quaking, too weak to lift yourself but you can’t be, can’t let yourself be, on one foot and then the other, stumbling, shoving blindly against the hands that reach and claw for you. You have the knife and you swing blindly, catch something, tear and shred through it. You scream until you can’t anymore. Everything blurs, a rush of noise, movement, pain, and it’s seconds, just seconds, the most important seconds of your life, limping and staggering, throwing yourself away from him, anything to get away. You run, can’t believe it, run and nothing stops you. Your shoes slip over wet leaves and you’re on all fours, pushing yourself up the hill, away, uncaged.

You stop, just once, emboldened by freedom. You look back. You see the hunter leaning against a tree, chest heaving, eyes wide, red leaking between his fingers where he pressed his hand to the spreading stain in his side, but what does he see? You—animal. Blooded and bitten. Disheveled, mangy, furious. Your breath comes out hoarse and seething. You have to go. Have to hide. Rest. Lick your wounds. You study each other, hunter and hunted. You feel the balance shift. He looks vicious, teeth bared. His eyes are on the knife in your hand with heat and wanting.

You limp away, into the woods. If he wants it, you think, licking his blood off the blade—then he’ll have to come and get it.

[7-wonders]

Not me using a Bluey quote as inspiration for this oneshot I’m writing 😂

[lightningandfireinmybones]

since i luvvv babies, i really want to see how the couple would navigate their relationship with each other as new parents and parenthood in general, adults with no baby experience having a baby is always entertaining and fluffy to see. my other option is tied between the dark dead dove and modern au but since the latter is "full fic" potential imma choose that 😁

The baby one fluff potential!! The protective aemond, hurt/comfort and happy family potential,,,

They’ll all come eventually some may just take more bc we than others lmao

[hearts-hunger]

Chapter One: A Name Like a Death Knell {Series Masterlist | Series Playlist ♫}

Series Summary: A prince, a priest, a warrior, and a huntsman. They serve the god of the wood, and they have no choice but to obey when the Master demands a queen.

Pairings: Josh x Reader, Sam x Reader, Jake x Reader, Danny x Reader | Chapter Word Count: 2k | Warnings: blood, violence, dark magic, possession, religious themes, elements typical of a dark fantasy au

A/N: What a day to meet the master, huh? This au is based on the MTM music video, and it's a complete wild card for me. I'm using it as a place to explore all kinds of dark fantasy elements. I'm very interested to know what you think, and I hope you like it! ♡

Joshua awakes in darkness.

A breath is drawn from his chest like the string of a bow, taut, trembling; the sound of it mixes with the hum of the forest, the crickets and nightingales and the voice of the river. The air is cold, colder than he remembers it being when he fell into his dreamless sleep. He knows the prickling of his skin, the sudden shivering, the way his breath curls upwards in thin clouds — he knows these things like an old friend now.

“Samuel.” He reaches out in the darkness. “Samuel, I need you.”

His brother is awake in an instant. Even in sleep, Samuel is attuned to the sound of Joshua’s voice; he listens for the change of it, waits for when it will turn cold, dark, hungry.

For now, his brother’s voice is soft. “He’s coming.”

Samuel doesn’t ask if Joshua is certain. He can feel it too, that familiar shaking in his hands, and wills himself to be steady. He rises, moving sure-footed through the darkness; a lonesome wolf howls far in the distance, its cry made hollow in the trees.

“Hurry,” Joshua says. His voice is thinner now.

A third brother, a broken one, limps soundlessly from his guard post into the circle of trees where Joshua and Samuel stand. The sword at his hip is heavy, and the cold twines bruising fingers against his frame.

“What is it?” he asks. His eyes are the only thing left, the only part of him that he can trust; he watches as Samuel strips to almost nothing before pulling a long white robe over his body.

“God’s hand,” Jacob mutters. He whistles once, sharply, into the dark; a pair of glowing eyes opens and shimmers in the branches of a nearby oak.

“He’s coming,” Jacob says, watchful as the bright-eyed figure alights from the branch and lands like a cat on the ground, silent, graceful. He studies the figure’s shadowed face. “Are you Daniel?”

Sharp fangs show in a crooked smile. “Guess again.”

Jacob sighs. “Never mind. They’ll need a fire.”

The fanged creature hides its teeth and blinks once, twice, three times to rid its eyes of the feline glow. Soft brown takes its place, and worry finds a home in the curve of the mouth.

“What’s happened?” Daniel asks. Even his voice is different.

Jacob nods to the circle. “They need a fire. Your friend declined to help.”

Daniel shakes his head and bites the mark on the side of his hand, adding to the scars from teeth he’s set there before. “Not my friend.”

He gathers wood for the fire, broken ash and birch limbs cracking like ice across the surface of a frozen lake. Joshua flinches at each sound, his ears ringing, his head pounding; he hopes that the pain will not be as harsh tonight.

Daniel steps away when the fire is steady, flames curling and licking over the dead wood like serpent tongues. His eyes flicker again in the firelight.

“The hemlock,” Joshua urges, a creeping, frantic dread writhing like a living thing in his chest as the flame grows. He can feel it like a clawed hand around his heart, squeezing against the tender flesh.

Samuel ignores his brother. He knows which herbs he needs, which tinctures he must use; he mutters incantations to himself in a tongue that only he knows, a ghostly sort of song that makes it hard for Daniel to stay rooted. Everything must be perfect, and Samuel takes his time; he takes the herbs in his red-gloved hands, rolling dried flowers between his fingers until they crumble into a fine powder. 

Jacob sucks a sharp breath through his teeth. “He’s nearly here.” The pain is always worse when he comes, and it webs over his hip, his chest, his shoulder. He knows if he traced it with his hand it would follow the path of the white scars etched into his skin.

A shadow passes overhead, blocking out the light of the moon and a thousand trembling stars. Each breath comes in silvery tendrils now, and the forest grows quieter with each passing moment.

“Samuel,” Daniel says quietly.

“Silence.” Samuel’s voice is harsh. “The wine.”

Daniel brings him the wineskin in perfect obedience, watching as Samuel pours a draught into a silver cup. He mixes a portion of herbs into the syrupy wine and hands the cup to Daniel.

“Make him drink,” Samuel says. “Cut his hand, this time.”

Joshua is silent, still, closed-eyed when Daniel comes to him. Daniel touches a gentle hand to his cheek, and Joshua startles.

“Oh,” he breathes. “Daniel.” He studies his brother’s face as Jacob did. “You are, aren’t you?”

Daniel presses the cup into Joshua’s hand. “Watcher doesn’t like this part. It’s only me.”

Joshua takes the cup, and Daniel pulls his dagger from its sheath; the blade catches the light of the fire and glints back against the flames. Joshua drinks the wine, swallowing down the bitter mix, and extends his arm to Daniel.

“I’m glad,” Joshua says, and there is enough softness to his voice to know he’s still there, at least for a moment. His entire arm is trembling, from his fingers to the crest of his shoulder. “I’d rather it was you.”

Daniel takes Joshua’s hand and cuts its swiftly, drawing the blade across his tender palm. Joshua gasps with the pain of it; blood wells in the hollow of his hand, and Joshua closes his eyes and turns his head when Daniel holds the cup underneath to catch it.

Daniel kisses Joshua’s bloody palm. “I serve the god of the wood.”

Joshua’s eyes sting with tears. It’s harder to breathe now. “Your service is counted as merit to you.”

Daniel takes the cup to Samuel and leaves Joshua’s blood smeared on his mouth, a blessing, a baptism. Joshua holds his hand awkwardly, blood dripping to the forest floor, and each drop sizzles where it meets the soft, springy undergrowth. Acrid smoke rises from the places his blood has burned the forest.

“Jacob,” Joshua rasps. “Your turn. Quickly.”

Jacob limps into the circle of trees and kneels before his twin, leaning heavily on his sword. He pulls roughly on the collar of his shirt, exposing the top of the long, winding scar.

“The pain won’t last,” Joshua says. “Remember this.”

Jacob grits his teeth. “Just do it.”

Joshua paints his brother’s scar with his blood. Jacob groans and flinches away from the touch as every nerve along the jagged scar comes alive with pain; he bows his head and rides the wave of torment with an anguished cry.

When the worst of it has passed, Jacob looks up at his brother, his blood- and sweat-slicked chest pumping with greedy breaths.

“I serve the god of the wood,” he gasps.

Joshua feels little distress at his brother’s display; the cold is too hungry now to give space to the warmth of pity. “Your service is counted as merit to you.”

When Jacob rises, his pain is gone, and he walks to Daniel’s side without a limp. His body is mended, for now, blood and bone knit back together until the magic runs thin again.

Blood on the mouth, blood on the chest; the last brother receives a streak of red on either cheek, and Samuel offers his pledge with solemn dignity.

“I serve the god of the wood.”

The ringing is unbearable now, Samuel's voice merely a thread of the cacophony weaving through his head. Joshua answers the way he must, and his voice has teeth.

“Your service is counted as merit to you.”

Samuel spreads the herbs over the fire, and clouds of smoke rise from the flames in a sparking blue haze. Joshua comes close to the fire, breathing in the fragrant smoke; the pain is gone, the ringing silenced, both rising to a crescendo before they vanish as sudden as death.

Then, like a thumb nail in the tender flesh of a ripe fruit, Joshua feels something else come in with the final breath of smoke.

“He’s here,” Jacob says.

Joshua’s hand raise of their own accord, one bloody, both shaking. His breath is sporadic, choking. His eyes roll back in his head. 

“Don’t let me die,” he gasps.

“Be at peace,” Samuel tells him.

Everything goes black.

—

The shuddering inhale is torn from Joshua’s chest like the breath of a drowning man. Everything is spinning; he sways and only stays upright with the help of ready hands.

“What did he say?” he rasps. 

He feels the rim of a cup against his mouth. “Drink, first,” Daniel says.

The water is cool, soothing the grit of another voice in his own throat. He’s lowered to the ground; one brother holds him, another tends his wound.

“God’s hand,” Joshua curses, shaking his head to rid it of the blinding dizziness. “Samuel, make it stop.”

“Be still,” Samuel says, panting and breathless. “I cannot help you. Have patience.”

Joshua squeezes his eyes shut and tries to calm his breathing. After a long moment, he opens them again.

His brothers sit with him beside the dying fire. The sky is lighter now, well past the dark of night, pale fingers of sunlight stretching over the cool gloom of morning. He knows he was gone for hours, and feels a residual shiver race across his skin.

“Are you well?” he asks, looking over his brothers. Jacob sits beside him, supporting him with a steadiness Joshua has missed in his twin. Daniel is the one mending his hand, rubbing salve over the wound, bandaging it with a strip of cloth. Samuel sits just across, peeling his gloves off, sweating despite the cool of dawn.

“Well enough,” Jacob says. Even in his voice, his brothers can tell that his pain has subsided. They all dread its return, but for now, he is hale and whole as he ought to be, as he was before.

Samuel accepts the waterskin Daniel gives him, taking long drinks to slake his thirst. Joshua knows that the visits are just as hard on his brother as they are on him, perhaps moreso; Samuel stays awake, and it is he who must ensure that the ritual unfolds as it should.

Joshua puts his head in his hands. His head is woozy still, full of incense and ringing like a death knell with one word, one name, over and over.

“Corinne,” he says.

Samuel nods. “Yes. That’s her name.”

Joshua feels ill. “Who is she?” He cannot bear the thought of dragging anyone else into this Stygian nightmare with him, but a hunger that does not belong to him aches in his chest.

Daniel’s eyes flicker until they are not his, gold and fire-bright. “A little queen for the god of the wood, perhaps?”

Jacob scowls. “No one asked you, Watcher.”

Fangs show when Watcher snarls, but he doesn’t dare speak back to Jacob. Not now, not when Jacob fairly glows with strength and vigor from the blood-blessing he's been given.

“Let him go,” Samuel tells the sprite. He takes Daniel’s hand and presses against the sigil in his skin. “Now, Watcher.”

“No fun,” Watcher says, sullen. He makes Daniel shake all over, a great heaving shudder like a dog shaking off water, and leaves.

Daniel groans and touches a hand to his head.

“I could feel him,” he says. “I tried to keep him quiet, but it’s getting harder.”

“You need rest,” Joshua says, gentle.

Daniel’s smile is thin. “You need rest.”

Sam shakes his head. “No time for it. We’re going today.” He looks to Jacob. “Do you know where it is? The place he spoke of?”

Jacob nods. “South.”

“Warmer,” Joshua says tiredly. “Of course.”

He looks up at his brothers. “Who is she?” he asks again. He doesn’t want the answer, but he must know.

Jacob grimaces. “Watcher was right. She’s... she’s meant to be your wife. He's chosen her.”

“My wife,” Joshua breathes. “No. His wife. My body.” He runs his hands through his hair. “Does she know? Or am I to snatch some girl from her home under cover of night?”

“You are to do as he commands,” Samuel says, wary and serious. “You must obey.”

“We all must,” Joshua says bitterly. He studies the bandage on his palm, lets his gaze travel to the scars that shine white all over his hands, his arms, his shoulders. “I serve the god of the wood.”

“Your service is counted as merit to you,” Samuel says, trying to comfort him.

Joshua sighs heavily. There is very little comfort to him now.

He stands, and his brothers stand with him.

“Very well,” he says. “We'll go south, and there we shall find a queen for the Master.”

Read chapter two!

— I'm not tagging my regular crowd, because this isn't my regular kind of fic. I will however tag you sweethearts who seemed excited for it! @starcatcherkiszka @llightmyllovee @sammyscherub @starshine-wagner

If you'd like to be tagged in this fic, please send me an ask! ♡

[voregeoise]

Currently going through a bout of writers block, I've got a fuckin incredible plot laid out for a very ambitious fic. I just can't start. Adhd is kicking my ass, but they should be done eventually. Maybe a few months. Sorry guys, it's gonna be a drought for a while. But look forward to it, y'all should like it. Assuming you're a fan of anthro nagas.

[honeyhotteoks]

always only you (c.sc)

summary: the date was terrible, awful even, but you just can't call your brother to pick you up. you have to call his best friend instead.

note: hi um....... i'm back and a seventeen stan now????? don't worry, i'm still working on ateez fic, but s.coups has taken hold of my brain and i needed to get this one out there so..... pls enjoy

warnings: non idol!seungcheol, fem!reader, older brother mingyu, seungcheol is mingyus bff, reader is called a sl*t in a mean way by her shitty date, v protective cheol, reckless driving, unprotected sex (wrap it up dont be like them), reader is curvy and descriptors like full, thick, etc. are used throughout, makeouts, grinding, cheol is obsessed with pussy, i mean fr he's a bonafide wap enjoyer, an oral aficionado of the wettest kind, anyways there's oral sex f receiving, hand stuff, rough fingering, rough but passionate sex, use of baby and princess, creampies b/c lbr he's gotta, anyways they're obsessed with each other

pairings: s.coups x reader

genre: smut and more smut, childhood friends to lovers

word count: 14.2K

It was a bad date. 

Not the worst date you’ve ever had, granted, but still pretty up there in terms of terrible. He left an hour ago, the minute you interrupted his monologue to tell him that you were pretty sure things weren’t going to work out. You’ve never had someone leave in the middle of a date before, but then again, you’ve never actually told someone the date was bad in the middle either. 

Not being able to find the right guy is starting to feel embarrassing. It’s been years since your last relationship and months since you even had a second date. Naively, you had had such a good feeling about tonight and having to be proven wrong at breakneck speed before you even got your entrees feels like some kind of poetic karma for something you must have done. You just wish for once you had kept your mouth shut, but your good feeling had been infectious and your excitement about the date bubbled up out of you to your friends and your coworkers. 

You just wish you never told Mingyu. 

I have a really good feeling about him. That’s what you told your brother on the phone a few hours ago. We’ve been talking for a few weeks, I think you’ll really like him.

Stupid. 

You should have known he was on the rebound from the suspiciously large gap in photos on his Instagram. You should have known he was just trying to sleep with you from the minute he commented on your dress, from the way he touched your shoulder for too long for the first hug. You should have known on top of all of that that he would be boring from his joking non-answer when you asked about his most recent read. Sometimes it takes all of those things wrapped up tightly together and shoved directly in your face from across a dining room table to know for sure. 

You just wish you never said a word to Mingyu. You don’t want to see that look in his eyes when you tell him he wasn’t the right guy. His eyes always go soft, mouth downturned, and it kills you every time because he means it when he says - You’ll find the right guy soon, anyone would be crazy to not love you. 

Tonight you really don’t want pity, you don’t think you can handle it. 

“Are you ready for the check?” The server’s voice snaps you right out of your thoughts and you look up at his sympathetic smile. 

“Sorry,” You manage, “yes,”

“No rush,” He lies, immediately producing the leather billfold and sliding it across the tablecloth. 

The floor doesn’t start to drop out from beneath you until you open it, despite having to sit here and eat your pasta alone. This place is expensive, more expensive than you thought. 

Your eyes run through the bill. Four cocktails, two appetizers, two entrees, one slice of cherry cheesecake. The bills your date left on the table just barely covers three cocktails. You can’t afford this. The prices here were probably nothing for your date given how much he talked about his extremely smart investing strategies, but not for you. 

You do fast math, panic math. 

After paying the bill you’ll have 9,600 won in your debit account. You get paid tomorrow so it’s not the scariest number you’ve ever seen in your account, but it’s definitely not enough for a taxi home. 

Your stomach churns. 

You pay the bill quickly, quietly, the server’s hovering presence by your shoulder enough to tell you there is in fact a considerable rush. Your card is returned to you in moments, and he places a brown paper bag in front of you, “There’s an extra slice of cheesecake in there for you,” he says, “I’m sorry about your date.”

He’s gone before you can say thank you. 

You suppose you can’t really sit inside anymore if you’ve paid the bill and you’re holding a to-go bag, so you step out into the chilly night air. It’s been raining lately, but barely. It’s been cloudy more than anything, and yet here you are walking outside into the cold night air and a late autumn storm of icy rain. 

Your date was a special kind of bastard for leaving you stranded a half hour from your apartment in a storm like this. 

The comments he made about you, about your dress and the way it fits flick through your mind and your jaw draws tightly shut. If you had had the wherewithal in that moment to slap him or toss a glass of water in his face you would have, but instead you sat frozen with your stomach in knots. 

It takes you one flash of rage to scroll through your phone and delete the three dating apps installed, and then you open up your contacts and scroll for your brother’s name. He doesn’t live too far from here, and you know he’s probably out with some of his friends, but if you’re lucky maybe he’s close by. Your finger hovers over Mingyu’s contact, but you can't quite make the call. 

You’re twenty-six, you should be grown up enough to get home by yourself after a bad date and not have to call him to rescue you. Embarrassment floods you, the idea of admitting you can’t afford the taxi tonight just sinks into your bones. You love your brother so much, but the idea of seeing him look at you the way he sometimes does and then slip money into your purse for you to find at home makes you want to cry. You’d call him and you’d tell him you’re returning it and he’d play dumb - What money, y/n? I didn’t put that there, maybe it’s like when you find 50,000 won in your old jeans?

No, you can’t call him. You can’t go over to his lovely little apartment with his absolutely lovely fiance and cry about the sorry state of your romantic life. Nothing about that will make you feel better in this moment, absolutely nothing. 

You scroll away from his contact and you think about anyone else you could call, but there’s only one person who keeps coming to mind. There’s no way he’ll pick up, not when he sees your number on his phone, not after the way you’ve treated him for the past year, but his apartment really isn’t that far from here and if he doesn’t hate your guts you know he’ll at least give you a ride. 

The rain picks up, pelting you hard enough that you have to duck back under the measly lip of the restaurants roof for what cover it provides, and you don’t realize you’re well and truly crying until your cheeks feel warm and wet and you can’t get a full breath, but here you are. Stranded alone, broke, and loveless in an apparently ill fitting dress, and there’s only one person’s voice you want to hear even if it’s just his stupid voicemail box. 

Tears hiccup out of you as you dial, cold fingers shaking as you try to press the numbers you’ve had memorized by heart since you were thirteen and got your first cell phone. 

The phone rings twice before he answers, “Hey, you,” 

The easy sound of his voice makes your tears come faster. Your breath hitches in your chest, “Cheol?”

“y/n?” His voice shifts, “Are you crying?”

“I’m,” You hiccup again, “I’m sorry,”

“Hey,” He tries again, “y/n, is that you?” 

“I messed up,” Your head is starting to throb and you press your eyes closed, leaning back against the cold wall of the restaurant and hiding as much of your body under the overhang of the roof as possible, “I’m sorry to call,”

“That’s okay,” Seungcheol says, his voice sounding strained, “what happened, princess?” 

He hasn’t called you that in years, not since you were fifteen and carrying a torch for him. Not since you made Mingyu tell him to stop. 

“C-can you come get me?” You wish you could just stop crying.

“Tell me where you are,” He answers immediately, and despite the rain you hear the sound of his car keys. 

You give him the name of the restaurant, the closest cross streets, all blubbered out between fat tears and rain drops. 

“That’s…” He sounds distant suddenly and then his voice reconnects, “twenty minutes, okay? I’ll be there in twenty minutes, princess, just take a deep breath,” 

You drag in a shaky breath, “Cheol,” you scrub the tears from under your eyes, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know who else to call,” 

“Me,” He says, his car starting up in the background, “you always call me if you need me,” 

You haven’t seen him in almost a year, barely talked to him outside of sending reactions to each other's Instagram stories, but he’s coming. 

The way you fell away from him was gradual at first, and then an intentional self preservationist wall. Mingyu had introduced his best friend to a girl, and despite your high school crush being supposedly dead and buried, you weren’t prepared for what Choi Seungcheol in love would look like. You started being busier and busier until his calls went unanswered and then eventually his calls just stopped altogether. Mingyu told you later that the relationship didn’t last, but the damage was done and in the end it was just easier not to reach out first. 

You can’t believe he picked up the phone and you can’t believe the first thing he heard from you in a year was hysterical crying. Taking a set of deep, steadying breaths you wipe away the wetness from your cheeks. Your date had hurt your feelings, but you only let it last for a minute. You wouldn’t let a man with such a fragile ego get into your head, and besides, you’ve always liked this dress. 

Seungcheol makes it to you in fifteen minutes flat. He’s broken at least six traffic laws to get to you, including running a solidly red, redlight, but he really doesn’t care. 

He’s seen you cry before, plenty of times. When you skinned your knee at seven or that time he and Mingyu played a prank when you were eleven, tricking you into thinking you were home alone on Halloween night. He’s seen you cry at movies and at videos of puppies and the sound of moving music, and he remembers your eyes full of glassy tears watching Mingyu graduate college. He remembers the sound of it when your grandmother died when you were nineteen, the way your shoulders shook and your breath wheezed as you hid your face tightly in your brother's chest while he looked on feeling so, so helpless. 

Seungcheol remembers all of it, but he’s never heard you sound like you did tonight.  

Mingyu had said you had a date. Earlier in Seungcheol’s night at a bar not far from his apartment, his best friend mentioned it off hand. Mingyu said it like an afterthought as he answered one of your texts. Seungcheol tried not to notice the way his hand tightened on his beer can, enough to make the aluminum crack inwards on itself where his thumb dug into the cool metal. He tried not to think too much about what that meant, just like he’s been trying not to think too much about you at all lately. 

Now his mind is racing, threading the pieces together as the wet road whips by. The threadiness of your voice turns synonymous with panic in his mind and now all he can think about is how he’ll find you when he gets there. He goes over the facts he knows while he stops behind a small block of traffic, his knuckles white as he grips the wheel. 

A date, a bad date, a date you needed a ride away from. The kind of date you couldn’t tell your brother about, when he knows that Mingyu is always your first call. As the traffic disperses he presses the gas pedal and weaves around the slower cars, images flickering in his mind’s eye. A faceless man looking at you, making you uncomfortable, pressing into your space. His mind loops on the image of an unwanted kiss, of pushy hands finding their way under your blouse. 

By the time he’s skidding into the parking lot of the restaurant his hands are shaking and he’s ready to kill. 

When he sees you, wet and shivering on the sidewalk, he nearly falls out of the car trying to get to you. He leaves the key in the ignition, the door flung wide open with warmth pouring out into the chilly night air. 

He looks flustered, rumpled like he was having a quiet night in. Heavy gray sweatpants that hang just right on his hips and an oversized white shirt. He’s wearing socks and slides and the second you see him it dawns on you that when you called him you must have sounded hysterical because he didn’t even try to dress for the icy weather. 

“You look terrible,” You clap a hand over your lips to stop yourself from laughing, and you can’t believe that’s the first thing you manage to say to him after a year. You hate yourself for having no filter, no off switch, no ability to just be normal and say thank you for coming all this way. 

His expression runs from panic to confusion in a split second, “What?” 

“Fuck,” You laugh, shaking your head, “no, sorry, you look good, but it’s raining like hell, get in the car,” 

He blinks, “y/n,” 

“Come on,” You duck out from beneath the measly roof overhang and dart towards the passenger side door, “it’s freezing, I’ll explain in the car,” 

Your dress is wet, but not soaked through, so you hope you won’t do any damage to his seats as you slide into the warmth of his car and shut the door. It takes him at least thirty seconds to follow you, but through his confusion at your reaction you bet he finally registers the cold wetness of his socks and it snaps him back to reality. 

He leaves the car in park and turns his body to you. 

You owe him an explanation, especially given the way you cried on the phone to him twenty minutes ago, but all you can think right now is that it’s really, really nice to see his face again. His hair has gotten longer, shaggier and curled a little at the neck and it might just be the fit of his shirt, but he looks broader. It’s only been a year, but he looks so much more like a man now. All you can manage is, “Hey, Cheol,” 

“Hey,” He answers, shifting himself further in the seat so that he’s almost twisted up sideways, one leg tucked up to accommodate the position. 

The front of his shirt is damp with rain and clinging a bit to his chest and you look down. You really do not need to be having these kinds of thoughts about him again, it’s only been a minute, ninety seconds at the most.  

“y/n,” He says, his voice slow and soft, “what happened?” 

Shame floods you, heating your cheeks red. 

He stretches a hand across the center console, but he stops halfway, his fingers closing into a loose fist, “You know you can tell me anything, right?” 

“I know,” 

“I won’t tell Gyu,” He offers quietly, “just tell me what happened, and I promise, I’ll take care of it.” 

Oh. 

Your head snaps up at his serious tone, “Nothing happened, I’m fine,” 

He looks more confused than before if that’s even possible, and you can practically see him working out his next words. 

“Cheol,” You shake your head, “I’m serious, I’m completely fine, I just needed a ride,” 

“You were crying,” He says, not a question but a fact. 

“I know,” You sigh. 

“You were crying like something happened,” He draws his arm back and runs a hand through his damp hair, “and you called me?” 

“I know,” You repeat, “it was a bad date, but that’s all it was. He ditched me without a ride though and I just,” 

Seungcheol’s lips close at your words as he waits for you to finish. 

“The thought of calling Mingyu and telling him about this just,” You clear your throat to push back a little bubble of emotion, “yeah, I couldn’t do that,” 

“Oh,” His voice drops, and Seungcheol shifts in his seat, throwing the car into drive, “got it.” 

“No, Cheol,” You shake your head, “that’s not what I meant,” 

“It’s fine,” He peels out of the parking lot, “I’ll drive you home.”

He’s angry, pissed at you in that way he gets pissed. Tightened jaw, heavy sighs, his knee bouncing in irritation. If you give it five minutes he’ll tell you what’s bothering him, he’ll say it in a fast rush like he’s more disappointed than mad. You have to let him come to you when he’s like this, no amount of trying to explain will fix it, so you wait. 

The drive is silent, and you fight the urge to jump in with directions when he approaches each light and turn. He knows where your apartment is, he helped you move in four years ago when you graduated college. Mingyu and his friends lifting box after box and telling you to just relax and let the professionals handle it. You smile at the memory. 

He stays quiet until he turns off the major road and down the side streets that will take you to your apartment, but finally he says, “You can’t just call me like that and expect me to drop everything when you have a bad date,” 

“Were you busy?” You didn’t think so judging by the state of his clothes, but it’s not out of the realm of possibility. He could have had friends over, maybe a girl. You wonder idly if he’s seeing someone. 

“That’s not the point,” He glances at you, “and you know it.” 

“I’m sorry,” You tell him, and you mean it, “I really didn’t know who to call, and I just,” 

“What, y/n?” He pushes a little. 

“I just don’t want to tell Mingyu about the date,” You confess, “and I didn’t mean to call you and be such a mess, the date really was bad and I was feeling sorry for myself, and I didn’t have enough money to get home,” 

“What?” He swivels his head to the side for a moment and then refocuses on the road. 

“I would have called a taxi,” You explain, “but my fucking date left and didn’t pay after we ordered all this food and it was more than I was planning for,” 

“He didn’t pay?” He sounds disgusted and you smile. 

“No,” You tell him, “but in fairness, I did tell him in the middle of the date it wasn’t going to work out,” 

He laughs sharply, and you know he’s still irritated but at least he’s listening, “That bad?” 

“Yeah,” You sigh, “but it is what it is,” 

He glances over to you again, “So he walked out?” 

“Basically,” You nod, “he said what he needed to say, dropped twenty-thousand won on the table like that was going to cover anything and walked out. At least now I know he was an asshole, I’m not missing out on anything,” 

“What did he say to you?” His voice pops up an octave. 

You’d really rather not tell him, you’d be fine burying the comment he made deep down inside never to be unpacked again. You shake your head, “It’s fine,” 

“It doesn’t seem fine,” He starts, but you smoothly cut back in. 

“I just didn’t want Gyu to feel bad for me I guess, he knew I was looking forward to the date, and having to call for a ride like this, I don’t know. I was embarrassed,” You explain. 

“I still don’t understand why you called me, though,” He admits, and you can still feel the tension in him even though the conversation has been ebbing and flowing, “I’m not your brother.” 

Irritation sparks in you at the comment, “I know you’re not,” you turn to him, “but we’re friends, aren’t we?” 

“Friends call each other,” He says simply, “don’t they?” 

You let his comment sit in the air between you for a moment, and then you sigh, “Yeah, they do. I’m sorry I disappeared on you like that,” 

“I tried calling,” He says softly, “but you were always busy,” 

“I know,” You breathe. 

He drives further, slower now and safer that you’re in the car, and you can see him thinking through your words. Finally he slides his hand across the center console with his palm turned up, offering you his hand, “y/n,” he says, “are you doing okay? With money, I mean, after what you said?” 

“I’m good,” You tell him, “it was just shitty timing,” 

“If you need anything,” He squeezes your hand as you slide your palm across his, “I’m here, we don’t have to say anything to,” 

 “I’m okay,” You assure him, “but thank you, seriously,” 

He nods, accepting your words, but then he asks something harder, “What did that guy say to you, y/n? I know you, you weren’t crying like that over not being able to get a taxi,” 

You sigh, leaning back in the passenger seat, “Can I ask you to let it go?” 

“You can ask,” He shrugs, “but so can I.” 

You sit quietly, looking at your entwined hands resting on your knee. His thumb strokes over your knuckles slowly. 

“Fine,” You murmur, “he said he didn’t want to date me anyways, he just came to sleep with me,” 

His hand tightens on yours. 

“And if I wasn’t going to fuck him,” You do your best to clean up some of the language he used when he got up from the table, “I shouldn’t have dressed like a slut,” 

You leave out the part that really cut deep, the part that made the more form fitting dress you chose go from sexy to something sour. 

“Give me this asshole’s name,” Seungcheol skids to a stop a little too harshly at the next traffic light and turns to you. 

“No,” You shake your head, “I’m fine now, it just stung,” 

His lips close in a tight line and then he sighs, “I’m so sorry someone said that to you,” 

“Don’t apologize, Cheol,” You squeeze his hand, “you didn’t say it.” 

“I know, but still,” He holds your gaze, “it was mean, and you deserve much better from a guy you’re seeing, and you don’t look like, or I mean, you aren’t a,” 

You smile as he stumbles over his words and someone behind him gently honks the horn enough to let him know the light has gone green. 

He jolts and refocuses on the road, clearing his throat, “What I’m trying to say is that you look nice, pretty. The dress is good, and you, um, you don’t look,” 

“Thank you,” You cut him off, trying to save him from swallowing his own tongue out of embarrassment, and you ignore the way your stomach flipped over on itself hearing Seungcheol call you pretty. 

“Yeah,” He swallows, slowing down to make the final turn onto your little block, “you know what I mean,” 

“Mhm,” You laugh, breaking down any lingering tension, “Cheol, are you a little disappointed you didn’t get to punch my date? Is that it?” 

“Shut up,” He sighs. 

“Aw,” You smile as he pulls into a space by your apartment, “You were worried about me?” 

He rolls his eyes as he kills the ignition, “You were hysterical,” he says, “what was I supposed to think?” 

“Don’t worry,” You smile as he throws open the driver’s side door, “I think it’s kind of sweet that you went all knight and shining armor on me,” 

His lip twitches, “Don’t make fun,” he says, “I thought something bad happened to you,” 

“Nothing bad happened to me,” You find yourself assuring him again even though he already knows this, and you twist the moment back to a joke as quickly as you can, “unless you count listening to a guy talk about his ex for twenty minutes,” 

He grimaces, “Ugh,” 

“Exactly,” 

“Actually, you know what,” He grins, “you’re right, that is a terrible date and you were right to call me,” 

He’s out of the car and crossing to your door and relief floods your chest. Just like that, you’re back to normal. 

Seungcheol pulls open your door to let you out and says, “Do you have a towel or something?” 

“You want to come up?” 

“If you don’t mind,”

“You just swooped in and saved my night, Coups, of course I don’t mind.” He smiles at the nickname, the one mostly used by his friend group and coined by Seungcheol himself during their short lived Soundcloud music career freshman year of college. The nickname stuck, but you and Mingyu knew him before and you’ve both always, always called him Seungcheol. 

He ducks his head, smiles, and follows you up the stairs and into your apartment just like old times. 

It’s a little strange seeing him like this after so much time has passed, but no matter what has happened in your life, even when your childhood little crush on him was making your nights sleepless, he’s always been there. He’s been a constant in your life since you could form memories, and when you really think about it, you’ve never not known Seungcheol. Suddenly seeing him in your living room feels right, and it makes you wonder why you couldn’t pick up the phone and say something real to him this past year.

“It looks good in here,” He offers, toeing off his slides in the entryway and stepping into your little living room, “it looks like you,” 

“Thanks,” You’re pretty sure the floor of your bedroom is still covered in clothes from earlier, but he’s not going to see that and you’re just glad you didn’t let that chaos spillover out here. 

“So,” He clears his throat lightly. 

“Towel,” You jump, “right, hold on,” 

You disappear down the hall and Seungcheol’s chest goes fluttering fast. He doesn’t need a towel, he doesn’t need anything except a pair of dry socks and his own bed, and he can’t figure out for the life of him why he gave into the little voice that told him to come upstairs. You’ve made it pretty clear over the past year or so that you’ve grown up, you’ve made your own group of friends outside of him and your brother and the guys. He doesn’t need to be here, you don’t need him anymore, you just needed a ride. 

But he’s missed you a little. A lot if he’s being honest with himself. Sometimes he finds himself asking Mingyu about you, hoping you might drop by while he’s at his best friend’s place. Your name on his phone screen earlier in the night had stopped his heart cold. He couldn’t imagine why you were calling and not just texting, and he picked up the phone so fast he thought he might have fucked it up and accidentally pressed end. He tried to sound casual, normal, but his heart was pounding. 

Standing in your living room he feels out of place, like a forgotten childhood relic unboxed in the middle of a new home. He doesn’t know which seat to sit in, he doesn’t have his spot on your couch here like he did at your old place. He doesn’t know where you keep your glasses or which remote would switch on the television. He doesn’t know which book you’ve been reading from the little stack on the table or the name of the place you’ve been working, and there’s a man’s jacket hanging on the wall in the hallway that he doesn’t recognize. He hopes it’s Mingyu’s. 

He doesn’t know why he’s here. He should leave. He should go. 

“Okay,” Your voice comes back, and he tears his eyes away from the little details of your life he doesn’t recognize to look back at you, “I’ve got a towel, socks, and I bet I have a sweatshirt of Gyu’s around here if you’re cold,” 

“I’m good,” He recovers, taking the dry items from your hands. 

Your fingers brush along his as you pass everything off and your stomach jumps. 

“Come in,” You wave him in, “I’ll make some coffee or something and then I need to change,” 

“You should get a warm shower,” He says abruptly, “you’ll catch a cold,” 

“I’m fine,” You shake your head, “I wasn’t out there for too long,” 

“I’ll make the coffee then, you need to get out of that wet dress,” He shoos you away and points to your kitchen, “I assume you have a normal coffee machine and not some fancy Italian thing?” 

“I think you’ll be fine,” You smile, “I’ll just be a second,” 

He nods, and you dart back down the hallway to your bedroom. 

It takes you three minutes to change into something comfortable and clean and then kick all of your scattered clothes into the closet and shut the door. You run a brush through your tangled hair from the rain, and you almost forget that your childhood crush is walking freely around your apartment, but then you hear his laugh and you melt into the wall behind you. You missed the sound of it so much, and if you don’t get a handle on this right now you’re going to go out there and make a fool of yourself. 

But then he laughs again. 

You smile as you come back out into the living room, leaving your good sense behind in the bathroom, “What’s so funny?” 

“I haven’t seen these in years,” He grins, and as you come around the corner you realize he’s looking at the photos you have framed and sitting in various spots on your bookshelf. 

“Oh,” You smile, seeing the one he’s holding and studying, “yeah,” 

“This one,” He tips the frame so you can see the picture, but you already know which one, Mingyu and Seungcheol in their first year of college stand in the center of the frame, Wonwoo, Jeonghan, Dokyeom, and Hoshi with their arms thrown around each other on either side. You are crouching in the center with Jeonghan’s little sister, both of you holding out a peace sign. 

“Isn’t this the night we went to that haunted theme park?” Seungcheol asks with a smile. 

“Yeah,” You take the photo back from him and look it over for a moment, “in Daegu,” 

He nods, “I remember,” 

“Yeah,” You place the photo back in it’s assigned spot and turn towards the kitchen, “I just remember you and DK scaring the living shit out of me,” 

“God,” He runs a hand through his hair, “we did, I felt so bad about that after,” 

“Mm,” You laugh. 

“Gyu reamed us out for it later,” He follows you into the kitchen and watches as you pour two cups of freshly brewed coffee. 

“He never told me that,” Your eyes perk up in surprise. 

“He said,” Seungcheol straightens himself up to his full height and lets his face go passive for his impression, “‘If you ever make my sister cry like that again, you’ll be sorry,’” 

“Sorry?” You laugh, “Mingyu wouldn’t know how to make someone sorry if his life depended on it,” 

“I don’t know,” He shrugs, relaxing his shoulders and reaching for his cup, “it seemed pretty clear he wasn’t fucking around, we took him seriously,” 

“Wow,” You lean against the counter, “that’s actually kind of sweet,” 

“He’s always been protective of you,” Seungcheol points out, “even now, he’ll talk about you and I can see it,” 

“I’m not a kid anymore, though,” You bristle a little. 

“He knows that,” Seungcheol shakes his head, “he just worries, you know, it’s his nature,” 

“Yeah,” You nod, taking a long sip of your coffee, “I know,” 

Seungcheol hovers, not finding a place to lean or to sit in the unfamiliar place, and finally he just asks the question that’s been on his mind for the past twenty minutes, “Is that why you didn’t call him? He worries too much?” 

“I guess a little,” You move past him and back into the living room, “come sit down, you’re making me nervous,” 

He blushes and every little emotion you’ve ever had for him comes thundering back in your chest. There are at least three places for him to sit that aren’t directly next to you on the couch, but he ignores every one of them and sits next to you, barely a foot away, and turns towards you so he can put all his focus on you. 

“So,” He prompts you, “come on, it’s just me,” 

Talking to him was always easy, always. Even in the throes of your infatuation you were able to hold a conversation with him, sometimes a long one out on the balcony of your parent’s house. It’s almost irritating how quickly that familiarity and comfort comes back. 

“I just feel like I’ve been really fucking this whole dating thing up,” You confess, “and Mingyu’s been… well you know him, he’s like the number one hype man for me making all my dreams come true, and being ten out of ten happy,” 

“Yeah,” He nods, but lets you continue. 

“But I just haven’t been able to make it work with anyone in a while,” You bite down the reason why in the back of your brain, “and every time I tell him about a bad date he just looks sadder and sadder for me,” 

“Mm,” He nods, sympathetic, “I know exactly what you mean.” 

“I’m so glad you picked up, honestly,” You glance down at the edge of your cup, “you’ve never treated me like that, and I just… I guess I needed a friend and not my brother tonight,” 

He hesitates, but then his hand comes to rest on your knee and he gives you a squeeze, “I get it,” he says, “but, honestly it seems like you’re putting a lot of pressure on yourself,” 

“I know, but,” You sigh, your words dying out as you focus on his lingering hand on your knee. 

“What’s so important about getting a guy right now?” He asks, and you almost laugh at the absurdity of this man asking you that question. 

“Cheol,” You shift on the couch to reposition, pulling back your knee from his touch so you can face him and admit this without being dizzier than you are about his presence, “I don’t know, exactly, but… don’t you feel like living alone is kind of fucking lonely sometimes?”

His eyes flick over you and then he nods. 

The words keep coming as much as you don’t want them to now that you’ve started telling someone, telling him the truth of it and you grimace as you admit it, “The sick part is that I think it’s me. Tonight was the exception, he was a dick, but most of these guys are nice. They’re nice, they’re respectful, they seem to be interested in me, but none of them are what I want, none of them are,”  

You have to stop. You have to get off this topic and off this train before you say something really and truly stupid and burn this newly restored friendship down to ash. 

“Having high standards isn’t a bad thing,” He offers, “and Gyu sets the bar high for how you should treat a woman, I mean,” 

“You think I’m talking about Mingyu?” You laugh sharply. 

“He’s the best guy I know,” He starts to say and then the wheels start turning. 

It happens fast, your absolute lightning quick strike to the match, but your poor decision making usually goes something like this. It makes you mad at first, his constant reference to your perfect brother, but then it all makes sense. Seungcheol really has no idea how you feel about him, as a person or otherwise. It doesn’t enter his brain that the guy who set your standards for men so high might be him, even after he drove illegally fast on wet roads just to come get you because he heard you cry. Up until the last year of your life where you tried to install some distance, he was always there. He was always your first call, always your last call too, and you could never really see anyone else while he was towering right in front of you. He’s never let you down and he doesn’t even know it. 

“I can’t believe you,” The words slip out, and then you’re kissing him. 

He takes a sharp inhale of breath at the way you collapse onto him, holding yourself up with one hand on his chest and the other on his neck, and his mouth is so warm. You press the first kiss tentatively, and then the second a little more insistently, and then you realize he hasn’t moved an inch and isn’t kissing you back in the least. 

You fly backwards, your hand over your mouth, “Oh, god, I’m so sorry,” 

He clears his throat and shifts, shaking his head, “It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” 

“I can’t believe I just did that,” You blush scarlet, “I’m a mess, I’m so, so sorry, Cheol,” 

“Really,” He avoids your eyes, “it’s fine, it was an emotional night, and you just said it yourself, living alone is lonely. We’re good,” 

“I didn’t kiss you because I was sad,” You run a hand through your hair and slump back on the couch, “I kissed you because you were being a dumb ass,” 

“I feel like you’re insulting me a lot tonight considering I just drove across town for you,” He’s not angry, not really, but he doesn’t let you off so easily, he never has. 

“I kissed you because you’re the best guy I know,” You counter his words back, “and I’m sick of you always putting yourself down when-”

He yanks you forwards by your wrist, and this kiss is what you’ll count forever as the first one. He drags your body forwards as he leans back against the couch and kisses you hard, his tongue dipping past your lips this time, his breath mingling with yours. 

You shift for better purchase, your chest and his flush together, and you moan softly against his lips when his hand slips lower on your waist. 

He breaks the kiss, his forehead leaning against yours, “What the fuck are we doing?” 

“I think they call it making out,” You manage, your heart beating fast like a bird. 

“Jesus,” He shakes his head, “what are we doing?” 

“Cheol,” You start, but he kisses you again, hungrier and hotter as he pulls you in. 

You pant against his mouth, your brain exploding into little fireworks as his hands start to wander, and then he groans, “You feel so good,” 

This is going somewhere fast, and with your hands twisted in the fabric of his t-shirt you swing your leg over his hips and let him wrap his arms around you. 

“We should slow down,” You find yourself mumbling against his mouth, “but I don’t want to, I want you,” 

He nods against you, his hands squeezing your thighs where they rest on either side of him, “I want you too,” 

“We should talk more,” You manage as his kisses travel over your jaw. 

“Later?” He asks, his hands dragging you closer, “God, that dress,” 

“Yeah?” You’re breathless already. 

“If I knew you were going to kiss me I would have peeled it off you,” He pants. 

A moan gets caught in your throat, your hips jerking, nipples hardening against his chest as you throw yourself into another kiss. 

“God,” He shivers. 

“Cheol stay,” You can talk later, he’s absolutely right, and you beg him not to go between kisses, “please stay,” 

Logic starts to pump through him at the implications of that, so much more than kissing comes with staying for the night and he starts to shake his head, but at the way you’re touching him he can’t quite tear his hands away. 

“I should go home,” He murmurs against your mouth, fingers slipping underneath the hem of your t-shirt, “you’ve been drinking,” 

“I had two drinks,” You connect your lips with his again, tongue dipping into his mouth, “like three hours ago,” 

“Still,” He kisses you again despite his words, his hand now flat against the small of your back. 

“I’m not drunk,” You pull yourself closer using his shoulders, “if you don’t want to kiss me, don’t kiss me, but don’t use that as an excuse,” 

“I should go home,” He repeats, like saying it out loud might make his body follow his brain, but it doesn’t. All he does is tug you closer, your legs now fully splayed around his hips as he leans back against the couch and groans against your mouth. 

“I should,” He starts again, whispered thoughts against your lips, but you push back from his chest and break your mouths apart. 

“If you want to go so bad, go,” You pull your arms away from him, crossing them under your chest to hold yourself steady. Your nails press pinpricks into your palms. 

“This isn’t about what I want,” His eyes soften in that tender way you love, and his hand cups your waist, thumb brushing a line over the deep curve of your hip. 

“Why wouldn’t this be about what you want?” You press him, “Or about what I want?” 

“Mingyu is my best friend,” He says, his mouth drawn into a sullen line, “and I never want to do anything that betrays his trust or hurts him in any way,” 

“I’m not asking you to,” Your voice is small. 

“Just,” He sighs, his head tipping backwards against the cushions and his hands slipping to rest over your thighs, “tell me something, okay? Be honest,” 

“Okay,” 

“Do you want me because you’re lonely and I’m here,” He asks, his eyes locked to the ceiling, “or do you want me because you want me?” 

Your arms fall slack and you open your mouth to respond but he presses forwards. 

“Because if this is a one time thing to make us both feel better,” He shakes his head, “I can’t do that, I have to go home.” 

“Cheol,” You murmur, but he doesn’t lift his head. You reach for him, brushing a hand along his cheek and drawing his gaze back down from the ceiling to your face, “Seungcheol, look at me,” 

“Yeah,” He finally follows your gaze. 

“I love my brother, but this isn’t about him,” You tell him clearly, and you watch his lips part so he can cut in but you shake your head, “it isn’t. This is about us, and I’ve had a crush on you since I was fucking thirteen,” 

He blinks, a grin breaking across his face, “You have?” 

“Yeah,” You shuffle closer on his lap, “why do you think I disappeared? You started dating that girl and I just… it wasn’t my place to say anything, it’s not like you were mine, but,” 

He brushes the hair back from your cheek as he nods, “It hurts to see the person you want with someone else,” 

“Yeah,” 

“And you wanted me?” 

You nod, stroking his neck where your hand rests, “I just needed some space after that, I thought I could move on,” 

“I know the feeling,” He smiles, his thumb tender against your jaw, “believe me,” 

“I do,” You nod, “so believe me when I tell you I’ve wanted you for a long time and I don’t just want the one night,” 

He sits frozen, his eyes studying your expression, and then he’s moving. Seungcheol pulls you down to meet his mouth again, hands roughly threading into your hair and gripping your hip as he tugs your bodies flush together. He kisses like you hope he fucks, passionate and a little messy, like his need to be inside you and consumed by you is more important than any vanity. 

“God,” He groans against your mouth, “he’s going to kill me,” 

“Probably,” You huff a laugh against his lips, rolling your hips forwards to slot your bodies together tightly, and at the feeling of his hardening cock pressed against your sex you can’t help the breathy moan that slips out. 

He drops his hands to your hips, coaxing you into rolling them again as he presses upwards and you follow his guidance with ease. He curses softly and you roll your hips again, “Oh, fuck my fucking life,” he groans, kissing his way down your throat, “he’ll kill me, but you’re worth it,” 

“I better be,” You tease him, tugging gently on his hair as he licks a stripe along your throat. 

“Oh, you are,” He shifts back up to kiss your lips again, his mouth pillowy soft and hot against yours, “and I love Gyu, but,” 

“Seungcheol,” You push on his shoulders. 

His rarely used full name gets his attention and he leans back just enough to see your face, “What’s wrong?” 

“Can you please stop talking about my brother while you’re trying to fuck me?” You can hear the whine in your own voice, “I need you right now, we’ll deal with him later,” 

“Sorry, sorry,” He smiles, “of course, come here,” 

You melt into him as he gathers you closer, his warm, rough hands finding new expanses of skin to touch and it’s strange but delicious to know that there are still brand new things you can learn about a person even after knowing them all your life. He gets soft beneath you like butter when you touch his ears, audibly groans when you grind against him, and gets breathier every time you kiss his neck. He’s not afraid to make little noises in your ear, to curse when you do something right or softly beg you to do something again. 

With his mouth on yours and his hands exploring you, you’re just a shaky wet mess in his arms and he doesn’t even fully realize it yet, still so focused on studying your body with his lips, his tongue.

“Ch-Cheol,” You whine as his teeth nip at your pulsepoint, “baby,” 

His hands tighten, sliding to cup your backside through the thin fabric of your lounge pants, “Say that again,” 

“Baby?” 

He exhales hot air across your neck and chest, “God, I like that,” 

“You hate pet names,” You sigh, remembering how his nose always crinkled in an uncomfortable scrunch when he heard people getting too coupley. 

“No, I don’t,” His hand slides up, tucks under the waistband of your pants, and slides back down to feel your skin, “I hate cringey shit. You calling me ‘baby’ while you’re grinding on my dick isn’t cringey, it’s fucking hot,” 

“Ah,” You tug his hair just a little, rolling your hips again, “yeah? Like this?” 

His hips jolt up, pressing his cock against your clothed mound and he groans, “Say it,” he nips at your neck again and then pushes you backwards so that you’re sitting up straddling his lap, “and let me see you,” 

For a brief flickering second you feel shy, another stark moment of awareness that the man between your thighs is Mingyu’s best friend, but it flashes away the minute you see his smile. He’s looking up at you like you invented the sun and you think it just might make you dizzy enough to say yes to anything he could ever ask of you. 

“God,” His eyes rake over you, “you’re so fucking pretty,” 

Blush creeps up your chest, “Yeah, baby?” 

He swallows hard, his hands coasting up your arms and his eyes coming to rest on the heavy swell of your chest, “The prettiest.” His fingers tuck underneath the straps of your tank top and your bralette and he glances up to your face, “Can I see?” 

“Please,” You whisper. 

He moves slowly, peeling down the straps from each of your shoulders first, letting the thin fabric of your tank top droop down your arms until he’s left with just the stretchy elastic of your black bralette. His fingers trace your curves, the pad of his thumb ghosting over one of your hardening nipples until it pushes into a firm peak under the fabric. 

“Cheol, please,” If he doesn’t touch you soon you’re going to be a squirming mess. 

“Relax,” He toys with the strap, “we’ve got all night,” 

You gasp as he dips forwards, peeling the front of your top down entirely until your breasts spill out of the elastic fabric. His lips connect with your skin, tongue exploring intimate parts of you in ways you’ve never experienced quite like this with anyone else. 

“These,” He cups your full breasts in his hands, kissing along each swell, “are perfect, princess,” 

You shiver at that, whining in his grip as he traces his tongue down and ghosts it close to your nipple, but you smile and manage, “I really took you for an ass man,” 

“I’m an everything man where you’re concerned,” He flicks his tongue experimentally across the hardened bud and hums softly when you jolt in his arms, “so excuse me if I have to slow down and show my appreciation,” 

This crush is going to kill you, that’s the thought that gets instantly banished from your brain the second Seungcheol wraps his lips around one nipple while his fingers pinch the other, setting a steady pace of sucking and teasing that is sure to leave pleasured little bruises. 

“Oh,” You grip his shoulders, “oh, Jesus, Cheol,” 

“Feel good, baby?” He switches sides smoothly and sucks again. 

A jolt of pleasure rocks from your chest to your untouched clit and you rock down, trying desperately to press your aching center against anything for a little friction. 

“Yeah?” He prompts you gently. 

“So, so good,” You nod, rolling again, “but I need more, please,” 

He nods against your chest, pressing one more kiss to your breastbone before he says, “y/n, I don’t want to move too fast or anything, we’ll do whatever you want, but,” 

“But what?” You’re about a second from pushing his hand into your underwear yourself.

  “Can I eat you out?” 

Your stomach flips, “Oh, fuck yes,” 

You’re on your back practically the second you give him permission. He holds you tight to his chest as he pushes himself up off the couch and flips you around, dropping you back onto the cushions and tugging at your clothes. Normally you’d be a little self conscious, especially in the brighter light of your living room and not the dim strategic lightning of your bedroom, but Seungcheol keeps looking at every inch of your body like he’s starving for it, groaning in pleasure at every inch of you that gets revealed, and you’re starting to think he really does like everything about you. 

You help push off your pants with shaky hands, but let him loop his thumbs under the thin straps of your underwear and tug those free, a slick wet patch in the middle where you’ve been soaking through the cotton for the past half hour. You help him with your top, until finally you’re completely bare and he’s pushing you to lie back onto the extended length of the chaise while he falls to his knees before you. 

“Wow,” He breathes, his hands running along your thighs, “just… wow,” 

“Stop,” You can’t stop the blush now, and you fight the urge to reach for a blanket or cross your arms over yourself at his exacting gaze. 

“Nope,” He dips his hands to your inner thighs and pushes your legs apart little by little, “I’m going to enjoy every bit of this,” 

“Now you’re just trying to embarrass me,” You smile. 

His tongue darts out to wet hips lips and he shakes his head, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” 

Your stomach churns, flipping nervously as he looks at you so earnestly. 

“I’m serious,” He kisses your knee as he opens one of your legs wider, “I’ve thought about this a thousand times, but you’re so much better than my imagination,” 

“Cheol,” You whisper tightly. 

“Mm,” He sighs as he tips your hips back, maneuvering your legs wide and open now and shifting your hips to the very edge of the couch so he can tuck smoothly between your open legs, “I wonder if you taste as sweet as I imagined too,” 

Your fingers grip down on the cushions, your heart hammering in your chest. 

“Look at you,” He sighs pleasantly, his fingers ghosting along the edge of your lower lips, “is all this for me, baby?” 

“Uh-huh,” Your breath hitches as his finger just barely touches your seam. 

“You got this wet just from grinding on my lap?” He smiles, his teeth catching his thick bottom lip. 

“Cheol,” It’s all you can manage, you really didn’t know he was like this. 

His eyes soften up though at the sound of his name on your lips, and he kisses your thigh tenderly before looking back up to you, “Doing good? Okay?” 

“Mhm,” You’re fine, you are, except you think you might come the second he touches you and you’re a little terrified at just how intense he is from minute one.  

“y/n,” He squeezes you a little. 

“I’m good,” You breathe, “I promise,” 

“Okay,” He kisses your skin again and nods, “just relax, okay?” 

“I’m relaxed,” You answer too quickly and one of his eyebrows goes high. 

“Mhm,” He eases up on his knees a little to see your face better and smooths his hand from your leg to your hip to your stomach, “what’s going on?” 

“This is just a little surreal,” You admit, “isn’t it?” 

“Yeah,” He releases your legs and shifts up so he can lean over your body, catching your mouth again in a soft kiss, “it is, but do you trust me?” 

“Of course,” You kiss him back. 

“Then you should know,” He nuzzles your nose with his, “that all I want to do right now is make you come on my face until you can’t think, and after that if you still want to take this further we can, but baby, I really don’t care what we do tonight. I just want to be with you,”

Your mouth runs dry, and you can feel your core throbbing hard between your legs, your heart fluttering fast. 

“So, please, can I make you come?” He smiles, pressing another quick kiss to your lips, “I think you want me to,” 

“Yes,” The nervous knots in your stomach release, “please, Coups,” 

His nose scrunches as he laughs, kissing his way down your chest, “It’s Coups now?” 

“Cheol,” You whine, “you’re stalling,” 

“It’s called foreplay,” He licks a firm line between your breasts and moves lower, “have you not been getting fucked right, princess?” 

“F-fuck,” Your back arches as his lips travel down over your belly, eyes slipping closed, “Seungcheol,” 

He shakes his head, his hair brushing against your skin, “No more baby?” He makes a sulky noise with his tongue against the back of his teeth, “Come on princess, call me baby,” 

Your mind is spinning, and you gasp sharply as his fingers finally slide through your wet slit and land at the apex, pressing deliciously down over your throbbing clit, “Ch-Cheol, fuck, oh fuck, baby,” 

“There she is,” He groans, and as his fingers fall away and his lips take their place. He licks a deep stripe through your folds and groans, spreading your legs open wide with his hands anchored on the backs of your thighs, “You’re perfect,” 

You moan as he sucks the tender bud of your clit into his mouth. 

“I’m going to do this everyday,” He pants, licking another stripe, exploring every inch of your cunt with his tongue, “you’ll be my dessert every night,” 

“Ah,” Your head rocks back as pleasure lights up your spine, “baby,” 

“Mm,” He groans into your core, burying his face against you and alternating perfectly between sharp sucks and flicks of his tongue. 

You are moving fast, from nothing to desperate something in the span of a couple of hours, but honestly you’ve never felt safer and better and more held than this. His hands roam your body, seeking every soft place he can grab and squeeze and hold onto, and you just know the bruises on your hips will be worth it when he finally fucks you. 

“Come on,” He tips your hips back to get better access, wrapping his arms around your thick thighs, “don’t be shy,” 

“Oh, shit,” Your hand flies down to grip his hair and anchor your position as he manhandles you, your other hand gripping the cushions, “just like that,” 

He sucks harder and flicks the tip of his tongue against your bud again, quickening his pace and listening carefully for your sounds to know what you need. Looking down between your legs you can barely believe the sight, but there he is, Choi Seungcheol with his face glistening. His lips are puffy and red, his eyes hooded, and he grins when he sees you watching before nodding just a little and redoubling his efforts. 

Your legs are trembling now, the start of your orgasm building up through the base of your spine and flooding warmth into your belly, and if he wasn’t holding you so tightly you’re sure you’d snap. 

“Baby,” You whine, your voice sounding not quite your own as heat floods in your chest, “oh, God, please don’t stop,” 

He sucks hard, shifting to kiss your core and push the tender muscle of his tongue inside you, “I’ve got you,” he pants as he works his tongue faster, “I’ve got you,” 

He’s a mess, wet with slick across cheeks and sweat on his brow, and you think for a split second you might actually be in love with this man already, no one has ever, ever treated your body quite like this. As he shifts to tease your clit again, building the pleasure up and up higher, you grip down on his hair harder. 

“I’m,” You stammer out, your back arching and your mouth falling slack, “I’m gonna,”

He nods into you but doesn’t stop the pace of his tongue one bit. 

“I’m,” You gasp again, “coming, fuck, I’m coming,” 

It hits you all at once, punctuated with his sharp suck to your clit and your legs snap shut around his head, your body wrenching sideways as the wave takes you from conscious to that hazy middle space of pleasure. You can barely breathe, you can't even think, all you can do is feel pulse after pulse of pleasure. 

“Fuck,” He curses, and your brain connects enough to realize your legs are still snapped tightly shut around his ears but you can’t get your body to respond, “yeah, fuck, there you go,” 

Everything you are is trembling in his hands. 

“I could fucking die happy,” He says, shifting to nip your plush thigh with his teeth, his hands gripping down on your curves, “right here between your legs,” 

You make a sound, you think, and he chuckles against your skin. 

“Mm-mm,” He sighs pleasantly, his hands running from your thighs to your hips and down to cup your backside, “you’re fucking gorgeous, y/n, I love every fucking inch of you,” 

“Y-yeah?” Your eyes flutter open. 

“Mhm,” He flicks his tongue over your clit once more, eliciting a deep shudder from your hips before he says, “I can’t wait to fuck you,” 

Your legs start to relax, and you look down, “Then fuck me,”

“I want another first,” He shakes his head, “please, let me make you come again, sweetheart,” 

“Oh,” You shiver as he kisses your slit again, letting his tongue linger, “fuck,” 

He sighs, “This pussy,” 

“Cheol,” You blush hard. 

“I would do anything,” He smiles, flicking your clit again with his tongue, “for this perfect fucking pussy,” 

“Anything?” 

He goes still between your legs and then he nods, wetting his lips with his tongue, pressing a kiss to your quivering cunt, and looking up over your body to meet your eyes, “Anything.” 

“Will you come up here?” You reach for him, “Will you hold me?” 

He eases your legs down off his shoulders and shifts up, “Yeah, of course,” 

“Will you,” You nearly come again just at the sight of a sizeable wet spot on his sweats, and you tug at his shirt to try and silently communicate your need, “I want to touch you too,” 

“Mhm,” He stands up, shucking off his clothes as quickly as he can, and when he pushes down his boxer briefs your muscles clench. 

When you were younger, a teenager inexperienced with sex and boys, you imagined his cock. You saw the faint outline of it once through a pair of athletic shorts and you wondered what he might look like naked. You wondered if you would like his body. You wondered if he would like yours too. You can’t really remember what you imagined Seungcheol’s cock to look like, but you know this is better. It’s long, but not too long, like the guys who can’t fit it in all the way without smashing painfully into your cervix, but it’s thick. His cock is heavy, deserving of the word, and perfectly straight until the very end where it curls up towards his abdomen. 

You want him inside you so badly you could cry. 

“You okay?” He says as he slides up the couch next to you, your naked hip against his. 

“A little nervous,” You admit quietly, turning towards him on the cushions and drawing him closer with your hand on his shoulder. 

“Me too,” He says softly, maneuvering until one arm is wrapped around your back and your head is pillowed on his other, your chests flush against each other, his cock trapped between your stomachs. 

“God,” You shift closer to him, tangling your legs together, “you’re so hard,” 

He nods, sighing at the way your skin drags against his, “You’re making me insane,” 

“Good,” You smile, finding his lips with yours, tasting yourself on him and dipping your tongue into his mouth as you deepen the kiss.

He groans against you, and you snake a hand between your bodies to wrap around his aching cock. “Oh, fuck,” he curses as you pump your hand up and down his shaft, “easy, it’s been a while,” 

“Yeah?” You soften your grip a little, rolling your hand at the tip and feeling precum bead up and smear on your belly, “Saving yourself for me, baby?” 

He moans softly, his eyes rolling shut, “You’d like that wouldn’t you?” 

“Maybe,” You kiss the corner of his mouth and pump his cock a little harder. 

“L-let me touch you,” He pants, his hand pushing your hips back just enough so that he can fit a hand in between your thighs, “can I touch you?” 

It’s dizzying how much he begs to pleasure you, and you’re starting to think maybe this is part of what he needs, but you’re still new to each other’s bodies and learning and you suppose you’ll have time to figure all of this out. It’s not just a one night thing.

“Touch me,” You open your legs for him and he immediately slides his fingers down your slit to your aching entrance. 

“Don’t stop,” He urges you and you realize at the feeling of his fingers you stopped pumping your hand. 

You smile, kissing him again and finding a new pace with a stroke of your hand and a roll of your wrist, “You feel so good, baby,” 

“So do you,” He pants, and then he pushes two fingers inside your slick walls. 

You choke out a wine, pushing your hips forwards into his hand so he can go deeper. 

“God,” He holds you firm with his other hand, “you’re too tight,” 

“Too tight?” You huff, still working your hand over his cock, “never gotten that complaint before,” 

“Not a complaint, princess,” He teases, drawing his fingers out of your channel before thrusting back inside, “but I need to prep you a little, I don’t want to hurt you,” 

Your muscles clench down around his fingers. 

He laughs softly, “Oh, yeah, babygirl? You want me inside?” 

You nod, a whine trapped on your lips, “Cheol, please,” 

“Shh, shh,” He shifts, effectively sliding down the couch a little more while you slide up, and he rests his head on your shoulder and adjusts the angle of his arm so he can pump his fingers in and out of your channel at a steadier pace. He watches the way his fingers disappear inside you with rapt attention, cursing when he feels you grip down on him, “You want to come again?” 

“P-please,” You’re doing your best to keep working your hand, but at the way his fingers are curled inside you and pressing rhythmically against your sweet spot you think you’re about to see stars again. 

“Fuck, baby,” He sighs, “you’re so sexy,” 

All you can do is moan, grip down on his shoulder and let him have you. 

When he pushes in a third finger to stretch you, you gasp tightly at the sensation, the pleasure rocketing up your back and making your brain buzz. 

“Are you close?” He pumps his hand harder, finding your nearby nipple with his tongue and your body arches again. 

“Close,” You pant, your legs widening as you try to brace yourself, your hand falling away from his cock and gripping down on his thigh as the rolling wave of your orgasm starts to wash up over you. 

“Come for me,” He’s gripping you hard, like you belong to him and he wants only to please you, and his words combined with the way his hands lay on you leaves you coming apart at the seams. 

The sound of it is obscene, wet and filthy and pornagraphic and you’ve never in your life had sex with someone for the first time and had it be anything close to perfect. Your bodies want each other with such need. It's entirely outside your conscious brain, and you think if he can love your body like this then maybe he can love all the other parts of you, and you never want to let him go. 

Your orgasm hits you harder than the first, locking your body up in spasmodic elation, and he curls around you when you twist to make sure he works you through the crest of it, his hand only slowing down when the pulses of pleasure start to ease. 

When you come back to earth, you’re pressed face down onto the couch instead of up, your cheek against the cool fabric below you. Seungcheol is wrapped around your body like he’s glued to your back, and you feel his soft breath against your cheek and shoulder, his easy kisses on whatever part of you he can reach. His hand is still tucked underneath you and between your legs, cupping your cunt warmly and just holding you as you come down. 

“Cheol?” You murmur, your brain almost a little foggy at the heady feeling of two full body orgasms. 

“Hey, there you are,” He kisses you again, “feeling okay?” 

“Mm,” You nod, “so, so good,” 

He smiles, “Yeah? Did I get you?” 

You laugh against the cushions, shaking your head, “Babe, I just came so hard I blacked out,” your body stretches, pressing your core into the cup of his hand, “you definitely got me,” 

“Mm,” He rocks his hand and you sigh a little overstimulated sound, “should we stop here?” 

He doesn’t know, you realize it suddenly, he has no idea how badly you want him. He’s been so focused on your body, your pleasure, your wants, but you can see it now in the hesitation in voice that he still doesn’t know for sure if you want to be here with him or if you just wanted someone. 

He’s been touching you like it might be the only time, his only chance to have you and hold you in his arms. Didn’t he believe you when you said it wasn’t one night?

“Seungcheol,” You wriggle in his arms, “baby,” 

“What’s wrong?” He gives you the space to roll and you twist against him. 

You see his eyes when you turn, like he’s waiting for something and you curse yourself inside for not telling him like he was telling you. You smile, pushing his shoulder until he’s flat on his back, “What’s wrong is that you’re not inside me,” 

“O-oh,” He gasps as you hook a leg over his hips and straddle him, your body hovering over his prone cock. 

“Mhm,” You drop your body over him, your slick slit nestling directly over his cock, “but I’ve been so selfish,” 

He shakes his head to protest but you lay your fingers over his lips to stop him. 

“I want you, Cheol,” You drag your hips and find the head of his cock so you can dip and press it against your entrance, “so fucking much,” 

He’s breathing heavy against your hand, your eyes locked on eachother. 

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” You stay steady above him. 

He nods, just a little. 

“I’ve never wanted anybody like I want you,” You tell him, “never,” 

His lip quirks a little, a small smile as he presses a kiss to your fingers, “I’m all yours,” he whispers. 

You sink your hips back in one smooth flush motion, taking him inside you to the hilt without warning, and his head falls back as he moans. He’s stretching you out wide and full, his thick cock pushing into every spot inside you that you didn’t know could feel like this. 

“Oh my fuck,” Your body moves on it’s own, rocking your hips in a circle to take him deeper and roll your clit across his pubic bone, “Cheol, Cheol,” 

He blinks hard, finding your eyes at the sound of his voice, “Yeah?” 

You feel strangely like you might cry at the rush of endorphins, and you roll your hips again, whining out a need, “Hold me, please? Please, touch me,” 

Seungcheol softens, his hands unclench on the cushions below him and he coasts his warm hands over your thighs, your hips, up and down your sides, “I’m right here,” he murmurs. 

You relish in the feeling of it, and you direct them from their wandering comfort to a landing place on your hips, the perfect soft place for him to grip in with his fingers and keep you steady while you work him. He follows your lead, watching you above him with no hesitation, and his mouth falls slack when he watches you get your position right on your knees and lift up to draw his cock out of your warm, wet channel. 

“y/n,” He pants tightly. 

You sink back down hard and he groans, cursing and no doubt leaving a pretty bouquet of bruises where his fingers press down. 

“Your cock,” You moan as you bounce again, finding a steady rhythm, “you feel so perfect,” 

“Yeah?” He bounces you, teeth clenched as he tries not to come too early. 

“Made for me,” You grind down and jolt against the pleasure, “never felt something this good,” 

He groans, a hot pant of breath and then he stutters his hips upwards, “D-don’t, I’ll come,” 

“Good,” You sink down and back up, feeling him stretch you open again and again. 

“Come here,” He reaches up for you, tugging you down by your neck to get you close and you can feel him suddenly reposition and change the angle, take back control as he pins you to his chest and pumps his hips. 

The way his cock punches into you, curved and pressing directly into your g-spot, makes you choke out a moan and dig your nails into his chest. 

“Say you love my cock,” He pants suddenly in your ear, “if it feels so good, say it, tell me,” 

You moan sharply, “I fucking love your cock,” 

“Fuck yes,” His hand claps down on your ass and grips you tight as his hips piston upwards. 

“Ah, ah,” Your legs are trembling again, “I can’t,” 

“Yes, you can,” He pants, “I want to feel you come on my cock, babygirl, squeeze me,” 

Your eyes slam shut. 

“So fucking tight,” He breathes, “so wet,” 

“For you,” You choke out and hips stutter. 

“Oh, f-fuck,” He pushes up hard, but instead of thrusting he locks his hips there with your bodies pressed flush together and at the sound of his sudden moan, the way his hands lock tight on your body, the way warmth floods your belly, you know he’s coming. 

Your brain somersaults and you rock your hips, trying to keep catching the friction against your clit to help push you over the edge, “Ah,” you whine, “no, please,”  

He doesn’t go anywhere though, he just presses his hips up to keep giving you the pressure you need and holds your hips down with his broad hands, and you hear him hiss at the overstimulation but he groans and manages, “Come baby, you’re so close, there you go, there you go,” 

You’re saying something, but you can’t really hear it. All you can feel is the bubble about to burst inside you as you drag yourself fast and frantic against his body. You’re needy and seconds away, falling into trembles again.

  “So beautiful,” He mumbles, dragging your mouth up to his and locking you in a heady kiss. 

“Cheol!” You squeak against him, body cracking apart into shakes as you come, probably louder than you wanted to as you fall into the sweet space between his neck and shoulder. 

“I’ve got you,” His softening cock slides out as you come, but he slides a hand between your thighs and rubs fast circles on your swollen clit, “fuck, look at you, god, you’re such a mess,” 

Your brain is dizzy as he talks you through the edges of your orgasm. 

“So wet,” He bites down softly on your shoulder, “soaked for me and full of my cum, fuck,” 

As you collapse on his chest, your orgasm receding, his hand slows, but his fingers stay slipped between your folds in the messy mixture of your slick wetness and his release. You are a mess, but he seems to like it and if you’re benign honest so do you. 

“I’m so,” You breathe out, shaky and exhausted, “god, I don’t know,” 

“Mhm,” He sighs, and finally he slides his fingers out of you to rest on your hip, his other hand stroking a line up and down your back while you recover together. 

You need to get up, run to the bathroom and get the shower started, but you’re boneless and floating and he’s just the perfect temperature, so for a little while you don’t move. 

When he shifts his hips under yours to readjust your eyes pop open and you start to move, “Am I hurting you?” 

“Shh,” He wraps his arms around you and gathers you tight to his chest, “don’t you dare go anywhere,” 

“Yeah?” 

“You’re perfect,” He repeats and you smile against his skin, “next time I want you sitting on my face,” 

You laugh against him, “Next time?” 

He’s quiet, his fingers still dragging up and down your spine, “If you want,” 

You shift up in his arms, settling on his chest so that you can see his face, “So much,” 

He cups your cheek, brushing his thumb along your face, as he smiles, “I missed you, you know,” 

Tears prick at the back of your eyes and your throat goes thick, and you don’t trust your voice but you nod and press your lips to his, “I missed you too, all the time,” 

He gives you a moment, just staying calm and kind with his hands, and then he leans up to capture your lips once more, this kiss so much softer and more familiar from the frantic emotion a few minutes ago. His kisses travel from your lips to your forehead and then he smooths back the tangled mess of your hair, “We should get cleaned up,” he murmurs, “how are you feeling?” 

“Like I might not ever walk again,” You joke wryly. 

“I didn't hurt you, did I?” He leans to look you over, “I got a little carried away,” 

You shake your head, “No, I’m perfect, I promise,” 

“We didn’t talk much beforehand,” He notes, brushing his palm over the swell of your hip, dipping at your hip crease, and tracing up over again at the curve of your thigh, “I just want to be sure you’re feeling okay with everything,” 

“I’d tell you if I wasn’t,” You press, “you know I would,” 

“Good,” He sighs. 

You stretch on top of him, your knees aching from your curled position and you smile, “You want to get a shower? We can share the hot water,” 

“You’re insatiable,” He quirks an eyebrow at you. 

“Not for sex,” You slap his chest lightly as you climb off him, wincing at the sudden stretch of your knees, “I can barely move,” 

“I like a challenge,” He sighs, rolling off the chaise and stretching long and you catch yourself watching the strong flex of his back, the cut of his shoulders, the curve of his ass and his muscular thighs. 

Maybe you could rally. 

Seungcheol turns and his eyes flick over your body too, “Yeah,” he nods, “I think I can get one more out of you,” 

“My shower is shockingly small, so,” You reach for him, guiding him down the hall with you, “we’ll see,” 

“I said I like a challenge,” He shrugs, and all of a sudden you can’t stop laughing. 

Your shower is small, but in the end it doesn’t matter. Seungcheol ends up crouched on his knees anyways, with one of your legs hitched over his shoulder while he takes his sweet time with his tongue bringing you up to your softest, easiest orgasm of the night. You trade lazy kisses in the warmth after, the suds long gone and your fingers pruned by the time you fall into bed. 

You don’t have to ask him to stay, he just does. You talk for as long as you can keep your eyes open, stories of years ago when you saw him almost every single day. You whisper late into the night, until finally he falls asleep first, his head lolled to the side, but his hand still wrapped tightly around yours. 

You tumble into sleep right alongside him, his skin smelling of sweet peach and nectarine. 

In the morning, you wake up to something cold suddenly pressed to your cheek and you start to stitch together the world around you in quick threads. 

“Kkuma,” Seungcheol’s voice reaches you first, a hushed whisper as he tries to get his dog’s attention, “come here girl, let her sleep,” 

You groan a little, and you realize the something cold was Kkuma’s very wet nose against your cheek. Instead of listening to Seungcheol, she presses her nose to you again and follows it up with a lick, her panting excitement pushing you from laying on your side to your back as she collapses over your chest. 

“Kkuma!” He exclaims quietly, “down girl!”

Your eyes start to pop open, and this time you see his dog’s fluffy white face inches from your own, delighted that you’re awake. 

“Kkuma,” He tries to drop his voice to a lower tone to get her attention. 

“It’s okay,” You yawn, reaching up to scratch Kkuma behind the ears, “I’m awake now,” 

“I’m sorry,” Seungcheol moves into your bedroom, and you can see he’s fully dressed and has been for some time, “I didn’t think she would just jump on you like that,” 

Your brain is still a little sluggish and you rub your hand over your face, “Did you go home?”

He grins and nods at your sleepy question, the answer obvious from the dog on your chest, “Yeah, I needed to run home and take her for a walk, I hope you don’t mind I let myself back in,” 

“Not at all,” You smile up at him, “I’m just sad you’re not in the cuddle pile,” 

“We can fix that,” He tosses his beanie on your nightstand and then holds up a little carrier containing two coffees and a few little pastry bags, “and I bring gifts,” 

“From that place by your apartment?” You brighten, recognizing the stamped logos on the cups. 

“Mhm,” He passes over your cup, “sugar, no cream,” 

“You remembered,” You push yourself up in bed, Kkuma adjusting herself to snuggle into your side, and accept the cup, “thank you,” 

He lays his heavy denim jacket on the chair by your dresser and slips back into bed with you, dragging the covers back over both your legs, “Of course, I did, not that much could have changed in a year, right?” 

“Mm-mm,” Your legs slide together as you tuck under his arm and settle back into his chest. 

His fingers play with the ends of your hair while he sips his coffee, and then he sighs, “y/n,” 

Your stomach freezes and you wonder if you’re about to get let down easy. If waking up in the morning cleared his head, if a text from Mingyu changed his mind, if on the trip back to his place he worked out the right way to break your heart, if he practiced it out loud in his car with the dog. 

“What’s up?” You say, hoping you sound far more casual than you feel. 

“About Gyu,” He exhales heavy, his coffee leaning against his thigh as he gathers his words, “listen,” 

“Don’t,” You murmur, pressing your eyes closed, “please don’t go,”

“Go?” He asks. 

“I’ll tell him, and I know he’ll be fine after the shock wears off,” You twist in the bed to look up at him, “please just stay, last night was… Cheol, please just think about this,” 

His brows knit together tight in confusion and he sets his coffee on your bedside table to free up his hand and brush it along your cheek, “I was going to say, about Gyu, I’m meeting him for lunch at two. I’d like to tell him about us today,” 

“You what,” You blink. 

“I’d like to tell him that I picked you up after your date,” He says, “and that we got to talking, and that we kissed,” 

You can almost see Mingyu’s wide puppy eyes as he realizes where the story is going to go. 

“And that I asked you out on a date,” Seungcheol finishes, “and he’s going to ask me a lot of other questions which I definitely am not going to answer, except one thing,” 

You swallow nervously, your coffee almost tipping to the side forgotten in your hands until he plucks it up and sets it to the side. 

“He’s going to ask me if I’m serious about you,” He says calmly, like you’ve discussed this before, “and I’m going to say yes, but that’s the kind of thing you should know before your brother does.”

“You’re serious about me,” You say it back, your heart picking up as the words come off your tongue. 

“Yes,” He nods, unequivocal, “and I hope you feel the same way because before I drive across town and tell my best friend I’m in love with his sister, I just need to know if you feel even a tenth of that,” 

Your heart should be pounding, your stomach fluttering, your body flooding with emotion at the casual confession, but all you feel is calm. Mingyu told you once that life would fall into place, you just never thought you’d have that realization while it was happening around you. 

You try to keep a straight face when you say, “There’s only one problem,” 

“Okay,” He says, but you watch his hand fidget in his lap. 

“You never actually asked me out on a date,” You point out with a smile, “and I don’t want to lie to Mingyu about anything,” 

He grins, his tongue dragging against one side of his teeth as he shakes his head in disbelief, “You’re right,” he says, “that’s my mistake, will you go out with me?” 

“I’d love to,” You lean into him so you can press a quick kiss to his lips and take his hand in yours, lacing his anxiously twitching fingers with yours to hold him steady, “and if Gyu gives you any lip about this,” you kiss him again, “tell him I’m in love with his best friend,” 

“You are?” His fingers tighten on your hand. 

“Mhm,” You suddenly can’t keep your lips away from his, “and you tell him that if he does anything to ruin this, that I’ll make him sorry,” 

“Now that,” He laughs, “that I believe,” 

You pull him down to you and your body without another word, and with a hushed apology he pushes Kkuma off the bed so he can splay you out in the middle of the mattress. He takes you fast, hurried and full of need now that you have so much time ahead of you for slow. For now, you have a lot of catching up to do.

When you finally make it out of bed the coffee is cold and Seungcheol is late for lunch. 

[screampied]

Servant who is in love with Sukuna and he finally gives her a "taste" of himself, but then she cums quickly and without permission and gets punished to overstimulation 😭 drabble or fic I'd be very happy either way

❤︎ ໋𓈒 sukuna punishing his favorite servant

warnings. fem! reader, size kink, spit, cowgirl, impact play, degredation, mdni.

“hmph. woman. come here,” he’d say in a gruff voice, two simple words and he had you at your very mercy. as you trod your feet towards him, the last thing you expected was for sukuna to give you a kiss. the kiss was passionate with such roughness attached to it, you moaned before feeling the king’s hand wrap around your throat. he was always so handsy too, especially with you. sukuna was merely fooling around, yet as for you, you were deeply in love with him.

stupid, perhaps. but you craved his attention.

it’d be simplistic things like that, it always started with a kiss. a kiss that never failed to leave you speechlessly dumbfounded.

his taste, you were entirely obsessed with it. a sweetness that forever lingered off his tongue. you couldn’t describe it into words, but it was purely appetizing.

as of currently though, you’d be sat on his lap whilst he’s manspread on his throne. it was awfully quiet, just the two of you.

you’re hovering over his hardened length before breathing in a single breath. “sukuna,” you’d pout, and he’s just blankly staring at you coldly—an unreadable expression, although he found your consistent pouting to be oddly amusing. humans were so fascinating to him. “can i touch myself now?”

“little girl,” he tsks, a hand going around your hip. your breathing hitches from his touch before you’re just hovering barely over his leaky tip now. “it’s sir to you. and what did i tell you about asking stupid questions, hm?”

“but ‘kuna,” you’d frown, and he loathed hearing you have the audacity to shorten his name. he told you to address him as something otherwise, and you completely steered clear from it.

quite the brat you were.

stupid stupid stupid…

but he secretly loved it, only you could get away with something like that. anyone else with the balls would find themselves practically dead. perhaps sukuna has somewhat of a soft spot for his servant, but of course he’d never mention that to you, not in a million years.

“but nothing,” he snarls, and you moan once you start to slowly sink yourself down into his length. so thick, you already started to feel your salivating. sukuna brings a hand to grip your chin, and he makes you stare right into his eyes. “touching is deserved. you gotta deserve it, get it?”

“no,” you grumble, and he smirks.

“well boo hoo, too fuckin’ bad,” he speaks in a raspy tone, and his words alone were enough to have you sopping wet.

it was embarrassing, you were embarrassing…

you didn’t care though, your arms wrap around his neck before you start to gradually grind yourself against him. his shaft stood tall, and for a split second you could feel him pulsate the further he deepens himself into you. your walls grip him tightly like a vice, and it makes him poke a tongue into his hollow cheek.

“mhmm,” he groans, the utter feeling of your cunt swallowing him whole always gets to him.

forever entangled with your warmth, you spot his fangs poke out with his maw slightly opened and it’s cute. you could just about make out a dimple or two on the king’s face. “don’t look at me, move your hips ‘n make yourself u-useful.”

a stutter, you merely giggle but you didn’t wanna test your luck. at least not just yet.

cruel darkened irises stare into yours the entire time, and it takes a good moment until you’re finally in. it makes him gnaw on his lip at how warm you were from the inside. already soaked and ready for him, he leans further back against the material of his throne before grunting.

“…move,” he sighs, gifting your ass with a mean abrupt spank. “you wanted to ride me so ride me, girl.”

you quavered, feeling your cunt twitch and spasm all from the way he sank into you.

it was so lewd, you buried your face into his neck and he just rolls his eyes before an awkward hand pats your head.

“s-so biiiig,” you’d whimper out, and whilst he’s going even further by filling you full of such thick sultry inches, you whine. the feeling of being split in two with your wetness—your love cave that had him addicted made you let off the sweetest gasp. he’s resuming to bury himself into you, and the minute you create up a swift tempo—your knees were ready to just about buckle.

it’s entirely cute, you felt him twitch from the inside and you couldn’t help but slump further into his broad chest.

sukuna snickers at your … interesting durability so to speak.

all the way in and not even moments later—you were fairly worn out. just about. “awh. tapping out on me already i see?” he purrs in a sly tone, a teasing gesture of his hand runs down your back. “and you were so confident earlier too. oh, how disappointing..”

“n—no, i can take you,” you mumble with glossy lips, and his touch against your skin made you let off repetitive soft spoken moans. a thumb of his strokes against the corners of your waist as you rutted yourself back and forth. your rhythm was purely hypnotic, entirely so that it makes him groan for a bit.

his fat tip prods against your slick outer labia and it runs against your entrance. he likes to do a certain motion—pulling out, only to stuff you right back full, he wants you to feel it. feel him and all of his inches, his girth that consumes into your cunt. as he’s stuffing you so full, you can’t help but drool a bit. a bit as in a lot. sukuna’s eyes linger towards you for a long time before he grips your chin once more.

“can you really…?” he hums, and it’s as if he’s challenging you. “or are you just saying that?”

you glare and he only returns with a subtle smirk, he liked getting under your skin. it was his favorite pastime, irking those cute nerves of yours. from the inside, he couldn’t get over how soft you were. such warm walls hugging all around him so tightly, it felt natural. your sopping wet cunt grips against him time and time again—squelch after squelch that it sounds like a melodic harmony.

a lewd melodic harmony.

he watches as your lips part, and you’re struggling to conceal those moans. you whimper from each thrust that it’s got your thighs growing numb in no time.

“f-fuckkk,” you’d whine, feeling sukuna’s cock briefly pull back from your wet folds. whenever he did that, it felt so good…. too good. sukuna’s hefty base thwacked against you in the process too, on loop, a constant salacious repeat. it had you dizzy, you’re grinding and swiveling your hips at such a hectic pace that you can’t even stop yourself. your mouth felt dry, just being sweetly stretched over nothing but a mere squeezing muscle from the inside.

it’s so hot tempered, your warmth had him kissing his teeth in such arousal, such pleasure.

“sukunaaa,” you’d whine once his dick runs against the corners of your inner walls, all throughout your canal. he reaches everywhere, he’s lengthy too, so there’s not a single spot that he misses. he slides in and out, and his base was so fat and thick, so full that it just mimics your movements of being hit against. “i— i’m gonna,” and you abruptly get cut off with a rough kiss.

your moans slither its way into his mouth as your hands ran down his ripped chest, feeling against his tatted body. the battle scars that perfectly painted his broad figure like a canvas, you return the kiss before he precipitously pulls away. a glossed string of spit departs, and sukuna glares at you. “wait, girl.”

and it sounds more like a warning than anything.

his tone being hidden with such baritone underneath it, you were even more soaked. whenever he pitched his tone to show his dominance like that, his authority—you felt yourself pulse for the umpteenth time.

he tells you to wait, but instead you do the exact opposite.

you don’t even realize you came all on his cock until he’s greeting you with the most livid glare imaginable—still, sukuna grabs your hips before muttering. “did you just cum? and don’t lie to me, woman.”

if you aren’t twitching as much as you were before, you certainly were now. the air felt thick, and whilst you straddled him, you shyly reply with a mumbling, “…sorry.”

you don’t mean to giggle after that…

but you do—the soft smile that curls against your lips meets his gaze and sukuna suddenly makes himself pull out. “so funny, huh?” and you’re taken by surprise the moment he makes you part your legs. his right thigh goes between your legs from underneath and you moan once he spanks you. “some fuckin’ audacity you have. ain’t no one told you to finish,” and he grips your chin, giving it a squeeze. “look at me when i speak to you, woman.”

he was so close you could just kiss him. your lashes were half-lidded, and you were so drawn into him that you don’t even realize that he’s shoved two fingers into your cunt. you moaned at how easily it goes in. he swirls his digits inside just briefly, taking it out before bringing it towards your mouth. “open your mouth ‘n stick out your tongue, brat.”

you were amused, aroused too but surely amused.

without question, you loll out your tongue in front of him, only for sukuna to shove his fingers right down your throat. you moan at the candied taste of yourself, so sweet. he remains with a glare on his face as you lapped up his fingers clean, you weren’t supposed to be enjoying that.

“such a disobedient girl,” he huffs, and that’s when he pulls out his fingers, a sheen stringy coat of your own saliva dribbles down your chin before he smears it all over your mouth.

“since you wanna be a impatient whore, that’s all the taste you’ll be getting today. ‘m expecting a thank you, little girl. go on, i’ll wait.”