#fic: hideaway

[minisugakoobies]

Hideaway | KHJ

Pairing: Hongjoong x Gender Neutral Reader (AFAB) Genre: smut, crack, strangers to lovers, Frat Bro!AU Rating: M (18+) Warnings: smoking/edibles, stoner!hongjoong agenda, woosan side pairing, oral fixation (as in the author reader is obsessed with joong's mouth), to be fair it's a very filthy mouth, dry humping, biting/marking, tit pinching/sucking, fingering, hongjoong goes downtown & eats it like a vulture, aka cunnilingus, wet & messy, cum eating, a tiny bit of exhibitionism, accidental voyeurism Word Count: 7.1K Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own ATZ - they just inspire me

Summary: When your friend keeps dragging you to frat parties, all you want to do is find a place to hide and get high. You definitely don't expect to meet a man with a devilish smile and an even more wicked tongue.

A/N: Hello I'm back with more Ateez! This one's a very self-indulgent fic about getting high with Hongjoong. It all stemmed from discussions with @kiestrokes about what a gorgeous mouth Joong has 🥴 Lokie, I hope you enjoy what you've wrought 😜💕

Unbeta'd as usual. Like this fic? Want me to keep writing Ateez? Please let me know!

ATZ Masterlist 🍃 Main Masterlist

One hour. That’s all San asked of you. Go to a party with him for one hour, because his crush was going to be there, and he needed your support. As his best friend and roommate, how could you say no? 

Two hours into the party, you’re wishing you’d put your foot down. You’re worn out from art studio this week, where it had been your turn to face group critique. Honestly, after that experience, you really don’t want to be around other people for a while. You long to crash on your couch with a stash of junk food and video games and not move until class on Monday. Instead, you’re holding up a wall in a frat house, watching your best friend dance with Wooyoung, the Alpha Tau Zeta brother who’d caught San’s eye. 

You’re happy for San, truly, but a bit surprised at how quickly things escalated from “OMG he’s so cute, do you think he’d dance with me?” to Wooyoung climbing your friend like the mountain he is. San looks completely lovestruck as the other man wraps his arms around his shoulders, and you sigh, resigned to your fate. 

San had promised that you’d leave together, saying he’d treat you to your favorite waffles at your favorite diner after the party, and you’d agreed, but now that means you’re stuck here for god knows how much longer. You could find him and tell him you changed your mind and you’re gonna go. He’d say okay, but he’d say it with that pout of his, and as long as you’ve known San, that pout has owned your weak ass, so there’s really no point. You’ll just wait.

However, hovering like a third wheel isn’t your idea of a good time, so you decide to find somewhere else to hang out. The room is packed with couples grinding, and you weave around them carefully, trying to avoid the beer sloshing about as a girl beside you really puts her back into it. The kitchen is just as cramped as the living room, a beer pong match taking up most of the space, so you keep wandering, until you come to the foyer, where there’s a staircase to the second floor. Wanting to put as much distance between yourself and the loud music, you start to climb. 

It’s much less crowded upstairs. There are a few people scattered along the hallway, talking in small groups, or heading into the bedrooms, all of which have closed doors. You’re a little afraid of what you might walk in on if you open one, so you keep moving, hoping to find a quiet spot to sit and hide. 

Instead, as you round a corner, you come to a dead end. But to your left, there’s a window that’s cracked ajar, night breeze just teasing you with enticing coolness after the rank humidity of the dance floor. You press your palms to the glass, peeking out. It looks like the window opens onto the roof of the back porch. 

Gently, you lift the sash until you can stick your head out. The roof is flat, not sloped. It’s fairly dark, with only the moon above and the string lights crisscrossing the yard providing a pale glow. And, most blessedly, it is devoid of other people.

As quickly as you can, you shimmy out the window.

The backyard is dotted with kiddie pools still full of jello from the last wrestling tournament. In between the pools, the ground is a squishy mess of colorful gelatin and disgusting mud, which means that there are very few partygoers outside right now, besides a handful that you can hear beneath you, hanging out on the porch. But they can’t see you, so you can live with that. 

Settling with your back pressed to the brick wall, you take a deep breath, relaxing. Even though it’s so late in the fall that the weather is already flirting with winter, it’s a nice night to be outside. The air is crisp, but you’re plenty warm in your sweater and jeans, toes tapping idly inside your boots. The moon plays hide and seek behind some passing clouds while you observe contentedly.

“No one’s supposed to be out here.” 

“Fuck!” You jump, so surprised to hear someone address you. The voice came from the shadows of the opposite corner of the roof, where another window mirrors the one you came through. 

There’s a short burst of laughter, and then someone leans into the light. 

Reddish-orange hair hangs over a dark brow, above eyes scrunched nearly closed in glee, further expressed by a full bottom lip twisting upwards in a smirk. As you will your racing heart to ease off, a guy you’ve never seen before carefully steps across the roof. He’s wearing an oversized t-shirt over a long-sleeved striped shirt and jeans. His shirt doesn’t have any letters on it, but he must be a brother here if he’s trying to tell you what to do. 

He’s almost unfairly gorgeous, this stranger who scared you nearly to death, and he’s laughing at you.

You attempt to recover your cool, leaning back against the wall again. “I didn’t see a sign.”

“It’s kind of unsaid.”

“Well, it kind of needs to be said,” you shoot back a little snappily, annoyed that your peace has been shattered. “You’re out here, too, you know.” 

“I live here.” 

“So that’s fine, then?” 

He grins, a wicked thing that has your neck flaming with sudden heat, and slides further out of the darkness, until he’s about an arms-length away. “Ok if I sit here?” 

“I mean, if unspoken rules don’t stop you, what’s me literally saying ‘no’ gonna do?” 

Another quick ratatat of laughter. “You’re funny.” He drops down beside you, tipping his head back to rest against the wall. 

You don’t say anything to his comment, waiting for him to say something else. Like explain why he’s out here or who he is to tell you where you can’t be or anything. A minute passes, then another. You hear the people on the porch heading back into the party and then there’s only the dull thumping of the music inside and the sound of the crickets chirping in the yard. 

You wonder if you should say something to the stranger, maybe explain why you’re out here, but he seems pretty content to sit quietly, and if he’s happy to remain silent, so are you. He doesn’t seem like he’s going to actually kick you off the roof, so you release the tension in your shoulders, inhaling deeply again, and match his pose, staring up at the sky. 

The wind stirs, brushing your cheek with gentle fingers.

“Not into parties?” 

You glance over when he finally speaks. His profile is striking - sharp jawline, straight nose with just the slightest upturn. It makes you wish you had your sketchbook with you. He’d make a lovely model right now, pretty face lit by the soft luminescence of the moon. 

“It’s not that. Just been a long week. I was planning on a quiet night in. But my roommate had other ideas.” 

“And now you’re stuck here, waiting for them?” 

You nod. The stranger hums. 

“Yeah, I can sympathize. Kinda hard to have a quiet night here, like… all the time.” 

It’s your turn to hum. “But… did you not know what you were signing up for when you joined a fraternity?” 

He laughs again. You’re starting to really like the sound. “Do I need to remind you that you’re not supposed to be out here?”

“Do I need to remind you?” 

“Fair.” 

Another comfortable silence. This is your type of stranger - one who respects the sanctity of quiet moments. After a few more minutes, you decide, fuck it, and reach into your crossbody, pulling out your vape pen. You’re not going to get high high while you wait for San, not the way you had planned to do if you were at home melding with the couch, but you can at least take the edge off. 

But before you do, you hold the pen out to the stranger. “Want a hit?” 

He raises an eyebrow, nods.  

Your gaze lingers maybe a few seconds too long as his lips wrap around the mouthpiece, drawing the smoke into his lungs and holding it there for a few seconds. He hands the pen back with an exhaled thanks. 

You take your turn, tipping your face up to momentarily blot out the stars with smoke. The light cherry flavor hangs on your tongue while you hand the pen back over without asking. The stranger takes another lungful.

“So… do you have a name?” 

“Of course I do,” you reply. Dumb questions get dumb answers. “Do you?”

His lips curl into a bright smile. “I do.” 

Another pass. You check your phone, just to make sure San hasn’t sent you any messages. He hasn’t. He’s probably affixed to Wooyoung’s gorgeous face by now.

“Hongjoong,” the stranger says after another inhale. “I’m Hongjoong.” 

“Nice to meet you, Hongjoong. Thanks for not throwing me off your roof.” 

“Thanks for the tokes.” 

He grins at you again, full teeth, and you can’t help but beam back. He really is rather cute - 

“Hongjoong! Are you out here again?”

One of the brothers you’d seen playing pong earlier has his head out the window behind Hongjoong. 

“Yeah, I’m here. What’s up, ‘Hwa?” 

The other man looks past Hongjoong, squinting into the darkness. “Is someone out there with you? You know no one’s suppo-”

“Seonghwa. What do you need?” Hongjoong’s tone shifts, becoming a little authoritative. 

“You better get in here. Mingi’s trying to get everyone to go streaking again.” 

“So?” Your pen is still in Hongjoong’s hand, heading to his lips as he takes another puff. “He’s always trying to do that. No one ever agrees.” 

“So, I guess he thought the best way to convince everyone was by going first. He’s currently doing naked laps around the beer pong table.” Seonghwa frowns. “It’s really throwing off my game.” 

Hongjoong sighs, an exceptionally weary sound. Rising to his feet, he brushes off his jeans. “I better go put a stop to that.” He glances down at you. “If anyone tries to kick you off here, just tell them I said you have my permission.” 

“And I need that?” 

The smirk returns. And then he has the audacity to wink. Before you can catch your breath, he’s climbing back through the window. 

Silence envelops you again. You lift your pen to your lips one more time before tucking it away. 

The minutes tick by.

When the clouds drifting across the stars start to look like tantalizing wisps of cotton candy, seemingly close enough that you could reach out and grab some, your stomach lets out a growl. Maybe you should go grab San away and tell him it’s time to bounce. You’ve done your time. There’s a perfectly golden waffle just waiting for you to drown with syrup at the diner. 

Besides, you can’t wait out here all night for cute boys who may or may not return. As much as you might want to. 

“Again?” 

Two weeks have come and gone since San dragged you to ATZ. And now here he is, knocking on your bedroom door and giving you his best puppy dog eyes as he informs you that Wooyoung’s invited him to another party tonight. 

“Do you really need me to go? I thought you guys were hitting it off.” The two of them had been exchanging texts like crazy, and had gone on a date last weekend. You hadn’t seen your best friend this giddy in ages. 

“We are. He’s amazing,” San sighs, a faraway look in his eyes. “But I need you there so I have a reason to leave. I don’t want him to think I’m easy.” 

You try, you really, really do, but you can’t stop the laughter that bursts out of you. San has proudly called himself a slut on more than one occasion. In the three years you’ve been besties, you’ve never known him to deny himself some dick. 

“Stop laughing!” San puffs his bottom lip. “I’m serious. I really like him, and I want to take it slow.”

“That’s so sweet,” you coo, pinching his cheeks. He ducks his head with a tiny “aish,” but you know he’s not mad. “But why can’t you just make up a reason not to stay?”

The pout returns. “Because he’s hot and I’m weak. Please, help me out?” 

Sighing, you cross your arms. He’s not the only one without a backbone. “Maybe. What’s in it for me?” 

“I knew you’d ask that.” With a grin, he holds out a small ziploc baggie. “Here.” He tosses it your way. 

It’s a brownie. You grin. “Oh honey, you baked!” 

San returns your smile. “The batch came out a bit stronger than usual, so that’s why it’s just a little square. Half of that is probably enough for you. But if you go with me tonight, I’ll let you have the rest of the pan.” 

And just like that, you find yourself at another party packed full of people. This time, the beer pong table has been replaced with a giant ice luge, with coeds lining up to take their turns slurping jungle juice off the frozen display. You give the luge a wide berth, not wanting the sticky liquid to splash the boots you’re wearing. All the seats in the living room are occupied, and dancers are taking up all the open space left, so again you head upstairs.

Unlike the last time you were here, the roof does not provide you an escape, thanks to the chilly autumn rain that simply won’t let up tonight. It’s like the universe doesn’t want you pulling a Houdini this time. At least you have your brownie with you. You just need to find somewhere to enjoy it while you wait for San. 

The doors to all the rooms on the second floor are closed, so you keep moving, climbing up to the third floor. No one’s in the hallway up here, and there’s a room with the door wide open, so you peek your head in. 

Rows of books line shelves built into the two of the walls, The third has a fireplace, unlit, with photos of the fraternity brothers hanging above the mantle. There’s a rather nice overstuffed couch and a pair of high-backed chairs facing the fireplace. 

“These frat boys live like kings,” you murmur to yourself, creeping forward to examine the portraits. Your eye is immediately drawn to one in particular, a redheaded man with a bright smile, whose photo bears the title “President.” 

“I’m having the strangest sense of déjà vu,” a voice suddenly declares. 

Whirling, you find the same man watching you from the doorway. Tonight, he’s wearing a white shirt decorated with big red hearts, unbuttoned halfway down his chest, and a pair of tight jeans. And that sexy smirk of his. 

You frown, clutching your racing heart. “Do you enjoy sneaking up on people like that?”

“Only when they’re somewhere they shouldn’t be.” Hongjoong taps a sign on the door, which declares in extremely big, bold font: ATZ ONLY - KEEP OUT. “It’s clearly stated that this room is off limits. So what’s your excuse tonight?” Though his words are sharp, the gleam in his eye is playful.

Your lips twitch. “That sign probably would’ve worked better if the door had been closed.” You give him an appraising look. “Shouldn’t you be downstairs making sure your brothers keep their clothes on or whatever?” 

While he huffs in amusement, you wander over to one of the walls of books, running your fingers along their spines. They’re all labeled with a year. Grabbing last year’s, you let it fall open to a random page of photos. Wow, some of the brothers appear to be really allergic to shirts - 

Hongjoong snatches the album from your hands, closing it with a snap. “That’s private,” he informs you, slipping the book back into its slot. “And don’t try to change the subject. No one’s allowed in here but myself and my brothers. So come on.” He jerks his head towards the door. 

“Counteroffer,” you say, producing your brownie from your bag. 

Hongjoong pauses with his hand on the doorknob. “What is that?” 

“A brownie.” 

His eyes narrow a little. “Would you say there’s anything special about that brownie?” 

You nod. Hongjoong glances out into the hallway. Then he closes the door. 

“You’re awfully easy to bribe,” you inform him as the two of you settle on the couch, you in one corner, him taking the spot next to you. Carefully, you pull the brownie apart, handing him half. 

“Don’t tell anyone. Can’t have my reputation getting ruined.” He holds his half up. “Cheers.” 

“Cheers,” you giggle, tapping your half against his before taking a bite. 

Hongjoong devours his brownie in mere seconds. A bit of chocolate clings to his lower lip, his tongue flicking out to capture it, and you force yourself to focus on the remainder of your half, so you’re not just sitting there staring openly at his pretty mouth, as much as you’d like to. 

“So, is this your thing? Going to parties just to hide and get high?” 

“Ha, no. Not normally. But my roommate keeps insisting that I come with him.” 

“And where is your roommate now?”

You snort, licking crumbs from your fingertips. “Probably suctioned to Wooyoung’s face.” 

Hongjoong laughs. “Ah, you’re friends with San? He seems like a great guy, from what Woo’s told us.” 

“Woo talks about him?” You can’t wait to tell San. You can hear his bashful giggles now. 

“Yeah. He won’t shut up about him, actually. It’s nice, but it’s also annoying as fuck.” Hongjoong winces. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be so blunt.” 

“No, it’s fine, I get it. I love San, but I can only take so much puppy love before I get nauseous.” 

“Exactly.” Hongjoong grins. He sinks down further into the couch, legs spreading open as he gets more comfortable. 

The two of you are quiet for a moment, long enough for your brain to start asking questions. Is he planning on staying here with you? You’d kinda figured he’d eat the brownie and then go. Shouldn’t he be down at the party, if he’s the president of the frat? 

“You know, you don’t have to babysit me. I’m not gonna do anything in here but melt into the couch for a little while.” 

Hongjoong shrugs. His left hand plays in the rip above the knee in his jeans. “It’s not that I’m afraid you’re gonna do something. It’s just…” he trails off for a few seconds, lost in thought. “I’m not in a party mood tonight. You might not have been trying to hide, but I was.”  

“Oh. Shit. Do you - would you rather that I leave, so you can be alone?” 

He shakes his head. “Nah, you can stay. If you want to. I don’t mind your company.” 

“Oh,” you say again, in surprise. Something flutters in your chest when he looks at you. “Okay.” 

Hongjoong’s fingers return to the tear in his jeans, picking at the strings. “So… do I get to learn your name tonight?”

Oh, right. You’d never actually introduced yourself on the roof. 

He peers at you, clearly waiting for your answer, and the flutter gets stronger. What is it about his gaze that makes you want to tease him? 

“I don’t know,” you sigh, tilting your head as you look at him. “Have you earned it?” 

His eyebrow quirks slightly. “Didn’t know I had to.” 

You merely shrug, biting back a grin. He focuses on the wall opposite the couch, mulling over your words, while you sit beside him, primly arranging your skirt over your tights-covered thighs. The couch is ridiculously cushy and you’re already starting to relax into it. 

“If you won’t tell me, I’ll just go downstairs and find San,” he says after a moment. 

“That’s cheating!”

“Oh, does that upset the rule breaker?” He clutches his chest in mock horror, grinning when you laugh. “Excuse the fuck out of me.” 

“I’m not a rule breaker. I just…” you falter for an explanation.

“Don’t care for parties and prefer pot over people.” 

Hongjoong cracks up at the face you make in response to his too correct reading of you. 

“You’re doing a terrible job of earning my name, just for your information,” you sniff, but when he laughs harder, bumping his shoulder into yours, you cave, giggling. He doesn’t move away when the laughter tapers off.

You make a little small talk. The usual stuff - what’s your major, where are you from, etc. He’s a music production major and apparently spends all his time in the studio, on the opposite side of campus from where your art studio is located. No wonder you’ve never seen him around before. 

Eventually the room falls silent again. If it weren’t for the thumping coming through the floor, you could almost forget there are other people in the house. You let your eyes fall shut for a moment, ears straining to make out the music drifting from the first floor. It’s only the drums and bass that you can catch, something pulsating and rhythmic. Hypnotic, lulling you further into relaxation. 

That’s when you feel it. That telltale body buzz that starts in your feet and spreads all over. Your thoughts become a little floaty, each one drifting away before you can really grasp them, and you turn to Hongjoong. 

“I think I found the drugs,” you giggle. 

Hongjoong lets out a single “ha” from deep in his chest, and then he hums. You let your head fall back against the couch and close your eyes.

“Oh shit, there they are,” you hear Hongjoong say, with another laugh, and you start to giggle again, and when you look at him, he’s watching you, and you wonder what it would be like to kiss him right now, with his face so close to yours. His lips look very kissable, meant to be nibbled and sucked. You long to, biting your own lip as you fantasize about his taste.  

Hongjoong sighs. “Damn, I feel good. Thank you. You’re officially my favorite trespasser.”

“Is that a long list?” 

His grin widens. “Longer than you’d think.” His eyelids lower a little as he leans closer. The air feels like it’s heating up around you now. Your skin tingles from your high, and it only increases when Hongjoong’s fingers cup your chin. “Can I kiss you?”

“Why?” is what flies out of your mouth in surprise, even though you’re dying to feel his lips on yours.

“Because I like kissing pretty people when I’m high.” 

Heat pools in your belly, and you shift on the couch, reaching for him. As your fingers twist in his shirt, your mouths connect. It’s a slow, wet kiss, tongues warm against each other, rolling over and around. Messy, but neither of you care, both lost in the sensation. 

When his arms wrap around your back, you slip into his lap, straddling his thighs. His head tilts up to greedily chase your mouth, and you tug his bottom lip with your teeth, shivering at the way he groans. His fingers dig into your shoulder blades as he pulls you down on top of him, so there’s no distance between you, just clothing and heat between you.  

Hongjoong nudges your face with his, getting you to turn your head so he can nibble on your earlobe. His hands fondle your ass beneath your skirt, grabbing and pinching the ample flesh through your tights, while his mouth ripples down your cheek and neck, covering your skin in soft kisses, before finding your lips again. 

It’s been too long since you’ve made out with someone like this. The last few people you kissed with all treated it like an annoying chore, something perfunctory that had to be performed in order to get what they really wanted. Hongjoong holds you like you’re something to be slowly explored, something to be savored, not just used. 

“Feeling good?” He leans back for a second, brushing his hair out of his eyes as he peers at you. His face is flushed, lips darkened from your nipping, and the rather fucked out sight of him has you clutching at his shoulders, desperately pulling his mouth back onto yours.

“So good,” you moan when you come up for air, rolling your hips. He feels so amazing underneath you, hard cock bulging obscenely in his jeans, that you can’t help yourself, humping away mindlessly while you kiss, whining slightly when you can’t quite find the right angle to ease the aching in your clit. 

Hongjoong laughs into your mouth, fingers sliding up to grab your hips. “Slow it down, baby,” he whispers, pressing more kisses along your jawline. With his strong grip, he takes control, guiding you back and forth, slower, but more forcefully, his own hips moving to grind himself up into you. “‘M not going anywhere. Take your time.” 

Your whole body shudders at his words. With another pitiful whimper, you snake your arms around his neck, tangling your fingers into his hair as your mouth dives for his again. 

Take your time. If he insists. With his encouragement, you lose yourself in the languorous pace he’s set, soaking panties rubbing on the rough denim below, friction building, a wave that never crests, just rolls on and on. You know you could do this for hours, make out and dry hump like this, without coming. It takes you much longer to come when you’re stoned, but the orgasms are so intense that it’s always worth it. 

Your fingers brush over his neck and he shudders beneath you. Intrigued, you lower your mouth to his collarbones, picking a spot exposed by his open shirt, and gently bite down. He groans brokenly, hips jerking upwards, and you lick at the same spot a few times, lazy, slow strokes, before sucking, painting his skin with a love mark. 

“Fuck,” he hisses, bucking again, with renewed urgency. Giggling, you sign your work with a light nuzzle before he grabs your chin, frantically bringing your face to his for more kisses, wet and filthy and so sensual that you feel like you’re nearly going feral with desire. 

“Hongjoong,” you whine, needing more of him, greedy hands lacing into his hair. Your sense of touch is so heightened right now that the strands feel like silk wrapping around your fingertips. 

As you moan again, Hongjoong’s hand travels to your neck, fingers playing there, curling and uncurling. “When you say my name like that, you know what it makes me wanna do?” 

“Wha-what?” Your thighs are starting to get damp, covered in slickness from the sound of his husky voice. You grind down harder, gasping in pleasure when he meets your movements with a powerful thrust of his own.

“Sit you on my cock and fuck you stupid.” He bites his lip, looking down at your chest as it jiggles under your sweater. “Let you ride it. Could you do that for me? Ride it real good?”

“Fuck yes!” There’s no hesitation in your answer. It’s all you want right now, to feel him all over you and inside you. Yes, of course you’d be so good for him, because you know he’d be good to you. Even though you’ve only really just met him, you feel it in your soul. 

“I bet you would. Ride it like a fuckin’ champ. Make it bouncy.” His right hand squeezes your ass, making you squeal into his kiss. 

A dreamlike haze hangs over everything now. You stare open-mouthed while his left hand fondles your breast over your sweater. Then he tugs your top up and your bra down, far enough for the cool air to kiss your exposed skin. His deft fingers pinch your nipple sharply for a few painfully pleasurable seconds before his hot tongue replaces them, and your drug-and-lust-addled brain wonders dumbly for a moment who let out such a shameless mewl before you recognize that it was you.  

Time stretches in that surreal way that it does when you’re high, making every minute feel like an eternity. Hongjoong laves his tongue over your other nipple, sucking the pert bud into his mouth, and you keen, head lolling back while pleasure ripples through you. His tongue is magic. You bet he gives good head. You hope you find out. 

Unfortunately, though, while you’re wondering what his mouth would feel like on your cunt, time has not actually stopped, and there is still a party going on. Which you are rudely reminded of when it suddenly spills over into the room, popping the little bubble that you and Hongjoong have been hiding in.

“Don’t worry, no one’s ever in- oh, shit!” 

A loud curse draws your attention away from Hongjoong’s tongue and to the tall brother standing in the doorway, frozen like a deer. There’s a cute coed holding his hand, peeking around him to see what made him yell. 

“Yunho, what the fuck, man?” Hongjoong groans, a scowl twisting his kiss-swollen lips. “Get out!”

You’re moving sluggishly, brain lagging with arousal and what you’re recognizing is a lot of THC for such a small brownie, but Hongjoong seems to have more of his wits about him, as he carefully lets go of your sweater so you’re covered again. He doesn’t try to slide you from his lap, just places his hands on your waist to keep you steady. 

Tall guy’s sputtering now. “I-I’m sorry, the door wasn’t locked, and - “

“It’s fine, Yun, just go, all right?” Hongjoong glances at you. “You okay?”

If you were sober, you’d probably be horrifically embarrassed to be caught tits-out. Might even run for the door so you could go home and hide for the rest of the weekend or month or year. But between the brownie and the man currently checking in with you, you’re feeling too good right now to really give a shit what anyone else thinks. 

You nod at Hongjoong’s question, beaming happily. A crooked smile spreads across Hongjoong’s face, his thumbs etching tiny circles into your sides. 

“Hongjoong?” Yunho’s basically a statue at this point, completely immovable in the doorway. “I know we’re not supposed to let anyone else in here, but seeing as how you have someone else in here, uh… am I gonna get in trouble for this?”  

“If I say no, will you fuckin’ leave already?” Hongjoong glares at the other man, and it does not escape your attention how sexy he looks when he’s mad. 

“I don’t know. I mean, we’ll leave, but I don’t know if you’re just saying that to get me t-”

“Get out!” 

Your sudden shout snaps Yunho into action. He slams the door shut, leaving you alone with Hongjoong, who is gawking at you with his mouth hanging open. Oops. Maybe you shouldn’t have done that.

“Sorry,” you apologize, cringing. “I didn’t mean to shout.” 

“No, that was so hot,” Hongjoong declares, leaning forward to kiss you eagerly. 

“Yeah?” you pant against his lips in surprise.  

He nods, nose jostling yours, and kisses you again, and again, until you’re dizzy, needing oxygen, but you’re unwilling to tear yourself away from his mouth. All you want is to lose yourself in him again, crawl back into that heat from before. 

Just as you feel it starting to happen, he pulls away. 

“We should probably lock the door,” he says, but he doesn’t move. His eyes are studying your face carefully, you realize, looking for any signs of objection. For some reason, that just makes your answer even more affirmative. 

“Good idea,” you reply, slipping off his lap and crossing the room in three quick steps. You shoot him a glance over your shoulder as you twist the lock. Either the pot is slowing his reactions as much as it’s slown yours, or he doesn’t care that you catch him openly staring at your ass. He grips his cock through his jeans, hand flexing as he squeezes slightly. 

His gaze is too intense even from across the room. It makes you shy, has you lowering your head as you return to the couch. His fingers slide under your chin, tilt your face up to meet his ravenous lips as he guides you onto your back. 

Your boots hit the floor one after the other, followed by his sneakers. One of his arms props him up over you. His other hand grips your thigh, spreading your legs apart, allowing him to slot himself in between. He swallows your sigh when his fingers roam inwards, slipping against your core. 

“Damn, baby, did I do all this?” he asks, rubbing at the dampness seeping through the layers of your panties and tights. 

You pluck at the buttons on his shirt, palms skimming over the warm skin that’s revealed beneath. He hisses quietly when you brush over his stomach. Seems it’s not just his neck that’s sensitive. Good to know. 

“Yes,” you nod, squirming slightly when he drops his hand to cup you. His thumb applies a bit of pressure so achingly near your clit that you whine, almost as loudly as you’d yelled before. “Please tell me you’re gonna do something about it.” 

He smirks then, that maddeningly taunting smile of his. The one that tells you not to be fooled by his quiet demeanor. The one that tells you he’s trouble.  “As soon as you tell me your name.” 

His hand drags frustratingly slowly upwards, spreading your slickness as it goes, making you whimper. “Hongjoong!” 

“No, that’s my name.” His fingertips are crawling now, moving closer and closer to the waistband of your tights, one millimeter at a time. 

The anticipation is driving you insane. And it seems you’re not the only one enjoying it, judging by the way he’s rutting his bulge into your thigh.

“Don’t tease,” you complain, pouting. 

“But that’s my favorite part,” he shoots back, grinning madly. Fuck. He’s trouble for sure. 

His fingers trace shapes over your hips, back and forth, long lines that have you huffing in frustration. Then he curls them under the waistband, pulling them down, just the tiniest fraction of an inch, then another, tongue flicking out to wet his bottom lip as he looks at you, and then - 

He stops. 

You groan, head tossing back to bounce against the arm of the couch. 

“YN, my name is YN, fuck, I yield!” 

“That didn’t take long,” he gloats. “So desperate for me. I love it.” 

If you weren’t still high, you might be embarrassed. Instead, you’re brazen, whimpering in agreement. You want him, just like he wants you, why bother to hide it? 

He finally releases you from your misery by rolling down all that annoying clothing that separates you from him, tossing it onto the floor. A gentle scrape of his fingernails on your bare skin has you trembling, begging for more of his touch. He obliges, lowering his mouth to leave hot-breathed kisses on your thighs. 

“Y’know what else I like to do when I’m high?” he asks, watching you with hooded eyes. His hands haven’t stopped moving, are languidly pushing your skirt up to your waist. 

“What?”

“Eat pussy.” He licks his lips. “Wanna eat you, baby. Can I?” 

“Please,” you groan, reaching for your skirt, pulling it up as far as you can, baring yourself to him. He grins, fingers spreading you open, and you twitch as the little puffs of his delighted laughter swirl over your sensitive skin. 

Hongjoong flattens his tongue, dragging it up and down a few times. You keen, fingers digging into the wool of your skirt, clutching the material tightly, when he keeps moving up, circling your clit, before he undulates his tongue, making the tiny nub bounce. Then he switches back to licking stripes, pressing the taut muscle more firmly against you with each pass.

You feel like your entire body is pulsating in time with your clit. “Oh my god.” 

“You’re so wet,” he groans happily, lapping without restraint at your pussy, sloppy and loud. “Could fuckin’ drown down here.” 

His mouth. It’s sinful, how good he is with it, the way he kisses your folds and sucks on your clit. Uses it to say the filthiest things, keeping up a running commentary: 

Look at you, dripping all over the place. Such a mess, baby. Let’s see how much wetter you can get.

Could eat this pretty pussy for hours and never get my fill. Got me so greedy.

Mmmph, love the way you taste. Bet you’re even sweeter when you come.

You don’t catch every word, given the way he mumbles them into your cunt, but you hear enough to have you babbling in response, chanting his name and praising his skills over and over. 

When your words dissolve into moans, Hongjoong changes it up, adding his fingers to the mix. His mouth seals around your clit while he strokes inside you, warm walls spreading to allow his lithe digits to plunge in and out. Then he thrusts his tongue into your clenching hole, using his fingertips to roll your thrumming nub around, lightly squeezing as he fucks you with his mouth. 

“Hongjoong!” You’re losing your mind, your entire body vibrating with pleasure. “Holy shit, please!” Can’t even finish your sentence, your foggy brain too busy focusing on holding your head up so you can watch him. Drool runs from the corner of your mouth, lips slack as you pant wildly. 

He laughs, popping off your clit with a loud slurp. “Please what?” He nuzzles his face against your thigh, kissing it gently. “What do you need?”

“I - I need…” You break off with a sudden mewl as he presses insistently into that soft spot on your inner walls, like he’s trying to leave an impression of his fingertip. “Oh fuck, right there, don’t stop!” 

“Don’t worry, I got you,” he vows, catching your eye. His face is a mess, hair damp with sweat, a shiny layer of your arousal smeared all over his mouth and chin. His hips keep rolling into the couch beneath him, and his voice wobbles a little as he speaks, but his gaze is unwavering. “Just lie back and let me do my thing. I’ll get you there.” 

He drops his mouth to your cunt again, and keeps his word. 

Time expands again as the tension inside you snaps. Your orgasm pulsates through you, flowing like a wave through your tingling body, wiping away all coherent thought, even turning your vision white for a few long seconds. Hongjoong’s fingers continue to massage your g-spot while his tongue still flutters over your clit, and you slowly come back to yourself, inhaling deeply before sobbing his name. 

He lifts his head momentarily to observe the results of his hard work. “That’s it, baby. Let go,” he murmurs, tongue skimming down to lap at your release. Lost in ecstasy, you thread your hand through his hair, tugging his face closer to your cunt, and ride out your high on his tongue, hips bucking erratically. He voices his approval with a guttural moan. 

Like any other time you’re high, you come for several minutes, shaking and twitching, panting and moaning. When your pelvis finally ceases moving and your fingers release their grip on his hair, Hongjoong pulls away. He doesn’t sit up, just lays his cheek on your hip, dark eyes scanning your face. 

“I was right. You taste sweet when you cum.” 

Jesus. That mouth. You start to giggle, flustered by his statement, both embarrassed and pleased, and he joins you, head bouncing slightly on your shaking stomach. Suddenly you’re overwhelmed by the need to feel him on top of you, to let his weight press you down, anchor you to reality, so with frantic hands you guide him back up to your waiting mouth. 

His kisses are slower now, softer. He’s still hard beneath his jeans, grinding into you, but it’s not as desperate as it was when he was humping the couch. You slide your hands down his chest, down his stomach, down to where the buttons on this waistband lay.

Hongjoong ignores your little cry of protest when he suddenly draws away, sitting back on his heels and peering down, glimmering eyes merrily taking in the state of you.

“You’re gorgeous,” he tells you, and you believe him. “I’m glad you broke in here tonight.”

Despite yourself, you laugh. “I didn’t break - you know what? Not important.” You prop yourself up on your elbows, staring pointedly at his crotch. “Don’t you need help with that? I’m more than happy to return the favor.” 

He smirks. “The party’s not over yet. We’ll get there.” Your stomach somersaults at the promise laced into his voice. “But speaking of parties…”

Right. Holy shit, there’s still an entire frat partying right outside these walls. Hongjoong’s unbelievable tongue managed to make you forget that for a while. 

“I should probably go downstairs and check on things,” he finishes with a sigh, buttoning his shirt up halfway.

It’s strange, you’re still basking in the afterglow of your climax, and yet you can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment. 

It’s just like when you get really high and then eat an entire convenience store’s worth of snacks. Weed makes you insatiable. Hongjoong just gave you an earth-shattering orgasm and you’re already dying for more. 

Maybe you should thank him and let the moment be what it was. 

“Right. Of course.” Begrudgingly, you let him go of him. He rises slowly, stretching and rolling his neck. “Um. That was great. I guess… I guess I’ll see you around?” 

Hongjoong laughs, gesturing for you to stand. “Come on, you’re coming with me.” 

Your heart pounds a quick beat at his smile. 

“Why?” you inquire. “Worried I’ll learn all of Alpha Tau’s deepest darkest secrets if I stay here alone? Think you need to keep an eye on me?” 

“Nah,” he replies, grabbing your hand. You let him tug you to your feet, let him pull hard enough that you crash into him, your palms landing on his chest while he slings his arm around your back to catch you. “I just want to keep my hands on you.”

© 2023 by minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost. I do not allow translations of my work.

If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging! Likes do not help it get seen by other readers. 💕

[asleepingtiger]

Final Chapter for Hideaway - We've Got This

Raven walked back into her bedroom to gather her work bag, she left Anya to sleep when she woke up. After a nice weekend, Raven had a full week ahead of her and she wasn’t fully prepared, mentally at least.

“How do you feel about living with me, buying a home together?”

Raven jumped out of her skin, she thought Anya was fast asleep but nope, she was sitting upright cross-legged on the bed covers wearing nothing but her glasses with her laptop open.

Anya looked over her glasses and smirked, “edgy much?”

Raven stood upright and rolled her eyes, “yes, well, you had me up most of the night. I’m tired and running on ridiculous amounts of coffee.”

Anya smiled and still hadn’t had an answer to her first question, “You didn’t answer my question, little bird.”

Raven smiled bashfully, “I’d love that, but I really have to go and make some money.”

“Shall I look and send you links to them?” Anya asked as she typed away.

Raven rushed over to Anya and gave her a kiss, “Yes, now, I have to go or I’ll be late.”

Anya chuckled, “Okay, my bird. Have a good day.”

[optiwashere]

Random thoughts create silly fics.

This fic is all my own mind poison because I thought, "what about her birthdays?" one time. First morn days in the Forgotten Realms have the kinds of celebrations you'd expect, but for someone who was a Sharran most of her life?

Rating: G

Category: F/F

Ship: Shadowheart/Trans Fem Tav

Summary:

While still recovering in Baldur's Gate, Shadowheart nearly forgets to tell Asheera it's her first morn day. Or: Shadowheart can't remember what it's like to celebrate her birthday.

[thegreatyin]

What would they do if stuck in a room with the person they’ve been avoiding? - celestial trio (individual answers but. those 3)

okay see the thing is the person altair and canis have been avoiding is rigel and the person rigel has been avoiding is. well. okay altair and canis as well but a highly specific character related to his secret emo backstory works too

altair would simply do what he does in any social interaction!!!!!!!!! aka stand to the wayside and say absolutely nothing unless directly prompted and just kinda look vaguely uncomfortable and scary the whole time. if he had to make small talk he'd keep his words curt and to the point and probably with no small amount of aggression in his tone (9 times out of 10 he doesn't necessarily mean it) (he's not good at small talk) (someone please help him)

canis, by contrast, is a lot more actively sociable and open to conversation! whilst being very awkward and maybe too overly-enthusiastic about it. he's the type to try and make the best out of a bad situation and unless he's refuted he'll be attempting to get along with/tolerate the other person until they're both free. hi im the king of sanctus you've probably heard of me, how are you doing, how's your day been, etc etc. he leaves the scene with suspiciously even more enthusiasm afterwards but at least he can walk the walk about it

rigel is not spending one single minute in this situation. he is prioritizing Leaving. he is simply ripping the door off its hinges and walking away. if he can't do that because it's some sort of social thing or (god forbid) the door is rigel-proof he's going to start metaphorically eating the walls. possibly actually. he's absolutely not going to be the one prompting conversation but unlike altair he will respond and carry it along once it starts. he probably has the raw charisma multiplier to manage for maybe half an hour tops but any longer and he will start trailing off and making bad excuses to leave and stop talking

as a bonus, if all three of them were stuck together with This One Hypothetical Guy they'd all be trying to avoid, canis would be the hard carry of this situation. altair is being altair in the corner and rigel's staying quiet for once in his life going ^u^ and inside he is screaming in a thousand ancient languages nobody who's alive can even understand anymore. canis pastes the biggest smile on his face he can muster (that nobody can even see behind his mask) and acts like everything's fine and dandy for all three of them and then the minute they're each allowed to leave they all scatter to the winds in different directions like lemmings

[dragonnarrative-writes]

It is kinda silly and nonsensical as any dream and for a bit of context I always have really vivid dreams.

Let me set the scene, I wake up in a strange place I also realise where I am and who I am with and I settle with an "oh no" simon comes in and he is magnificent but in the back of my mind I realise that he is the sort of danger that is not really fun.

I am sitting in a bed when he takes my chin in his hand and says "I am going out.. behave" and then he goes out.

The house is weird, it was built like a maze of corridors and tunnels that have water in them. My room is in the middle of the maze and I remember he built it for the reason that he wanted to hunt me in it for fun and to keep me from escaping but I am smart and I am built for the long game, I was mapping the maze and water tunnels out over the course of months keeping docile and non troublesome for him just for my great escape,and today was the day.

I started with the corridors going through the right places and everything was going alright, until he came back unexpectedly and I felt my heart drop...I still have the tunnels left.

The tunnels are deep and full of water and as I said I was in the long game and was training my breath and I can hold it for a long time he came in and started hunting me in the tunnels but even if I am not faster or stronger, I am smarter and i managed to escape and for five years I managed to live in a secluded island until he found me

"you thought you can escape me forever,love? No you are mine"

Oh, I love how weird and vivid dreams can be! This sounds like a lot of stressful fun. Mapping and planning and scheming and finally escaping. He created the maze for you, and you're smart! Of course you'd figure it out eventually! You made sure he'd underestimate you, and you won your freedom.

I can just imagine turning the corner in your secluded island getaway, all those years later, and there he is. Magnificent but dangerous, just as always.

(for some reason, I imagine him a bit waterlogged. like he swam there and didn't have time to dry off before he found you lol)

Thanks for sharing!

[numbfandom]

I’m stuck in a state of coming up with CR AUs that I will never get around to writing about

[bigboysteveharrington]

I was thinking about the one shot I’m probably going to write to give more context about information I know that wouldn’t come up in Steve or Eddie’s pov when we get to a certain point of The Things in Life That I Can’t Find

But then I was thinking about all the other related information I have outside of Steve and Eddie’s perspectives and now suddenly I am very close to starting an also multi-chapter fic that takes place in the same world and same time frame that focuses on the Hopper-Byers family side and is possibly just Will’s pov but more likely switching between his and El’s with context on what’s going on with their family and them navigating their dynamic with Will the protective brother but also bitter and jealous of her getting so much attention out of Mike

And the platonic dynamics are what’s making me want to write it, but it would also potentially have El realizing that what she feels for Mike is closer to the way she feels about Will than the way Will feels about Mike with some eventual Byler

And there might eventually be a Ronance one too, but I have to get far enough in the main fic for certain information to come out before I can do that

[hoeassproductions]

Hideout Hideaway - Part 1

You've denied your feelings for Eddie for a while but with Graduation right around the corner, you're beginning to regret not making a move on him. . .That is until you can't help yourself anymore.

------------------------------------

Edward. Fucking. Munson. Has been the bane of your existence since your junior year. You had one class together where he sat behind you and he always made it his mission to annoy you with his commentary on his DnD campaigns or the book characters he was reading about, rather than actually paying attention. You didn't know why he didn't just drop out if he wasn't going to even try. The guy had already been held back once, and that was just fate for you, wasn't it? Sitting in front of the guy you've had a crush on for a year now? It was just the tits that he seemed to enjoy annoying you as much as you enjoyed him giving you any attention, not that you'd ever admitted it out loud. 

It wasn't until it was a week before you graduated that you realized you had lost so much time not telling him how you felt. Now you probably wouldn't see him again. 

On your last day of regular class together, you decided to be bold and figure out a way to steal more time with him. You just had to wait for the right opportunity to present itself. As luck would have it, you found Garreth and Eddie standing a few lockers from your classroom door discussing their show at the Hideout tomorrow night. You only hear them in passing but it was enough for you to know this was your in. 

The teacher was running late and for once, Eddie settled into his seat behind you with time to spare. This was it. 

Do it, don't be a chicken. 

You steel your resolve and before you can think anymore on it, you turn to him. 

"Hey, did I hear your band has a show at The Hideout tomorrow? My friend is interested in going and asked me to come." 

He looks at you with a shocked expression, but he smooths his face after a couple seconds. 

"Yeah. We're playing at 7. I don't really think it's your scene though, princess." 

You cock your head a little, "And why's that Munson?" 

"Uh. It's a dingy, dive bar. Not exactly a place you would probably vibe with." He says with sincerity, almost as if he's looking out for you. 

You hold eye contact with him, thinking for a beat as a thought crosses your mind that causes goosebumps to rise across your skin. 

In for a penny. . . 

"I think I'll be the judge of that," You lean in with mischief in your eye, knowing you can't help yourself. "Besides, I know we haven't been that. . . close. . . yet, but you'll be surprised at how dirty I can get." 

The teacher walks in then, summoning everyone's attention to the front. You turn back in your seat to focus, but not before you catch a red flush creeping over his face, followed by a smug one applied to yours. 

This is gonna be fun! 

For the rest of class, you don't hear a peep out of him but you can feel his eyes boring into the back of your head. When you gather your things to leave, you're intentional to not make eye contact with him as you put all of your items back in your bag. As you go to stand, you notice he stands abruptly as well. You lock eyes with his and can tell he wants to say something, but before he can muster a word to come out of his cute lips, you place your finger on them to cut him off. 

"I'm expecting a good show tomorrow, and I don't like to be disappointed." You wink at him and walk away. 

------------------------------------

You and your friend have never been to the Hideout before, but how bad can it be? You get to see live music and Eddie looking hot while playing it. Even if the rest of the night doesn't go to plan, it's still a win win as far as you're concerned. 

Pulling in the parking lot, you find a spot near Eddie's van towards the back. With anticipation at seeing him beginning to course through your veins, you check your lipstick and look toward your friend as you adjust the girls. 

"Showtime" 

Decked out in a black crop top, a black and white plaid skirt with fishnets and black boots, you know you look good. So when you walk into the bar, it isn't surprising to find a few eyes moving in your direction as you walk to the bar to grab a drink. As you're going through your purse to secure a few dollars for your drink, a ringed hand reaches over your shoulder with cash in it and falls on the bar next to you. 

"I got this one, Benny." You could tell from the hair raising on the back of your neck that it was Eddie, as if the rings weren't a dead give away. 

You turn around to find him so close to you that he's basically caging you between him and the bar. 

"You made it." 

"I sure did" you say, not making any effort to hide you looking him up and down, soaking in how good he looks in his band tee with the sleeves cut off showing his arms adorned with ink you've never seen before and dammit if it wasn't so hot, that you almost missed his signature ripped jeans and black boots. . . Almost. 

When your eyes meet his, you see that he is also sizing you up, and taking in the sight, not missing how he lingers on the skin of your thighs adorned with your tights, your skirt pulled up a little extra tonight to make sure he could get a good look. Falling right into your play, he is drinking you in, and licking his lips while he does it. 

"Thanks for the drink, Eddie." Your hand finds his bicep, caressing a tattoo there you couldn't help but touch. It affects him, as expected. God he was so easy, and this liquid courage is smoothing out your nerves more and more by the minute. 

You lean into his ear to whisper, while you drag your hand over to his chest and down his abdomen towards his belt. "You play your chords right, and you can have some more time with me after your show. Alone." 

You pull back and grin into your drink as you take a sip. He's frozen to his spot, processing your words. Your boldness, after all this time, is working. He has a dumbstruck expression on his and you put it there. 

Just you wait and see what I want to do to you later. . . 

"Ya know, I've never seen you with this confidence before, but I'm into it." He says, words returning to his brain. 

Behind him, you can hear Gareth calling out to him that they need to start their set. Eddie turns towards the stage, motioning for one more minute. Refocusing his attention back to you, you almost close the distance between you two, holding a whisper's breath away from his face focused on his lips. 

"Later, you can be in me. Now go rock your set." 

He grins at you like the Cheshire cat as you turn him around by the hips and push him in the direction of the stage with a smack on the ass. 

After a couple minutes of instrument tuning, Eddie speaks into the mic, "Hey everybody. We're Corroded Coffin and we're about to rock your skirts off." He pulls at the strings on his guitar as they begin to play. 

He looks so damn hot strumming that guitar with those nimble fingers, commanding that stage. He throws winks your way any opportunity he gets. You're seated at a table in the middle of the room now, your friend having found someone else to talk to. Not that you mind, you're front and center of the stage enjoying the show as if it's only you and Eddie in the room. Judging by the looks and knowing glances he's sending your way, there's no mistake he's playing his heart out for you. 

With one more song left, they let everyone know that this last one goes out to the people who know who they want to take home tonight. He looks you dead in the eyes as he says it.

Feeling that stare like a thousand flames licking your skin, you can't help but up the ante and spread your legs open so that only he can see you're not wearing any panties. 

He sends a gruff groan into the mic and strikes his guitar, sending music through the air. All that is standing between you and him now is about three minutes of song and your body is singing with the music, his voice caressing you in all the right places. 

------------------------------------

He finally wraps up the set and as he is putting the instruments back in cases, you let him know you have to go get something from your car but that you'll wait for him out back. 

"Don't go running off on me now, I've been counting on that alone time with you all night, sweetheart." 

"Wouldn't dream of it. I plan to make all your wishes come true." 

You walk away, swishing your hips knowing he's looking. 

You get out to your car, check your makeup and wait a few minutes before an idea strikes. 

You get out of the car and walk to the back of Eddie's van finding it unlocked, just as you'd hoped. You hop in, leaving it cracked. You shuffle around to find a lot of miscellaneous items, including a couple of blankets and pillows. 

Perfect! 

You climb up to the front to check if you see him coming out yet, but don't. As you look down to find your footing back, you spot his black lunchbox on the floor board. 

Knowing exactly what to do next to set the mood, you swipe a joint and lighter from the box. 

And now, we wait. 

[hoseoksluna]

BANANA MILK | jjk

pairing: fuck buddy!jungkook x f. reader

genre: smut, a tiny bit of angst

word count: 5.6k

summary: when a porn video accidentally plays on his tv, jungkook makes sure you watch.

playlist: banana milk / pinterest board: wine

warnings: forced and consensual porn watching, crotch grinding, dom/sub dynamics, plenty of desperation, praise and degradation, reader has daddy issues (like the writer,) oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, biting, pet names and a particular title used, handjob, plushie used during intercourse, spanking, raw sex, squirting, size kink, multiple orgasms, cockwarming

note: this can be read as a standalone, however it's a part two of my fic 'wine'. you guys asked for it and i delivered. <3 i wrote this entire fucking thing in a trace and on my phone, and i still don't understand how i managed to do that. even though i struggled in the beginning, i enjoyed writing this as soon as i got into it. there will be a part three as well—from jungkook's pov. so as you read, look forward to it next sunday. let me know what you think in the comments, don't be shy! mwah ᡣ𐭩

Following the shapes of the sunlight on the parquet floors, your small feet are warm. The clicking of fingers on a sleek keyboard takes you, momentarily, into a hazy frame of mind. You feel as though you’re in a novel yourself, and the sound is a mere announcement that your steps, calculated in depth—thought through, plotted, and cared for—are counted by the man a few feet away from you, the writer, the long lost poet. Counted patiently throughout the rising action until they reach, at last, the climax.  The notion unfolds within you, unfurls little by little in a way that you like, for it makes you feel exceptionally alive and poetic. It casts a languorous smile upon your shimmery face. Perhaps it’s due to the double meaning because you’re here for a reason. Or perhaps you owe that smile to the easy joy blooming in your chest, one that was sown hardly an hour ago.

You were in a bookstore, skimming through a paperback that enveloped you in blue dreaminess. The language you had the honor to graze with the pad of your finger was flowery in a way that stirred something within you—something that is noticeably sprouting to life. The furniture of the room was dark and antique under the yellow dimmed light, very much like the one you have at home. It was so you, a true personification of your whole being that made it quite difficult to leave, even though you had something to look forward to.

You were convinced it was your home.

A home that you came around to for the first time in your life—how strange.

You bought the book. It had to be yours, and you had to have a keepsake, a direct link to your hideaway. You set it by the wall next to your shoes and your purse with a pink photocard holder, pulling out a certain bottle of happiness that you brought along for your friend.

The sunlight strips take you straight to him, your feet—kissed by the sun—padding softly on the floor; the third step of the rising action. Jungkook sits slumped on his coffee brown couch with his laptop propped on his lap. His shoulders, clad in a denim sweatshirt, hunch in ever persistent concentration, a Word document opened and being swiftly filled with Hangul. Persistent enough that he doesn’t twist his head to greet you. He knows you’re there. Heard the sweet sing-song beep of his passcode being accepted, letting you in into his solitary life. Knows you didn’t forget it this time because he didn’t have to stand to his feet to open the door for you as he so often did in the past.

You wrap your arms around his neck from the back, tits squished against the nape from the low neckline you chose to wear for the day. It shreds his concentration to smithereens; you feel him inhale raggedly through his nose, fingers coming to a halt on the keyboard. You press your lips against his scarred cheek, not as plump as they usually are because they are still pulled taut into a smile, and whisper, “hi, Ggukie.”

He turns his head to face you from the side.

“Hi,” he breathes. There are peachy specks of glitter scattered all over your eyelids and you watch him study them, round eyes flicking between each one of them as if he can’t get enough of them—as if there are more for him to greet the more he looks.

And he’s right. There are.

His tender mien causes your heart to clench, overflow with a continual stream of endearment for him. You notice the mark of your guileless kiss on the apple of his cheek, the lip gloss pink and glimmering. Decide to leave it there. Decide it suits him well.

“Close your eyes,” he says, and you do.

He drifts the pad of his thumb along that delicate skin. Not to disturb the artwork, no. But to acquaint himself further with it. It’s been a long time since you wore glitter. It’s been equally as long since you were this happy—he senses it, the little iridescent stars tell him somehow. There’s so much of it that when he lifts the digit, the eye makeup stays intact, as if he hadn’t touched it at all. Jungkook flicks his eyes to the craftwork of his stained fingertip, the glitter, the stars nuzzling homely within the lines. Smiles as he mumbles, “pretty.”

You kiss him airily as a thank you. No hands, not anything. Just your lips puckering from the little distance between the pair of you. You retrieve the bottle of happiness from your back pocket and hold it against his hard chest.

Confusingly, with lips rounded, Jungkook looks down and gasps.

Banana milk.

“Come here.”

He hauls you down onto his lap like you weigh nothing, his laptop pushed away to the cold side of the couch. You squeal, pulling your hair as you lay against them and try to find a better position, discomfort painting your features in a way that makes Jungkook scrunch his nose adorably. He lifts your neck and gathers your hair, smoothing it down on the leather. You look up at him. The stars have migrated to your glossy eyes.

“Where’s yours?” he asks, hand placed on the crown of your head, the other clutching the chunky bottle protectively like a child.

“I already drank mine.”

Jungkook pierces the paper lid with the slim straw and takes a sip. Lowers it until it pokes you in the line of your lips. Nods at you, encouraging you to drink.

Your heart clenches again, and the thoughtful gesture makes it swell. It suddenly feels like your chest is very tight, like there’s no space for your organs. You massage the feeling away, wrapping your lips around the plastic, taking a few sips. No hands, not anything.

“You’re a sweet boy,” you whisper, a dollop of the creamy liquid adorning the oily pinkness of your lips.

A bright blush creeps along his cheeks, settling along the bridge of his nose as it ever so often does. Gazes down at you, then at your lips. Scrunches his nose again as he shakes his head, bending to peck you delicately, tongue swiping across your bottom lip, cleaning you up. His habit at this point.

“I’m a man.”

Your face grows hot. The imprint of your lip gloss stained his mouth and it worsens your state, deepens your dreaminess. You’re leaving small parts of your being as marks on him. You find that beautiful, in all its simplicity.

“Sweet and pretty,” you add in a hushed whisper, more to yourself than him.

Twinkles, akin to your glitter, flood his eyes and they deepen in thought. He doesn’t say anything for a moment and when he drifts the palm of his hand down your throat, curling around your collarbones, you realize he’s having flashbacks. 

Wine. Neck. Tongue.

The cause and effect on your panties in mere seconds. 

Your helplessness. The way you apologized for coming because you weren’t allowed. 

Jungkook smirks and so do you. Lets his palm roam down to your tits, discovers only with the lift of his finger that you’re wearing a lacy blue bralette under your top. 

“So easy to pull to the side,” he comments, more to himself than you. Doesn’t look at you when he begins to fondle them, transfixed by their fullness. 

“That was my—”

“How was your day?” he cuts in, a breathy concoction of a hiss and a moan escaping his mouth once he feels your nipples stiffen under his hand. Index and thumb come and squeeze at that nub, coaxing a hum out of you. 

Your brain degrades slowly but surely, metamorphosing into mush. You struggle with your memory, abruptly unable to remember where you were and what you did before you were half spread across his lap.

“Good,” you try. “Fantastic, actually.” 

Jungkook smiles. Pinches your nipple again, fingers pressing flat and moving up and down. You moan out for him, writhing in a newly, softly burning desire.

“Really?” 

“Yeah, went to the bookstore.” 

Did you? 

“Bought anything?” 

His hand drifts back to your neck, never losing skin-to-skin contact, wraps around the column, then goes back down to your tit. This time, to your neglected one. Gives it the same attention. 

You don’t remember if you bought anything.

Zoning out, you focus on the pleasure, fluttering your eyes closed. Figure this is just a meaningless talk that doesn’t require truthful answers or any for that matter. You widen your legs, calling out for his touch there. This is what you came here for. He doesn’t need to know about the itty-bitty parts of your soul.

Jungkook grabs your arm and pulls you up, guiding you to straddle him. You poke the banana milk, propped against the backrest, with your knee. Despite your now lustful haze, you’re careful not to knock it over. 

A billow of the whole night lines his eyelashes, arousal blanketing his irises. You run your hand through his hair—can’t help yourself, you’re just obeying your body’s intimate wishes—and tip his head back, his soft strands sifting through your fingers. You draw near to his slightly parted mouth as if to kiss him, but you’re here just to tease him, to make him want more just like he did to you, hovering your lips above his. His slowly quickening inhales add much to your wooziness and you go to hide in the crook of his neck, but he stops you dead in your tracks when he says, “you came here to get fucked, didn’t you?” 

Your laughter is but a breath. “How did you know?”

You kiss him there, incorporating your tongue, sucking the sensitive skin for a mere beat of time. And just like him, you discover why he likes kissing your neck as much as he does.

A film of goosebumps shrouds the small portion of the exposed skin of his chest that you’re allowed to see. Jungkook moans lowly, gripping your ass and pulling you closer to his semi-hard crotch, sinking lower into the cushion. Eager hands hook under the hem of your top and fling it out of you, latching onto the back of your neck and drawing you to his face. 

He doesn’t kiss you.

He begins to talk.

“I waited for you all fucking day,” he murmurs against your lips, sucking in a breath of air as if there wasn’t enough in his lungs, as if voicing out his desire exerted his energy. 

“All I could think about were those fucking tits,” he confesses. “Those hips of yours, so small in my hands. That pussy, fuck. I wanna eat it,” he groans, furrowing his eyebrows. “God, I wanna eat it.” 

You nod to each and every word of his, grinding your pelvis against his, mewling into his mouth. 

“You understand what I’m saying to you, don’t you?”

You nod again, your body begging you to be allowed to arch your back, but the grip Jungkook has on your neck prevents it from happening. The fire of desire burns bright, made bigger and blue by his spluttering sparks.

“‘Course you do, you’re my good little girl, aren’t you? Smart and educated,” he praises and your walls clench. “Let me eat your little pussy.” 

“Please,” is all you manage to utter before he holds you steady by the waist and lays you down on the couch. 

Your shoulder blade hits the remote control and a sudden echo of a girl’s moan booms through the room. Both of your heads swing to the TV to see a girl humping her teddy bear, barren down to her full femininity except for her panties. She plays with her nipples, pulling on them while flicking her hair back, hips rapidly moving back and forth on the nose of her big fluffy friend. Mesmerized and completely sobered up from your drunkenness, your clit gains a heartbeat, your teeth sinking into the bottom of your lip.

Jungkook hastily rummages around you to find the remote. You stop him. 

“Leave it on.”

He blinks at you, mouth agape. You smile at him, thumb brushing along his knuckles as you take the remote from him and place it on the coffee table. The gesture smooths down the wrinkle between his brows. His blush deepens, the color of roses stunning you. 

Undoing your jeans, he pulls down your zipper. “You want me to eat you out while you watch porn?”

You nod. “Yes, sir.” 

Jungkook sighs, sagging your pants down to the middle of your thighs. “Don’t call me sir or I’ll fuck you in the ass right here, right now.”

“Hurry, she’s almost done.” 

He spanks you harshly and you squirm, quickly reminded of his need to be in control, but he listens to your need. Rewinds the video back. Slaps the remote back down onto the wood of the coffee table, which makes you burst into giggles and Jungkook smirks, folding you in half, dragging your panties to your jeans pooling above your knees. The center sticks to your core, causing him to growl, hand coming to wipe at the corners. The girl hops on the teddy bear. Moans fill your ears. 

He kisses your clit. Pinches the back of his sweatshirt and hurls it at your head, obscuring your view. You huff in frustration, throwing it back at him, but he catches it. Your breath hitches in your throat.

“You should focus.”

“You going all in for me?” you ask, speaking of his nakedness. 

Clothes come off on the verge of his climax, never before it; it’s so unlikely of him to discard himself so quickly. He usually keeps at least one item of clothing on, too hasty—too hungry to bother, until he can’t take the heat anymore.

“For you always.”

He dives into your pussy, tongue licking against your folds, nose pressed against your mound, inhaling you. Going up and down, he drinks you. Moans at the taste, eyes lidded and drunk as he stares at you through the little opening of your barely parted legs. You wish to spread them wider, the pleasure forces you to, but you can’t—the tight fabric won’t grant you the satisfaction. 

“Take it off of me,” you whine.

He comes up for air. “No.”

You whine louder, fingers grasping at the waistband. Jungkook grabs your hands and pins them down to the cushion, thumbs resting in the middle of your palms. He doesn’t let a drop of you go to waste, sheathes his tongue into your warmth as he fucks you, nose rubbing against your engorged clit. You tip your head back, lose a sight of him for a moment, digits naturally wrapping around his thumbs like a baby. A litany of curse words, broken by your moans that sync to the girl’s sounds of pleasure, fall from your mouth. You don’t even look at her, too busy—too distracted by the man below you, by the way his open mouth works against you, his dimples hollowing into straight lines, so akin to the sunlight strips that led you to him, as he flicks his tongue against your clit. 

You brush your fingers through his hair again, hold it at the roots through the small hole between your thighs. It provokes him enough that he looks up at you and finds you staring back at him. He growls against your cunt, a warning, the vibrations sending you back. Your eyes roll into your head and your hips follow, grinding into his glistening face. 

Jungkook hums. Sticks around to see if you’re watching the porn, slowing down the pace of his flicks. 

You’re not. 

Coming down from that wave, your eyes set back down on him. 

Jungkook peels his mouth off of you. Bends over you and grips your neck, pushing you down. The other hand spreads your slick all over your cunt, gliding back and forth. No pressure, not anything. Hearing your squelching noises, he mimics you. Also rolls his eyes back. Awakens the butterflies in your tummy. 

“Focus,” he hisses. 

You mewl. Ride his fingers to at least feel something, but you achieve nothing of the like. 

He spanks your pussy, another warning. 

You don’t listen. Can’t take your eyes off of him. Of the disheveled mess on top of his head, the sweat that pools at his hairline, the disarrange of his thick eyelashes from having his lids closed against your skin, the sheen of his nose, the wet puffiness of his lips, the kiss mark on his cheek. You take a deep breath. 

It’s impossible to focus on someone else other than him. Especially when he licks his lips, the tip of his tongue sailing around the arc of his lips—the arc of your character development. Swallows the dewiness he called out like teacher to pupil. 

You were a virgin when you met him. It was him who taught your body to get messy for him like this. His tongue that tasted your girlishness first. All your first times were with him and continue to be under his ever strict but safe supervision. 

Under his custody in a way. You do call him Daddy after all. 

“I missed your cuntie so much,” he husks, tightening his grip a tiny bit to emphasize the importance of his words. “But I can’t eat it if you don’t watch.” 

His index finger turns your head to the side and his other hand travels down to your wet heat. The girl clutches her friend’s fur in her fist and fucks him slowly. With each roll of her hips upwards, you can see the shine of her slick adorning her folds. Jungkook sinks two digits inside. Can barely fit them in due to the way you clench around him. You fight his hold against your cheek, needing to look at him. 

“Fuck, you like that, don’t you?” he whispers. “My horny little baby.” 

He keeps them there, at the beginning of your hole, pumping sluggishly. Doesn’t look at the girl. Didn’t do so ever since the video started playing. His eyes only drink in your reactions, the twist of your features, the little sounds and breaths that break out of your mouth, gracing his ears, making his cock hard. 

It disturbs something within you. Stirs it to life. Kindles it radiantly, adjoining it to the fire of your desire. You know what it is, but you can’t bring yourself to accept it. It’s a feigned reality, one of a novel. Not the one that could ever be applied to your life, burst at the seam, engulf the radius until it absorbs you. 

You’re not that lucky. You’re not lucky to have him in that way. 

You’re lucky enough to have him physically connected to you once a week. 

But emotionally? 

Tears prick your waterline. 

“I want your tongue on my clit,” you croak out, reckon it’s better that you listen to him, watch the girl make herself come, follow her footsteps and go home. 

Distance is safe. Distance heals everything, particularly emotional attachments. 

Jungkook ceases his slow movement. Lowers your legs down so they repose across his thighs. Strokes the tremble of your muscles, removing your jeans and your underwear. Keeps that dangly fabric hanging off of the edge of the coffee table. Caresses your face as he says, “Daddy wants that, too. So bad. But you gotta be my good little girl and watch it. Then Daddy will play with your little clit.” 

“Okay.” 

He settles back into his position between your legs, enfolds your thighs around his shoulders. Placing a tiny kiss on your pussy lips, the soft fleshiness of your thigh steals his attention. He begins to plant big, wet kisses there. Alternates between nibbles and those kisses, mumbling something under his breath that you can’t make out. 

The girl’s furry friend is drenched in her wetness. You buckle your hips with need. 

“I want to hear your apology,” he orders, lips pressed against your skin. 

You look at him and mewl. 

“Eyes on the TV.” 

He bites you. 

You hiss in pain. “I’m sorry.” 

He kisses the pain he caused. “What for?” 

“For watching you,” you whisper, a lump forms in your throat and is softened by the look of endearment he gives you. Doesn’t reprimand you for keeping your eyes on him. 

He latches onto the voluptuous part between your hip and thigh, marks you there. “And why did you watch me?” 

You bite your lip to cage the words you really want to say behind your teeth, but some of them slip out. “Because you’re beautiful. Too distracting.” Because you look at me, and not at her. 

Jungkook hums. Kitten licks your clit to reward you, lips wrapping around the bundle to suck it. Makes a sound of satisfaction, eyes closing to drown in the feeling. Lets go with a pop. Does it again. Suck. Pop. Suck. Pop.

You moan. Near to the last step of your rising action. One more and you’ll reach your climax. You keep your eyes peeled on the girl, her screams guiding you to that sweet release. 

“My good little girl. Making me weak. Making me drunk,” he mutters against your pussy, blowing cool air against your dewiness; you shiver and he laughs softly. “Come for me, baby. Please.” 

He sucks your clit again, but manages the pressure. Makes sure it’s light, so you enjoy it as much as he does. 

“Keep watching it. You’re doing such a good job. Keep those pretty eyes on the TV.” 

A new texture rubbing against your pussy surprises you and a moany gasp escapes you. You look down to find his dear Hello Kitty plushie in his hand and the different, rough sensation tears the rope in your belly. 

“That’s it. Ride her. Fuck yeah. Make a mess on her for me. Good, good girl.”  

You gush out, your orgasm taking over your body. Trembling, squirming, you thrash your hands in search of something stable that would help you ground yourself. Jungkook doesn’t slow down his movement but he finds your hand, finds the other one too, and pins them above your head. Bends over you and watches you closely, watches those waves surging through your body until they still. 

He kisses you, then. 

“Such a good girl for me. Well done.” 

You struggle to catch your breath. 

And there’s no oxygen left in your lungs when Jungkook begins to rock his hips against his plushie, the button of her nose pressing deliciously against your sensitive bundle. Your moans come out in staccatos, dry and breathless. Little squeaks of pleasure that make him crazy. Eyebrows furrowed, stare dark and fixed. 

“Fuck, Jungkook. Oh, fuck.” 

He laughs and you expect to be degraded, having realized that both of you forgot, for the first time in months, to do so, but he rams into her and nudges his nose against yours. Dimples prominent, mouth stretched into a grin. A sight to die for. 

“I could come like this, baby. But I want to feel you. Need your little pussy around me. Might go crazy if I don’t fuck you,” he says hastily, chucking the plushie away. “They might lock me up.” 

You might have wanted to go home, but who are you to deny him when he’s this desperate for you. 

Butterflies swarm in your belly. And you laugh. 

“Fuck me, baby. Come on,” you say, the pet name on your tongue scorching your whole body. 

Jungkook hums, palms his hardness as the outline of his cock makes you salivate. While you reach for Hello Kitty to hug her because you need something solid to hold onto, he pulls out his heavy length out of his sweatpants. Wanting him naked, your fingers push down the material and you uncover that he’s not wearing any underwear.

You curse under your breath, your pussy drooling for you. 

His member slaps against his stomach and you hiss, your saliva collecting in your mouth at the sight. He grips himself, throws his head back. You focus on his red tip, on the evidence of his arousal agleam in the sudden shadows of the room. The video stopped playing; silence replaced it instead. You care very little for it, entranced by his manhood, by his defined abdomen, the hardness and roundness of his pecs and the small, singular mole right underneath. You find yourself longing to kiss it, swipe your tongue against it and you fulfill your body’s wishes.  

You get on your knees. Hello Kitty falls in the middle of them. Jungkook curiously watches what you’re doing and when you do what you longed to do, he moans softly. 

“Princess,” he sighs, moans again when you brush your fingertips against his nipple. “You make me feel so good.” 

“Yeah?” you question, looking up at him, fingers tweaking his nipple and he vocally shows you how much he likes that. 

His sounds of pleasure, the variety of pet names and praise makes you feel woozy all over again. Your pussy dampens the plush fabric, adding to the mess. 

“Feel how hard you made me,” he whispers, guides your hand to his length, wrapping your fingers around his girth; you show him, too, how much you like that. “Spit on it.” 

You don’t have to be told twice. 

Spreading your liquid love all over him, you grip him tight beneath the mushroom to coax that delicious hiss you love hearing. You begin to move your hand from there, sliding his foreskin up and down. His groans are a panoply of pure beauty that you wish to own forever. You wish you could freeze time right now. Deem this is as close to paradise as you could ever get. 

This is where you want to be, for all eternity. 

You lick over his nipple and Jungkook sobs. Sounds just like you when he plays with you and it makes you sob just the same. You hold it in, though, think this is a time reserved for him only. Concentrate on flicking the nub to make him feel good, squeezing his tip. He deserves it. 

“I’m gonna turn myself in,” Jungkook whines. “It’s your fault.” He kisses the top of your head. “You made me crazy.” 

You laugh, quickening the pace of your hand that soon slows down when he sultrily orders, “hump her for me.” 

“Fuck,” you let out, eyes wide and round as you look up at him. “You want me to ride her?” 

A rumble of agreement passes through his lips. “Make Daddy proud.” 

You withdraw but Jungkook clicks his tongue. 

“Keep your hand where it belongs.” 

Your jaw falls open. 

He guides you back where he wants you, meanwhile you rearrange the plushie and sit down on her nose, cringing at the cold wetness you left there. 

You rock your hips once. The dull pleasure numbs your senses, electrifies your body. Before you’re even aware of it, you hump her like your life depends on it. Your hair lifts and falls around you gracefully in spite of your pace, little strays sticking to your flushed face.

���Slow down, fuck,” Jungkook groans, placing his hands on your shoulders and wrist to stop you. “Slow, baby. Can you do that for me?” 

You listen, even though it’s evident you don’t like it. 

He chuckles. “Good job,” he praises. “Fix your face.” 

You smile up at him, cracking into a gentle laughter. Out of breath, out of your mind. 

“That’s it.” 

He kisses your forehead. Reaches behind him and grabs the banana milk. Points the straw at your lips. You gulp it down loudly. Jungkook fixes your hair in the meantime. 

Sitting down, he hauls you onto his lap. Your back presses against his chest, the tip of his shaft aiming at the middle of your belly. It scares you, how deep he can go and you turn your head to look at him with wide eyes.

He squeezes your tits, pulls the fabric to the side. Pinches both of your nipples at the same time before he kneads the flesh. Your roll your hips against his manhood, leaning your head back against his shoulder. 

“You’re just too small, aren’t you?” he whispers against your cheek. 

You meow a soft sound that confirms his words. 

“Won’t even fit in you. Need to stretch out you for me,” he says, hands traveling down your stomach. “Can you even take two fingers?”

There it is, the degradation. But it’s so tender that you can’t even believe your own ears. You mewl again, finding it so hot that he talks to you like this, knowing you took three of his fingers the last time he touched you. 

“I can,” you say and there’s allure to your words, your pussy grinding against him. 

He hums. Maneuvers you a little so his cock sits against your ass. Plays with your slick just to hear the filthy sound before he plunges two of his fingers inside of you. He curls them and is brutal as he pistons into you in fast jerks, the muscles in his biceps bulging. With his free hand, he makes sure you gaze at him and he nudges his nose with yours. His short breaths fan against your cupid’s bow and in return, you feed him your moans. He swallows each and every one, his pace never faltering, his eyes never leaving yours. 

Your stream of pleasure shoots out onto the coffee table and Jungkook would miss it if his reflexes didn’t act out for him. He groans, strumming his fingers against your clit to prolong your orgasm, lifting you to ram his hard length into you. 

You welcome him embarrassingly fast, smothering him until he’s fully sheathed inside you. Because he entered you mid climax, it triggers another one and you scream, thrash your body that he encages with his arms around you, one hand flying to your neck to keep you down. He presses his lips against your temple, lulls you with gentle sounds. Mutters apologetic words, words of encouragement, praise and reassurement. All while ramming his cock into you. 

You’re forgetting the day and time. Hell, you’re forgetting your own age and name. All you know is dick. 

His dick splitting you open as your head knocks back and forth. 

He squishes your cheeks, pressing a kiss there, and it brings you back. You open your eyes, blink a few times. Yelp as he fucks you deeply and holds. 

“You’re taking me so well,” Jungkook husks. “You always squirt for me, don’t you?” 

You nod, dumbly. He plunges his fingers into your mouth to gather your saliva and takes them down to your clit. He rubs it, and he rubs it in fast circles. His other hand finds the soiled plushie and he crams her into your arms. You cuddle her, needing the comfort. 

“If I had a vibrator, I’d keep it right here on your little clit the whole time and break you fucking apart.” 

You clench around him, signaling him how much you like the idea.

“I know you’d like that. The thought of it won’t let me sleep. Might have to get it for you after all.”

Your surroundings are foggy. Another surge of orgasm reaches for you to get you. Your whole body shakes. You hug the plushie tighter. 

You prop your feet on his muscular thighs and weakly, you snap your hips down on him, setting a steady pace that makes you see stars. 

Jungkook ceases your movement. Grabs your waist tightly. 

“Stop or I’ll come.” 

You fight against him, pushing down on him. He lets you. 

“You want Daddy to come for you?” 

“Yes, please, I’m so close,” you squeak. 

“Hold onto her then.”

He meets your thrust, groans at the impact, at the teamwork. Has a deathly grip on you and Hello Kitty that bruises you, stills you as he ruts into you, his balls slapping against your sensitive, abused femininity. You’re losing everything; you’re losing yourself in him, in his manhood, in his desire and pleasure. Submitting all that you are to him, willingly giving over all that you have left of your being. Knowing it will be safe, knowing you will be taken care of. 

And with that you come, and you come hard. You coax his orgasm, beckon it out with the one final clench of your pussy around him. You milk him dry, stars clouding your vision and the warmth of his hot spurts of cum filling you to the brim. Jungkook whines. 

He loses it completely. 

Babbling sets of incoherent words against your cheek, he kisses you there, drags his kisses down to your jaw and your neck, squeezing you and Hello Kitty in his arms as his cock stays sheathed inside of you. 

Two things you do make out when you come down. 

A string of pet names directed to you. A bunch of ‘baby’, ‘princess’, ‘little girl’, all held close by the prefix of ‘my’. Held as close as he holds you. 

And something else entirely.  

“I love being inside of you. Whether it’s with my fingers or my dick. I don’t care. I just love being inside of you. You feel like home.” 

He strokes your hair, over and over, from the side like that. From the crown of your head, past the curve, down the side of your neck. All while kissing your skin. Tiny little kisses that soothe you, lull you into tranquility, prove you utterly wrong. 

But you’re still delirious from your high. You don’t realize what he said. 

You don’t realize that your home isn’t within the walls of that bookstore but within the arms of the man that holds you. 

And you don’t realize that he feels the same way.

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist / read part one, read part three

[wonderlandwalker]

Living Nightmares | Finnick Odair x Reader

THG Masterlist / Taglist / Inbox

Summary: Finnick wakes up to find you slipping away from him. As he tries to get help, he loses track of you, only to find you in the hands of the careers. The situation seems to get worse before he finally thinks he's at peace, but you're there to remind him to keep going.

Content Warnings/Tags: angst, a whole lot of it, fluff at the end though I'm not a monster, mentions of blood, hypothermia, violence

Word Count: 3.4k

A/n: I've been obsessing over our boy Finnick so here's a fic full of angst, because apparently that's the only thing my brain can think of. Dividers by @chilumitos

This wasn’t exactly where they had thought they’d be at the moment. It all started during the second day in the arena, they had the allies, they had the supplies, and they thought they had the advantage, but worry took over as they started losing sight of each other in a chase, and they tried to find the others, only to end up in a new part of the arena. It was dark, cold, and they had lost their supplies, and there was no food or water source nearby.

Neither of them was really to blame. It had been a long day, and the surroundings didn't inspire much hope. So, both of them had fallen asleep on some of the leaves that covered the ground. The cold air was still blowing around them.

But at least he wasn't alone, two sets of minds were better than one, at least he still had you.

The rising sun urged him to open his eyes, and he stretched out his arms, which had become stiff from the cold. It was only when he sat up and ran his hand through the hair that had fallen in your face that he noticed how cold you were. He quickly got up from behind you, pulling you into his lap, tilting your head up a little. Your skin was almost as white as snow, and your lips were starting to turn blue. The colour that once held so many fond memories of the ocean and the sky, now being replaced by fear and panic. He shook you lightly, trying to wake up as if you were just sleeping deeply. When you didn't react, he called out for you, his voice laced with concern.

“Y/n? Come on love, wake up.” But the only movement that came from you was your arm falling from where it was, the harsh thud to the ground reinforcing his fears.

“No, no come on. This isn't happening, wake up” Finnick had thought about this happening, how could he not when it was the basis for most of his nightmares? But he always woke up from those to find you resting in his arms, your soft breathing comforting him back to sleep. This time he didn't wake up, and he didn't hear your breathing to soothe him. He checked your pulse for a heartbeat, but all he could feel was his own heart racing in his chest. He looked around him as if there would be someone there to help, but you were alone.

He started CPR to try and quicken up your pulse, to get you to breathe again, and while he knew you probably couldn't hear him, he had to try.

“Do you remember when you came back from your first games, I really thought that had been the scariest moment of my life. When I survived my own, at least I knew you were alright at home. When you came back, I thought it was over, I wanted to see the positive side, but you seemed so weak, and having watched you, I knew how bad of a state you were in. It tore me apart to have to see it and not be able to do anything." His voice cracks a little, his head starting to swim with more thoughts.

"I won’t do this without you. You can't leave me now, not like this." He pushes a little harder on your chest while doing compression. He's sure if he does so anymore, he will crack one of your ribs.

"I imagined us getting married. I imagined proposing to you by the lake, that little spot you showed me, I know how happy you were in the middle of the field of dandelions. Every worry seemed to slip away from you, like a little hideaway from the horrors of the world. That's how you make me feel every time I'm with you. It's like there is no one in the whole world except us. And I know how cliche that sounds, I know you never liked cliches, but it's true, you are my world, and there is nothing I wouldn't do for you.”

Right as he was about to pour out more of his heart to you, he heard a noise coming from the distance. The steps were too heavy to be coming from a small animal, but his instincts also told him that whoever it was, they weren't there to help.

He knew he had two options. try and fight off whatever was coming while carrying the love of his life with him. Or keep you hidden, try and fight while distracting them away from you and coming back when the coast was clear. He tried his best to hide you underneath a blanket of leaves, making you disappear into the surroundings, he gave you a light kiss on the forehead, scared to get too close and feel how cold your skin still was. He heard the footsteps come closer.

“Just hold on a little longer darling, I’ll be back before you know it.”

And so he turned around, grabbing his trident a little harder than normal, and came face to face with one of the careers. Finnick's muscles were still sore from the night, but he was ready to run. He had to get away from here before the tribute started to wonder if he had been alone.

He ran towards a clearing, making the tribute follow behind him. He ran to a split in the path, which gave him two options, left or right. He heard rustling coming not far behind him, and his instincts told him to go right, so he did. He ran for a while until he reached a dead end, the line of trees becoming so dense he couldn't get through anymore. The tribute was still on his heels, and Finnick had to think fast again. He saw a body of water nearby and decided that diving in, despite the creatures that might be in it, and the chilling temperature it must be, would be better than certain death. He knew he would be able to outswim the career, it luckily being one of his strengths. He started to run towards it, and when he got to the edge, he jumped like his life depended on it, but it still wasn't his life he was worried about, it was yours.

Once he got to the other side of the water, he looked back, and the tribute was nowhere to be seen, probably having decided that the risk of the wild waters wasn't worth it. Finnick wasn't thinking about the relief of escape, all he was thinking about was how much time you had left.

It was by some sort of miracle he found Peeta, Johanna and the others on a small beach nearby, and he practically ran straight into them at full speed without even announcing himself. Once the others had realized it was Finnick, and he was not a danger to them, they calmed down, but the state of despair he was in did alarm them soon after

Peeta looked up at him, he was completely out of breath from how fast he had run.

“Sit down Finnick, try and catch your breath” He told him, while placing an assuring hand on his shoulder.

“There’s no time to sit down, I need to go back.” He spoke with such certainty it startled the others.

“Go back where?”

“ To the clearing, I don't know where it was, but I remember how to get there.”

“Why do you need to go back?” Johanna asked him, seeming confused.

“Because y/n is still there, and she doesn't have long”

The others didn't need to hear more, and started to pack up the things they had with them to follow him.

When they had made it back, Johanna was in front with Finnick, she wouldn't care to admit it out loud, but she was worried about you as well.

“Where?” She asked him

“Over by the cut-down stumps, next to the maple and the oak tree.” Finnick had memorized the entire area in order not to lose track of you, and with Johanna being from the lumber district, he knew this clue would be the most helpful to her.

“There’s no one here” she said, looking back at him frustrated.

“There has to be, she was right there when I left.”

“She might have been, but unless hypothermia comes with the power to turn invisible, she’s gone.”

“Well, she couldn't have left by herself” His mind was reeling with all the possibilities, each one more horrible than the last.

“Well then who took her, there are no drag marks, it wasn't any kind of mutt.”

“I don't know, maybe-” his eyes fell to the mud next to the fallen leaves, the ground here was in permafrost, it couldn't have come from here. When the tribute started chasing him he had already put distance between where you were and where he was going. They must have gone back after he went into the water to try and see if he had any supplies, and have found you. But your body wasn't here, that was a good thing, that means you must be alive, why else would they have taken you?

“They’re at the swamp”

“How are you so sure?”

“The career, he was alone when he chased me, he has to have set up camp somewhere with the others, it can't be far from here otherwise he wouldn't have carried her.”

“Alright, but we don't even know where that is, the swamp must be massive, they could be anywhere, we can’t just run in without a plan.” Johanna tried to reason, looking over to Finnick, only to realise he was no longer there.

“Where did he go?” Peeta asks her.

“Probably to the swamp, probably without a plan.” She sighed, she was annoyed, but couldn't say she was surprised, she knew he would do anything for you, including laying down his own life.

“How do we find him, we don't even know where the swamp is, y/n and Finnick were the only ones who crossed it.”

“You don't happen to have a map, do you?” Johanna asks, sarcasm heavy as usual.

While the others were trying to figure out where exactly Finnick had run off to, he himself ran into some trouble. He knew it was his fault for going in without a plan or any backup, but he had listened to his heart, not his head. His heart convinced him he had to find you, telling him that if he didn't find you and wake you up, he’d never be able to see your eyes looking back into his. His heart was telling him to go and save you, even though his head was telling him it was probably already too late anyway.

He wasn't paying close attention to his surroundings as he should have been, trying with all his might to find you. They had found him when he was distracted and from that moment on they kept trying to break him. He was tied with his back against a tree, most of his body covered in blood and a little dizzy from the loss of it.

“It’s very easy to figure out what makes you tick Odair” the district one tribute spoke to him. He couldn't see very far ahead of him, and he couldn't see you anywhere.

“What’s that supposed to mean” He was confused and angry. Confused about what they meant, why they hadn't killed him. Angry they kept him from finding you, from holding you.

“Don’t worry, you'll find out soon enough.”

And as if it was planned, right after the career had spoken, a loud, soul-cracking scream echoed around him. Finnick immediately recognized it, how could he ever forget? It couldn't be real, it had to be a trick, jabber-jays, something. But there wasn't a flock of birds around, and nothing would be able to replicate such a crushing sound. He tried closing his eyes, but when he did his imagination ran wild with images and scenarios, and it only made it worse. The only thing he could do to calm down was tell himself it wasn't real, even if he didn't believe it, repeating it like a mantra over and over.

“It isn't real, it isn't real, it isn't real.” It was nothing more than a whisper and most probably only a mumble of incoherent words.

“Oh but that's the best part Odair, it is real, and it's not gonna stop until you give us what we want. to know.”

“You’re lying” He spit out, barely able to say the next words without falling apart completely “I saw her die.” A single tear makes its way down his face as he tries to keep his composure, cracking now wouldn't do him or you any good.

“Are you willing to take that risk? She’s pretty feisty, I'll give you that, but if you don't crack soon and tell us where your friends are, she's not gonna make it.

He tried ignoring it, trying to listen to his head instead of his heart, but once again the attempt was futile. All he could hear was the screaming, even when he was sure it had actually stopped, the sound still lived in his head. It was hard to say which was worse, the deafening screams, or the silences in between.

He tried to think with his head, tried to think what you would say to him. It would probably be something along the lines of ‘don’t do anything stupid when I'm not there.’

It was far too late for that.

When the career returned, he had a smile on his face that seemed way too happy for the situation they were in.

“She’s strong, that girl of yours, that much is true. The question is for how much longer, everyone has a point of no return, and I have a feeling she’ll cross it soon, But you can make it stop, tell us where your friends are, and it’ll stop.” The tribute had bent down so he was face to face with him, and by the look in his eyes, he now knew for sure this wasn't a bluff.

Finnick didn't know where they were, they wouldn't have stayed at the beach where he found them or at the clearing where the two of you had slept for the night. And maybe it was for the best he didn't know, because right now if he was honest with himself, he would have told them anything he knew if they wanted it. He would do anything to get to hold you again, to feel the warmth of your body against his, to feel your lips pressed against his own. But the careers weren't stupid, he had no reason to believe they would actually let you go, and even if they did, he knew a part of you would never forgive him for what he would have done.

“This is a waste of time.” He screamed, silently hoping you were close enough and conscious enough to hear his voice, hoping it would be enough to tell you not to give up. He pulled at the ropes tying his hands together with all the strength he had left, knowing it would likely not achieve anything, but hoping for it nonetheless.

But it didn't make a difference, your screams didn't stop, and his heartache didn't stop. Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes turned into hours, up until a point where Finnick couldn't tell how much time had passed. It was difficult to keep track of time when you kept blacking out, but it was peaceful in the most morbid way. He didn't sleep, he lost consciousness, so he didn't dream. When he blacked out he had a moment of peace, a moment where he didn't hear your screams echoing around in his head. But he would always wake up and have to face reality again.

He couldn't hear his heartbeat anymore, he couldn't hear his breathing or his thoughts, all he could hear was the screaming and the cries, even though he wasn't sure if they were there or if his mind kept playing tricks on him. He had always feared this, but he didn't think that his worst nightmares would actually come true.

He looked down and saw a puddle of his blood staining the ground and the leaves he was sitting on. The last thing he heard before he blacked out again was shouting coming from the distance.

When he wakes up he can't see much, his eyes heavy and his body tired. But he can feel his cheeks getting wet, it’s a heavy liquid and he guesses it's his blood until he opens his eyes far enough to see you kneeling in front of him, your hands cupping his cheeks to lift his face while you're silently crying, the tears creating a clear path down the grime on your face.

“y/n?” His voice barely reaches a whisper, but you look up into his eyes immediately.

“Finnick, oh god, please wake up we have to get out of here.” Your voice sounds strained, and Finnick isn't sure if it's because of all the screams that must have taken a toll on you, or if the sounds have damaged his ears, he hopes for your sake it's the latter.

“No we don’t” He says with a sense of peace that doesn't match up with the predicament you're in.

“What do you mean?” You ask him, while trying to remove some of the blood stains from his skin, but failing miserably.

“We’re in heaven, aren't we, that's why you're here, I was hoping I would see you.” A sob from your throat almost interrupts his whispering, and he looks up to you again.

“Why are you covered in so much blood” He reaches out to touch your face ever so gently, as if he's scared you're only a figment of his imagination, and you could disappear anytime.

“It’s nothing, I’m alright, I’m more worried about you, you look like you could open your very own blood bank with how much you’re losing.” Your voice is shaky, and it matches the tremble of your hands.

“No need to worry about that, You're here to bring me to heaven, we’ll be together again, it’ll all be perfect.”

“Finnick listen to me! I’m not here to take you to heaven, I’m real and I'm right here in front of you and I need you to stay awake!”

Only he’s not responding to you anymore, his eyes closed again.

“Goddamnit”

You tried to lift him off the ground, but almost fell over once you got him upright. You weren't in your strongest state, and Finnick not being in any conscious state wasn't helping, his whole body weight leaning on you. You put your arm around his shoulder and put the other around his middle, trying to keep him standing so you could move. But with your hands busy trying to keep Finnick upright, you had no way to defend yourself. All the commotion must have alerted other tributes, but you didn't know how many there were to begin with, or who even started the disturbance that allowed you to break free. You thanked whoever was listening that the two of you made it out of the swamp without running into further trouble, and entered an opening of trees that finally allowed bright sunlight to touch upon your skin. You can hear footsteps close by, and prepare for the worst.

“We need to get the two of you back to the others” A familiar voice enters your ears, and you didn't know you could ever be so grateful to find Beetee.

You make your way to a lake not far away. When you get there, you refuse to leave Finnick’s side when Beetee had insisted you needed tending to as well. It was like an unspoken rule. Whenever one of you was hurt, the other didn't leave their side until you were sure they were going to be okay. But you weren't sure, and you weren't leaving him. So you lay down next to him, and the others knew it was useless to try and separate you.

After some time had passed, Finnick started to softly grunt and woke you up with him. Your face contorted in a mix of anger and pain. You leapt up into his arms. It hurt him a little with how tight you were holding him, but he didn't dare let go. Still a little afraid it wasn't real. But he could feel your breathing against his neck, hear you crying in his ear, and hear your heart beating in your chest, in sync with his, you were here, and you were okay.

[dumbsoftheart]

gibson girl

pairing: post-university!coriolanus snow x reader

tags: 18+, mdni. dark themes, heavy mention of drug and alcohol usage, abusive/toxic relationship, calls reader a bitch, degradation, cunnilingus, vaginal sex

summary: “obsession with the money, addicted to the drugs. says he’s in love with my body, that’s why he’s fucking it up.” you and coryo aren’t proud of the relationship you’ve built, but you both can’t seem to get enough of each other.

notes: yes this is a repost because i did not proofread this and got a bit embarrassed. this is probably my most crudely written work, sorry (not!), and for a lack for better words is not as carefully written as my other fics, but i hope you all like it <3 this is probably the last i will write for coryo aside from any continuations of past works for now so soak it all in!!!!!

word count: 3.2k

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in the dimly lit hideaway of pluribus’s nightclub, where pulsating lights of reds, purples, blues, greens gleamed kaleidoscopically against the writhing mass of glittering bodies and thumping music, stood coriolanus snow. he hated the affair, being clamoured in the sweat and smoke of dancing strangers, a complete infiltration of his personal space, and far too stuffy for anyone’s comfort. it was an incongruous occurrence, his presence in the glitter-drenched revelry. clemensia had tormented him that day, with piercing whines of “but it’s your birthday!” and “won’t you ever have fun?”, and there he was, ludicrously dressed in slacks and a half-undone button-up shirt, courtesy of a drunken sejanus, traces of glitter— which he despised, smeared across his face and neck. when arachne had showed up and rubbed her lustre infested fingertips all over his clean-shaven face, he’d wanted to kill her right then and there. he sat there,  wide-legged in the private section of the club, fiddling with a half empty bottle of champagne with happy birthday! streamers dangled across his shoulders. he’d had about three of festus’s liquor concoctions, with their repulsively sweet maraschino aftertastes, but amidst the chaotic symphony that had his head spinning, there existed one exception to his distaste for the ordeal—a vision he couldn't bring himself to detest: you.

festus sat next to him, head nodding and lolling to the side from inebriation, and coriolanus kept a distant eye on clemensia and arachne as they disappeared into the dense crowd of hot, glittering bodies. his body yearned for the solace of his bed, plagued by the ache of alcohol and half-hearted dancing that numbed his legs, and the variegated torment of the club's vibrant lights— and then there you stood.

adorned in a cascade of the remnant sparkles that had rubbed off on you as you danced, gold flakes carefully splayed across your eyelids, and a daringly short dress hugging tightly on your hips graced your curves as you moved without care among the chaotic company of the nightclub. when coriolanus watched you beeline into his peripheral, open-backed dress teasingly swaying as you spun in hand with one of your friends, smiling so bright you outshone everyone else in that godforsaken bar, his hands tightened on the bottle held between his legs, and he exhaled slowly through parted lips. 

the subtle reaction provoked a slight nudge and a cocky smile from festus, to which coriolanus rolled his eyes childishly at, fixing his gaze between his legs in an attempt to veil the growing want spreading through his veins. festus wasted no time in spewing some audacious insinuations about coriolanus and a hypothetical "dancing girl across the room" to a stumbling clemensia and arachne (“so every girl in here?” arachne had giggled, rippling a current laughter throughout the rest of the group and a juvenile grumble from festus). then, without warning, coriolanus pulled himself to his feet and pushed your way, propelled by a mix of inebriated bravado and annoyance, running a hand through his hair nervously as he (cutely) tried to dance his way to you. 

drunk and hazy, you wasted no time in latching your arms around him, flashing him a smile that had him feeling weak and guiding him to sway in tandem with you as the music blared and vibrated through your souls. you’d coaxed his hips to move in consonance with yours, and soon he’d figured out the rhythm you set, his hands delicately enveloping the contours of your waist. he was grinding his hips against the curve of your ass yours in a manner that was far too seductive for a first encounter and had you gasping lowly under the booming noise of music and conversation. 

by the end of the night, coryo had bid his friends goodbye with his lips half-attached to yours, and fucked you so good and hard you struggled to walk for a week. 

he returned the next weekend, alone, a halfhearted attempt to alleviate his stresses within the familiar embrace of the bustling speakeasy. he needed a drink, and he went to the first place he could think of. he had expected the place to be buzzing on a friday night, but he hadn’t expected to see you again. 

he hated smoking, but something about the way you slowly let the dense vapour of your joint escape your lips with a dimwitted smile made his cock twitch. with a swig of whiskey, he made his way towards you, snatching the long stick of cannabis from your fingers and taking a long, hot drag. in a fluid motion, he closed the space between you, blowing the smoke between the parted entrance of your lip-glossed lips with a light hand venturing to your waist. the night continued with you on his lap, high and dazed from both the weed and the delicious feeling of coriolanus’s lips on your neck, sucking and nipping dark marks onto the softness of it. he was marking you as his, and you loved every second of it. 

he coaxed you into a few more drinks, cooing words of dirty praise into your ear when you downed the dark liquor from his hands, whispering softly in your ear how much he loved your body, the sweet and sexy suppleness of it, and you became his, entirely. when he beckoned you to take another drag of a joint, you complied. when he whispered into your ear the order of his drink, you fetched it for him, sipping it lightly on his command, and when he bent you over the club’s bathroom sink and ordered you to spread your legs a liiittle further, you did. 

after that occurrence, it was like clockwork. he was downright filthy when he fucked you; he’d show up, tense with frustrations from work, and there you’d be, beautiful and seductive as ever, and he would fuck his tribulations into your sweet little cunt like his life depended on it. like he never got tired of it, he’d slowly drag the head of his cock over your slick folds, circle it around your clit and then pound into you sloppily. he’d mumble how dirty you were before loading you with his cum, then he’d flip you over and finger-fuck you to a blissful release, making sure not a single drop of his load escaped your throbbing hole. he especially liked fucking you in the clothes he bought you, ruining the expensive fabrics he splurged on greedily. you’d grown used to the gifts he’d send you. you didn't know how he’d found your address, but you couldn't find it in you to care. the plethora of dresses and jewellery and shoes he sent you, always tagged with a note, for my aphrodite, made up for it. you loved dressing up for him, to his tastes, because it made him desire you all the more. the minute he caught sight of you in his hand picked ensemble, it was impossible to get his hands off of you. he was addicted to you, and how easy it was for him to claim you. just like that, you were his, and he loved even more that you embraced it; showed him off. 

coriolanus hated the bright colours of the club, but he adored them on you. he’d always pick dresses and accessories that glinted brightly in the right light, and he’d set the dark private room to a cool silvery blue that was easy on the eyes. you’d dance for him, not because he asked, but because you loved it, and he’d sit smugly and watch, sipping on some dark liquor that you loved to taste on him before pulling you onto his lap with a small laugh and letting you ride him until the sun rose again. when you ground your hips against him, sucking him to the base, he’d string his hands through your hair and moan out pathetically, “i’m never gonna let you go, never gonna let you fucking go,” which was far too intimate for the relationship the two of you had struck, but it only drew your orgasm closer and made your heart swell, the bittersweet combo better than any drug you could take on the market. 

he was addicted to you, in every sense of the word. “takin’ my cock so well, baby, fuck” he’d choke out in a high pitched whine, nails digging even deeper into your ass as he slammed your velvety walls into him, “pretty fuckin’ pussy.. sucks me in like it needs me,” his thrusts would get sloppier, your pretty moans egging him on to coax more out of you to satiate his fix. in a moment of vulnerability, he’d peer down at you with his brows scrunched together, lips quivering and ask, “do you need me?” 

you were too dumb and fucked out to answer, just as he liked, and he loved to slide a lousy hand to rub circles on your swollen clit while he angled his fat cock in a way that made your body weak and drool escape from the corners of your mouth, and repeat the question until your body shook uncontrollably with pleasure. 

“n-need you so bad, coryo, fuck me so good, please, please” you would pant in your breathy, whiny voice, absolutely unintelligible, squirming and shaky. 

“tell me again, baby, do you need me?” he’d try to overstimulate the words he wanted out of you, searching your eyes desperately until you croaked out a small yes, and his head would fall into the crevice of your neck as you managed to take almost all of him simultaneously, moaning out as he came inside you. 

when things turned slightly sour between the two of you, it only fueled your aching want for each other more. you were insecure, desperate for his approval, and when you sensed a glimmer of his disinterest in you, you were quick to spark up an argument with him; the only way you could figure out to show him you care without explicitly telling him. it was toxic, and part of you loved it. you loved to rile him up, make him so angry he’d brutally grumble in your ear how much of a slut, whore, bitch you were. you loved when the two of you would go at it and he would force you into an empty room, ramble about how much he hated you while he pumped his cock into you at an agonisingly fast pace, and then bring you two to sweet relief with a barely audible i love you, please never leave me, and then send you home. 

he hit you, sometimes. it would always happen after sex, when his insecurities got the best of him and he’d strike another argument of his own to form some semblance of conversation with you, then be driven to madness by his own doing so severe that his hand would unleash upon your cheek, staining the soft skin of your mandible a familiar shade of red. when he slapped you during sex, you hated it. you had no means of fighting back and winning, so you combat him with your words. 

“you’ll never amount to anything, snow,” slap, and his hand grabbed at your tits crudely, “you can walk around this city and act like you own it,” another slap, then he’d wrap his hand around your neck as he made you cum until your body couldn’t handle it, “and you can try control everything,” slap,“but you’ll never be able to control what matters.”

you tried your best to dig at his biggest fears, vulnerabilities, anything to ignite that shimmer of pain in his eyes so he could feel a morsel of what you did for him. he was coldblooded, and it took more than a simple jab at his ego to make him bleed. you loved him. everyone knew you did, no matter how much you denied it, because you wore him everywhere you went. in your clothes lingered his scent, under them, his bruises, and you were irrevocably his. 

you knew how deep you were in after your final shred of patience snapped. coriolanus wanted to play it hard today? fine. and off you were, dancing like a whore in the middle of the dancefloor with one of coryo’s coworkers. he sat and watched you dance with a fire burning in his eyes, his teeth grinding painfully and his hand wrapped around his glass so hard it threatened to shatter (on another occasion, it did). then, when you’d snaked a hand down the drunken man’s abdomen, lip bitten and eyes heavy with lust, he’d grabbed you harshly and stormed out of the club into the cold streets of the capitol, and you smiled. the sound of your heels clacking against the pavement reverberated in your chest. you threw him a loud “fuck you!” as he tugged you out of sight from any passerby, then, without warning, you found yourself pressed up a damp wall by the neck, coriolanus’s thin fingers twisting painfully into your carotid. 

“you’re a spoiled fucking brat, you know that?” his hands plunged into your underwear, and he toyed with your clit dangerously fast as he stared you down.

“did you want to fuck him?” the way he spat at you made you squeeze your thighs together. you smiled, mouthing a slow ‘yeah’, groaning when his grip around your neck tightened and your body became lax from the lack of air and his fingers on your dripping pussy. he dropped you, stroked a loving hand through your hair then grabbed your jaw, forced it open, and dug his two fingers down your throat.

“do you think he can fuck you as good as i can, you bitch?”

you gazed up at him, eyes wet and hazy and fucked out with lust, and mumbled with a smile, “mhm..”, he forced his fingers deeper, and you moaned. 

“don’t fucking lie,” tears streamed down your face now as you struggled to breathe with his fingers shoved down your throat, and your eyes widened as you heard the familiar sound of his belt buckle, “can he make this pussy cum as hard as i do, hm?”

he hitched your dress up, pushed your panties to the side forcefully, and lined his tip with your entrance while he awaited your answer. you shrugged, slowly becoming dizzy from gagging on his slender fingers, whining from the absence of his touch, and he growled angrily as he began to pound into you relentlessly. 

he removed his fingers from your mouth to slap you wide across the face, the slick of your saliva on his fingers causing them bouncing painfully on your cheek, and your smile grew further. 

“yeah, you fucking slut, this what you wanted? for me to fuck the sense back into you?” 

coryo liked it messy. he loved berating you, degrading you, arms wrapped tightly around your torso and feeling your cunt grow wetter on his cock as he did so. he loved to make you an embarrassing, babbling mess, then force you to watch as he bullied his way into you, a rough hand in your hair as he pumped his cock with an inhuman fervour. 

“you like that don’t you? keep watching.”

“fuck, coryo!” 

“thats right baby, let ‘em hear who you belong to.” 

you pressed your forehead against his, panting heavily through parted lips as you kept your gaze on those sapphire eyes of his that you adored, mumbling incoherent pleads and apologies as your release approached. 

“are you going to listen to me?” and with a tear-inducing orgasm, you shrieked cries of yes, coryo, fuck yes! into his shoulder, biting harshly on his pale skin as you tried to quiet yourself.

you walked home that night, panties soaked with his cum and a few new bruises to remember the night from. 

this was the routine the two of you had settled in. neither of you were proud of it, neither of you liked it, but neither of you knew how to do it any differently. you didn’t know how to love unless it was through petty quarrels or you were too high to remember the feeling. coriolanus didnt know how to love unless constituted of complete, whole control of you-- and you couldn’t bear accepting his love like in that form, not sober at least. so you let him. you let him destroy you, bit by bit. you would pump yourself full of any and all drugs you could find, down the glasses upon glasses handed to you on his lap, and the two of you would love, the only way you knew how. 

when things were like that; desperate and full of unspoken feelings after a tense week of not seeing each other, the private room the two of you often booked would glitter a dark red light, flickering radiantly against the sequins of your dress, and the pearly blonde of his hair; and you’d stand above him, between his legs, stroking the soft hidden curls of his in a haze, feeling so good and loose from whatever he’d given you that you’d giggle without warning, lean close to him and press earnest, loving kisses to his lips in between mumbles of i love you’s. he would nod, tears welling in his eyes, hating how far he had to go to make you feel love for him again, and cradle your face in his hands, kissing you with every ounce of his being. you’d find yourself straddled on his lap, like always, kissing red marks along his neck and his shirt and chest gently as you comforted him, trying your best to wash away his worries and assure him that you did, in your own messed up way, truly love him. he’d flip you over, hook your legs over his shoulders and lap messily at you until morning came. he would do it forever, if he could-- get on his knees and devote himself to eating you out. his hands would grip your thighs like he was afraid you would slip away from him, and he’d rest his head on one of your thighs after making you cum for the third time, staring up at you, breathless, face glistening, and mouth parted like you were everything to him; before diving into the saccharine mess of your pussy again. he knew how to please you like the back of his hand. he knew how to edge his nose against your folds in the way that made you whine and thrash; he knew when to insert his fingers into your gummy walls, how to curl them in a way that had you come undone in a mere seconds, how to kitten-lick his way around your clit with a lewd moan, drag out long, animalistic groans from you that had you gripping his hair so hard you wondered how you didnt rip the follicles straight out his head. 

the relentless cycle of passion and pain that defined your bond, the late-night arguments that left scars deeper than their words, the moments of fleeting tenderness that were overshadowed by deceit and manipulation. whatever you and coriolanus snow had made had eroded into a relationship neither of you could understand, but neither of you could let go. you were each other’s life lines, so when he hit you, you thanked him, and when you dug your knife deeper into his heart, he’d tell you he loved you. even as he fucked you up, ruined you, you knew he was doing it out of love, and you were grateful. 

౨ׅৎ

@dumbsoftheart, 2023

[minisugakoobies]

Do you hear that, Hybe/JYP/KQ?? Hire me!! 🤣💕

[allwaswell16]

❤️ Heart Beat ❤️

An Advent Fic by @allwaswell16

Hideaway Haven is the place that Louis has always called home. It's also the place that Harry had tried to leave behind him. When Harry returns to start a music academy in his hometown, he finds himself face to face with his high school crush—and his charming daughter who wants to learn to play the drums. 🎄 35k ~ Now Complete! 🎄

🥁 1 🥁 2 🥁 3 🥁 4 🥁 5 🥁 6 🥁 7 🥁 8 🥁 9 🥁 10 🥁 11 🥁 12 🥁 13 🥁 14 🥁 15 🥁 16 🥁 17 🥁 18 🥁 19 🥁 20 🥁 21 🥁 22 🥁 23 🥁 24 🥁 25 🥁

Now with a bonus chapter... ❤️ 26 ❤️ A Valentine's Day time stamp

{ Incredible moodboard by @nouies }

[jackandspaghetti]

not a vacation. (jack hughes x female reader, smut)

summary: they just wanted to get freaky w no distractions, life is hard. and jack has been too, so these two goofies needed some satisfaction! they figured a hotel was the way to do it. dont ask me, im just the messenger. this was written via divine inspiration.

warnings: sex (p in v) unprotected (assume bc), praise, idk man this is my first time im a virgin to writing smut

other notes: random context, i think Y/N is in college for this and also she is living w jack. its a fic bae don't read into all that too much

wc: 3k

Y/N and Jack are finally on vacation. Well, it’s only for a couple nights, and they do not have plans to do anything. They really just wanted to get away. With all of Jack’s hockey stuff finally done for the season, and with Y/N’s academic year having come to a close, they just needed a break.

Originally, they were just going to spend time together at their own house. They do it all the time, and they certainly enjoy it, but that did not feel like enough of a reset. Their families could still show up at their door at any moment, or even solicitors were enough to ruin their peace in each other’s company. So, they decided they would go to a random town not too far away and stay a few nights in a hotel. Somewhere that their families would not find them. Somewhere quiet. With few tourists. A place where there would be little noise to distract them, and few people to be distracted by the noise they would inevitably make together.

Anyway, this was not really a vacation. It was a desperate retreat to a place where Y/N and Jack could just immerse themselves in each other with no consequences or disruptions. Neither one even plans to leave the hotel for any reason except to quickly grab food or to stop at a convenience store.

The two check into their single-bed hotel room, a pretty nice one thanks to Jack’s being famous and everything. Neither one has brought many clothes. They don’t anticipate wearing them very often. The couple wastes no time in racing to their room for some privacy.

The minute they walk into their home for the next few days, Y/N throws her bags down and puts the “Do Not Disturb” sign on the door handle. Then she locks the door and spins on her heels to face Jack. They both seem to let out a breath of relief. They have both been terribly horny for days. Not that they haven’t had sex in those days, but their desire just keeps returning. They can’t seem to get a break from it for any longer than Jack’s refractory period. So here they stand, in utter silence, staring at each other with hungry eyes in their new little hideaway. Each one waiting to see if the other will make a move.

Suddenly, Jack lunges at Y/N and wraps her up in a passionate, sensual kiss. He is breathing heavily into her mouth and already sounding like a hungry man who will do anything for a bite.

“Ohhhh Y/N,” he’s kissing her deeply. At some point, he picks her up, because now he’s carrying her and pushing her onto the neatly made hotel bed.

She immediately responds, moaning into his mouth and wrapping her legs around him when he lifts her. She feels the way her panties are soaked through and at that moment, she is desperate to be wearing nothing. To feel all of his skin against all of hers. She whimpers, “Oh god babe I’m so wet.”

Jack is on top of her now. He grunts when he hears that, and he pushes his own hips down onto hers. They are both still fully clothed, but his erection is no secret when it’s pressing against Y/N. And he can easily feel the intense heat radiating off of her through her sweatpants. These respective sensations are enough to make the two of them moan together, on fire with want as they notice each other’s arousal.

Jack whispers, “Mmmm feel that baby?”

Her voice is whiny and a little pathetic with frantic desire. “Not sure if you’re talking about you or me, but I feel us both. Jesus Christ you’re hard. Ohhhh fuck.”

He chuckles a bit at her little display of desperation, and he slides his warm hands into her sweater, onto the even warmer skin of her stomach. His voice is gentle, soothing, but intimidatingly so. It’s clear that behind it, he is trying to control an unusual amount of arousal, a primal need to have Y/N naked and flushed and sweating beneath him. These images are flashing through his mind when he says, “All for you. God, look at you.”

His hands slide further, hiking up her sweater and revealing a bit of her abdomen. Y/N sighs as those familiar fingers graze her skin. She hears the quietest groan in Jack’s chest, and the sound of his pleasure in this moment, from just touching her, multiplies her own pleasure tenfold. His hands are on her bra. Her nipples are so hard that they are obvious through the padding, and both Jack and Y/N make a strained noise when he feels them.

Y/N starts to grasp his sweatshirt, arching her back a bit with desperation, and Jack knows neither of them can live like this a second longer. His own dick is currently being suffocated as it strains for this girl.

“Clothes are so uncomfortable, aren’t they baby?” he pulls her sweater off in a sudden hurry, followed by his own sweatshirt. The clothes end up somewhere, who knows, the only important thing is that they aren’t here.

She whimpers, “Yeah…oh my god…” as she feels utterly overwhelmed by his determination.

Jack’s eyes hungrily scan Y/N’s partially exposed body as he makes quick work of his jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping like he has been in this situation, urgently taking his pants off, many times before. He has. Then they are off and gone and no longer in the universe and he is only in his boxers, yanking Y/N’s pants off with a frustrated grunt.

She has not really been doing anything to help; she has just been watching him in awe, blushing at his urgency. She decides this is her chance. Y/N places her palm firmly against Jack’s hard, fabric-covered cock, rubbing a bit and relishing in the way it reacts to her. The way it seems to have a mind of its own, twitching and straining under her touch. Jack groans, very audibly this time, as he feels this and stares down at Y/N in her bra and panties, so beautiful and laying right beneath him. His voice is low, “I need you baby. I…” his voice drifts off, unable to think straight as he sees her looking so helpless for him.

Y/N finally speaks up, though the tension is so palpable that she can only manage a whisper for fear of shattering the moment. “Jack…” his eyes meet hers and she whimpers, “please, Jack.”

Normally, he would do a whole “please what?” thing and make her spell it out for him that she desperately wants him to fuck her. But this time, he is so hard that he just makes a noise in his throat and pulls his boxers off, setting his throbbing dick free. He runs his hands over Y/N’s bra before slipping them under her back and unhooking it, letting the cursed thing fall off her shoulders and throwing it into the abyss that is the world outside of this one embrace.

Y/N is immediately relieved and also sent into a fit of deeper arousal when she sees his cock, throbbing with need and dripping pre-cum, hard and ready to go, all for her. She doesn’t wait for him to take her panties off, she just lifts her hips and does it herself so that they are now both naked, stripped bare before each other and each one loving the other.

But forget that—this is about the sex.

Jack grabs her thighs and roughly pushes them wide apart, staring between them. He smirks, “Mmmmm poor thing. A pussy this wet can only mean you’re aching for me.”

A soft gasp escapes Y/N’s lips. “Yeah…” her breath is shaky, “it’s your fault.”

“All this? Plus all that was in your panties?” his voice drops to a whisper as he leans close to her ear, “I’m the only guy who can make you this wet, hm?”

“Yes.”

He seems proud of himself. Of course, he already knew all that, but that doesn’t mean hearing it is any less hot. His lips are just barely brushing against her ear, and she can feel his breath when he adds, “I’m the only one who can see this pretty thing? Touch you like this?”

This time, it just comes out of her. “Yes daddy.” She wasn’t even trying to do that. Something just comes over her sometimes when he acts like this, and her eyes widen when she realizes. Her face turns red.

But Jack isn’t bothered. He smirks. Almost chuckles a bit. He kisses right below her ear, sliding his hand down her waist and softly rubbing it against her stomach. Then, in that low, intimate voice, “Mmmm what was that?”

Y/N is losing her mind. She doesn’t know how he does all this when she knows he is equally desperate, but apparently her calling him daddy makes him want to mess with her. She’s not having it. She’s not too proud to say it again and make it a little more flowery this time. She sounds really helpless and a little louder when she responds, “I’m all yours, daddy. Take everything, I don’t care, just fuck me please.”

She doesn’t have to tell him twice. He lines himself up with her, purposefully letting his tip rub against her clit for a moment first. That makes her gasp. Then, “Sure, baby,” and he is pushing his dick into her, groaning a bit as the pressure and warmth of her pussy soothes his aching erection. “Shit, this is good.”

Y/N moans, her walls adjusting around him as she adapts to the sensation, and the feeling of being filled like that gives her face a glowy, though dazed, look. Her voice matches the look in a way, “Fuck…you feel so good daddy.”

“Mmm yeah?” he starts to slide in and out of her in a rhythm, slowly at first, “You like me on top of you, princess?”

He keeps going slowly, but starts to run his hand up her body, leaning in close as she whines, “Yes, daddy…ohhhh…” she doesn’t really know what to say. Her brain isn’t formulating responses when hes so close to her, touching her like that, fucking her like that, breathing on her skin.

“Good girl,” he slowly starts to kiss along her jaw, speeding up his thrusts just a bit. He seems to want this to last, but when he has been wanting her this bad, he has a limit to how much he can hold back. His lips eventually reach her ear, and he whispers, “This is where you belong. Right here under me baby. Your legs spread; your pussy wrapped around my cock like this.”

She gasps, then her exhale is just a moan. She starts to run her hands along his sides and his back, desperate to feel more of him as her breath becomes labored.

“Soooo wet…” his voice feels like poison, like it’s incapacitating her, but in such an addictive way; it’s like a drug. He grunts softly before speaking again, “and so, so tight…you feel like heaven, princess.” His hand reaches her breast and gently kneads the flesh as he starts thrusting his dick into her harder, though not any faster, feeling and relishing in the way her walls tighten and react to every adjustment.

Her eyes are fluttering as he praises the way she feels for him. Her nipples are hard, begging for stimulation when she feels his hand on her breast. It’s like he reads her mind, because in an instant he is teasing her nipple with his thumb, starting to plant hot, wet kisses on her neck. “Ohhhh…oh Jack,” she moans as he overloads her with pleasure all over, the sensations piling up and boiling over and causing her pussy to react, squeezing his dick for a moment as she arches her back just the slightest bit.

“Mmhmmm what about me baby? How does daddy’s cock feel?” His voice sounds rough, and he has to start fucking her faster. He needs more as he kisses and bites every sensitive spot on her neck that he knows so well, rubbing her precious breast with that one hand while his other arm is wrapped around her waist, supporting a bit of his weight against the bed. Her skin is hot and it’s all for him, “Tell me sweetheart.”

“Daddy…oh god it feels perfect…ohhh fuck it’s…mmm right there, daddy,” she whimpers as his dick rubs repeatedly against her g-spot, “so hard…fuck, you’re so hard and you stretch me out so good…” Her legs wrap around him, and she sighs under the weight of his warm body.

His mouth finds its way back to her lips, and now he’s moaning as well, making pleasured noises into her mouth as he fucks her hard and fast, feeling her tightness threatening to make him bust any minute now. He is panting as he speaks into the kiss, “Fuck, baby. Keep up that whimpering and shit.” He softly bites her bottom lip for a moment before he can’t do it anymore. He can’t focus on kissing her when her body feels like that. He adjusts his weight onto the other side and now the hand that was supporting him is all over her; it’s on her waist, on her breast, on her neck for a moment. Then it rests on her hip as he thrusts into her over and over and over again, watching the way her tits bounce from the force of his movements.

She does indeed keep up the whimpering. She is a moaning mess by now, her eyes closed more often than not, like her body doesn’t want to sense anything but this feeling. The warmth in her lower abdomen blooms like a flower, then spreads through her body like a flame. She is gasping with every breath, moaning with almost every exhalation. Y/N feels Jack’s cock staring to twitch inside her. She feels her own telltale spasms that come before orgasm too, crying out with pleasure, “Daddy!!! Ohhhhhh!!”

A small grunt escapes Jack’s chest with every thrust and his hand is gripping her hip so hard, squeezing the flesh like his life might depend on it. Their heavy breaths mix as he puts his face against hers. Sounds of panting and moaning fill the room, along with the sounds of the sheets rustling just slightly under their movements, and of course the sound of wet slapping as his pelvis repeatedly pounds into hers.

Jack speaks in a rough, strained voice, “I’m so fucking close baby. Oh, fuck you make daddy feel so damn good.”

Y/N replies frantically, almost pathetically, “Me too oh god me too. I’m gonna cum daddy oh you feel so good.”

He groans and speaks again, urgency in his voice now, though not replacing the sound of authority that has been there this whole time, “Fuck! Okay princess I need you to let go. Cum for daddy c’mon baby.”

If she wasn’t already going to cum just from the sensations of all this, those words definitely do the trick. She is suddenly arching her back and curling her toes, sweating and crying out in pleasure. Her orgasm hits her like a truck, causing her to convulse around Jack and writhe with the overwhelming feeling of it all. As for her face, her eyes roll back before they flutter shut, her mouth is open, her head tilted back slightly on the pillow, her cheeks flushed a bright shade of red. Y/N looks like the picture of female pleasure.

This doesn’t go unnoticed by Jack, who sees the way she cums for him, sees the way her face looks all because of him, and feels the way her pussy squeezes the life out of his dick. He pumps into her for only a second more before he grunts loudly, driving his cock deep inside her and groaning as he feels himself release.

Y/N sighs as she feels that familiar warmth filling her up deep inside, feeling his cock spasm as he empties his load.

Jack is nearly paralyzed for a moment until he is all done, when he collapses on top of her, his face buried right where Y/N’s neck meets her shoulder. He lets his dick slip out of her as he starts to soften. He places a gentle kiss right where his lips are resting against her skin, and then a slow, quiet groan is heard from deep within his chest.

Y/N smiles and tries to control her breathing. She weakly lifts a hand to stroke his hair and the back of his neck, feeling a small amount of Jack’s nut mixed with her own wetness slowly dripping out of her. She sighs and can’t hold back a little giggle, “So that was good then?”

He just wraps his arms around her tighter and nuzzles his face deeper into her neck as he groans again. Y/N laughs. She uses her free hand to soothingly caress his back, feeling his toned muscles under that lovely skin, “Mmmm I see. You’re speechless.”

Jack chuckles into her neck and gives her another soft kiss there before lifting his head to look down at her. He strokes the hair around her face a bit, “Pretty…”

She smiles, “Good sex too?”

He laughs and hugs her tightly again, returning to his newly declared home nuzzled in her neck. There is a slight pause before Y/N hears and feels a soft voice against her skin, “The best sex.”

She nods with approval and pride in herself, then responds with a whisper, “I love you.”

“I love you. I’m gonna fall asleep here.”

Y/N chuckles and continues to caress him. She was calling him daddy earlier, but normally that melts away and they are just their barest selves after the excitement. She whispers, “Okay then.”

She hears one last little grunt from him and her heart melts as he falls asleep.

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

billy the kid x possessive!reader and he realises that shes willing to do anything to keep him, billy likes it but is sorta lowk scared of reader lol. by the way i absolutely ADORED he's mine smmmmm, i loved the way you wrote it!!!!!! i watched the episodes you wrote about and its crazy how accurate and detailed you are when you wrote those scenes. much love mwah

Him and I || Billy the Kid x reader

A/n: I’m so so glad you liked it!! I put a lot of effort into that 😭 I was also listening to Him and I by G-eazy and Halsey while i wrote this and thought it was pretty fitting with the fic.

Warning: fem!reader, possessive!reader i think thats abt it! lmk if there are others

Wc: 457

Divider by @pommecita

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the quiet town. Billy the Kid leaned against the saloon railing, his eyes scanning the deserted street.

You appeared, strolling towards him with purpose, the soft glow of the fading sunlight highlighting the determination in your eyes.

Billy had always known there was something possessive about the way you regarded him, an intensity that wrapped around him like a shadow.

From the first moment you met, there was an unspoken understanding that he was yours, and you were not afraid to show it. It wasn't just the tender touches or the protective glances; it was the subtle hints that you would go to great lengths to keep him close.

One night, as you both sat on the porch of your shared hideaway, the dim light from the lantern revealing the lines on Billy's face, you spoke words that sent a shiver down his spine. "You know, I'd do anything to keep you, Billy. Anything."

He had seen that look in your eyes before, a mixture of love, possessiveness, and an underlying willingness to do whatever it took to have him all to yourself.

Part of him liked it—the idea that someone cared for him so deeply, body and soul, but there was also a fear that simmered beneath the surface. The untamed spirit in him was cautious, wary of being confined, even by someone as dear to him as you.

On another occasion, during a confrontation in a dusty saloon, a rival gunslinger had made the mistake of making advances towards you. The air crackled with tension as you swiftly shut down the unwanted attention. The way you glared at the intruder sent a clear message - Billy belonged to you, and no one should forget that.

Later that night, as you both lay in bed, Billy couldn't shake the feeling of both comfort and trepidation. He knew you'd defend him with every ounce of your being, but the possessiveness that fueled that defense was a double-edged sword.

As the days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, Billy could feel the weight of your possessiveness lingering. Whether it was the subtle grip on his arm in crowded saloons or the way you would keep him close in the quiet moments, he was acutely aware of your claim.

Billy the Kid, a man who lived on the edge of danger, found himself walking a fine line between embracing the warmth of your possessiveness and fearing the constraints it might bring.

Yet, in the quiet of the night, when the town slept and only the stars bore witness, he couldn't deny the truth — he was both captivated and slightly terrified by the depth of your devotion.

[pinkkittysaw]

HUNGRY LIKE THE WOLF

title is based off the song hungry like the wolf by duran duran

halloween night of horrors masterlist can be found here!

pairing: werewolf clive rosfield x f!reader

summary: your lover always disappears on the night of a full moon every month and you’re determined to figure out why

word count: 8,331 (don’t perceive me 🫣)

content: NSFW (minors + ageless blogs DNI you will be blocked) minor plot spoilers, monsterfucking, teratophilia, knotting, blood, choking, established relationship, slight dumbification, minor breast/nipple play, oral (f!receiving), unprotected p in v, creampie, size kink, manhandling, belly bulge/pushing, spit, slight overstimulation, multiple orgasms, scent kink, scratching, biting, one spank, hints of degradation, praise, pet names (sweetheart, darling, love) reader is wearing a dress

* i want to give a BIG thank you to @strawberrystepmom for answering all my anatomical questions and helping me through my writing process! she also has a werewolf fic of her own if you want to check it out ^_^

a/n: AND I LASTED TEN ROUNDS LIKE A FREAKKKKK LIKE A GGGGGGGGG. this was inspired by the beach scene with clive and jill, iykyk. I WILL NEVER BE NORMAL AGAIN THANKS TO THEM!!truly did not expect this to get as long as it did but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

recommended listening for this fic is MONSTER by lady gaga

divider by @/benkeibear

Waves crash at your toes from where you stand on the shoreline, and the fire you made from scattered kindling on the rocky beach crackles in the background, its golden flame shining bright against the navy blue sky.

You sigh, staring into the dark ether, hoping and praying for an answer to your troubles. The cold water laps at your feet, manifesting a shiver in your spine that flows throughout the rest of your body. Grumbling, you glare back at Metia and the full moon with disdain, acting as if the two of them were in cahoots with each other, taunting you. You huff, shoving your arms to your sides with clenched fists as you continue to bitch, arguing with the moon and stars above.

"You're not even going to help me? Even though you're the cause of all this?"

Your index finger is shoved into the sky, pointing directly at the hunk of rock that floats within it, and it's not long after that gust of wind blows through you, billowing through the skirt of your pale dress, causing it to fly in right your face, a protest of sorts in response to the little tantrum you were throwing.

You fold the fabric back down onto your legs, holding its hem while letting out a snide, "Well, I hope the two of you are enjoying yourselves," before you turn your back in defiance and slosh through the ankle-deep water toward the fire, choosing to settle down on your bed roll for the night.

You shouldn't be surprised. All your prayers turned out to be for naught; it'd be foolish to think that this time would be any different.

You pout and pull your knees to your chest, settling your cheeks on the joints of your legs as you stare into the fiery embers, the sand scratching the skin between your toes as they curl into the seashore. You had long since forgone your sandals, as keeping the granules out of the material proved to be a losing battle.

"This was such a foolish idea," you mutter to yourself, choosing to reflect on the actions that brought you here.

You and Clive had been courting for several months now, and in that time you began to notice a particular pattern he developed. During the three days surrounding every full moon, he always disappeared without a trace, unable to be found anywhere in the hideaway.

It wasn't uncommon for Clive to be away from the hideout; if anything, he was probably away from it more than he wasn't, always coming to someone's aid. As long as they roamed the lands of Valisthea, he'd be there.

But after three separate occurrences of him disappearing around the same set of circumstances, it began to look less and less like a coincidence and more like a habit. The first two times he "vanished," you had attributed the cause to "business as usual," assuming he was off assisting the curse breakers or aiding in the transportation of recently freed bearers, but the longer the two of you stayed together, the more prominent his disappearances became. 

You had confronted him about it once, apprehensively inquiring if he had taken on another lover during his time away. You heard the tale of his time in North Reach before he, Cid, and Jill eventually set their sights on destroying Drake's head. Maybe he'd found a courtesan at The Veil on his returning trip to Sanbreque after word of Isabelle needing his assistance came in.

He immediately shot the notion down, sympathizing with your cause of concern. He reassured you that you were the only one for him, and you believed him, of course. He's been nothing but loyal and devoted to you throughout your whole relationship so far. Even Jill stepped in and vouched for him at one point, stating that "cheating was far beneath him" and that he "treasured you more than anything else in the realm."

Yet he still didn't do much in providing an actual explanation for where he was going, stumbling through an excuse about the Mothercrystals and needing to stay away for your protection, but the risks of danger hadn't stopped him from brainstorming strategies with you before, so why now all of a sudden was he coddling you like a child? If not a secret lover, then what else could be hiding from you? Not even the collection of books residing in the Shelves provided an answer as to why your lover would disappear for three days time every full moon.

The longer this went on, the more you assumed everyone was just taking the piss out of you. Sure, most people in the hideaway were often busy with their own assignments, but you couldn't have been the only person who noticed a similar pattern of behavior, right?

You took to asking people around the hideout if they noticed a change in Clive's demeanor, with most of them stating that he'd been acting as he usually would, nothing out of the ordinary, while some others, mainly Tarja, thought it'd be funny to get a bit cheeky with you, commenting, "Wouldn't you be the one to notice if he was behaving strangely?" She means no real offense, so you try your best not to get frustrated with the more empty answers you're handed. It wasn't their fault that your lover was so cagey about his whereabouts. It's not like they were his keeper, as he was the one everyone answered to. You even took to inquiring Otto about it, though it didn't prove to be any more fruitful as he spat out the same Mothercrystals excuse as Clive did.

Your last and final hope was Jill. She had known Clive the longest—since they were children; if anyone were to have insight on what was going on with him, it'd be her, but you're met with similar responses as Clive and Otto. An apprehensive look crossed her features when you asked her if she knew why Clive was disappearing each month or where he went. She simply shrugged her shoulders, shook her head, and stated that she hadn't noticed anything strange going on with him, which only proved to make you more suspicious. 

Having had enough of the unanswered questions, you decided that the (not-so) smartest thing to do would be to take a little trip during the week of the full moon and not tell anyone. Was it a bit selfish? Desperate? Yes, but you rationalized that if you disappeared during that time, Clive would have no choice but to come out of hiding and look for you, thus leaving you free to discuss his whereabouts. It definitely wasn't the most well-thought-out plan you've ever come up with, but the lack of transparency was beginning to drive you mad.

The next few weeks were spent making preparations for the trip ahead in secret, taking on extra assignments to save up gil so you could spend a few nights at an inn. The night before your departure, you decided to take on all outstanding alliant reports on the bulletin while everyone was asleep so that you could circumvent a scolding from Otto about skipping out on your duties when you returned.

Early to rise the next morning, you gather a small pack of your belongings and shuffle off toward the pier before Clive awoke, careful to slip from his gentle embrace so as to not rouse him from his slumber. You glance down at his sleeping face, taking in how peaceful he looked while resting.

You gather your pack and make your way toward the boats. The sunrise on the open water is a stark contrast to the scowl that Obolus greets you with so early in the day.

"Good morning!" You beam, your smile shining brightly in his direction, as you carefully step onto the ferry.

"Someone's rather chipper this morning," he snickers, preparing to set sail in the blighted waters.

"You could say that," you respond, taking your seat on the wooden boards as the vessel starts to bob in the water and glancing back as the hideaway comes to life, everyone beginning to start their day.

When choosing a destination for this little excursion, you soon realized that there was only one correct choice, so you set your sights on Rosaria, having expressed wanting to return there to Clive before, so if he truly knew you as well as he claimed, he'd have no trouble finding you.

The majority of your time was spent at Martha's Rest, helping her out with the ever-growing cray claw population that seemed to be terrorizing most merchants traveling in the area. It was peaceful, with most nights spent exchanging tales with the locals over pints of ale.

On the day before the full moon, Martha half-joked about keeping you stationed with her, finding your company to be most pleasant, and though you couldn't make any promises, you assured her that you would stop by whenever time allowed.

It was only on the night of the full moon itself that you decided to take to the sea. The salty air and crash of the waves gave you a sense of tranquility unlike any other. It was almost as if you could sit back and forget all the horrors of the world around you.

As you draw swirl patterns into the sand with your finger, you begin to wonder if Clive will ever find you. Maybe he never even realized you were gone, and you'd be forced to return home with your tail between your legs, not having gotten any closer to the answers you so desired.

Unbeknownst to you, though, Clive was actively on the hunt, having noticed your disappearance shortly after your departure that morning. The space beside him in bed was cold and empty when he awoke. Though confused, he didn't think much of it; sometimes people are being sent away as reinforcements without much notice.

His day went pretty much the same as normal, though an underlying discomfort lay deep within him, wishing to share details of upcoming plans with you but being unable to.

It's not until you don't return that evening that he begins to get antsy. Deciding that he doesn't want to come across as overly possessive, he manages to hold his tongue, only voicing his concerns about your absence that night at the ale hall during supper, his dining mates recounting that they haven't seen you but to "not fret as you were probably just sent away on an overnight assignment."

He nods, taking some solace in their words as he sips from his mug, washing down the food. They were probably right; you were just off helping someone somewhere, but knowing that doesn't make his restless nights go by any easier, leaving him to toss and turn in his sleep without you.

It's not til three days go by without so much as a whisper of your whereabouts that he decides to go looking for you, finding one of your undershirts and stuffing the material into the pouch on the back of his belt. He goes out in search of Otto, hoping to find some information in regard to your whereabouts, but it's when he comes up empty in regard to your station that he really starts to panic. He informs the elder man that he'll be out for an unspecified amount of time and to make sure all missives are delivered to his desk upon his return, then storms off to the pier with a look something fierce in his eyes as he demands Obolus take him to where you disembarked. Obolus, not wanting to argue with a clearly pissed-off Clive, rows him to the destination.

You're distracted from your wallowing upon hearing a shrill howl in the distance. Quick to refocus, you swivel your head back and forth in all directions to try and determine the location of the sound. That's when you see it—a dark figure perched upon one of the nearby cliffs. The midnight sky shrouds the size and shape of the creature, though its piercing azure eyes remain distinct amongst the sea of black, piercing right through you from the tall height. 

Just as quickly as you make eye contact with the creature, it lurches from its spot on the cliff, prowling toward you like a predator honing in on its next meal, sniffing as if it smells your fear and your very blood running cold. Only when it's within range of the fire's flame are you able to tell what lingers in the dark. A wolf. Its fur is as dark as a raven's feather, black like soot, and much different from the standard mix of greys and whites of the usual worgens. Rosaria was no stranger to wolves, but they were never of this magnitude; its body was almost double the size of the usual stray. You're confused as to what it was doing so far out from the greenery; was this a newly created breed? Made solely for the purpose of hunting lost damsels wandering the coast at night?

As it draws near, you're unable to look away, its eyes drawing you into a trance, captivating yet familiar, almost as if you've seen them before.

It snarls at you, its ears and lips drawing back to expose the glint of sharpened canines that await you, its tail sharp and stiff, a warning sign: DANGER! DANGER!

You scoot backward in the sand toward your sword, buried in the sand. The wolf is still approaching just as slowly, its bark and growls echoing off the ocean and ringing back into your ears. Was this how you were going to meet your end? Slaughtered and torn to shreds by a rouge wolf, becoming its dinner, never to be seen again while your corpse decays on an abandoned beach?

You feel the cold steel amongst the granules and unsheath your blade, drawing it slowly as you rise to your feet. You do your best to steady your nerves, your heart hammering in your chest so wildly that you're assured that the beast can hear its drum as well. Though skilled with a sword, the circumstances couldn't be more against your favor; the instability of the sand and poor lighting make it more likely that you'll topple over and impale yourself before ever slaying the creature.

It growls once more, rearing its hind legs, ready to pounce. You brace yourself for impact, taking your best stance as the wolf leaps into the air. You're knocked flat on your back on the bumpy terrain, your sword falling from your hand as the air is strangled from your lungs, your body aching from the collision. It stands over you now, nose to nose with the beast that'd be your undoing. Its drool leaks onto your face; puffs of air are exhaled and manifested into the ether as it breathes in and out. You clench your eyes shut as it leans closer, praying that your death will be swift when you feel...a lick?

The long, fleshy tongue makes a slobbery mess of your cheeks and face as the wolf wags its bushy tail back and forth. This was bizarre, but you'd much rather be covered in sloppy hound kisses than be torn to shreds, so you accept your strange fate while continuing to giggle.

"I never expected to make a friend all the way out here," you coo, giving your best baby voice as you scratch the hound behind the ears.

A few moments later, you're blinded by a bright, pale light, transforming the once yipping black wolf into...Clive? Or at least you think it's Clive. It looks like him, the figure possessing the same crystalline eyes and dark shaggy hair, yet he still looks vastly different, as if he were half-beast, retaining the increased height, bulk, and hair as he did in wolf form. The rounded, fluffy ears and sharpened fangs are still present as well. You don't even realize he's naked at first due to the amount of thick, coarse hair covering his body, only being able to tell when you catch a glimpse of the few more intimate scars that lay between the follicles, reflecting in the flame's light.

He falls to his hands and knees, scampering toward you, pulling you close by the arm for a chaste kiss.

"Ouch," you squeak, scuttling backward as something sharp pricks your skin. He's quick to pull away, and that's when you notice the claws extending from the tips of his fingers, curled and sharpened to a fine point.

"My apologies; I'm, uh, not used to touching people when I look like this." He reaches out to cup your face, frowning a little as you twitch backward at the sight of his large hand. His fingers are gentle as they caress the sensitive skin of your cheek and neck, not wanting to startle you further.

"What are you doing all the way out here? Where have you been? What if something happened to you? What if-?" He begins to question, losing himself in the possibility of what ifs

"Clive," you cut him off, raising your eyebrows to stare at him like he's just grown two heads. He tilts his head to the side, perplexed, while you ask, "Are you not going to explain what's going on with you?"

"You're... a beast."

He sighs, sitting back on his hind with a dejected posture. "This," he gestures up and down his body, "is what I was trying to protect you from."

His eye catches a glimmer upon your flesh, trailing from your bicep to your forearm.

"You're bleeding," he mutters, turning your arm in his grasp to get a better view.

"It's alright," you stammer, reaching up to apply pressure to the cut when he looms over you, extending his head and tongue toward the abrasion, lapping at it quickly. You're taken aback at first, quirking an eyebrow in his direction, but soon realize that this is his means of comforting you, in his own dog sort of way.  His tongue also maintained its wolf-like qualities—long, pink, and rough—yet it didn't feel too unpleasant on the skin. The cool breeze against the wet saliva on your skin creates goosebumps along your body.

He continues to tend to your cut til he's assured the bleeding has stopped and the metallic tang no longer gracing his tastebuds. He pulls back, sitting on his rear once again. "You still haven't answered my question."

"You haven't answered mine. I've seen a lot of freaky things in my lifetime, Clive, but this...this requires an explanation."

A beat of silence passes as the two of you sit in front of the fire, illuminated in its orange haze. A small breeze of wind blows through the both of you, the moon and stars shine down from above.

He exhales defeatedly. "I'm... a werewolf."

You scoff, finding the words a bit silly coming out of his mouth. "I'm sorry, what?"

"It's true.  I was turned that night at Phoenix Gate all those years ago. It was the only way I could've survived." He pauses, lowering his head and drawing his ears back once again. "I never found the person who turned me—I don't believe I ever will. Though sometimes I wonder if saving me was worth it, seeing as it turns me into a monster."

"Clive..."

He shakes his head, ruffling his fur, a toothy grin adorning his features. "Never mind that."

"Every full moon, I transform into this beast against my will. That's why I'm away so often. That and well..." His words trail off as his eyes make contact with yours across the fire, scanning your face and body.

"Well, what?"

"Nothing," he smiles, eyes softening as he continues to look at you. "Now it's your turn; what in Founder's name are you doing all the way out here?"

You chuckle timidly, heat flooding your face—the likes of which you hope he can't see as you scoot away from him slightly, wishing you could bury your head in the sand for reacting so poorly.

"It's silly... and dumb," you mumble, trying to wave him off, turning your back toward him in an attempt to hide any further embarrassment. He grabs your hands in his, the size of them eclipsing your own, while he pulls you closer to him.

"It's not dumb, not to me," he says, running a fur-covered finger up and down your cheek. "Besides, it can't possibly be any dumber than me turning into a wolf," he chuckles.

You sigh, closing your eyes in preparation. "I was getting frustrated with the lack of communication, so I decided to just..."

"Run away?"

"Aye." You hang your head low in shame, kicking up a cloud of dust from the sand with your toes, feeling stupid and childish for having reacted this way.

"I'm sorry for not telling you sooner. It wasn't fair to you."

"It's alright."

He cups your jaw, nudging your chin up between his grip so that you're both on eye level, his eyes much sharper than before. "It's not alright, love, we're a partnership. We're supposed to trust each other, and we can't do that if I'm not being honest with you. I'll do better from here on, alright? I promise."

You give him a sickly-sweet smile, nodding in agreement as he pulls you in for a sweet kiss.

"So how did you find me? I mean, I was hoping you would, but still, I'm curious."

"You really want to know? It's quite embarrassing."

"Now I most definitely want to know," you giggle, leaning toward him.

"Well, I uhm..." He becomes more bashful as he continues on. "I tracked your scent."

"I pulled one of your tunics from the laundry bin and used that to help me track you down."

"My scent?"

"Mhm," he grumbles, slowly leaning into you more and more, causing you to fall back on your hands as he draws near. "Your musk is very distinct. There's nothing else in Valisthea quite like it." He gets closer and closer, nudging his head under the skirt of your dress, getting incredibly close toward the apex of your thighs before taking a big whiff. "And oh, so addicting." Your eyelashes flutter in surprise, building heat throughout your body. This had to be some wolf thing, right? He never acted like this before.

You place your foot on his shoulder, pushing him back on his haunches, trying to shoo him away from under your dress with a subdued "Down boy."

He snarls faintly before wrapping his hand around your ankle and pulling you toward him, effectively dragging your body through the sand, scratching up your back, and getting the granules caught in your dress and hair. It'd take weeks for you to wash it all out.

He tugs on your leg til you're dangling in the air, holding you up as if you weigh nothing, yanking you higher and higher til your sweet cunt is pressed against his nose once more. He takes another huge whiff of your pussy and relishes in the scent that fills his nostrils. Your body contorts slightly, your abdomen tightening while you hold down the part of your dress that's fallen in your face, only to see him nosing at your underwear, licking his lips, and staring at you like you were a big piece of meat.

"I can smell you, you know," he whispers, licking a broad stripe against your folds through the gusset of your underwear. You can't help but thrash in the air, your back arching as the width of his tongue reaches every crevice of your cunt in one fell swoop. Oh, this was certainly different, but you liked it.

"I can smell your arousal, Founder, your scent is so addicting." He nuzzles into your pussy again, rubbing his nose back and forth over your clit through your underwear, grinning at your desperate mewls and whines.

"You smell so fucking good," he murmurs and delivers another broad lick to your panties, effectively soaking them with his drool. "And taste even better," he winks. "But your scent isn't the only thing I can sense. Your heart rate has increased quite significantly, as well as your breathing." Partly from fear but mostly from arousal.

another broad lick and a sniff

"You're probably debating whether or not it's okay to be attracted to me while I'm like this."

another lick

"Mmm, fuck," he growls as more of your essence pools in your knickers. "But don't worry, I can make the decision for the both of us." He gives an airy laugh.

another sniff

His claws graze the seam of your panties, slightly unraveling the stitching. "Please let me taste you," he pants. "Please don't deny me your sweet nectar."

"I've gone far too long without it," he mumbles as he begins to make out with your pussy through your underwear, while his claws start trailing over the rest of your body as you continue to hang in the air. Clive was never one to shy away from pleasuring you with his honeyed tongue, but this was a whole new level of desperation.

"Please," he pleads.

"Alright alright, just put me down. I'm starting to lose feeling in my legs." He grins and happily obliges, his tail wagging rapidly as he drops you slowly onto the sand by your ankle. You lean back on your elbows so as not to get any more sand in your hair, and spread your legs wide for him. He gets on his hands and knees, crawling over to you seductively before lifting the hem of your dress over your pelvis, exposing your soaking wet knickers to him once again. 

He smiles down at you, admiring the view of your disheveled state while dragging a claw on your inner thigh, making you shiver before he tucks the nail into the crotch of your panties, tearing them straight off your cunt with little resistance. The fabric is left in tatters beside you when you gasp, your slick folds now fully exposed to the chilly evening air.

He groans as he lifts your hips into the air, throwing your thighs over his broad shoulders as he makes eye contact with your bare cunt, all wet, spread, and exposed just for him. Your bum is in the air slightly as he settles himself on his elbows, his large hands wrapping around the plush of your thighs, his fingers digging into the flesh slightly. He gets on eye level with your pussy, the hairs on your mound drenched from his salvia. You look so appetizing to him that he can't fight off the desire to sink into your wetness.

"Do you want to know the real reason I stayed away all this time?" He asks, bringing his mouth closer to your cunt, nibbling on your inner thigh with his teeth, causing a slight blood trail to trickle down from the skin.

You whimper but nod your head in response.

"Your scent tempts me like no other." His rough tongue laps up the blood spilled from the nick he created, leaving you writhing for more pleasure.

"It'd take everything in me not to mount you right where you lay and take you as my mate." You groan at that, causing a chuckle to escape him while he continues to nip and lick at the skin surrounding your pussy, neglecting where you need him most.

"Clive, please," you whine, having had enough of his teasing and desperately wanting him to push you over the edge with that sweet tongue of his, so after deciding that you've had enough, he gives you what you so desperately crave: a long swipe of his tongue from your entrance, all the way to your needy, swollen clit.

You arch your back while he groans at the taste. Something about being in this form enhances his senses and the pleasure he receives from pleasing you.

He gathers a pool of salvia behind his teeth and spits it on your cunt before he pulls you even further into his mouth, swirling the wetness all along your poor neglected pussy. The change in texture brings you heightened pleasure as his tongue drags along your clit over and over, making you mewl and whine in his hold.

Your hips begin to buck against his face, and he's gentle when he pulls the sensitive nub between his sharpened teeth. Your fingers find themselves in his shaggy hair, curling into the roots, where you give a slight tug, pulling him even closer into your cunt. He groans into your pussy as more of your arousal leaks from your quivering hole.

He detaches himself from your clit, moving down to your entrance, where he laps at the escaping juices. It's like a drug to him, one that he simply can't get enough of, so it comes as no surprise when he wiggles his tongue into your tight hole to collect even more of your flavor on his palette. He pushes the warm muscle further and further in, slurping up every last drop you provide, not letting a single one go to waste. It's such a foreign sensation, but you can't deny the pleasure you derive from it when he begins thrusting it in and out of you, effectively fucking you with his tongue.

"Fuck, Clive," you moan as his efforts hasten, greedy for more of your flavor.

Your hips continue to rut against his face, clit knocking against his nose with every buck upward. You're whining, whimpering, and writhing all over the place while his strong, calloused hands keep your hips pressed against his face. He takes over for you and grinds your pussy all over his face while continuing to tongue-fuck you as you're reduced to nothing but whimpers due to the sensations, your cunt beginning to pulsate around his warm muscle as the whiskers on his face tickle your clit in ways you've never felt before.

His rhythm against you is brutal; your legs are beginning to shake and your toes starting to curl. A slew of pleas fall from your lips, begging him to bring you to your sweet release, and he's always been one to please. He growls out "cum for me" before suckling your clit back between his lips, hard.

You wail loudly as you see white behind your eyes, your thighs squeezing around his head tight while continuing to tug on his hair, slowly bucking your hips as you continue to ride out the rest of your high.

Clive keeps up his efforts on your clit, making your hips jolt as he overstimulates your poor pussy. With a simple tap on the side of his face and a muffled "enough," he lowers you back down again, being sure to cover your exposed sex with the skirt of your dress once more.

"That was..." you begin to rave, lifting your head up to meet his eyes only for your attention to be drawn elsewhere, particularly toward the protrusion from his lower half that's now sticking straight in the air.

Heavens above, was that his cock?

Your eyes are diverted once again as he begins licking his chops, swirling his tongue all around where your wetness graced his face. Poor thing, he always did get unbearably horny when eating you out.

You reach out toward him, wanting to provide some relief, when he backs away, shuffling in the sand.

"You don't...you don't need to do that..."

"In fact, it's probably best that you didn't."

"Are you sure? It looks like it hurts..."

His cock looked a lot different than usual. It was angrier, meatier, thicker, longer, his whole shaft red in color instead of the pretty pale yellow tone you're used to, and it was hard, so incredibly hard, with precum leaking down onto the sand below. You've never had anything like it before, but you knew you wanted it, and you wanted it BAD.

"It's alright, I can take care of myself when I turn back, besides, if we do this, I won't be able to stop myself, and I- I don't want to hurt you." He attempts to cover himself up from your wandering eye, but that serves to only work against him as he whimpers every time he bumps into his erection, his teeth digging into his lower lip.

You crawl toward him slowly, your hands and knees sinking into the sand as you move forward. "I trust you, I know you won't hurt me." You settle between his legs, dense, dark, coarse hair covering the base of his cock. "Let me make you feel good too," you mumble, grabbing his shaft with your hand. It's hot to the touch, with way more veins, the base more rounded and bulbous than usual. You pump him up and down slowly as he mewls and growls against your touch. 

"This is your last chance," he huffs. "I won't be able to hold myself back." 

"I want you just like this, Clive," you lean in, pressing a wet kiss to his lips while you continually stroke him. "Don't hold yourself back," you whisper, smirking against him as the two of you kiss some more, both beginning to pant into the other's mouth as the excitement builds.

He emits a low growl and picks you up by your hips, planting you down on all fours in front of him. The hem of your dress is torn by his claws as he lifts it over your bum, your cheeks on full display. His hand comes down with a swift SWAT to your ass, leaving tiny abrasions on your skin from his nails. Your body propels forward from the impact as you squeal, your pussy starting to drool with arousal once again. 

He leans himself over you; his broad body is heavy on your back as it casts a large shadow in the moonlight. You can feel all the hair that covers his legs as he presses into you, the follicles tickling the back of your thighs as he lines himself up with your entrance.

"I'd much rather take you on your back, spread you nice and wide, have you laid out all pretty underneath me like you always seem to enjoy," he murmurs in your ear, trailing his hand from your thigh to knead at your breast through your clothes.

"But unfortunately, your choice of locale for throwing this little tantrum prohibits that sort of thing."

"We wouldn't want sand to get where it doesn't belong, hm?" He removes his hand from your breast and interlocks his fingers over top of yours, where they've sunk into the sand. Though his hand is so large, he might as well be clenching his fist around your own.

He sniffs your nape, then presses a kiss to the back of your neck. "I'll be as gentle as I can til you're ready for more, alright?"

"I'll make this as pleasurable for you as possible," he coos. When he notices your body shivering, though he's unsure if it's due to the cold or nerves, he runs his free hand up and down your side in a soothing manner, in an attempt to help calm you a bit. He plants a sweet kiss and a lick on your cheek, and it manages to pull a short giggle from you, which he smiles at.

"I'm ready."

With your fingers still interlocked together, he carefully begins to insert himself, and it takes all of his will to not buck his hips and go balls deep inside you. The hug of your warm, wet walls on his weepy, swollen cock is almost too much for him to bear.

You bite your lower lip and grunt as he pushes in, feeling like you're being torn open from the inside out. He can sense your discomfort; your heart rate skyrocketing due to the pain. He's quick to move his other hand from your side to your clit, rubbing smooth, soft circles on the bundle of nerves with the pad of his fingers.

His ears pull back at your discomfort, and he nuzzles his nose into your neck further, trying to soothe you through more licks and kisses to your neck.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he whimpers, and your heart all but breaks at the sound.

The ministrations on your clit start to overtake the burn of your nethers and you encourage Clive to keep pushing in further. It's a prolonged effort, with him moving in short increments every so often til he was as deep as you could allow, stopping just short of the bulb inflating the base. He was already quite well-endowed, having little to no trouble bringing you to sweet bliss on his cock, but this was a whole new world. His cock felt like it now resided in your guts and that your guts were now in your longs. His girth, the likes of which you've never felt before. Your cunt strangles him with everything it has; every bump against your ridges fills him with pleasure.

Once he's as deep as he can go with minimal resistance, he brings you over the edge by playing with your clit. Sadly, there's not enough prep in the world that would make taking him an easier feat, but he's hoping that the now relaxed muscles in your cunt will make the whole experience more pleasurable.

He continues to coo and coddle you as you come down from your second orgasm of the night. The squirm of your smaller form against his fills him with amusement. There's something so primal about him mounting you like this, caressing your soft skin while making sure to comfort you through lots of kisses and nuzzles as he whispers words of affection in your ear. You're pretty sure your cheek is going to be rubbed raw by the end of this.

"You're such a good girl," he murmurs in your ear. "You're doing so good for me."

He stalls his hips while you gather yourself, collecting your thoughts as you try to bring yourself back into the moment. It's only when you give the go-ahead that he starts to move, taking care to make sure that this part is done with caution as well until you're accustomed to any sort of rhythm with his size.

Your fists dig deep into the shore as the veins of his angry cock drag along every single bump and groove inside you.

"Fuuuuuuuuck," you growl between your teeth, squeezing your eyes shut tight at his slow and methodical thrusts. You knew he was just making sure you didn't get hurt, but it felt like him going this slow and deliberate might actually kill you.

"Clive, you can move a little faster," you pant.

"Are you sure? I don't want to-"

"Yes, I'm sure just-" you clench down on him harder, hoping that will drive the point further. "Just please..."

"Alright then," he mumbles, settling his face on your shoulder, his big, bulky body still encompassing you. He moves his hand down to your hip, where his thumb draws soothing patterns into your skin while his hips start to rock back and forth. It's a slow rhythm at first, which admittedly you're thankful for, knowing that you'd probably regret telling him to go all out once you're forced to waddle to the infirmary and explain to Tarja why your nethers looked the way they did.

It takes everything in you not to groan out in pleasure, and after noticing this, of course, Clive goads, gaining a more steady rhythm, his pace quickening with every passing second.

"There's no one else here but you, me, and the stars, love."

"You can be as loud as you want." After heeding his proposal, you let out a loud moan into the open air, which echoes softly over the ocean.

"That's it," he praises, licking a stripe on your neck. It's not long before you feel the coil winding in your belly once more, signaling your impending orgasm. You attempt to reach down toward your clit when Clive smacks your hand away, replacing your fingers with his own as he rubs fast circles on the pearl.

He's grunting and huffing in tandem with your moans, the two of you fucking like wild animals as his hips snap in quick succession against yours. His cock glides against the soft, spongey spot deep inside you over and over with no end in sight. Your toes curl as your cunt squeezes down on him even harder than before, screwing your eyes tight as you brace yourself for the impact of your oncoming orgasm. The weight of his cock makes you see stars as you reach ecstasy once more.

"Fuck," he groans against you, digging his face deeper into your neck, inhaling the scent dripping off you from your sweat, your body lunging back and forth as he continues to fuck you. You presumed this would be the finale, but soon realize you're dead wrong as he grabs you by both hips again and sits back on his heels, effectively spearing you on his cock as your legs are spread wide over his thick, hairy thighs.

His claws come out to shred at the material of your bodice, ruining the fabric of your dress and making it so your tits bounce wildly with every powerful thrust he delivers underneath you.

Your body is akin to puddy at this point, your head resting against his shoulder as he bounces you up and down on his cock. His fingers come down to pinch at your nipples as you writhe against his body, the cool evening air making them hard as rocks while he plays with the rest of your body to his own enjoyment.

It's not long after that you find yourself on the brink again as you succumb to becoming his personal fleshlight, his thrusts unrelenting while he whispers more sweet nothings into your ear, his fat cock bullying your sopping hole. The crashing waves are the only sound capable of drowning out the squelch of your cunt from him fucking into you so well.

You cum again with a loud cry, your body falling against him as you fully lose yourself in pleasure, becoming weak and limp in his arms while he holds you upright.

"Think you can handle one more?" he smirks.

You nod and mumble incoherently while he stops thrusting, positioning himself on your bedroll to lay fully on his back.

Your legs are spread as wide as possible over his lower torso and hips, your sloppy cunt exposed for all the stars and heavens to see.

You tilt your head slightly when Metia and the full moon come back into view. You mouth a breathless "thank you" to them, as it seems your prayers for having Clive come to your aid were answered.

In your delirious state, he guides your hand down to your lower abdomen, right where his cock lies inside you. He then takes his other hand to the back of your head and eases your neck upward to look at the protrusion, his cock causing your abdomen to bulge out. You go a little cross-eyed at the sight, and he takes your hand under his and presses down on the bulge, which draws out a low whine from you both.

He snarls, "Can you feel how deep I am inside you?" You nod haphazardly, not able to do much else. He chuckles at your disposition and begins to slowly thrust back from underneath you.

"By the end of this, I think you'll be molded to the shape of my cock, your cunt ruined for anyone else." He laughs while you whine and writhe; his slow, languid thrusts not enough to drive you over the edge.

"Awwww, sweet little thing just wants to cum again, huh?" He mutters in your ear, smirking as you mewl, your pussy clenching down on him while he laps up your sweat.

"Alright then, darling, I'll give you what you want," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the side of your head before increasing his rhythm once more, his bulky arm coming down to scoop underneath your knees and pull your legs toward your chest, allowing him to reach even deeper inside you.

You do something unexpected; in your bliss-induced delirium, you bring his hand that's pushing down on your belly up toward your throat and wrap his thick fingers around your neck slightly. He huffs down at you, his body still hard at work, pounding into your sopping cunt.

"You want to be choked now, do you? This is new. Are you sure this is what you want, sweetheart? I don't want to hurt you." You nod as enthusiastically as your aching body will allow, closing your hands overtop his once again.

"Alright, alright, I get it," he chortles, slowly but surely pressing down on the sides of your neck, reducing the blood flow.

From behind, he starts foaming at the mouth, his thrusts getting more brutal both in pace and intensity. How he managed to last this long is beyond you.

He releases his hold on your legs and moves down to rub quick circles on your clit, his other hand squeezing down tighter as you get closer to release. Your hands come up to squeeze your own nipples, and the edges of your vision get hazy as you start to lose consciousness and feel extreme bliss.

"Cum for me," is whispered in your ears, and all of a sudden, your brain and lungs are flooded with oxygen as you experience the most intense orgasm of your life, letting out nothing short of a silent scream as your body spasms and arches wildly. The rush to both your head and cunt is greater than anything you've experienced before.

Clive keeps thrusting into you as he drives himself toward his own release, the bulb on his cock continuing to knock into you, ever so slightly entering you with every movement.

"Clive, w-what is that?" You rasp, your voice shaky from its extended use over the course of the night. He takes on a much more shy attitude after hearing your question, continuing to groan.

"It's m-my knot."

"Your what?"

"It's a wolf thing; it helps keep me inside after I... you know..."

"It helps with mating, but you don't have to take it if you don't want to."

You shake your head back and forth. "No, I want to. I want to take it."

"Fuck," he growls. "Are you sure?"

"YES," you wail.

"As you wish, darling."

It's a few short, sloppy thrusts later when Clive sinks his teeth into your shoulder, grunting and howling as he stuffs you full, pushing his knot fully inside you while he goes balls deep into your cunt, your pussy swelling and stretching to accommodate the excess girth.

"Heavens above," you cry, your back arching toward the sky as the tip of his cock kisses your cervix, ropes upon ropes of his warm spend shooting deep inside you as he's milked for all he's worth.

You both slump against each other in the aftermath, his hands coming up to caress your body. "We're going to be stuck like this for a while."

It's sometime later that you're snuggled up on Clive's body as you lay both bare underneath the stars together. His huge body keeps you warm while you twirl your fingers into his chest hair, his mouth coming down to press multiple kisses to the crown of your head.

"So you won't fully transform back until sunrise?"

"Correct."

"And you've been like this for over fifteen years?"

"Mhm," he mumbles.

"Where do you go for those three days? Clearly, you're not at the hideaway."

"Do you promise not to laugh at me?"

"Who do you take me for? Of course, I won't laugh at you."

He sighs, trailing his fingers up and down your back. "I actually go back to Rosalith. I've got a little den set up there."

"How adorable," you tease, making a kissy face at him. "You'll have to take me to go see it sometime."

"I don't think so," he smirks.

"Wha- why not?" You huff, an adorable pout forming on your face.

"Let's just say that I really wouldn't be able to hold myself back in that instance, but we'll cross that bridge when we get there." He presses a sweet kiss on the tip of your nose.

"Okay, okay, last question. Did you really mean all that filth you spewed about why you disappeared all those times?"

"It's partially true. All my senses are heightened, and you truly do become irresistible to me. Not that I'm any less attracted to you normally, but it's...different." He pulls you closer to his chest.

"Though I suppose I was mostly afraid that you'd look at me differently and that you wouldn't want to be with me anymore."

"Clive, I've watched you prime into Ifrit with my very own eyes; do you truly believe that I'd leave you because you transform into a hound?"

"Wolf," he corrects.

"Same difference," you chuckle, raising your head from his chest to peer into his eyes. A lovesick, dopey grin is plastered all over his face when he looks at you, despite his words of insecurity.

"I'm with you no matter what, Clive. No matter the challenges or struggles you may face. I'll always stand by you. I love you, and that will forever remain true," you murmur, pressing a kiss to his lips, and you swear you can see his pupils double in size as he repeats the phrase back to you.

You rest your head back on his chest once again, enjoying the feeling of contentment before speaking out, "We're going to have a lot of explaining to do back at the hideaway, won't we?"

"Oh, most definitely."