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halcyone-of-the-sea · 8 months

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ICARUS (XI)

NAVIGATION || RAVISHING ALLURE MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER XII

PAIRING: Nikto x F!Reader (Soulmate AU)

WORDCOUNT: 5.6k

WARNINGS: Angst, threats, exploitation, described stalking behavior, very dark/toxic modeling standards/expectations, explosions, blood, implied harm/injury, death, plot progression, dirty talk, smut/NSFW, dry humping, semi-public intimacy, light dom/sub dynamics, Nikto likes to be given pet-names because I said so, implied previous breath play/cunnilingus/ p-in-v sex/rough sex/finishing inside, clothed stimulation, etc. (Series 18+)

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

“I’m not going to let you do all of it,” you grumble, rubbing at your thigh with your right hand.

“Walk to me,” Nikto’s dark brow raises from below his mask, pale eyes darting you up and down. “Without your knees shaking.”

Your face flares up, and you bite back a sarcastic comment as the driver of the car walks past, sending a glance to where the Russian packs the back of the vehicle with your bags. Nikto huffs a chuckle as another settles into the trunk, flattening it with his gloved hands.

“Rude,” you mutter, glaring lightly. “You’re getting bold with your words, Nikto.”

“Surely we have failed somewhere,” your guard grunts, trying to scrutinize his talent of fucking you senseless last night. “You are still upright instead of collapsed to the floor. Did I not find that spot inside of your drooling cunt that made you say you would not be able to walk—”

“Okay!” You loudly, raising your hands, breathless in reaction. Your entire body is seemingly being rolled on a spit as waves of fire lick at your neck, and you have to force words out from the dryness of your throat. “I’m going to sit in the car—you have fun packing with your dirty mouth, you brute.”

Nikto hums arrogantly, and the smirk is plainly heard by your ears as they ring in embarrassment. “You did not complain about this mouth hours prior. Nor the tongue, Птичка.”

“Holy hell,” you push a hand into your face, grimacing. Brief shadowed flashes of a half-masked face sitting in the clutch of your legs leave you stuttering wildly. “Nikto!”

Taking a large breath before opening the dark door, you hear that loud hyena bark of a laugh in return, before you slip inside and firmly slam the barrier closed.

“Oh my God,” your response bounces off the windows, but the infectious smile grows steadily over your flesh until it needs to be hidden by your hand, tiny chuckles making your eyes crinkle.

Shaking your head, you settle back and grasp the seat belt, clicking the metal together as the straps pull across your chest securely.

You were going back to Yekaterinburg, but the realization was…less than concerning. There was a sort of liberation in your blood now—something to be proud of even if it was such a small thing.

Your eyes glance behind to the rear window, seeing the great form of Nikto continuing to pack the trunk in your absence, back in his regular gear with the suit in the hands of the stylists. You can’t say you didn’t miss it, but having him return to some semblance of normalcy was calming to you. Home was the destination, first and foremost: back to your trinkets and your treasures, fabric, and soft rugs.

You’d stood up to AMA and the jobs they’d assigned to you. No more parties, you’d told Iakov, who you still hadn’t seen a glimpse of since last night. No calls either. He’d never gotten back to you, but you were sure a hellstorm was brewing above your head.

Lips pull slightly, but the thought is pushed to the back of your mind as just a result of hurt pride. He’d survive.

But you weren’t too sure if you would.

“Home,” you sigh, bringing back your smile forcefully. Even with all the added challenges being back in Yekaterinburg would cause, you can’t help the thrill of your heart at the thought of familiar streets and faces. Your mom wanted to talk, and AMA was getting on you about showing up to the building for a meeting, both to-dos were competing like fighting cats.

You still couldn’t tell which was worse.

The trunk behind you is audibly closed with a heavy hand, the metal of the vehicle moving up and down as Nikto stands back to the sidewalk and rolls his wrist—walking to the door before slipping inside next to you. Cushions dipping, you glance over and tilt your head as Nikto’s knee hits yours, the Russian readjusting his thighs before he grumbles under his breath and glances to the window.

“All set?” You ask, putting your hands into your lap as your foot hits the small crossbody bag on the floor. It holds a few simple items to help pass the travel time—your book, laptop, phone, and a few scrap papers for random notes or doodles.

Nikto nods, glancing over to you. “Make sure you do not forget anything.”

You huff. “I’m good. Trust me, it helps to pack light.”

You’re given a slow blink, the man’s eyelids narrowing. He hums.

“You have brought six bags,” Nikto utters gruffly, hearing his frown on the air.

“And you were very gentlemanly loading all of them,” you grin, sending over your amusement-tight skin as the blank mask offers only numb attention. “Very sweet on me, Big Guy.”

Nikto makes an annoyed sound under his breath, rolling his eyes partially. “You would not survive a deployment. Too attached to your items.”

You laugh. “Sue me for buying things I’d like to keep. C’mon,” your attention moves as Nikto gives a sharp order to the driver to leave, which he does with a glance backward and a sneer at your guard. “You’re meaning to tell me you don’t have anything you want to have near you a lot—something important?”

The bear-like man pauses as he settles back into his seat, the vehicle starting up. He takes a breath, and you see the Kevlar of his chest piece rise and fall. Nikto grunts, seeming to realize he’s staring at you as he pulls his eyes to the glass of the window quickly.

“A handful.”

You sigh before it ends in a soft huff. “Any specifics?” Your interest is obvious.

“None we wish to tell about.” He glances, and seeing your teasing stare, he shifts, scoffs under his breath with no real anger, and shrugs his large shoulders before coming up with a simple answer. “My notebook, then.” Nikto’s eyelids lower, thinking back to the item in the back of his consciousness and the importance it holds. You’d only seen it once, he knows—back when he had written you a grocery list for your penthouse. Hell, if only you could take a glance at the contents now.

Nikto clears his throat, continuing in a deeper tone. “Rag to clean my weapons.”

It’s a small chuckle he gets from you. “Makes sense. I don’t think I’ve ever seen them dirty before.”

A steady silence falls before the Russian feels the need to speak again, and in his mind, he replays every word that you��d said to him throughout these fast-paced and eye-opening days. Being near you now was slightly different in a way he couldn’t have anticipated.

Taking in the hues and colors of the city as it goes by swiftly, he frowns and spares you a side-eye as you dig around your bag—seeing your fingers slip out a book and lay it next to you before you flatten out the fabric of your pants. Nikto’s eyes softened gradually, but no one would ever notice unless they knew how to read him as perfectly as a midnight storm: trying to pinpoint where the thunder came from. He clears his throat and blinks, raising a hand to itch at his neck, pushing and pulling at the cover of canvas until his senses level out once more.

He enjoyed last night. Immensely.

In his head, it’s all he can say about it without deeming himself a malleable fool. Some kind-coated idiot who hadn’t seen the betrayal that such a care can bring. Allowing himself to get emotionally involved is a death sentence, and Nikto was always pushing himself to be the perfect image of order. But with you, it was different, or, at least, that was what he told himself. The reminder of your sweat-heavy scent was firm in the back of his nose.

The Russian’s body angles itself, and in a sure movement of his hand, his arm slips across your abdomen and steals the book at your side.

Your attention darts up, your nice shirt pressed right up to your flesh as Nikto’s sturdy arm slides along it like a snake. You mutely watch him, your ribs being rubbed as all at once the man’s roaming grip leaves. Blinking, your heart beats a bit quicker as Nikto brings your book in front of him, tilting his head down to it as you watch.

It was imperative that you remind yourself that having sex with the man didn’t make him yours.

As you watch Nikto’s hidden fingers lightly brush the cover, your eyes follow the way he maneuvers the front to take a glance at the spine, seeing as the dust jacket is gone.

“Crime and Punishment?” The Russian blinks as the car takes a right, slipping along the streets as the houses and buildings start to get more of a distance between them. Nikto looks over at you. “Fyodor Dostoevsky.” He pauses, keeping the book to himself as if trying to understand.

“Aly recommended it,” your face goes heated at the newfound attention on you. “She read it in University.”

“It is good book,” Nikto hums. “Though, I found Notes From Underground more of an interest to me.”

“I’ll have to add it to the list,” you smile softly. “I’ve seen you read a lot when there’s time—do you like it as much as cooking, Nikto?”

That seems to make him think, watching the Russian’s eyebrows pull in minute wonder. You wished you could understand what blue looked like…you were sure his eyes were beautiful. Especially when he was actively attempting to keep the conversation going.

“We have not thought about it much,” he grumbles, flipping your book open to where you had placed a small strip of fabric as a bookmark—Nikto picks the thing up as he speaks. “Both are calming. Good distractions.” He looks at you. “I would not give rank, though there is a time and place for them.”

“Fair,” you breathe, shrugging. You lightly lean into his shoulder, and you hear Nikto grunt as his attention stays like a cat. “But I do have to say I think your cooking might be higher on my personal scale.”

A soft puff of air sneaks out of the mask and Nikto shifts his head down as you elbow the rough material of his gear playfully.

“Добро.” His tone is low, grating as every little ache from last night seems to flare in your muscles. “I…enjoy cooking for you.”

You stare at one another for a moment, getting lost in the intimacy of an open gaze, before you blink quickly and move back, chuckling as your body burns. Like a bird, if you had feathers, they would be puffed up by now.

Nikto watches your fingers fidget in your lap as he twitches his digits against the cover of your book, setting it on his thigh as he spares a look at the driver. The man’s eyes are visible in the mirror, and when they lock, those dark brown orbs dart away as if on fire; blond hair cut close to his scalp.

The ex-soldier watches the back of his head for a few moments, thinking.

Hell, he would be lying by saying that he wasn’t on edge ten times more than he was before. Anyone glancing at you could be the person he’s after—it was maddening to the point of making him obsess over your safety to the tiniest degree.

And yet, there had been no further texted images: no messages or dead birds. No bombs.

Just that one.

‘I know what you did.’

Yes, Nikto thinks, sighing under his breath, you do know. But do you know what we did in that bedroom last night? Why don’t you come and punish me for it? Hm?

“Pathetic,” the Russian whispers to himself, fingering the paper below him until he can peek at the next page to see where you were in the story.

You turn your head from the window, watching gray trees finally begin making a permanent appearance.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” Nikto mutters, attention-catching on that point he’d made to himself. Last night. He backtracks, lowering his voice until it’s only you who can hear—side glaring at the driver like a skittish mutt. “You are...” Pale eyes dig, pulling into a narrowed form as if your mind was the same as the book he holds open. Something to be read. “Adequate?”

Your brows pull in. “Why are we whispering?” You ask, keeping the same tone regardless as you lean closer again; both nearly nose to nose.

Nikto glares, but you can’t see his face beginning to slowly change shade.

“We are asking if you are fit for the long ride.”

He sees your eyes blink slowly. “I’m fine…Why wouldn’t I be?”

The Russian stays silent, openly staring without any discernible emotion in his eyes. You hear him take a breath, glancing once more at the driver, before leaning in further. He huffs sharply.

“Are you alright after what we did—” A kiss is placed on Nikto’s hidden cheek as your laughs echo in his ear.

You lean backward a bit, amusement leaking from you. Sparking eyes meet the ex-soldiers, frozen and taken aback with unmoving eyes.

“I’m just joking, I know what you’re asking me,” you tilt your head, smiling as Nikto’s orbs dip to stare as a swirl of emotions moves in his gut. He swallows, unable to look away. “I’m fine,” you mutter, feelings softening to a bashfulness. “Nothing to worry about…I don’t break easily.”

“Hm,” Nikto’s form returns to where it was previously, and you can tell he’s blushing, even if you can’t see his face or name the shade he would be. Yet, he’s still as blunt as ever as the smirk comes back into his voice. “...Are we sure, Птичка?”

“Bastard,” you huff, motioning with a hand as the Russian almost purrs at the dirty banter. Your finger points to him as you unclick your seatbelt, shifting so you can put your head into his lap similar to how you had on the drive here. Looking up, smug eyes stare down—your finger in his face making him want to grab at it as a dog does fresh meat. He still remembers how your skin tastes; he’s not too far gone to admit he doesn't like how he’s addicted to it.

“You’re getting confident now.”

“We were always confident,” he grates through his accent. “You’ve given us something to battle your need to annoy me with.”

“I like to call it teasing,” you smirk and Nikto’s leather gloves grasp at your neck carefully, making you pause as your eyes widen. Instinctually, you open the skin more to him, head tilting back and legs shifting over the seats to break open before you stop yourself with a small gasp.

Those sand-paper laughs make your thighs close in on themselves as you glare weakly, face lighting up with pure embarrassment as Nikto’s fingers squeeze. You’re ashamed at the pulse of your core. A dog in heat.

There’s a face in your ear.

“One good fuck has you trained, hm?”

“I’ve had better,” you try to hiss, one eye going to the oblivious driver. A second hand moves your book to the floor before it grabs at your thigh, going to pry it open with fat fingers. You strangle a gasp, biting at your lips as you squeak at the sensitivity. “Nikto,” you breathe in warning.

A palm cups your core, and you strangle the limb as the heel is rubbed against your clothed clit. He finds it with no trouble at all: already having you memorized.

You hear Niktto’s heavy breaths—his pulsing grip at your neck as you fight a whimper and your eyes flutter. Your pelvis starts grinding downward in broken stutters, and the Russian leaves his hand there, body completely hanging over you as he stares at the back of the driver's head, wanting to lick the flesh beside your ear, and for the first time, damning his mask.

“Have you, yes?” Nikto wonders, words so steady no one would imagine what was taking place. “Hm. Maybe we will have to leave you alone next time, Little Bird. Get you to find someone else who gets you to scream like I have. Do you remember it?”

Your panties are soaked, and the fluids leak out onto your pants as you continue to rut into Nikto’s gloved palm, back arching over the bulk of his thigh to push your body over his lap, getting a better angle as your guard follows. You listen, and Nikto’s getting harder by how your spine runs its vertebrae over his clothed dick. He jerks once or twice up into it, not above fucking you in front of someone else if this escalates any further. As long as you keep your eyes on him when you cum.

He likes hearing the small noise you make as your orgasm hits.

Nikto breathes, finishing his sentence as you get yourself off to his palm like a good little charge, “How you pleaded for my cum inside of you, Seraph?”

Your cunt flutters, wildly sensitive from last night enough to a point where every grind of your hips felt like Nikto’s cock was still bullying its way in and out of you.

“You cried, yes? As we were bouncing you up and down? How many rounds did that pretty cunt take as you took me so well? Four? Пять? Шесть? Oh, Птичка.” Nikto glances down at your work, smirking as his scars pull tight at the image of the slick over his glove. You were drenched—he almost felt bad. Almost.

“No, we know better than to play with my meal.” He burrows his face into your neck, beginning to let his hand move up and down as your thighs shake, he knows that feeling—that little tell of yours. “No one makes that pussy as wet as I do.”

“Shit,” you whisper, eyes rolling back and your throat tight with the fight between rabid moans and curses. Have to be quiet.

Your flinching eyes worriedly darted to the driver, who still hasn’t looked back at the two of you at all. If anything, the idea of getting caught…well, your hand sneaks down to Nikto’s wrist, pushing him even closer as his smooth chuckles mar your eardrums.

You whine under your breath as you force his palm into you, angling it just right against your clit before your eyes start to roll back in broken increments—lighting making your back arch and toes curl. There are tiny squeaks from the leather seats, but nothing else.

“Good,” Nikto pants, rubbing his erection into your back. “Tell us we are right.”

“You’re right,” you hurriedly whisper to him. “So wet for you, Baby.”

His eyes spark, and he ruts a bit harder, making you stifle a squeak. “Say it again,” he orders, eyes glinting inside of his sockets.

“Baby,” you wince, legs trying to suck in his fingers as your thighs close and rub into them harder. “Nikto, Baby,” your teeth mark your lips heavily.

His shaky breath in your ear accompanies you as your eyes roll back and your spine arches, and, part of a sharp noise exits your mouth as your orgasm hits you, before the hand at your neck sloppily places itself over your drooling lips.

Layers of electricity playing through your weeping cunt, you fight for breath out of your nose as your eyes glaze over, head partially hanging off of Nikto to the seat below as your legs slowly stop their thrusts.

A minute or two passes before your guard leans back, taking his hands off of you and grunting in masochistic pleasure as the ache of his untreated erection still grinds itself into your back slowly—almost torture in the way it keeps him aroused and unable to soften.

Nikto’s grip finds your stomach after he can feel his dick leaking out into his underwear, making a cold mess against his flesh. In a hidden idea, he pushes his hand down into you so he has a better angle to thrust against a firm surface, letting his head connect with the back of the seat as he fucks up into you with his flexing thighs and clenched jaw.

Your eyes pull open to watch him, your mouth half open as your study of his panting chest falls to how you can nearly feel the way his cock drags. He doesn't care at all about anything else about how it feels to get off against you—it’s not as good as finishing inside of your cunt, but he can imagine the warm walls well enough as he begins to make cut-of groans in his chest. Using you like a doll, your wide gaze stays stuck on the sight like glue.

“I am going to fuck you in your bed,” Nikto sighs, only telling himself as he’s still violently aware of the audience he keeps. “Use that penthouse as an excuse to lay you out on every surface. Yes, fuck you good. Keep you and your soft body pleased with every drag of my cock.”

Yet, he’s less concerned with the driver’s eyes now that you’ve cum in his hand—his sex appetite is strong, just as his regular one is; embarrassment is a myth to him regarding it. How many times had he resorted to locking himself in a bathroom when he was in the military, just to jerk off while watching in the mirror as thick ropes of cum splattered his chest? How many sneaked sessions in his barracks until his eyes would roll back, and he had to grind into a pillow with the cold stains of previous loads making him moan?

As long as he could see your eyes looking into him, he could bust just by a touch at his crotch.

Nikto strangles a low groan, shudders violently, and then his thighs stop—sag, and he pants, going limp against the seat. The spurts of his orgasm leaves wet patches in his pants, and he can imagine it pooling, instead, out of your pussy as it should be.

The both of you lay in the sopping remnants of your insatiable lust, leaking out to one another, and only think about what you both can have once you’re back in Yekaterinburg and alone.

Maybe there won’t be a meeting with AMA or my mom, you think as Nikto rubs a thumb down your cheek—letting your eyes slip shut softly as your nostrils flare with every breath. He hums in satisfaction, petting your thigh as he massages your inner leg.

Maybe we’ll fuck so much we’ll end up forgetting our names instead.

Hell, it didn’t sound like a bad idea at all.

—

Halfway through Nikto’s audible reading of Crime and Punishment—in which he sometimes lapsed into Russian rambles in the middle of a sentence—you shift against the seat and mutter out a question.

“So, he’s going to try to get away with murder?”

Nikto pauses in his speaking, looking over from the page as his mask shines into the light. It’s a little past noon if you had to guess. “Да.” Nikto’s brows furrow. “We are four chapters in—have you just noticed?”

“You’ve been speaking in Russian for the last fifteen minutes.”

Nikto curses under his breath, glaring at you incredulously after he closes the book with a single hand. “Why did you not say?”

You smile slowly. “It sounded nice?”

The man sighs out loud, bringing up a hand to push into the plate at his nose in a funny display of exasperation. A laugh makes its way out of your mouth, and you shake your head.

“It’s alright—I don’t mind. I just like listening to your voice.”

“Hm,” Nikto looks at you, huffing, but you can tell he takes it to heart by the way his shoulders sag a small bit. “You are strange, Woman.”

“As I’ve been told,” you breathe, chuckling. “You’ll re-read it to me later?”

The Russian’s head tilts to the side. “In русский or English?”

Your eyes glint, your smirk rising, and you let the question sit in the air until Nikto’s eyes pull in understanding the longer you stare at him.

He hums deep in his breast, gaze molten heat.

“Русский, then. Да, I will not complain if you enjoy it, Птичка.”

You call out breathily as you stare into his eyes, “Thank you, Baby.”

Nikto’s spine goes rigid, and before you can snort you slap a hand to your mouth and level your head to the window, body shaking with muffled laughter.

“Нелепый,” the man growls out, pushing at the fabric of his crotch and shifting his abdomen as your loud snort slips out. “You are much too confident in your abilities now—”

The car begins to shake and the driver curses out loud.

Immediately, all teasing is cut like a blade as Nikto’s eyes slash forward: slitted.

Both of your attention is locked onto the driver as he snaps in Russian, banging a hand to the wheel as your body pauses.

“Nikto?” You ask the question under your breath.

Your guard slips forward in his seat, grasping the back of the driver’s seat and growling out a low question in his native tongue. He only looks over his shoulder to you after a long and heated discussion.

“He says the vehicle is not acting correctly.”

“Not acting correctly?” Your face pulls, form getting more rigid as the car veers off the main road to the side, grumbling like an animal as the hood shakes. “Why? How? It was working just fine yesterday.”

“I do not know,” Nikto utters, eyes narrowing. He glances at you, tension growing in his spine. “Keep near us. Do not leave my sight.”

“Right,” you nod, ears twitching as the driver parks the car and gets out in a huff, barking expletives and waving his hands. A sliver of nervousness slips into your blood.

Nikto has a bad feeling.

The hair on the back of his neck stands up as he pops the door open, hearing his boots hit the asphalt as he breathes out. Standing to his full height, he keeps the fuming driver in the corner of his pale vision, holding the barrier open for you and keeping you from the mostly vacant road as a car passes quickly.

“Slowly,” Nikto mutters, grabbing at your arm to make sure your lack of coordination didn’t send you to an early death.

You give him a small smile, and he stares for longer than he should before the Russian blinks, holding you away from open traffic—his body keeps itself nearest to the road as you both move to the hood.

“That can’t be good,” you murmur with a raised brow as the driver smacks the vehicle, waving his hand in front of his face as a thin tendril of dark smoke mists through the air like a grim cloud.

“No,” Nikto stares, his fingers sliding along the fabric of your shirt—curling just at the small of your back. “It can not.” His unimpressed voice carries over the area as another car passes.

You stare lightly after, knowing it’s the second vehicle that belongs to AMA just by the make and model; especially by the license plate. It carries a number of personnel—most likely Iakov, your stylists, and a photographer or two. The car sees that you’re stopped, slows, and also pulls off the road a large distance ahead.

“At least we’ll have another ride if this can’t be fixed,” you comment as you and your guard join the driver, Nikto grunting in Russian with an order to stop denting the car’s frame. A sigh slips your lips and you stretch carefully—raising your arms above your head and hearing your bones cracking. “Won’t be stranded,” you end in a strained voice before you sigh in relief and relax.

As Nikto and the driver descend into clipped words, your phone rings from inside the vehicle. Blinking, your body is quick to shuffle the way back and snatch the thing out, retreating to the grass to the right of the scene and a small way away—it’s still easy to see how Nikto keeps an eye on you, however.

With his comment yesterday about a new picture from the stalker, you weren’t keen on being away from him either. The thought makes your skin crawl, but you know you’re better off never seeing whatever the contents had been…you’d already seen enough of that freak’s ‘pictures’ to last a lifetime.

Answering the call, you push the phone to your ear. “Seraph,” you say, half-facing the road and half to the tree line. Your drive back home had barely started—already you’d run into trouble? These last few months were continually stacking on top of one another for the top ten worst moments in your life.

Galina’s voice pushes through.

“Where are you currently?”

Your face loosens, brows twisting. “Driving back to Yekaterinburg now, we just ran into some car trouble,” you pause, seeing Nikto going to open the hood but being stopped by the driver, who seems to think he can do it himself without any help at all. “...Is there something going on?”

Nikto only breaks away in attention to look over to you every so often, his fingers twitching and shoulders wound up under all that gear.

Why is he so tense? You have to ask yourself in curiosity before your guard’s head snaps to where others from the second car spill out, beginning walking to you three—coming to help like little trees down the line of asphalt.

Running your free hand over the back of your skull, as always, Nikto’s nervousness makes you tense; especially when he shifts his hand to brush his beretta like that. That dark void of a mask is permanently stuck giving you half of a glare, and you can perfectly imagine his jaw clenching.

But everybody here was trustworthy, weren’t they?

Iavov’s shorter stature makes its way forward quicker than the others, calling out words that you can’t hear. He holds something in his hands, and it glints in the light.

Galina spares no chance to breathe between rapid clipped sentences.

“Sergi has had to be released from custody—Yaromir and I have little concern he was involved in anything that resulted in harm to another. We can not keep him.” You had expected that; it wasn’t surprising. “But he mentioned something that I believe you should know before you return.”

“What is it?” Your voice is low, concerned as Iakov and the rest raise their words. Nikto barks at them in Russian to stay where they are as his eyes glint dangerously for no discernible reason. The driver shifts his fingers away from the hood as you begin shuffling closer as well, spine straight with tension.

The air was alive with a cord ready to snap.

“He mentioned something about knowing a man who works at Allurement in an off comment when he didn’t realize he was being recorded.”

Your feet speed up to the car almost instinctively.

“Who?”

“We were unable to push for a name. Sergi got far too nervous and shut down on us; there was little left to do. But there’s another thing.”

Heart pattering, you call to Nikto stiffly, seeing him only hold a hand out to tell you to not come any closer. You frown, disregarding the concern, and are now about five feet away from the car and eager to figure out what’s wrong with it so you can leave—you feel eyes on you, and in a paranoid moment, your vision darts to the approaching group of six. Closer now.

“Seraph,” Nikto grinds out. “Stay there. There is something that we do not like about—”

Galina’s continued explanation interrupts your Russian just as the driver gets the hood finally open with a loud call of victory. You blink, your fingers over the phone gripping the device like a woman strangling a knife while facing a home intruder.

“Sergi was spotted disposing of multiple cameras by way of selling them off to anyone who would take them all over the city. We’re trying to track down the buyers, but we don’t believe the cameras were his to begin with. He’s hiding evidence for someone.”

There’s a bright spark that makes your eyes flinch shut like you’d been staring into the sun. Head snapping to the side, you cover your face with a heavy hiss as you halt in your tracks, stepping back as Nikto’s loud voice carries.

“Seraph!” You startle, legs dragging across the ground. “Get down! Немедленно!”

“—There is reason to believe that Sergi has a close connection and a willingness to protect whoever is behind these events. Perhaps even the evidence from the explosion at the bakery was tampered with—”

The car bursts into an inferno just as Nikto’s body connects with yours.

Meeting the ground hard, the man rolls along with you as the air is snatched from your lungs and skin whipped by fire—the sound of screeching metal so loud that the resounding ringing in your ears is immediate as debris whizzes past your head.

In the exit of all air from your lungs, your phone is lost as you gasp sharply.

There’s a sting of pain across your face—in your arm as well as Nikto drapes himself over you with a firm bark of a gut-twisting curse, gripping and dragging you until you’re stapled to his chest.

Far above, the screaming and the sizzle of flesh all melt together into the image of a gray sun. Smoke wafts away on a slow breeze, and the body of a panting man above you is voided until null even as hands pull you from him to stare down at you—at the crimson blood that he can see in such vivid detail.

There’s only the sensation of him calling your name frantically before it all gets sucked into oblivion around pale, horribly panicked eyes.

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setsugekka · 1 year

Text

❥5 weeks (m)

↳ In which a freelancing stylist gig puts you between a rock and a hard place.

The rock being ‘never slept with a client before and not looking to start now,’ and the hard place being a younger than you and much too daring for his own good, Jung Wooyoung.

jung wooyoung x older stylist fem!reader — coworkers to lovers, mutual pining, porn with plot, explicit sexual content. [12.1k wc] cws: unspecified age gap!! they’re both down atrocious but he is the one making all the moves, mutual masturbation, a metric fuckton of dirty talking, praise, humiliation, pet names including ‘mommy,’ and the use of ‘noona’ but really it’s his kink and not hers (a drop of ‘daddy’ too but it’s more for comedic purposes than anything), drop of a breeding kink (also kinda comedic), oral sex (m+f), unprotected penetrative sex, creampie, wooyoung has a Big Dick and is wildly kinky and confident.

“Oh, give me a break!”

Shoulder sling of your bag dropping from you in exasperation and barely caught by your hand as to not allow your belongings to fall to the floor, you roll your eyes briefly towards the man informing you of the terrible news of the day. Of the month.

“Are you kidding me? This isn't what my contract said.”

“It sort of is,” the man reluctantly replies, avoiding eye contact that he knows will not help make the situation any better for either of you. “Blah blah blah 'in the event of a personnel shift then we have the freedom to place you wherever we need you.”

You knew, you were lying in hopes of being able to get out of it.

Unfortunately, when you took the job and signed the contract, you did know that this would be a likely outcome. Freelance stylists were able to choose three groups of which they had preference in working for throughout the show — bigger groups come with their own stylists and full slots majority of the time, but occasionally need additional hands on, which is where you come in. Smaller groups have less on board staff and require more freelance help on set — also where you come in, although, not ideally.

Of the six groups on broadcast, you had worked with four. three you enjoyed, they went on the list of preferences.

The one that you didn't enjoy working with, along with the other that you hadn't become acquainted with, were left off. Nothing against them, just better to play it safe with what you're familiar with.

And now you have to find out which group you got assigned for the next five weeks.

Slinging your bag back onto your shoulder with a huff, you thank the man for his time even in spite of not really being all that thankful, and make your way down the white walled hallway, the names of groups you're familiar with passing you by — slowing down as you pass the ones you had wished to work with and happily waving towards the members as you carry on — it's a brief relief, you'll still get to see them and have fun with them, just not as much as you would have given alternate circumstances.

And then you reach the room number, 3B.

ATEEZ.

Squinting slightly, you recall that you're actually not completely unfamiliar with them, and happily, they're not the group you didn't enjoy working with. You already know the names of everyone in the group, and you think you remember doing some behind the scenes broadcast work when they were still in their first year, albeit, not much.

It could have been worse.

Walking into the room, you first introduce yourself to the entire lot of people, then focus towards managers and the other stylists — all very welcoming and happy to receive the help, it seems.

Then, the members.

All of them gathered around, clamoring to accommodate you in such an overwhelming way that you can't hardly make out a single word being said one way or another, Hongjoong finally shushes the rest to get a word in edgewise and calmly welcomes you on board, along with apologizing in advance for whatever it is that may take place as a result of working with the lot.

You don't know what he means by it exactly, but you're familiar with working with boy groups — some things are pretty standard across the board. The dirty jokes, the messiness, the crudeness — if you're lucky, it mostly ends there, immature young men just trying to fit in having a good time in the midst of their otherwise busy schedules — you're used to giving it a pass.

But you sift through your mental rolodex of stories that you've heard about groups through the grapevine — water cooler among stylists type talk — and fail to land on anything in particular about them.

When it comes to this sort of stuff, no news is good news.

The boys scatter back to where they had come after the warm welcomes, and you dart your head around in an attempt to find a place to put your personal belongings. Truthfully, the room is small for the amount of people in it, and you're seemingly the last to join the crew. You wish not to place your purse down on the floor next to the door, but without another option at hand, you resign yourself to the fact that this will have to make due. Phone and wallet sticking out of the top, you kneel down to scoot the items against the wall when a strong hand comes from the side, taking you by the wrist. It's gentle even in it's abruptness, and takes you by surprise all the same.

“Sorry, didn't mean to scare you,” he says, quickly letting go of you but remaining in his knelt position next to you. “Don't put it there, I got a place.”

Eyebrows furrowing at the words, and the implications, you cock your head to the side before responding to him. “Problem with thieves? I mean, I know it's a pirate concept—“

“Oh, very funny!” he says, matching your playfully mocking tone with wide eyes. “No, but the door has loose hinges and if someone comes through that thing fast enough it's going to destroy everything you've got in there.”

Come to think of it, you had noticed that upon entry. Not as funny as what you had said, though.

The both of you stand, your items in hand again, and he leads the way towards a small area of the room that he appears to have made out for himself. It's simple: two folding chairs, one for sitting, and one to serve as a table, with his food already set out on it — the man points towards under the table-chair. “Put it there.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you know my name?” he asks, no discernible tone to it, but you can't recall an idol ever asking you the question outright — especially knowing that you're a freelancer.

You watch him only break eye contact with you long enough to seat himself back down, taking his lunch into his hands and nodding towards the makeshift platform, communicating to you that he wishes for you to use the chair for its intended purpose now.

“Is this a test? Or some kind of, I don't know—“ you pause, leaning back comfortably. “Am I like, supposed to?”

And he laughs in response, a sudden chuckle as if not having expected the retort at all. You watch him wipe his mouth with a napkin and take a sip of his drink before settling in to respond to the comment. “No, I was just curious because I wouldn't introduce myself again if you already had. I'm Woo—“

“Wooyoung, I know who you are.”

“Wow, all of that just for you to already know who I am?” he questions, wide eyed again — you can tell that he's enjoying the banter between the two of you. You'd be lying if you had said you weren't doing the same. “Enjoy playing games, is it?” he asks.

Typically, you would say no. But right now?

There had been a handful of idols that you had worked with over the years where the two of you hit it off naturally, comfortably. A welcomed lack of professionalism in an area of work that didn't normally allow for any room for it, being able to meet people that truly allowed for you to simply be yourself — it made going to the job everyday just that much easier.

“So,” you begin, not wanting to allow the conversation to die down as the man with the two-toned hair in front of you continues his meal with all eyes on you as you speak. “Who has the problem head in this group?”

“Problem head? “ Wooyoung exclaims, having never heard the verbiage before.

“Yeah, like who is going to be the biggest issue. Who doesn't wash their hair like a normal person or never brushes it or whatever.”

“Oh!” he yells, finally having caught on, and wipes his mouth with the napkin again before pointing across the room and loudly calling out towards another member. “It's Seonghwa! It's 100% Seonghwa! Never seen that man brush his hair in my life!”

Laughing, you turn to look behind you at Seonghwa seated in front of a mirror, another stylist going to work on his hair — roughly, at that — and as you make eye contact with a Seonghwa who is shaking his head, you move your eyes up and towards the stylist behind, solemnly nodding in accordance to Wooyoung's claims.

You turn back, Wooyoung shoving more food into his mouth. “Told you,” he mumbles between chews. “You got a boyfriend?”

You had let the conversation die down, and just as quickly, Wooyoung sparks it up again, still gnawing on the chicken in his mouth as he gets the words out.

“No,” you carefully reply, question lacing your tone that the man is sure to pick up on, but he only grins, swallowing, wiping and leaning forward towards you so that he doesn't have to carry his voice in more than a whisper.

“Good.”

By the end of the first week, you had a good idea that you might have sex with this guy.

On a surface level, you weren't too thrilled with the prospect, though. In all of your years working in the industry, you had never crossed that line. You knew colleagues who had, and worked with idols that regularly did, but despite not being morally or fundamentally opposed to the idea, it seemed better for everyone to just not. It was easy enough, usually. You had met some people that you had hit it off with and sure, the thought had crossed your mind occasionally — the sneaking 'what if' of a fling with someone, but it never felt especially in grasp. You weren't going to go out of your way to make it happen, and as far as you could tell, no one else had on their end, either.

Until now.

An entire week of friendly banter and heavy flirting that only came on stronger and stronger with each day, it's the first friday when you have Wooyoung in your chair and hair in your hands that the glances shared felt especially loaded.

Pulling on his hair slightly at a particularly tricky knot, you apologize, watching him wince vaguely in the reflection — only for him to glance up from his phone with a half grin and a wicked pointedness to his eyes.

“It's fine, I like it.”

And you want to be able to ignore it. Ignore the implications of the words. Feeling foreign eyes on you, your vision quickly darts over to make contact with Hongjoong's — seated next to the two of you and being dealt with on his own. He chuckles under his breath, having overheard the comment, and you pull on Wooyoung's hair again, this time on purpose.

A silent insistence for him to behave.

“How old are you, noona?” Hongjoong suddenly asks from beside you, eyes glued back down to his phone screen, and you're not sure why he's asking.

You have your suspicions, though.

“Older, old enough,” you respond. It pulls another chuckle from the leader of the group.

“Makes sense,” he says, finally receiving the go ahead to get up from the chair after having been finished with. “He likes that. Good luck with this one.”

Feeling heat rush to your face, and not particularly enjoying the fact that everyone in the room seems to be in on the situation at hand, you look back at Wooyoung in the reflection: still grinning with not a care in the world related to the topic.

'Play it cool,' you tell yourself with a deep inhale. “You do this often? Flirt with your stylists?”

“I wouldn't say often,” he responds plainly. “It's not unheard of, though.”

“You run off a lot of stylists?” you laugh, playfully pulling at his hair again.

“No,” he says, a certain cuteness taking his tone before leaning his head back against the headrest and looking up at you directly. “They don't run off.”

You want to be better. Stronger. Able to ignore it. Not to be like them, you don't flirt with idols you work with and you certainly don't sleep with them, either.

But you're guessing Wooyoung has plans for that, as well.

On the next Wednesday when filming runs late, with the majority of the staff having left, Wooyoung, Yunho and Yeosang are kept behind to refilm some shots. For only three members needing attention, and the normal staff for the group having to accompany the rest to their other schedules, you're left in charge of the three — along with their managers.

Which is simple enough: Yeosang, as off the wall nutty as he is, is relatively easy to work with, and Yunho being so kind and willing to do whatever it takes to make your job easier, you're only left with the one problem-child, as it were.

When filming for the three finally wraps at a quarter past one in the morning, you thank everyone for their time and willingness to accommodate you as they all head out to meet up with the rest of the members...until a PD comes in last minute once again and requests for another shoot for Wooyoung.

“It's fine, I'll catch up with you guys later,” he tells the rest, including his manager — tired and worn no doubt from a hectic schedule of, well, managing Wooyoung.

“How are you going to get home?” you ask him, confused about his dismissal of his handler as he hurriedly shakes his black and blonde hair free of the half ponytail it had been put into as they were leaving.

“I know how to get home, I'm an adult,” he laughs in response.

“I mean with the fans.”

“Oh,” he pauses, slipping on the shoes from wardrobe that they had had him in prior. “That's easy to deal with, honestly. Already scoped out the escape!”

For some reason, you don't even question that to be the truth. It sounds like something he would have already had planned.

“Are you leaving now?” he asks, rushing out towards the hallway, only lingering in the doorway long enough to catch your response.

And you know that deep down, you should — that the best way to avoid trouble, and subsequently Wooyoung, is to leave while he's caught up, with no chance of roping you into some nonsense that you wish you didn't want to be roped into.

But at the same time...what could it hurt?

What's a little adventure?

And the way that his lips curl at the response is devilish — has you second-guessing your choice already. Evidently, a man with an extremely devious plan that he has every intention of putting into action with the older stylist that he barely knows anything about.

Suddenly, you recall Hongjoong's words just a few days prior. A warning. 'Good luck.'

“Be back soon!” Wooyoung chimes, “and then we can get out of here.”

As if the 'we' wasn't bad enough, it's the way his bottom lip catches on his teeth as he exits the room, eyes locked with your own before disappearing into the madness of idol life once again.

You had sort of hoped that something would have come up that barred this scenario that you had originally agreed to. Now darting and weaving through dark, empty hallways of the entertainment building — quite possibly the last people in there that night besides overnight security, when Wooyoung finally brings you to the VIP entrance that he had briefly mentioned before, dual hearts sink at the sight just beyond the large, glass doors.

Pouring rain — unable to be heard from inside of the massive concrete building, but now plain as day in front of you, Wooyoung huffs at the sight, scanning the scattered construction equipment also littering the outdoors — not taken into account, but now definitely hurting the escape plan that had already been set into action.

“I guess we just make a run for it,” Wooyoung sighs, raking his fingers through his hair. “This wasn't really part of the plan, you know.”

“I gathered, but—“ you pause, bringing his attention down to the three bags of your heavy and also quite expensive belongings that you would rather not get soaking wet. “I'm not running anywhere, not well, at least.”

He huffs again, looking up again to stare back out of the window pane. “Well, we can't stay here, don't think we have much of a choice.”

You had already accepted the fact, but hearing the words only causes a pleading sigh to drop from you. “Yeah...where are we running towards, anyways? What's the plan?”

Bringing a hand up, Wooyoung points out towards what appears to be just large equipment for moving and storing concrete and other such things, before elaborating further.

“Across the parking lot and then across the street there's a small, 24-hour convenience store where we can wait and call a cab.”

“How is that safe?” you question, dumbfounded. “How is it safe for you to be seen running around in convenience stores in the middle of the night with a random woman?”

“No one is going to see us, first of all, the weather is terrible and no one knows about this exit,” he begins, “second of all, my friend owns the place, so we'll hang out in the employee lounge until it's time to go.”

You visibly frown at the plan, still worried about your work items, but Wooyoung catches it — gently placing his hand on your wrist just as he had the first time the both of you met.

“We'll...figure it out, okay? Trust me. But we gotta get out of here before security calls security.”

Darting through the doors, Wooyoung holds your hand tightly into his as the two of you slosh through the downpour of the great outdoors — cold and windier than you both had anticipated, when the wind catches you and the bulkiness of your belongings just right, Wooyoung tightens his grip even more as he feels you veer off of the trail. You call out to him once, pulling your things against you as best as you can and he only calls back, “I know!” before finding some sort of shelter where you can hide for the time being.

And once inside, you realize how cramped it is.

It's a totally spur of the moment decision obviously, and not much else to work with, you know this — crammed face to face between two metal sheets in an otherwise packed construction shed — but you're able to shrug your bags off of your shoulder and push them to the side with your foot to grant you a bit more space as you attempt to wring out your hair, dress, and cardigan.

Eventually, when Wooyoung comes back to mind, you look up at him — thin, wet, t-shirt clinging to every curve and dip of the muscle in his chest, hair windswept and just as wet as everything else — and you try not to take notice, or allow your eyes the freedom to trail down, because you remember that he left in sweatpants, and that's plenty good enough to go off of.

But with not much space between you and the hastiness in which you arrived, Wooyoung's thigh ends up not so gently crammed just between your legs.

You notice. You can't help but to notice, you can only hope that he doesn't.

However unlikely that may be.

The first violent shiver of the cold air taking the wetness of your body, you insist that Wooyoung ignores, and he does, at your request — but by the second, he's not so willing to listen to orders.

Taking you by the wrist, the man pulls you forward and against him, your hands only able to catch yourself on his shoulders to keep from falling completely flat against his body, and you have no choice but to force down the sound that being pulled up and along his leg threatens to elicit.

'Bite it back, bitch,' you tell yourself in thought.

“Don't be difficult, it's freezing out here,” Wooyoung finally says, wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you pressed into him. “Keeping you from catching pneumonia isn't really my go-to move.”

You chuckle, the only thing you can do at the ridiculousness of the situation. Turning to look outside as the rain beats loudly against the shed that the both of you take shelter in, Wooyoung shifts again, causing the top of his thigh to press upwards and harder against you. Eyes screwing shut, you try to steady your breathing — it's so dumb, you think as the situation unfolds, feeling like a teenager who can't keep it in her pants but in a situation where it otherwise wouldn't be an issue if it weren't for the fact that the hot guy that you work with — who almost definitely wants to fuck you — is currently lodged against your pussy with either not a clue and therefore doesn't have the knowledge to keep still, or very much aware and no interest in keeping still.

You didn't even really want to know which one it was, you just had to wait for the rain to lighten up.

“Hey.”

You turn your head to match Wooyoung's gaze, air finally drying out his hair a bit to leave it more air dried than soaking wet. He looks good, you hate that.

“You ever hook up with anyone you worked with?”

Mind reader? Gross.

You choose to ignore the implications, answering in a way that doesn't satiate the curiosity that he's hoping for. “Yeah, I used to date a guy who worked for the same company I did before I went freelance.”

“That's not what I mean,” Wooyoung frowns. Of course he wouldn't let you get away with it. “I mean an idol. The talent.”

Clearing your throat, you find that your proximity to Wooyoung that once offered a comforting warmth was now emitting far more of a scalding heat, and with your palms pressed to his shoulders, you manage to free yourself from him slightly, back against the metal sheet behind you and creating space between you and the nosy man just in front of you.

“No, I have not.”

“Why not?”

“I don't know!” you snap, not angry but unsure of what it is that he's fishing for. “Just...never been in a situation where that was a realistic thing that could happen, I guess. It's not really something that I seek out. I'm there to work.”

“You've never wanted to?” Wooyoung then says, tone dropping slightly and a small shift of his leg. It's enough that you can ignore it, but with your face fully visible to him now, you're not sure how much you can fake it if he starts to catch on and get braver. “Never desired someone?”

He's extremely perceptive.

“And what about you?” you ask back, table turned to grant you some proverbial breathing room. “Hongjoong sure made it seem like this was the sort of thing you do often.”

“Hongjoong is terrible at keeping his mouth shut, that much is for sure,” Wooyoung chuckles, then reaching forward with one hand and finding the hem of your dress — pressed up the length of your thigh only slightly due to his own having your legs agape. “But he is right, I do like older women.”

“So you just hit on every stylist that comes into contact with you?” you laugh, trying to ignore the burning sensation of his fingers playing with the cloth on your thigh, or the way that his eyes are smoldering and locked onto you.

“No, of course not, I'd have had a reputation that you'd have heard of by now if that were the case.”

That was true.

“So no, hitting on the stylist isn't a first for me, if you must know,” he adds coyly, hand now slowly sliding up and against your bare skin. You freeze against his touch. Is this really happening? Here? Now?

“I play with a lot of them for fun, and they play with me, but rarely does it leave the fitting room.”

You swallow hard, and when he shifts again suddenly you aren't prepared — his words, his touch, it's all too distracting for when the press against you comes — breath hitching in your throat for a split second before biting your lip in an attempt to pull the involuntary reaction back.

Too late, though.

Wooyoung looks down, seeing the positioning of his leg between your own and finally makes the connection with a devilish grin — looking up at you from through eyelashes, he hums in response, hand that had once begun a journey up your leg now stilled at the outer side, fingers playfully dipping into the elastic of your panties as if having a plan in mind all along.

“Oh, I see,” he sing-songs at you, deliberately pushing up and into you for the first time, and it certainly makes the difference — your head falling back against the steel lightly. “You know it's funny, I genuinely did not mean to do that.”

“Don't laugh,” you sigh out, now on your last leg of having the composure to not give in to him, and to yourself. “I'm not going to have sex with you, I don't have sex with clientele.”

Humming again, the man begins a steady, slow pace of flexing his thigh up and against you, hand coming around to feel what he can of you that isn't taken up by the space of his leg, and with his fingertip only finding slick wetness that water doesn't have, he smiles again.

“Fine,” he responds with a tone that's only just above a whisper. “But I can still make you come.”

“Shut up,” you whimper out, knowing that your resolve is falling away with every second that you're near him and even faster with every word that he says. You say that you won't fuck him, but truth be told: you're not completely convinced of it yourself. “I—, I—“ you attempt to say, always cut off by the way he feels against you, and even distracted by the lone finger that gently rubs at you from the side as best as he can.

You open your eyes, an attempt to come back down to earth from how quickly you're giving yourself up to this man, but your eyes immediately drop to catch the protrusion in his sweatpants — still wet and fabric clinging to the girth, you swallow hard and bring your eyes back up fast.

That knowledge was the last thing you needed if you were to make any sort of strong attempt not to have sex with him.

“Like what you see?” Wooyoung says playfully, a nod to the silly line often heard in comedies or pornography.

Unfortunately, you do.

You feel him shifting again, having to mull up the braves to allow your eyes to fall back down that way to find out what it was he was up to, and once the courage is mustered, you grant it to yourself.

It was a mistake.

“God,” is all you whisper out at the sight — Wooyoung's beautiful hand wrapped loosely around himself, lazily stroking in time with the ministrations of his leg up and against you, and it's all just a little bit too much.

“Watch,” he says, this time no jest in his voice and the pace of his thigh picking up just slightly. “You don't want to watch me?”

In the moment, you think that you would literally not ever want to watch anything other than that ever again.

Eyes coming back down, first to meet his own — half-lidded and mouth slightly parted, a beautiful sight before you, the visual of him palming over himself for your viewing pleasure — getting off on nothing else but the sight of you riding his leg.

The visual serves to be more stimulating than you'd have liked to admit, feeling the familiar bubbling in your abdomen, you try to find something that you can brace your hands on to give yourself more leverage — since the both of you are now resigned to letting this moment play out — and Wooyoung catches on quickly, choking out a “use me,” between steady, rhythmic pumps of his fist along himself.

You lean forward, hands on his shoulders again — now able to feel him work himself beneath you as you rut against his leg and if you weren't already so worked up, you might have been embarrassed about how quickly your orgasm approaches you.

“W—Wooyoung, I—“

“Good, good girl,” he groans, rhythm of his arm beginning to give out at the implications of your orgasm fast approaching, but it's the next words that truly wreck you. More than you may have ever anticipated outside of that singular moment in time.

“Use me.”

And it breaks you. Orgasm washing over you — it's not particularly hard or overwhelming, the circumstances not exactly granting themselves to having an earth shattering sexual experience, but Wooyoung follows you shortly after — high pitched whine escaping him as his eyes screw shut, ropes of cum painting his fisted fingers as he gently finishes himself just next to you.

Taking his messy hand from himself and into your own, you bring it up and to your lips, the man before you catching on quickly despite a hazy come down and shortened breath; two of his fingers part your lips and press inside shallowly at first, then slightly deeper as he feels the way that your tongue wraps around him to clean his cum from them.

All the while with unbroken eye contact, when Wooyoung finishes imagining the way that your mouth would feel around his cock, he snorts, pulling his hand from you and grinning.

“Nah,” he begins, gently attempting to dislodge himself from between your legs. “You're definitely going to fuck me.”

With two weeks down after that late night stuck in the rain, without so much as a single sly comment about the goings on of that evening, you resign yourself to the understanding that he had gotten the interest out of his system.

And you suppose now, with the imminent danger of potentially going where you've never gone before and crossing that line, you can admit to yourself that deep down, you're a little disappointed in that fact. He had made quite the compelling case, after all.

And a beautiful cock, at that.

You do, however, find it charming that his behavior never really changes towards you. Even in spite of the bizarre intimacy that comes with watching the other come without having ever so much as shared a kiss, Wooyoung plops himself into your stylist chair just as he always has — hair a mess and tank top a bit too loose for your liking given your coming to terms with not ever having sex with him, you allow yourself one good look across the expanse of skin he's happy to show, and even with knowing that he sit in the reflection watching your eyes rake over him with a slight curl of his lip, you still can't help yourself.

Besides, what's one more good look? It's not the only part of him you've seen.

Tapping on his phone as you begin brushing into his hair from behind, Wooyoung asks you how you are today, just as normal. No suspicious tone, seemingly no ulterior motive.

“The same as always, how are you?” you respond, still tugging at the strands.

“Better now that I get to see my work wife,” he quickly responds, as if the entire premise of the conversation had simply been a set up for him to lay this one on you.

And if his intent was to trip you up, you were ashamed at how well it worked, freezing up instantly just before shaking it loose and carrying on. “Work wife? Is it okay that you joke like that?”

“Why not?” Wooyoung chuckles, looking up at you through the reflection of the mirror in front. “Also, your legs look crazy in those jeans.”

Heat rushing to your face, not wanting to look to either side at whether or not another stylist or member is listening in on the conversation, you lean down toward him and rush to a whisper. “Okay you definitely can't say that!”

“Of course not,” Wooyoung whispers back, turning his head just an inch to nearly meet your skin with his mouth. “Let me see you.”

Instantaneously, you pull back from him — back into working position and fight back the embarrassment of what's taking place. Wooyoung only grins again, looking back down to his phone and not pushing the topic any further.

When the guys begin exiting the room one by one to begin shooting, Wooyoung exits last, but not before stuffing his hand into the back pocket of your pants and maintaining a knowing eye contact with you for far too long.

You want to think that he left something in your pocket, but knowing him, just wanting to touch your ass isn't a possibility you can completely write off.

When the rest of the staff leave besides the other stylists, you manage to pull away just enough to check your pocket, feeling the presence of a small slip of paper — clearly what Wooyoung had intended on you finding, with a phone number scribbled on it. Nothing else.

Sure, you wish to be stronger than to give into the allure of the sexy, younger guy that you work with, but you'd be lying to yourself if you said that you weren't delighted at the prospect that he had not, in fact, lost interest just yet.

>you: hey, it's me.

It's all you send. Playing it cool and not at all desperate being paramount in this exchange now in order to maintain your dignity.

After all, you said you wouldn't have sex with him and now here you are, texting him knowing fully well that that is precisely what he's after. Perhaps you just needed a push in the right direction, but not without being able to feign a lack of interest, first.

It's only fifteen minutes later that he responds, and given you know they're recording, you expected it to be longer.

>big trouble: who is this? who is me?

You roll your eyes, but immediately move to reply.

>you: you know who, the woman whose ass you just groped so that I would contact you.

The signal of his typing pops up just as quickly.

>big trouble: you'll have to be more specific :p

He begins typing again.

>big trouble: kidding, what do you have me saved as in your phone? don't use my name!!

>you: oh darn I actually had it saved as group name plus full name and flashed it around when you replied, is that going to be a problem?

You become hyper aware of how you're smiling at your phone in the presence of other people, you try to bite it back as to not raise any awareness, but relatively unsuccessful in doing so.

He is so fucking charming, and fuck if you didn't enjoy his company.

A few more minutes pass before he begins typing again, close to ten when a response finally comes through.

>big trouble: sorry replies are gonna be spotty until we get out of here. let me see you.

You realize now, upon him saying it to you again — that you're not even entirely sure of what he means by that. See you: naked? Date? Outside of here? Too many options to just assume, but you also hate to ask — stomach bubbling with anxiety at the prospect of what it could mean, you realize that even you have to figure out just what, exactly, your intentions are with this guy.

But if you want to know something, all you can do is ask.

>you: what do you mean “see me”

Immediate typing again.

>big trouble: not at work, preferably with your legs over my shoulders and my face buried in your pussy.

Locking your phone you immediately press it face down and into the couch cushion next to you. Inhaling deeply, you close your eyes for a second to recollect yourself; steady breathing, and desperately trying to ignore the ache growing between your legs from just a single line of text.

You feel your phone vibrate again and can't even be sure you're ready to read whatever insane thing he's sent next, but suppose you can't just leave him on read. Not on that note.

Not when you're particularly interested in the proposition yourself.

Slowly picking your cell back up, carefully looking around to make sure no one can spy in — now not necessarily about it being who you're texting but generally speaking sexting is frowned upon in professional settings — you illuminate the screen to confirm that the incoming message is indeed, from him.

You open it.

>big trouble: i'm flexible though, actually hope you are too <3

Sick with how you can hear his tongue in cheek tone even through text, you get it together enough to finally begin typing out a response — not entirely sure what to say, given you don't necessarily want to agree to doing anything with the man just yet, and especially not like this.

>you: is that a good idea?

With some time having passed since his reply, you know that he's probably off working again — setting your phone down you exhale heavily, leaning your head back against the couch.

But all you can think about is Wooyoung's sandwiched between your thighs.

The buzzing from your phone brings you back, and you open it in more of a hurry than maybe you would have liked — much too eager to find the next insane thing that the man has to say to you.

>big trouble: oh no it definitely isn't

>big trouble: that's kind of the fun of it though

>big trouble: get into a little trouble with me, but i'll make it worth your time if you let me

You don't doubt him for even a second. Another text comes in.

>big trouble: I think you want to play with me, like a little bit

In the moment, the only thing that you can offer in response is that you'll think about it, still not completely willing to give yourself up to the desire of having him, or letting him have you — an obvious conquest of sorts on his end, of which he seemingly stacks up notches on his bed post — but you need time to decide if you're willing to make peace with being just that in exchange for getting what it is that you want from him, anyways.

Mutually beneficial? Absolutely. You just have to decide if the juice is worth the squeeze.

Two days out from wrapping filming, backstage is hectic — corridors lined with people running back and forth, darting in and out of rooms and racks of clothing and shoes serving as a make shift obstacle course everywhere you go, it's nothing you're not used to, and despite working for ATEEZ as a group, in ways you found yourself assuming the position as Wooyoung's handler in particular — occasionally Hongjoong's as well, enjoying his quips and stories as sort of an old soul in the body of a young man who took comfort in placing himself in otherwise awkward scenarios between you and the man you were almost definitely going to have sex with — you could only assume that Hongjoong had caught wind, and not because Wooyoung told him, but because he was quick on the uptake.

And he found it humorous.

Winding through the halls pushing the both of them out and ahead of you towards where they need to go, it's Hongjoong first who greets the senior idol exiting their dressing room to the left, then Wooyoung, and then you.

But you know them already.

One of the idols of the groups that you already get on with quite well, it's a friendly greeting, and you certainly can feel Wooyoung watching it all too intently — as if trying to poke a hole in a story once told to him in fabrication.

Saying your goodbyes, the three of you push forward again, not long before reaching just back stage and to your destination. You pull Hongjoong first, doing some last minute touches on his hair and eye makeup before sending him on his way, then Wooyoung — pouting like a baby as you press fingers into the sides of his hair that had fallen and now needed retouching.

“Oh geez, what?” you huff out quietly, thankful for the goings on around you that no one would hear you even if any one had time to stop and eavesdrop on the conversation.

“You two were cozy, huh?” he says — playfully, but you think it might be a ruse.

Wiping excess hair wax from his temple and shoving a clip into your mouth due to lack of hands, you look him dead in the eyes. “Wooyoung, I haven't slept with him, oh my God—“ you exasperate, slicking more product into his head, “and even if I had, none of your business.”

You watch as his eyes narrow, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth at your bitter words and begins to curl his lips into a smile just before telling him that he's finished and to go do his job.

“I know,” he says under his breath, leaning forward momentarily. “Was just hoping to hear the story if there was one.”

It's sinister in tone, like he's already getting off a little on the prospect of hearing about you getting fucked by another man, and the more you think of it in that split second, the less you would even be surprised if that had been the case. But Wooyoung continues to look at you as he steps backwards and towards where it is he needs to go — a display of power, in ways.

You're not sure you could run this guy off if you tried.

Hours later into the evening and close to midnight, you just about finish packing up your things, placing bags by the door next to all of the other stylists and managers items also eager and ready to head off and get rest before the last day of filming before you catch from the corner of your eye — phone laid out on the table and face up, illuminated in the dim lighting of a room soon to no longer be occupied for the day. Stretching your arm out and reaching towards it, almost immediately you recognize the length of name on the screen that alerts you of who it is that's contacting you.

You glance around yourself, just to be sure.

>big trouble: let me see you tonight.

Stomach jumping into your chest, to say yes to him is a big step. You're aware that at any point in time you can rescind said yes, but all the same — even just the logistics of getting him into your place to begin with comes with it's own set of worries and challenges and truth be told; you hadn't put any thought into such a plan.

But you still kind of wanted to.

>you: how?

He begins typing just as quickly as your response sends.

>big trouble: i'll take my managers car, just say yes if it's yes don't worry about the rest.

Realistically you know that it's him on the line. Sure, it wouldn't look great for you as a freelancer if it started getting around that you take home men from work, but not nearly the same career expectations are in place. You take a second to mull it over before attempting to respond. He sends another text through in the meantime.

>big trouble: please if I have to see you in those jeans again and not suffocate in your cunt I think i'll fucking die.

You appreciate his eagerness, as does the throb between your legs in anticipation. He sure knows how to talk to a lady.

And despite the reluctance, you give in, sending over your address in the next text, along with the demand that if he not be there by 12:30am to not bother showing up at all, it's a long work day the next one, after all.

An immediate reply again, you pull your bags onto your arms and head out of the doorway before reading his response.

>big trouble: I have every intention of putting you to sleep.

When 12:18am ticks on the oven clock in your kitchen, one glass of wine down in anticipation and an attempt to calm your nerves, you start to assume that he's not coming. Perhaps he had come to his senses, or got held up and wasn't able to make it.

But just as suddenly as the thought comes to you, a buzzing on your door sounds, and your heart drops to your stomach — bubbling in anxiety and the possibility of what's going to happen now. Now that the both of you will be properly alone. Now that...he's here, and with hours to spare.

Setting the glass down onto the table, you clear your throat and make your way towards the door, checking the peep hole despite knowing precisely who it is that you will find — it's charming, in a way: Wooyoung standing there in baseball cap and mask, heavily bundled in an attempt to not be found out on his naughty little rendezvous. He's brave, you gotta give it to him.

Opening the door slowly, Wooyoung slips in, pulling both adornments from his head before you're even able to close the door completely, then moving to kick his shoes off. He looks at you, shrugging his jacket off and placing it onto the rack just next to him.

“I can't believe you're still wearing those fucking jeans.”

And as taken aback as you are by it being the first words to leave his mouth upon entering your apartment, more than that, you're taken by being immediately pushed back and towards the couch — his eyes flat and narrow and completely darkened by lust as your behind eventually finds the cushion and Wooyoung immediately falls to his knees between your legs.

Pulling himself up and beginning to grapple with the button and zipper of your jeans, he leans up and finally kisses you — for the first time, you're reminded again — plush, hot lips messily pressing into your own, it's evident just in that contact alone how much he's been wanting this moment, greedy and quick and not at all making a point of taking his time before pulling away to loosen the fabric from your legs and toss it elsewhere on the floor beside him.

Wooyoung comes back up, kissing you again and just as hungrily as before — feeling his fingers dip into the elastic hip of your panties, before once again pulling back to release those of you as well.

He breaks the cycle then, bringing up the flat of his fingers against your pussy to feel the heat radiating off of your skin before looking up at you and resuming said cycle — pressing his mouth hard against yours again, trailing down the corner and along your jaw — teeth grazing lightly against the skin as the tip of his middle finger gently dips between your folds to tease at you. Breath hitching in your throat at the contact, you feel him grin into your skin.

“W—Wooyoung,” you choke out, intensity of the situation all consuming and somehow more heavy set than you had even expected.

“What?”

But you forget what it was you were even planning on saying once his finger makes proper contact with your clit — perhaps it was nothing, just an airy exasperation of his name altogether, but just as quickly as everything else the man between your legs pulls from you and pulls you down by the legs, ass edging on the side of the sofa and propping your legs up on his shoulders just as he had said he would — wasting no time thereafter going to work on you.

And you didn't expect him to be lying about what he would or wouldn't do if given the opportunity, but his eagerness right then and there — tongue pressing hard circles into your clit just before applying ample suction against you with his lips, not unwilling to make a mess of himself in the process and, from what you can tell, all the more delighted in doing so as his face glistens with each time that he pulls away to reposition — with eyes screwed shut and one arm tossed over your face in an attempt to stay grounded, the other reaches down, finding its way along the top of his head, fingers curling into hair that only hours earlier you were neatly decorating and clipping into place — hair now entangled and tightly gripped as Wooyoung makes alarmingly quick work of your body from your living room floor.

Bringing a hand up, he delicately presses one finger in, finding little resistance, and adds a second upon his following drive into you. Hand pumping into you at a slow, almost excruciating pace, Wooyoung focuses all of the attention on sucking you harder, faster with the way that your breaths pick up and become weaker, whines higher pitched than before — and if you weren't close before, the additional stimulation gets you climbing that peak all that much faster, gripping hard into his hair as you whimper out his name again, this time far more broken than the time previously.

But like a good man, he doesn't stop — bringing his eyes up to watch as you fall apart above him, you open your eyes only briefly to take in the sight, his eyes smiling back at you with the pretty little adornment of the beauty mark just beneath one.

You cuss, grinding hard down and against his mouth, and come undone against him just like that. Wooyoung sucks you through your orgasm, shallowly pressing fingers into you before removing them altogether as your high dissipates. Chest heaving, you lie in the afterglow of your peak, eyes still closed from exhaustion in the aftermath.

Wooyoung chuckles from between your legs. Cracking open your eyes, you find him settled back and on his heels, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he looks at you with unbridled satisfaction.

“I've been dying to do that,” he finally says, leaning forward and snaking the palms of his hands up your bare thighs, thumbs catching on the hem of your shirt and pressing upwards with insistence that you allow him to remove it. You grant him the access, pulling your back off of the couch long enough for him to pull the fabric up and over your head and watching as he happily tosses it elsewhere before leaning down and pressing his mouth against your own again.

The kiss is brief though, before a man on a mission makes his way back down from where he came but with stops along the journey — nimble hands reaching around the back of you and working to remove your bra — before you even have a moment to settle, plump, warm lips and tongue press into your now exposed flesh and the feeling of him; so encompassing and overwhelming has you squirming in desire beneath him as if you hadn't just come already.

“I need you,” he whispers into your skin, tongue circling your nipple between commentary. “Please, I need to feel you so bad, you drive me crazy.”

You're not sure what it is, the unabashed neediness or just the fact that it's him or maybe even the combination of the two — a man so young and famous and sexy that he could have anyone he desired and yet right now, in this moment, he makes you feel as though the only person or thing he's ever desired so badly in his life...is you.

It's as if the burning throb of arousal never even left you.

“Noona, please.”

It wasn't typically something that did it for you, and in fact, you never understood why it really 'did it' for anyone — but you had to be honest, it was working for you now.

Needy whining, begging, spilling from Wooyoung as his mouth lingers across the expanse of exposed skin. You ask him to take his shirt off and he follows through immediately, only to come back up to pick up where he had left off, but the feeling of his own hot skin against your own only serving to light you up even further.

“Switch places,” you whisper to him, and he follows order without question, pulling up quickly and allowing you space between his legs. Palms grazing over the top of his thighs, you smile up at him at the sight before you. “Same sweats as that one night?”

“Coincidence,” he answers, voice already slightly broken at the implications of what's to come, so you waste no time gripping into the waistband of his pants and pulling down his legs, freeing him and finally becoming more acquainted with what it was that had your interest really piqued since that night only a couple of weeks prior.

“Don't seem so tough now, you know,” you mock, taking his length into your hand and lazily pumping him, his eyes glued to the way you make contact on him.

“Wait until I get you in the bedroom,” he answers, tone lower and less broken now — as if snapping back to reality to assert some form of dominance that had never really had a place in the interaction prior.

You inch forward, taking him into your mouth shallowly, tongue wrapping circles along the tip as he melts into your mouth — both hands coming forward to hold onto your hair. He's not rough, and not assuming the pace, but with every press down of your mouth along him you take him deeper and deeper, his mouth dropping open just that much more at the feeling of your warmth along his shaft.

“Feel so good, you feel so good,” he chants under his breath as you bob along him — a steady rhythm but not so fast with intent to get him there, Wooyoung's head falls back to take in the feeling. “That's it baby, you take it so well.”

The praise has your pussy throbbing all over again, pace on his cock quickening unbeknownst to you just at the prospect of what other filthy things will fall from those beautiful lips.

So, you play along.

Pulling off of him briefly and replacing the sensation with your hand, you look up at him, quickly fisting him and occasionally licking a circle around the tip. “Yeah? That why you like older women? Like the experience?”

Wooyoung groans at the words as if you accidentally stumbled upon some kink that he hadn't made you all that privy to to begin with, hips bucking up into your hand as his eyebrows furrow, “Yeah, know your way around a cock, don't you?”

“I do,” you answer, stuffing him back into your mouth without warning and taking him down a few times just to listen to him groan deeply at the sight and sensation before pulling back up. “Hoping I fucked that guy back there just so you could be sure?”

“Little bit,” he chuckles through a whine as you continue to jerk him off along side the conversation. “Kinda like hearing about it, too.”

“Nasty boy,” you tease in reply, licking a stripe up his shaft before circling around the head of his cock again and watching the way his eyes roll back.

But just as suddenly, Wooyoung snaps forward, pulling your hand off of him and standing up to pull you with him towards the bedroom. “This one?” he asks, simultaneously shoving you inside of it as if the answer you provided wouldn't have matter to begin with, but you assure him that it is, in fact, the correct room as he continues pulling you towards the bed — turning to lie himself on it first before reaching for your wrist and pulling you down to straddle his hips.

You assume the position, grinding gently against his length as he brings you into a sloppy kiss again, you pull off of him not long thereafter, hands flat against his chest as you slide against him.

“All this talk just so I can ride you, eh? Lazy boy,” you say with the same teasing voice as before.

But Wooyoung shakes his head, hands quickly making their way up the length of your thighs and settling on your waist as you hover above his aching cock.

“I just have to see you ride my cock, please, I'll fuck you stupid afterwards, I'll have you begging for it, baby—“ he pleads, one hand slipping down between the two of you to align himself with your entrance, other hand gently pulling you down onto his shaft as he continues on. “—Wanted me to fill you up that night, but I'll do it tonight instead.”

It's an unfortunate giveaway the way his words have such an affect on you, already nearly fully seated on him when the nasty implications of the plans he has for you that evening drop from his sinful lips — walls clenching hard around him, so much so that he groans at the feeling as you sink down to fully take him in. Wooyoung's fingers dig into the skin of your hips as you gently begin to rock against him, thick girth of him tugging at you in all of the ways that you knew it would when you saw it — so full and stretched that even the slightest movement pulls at your clit as you ride him ever so delicately. You whimper shortly thereafter at the feeling he provides you, your nails now digging into the skin of his chest as he watches the space between the both of your hips — watching how your cunt struggles to accommodate his size and yet does so regardless, he allows his head to fall back against the mattress, taking in the feeling of the moment as you bite back your pathetic, flustered, sounds.

“Feel so good, baby,” he finally says, rubbing your thighs as you attempt to ride him to any useful degree. “Is it what you wanted? When you thought about it, is it better?” he adds, pressing his hips up ever so slightly to meet your own as you drop down onto him, a louder hiss dropping from you at the added friction.

“Awww,” he coos teasingly as he watches the way you struggle on top of him. “Mommy's good at talking but not so good at taking it, huh?”

You're not proud of the way that sentence goes straight to your pooling arousal.

And just as quickly, Wooyoung pulls you off of him to switch you places, pressing your back to the mattress as he adjusts himself between your legs.

“I can come in you?” he asks suddenly, and it feels almost random, as if breaking scene in a film. So sudden that you almost don't catch it, but coming back to reality, you nod.

“Uh, y—yeah.”

“Oh, this is going to be so much fun,” he replies, leaning back down and pressing his chest into your own to kiss you — head of his cock teasingly dangling just against your pussy and occasionally grazing your sensitive clit, you press your hips up and into him in an attempt to make the contact that you want, Wooyoung chuckling devilishly against the skin of your chin and neck as you struggle to achieve what you set out for.

“Not as good at taking my cock as I thought you'd be,” he playfully pouts, lips attaching into the skin just at the juncture of your neck and shoulder to suck red and purple blotches into it. “But mommy, you were supposed to be so good.”

The tone in which the words drop from his lips, quite evidently mocking, playful, toying with you and the idea of the age play of it all. You knew that this was part of it for him, you had been warned.

But you didn't know it was going to do it for you, in addition.

“Guess we have to try again,” he whispers, lips trailing up a bit higher and just under your ear. “Probably better off if I'm in control, huh?”

With that, Wooyoung begins his slow drive into you once again — for a man that talks so much about your inability to take him, and being in control, you find his attention to your comfort almost surprising — not taking it quickly and giving you ample time to adjust to the intrusion even in spite of it not being the first time that night that you had taken him, once bottomed out, he settles for a few moments; kissing and sucking along your neck, along with babbling words of affirmation and encouragement all the while before pulling his hips back and slowly pressing forward once again.

The fullness of him is almost stifling, though — and paired with the fact that he won't shut the fuck up through it.

Five or six more delicate drives into you and Wooyoung begins to settle into a more fluid pace, rocking his hips against your own with hard impact but not entirely quick, every push of his cock into you more brutal than the last as he hovers above you and watches the way your face contorts with glee.

“Look at you, so good,” he groans in between snaps of his hips, hands flat against the mattress and on either side of your head to watch the way your cunt takes him. “Aww, I was wrong, you take my cock so well, I knew you would.”

Clenching hard around him with praise, your hands clasp around his arms, nails digging into the tan, hot skin with every drive of himself against you — the sound of wet skin against skin reverberating through your bedroom, and more than that, the sight of Wooyoung's bottom lip sucked up and between his teeth — arms and chest flexing with every movement of his hips.

The familiar feeling of your impending orgasm felt building once again at a particularly hard thrust from him, you cry out, catching his attention. Wooyoung slows, not entirely sure of how to take the sound, but is just as quickly met with your babbling and begging of him not to stop, to which he grins and resumes his rough pace into you.

Leaning down and wrapping an arm up and under your shoulder for more leverage to pull your body down and against him, chest to chest like this, Wooyoung continues his previous ministrations on your skin with his mouth, nipping and sucking at the skin of your neck, collar bones, jaw and mouth as he fucks hard into you — harder now with the positioning, you cry out again and louder even, much to his delight.

“Fuck, Wooyoung—“ you whisper against his mouth, feeling your orgasm threatening in the not so distant future.

“Yeah baby?” he coos back, so gentle in tone and completely opposing the brutality of the way he's fucking you. “Gonna come? Gonna come for me? Just from my cock, nothing else?”

You nod wildly, the way he's talking to you bringing you to the edge even faster — muscles tightening in your abdomen and losing the ability to verbally communicate to much extent at all.

“Good, good, you're so good,” he babbles into your skin, grip on your shoulder tightening even more. “Love it when you say my name, God you're so perfect.”

You whine, pulling forward to press your mouth into his shoulder just in front of you.

“Want me to come inside of you now? Make you mine? You know I want to so bad, want to fill you up so bad.”

Your insides twist at the way he's nearly begging to, despite already having been given the go ahead to do so. All a part of the game, you figure.

It's working, though.

You nod again, but Wooyoung brings his free hand over and to your clit, taking it between his fingers and thumb to force you into eye contact with him.

“Gotta say it, noona, can you say it for me?”

Your fingers dig into him harder, you're reaching inevitability much faster than you had originally intended with the way that he's talking to you, and the anticipation of just what it is he'll say next.

You knew he was gonna be a wild ride, but you didn't anticipate him to be this much of a freak.

“God, noona, please say it, please noona say you want me to come in you, I want to so bad.”

“Wooyoung, Jesus, I'm gonna—“

But he stills, cock buried deep inside of you as you whine at the loss of your incoming peak, shocked at the fact that he would do it.

You're not proud of your next step, either.

“Wooyoung, please, please, don't stop—“ you beg, trying to fuck yourself onto him in an attempt to reach your orgasm, and he does start a drive into you again, albeit much more delicate and less hearty than previous.

“Wow, so whiny,” he chides against your ear, shallowly thrusting into your soaking wet cunt with no intention behind it at all. “I'll give you what you want noona — thick, young, cock to come around, yeah?” he whispers, the words sending chills down your spine paired with the way that the tip of his length dips in and out of you teasingly.

“That what you want?” he whispers again.

“Yes,” you whine in response.

“Want me to come in you too, don't you?” he adds, nose nuzzling into the side of your face as he begins a proper push of his length back inside of you. “Fill you up? Pump a nice, hot load into your tight little cunt?”

It's the first time in the night that his dirty talk had been so lewd, so filthy. Slow drive of his cock back into you and even with the tiniest friction that it provides, just the words alone have you building back up to that place that only moments ago he had stripped from you just as quickly.

You'll do and say anything, now.

“Yes, Wooyoung, please,” you whisper, his hips snapping into you two, three times at the words. “Please daddy—“

The both of you stop as a point of both shock and confusion, neither expecting the word dropping out so suddenly, and not one typically on your repertoire, but Wooyoung seems to take it happily and in stride with an accompanying small giggle, quickly falling into the role that is required of him and driving hard against your hips at the pace once lost all over again — teeth baring against your cheek as he does so.

“Daddy? Well I wasn't planning on it but if you want it so bad,” Wooyoung grits out, reaching down with one hand and pulling one of your legs up and out. “I can fuck a baby into you, too. That why you want me to fill you up so bad? Want me to give you one?”

“Oh my God, Wooyoung, I—“ you groan, nails digging so hard into his skin that you fear you may actually hurt him, muscles in your abdomen tightening so suddenly, so hardly that it takes you by surprise — thick cock still pounding hard into you at an even better angle now, and Wooyoung begins kissing against your skin again.

“Feel so good around me, God, noona, come for me baby, milk me dry, wanna feel you come around my dick.”

muscles locking up, sound catching in your throat, your orgasm rips through your body with little more warning and nearly silently — stilling beneath the man as he continues to fuck you through your high, chasing his own and praising you through it as you do.

“Gonna come baby,” he groans at the impending orgasm of his own. Pulling up and off of you slightly he looks back down between the two of you before meeting your fucked out gaze again and screwing his own eyes shut. “Fuck, noona, fuck you full of me, God I'll ruin this pussy, yeah?”

Two, three more drives into you, Wooyoung buries his cock deep before stilling, head dropping as he growls through his release into you — gentle, shallow thrusts accompanying him as he begins to pull himself out of you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—“ he whispers as he finally expels his body from yours completely at the feeling of the overstimulation on his dick, flopping over onto the side of you and clenching his eyes shut for a moment as he attempts to steady his breathing in the aftermath.

Even having had more time to settle than him, you're not that much better off.

Silence takes the room beyond heavy breathing, you look over to take in the sight of the light sheen of sweat adorning the man's beautiful body, unsure if you'll ever even get the chance to enjoy this again — if you were to want to, that is. Wooyoung cards his fingers through black and gold hair, pulling most off of his slick forehead before turning to you to meet your gaze. Somewhat embarrassed upon having been caught looking at him, he only smiles gently, as if to tell you that it's okay. That the two of you are past such silly formalities, as it were.

“Hey,” you whisper, searching for his stray hand among the crumpled sheets beneath you.

“Yeah?”

“You're kind of a sicko, you know that?”

Wooyoung laughs, so much so and with such a dry throat that it sends him into a coughing fit as a result. You reach for a bottled water that you have on your nightstand and hand it to him for him to lubricate with, clearing his throat and handing the bottle back to you before attempting to respond to such accusations.

“Maybe so,” he finally says. “But you sure liked it. What's that say about you?”

“Who knows,” you reply, staring at the ceiling as if soul searching for the answers to such questions. “Maybe we're just particularly, disgustingly matched.”

“Maybe so.” Wooyoung nods, adjusting comfortably into the bed beneath him.

On the last day of filming, everything carries on as normal.

You're not entirely sure what story Wooyoung told the others as to why he never came home last night — having slept the rest of the night with you and the two of you having to devise quite the plan to leave from the same place and arrive to the same place without anyone being in on the pick up, but you figure that you manage with no bizarre or questioning looks upon your entry — and Wooyoung already seated and waiting, ready for you to begin to get to work on him.

As he ticks away on his phone, you lean down towards his head questioningly.

“Did you use my shampoo?”

“What was I supposed to use?”

“Probably not the thing that smells like me?”

You watch in the reflection as he stops for a moment to mull the concept over, quite evidently having not thought about it prior to this moment, only to shrug and go back to typing on his phone.

After shooting wraps and everyone is saying their goodbyes, you thank the members and their staff for the warm welcoming and all of their help to make sure that the work environment was comfortable and smooth for you. For Hongjoong and Wooyoung especially — who you worked with most closely — the two hug you, sending you on your way, but not before Hongjoong makes some snide comment about finally being able to escape Wooyoung.

It was true, that you would finally escape the grip of that man, however, wanting to escape? You weren't so sure.

Gently tossing your belongings into the back of a taxi, you climb in and pull your seatbelt over you, reaching towards your purse and pulling out your phone to see what your next schedule would be for the upcoming weeks, only to find a text on your phone that had come in hours prior.

>big trouble: let me see you again (not just sex way)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ hope you enjoyed! please check out my navigation for more (´｡• ᵕ •｡`)

—this is a oneshot, there will be no part 2.

#wooyoung smut #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung x you #wooyoung x y/n #wooyoung scenarios #wooyoung imagines #wooyoung fanfic #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez x you #ateez x y/n #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic

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ghoulfuckersincorporated · 4 months

Note

something tells me our ghoulie would be fond of period sex (i’ll go to horny jail now)

Bloodletting

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female Reader

Word Count: 2,839

Warnings: smut (18+), blood play, bloody cunnilingus/bloody kisses, period sex, masturbation (male), rough sex, creampie, biting.

Notes: Can't lie, this was my immediate thought watching him tear into that bloody chunk of meat for the first time. I usually try to include at least a little plot, but this is basically all porn. Very fun submission to write; thank you! Please save a good seat for me on the bench in horny jail, I'll be in promptly.

Fun fact: orgasms can help relieve period cramps for some people.

Today had been a poor choice of start point for this long walk.

Normally, trekking across the bombed out western seaboard was strenuous and uncomfortable enough, the deadly sun baking seemingly the entire planet to a crisp, the cloying dehydration, the constant danger that something or someone was around the corner, ready to eat you. It was a far cry from the safety and monotony of the vault you'd grown up in. Usually, you were able to find lots of beauty on the surface, plenty of things to appreciate. But right now everything was just awful and uncomfortable.

Menstruation was such a nightmare topside. The proper products were apparently incredibly difficult to find anymore, leaving you to make the best of things with old torn pieces of clothing and less-than-ideal medical supplies. But these things didn't provide the absorption you'd long been accustomed to, and you kept having accidents the last few days, the result of a heavier-than-average flow. Normally, these things wouldn't bother you, but it was insanely annoying to constantly feel as if you were bleeding through basically the only clothes you had, doubly so when there was no place to clean them or bathe yourself most of the time. Besides, these pants chaffed terribly when they were damp.

Months back, you'd made the choice to ditch the vault suit. It was surreal and sort of sad feeling, packing away what had truly been a symbol of your identity for so long. However, it attracted far too much attention and caused trouble when people assumed they could take advantage of you, so you'd opted to start dressing like a proper Wastelander, boiled leather armor and denim pants. Right now, however, you desperately wished you'd been wearing the suit. The absorbent liner would have saved you some of this embarrassment.

The old ghoul had been telling you some story or another as you mounted a steep hill, your mind tuning in and out in frustration. You were sweaty, cramping, bloated, and bleeding on yourself, and all you wanted was a chance to clean yourself up and sit down for a minute. Eventually, the two of you came across what looked to be the abandoned skeleton of an old repair garage, just barely maintaining its tall stance against the horizon. As the two of you began to pass it by, you paused.

"I need to stop for a bit." you said, frowning at him as he turned his gaze to the position of the sun in the sky and back to you, confusion plain on his face.

"Whassa' matter?" he asked, "You're not usually this pussy about the sun anymore. Been long enough."

He was right, you were usually able to soldier on better than this. Today wasn't one of those days, though.

"I need like ten minutes alone, okay?" you snapped, short of patience. "I just...need it."

Your companion held up his hands in a silent, play-offended gesture of surrender, stepping aside to let you walk into the ramshackle little garage.

"Ten minutes!" he called teasingly behind you, prompting you to roll your eyes despite him not being able to see it.

Dropping your bag against the wall, you quickly toed your boots off so you could shuck your pants to the ground, groaning quietly at the bloody mess between your thighs. Digging some dirty rags out of your bag, you checked the spare canteen you kept undrinkable water in. Almost empty. You wanted to cry.

You could always ask Coop for some of his, since he was prone to drinking from questionable sources. He might even give you some, close as you'd become lately, thanks to a night of whiskey and Jet by the fire that had led to other forms of entertainment.

But you'd rather not have to explain this to him. As you did your best to scrub away the rusty red covering your skin, you wondered if he even remembered that this was something that happened to women. You had no idea what you were going to do with your pants.

Apparently, time had slipped away from you, as he appeared suddenly in the doorway a moment or two later, already speaking to you like he'd been standing there the entire time.

"It's been fifteen minutes, girlie. I'll have you know--" came his halted snark, quickly cut off as the two of you made eye contact, as he took in your nakedness below the waist. You felt a creeping sense of panic, a desire to flee out the broken window to your side. Neither of you said a word, and after a moment, he stepped forward towards you, softly gripping your wrist in his hand and holding it up to examine it. His honeyed eyes flicked back and forth between the soiled rag in your bloodied hand and where you'd been attempting to clean yourself up, briefly moving over to where your pants lay crumpled up on the floor.

"I'm--" you began, wanting to explain that you were fine, but you were quickly and decisively cut off from speaking when he lifted your bloody fingers to his mouth, sucking them between his lips with an obscene sigh. Your jaw fell slack as you watched him lick them clean, feeling like you were having some sort of erotic fever dream you'd wake up from any moment. Your hormones must've been working in tandem with the sun to drive you crazy.

However, it only continued to escalate as he seized you by the wrist, dragging you a few feet forward towards the rickety, grimy couch that leaned against the back wall, shoving you just enough to make you sit right in the center, a stale plume of desert dust filling the air around you as he rucked your hips up against his chest, your calves hooking over his shoulders. One of your flailing, still-socked feet knocked his hat clear off his head, sending it tumbling down to the floor, but he didn't even seem to notice, too preoccupied with running his hands along your inner thighs, smearing through the patches of drying blood there with fascination.

Your whole face burned white-hot, but you continued to watch him closely as his hands converged at your mound, one thumb tracing lightly over your now-swollen slit, just barely grazing your bud and drawing a hiss from between your teeth. However, instead of touching you there again, as you'd hoped he would, both thumbs traced down the line of your labia, parting them softly and spreading you open for his hungry eyes to see.

This new kind of attention made you squirm a bit at its intensity, the movement making your abdominal muscles clench just right to draw a trickle of warmth from between your legs, your face reaching supernova in embarrassment, but before you could pull away, he dove forward, his mouth sealing itself over your cunt and lapping wildly. The feeling was electric and ticklish and sent you clamoring to grab onto anything for leverage, letting out a screech that was half giggle and half moan.

He had done this before, gone down between your legs and licked and tasted and teased you until you couldn't handle it anymore, and always with great enthusiasm (and more than a little smugness, frankly), but never with a hunger like this. His thick tongue traced back and forth along your folds, seeking out every sanguine drop before dipping back down to your entrance, the wriggling muscle slipping inside with ease, drawing out another cry from you.

You were on fire, being teased more than you could handle; his tongue felt amazing, but largely avoided where you really wanted it to be, leaving you pushing and grinding your hips against his face as best as you could in your strange, folded over position. With one proper swivel, you managed to brush your clit against the bony ridge that sat at the top of where his nose would have been, scraping just right and sending you bucking right back at the same angle. The rough way you pushed against him was met by his hands curling under your ass, attempting to yank you even closer to his face as you felt that knot in your gut begin to tighten.

"Oh god, Coop, I'm gonna cum." you gasped, nails digging into his scalp as your thighs pulsed around his head. The older man, typically quite silent for most of the performance, let out a rather loud groan at that, and the sound was enough to push you right into a tense, crying orgasm, your little mewls ringing off the ancient concrete walls. If he were any other man, you'd worry about smothering him between your damp thighs, your scrambling hands pressing into the back of his head.

Fortunately, Cooper Howard wasn't just any man.

He continued to fuck you with his tongue through your climax, dragging it out for what felt like minutes. However, once you finally came down from that euphoric peak, he didn't stop, his tongue continuing to slather across you in full, wide strokes, his fingers moving up to tease at your oversensitive clit.

This, too, he had done before, this beautiful torture of keeping you constantly on the verge of a new orgasm despite still riding the wave of your current one. You both loved and hated it, feeling like every nerve in your body was alive with electricity, but simultaneously on the verge of pain from all the sensation. Presently, you loved it a lot more than you hated it, feeling the tight, cramping muscles in your belly relax just a little with your release. Glimpsing down at him once more, you could see that he'd tugged his hard cock free from its confines, jerking himself enthusiastically.

The ghoul's lips wrapped back around your clit, long, nimble fingers probing your saliva-slicked entrance. Two of them slid inside to the hilt before you even really registered their presence, causing you to hiss at the slight burn of the rad-rough flesh against your sensitive insides. The suction on your bud soothed the burn, allowing you to relax, and soon a third was added alongside the first two, quickly pushing you into another sudden and intense climax, washing over you like a tidal wave as he stretched you. When he eventually pulled his hand away, it was half-covered in red.

You were still trembling hard as he quickly worked his way back down your thighs, swiping up anything he may have missed. The sensation of his tongue running along your plush flesh made you giggle, earnest and breathless, but the sound was immediately cut off with a whine when he suddenly turned and viciously sunk his teeth into the meat of your inner thigh, not hard enough to break the skin, but damn near.

This, he had never done before.

Of course, you knew the man was intimately familiar with sinking his teeth into human flesh, but feeling them against you didn't frighten you as you expected it might, the sensation exhilarating and primal. The searing, pinching pain made you squeal, and one of his ungloved hands jammed up against your lips to silence you, filling your nose with the smell of iron and gunpowder. Come the morning, you'd be sporting a gnarly bruise there. The knowledge sent another hot tremble down your spine.

Unlatching his jaw from your leg, he pulled himself up to his full kneeling height, right even with you, a wild look in his eyes you weren't sure you'd seen before. So often he had the brim of his hat to obscure them, but now they stared, wide and glassy, into your own.

His fingers fisted into the already wild hair at the back of your head, pulling your forward into a passionate, metallic-tasting kiss. You could feel the way your face attempted to stick to his where he'd smeared your blood around your mouth with his hand. Quickly, he began to lean forward over you, pressing you into the mildew covered cushions as he pulled himself on top of you. The dry-rotted frame of the couch groaned loudly in protest at the additional weight, squeaking and sighing out curses as he repositioned your legs along his hips, falling right into place to rub his throbbing prick against you. Another throaty noise left you, strangled and awkward, but you were past being able to be embarrassed right now.

It distracted you just enough when the old cowboy dropped his head into the crook of your neck, his lips dancing along your pulse point, that you didn't tense when he pushed his way inside you, burying himself nearly to the hilt in one push. Both of you let out soft, satisfied groans as you stretched taut around him, clenching hotly already after all the attention he'd given you, his heavy breathing in your ear making every hair on your body stand on end.

For a short moment, he allowed you to adjust to his girth, warm hands pushing your shirt up to expose your breasts to him. His bare hands felt like they were everywhere, swiping affectionately against your face, tugging and pinching at your nipples, eventually settling into your hair, holding your head steady and forcing you to look at him as he began to fuck you. It didn't take long before he had you built right back up, the rub of his pelvic bone against you too good.

"Go on, gimme one more, baby. I know you can." he huffed, his warm breath tickling you just right. His thumb was suddenly strumming against your puffy, sore clit again, and tears brimmed in your eyes as your muscles seized once again, whimpering almost pitifully as you gave him what he wanted.

"Attagirl." he praised, running the blunted edge of his teeth along your throat as your body tugged at him. Your breathing was hard to control, making you see spots as he shifted your calves back over his shoulders, basically folding you in half once more as he pulled himself up higher and began to rut into you in earnest. The blunt head of his cock slammed into your tender cervix like this, making you jump and whine, but your legs only tightened around his shoulders, pulling him closer as he used your body to get himself off.

Suddenly, there was a loud crack, and the entire couch frame collapsed into a plume of dust, even worse than before, making you screech in shock. Cooper, however, seemed to barely notice, his pace not even slowing as he shifted you a few inches away from a busted 2x4 sticking out in your direction, pressing you harder into the cushions that were now trapped beneath you. Nevertheless, he did seem to be making sure you were okay in his own way, his wild eyes and insistent hands checking over every visible inch as he continued to pump between your thighs. When he dropped his mouth to your breasts, you throbbed around him, cooing as he sucked and nipped at your breasts.

"Fuck." he growled at the sensation, his hips slapping against you even harder, but in less coordinated strokes, his head heavily dropping back into the crook of your neck again, his entire weight resting on you now.

As you felt him begin to throb inside you, signaling his own release, you also felt those strong teeth latch onto the sensitive skin where your neck met your shoulder, digging deep into the smooth muscle as you screamed. You could hear your lover groaning loudly as he gave you a few more rough strokes, his teeth keeping firm at your neck as he pulsed every last drop of himself inside you. Beyond the pinching pain repeating itself, you could feel the burn of him sucking hard on the flesh between his teeth, trying to mark you up as visibly as possible. Remarkably, this was enough to push your oversensitive body into one last muted orgasm, leaving you shuddering against his chest.

Once his teeth released you, his strong arms wrapped around your body, carefully flipping you so that you laid across his chest, the leather of his clothing sticking eagerly to your sweaty skin. No one said anything for a few minutes, his fingers dancing along your spine, tracing the outline of the bite on your shoulder and earning a small whimper, which he chuckled at. Things were strangely blissful.

"Yeah, I think I'm gonna need another fifteen minutes, boss." you sighed eventually, snuggling your face against the smooth leather of his vest and breathing in the smell of violence and sex.

"You can have ten." he responded, drawing a look from you until the hand that had been kneading away at your ass cheek slipped down further, rough fingers teasing at your abused entrance once more, pushing what was leaking out of you back inside.

"Oh? And what happens then?" you asked, trying hard to keep your hips still against his sinful hand and failing.

"Then we're going again."

#men who jerk off when they eat pussy go to heaven #cooper howard #the ghoul #cooper howard smut #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #fallout tv show #fallout prime #submission

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hunterwritings · 11 months

Text

𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 | 𝐥𝐢𝐧 𝐤𝐮𝐞𝐢 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐨

request: "Hello, can you write headcannons on the reader taking the Lin Kuei trio to the movies as a date?" warnings: none | notes: maybe a bit ooc? also was very tired while writing this so maybe some writing mistakes

→ 𝐁𝐢-𝐡𝐚𝐧

Bi-han is most certainly not a movie guy.

I believe he would lean towards more 'traditional' dates, like going out to dinner or late night walks.

Being the grandmaster of the Lin Kuei, he wouldn't have a whole lot of time for dates. He might also think they are a waste of time most of the time, he thinks there are better ways to show his love for you. But the few times he will initiate dates, he wants it to be somewhere remote, where it is only the two of you. Bi-han has a hard time showing his emotions, and an even harder time saying them, so he prefers to be alone with you to fully express his love.

When you give the idea of going to the movies with him, he is initially against it. He doesn't have a whole lot of movies or films that he is fond of, mostly because he thinks that it is useless fiction.

You are finally able to convince him tag along with you, convincing him that the movie you are going to see would have many fight scenes and said that the two of you could critique them together. You knew that was something you could draw him in with.

You planned a day you knew there wouldn't be many people in the theater so Bi-han wouldn't feel the need to be anxious or tense. You got decent seats in the middle of the theater.

He kept his rough hand over your own the entire time, squeezing it tightly. It was almost a security blanket for him, knowing that you were here and weren't leaving.

He paid close attention to the movie, actually getting quite interested, looking down at you a couple times with your head leaning on his chest.

Once you leave, Bi-han would be talking about the movie on the walk home, criticizing how the characters acted and none of the fight scenes would actually play out that way. Even though he was critiquing it, you knew he actually payed attention and wanted to express his thoughts with you.

→ 𝐊𝐮𝐚𝐢 𝐋𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐠

Kuai Liang thinks that movies are such a fun experience

He loves watching action-comedies with you. He also just loves the idea of being comfy and relaxing with you. Anything that involved him and you just being able to enjoy each other's presence was something he absolutely fawned over.

You told him you had this idea to go see a new adventure style comedy movie and he was filled with excitement. He will stand at the concession stand for a while until he knew that the two of you had everything you needed before watching the movie.

Always on time, usually even early so he can get snacks before the movie starts. He wants to make sure everything is perfect for you so that you can relax and be the most comfortable. Kuai Liang is always going to go out of his way to do the absolute best for you, no matter what it is. You are a god/goddess to him and he would worship you any chance he gets.

Gets really into the movie and the plot line. If you really enjoyed the movie as he did, you two will talk for hours on different parts you enjoyed and how you hope there will be another one.

On your walk home, he will tightly hold your hand while thanking you multiple times for being able to bring him along to the movies and saying how he will never get tired of going out with you. Kuai Liang will pour his heart out to you over and over again until he is drowning you in kisses from the top of your head to your collarbone.

→ 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐬

This man adores movies with you.

To be fair, Tomas adores doing almost anything with you. Any sort of outing with just the two of you makes him so happy, as if he couldn't ask for anything else.

Will watch any type of movie with you: comedy, romance, action, horror, etc.

would 100% watch Johnny Cage movies

Once you asked him to go the movies with you, his face lit up and he immediately accepted.

Will plan the entire day around you going to the movies. He will plan a lunch/dinner to go out with you before going to the movies and then would buy a handful of sweets for both you and himself from the movies concession stand. Once the movie would start, Tomas would be leaning down to your ear to comment on anything interesting he'd see in the movie or something he would laugh at with you.

Would have his arm slung around you, either around your shoulders or draped across your waist so that he could hold onto you while he looked up at the movie screen. He'd be smiling and smirking at you every couple of minutes and leaning in to press a kiss to the top of your head.

Wants to go see every new movie with you and will buy tickets early to secure seats for new and upcoming movies.

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lost-in-fandoms · 2 months

Note

An ugly Betty Maxiel au would hit so badly

hello anon!!!! I have to say, I never was a big ugly betty fan so I only have vague memories of it from the few episodes i watched with my sister, but I had a good think about this while in the shower and this is what my brain came up with.

Daniel inherits his father's company, even if he was never meant to. maybe he had been traveling around the world, or being a musician or an influencer idk whatever he felt like doing, but he's called back for some reason and he has to take over. and his family is scared he's gonna run it into the ground because he only thinks about what's fun and not what's best so they give him max (who had already been working in the company and is like...an accountant or something) as an assistant.

and they do NOT click at all, max is sooo boring and straight laced and wants daniel to do things like go to meetings or worse, listen to meetings?? and he's always talking about "researching sustainable resources" and "looking into more profitable markets" and daniel just does not care okay?

and then my brain stuttered a little because how do i fix them from here? because i do not remember the show enough to let it do it for me. and i thought maybe daniel drags max to some sort of party during working hours and max is uncomfortable and keeps trying to make him leave, but daniel forces a couple of drinks in him and somehow they end up at daniel's house, both a little buzzed, talking about their dreams. daniel talks about wanting to see the world, be his own person instead of his father's son. max talks about bettering the world, wanting to transform the way things work, even if it is one company choice at a time. and they understand each other better after that and start to work together.

and then they start falling in love.

BUT THEN!!! (and here is the plot twist dear anon) my brain said: why not reverse ugly betty AU? (i bet there is like...a movie/tv show i could reference for this but it's 2:30 am give me a break)

max who has been raised to take over his father's company. it's all he wants and knows how to do. when he does take over, he throws himself completely in it, runs it like a military camp, profits go up but so does the rate in which they have to hire new people because everyone keeps running away. and his mother and sister are worried about him, because he's so young and all he does is work work work, no more hanging out with friends, no more playing video games, zero drinking, zero fun.

and so they trick him into hiring daniel as his personal assistant. maybe victoria knows daniel through someone else, or she gets lando to give her the name of his most extravagant acquaintance. and daniel is. quite different from max. he likes to party, to live his life. he's older and never held the same job from more than a year. he's lived on people's couches multiple times before. he's moved several times in his life just because he got bored of the place.

max hates him. daniel is a terrible assistant, keeps trying to schedule breaks in his days???? cuts meetings shorts when they run over working hours? forces him to go have drinks after work????? and is always chatting and touching him and forcing him to "take the scenic route" instead of the most direct one.

he doesn't realise daniel had seen a sad kid and decided to help him. he doesn't realise it's working until he starts softening up, both at work and in his personal life.

and then they fall in love!

bestie this was very fun to think about thank you for sending this ask! and i am sorry if this isn't exactly what you were thinking about but as i said i am not an ugly betty connoisseur.

#answered #ily thank you for this!!!#now that i have written it all down i feel very silly like i am missing something #or like everything i wrote is very silly #but it's the 2 am brain talking maybe so i'll post this anyway #maxiel #my writing #sort of #i really need a tag for this #did i have a #au ideas #tag??? i think so

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fuumiku · 9 months

Text

They’re really interesting foils in many ways. I’ve always thought that Marcille & Mithrun have underrated dynamic potential. Give me the cringefail dungeon lords. Give me the elves with ears-centric metaphorical self-image issues. Give me the academic elites whose deepest strongest desires will always remain unreachable and the only option is to turn to the corrupt forbidden fruit of a demon pact. I am so so normal about Mithrun and Marcille

I wonder if the resemblance between captain Mithrun and general Hagreus aka Marcille’s fave in Dalclan is intentional… They definitely look very alike. It could represent idealization vs reality? Something something the romanticization of elves and their societal drama in their fiction vs a very real and imperfect product of their military system. The canaries certainly aren’t glamorous next to whatever Hagreus is the general of. I feel like she never had the opportunity to notice the resemblance herself bc within seconds of meeting him he was wrestling her on the ground but. If she had… She would so think he should have been his actor in the tallman stage play of Daltian Clan in that new extra comic hehe. I love the little details like Hagreus’ lips being drawn with extra details because they’re full and pretty while Mithrun’s lips are drawn with extra details because they’re chapped lmao.

This art is all silly and surface level but in my head mithrille is like so dramatic and I make up daltian clan level big plots with them gbdgd. I made a spotify playlist for mithrun if y’all interested, rn it’s mostly centered around cravings that consume and losing yourself and illusions inspired from his time as dungeon lord but it’s branching out. Varied vibes, levels of intensity and degrees of confusion and await you ✨ I would emotionally rant about Chainsaw Man ost lyrics and how they tie in with Mithrun and the winged lion’s relationship but this post is already a monster

I want more of these two please please please pleaseee just one or two interactions in the new canon content coming up… All they ever did was debate philosophy on desires and human self-fulfillment and try to murder each other, please… I never get to gush about them and I can’t shut up so if you want more thoughts I talk about them more below

To get a girl to peacefully accept arrest follow these simple steps: in private, ominously stand above her and forcefully interrogate her, while in public, tell her you’ve met before (untrue and also not a pickup line) and interrogate her with a thin veneer of decorum. If all else fails, threaten and follow through on said threat. My guy needs more than just physical therapy I’m afraid

Sorry if most of these were Marcille-centric with Mithrun standing there looking cool, if I were doing these more from Mithrun’s pov things would be like "She’s a bit much but I guess I don’t mind hanging around her." or "Oh you’re a half-elf? -insert elven supremacist rethoric-" or "I have to keep her from becoming demon stew." immediately followed by "Did someone say demon? Kill kill kill kill kill" since these are set prior to like really knowing another. Then things would be more like "huh she has bad tastes in novels but her magic research is pretty interesting" and "I’m lonely and don’t understand myself— Oh she loves talking about feelings? Oh shi-" That last one is an aspect of why I like Marcille and Mithrun’s potential dynamic lol. She’s very… Emotionally intelligent alongside being impulsive. You think you have no feelings because the world has beaten them out of you? Think again!! Marcille be upon ye! -In a therapy sort of way but mostly in a connecting with people and your own self through interpersonal relationships and talking kinda way. I just think a lively, upbeat, annoying friend way too interested in your personal life would do him good, the canaries are nice but like if Marcille went to prison and was a sort of extra new bunkmate I think that’d be interesting and fun to read is what I’m saying

Unlike Kabru she wants all the useless messy filler of his backstory, eating chips while listening. Like two chibi sets side by side, "me and my fellow canaries, name name and name-" "Hold on that’s too much info we have to compact this" vs "Then we were to sleep on the third floor of the dungeon, which had the look of a mausoleum, and name and name got into a fight over the campfire placement." while Marcille is like uh-huh what next what next while kicking her feet. She thinks of pre-dungeon pompous Mithrun and is like omg you went through a character arc and became better as a person- and then he opens his mouth and she’s like nevermind let’s keep working on that. She would also go "ew ur hair is greasy" and give him a full hair care treatment. What I’m saying is I need them to be forced to spend time in a dungeon together and become besties through a life or death roadtrip

Marcille is insecure about her ears, long, like an elf’s pride should be, but rounder, inelegant. Seeing Mithrun though, the epitome of beauty, with his half-cut ears make it a sillier thought. Not sure if Mithrun is the best person to reconnect with ur elven culture with but it sure is an option Marcille would so appreciate being around someone both cool headed and kind, I genuinely think they’d get along, like not that Senshi isn’t that too most of the time but I think Mithrun would be in a way that’s more refreshing to her. I’d be so curious about them discussing Dalclan, I doubt he’d have read it but she could make him read it, maybe post-canon with the excuse that they’re trying to find him a new hobby hah. He’d tear into the writing and everything but it’d be a fun time, I like to think that it’d make him a bit less prejudiced. Marcille @ Mithrun "👉👈 Soo maybe you don’t know these books they’re pretty recent having come out 50 years ago but…"

I’ve been in a Mithrun phase I want to make and read Mithrun-centric fics and angst so baaad. I razz him a lot here but he’s literally a traumatized military man that became obsessed with revenge due to bad coping and neglects himself in the process idk not much for him going on and some of it is because he has to work on himself, but hey no one’s perfect it all comes from a place of love and relating though I prommy. He’s the one ungodly angsty squeaky toy blorbo with brain damage rep I have don’t take him from me

#Dungeon meshi #mithrun #marcille donato #I feel like i haven’t drawn in so long i’m so rusty #Mithrille #Mithrun x marcille #Marcille x mithrun #I finally did smth for these 2 yippee #Dust and dog hairs manage to get on my drawings while i take pics it drives me mad i can’t do this anymore sorry if you see any #Continuation of my Marcille: “LET ME LOVE YOU!!” saga #Sorry marcille i hate drawing your sleeves #There are a couple things I’m not satisfied with and might redraw at one point but i need to stop and get stuff done #Marcille has 5 cm of height on mithrun according to the adventurers bible neat #Spoilers #dungeon meshi manga spoilers #I’ll move those last two tags up when I get to my computer #Character playlist #I made a more formal mithrille post on another blog explaining what potential i saw in them just search in the ship tag if you’re intereste

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lenreli · 8 months

Text

endless pawns playing a fixed game

Explicit, 7.8k, Dream/Hob. Reacher-inspired AU with an ex-spy Hob and mafia kid Dream!

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2

[AO3]

When Hob took the Endless family bodyguard position, it was mainly for the paycheck. And also a lack of breaking kneecaps for collecting debts, which he does feel some way about. More that it’s a waste of his considerable skill, but nonetheless.

Recent hushed rumours around the estate have made the Endless bosses more paranoid for their well-being, so he’s gathered in his time at the vast place.

The bosses are ― well, efficient mob, and just generally terrible people, as evidenced by shouting matches featuring Night or Time, which surely can’t be their real names―

Then again, with their children’s names, with the many different aged children also getting into screaming matches with the parents, Hob considers his lack of family a blessing, in cases like this.

The kids, with all sorts of D-name, are varied, and from what he gathered, either orphans gathered up for some good PR, or due to some twisted sense of actually wanting a family. Or maybe they were from people and former mob bosses the parents killed and raised, which would be an impressive sort of fucked up. The kids are mostly a non-issue for him as he does his job, and usually walks past a few of them throughout his days―

He’s used to seeing Death’s much-too-kind smile, to Destiny being cloistered up in the library, to Desire’s comings and goings at all hours, and surely he must’ve seen Dream somewhere before that night of the attempted poisoning.

As he looks around the room as some poor schmuck is taken, screaming and pleading, he catches blue eyes and is momentarily stunned. As Desire talks to Dream, Hob gathers that stoic, pale man mainly lives around the art quarters ― which would explain why Hob only briefly remembers him. Plus, the art quarters are very dark and moody, and this is probably the first time he’s seen Dream in actual good light, arms crossed as he talks quietly with Desire.

As he stares at the cut of Dream’s suit, the blue eyes stare at him for a moment, and Hob catalogues the minute expressions of annoyance as Dream talks with Desire. He definitely knows those blue eyes, have felt them following him since he arrived at the estate, a background awareness of everything else, and Hob considers Dream’s pink, plush lips, low voice begging and screaming, pale skin splashed with―

“Gadling!” His boss calls and he looks over, Dusk folding her arms and giving him an unimpressed look, “you’re needed.”

Blinking, he puts his hands into the pockets of his pants, “what about Cori?” He’s pretty sure Cori actually gets off on the torture in his job, and he’d hate to take that from him.

“Who the fuck knows. Hence, you,” Dusk drawls, and she gives him an extra glare for good measure, eyes narrowing as she looks between him and Dream. Hob nods and suppresses a smirk, thinking of how cute it is that she thinks her disapproval, or even some don’t fuck who you work for would stop him.

If there’s something Hob likes about his job, it’s that there’s always plots under schemes to uncover, always people to kill ― and now, Dream’s blue eyes staring at him occasionally, like they’re drawn to him. And maybe when Hob feels like a pointless one night stand, he gets a pale twink with dark hair and bites into his neck, replacing the high whines with Dream’s deep voice, the coarse black hair he tugs with the soft-looking spikes of Dream’s hair. Just for a bit of fun.

Hob’s always one for looking for the bright things in life, especially after getting out of his former job.

The point is, his life is pretty good, potential firing squad due to some light treason notwithstanding.

Sometimes the goons of the estate think that the Endless kids should learn how to defend themselves, which would be good, he’s sure, if said goons weren’t such idiots when it comes to teaching them. And today they’ve managed to drag a scowling Dream out of his art quarters, which is why he’s actually witnessing their poor attempts at teaching today.

“Are you going to keep judging, or are you going to give a few pointers?” The big man frowns at him. Hob blinks and crosses his arms, leaning more on the wall as he glances at Dream, hair ruffled and scowling.

“I’m not the teaching type,” he says with a shrug, and the goon scowls, no doubt angry at Hob as he barks orders at Dream, who looks just as impressed as Hob does with him.

The subpar teaching makes for good entertainment, and Hob briefly considers maybe giving Dream private lessons. Or maybe not so private, if only for the good screaming and whining to be echoed throughout the grounds.

At last, the goon gives up with a huff, and Hob stares at the bruise on Dream’s cheek, the colour matching the other’s lips as Dream straightens out his ratty black clothes, small specks of blue paint on the bottom of Dream’s shirt.

Dream looks at him, stepping closer, absurdly plush mouth opening―and a phone rings. Dream frowns and takes out a flip phone, answering it curtly, then shortly leaving.

A week after that, something is wrong. Dream has been one for Wednesday meetings with his sister in the library, and nothing. Only Death, looking faintly worried.

Then a ransom call comes in, and Hob only gets that Dream’s been kidnapped before he holds his anger tightly, the Endless parents not even worried as the modulated voice lists their demands. Many of the fellow security and goons give him skittish looks, who have been wordlessly ribbing him for taking a liking to Dream.

Hob says nothing to the Endless parents as he leaves the room, ringing up some of his contacts to get something, and quickly ― before he decides they need some persuasion.

In the end, it takes seven days for him to find out that Burgess, another mob boss, recently hooked up electricity to an abandoned building, the night before the ransom call. Hob briefly considers going to Fawney Rig, where Burgess’s own mansion is, then considers after, once Dream is back at the estate.

For all the heightened security that the Endless parents put in, they’re remarkably unconcerned that their own son is kidnapped, whether out of neglect, or simply because of the people around working on it, Hob is unclear about. And, well, if they didn’t give him his income, he’d consider adding more bodies to the one’s he’s already planning on.

When he tells security of his plans, they offer to give him some goons as ‘back-up’ and Hob bites back a scoff. “I can handle it myself,” he frowns, glaring at the man until he steps back, nodding sharply.

The plan is to go through the abandoned building and kill everyone that’s not Dream. A simple one, but it’s never failed him yet.

Hob is almost offended at the front door, when he goes in to see five rent-a-thugs, nothing approaching a challenge as he methodically makes his way through them. With two already dead, he uses the body of one as a shield, gunshots ringing out, but soon silenced by one of his daggers through the shooter’s heart.

The other two go down with more daggers thrown, and once he’s collected and cleaned them off with fabric from the cheap suits of the men, he puts them away and sighs.

Unsurprisingly, the other rooms are easy enough to go through, finally finding Dream tied up on a chair, with two men near the door, guns raised at him. Hob puts on a disarming smile, putting his hands up. “I’m going to be nice, and tell you how you die,” he says, smiling brightly. Then men are shaking, guns rattling quietly in their grips. “You,” he nods to the man on his right, “are going to try and shoot me, and then I’m going to go after your buddy here and kill him with a clean knife to the heart. Then I’m going to take it out of his body and throw it into your heart, and you’ll both be dead before you hit the ground.”

The men seem even more freaked out, sharing scared looks ― but this isn’t about them. Maybe he wanted to show off, just a little bit, for the captive audience. Dream’s blue eyes are wide, mouth gagged with black fabric― and the man on his right moves, and it goes like he said, pulling out his dagger and cleaning it off the dead man’s body before stowing it away.

“Hello, Dream,” the other man’s eyes go even wider, a muffled sound going through the gag as he walks up to him, leaning over the chair to cut loose the ropes holding Dream. “We haven’t met yet officially, but you can call me Hob,” he smiles as he rips off the gag, then goes to the ropes around Dream’s legs, cutting them off as he stands up. Dream also gets up, face even more pale ― and Hob’s brows furrow as he touches the corner of Dream’s mouth, where a bruise is. “Maybe I should’ve tortured them more,” he remarks.

“Thank you,” Dream croaks, eyes a dark, deep blue and Hob hums, stepping away as he rubs his thumb, still feeling the soft skin under it.

“Let’s get you back home, Endless.” Hob gives Dream a once-over, finding nothing out of place with the black suit, or the way Dream’s holding himself.

“Is it just you?” Dream asks as they step outside of the room, and Dream stops, looking at the bodies lining the rooms as they go through each one. Dream always takes a moment to stop, looking at the various bodies, wide eyes leaving them to look at him ― and his clean suit, not a speck of blood on him.

“I was offered back-up, but they’d just get in the way,” he says with a shrug. Dream nods as they exit the building, and Hob opens the back car door, then stops Dream from getting in. “Burgess met you, didn’t he? Probably to gloat, he seems like the type of asshole to do that,” Dream steps back and nods as Hob leans on the car door. “Do you expressly order for me to kill him for you, or do I have to do it without it?”

Dream’s mouth moves, opening and shutting before something hard settles over Dream’s expression, “you can kill him,” Dream says, voice breathless and Hob nods. Moving out of the way, he gets in on the other side as Dream slides in, looking at the dark screen between them and Mervyn, the driver, starts the car.

Dream still looks shocked, wide-eyed and flushed cheeks, and Hob considers the effects of kidnapping, which are never good. Or maybe it was all the dead bodies, especially considering Dream maybe doesn’t have much experience with that.

Hob watches as Dream takes deep breaths, suit jacket being thrown off, then shoes joining them, and Hob tilts his head, looking at pale collarbones, sweaty and glistening as Dream undoes the top buttons of the shirt, black a contrast to the white of his skin. “I need you,” Dream says roughly, eyes mostly black, and Hob blinks as Dream pulls him closer by his collar, “to fuck me,” Dream states before kissing him, biting into his lips. Or maybe, Hob thinks nonsensically, grabbing onto Dream’s waist as the other man slides into his lap.

Hob blinks, eyebrows raised, “no complaints here, just as long as you don’t regret it,” he breathes, fingers sliding up under a black shirt, and he watches as Dream shivers, bony limbs pushing him down onto the backseat.

“Definitely not,” Dream says sharply, cold hands tearing open his blazer, then waistcoat and shirt, and Dream pauses as his blazer is thrown off, eyes zeroed in on the bracers around his biceps ― and the daggers in them. There’s a huff as Dream takes them off, then the bracers and his waistcoat and shirt, and there’s another huff as Dream stares at the harness around his shoulders, the guns on them. “Hob.”

Suppressing a smile, he shrugs as he toes his pointed shoes off, Dream still on his lap as he watches Hob pull out a tiny syringe, then a few small daggers and puts them on his other weapons on the floor.

“A syringe?” Dream asks, leaning closer to look.

“Lethal poison,” he says, sitting up to sit against the car side, his hands going under Dream’s shirts to take it off, pale skin and pink nipples, and he nibbles up Dream’s neck, restraining himself from drawing blood as Dream whimpers. “This too, plus another, but you’ll have to take my pants off for that,” he whispers into Dream’s ear as he tugs the hair tie off his wrist, throwing it onto his pile of weapons.

Dream makes a sound, cold hands getting warmer as they tug at Hob’s pants, “a hair tie?” The other man asks incredulously, belt being taken off to join the rest of the weapons as Dream takes a moment to stare at the line of tiny daggers lining the inside of the belt.

“The hair tie can also turn into barbed wire,” he offers with a smirk, “and not that, I forgot about those,” he shrugs, arousal a constant, pleasant buzz with how Dream is sitting on him. Dream mutters something, words incomprehensible as Dream sits up to tug his pants off, the underwear, knives strapped with harnesses on his thighs thrown with everything else, and Dream’s look of annoyance makes Hob bite back a laugh.

“Is that all? Anything else?” Dream hisses, and Hob does actually smirk as Dream tugs at his chest hair. Hob hums and touches the crotch of the other’s pants, feeling a wet spot already as he unbuttons them, clearly not as turned off by all the weapons.

“Not today,” he says. Tugging Dream closer by the zip of his pants, there’s a broken sound as they kiss filthily, and Hob’s already addicted to the feel of Dream’s smooth skin as his nails scratch down thighs, Dream’s lower clothes soon joining the rest. “I’m not taking you raw,” he drawls, smiling as Dream tugs his hair and pulls back with a huff.

Dream mutters some more and reaches for the back of the passenger seat, revealing a compartment filled with small packets of lube and condoms. Desire, probably, Hob’s mind supplies as he takes some of the lube and a condom. “I thought this would involve more fucking, not all these―” Dream’s complaint turns into a moan as Hob pushes a finger inside Dream, and his cock twitches at the thought of going inside that warm heat as he bites at the other’s jaw.

Dream pants, breath harsh near his ear as fingers grip his chest hair and he adds another finger, twisting and stretching the walls around them. “Hard or soft?” He asks, free hand digging into and trailing up Dream’s spine, feeling him shiver and shake as Dream clenches around his fingers.

“Now,” is the desperate order, and Hob pulls Dream by the hair into a forceful kiss, making those pink lips even redder as he takes out his fingers and prepares his cock, lube and condom cool compared to the burning heat of Dream on top of him. Hob groans as he enters the tight heat, Dream shuddering and squeezing around him, and Dream cries out, a hand coming down from his hair to dig into the stubble of his jaw. “Yes,” Dream breathes, twitching.

Hob takes a deep breath, smelling blood and sweat on Dream’s neck as he gets used to the feeling, a part of him wanting to drive in, but also Dream was just kidnapped, so he tries to have a modicum of care as he bottoms out, nails digging into Dream’s waist as they adjust. The tenuous self-control frays as Dream wriggles on top of him, licking into his mouth as Dream grinds down onto his cock.

“Stop being such a pussy and fuck me,” Dream croaks ― and there’s a gasp as Hob’s free hand circles Dream’s neck, nails digging into the other’s esophagus until Dream coughs, eyes wide and dick leaking onto Hob’s stomach.

“With the way you’re acting, no,” he frowns as Dream continues to cough, eventually nodding frantically as Dream’s hand pulls the one away from the other’s throat.

Dream licks his lips, a bit of terror in his eyes that makes Hob’s sharp anger lessen. “Please,” Dream whispers, eyes still overtaken with black, a thin ring of deep blue as the car passes a pot-hole, jostling them and Dream wails. “Pleasepleaseplease.”

“Better,” he breathes, tugging Dream’s hair roughly as he guides the other man up and down his cock, feeling tight walls slowly loosen up as Dream is impaled on him. Dream tries to say something, but Hob shifts him and only a cry comes out as he hits the other’s prostate, and Hob nibbles at the blossoming bruise on Dream’s throat in the shape of his hand.

Dream sobs and claws at his chest, at his shoulder as they fuck, as his tempo rises ― and Dream comes with a sob, squeezing his cock tightly and pulling an orgasm out of him.

Checking all his weapons are where they’re meant to be, he puts on his clothes as Dream frowns, glaring at him on the backseat. “Now, I have to report to security, and you’ll probably have to deal with your family, so. See you around, Dream,” he says with a lazy fingered salute as he hops out of the car. “Mervyn,” he says with a smile and a nod towards the driver. Mervyn gives him the middle finger as he leaves.

The security briefing is, well, brief. Mainly because he doesn’t reveal the people who kidnapped Dream. So that he can go after them himself, but that’s splitting hairs. There’s a cacophony of sound, and there’s a done-up Dream, looking only a tiny bit ruffled as he’s surrounded by all his siblings as they talk at him. Dream catches his eye and sends him a desperate get me out of here look, and Hob only shrugs, leaning against the wall as Death and Delirium move on to hugging Dream, only quickly though.

Dream scowls, bruises on his neck hidden by layers of collars and black as he steps into Hob’s space once the room has cleared out and the siblings have dispersed. “Will you join me? To my room,” Hob raises an eyebrow and Dream looks away, fiddling with the sleeve of his shirt, “for protection, after my ordeal.”

Hob frowns, Dream looking so exhausted now, and he nods, following after Dream into the labyrinth of the mansion until they end up at a room near the art quarters, opening into a red and black bedroom. Hob watches as Dream sheds off his clothes, marks and bruises ― mainly from him, bright against his skin as Dream goes into the bathroom. Hob closes the bedroom door as Dream fills the bath in his en suite, eventually hopping in with a weary sigh.

There’s only the sound of a ticking clock, a far-off, muffled television as Dream curls up in the bath, eventually hopping out after at least an hour. Hob’s heart aches, which he ignores as Dream pulls a fluffy black towel around himself. “Hob,” Dream whispers, voice rusty as Dream dries himself off, getting into a ratty black shirt and pants. “Will you stay? Until I fall asleep?”

Dream looks at him with red-rimmed eyes, drained and tired, at how vulnerable Dream is, and he wants to make sure that no-one else ever sees that look, as much as he wants to make it even worse. However, he did say, he would deal with Dream’s captors, and he thinks of the soft touch of the other’s skin, the fiery determination, even after being rescued.

His heart, which he long thought dead, twists at the other’s exhaustion, and the decision is simple.

“Of course.”

Going through the information gathered on Fawney Rig, Hob may actually have a bit of a challenge, so he decides to take his time working out angles, and what he plans to do. Especially when he discovers that the kidnapping wasn’t the first time he’s interacted with Dream, and those haven’t been good either. Nothing as overt as kidnapping, but enough of a pattern to make Hob think of the many ways to flay an old man alive.

Afterwards, Dream asks him to his room more. Sometimes for just peace of mind, apparently. And other times for sex, which isn’t trouble at all, and Hob is happy with the way things are going in life, even as he deals with rising amounts of plots against the Endless family with no clear mastermind, much to his frustration.

However, there’s always time for some fun, this time with Dream pushing him against his bedroom door and kneeling down, hands quickly taking him out and Hob gasps at the hot mouth around his dick, sucking him to hardness. Groaning, Hob grabs onto soft dark hair as Dream pushes his hips against the door.

“What, no undressing me first?” He says, and Dream stops to give him a withered look, clearly not in the mood to deal with his many weapons. Hob barks out a laugh as Dream licks him.

Dream moans, long black lashes fluttering as Hob fills up in his mouth, the other’s nails digging into the harnesses under his pants, daggers cold against his skin as Dream licks and sucks.

“You may want to move those hands,” he breathes, tugging the other’s black hair, “daggers.” Dream gives him a tired look and pulls off him, teeth lightly grazing the top of his cock, annoyance showing even more as Dream tugs down his pants to reveal the harness and taking off the daggers.

There’s a huff as Dream’s mouth returns, one of Dream’s hands going underneath his shirt to tug at his chest hair, and the pleasure fizzles steadily, unwilling to look away from the other man.

Even just looking at Dream in this position is enough to make his arousal build, spiraling at how much Dream obviously enjoys it. “So pretty,” he whispers, and Dream shivers around him, lashes fluttering and Hob smirks as Dream’s hips move, grinding into air. “Taking me so well,” he says, a hand trailing down to touch Dream’s jaw, going down to a pale throat as Dream moans and swallows around him. “Knew you’d be good with lips like these.”

Dream whimpers as his hand goes up to pink lips, split around his cock, a thumb pressing inside the warm heat. There’s a cry, blue eyes shiny and tears sticking to the edge of long lashes.

His orgasm is a slow thing, helped along as he tugs Dream by his hair, making him choke and swallow around him desperately as he comes. Dream coughs, covering his mouth as he swallows the white fluid. “Was that necessary?” Dream asks, voice rough and fucked, and Hob meets on the floor with a smirk.

“No, it was just fun,” he says with a grin, making Dream gasp as he tugs black hair roughly. Pulling him in for a messy kiss, licking some off of Dream's puffy lips as Dream whimpers. His other hand goes to black skinny jeans, swiftly undoing them―and Hob raises his eyebrows, leaning back as Dream’s face reddens. “Was it the praise or the way I used you?”

Dream’s face burns even more as his hand feels a softening cock, come coating his fingers as he takes his hand out.

A different day, and Hob’s spent hours between Dream’s sheets, wringing out orgasms until he’s had his fill, the night air cool on his skin as he sits up on the bed, a warm lamp and moonlight showing their clothes strewn about the room. He at least tries to sit up, with a skinny arm going around his waist, and there’s a groan as Hob puts some of his daggers back into their harnesses. “Cuddly, are you?” He asks.

“No,” Dream groans, muffled against his skin as the other man curls around him, a thumb going under one of his thigh harnesses as bright blue eyes peek at him. “Surely there’s better things to do than whatever you’re planning.”

“Like making you come even more?” He asks, raising an eyebrow as he finds his syringe of poison, putting it into place. Dream huffs, pouting as Hob moves off the bed to sheathe even more of his weapons before haphazardly putting on his pants, afterglow settling in his veins.

“I could read to you,” Dream says, pride in his tone and Hob blinks, baffled as he turns to look back at Dream. “I have been told I have a good reading voice,” Dream explains as he picks up a book from his nightstand. Hob considers ― and Dream does have a good voice, and Hob did work very hard today with his own side project of dealing with Burgess.

Hob crosses his arms and waits, although, “well, Prince of Stories?” Hob says sarcastically, and Dream blinks, shock on his face before it quickly becomes blank, Dream flipping through to the start of the book, a bookmark kept in place near the end of it.

“Along the shore the cloud waves break, The twin suns sink behind the lake, The shadows lengthen. In Carcosa,” Dream begins, words deep and resounding, and vaguely familiar.

“Horror?” He says with a grin, going back to sit on the edge of the bed. Dream’s eyebrow twitches.

“It’s what I’ve been reading,” is offered primly. Dream clears his throat and pulls the sheets over himself, eyes focused on the page in front of him intently. “Strange is the night where black stars rise. And strange moons circle through the skies But stranger still, is Lost Carcosa―”

Hob frowns as he walks towards the art quarters, knowing that Dream would be there, since he’s not in his room. While the mansion has many cameras, there are none in Dream’s art areas or their rooms ― and not that he’d care for them, but it’s handy, especially with what he wants to talk to Dream about. Sighing, he enters the art room, finding Dream mixing paint near a canvas. “Anything you want to tell me?”

Dream turns around and blinks, paintbrush in his hand dripping black paint. “About?”

“Like another attempt on your parent’s life, which I only found out about after I left your room,” he says slowly, walking closer to Dream.

“What are you implying?” Dream asks, shock giving away to an offended glare as the paintbrush gets put down. Hob doesn’t say anything, just watches as Dream glares at him, and continues―until a tiny tic, Dream looking away momentarily.

“You knew,” he drawls as he grabs the other’s jaw, forcing blue eyes to look at him as Dream tries to look away again. “Why?”

“You have some gall to accuse me,” Dream breathes, trying to push his hand away and failing as Hob digs his nails into Dream’s jaw. There’s a brief look of terror from Dream as his fingers go down a pale throat, beginning to cut air from his windpipe. “It wasn’t,” Dream gasps, voice high, “I did want to spend more time with you, but also.”

“Again. Why?” He asks as he lets go, letting Dream wheeze and take some deep breaths.

“They want to send Delirium off,” Dream mutters, “and we―my sibling and I, don’t want that.”

Hob nods, rumours and attempts coalescing into a clear picture, “that’s all? They want to send her away?”

“Among other things,” Dream says quietly, giving him a wide-eyed look, “you can’t tell anyone.”

Hob crosses his arms as he tilts his head, “I don’t know. I do enjoy the money.”

“Once they’re ― nothing will change with that, I swear,” Dream says, almost pleading, “just a change in who runs things.”

Sighing, Hob steps back as he pats Dream’s cheek, a brief flash of fear crossing the other’s face. And, well, he did briefly consider killing the parents himself for the way they acted with Dream’s kidnapping. “As long I get my money, do what you want,” he says curtly as he leaves.

A day later, and Dream freezes once he enters his bedroom. “Hob, I thought you’d be…” Dream trails off as Hob smiles, waiting for the other man to come closer.

“Maybe I wanted to reward you for being so honest with me,” he says, holding his hands out ― which Dream takes warily as he pulls Dream on top of him. The other man looks confused and apprehensive, even as they share biting kisses. “A gift,” he breathes, smiling as Dream’s hands go under his shirt ― and stops, the hands leaving to pat over his thighs and chest.

“Why do you have no weapons,” Dream says flatly, patting his thighs like he expects them to suddenly materialise from where Hob stashed them in the en suite. Hob resists rolling his eyes, bringing Dream in for another kiss, licking into the other’s mouth as their clothes are shed. The arousal builds slowly as he grabs Dream’s hip, stroking up and down as Dream gets his lube.

“No,” he whispers, and Dream lets out a sound as Hob takes the lube from Dream, coating his fingers in it ― and Dream makes another sound as Hob puts the finger in himself, feeling odd after so many years. “Like this,” he says into Dream’s lips, watching Dream’s eyes widen, mouth dropping as Hob puts another finger in, stretching himself.

“You―what,” Dream chokes, thin hands gabbing his waist tightly as Dream stares down as Hob puts another finger in, stretch sliding from weird to pleasurable as he brushes his prostate, gasping at the jolt of it.

“A gift,” he whispers, looking up through his lashes as he finishes prepping himself ― and putting a condom on Dream’s red, leaking dick. There’s a whimper from Dream, hands fluttering up and down his chest as Dream breeches him. “And a punishment,” Hob says with a grin as Dream bottoms out, and he shivers through the pleasure, nails digging into Dream’s jaw to force those blue eyes to look at him.

“Fucking you? A punishment?” Dream asks, expression flummoxed, then quickly turning into determination and cockiness as Dream holds him down. The rhythm builds quickly, sometimes brushing against that bundle of nerves and bringing Hob closer to orgasm ― and Dream looks quietly smug, blue eyes dark as Hob clenches around him.

Hob blinks, watching as Dream fucks into him, nails scratching marks into his waist as Dream gets closer to coming ― and when Dream exits him, he puts his hand around the other’s cock. Dream cries out, orgasm stopped in place by his hand. “I think I need another orgasm. You, however.”

Dream’s eyes widen, pink mouth gaping, cockiness forgotten, “but I. No. Hob,” Dream pleads, “Hob, please.”

Smiling at how he can feel Dream’s cock twitch and jerk in his hand, he deems the orgasm stopped ― and uses his other hand to control Dream by the hips, guiding him in. Dream cries out, body collapsing on top of him as Hob guides the other’s cock, oversensitivity making it pleasure-painful as his cock eventually starts to fill again, and there’s only the sound of slapping skin, his moans and Dream’s pleading as his next orgasm arrives slowly.

By then, he’s stopped Dream’s orgasm once more, who continues to beg into his neck.

His third orgasm is erring on the side of painful and dry, but he enjoys it anyway as Dream lets out a broken wail as his own orgasm is stopped, Dream’s body shaking above him, and he can feel tears on his neck. “Do you think you’ve learnt yet?” He asks breathlessly, smiling as Dream nods against his neck. “I’m not entirely sure you have, considering that stunt you pulled.”

His fourth orgasm is entirely dry, the oversensitivity making him grit his teeth as his walls clench around Dream’s throbbing cock. Dream at this point is completely incoherent, only the suggestions of begging are almost discernible beneath broken sounds.

It’s after he’s stopped Dream’s orgasm for the seventh time, does he take Dream out, who is a collapsed, shivery mess on top of him. As he gets up from the bed, Dream blindly reaches for him, eventually gripping onto one of his biceps. “Hob,” Dream croaks, blue eyes watery and puffy, black eyeliner running.

“Behave, and I might let you come,” Hob purrs, pulling Dream in for a filthy kiss by his hair, and then leaving to put everything on in the en suite.

Next day, the soreness is pushed away with painkillers ― and the way Dream stares at him, eyes pleading and suit askew at a meeting for the family. Hob listens on with half an ear, mostly looking outside the window as he feels Dream’s gaze on him.

“Oi!” A voice hisses next to him, and Hob turns around to see Matthew ― and a cut-off, decaying finger in a ziplock bag. “Hold this.”

Sighing, he gets out his leather gloves, putting them on before handling that, turning it around to look at a tag also in the bag, only making out a vague Choron, “more dirty work?”

“Trash, actually,” Matthew says as he picks up a drink. Hob gives him an unimpressed look. “Don’t worry, I’ll handle it, I just wanted a bit of space.”

Hob goes to say something, but catches Dream’s intense stare across the way ― the way Dream’s lips have parted as they hand at his hands. “Ever wonder how they lived with that?” He asks idly, shaking the bag and bringing it up to his eye level, Dream’s gaze pinned on his hands.

Matthew chuckles, and there’s a gulp and sigh as Matthew drinks more of the middling beer usually on offer for such a fancy place as this, “badly, probably. Can’t imagine jerking off with a missing finger, poor fuck,” Matthew says with a laugh. Hob smirks, and the rest of the meeting passes uneventfully, and Hob watches as Dream squirms in his seat, heavy gaze resting on him all the while.

Meeting adjourned, Hob’s unsurprised with how fast Dream appears next to him ― although, the way Dream grabs hold of his lapels and pushes him against the corridor wall is a bit of a surprise, considering the cameras as they share heated kisses. “What brought this on?” He asks, gloved hands holding onto the other’s jaw, watching as Dream shivers, body pressing against him.

“Hob, you know why,” Dream says, tone almost desperate as he pushes his face into Hob’s hand. “Please.”

Humming, his hand trails down the other’s torso, feeling Dream press even closer as he reaches Dream’s clothed cock, his other hand going to tug Dream’s head to the side as he bites into the marks hiding under Dream’s collar. Arousal flares as Dream whimpers, squirming against him as he opens the other’s pants, leather-clad hand stroking Dream’s leaking cock.

“Yes,” Dream gasps, a pale hand gripping the back of his neck as he strokes Dream, almost no friction from pre-come getting onto the leather. “More,” Dream breathes and Hob looks up, catching sight of a goon staring at them.

“Think this is good enough for now, don’t you think?” He smirks, keeping eye contact with the shocked goon as his hand in Dream’s hair ghosts down his back to slide under Dream’s shirt, feeling him shiver and cry out. The goon seems to move out of his stupor and walks out of sight, Hob tracking him as he bites further up Dream’s neck. “After all, the only reason I’m not fucking you at this moment, is if I’m not sure if you deserve it.”

Dream lets out a pathetic sound, clutching him tighter he presses against the slit of Dream’s cock, making the other man shiver. “It won’t―that won’t happen again,” Dream pants.

Hob sighs, twisting his wrist as Dream moans, hands scrabbling desperately over his torso as it takes only a few more strokes until Dream comes. There’s a loud cry, Dream going boneless as his other hand goes to Dream’s front to pinch at pink nipples hidden under the black dress shirt. “Next time, I won’t be as nice,” he says, hand moving out of―

Until Dream grabs his wrist, and his cock, neglected, throbs as Dream licks his come off the black leather, eyes an intense dark blue as they look at him.

“Needy, aren’t you?” He rasps, Dream’s eyes fluttering shut as he continues to lick the his gloved hands, and Hob moans as Dream grabs his cock. Dream undoes his belt and zipper as his thumb presses Dream’s bottom lip, black glove and pink lips making his cock twitch before Dream gets his own hands on it, stroking it in a frenzied rush as Dream bites at his fingers, licking the palm of his hand as Hob comes with a groan.

Dream has asked him to be around his art room, looking haunted ― and Hob gets the impression he’s there for more emotional support again, which. He’s a bit out of practice with, but for Dream usually just requires being in the area, so he’s sitting in one of the plush chairs and reading a book, while Dream mixes paints and glares daggers at a canvas.

There’s a sigh, and a clatter as brushes get put down, “why do you let them do that?” Dream asks, apropos of nothing and Hob blinks, attention dragged away from his book to Dream.

“Let who do what?” He crosses his legs, placing the book down the side of the chair.

“I heard some guards talking about you. They don’t know about you.” Dream clarifies, eyes narrow as they stare at him.

“They don’t matter. And I like to operate so that people under-estimate me,” he shrugs, putting his face on his hands. “Art not co-operating today?”

Dream scowls and glares once again at the canvas, then stands up and comes over to him, hands gripping his thighs. “I read about you ― or what wasn’t heavily redacted. What did you do?”

Hob’s brows raise, and he huffs, gently pushing Dream away with his foot ― and Dream lets out a sound, blue eyes darkening as they stare at his pointed shoes. That’s always an option, Hob considers as he guides Dream onto the floor, shoe on Dream’s shoulder. Cocking his head, he thinks that Dream kneeling for him might be one of his favourite things. “A light disagreement with a former employer, nothing interesting,” he breathes.

“It said you’re to be executed on sight, from the MI6, that wasn’t redacted,” Dream scowls, trying to hold onto getting his answers. Hob hums, smirking as he puts his other leg in between Dream’s, lightly pressing onto the other’s crotch, and Dream gasps.

“The disagreement wasn’t so light, then,” he amends, feeling Dream’s cock fill under his shoe as Dream grabs onto his shin, nails digging into him.

“Hob,” Dream growls, staring up at him with blue eyes swallowed by black ― and Hob’s other shoe taps against Dream’s cheek, trailing to the other’s jaw and pulling his face up, legs loosely crossed as he does.

“Dream,” he mimics, feeling Dream shiver as he grinds his shoe into a hard cock. Hob blinks, resting his head on his hand, watching as Dream holds onto his ankles. “While you’re down there, there’s better things to do than talk about ancient history,” Hob drawls ― and Dream shivers, arching into the shoe on his groin ― and the point of the other shoe presses into Dream’s pink mouth.

“I―I don’t,” Dream whines, muffled by his shoe as he’s given him a wide-eyed look, surprise as Dream grabs onto the shoe near his mouth. There’s a whimper as Hob continues to press onto Dream’s cock, making the other man shudder and curl in on him, Dream’s nose brushing against his other shoe, cheeks flushing red.

“You don’t even have to do anything if you don’t want, which I’m sure you’ll enjoy,” he purrs, own arousal making his dick hard in his pants, and he grins as Dream moans, blue eyes glazed over as they look at him, mouth open. “Look at that,” he breathes, leaning over to grip Dream’s hair, Dream following along obediently. “Now,” he guides Dream’s face to his other shoe, still grinding into Dream’s cock as the other man whimpers. “Be a good boy and lick.”

Dream lets out a whimper, staring up at him, then to his shoe, blinking ― and there's a frisson of pleasure coiling inside at seeing a tentative lick on the top of it, blue eyes fluttering closed. There’s a broken, surprised noise as Dream kisses his shoe, hands moving to grip underneath as kisses and licks get laved upon it.

Having been roughly involved in the BDSM scene, but again. Disagreements, and yet he’s delighted to see how easily Dream falls into subspace, feeling the scrape of teeth through leather as Dream bites at the point of the shoe, sucking it and Hob shivers, dick throbbing as he watches. Licking his lips, he lifts the one on Dream’s crotch, and Dream whines, staring at him imploringly. “If you want to come, you’ll have to work for it.”

Reclining back in the chair and resting his fingers on his cheek, Dream takes a few deep breaths, blinking up at him. Dream moves forward, a hand coming to grip the ankle of the shoe that was grinding into him ― and he lets out a pleased sound as Dream starts to press against his shoe, chest arching into his leg as Dream moves up and down.

“Beautiful,” he praises, stroking Dream’s red cheek as he whines and grounds up against him, licking the top of his other shoe, and there’s only the sound of their breathing, and Dream’s whining, with leather creaking as Dream works himself towards orgasm.

Dream comes with a cry, hiding his face into Hob’s shoe as he pants, weight falling onto Hob’s legs as Dream stares up at him.

A week later, Hob enters Dream’s room, who reacts with ― embarrassment, blue eyes looking away as Dream’s face starts to redden. “What?” Dream asks, voice gruff and giving him a death glare.

“I’m going to visit a mutual friend today,” he says dryly, and Dream, hunched over a desk with a notebook, tenses as Hob pulls a gun out of the holster under his suit jacket. Refraining from rolling his eyes, he grabs the barrel of the gun, butt facing Dream as he walks up to the other man, other hand in his pants. “Remember, whose men I had to deal with to free you?”

Dream’s eyes widen, looking between the gun and his face as Hob leans against the desk. “Why now?”

“Had to make a plan, at least a bit of an effort regarding some things,” he shrugs, and now Dream looks more confused, closing his notebook. “As for this,” he rattles the gun, thumb moving to the side of it to show the shining gleam of it, “a kiss? For luck,” he says with a grin.

The other man scoffs, staring down at the barrel, “why? You don’t need it,” Dream mutters, glancing between the gun and him for a few moments. Hob raises his brows, and Dream’s lips purse before he moves forward, lips pressing onto the barrel of the gun. There’s a clack of teeth against steel as Dream grabs onto his hand, eyes dark as they stare up at him.

A pink tongue presses against the barrel and Hob takes a breath, feeling himself get half-hard as Dream pulls him down, breath almost mingling over the top of the gun― And Hob takes the gun away, putting it back in its holster, Dream’s stare heavy and Hob forces his mind back on track, that’s not filled with Dream’s delicious cries and warm skin. “Later,” he manages, voice rough as he steps back, and eventually out of the room.

#dc #the sandman #dreamling #dreamling fanfic #dream x hob #hob x dream #hob x morpheus #dream of the endless #hob gadling #writing #not sfw #oh my amoral baby of a fic i care you so much #the second part is pretty much almost done and so

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perfectlypreservedpie · 4 months

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MacCready Fanfiction Recs (Fallout 4)

hey everybody, nobody asked for this but in the midst of writing fallout fanfic I was feeling a special kind of love for my favorite fo4 fanfics and wanted to recommend them in case you hadn't read 'em. Because they are VERY GOOD and writing fanfic is hard, so you gotta give props to those who sweat for your comfort fics.

I'm gonna recommend my top three finished fanfics, and then two more bonus fics that are being updated rn. As a clarifier, these are all Maccready fallout 4 fics. so. keep that in mind.

im tagging the authors and also anybody who wants to join and share their favorites too!

3. THE FATHER(S) AND THE SON(S) on ao3 by @sirmanmister

I'm going to preface this rec by saying this: there is Fanon MacCready. There is canon MacCready. And then there is ascended!whatBethesdawishesitWAS MacCready, which exists solely in this fanfiction. The characterization of Mac is so well written. He is snarky, he is vulnerable. He desperately wants to grow up but doesn't know how. He has the most sick character arc in this story!!!

It's not a romance but instead a coming of age story where the sole survivor becomes a de-facto parent to Mac. The heart of the story is about how to raise a child while you're still trying to grow up yourself. The apocalypse setting lends itself well because the Wasteland is a place where NOTHING is beautiful, but the way that M!Sosu and MacCready care for their sons is beautiful. Which makes it special and worth fighting for.

As a fun fact, I read The Road by Cormac McCarthy for class a week after finishing this fic and I was thinking about this fic the whole time because the themes of fatherhood during an apocalypse hit a lot of the same beats. Maybe my professor would kick me in the teeth by comparing fic to McCarthy, but @sirmanmister YOU ARE MY CORMAC MCCARTHY <3

2. WORKING CLASS HERO on ao3 by @bluegrasskitty

This is the kind of fic you take with you to toilet, to work, in-between classes. It will suck you in. AND THERE'S A SEQUEL TOO YOU GUYS‼️

The sole survivor in this story is the model for the Nuka Cola girl. You know the hot lady in the spacesuit? SHE HAS A BACKSTORY. AND YALL IT MADE ME WEEP. During some point of the story, I sort of stopped rooting for MacCready to be the narrator and just wanted Nora Cabot to take the reins. When I tell you I think of this oc every two to three business weeks. She's an incredible leading lady. I can't look at Nuka Girl posters in the game without thinking of Nora Cabot, my beloved.

the sequel IS SO FIRE. It's the best reimagining of 'what happened after the institute blew up' that I've ever read. im gnawing at the bars of my enclosure actually.

A VERY GOOD PLOT TWIST I CANNOT MENTION TO NEW READERS BUT IF YOU'VE READ IT YOU'LL UNDERSTAND. AND IF YOU UNDERSTAND DM ME I HAVE TO TALK TO SOMEBODY ABOUT IT. HHh.

The amount of world building that @bluegrasskitty puts into this story is insane. They ARE Beth Esda.

As a fun fact, I didn't know that radchickens were canon in fallout. I thought it was a plot device made up by this author to excuse the ability to make cake in this book, but radchickens ARE real. When I was playing Far Harbor last year, I found radchickens and thought that @bluegrasskitty manifested them into existence because they had that kind of power.

that being said, I still think this author has that kind of power.

1. Atom Bomb Baby on ao3 by @starlightwrites

I think you dropped something....my jaw.

fellas. fellas. this is my comfort fic. You ever had a comfort fic? Something you come back to at least once a year to reread to feel something? the fiction equivalent of chicken noodle soup? this is what Atom Bomb Baby is to me. this is peak literature actually. if I ever figure out book binding, im doing this one first.

Plot wise, it's a retelling of Fallout 4's main story through the perspective of MacCready. But (and im wheezing as I say this) it's also so much more THAN THAT.

this fic author understands that MacCready is not a womanizer but is in fact a touch starved loser. and they are CORRECT.

MacCready spends the entire fic like 'uuuhhhh I dunno about this one, boss!'

ITS BEST FRIENDS TO LOVERS RAHHHHHH

it also has a nostalgia feel to me too, because reading it gives me the same feeling as what it was like to play the game for the first time, years ago. maybe it's because I've read it so many times over the years, but reading it feels so satisfying.

The author spends 10 chapters at the end solely dedicated to an epilogue. I wish more stories did this. They go through the wringer in this story, and it's so deeply satisfying to see how cleanly everything gets wrapped up. MacCready and the Lola work really well together as a couple, so it's awesome to see how they work together after the battle is done.

6 out of 5 stars.

BONUS FICS !! aka fics that are still updating! I squeal with joy when I get an ao3 email about these: 1. Best Laid Plans on ao3 by @druidgroves - Georgia Tate is an incredible character and sole survivor! She was a teacher prewar, so it's really fun to get her perspective on the world. She cares a lot about education and libraries and I find her really relatable and endearing. It's a cool thing for a character in an apocalypse to care about! It also makes for fun tension with Mac, who's written as a pragmatic survivor. A great take on familiar characters and their dynamics. - And It's a great slow burn! I'm really enjoying reading it. 2. Long Time Running on ao3 by @twosides--samecoin - If you've ever thought that Med-Tek was too convenient an option for Duncan's cure, this fic was written with you in mind. - RJ goes to Canada and im obsessed with it. - If you're interested in fallout lore, specifically the bit where the U.S annexed Canada and wished that there was more info about that, I would highly recommend this fic. Twosides--samecoin put in THE WORK. The world building they do to explain Canada's side of the Great War is so fun!!! its genuinely such a thrill to read!

I'm tagging the authors who I mentioned, if you all have favorite fics (fallout or otherwise, I'd love to hear em!) Thank you for making good art!

#fanfic recs #fallout 4 #fallout fanfiction #rj maccready #MacCready #maccready x sole survivor #the father(s) and the son(s)#working class hero #atom bomb baby #best laid plans #long time running #thank you for making good art!!

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total-drama-brainrot · 5 months

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How firmly do you believe in Noah's ability to copy voices?

I have seen people make him be able to copy other contestants voices and mimicking them to a point it feels uncanny to the other contestants.

My point? P! Noah would definitely use that to his advantage. I just think that was a cool concept so here. :)

Anon I need you to understand that I've already used that exact concept in one of my fics. Like, it was an integral part of the first chapter of said fic. (And one that I regret not using more, since it's such a fun concept to play with. My drafts are full of different scenarios using this exact premise.)

I believe whole-heartedly in giving Noah weird party trick abilities and other "obscure" talents like vocal mimicry - but only when he uses them in the most unhelpful ways possible.

Mostly because he's kind of lacking when it comes to his viability as a contestant in the show; most of his competitors are either physically gifted to make up for their mental/emotional shortcomings (i.e. Eva, Izzy, Courtney, Sierra, ect.), intentionally or unintentionally adept at playing the social aspect of the game (Alejandro, Justin kind of, Owen, Lindsay, ect), or have some sort of character gimmick that benefits them in the competition (Harold's... Harold-ness, Izzy's wildcard energy). Noah doesn't have that. It's actually kind of impressive just how useless Noah is in terms of the competition, since he's supposed to be one of the smartest characters in the show but his slothful nature prevents him from actually utilizing this.

My answer? Have Noah use that big brain of his to develop and cultivate weird talents that end up being somewhat useful. Like the ability to mimic voices. And his canonical hacking abilities that he never uses in the main series.

In terms of p!Noah, I'm actually on the fence on giving him the same ability. Mostly because he's already got both canon Noah's smarts and the physical prowess to make him a competitive threat, even if he still maintains the same apathy towards the competition itself. He isn't really focused on winning the competition itself, but his innate skillset makes him a pretty big threat regardless, especially if he ever decides to shift his focus from self entertainment to trying to win. Giving him extra abilities on top of his established skillset just seems like overkill.

But. One of the core aspects of p!Noah's character is his prankster-type nature, which is mostly a result of him trying to stave off his perpetual boredom by pulling pranks and jokes on his competitors. In very much the same vein that canon Noah throws jabs and barbed comments at his castmates, p!Noah instead plots and schemes different ways to make them suffer for his entertainment (whilst also throwing out jabs an barbed comments). It wouldn't exactly be out of character for him to commit himself to learning how to copy voices just for the sake of tormenting people.

Especially if he's using said talent before the "reveal".

Could you imagine the kind of shit p!Noah could stir just by using someone else's voice? He's got the same unnoteworthy background character benefits as canon Noah for the first season- barring Izzy's immediate attention as a fellow person of flimsy sanity- so he'd be able to blend seamlessly into the background and gather information on the more vocal campers, stuff he'd easily be able to twist and recontextualise in the earshot of others; for his own benefit, sure, but p!Noah wouldn't care about using this for his own standing in the game so much as his own amusement.

It'd be more in character for him to use Gwen's voice to make an off-handed comment about how he thinks guys who play guitar are "trying too hard" or something, coincidentally when Trent himself is near enough to overhear, just to watch their will-they-won't-they song and dance crumble under the strain of Trent's insecurity. (Which could either help or hinder Heather's later stunt, which takes advantage of that same insecurity.)

There's a nearly endless well of opportunity when it comes to fucking around with vocal mimicry and p!Noah would cherish that fact.

Or maybe he'd wait for Heather and Leshawna to get into another argument during one of the Gopher's challenges, more specifically for them to end an argument and walk away from each other in a huff, only to chime in with Heather's voice,

"Ugh, what a bitch."

Just loud enough for the two of them to hear and consequently react to; Leshawna, of course, with reignited outrage and Heather with gobsmacked confusion. Leshawna would immediately confront Heather about the comment, and only get more mad when Heather denies saying it- despite it being in her voice. Meanwhile, Noah watches the two of them taunt each other into a bigger confrontation with the added benefit of the rest of their team scrambling to diffuse the situation (and get back on task for whatever challenge they're supposed to be doing).

#really tempted to give him this ability jut for the hijinks #total drama #td noah #psycho!noah au #others' ideas #silly ideas #replies #kinda drafty in here (posts from the drafts)

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literallyjusttoa · 28 days

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Hey guys! I'm putting out a call for my commissions again for two big reasons: One, Emergencies have caused me to be low on funds when I wasn't expecting it, and that kind of sucks actually. Two, I have a project that I've been dreaming about for years but have actually been able to start working towards in the last couple of months, but to finish it I need to not be living paycheck to paycheck for like a month at the very least, which brings me back to point one :(. I will talk more about the big project under the cut, bc I think it's something you all might really enjoy!

But for now, I will link my commission sheet: Here (It's also my pinned post)

And my new Ko-fi!: Here for if you just want to donate, which would be literally incredible and I would owe you my soul actually.

Ok now for big Project Time!!!

I am in the process of editing and revising my first Youtube video! This has been an on and off dream of mine for like 7 years at this point, but I've finally taken the plunge and gotten to work on a channel. I wanna talk about all sorts of fandoms (including the riordanverse ofc) With videos ranging from plot and character analysis, to trends in fandom culture in general, to fun little ranking videos and speedpaints. All around, I just want the channel to be a fandom hive, where everyone can find something they enjoy.

I already have PNG's created of my sona to use as assets (And I have a sparkly new sona, the one in the pic above!) and I have two finished scripts, with the first one being fully recorded as well! One for my first video, which will be a retrospective on Gravity Falls, and one for a video about the Percy Jackson TV show, the inherent differences between TV and books as mediums, how I think the TV show could improve, and the things I think it got perfectly. I also have a bunch more ideas, such as:

BIG Trials of Apollo video essay, with a focus on how the books and the fandom have effected me over the years.

Ranking all of my favorite characters from all of the media I've been a fan of over the years (This would be over 70 characters)

Explaining the Iliad, but make it funny (with a side of Troy apologia)

Reading Lore Olympus and pointing out how it deviates from myth (the things I'm willing to do for you people /j)

Canon vs. Fanon, where I compare a characters canon characterization with their fanon counterpart and try to figure out how things turned out the way they did.

And more, but I don't want this post to be 5000 words long.

Now here's the big question. As I said in the part above, I'm struggling a bit now money-wise. And I really wanna make this project work, but there's also, you know. Tuition. Rent. Food. Stupid other adult stuff. So if anyone is amenable (and this is totally up to demand, I don't wanna pressure anyone into doing anything!) I was also thinking of maybe making a Patreon. Now, I'd have to do research for this, bc I wanna make sure anyone who signed up would get the right rewards and really get the bang for their buck. I'm pretty sure there's not gonna be much interest in this rn, cuz like, I'm not that big of a blog oof. But if anyone is interested! Here are some of the perks I would definitely be implementing! (sry it's another list)

Early access to videos, and behind the scenes looks at art assets and video creation

the ability to request topics for videos

Patrons names being shown in the videos. And higher tiered patrons getting custom chibis that will be shown in videos as well (and given to the patrons obv)

This ones a bit complicated, but I want to create a cover of a song that has to do with each video to play during their outros. So like, for the gravity falls video, I'm gonna record a quick cover of the Disco Girl song from the show. Only a small section of the song would be in each video, but patrons would get access to the full covers, and be able to request songs to be covered.

Discounts on commissions

A monthly speedpaint that would be exclusive to patreon. Patrons would be able to vote on what the drawing would be.

All of these ideas I'm 100% sure I want to add to a patreon if I make one, but obv there could be more that comes up later. I'm just gauging interest on this idea rn, so let me know if that's something you'd be down to sign up for! Maybe I'm jumping the gun here but I'm just really excited to create and give back to the community and aaahhhhh

Now, no matter what, I'm gonna have this first video out by mid-September at the latest. Because stupid money troubles are not gonna stop me from making this a thing dangit. So look out for that, I'll link the vid here when it releases! But I am just really stressed rn and any support would go a long way towards making this dream come true. And on that note, one more sappy real talk if I am allowed it?

If you've read this far, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. This community and fandom is truly incredible. My blog is about to reach 5 years old, and I've never seen a group of people so accepting and creative and just fun to be around. You guys have truly changed my life, and I wouldn't have the courage to try for this if I didn't have the support you've given me. I know this is super dramatic for just trying to make a youtube channel, but making a place where I could just talk about all the nerdy and overly specific things I care about and share them with the world is something I've wanted for my whole life. You guys gave me that with this blog, and if this channel works out, it'll be thanks to you, so you'll have given it to me twice. I don't have the words to express how much I love this community and all the incredible people in it. So even if you can't support, just know that being here for however long you have been, whether it's the whole five years or the last two days, has done more than you'll ever know. You guys are the best, thank you for everything <3

#sunny speaks #apollart #long post #commissions #trials of apollo #toa apollo #lester papadopoulos #sry for the tags I just want to reach everybody in the audience #writing this got me so in my feels oml #shut up sunny #also I hope you guys like the new sona I wanted to change it up a bit #I got a mask now >:)#I always feel weird about posting about commissions and stuff bc I feel like i'm begging #Like I know I'm providing a service it's just ughhhh #But! Big plans mean big things to give to you guys to enjoy! And that's what I'm excited about!

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btssmutficslovingfan01 · 6 months

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Berries and Crème

⇰ Summary: You find that not all is well in the land of Strawberryland, where there are seven men with colorful hair that have never laid eyes upon a woman before meeting you.

⇰ Words: 12k

⇰ Genre: Smut & Angst (Crackfic)

⇰ Pairing: BTS x fem!Reader (all members)

⇰ Warnings: Strawberry Shortcake AU, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Dubious Consent, Implied war, Mentions of PTSD, Voyeurism, Breeding kink, creampie, Jungkook centric, the boys are clueless and don't know what sex is until you ruin their innocence, fucking of pumpkins-food play-ish?, lots of fruit puns/references to sweet things because of the theme, comparing pussy to pumpkinussy(?), plot if you squint. A/N: I DID IT I POSTED YAYYYY! But also please enjoy, I am really tired but I felt bad so here is something I have had in drafts for a while....a fucked up strawberry shortcake au where reader isn't in a good situation-HAVE FUN! Low key kidnapping but whatever. I think I was PMSing when I wrote this. Or it was when I was in a poly relationship with two guys and got carried away.

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

You remembered traveling. You were in a car, a really nice car…and you were…yes, you were being kidnapped by your uncle. He said something about some money, some money your father wouldn’t give him. And then the car crashed.

When you came to, he was passed out and you were stranded under a tree.

Suddenly, a puppy with purple fur ran out. You were disoriented and had no clue what the time was but it was strange how the purple puppy that looked to be a toy poodle was running around you, barking as you looked around for anything that could help. Your uncle was unconscious and bleeding out right now so the only thing you could think of was to run away from him.

There was no telling what the man would do, especially now since you were injured. Sure, he was bleeding, but would that really stop him? He could still very well overpower you. You put your hand up to the dog, as if you were trying to silence it, pressing a finger against your lips and gently whispering: “Shhh, be quiet, you’ll wake him.” You noticed the puppy whining and barking as if it was trying to get someone’s attention.

Suddenly, you heard rustling coming from some bushes nearby, and noticed how big they were. The structure of this area was strange, apart from a few trees scattered around and a mysterious looking log cabin, there was a small fraction of the land that was surrounded by a row of bushes. It almost looked like it was covering something.

Then, a man just appeared, from the bushes. As if there was something hidden there, he just walked out, and you saw how he stepped THROUGH them. So they were fake. He had to be a magician or a wizard of some sort, as the world seemed to warp around him and you sensed something magical about him.

He had doe eyes, and a button nose which was wider all throughout. He was very handsome and appeared to be asian. You weren’t one to guess, but if you had to, you’d say he’s korean. His purple hair wasn’t the strangest thing about him-his outfit was. He was wearing a matching dark purple tracksuit and a light cyan blue and white shirt. His hair was put into a neat ponytail and….his eyes were a deep rich violet. He was probably wearing a cosplayer.

“Ist def douclf dtep?” That didn’t sound like any language you knew as he opened his mouth to speak. The puppy barked and ran around you, as you looked up, hot from the heat and dehydrated from the past hour of being stuck here.

“Please, help me.” You reached out to the man, in hopes of him reaching back to you before you fainted.

When you came to, you were in a bed, surrounded by two other men, who were peering at you with curiosity. A third man walked in, and as your blurry vision cleared, you could see it was the guy that helped you earlier with the tracksuit. The two other mystery men had strange hair colors and outfits too. One had maroon and pink hair fading into a lighter shade, and he was wearing a really long pink shirt with green and white tights (a man in tights? REALLY?) and lilac contacts in his eyes, while the other had a more normal appearance with blonde hair and blue eyes, but wore a lemon themed outfit, with a goofy lemon printed button up shirt and a plain white tee underneath with some shorts and a pair of white and yellow tights and yellow tennis shoes as well. What was it with the men in this place and their fucking tights?

“Ah, she’s awake?!” The purple haired man ran to you at once. You blushed a bit because it was so nerve wracking to see a good looking guy be attentive towards you. “Move away guys, give her some space.” He said to the other men.

“I can understand you.” You said while sitting up.

“Yeah. That’s because I brought you into Strawberryland. Normally we don’t let other humans cross in, in case they try destroying the town. God forbids that happens again…” He said with a slight dark twinge to his voice.

“Strawberryland?” You raised a brow and sat up. “What’s that?” You prayed they wouldn’t break into song and dance.

“It’s the name of this world. You see, long ago, the Berrymunchkins and Berrybugs needed a place to live, so a great wizard from the human world created a safe haven for all the creatures to live, hiding them away from all harm-along with a couple human beings to boot. It was meant to balance out. 15 people, and 9 of the creatures. However, the creatures felt wronged, tired of being used for labor as they had been previously in the human world. So, they retaliated. Slaughtered half of us. You see, we had siblings. There were two of us in each house, and we were happy! My sister…” He clenched his fist. “I’ll never forget what they did to Plum,” He gritted his teeth. You could tell he was going through something at the moment. Definitely looked like PTSD. “Sorry. You probably didn’t need to hear that. But it’s the current state of things. Sorry I couldn’t do more for you than offer a heatpack for your stomach and a hot towel for your forehead. We are pretty much out of medical supplies because the bug workers at the local hospital went on strike.”

You sit up slowly, wincing from the sudden pain.

“What kind of a city is this? Berrymunchkins and bugs, the color….I don’t understand how it’s so…wait, are we in a giant plum right now?” You looked around the house and noticed the shape of it. It was decorated purple, everywhere, and the windows looked candy-stripe themed as well, with green and white peppermints serving as the panes for the glass.

“Yes. Well, that is the magic of strawberryland. We weren’t born here but it gave us these physical changes. Pretty sweet if I say so myself.” The one with the blonde hair spoke up, chuckling in between.

“Wow. And this place was hidden right where the car crash happened? Wow, I guess I got lucky.” You said, sighing in relief.

“Car…crash?” The man who helped you originally asked. “Is that the name of the vehicle that brought you here? My pet, Lavendar, found you and got my attention. I almost never venture out but then when I saw you I had to help. Plus, she’s a good dog. She normally never barks like that,” He said. “Might I add…” He scans your body. “You are unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.” He said.

“Can I ask you how long you’ve been in this place?” You piped up. You had to know.

“Uh…I think a hundred and ten human years, at least?” Your eyes widened. “Time doesn’t pass for us, just barely. We don’t remember the world before this one. We don’t remember why our physical appearances changed or how, all we know is that we’re here now,” He added with a smile. “Together.” He looked back at his friends and gave them a small smile.

“Okay, so to recap: this place has powers and…you don’t have your memory from before you were here and there was a war and your siblings died, and now I’m the first human to cross the magical threshold in a century?!”

“Yep, that sounds about right.” He replied, nodding.

“I’ve gotta be dreaming. Wake up!” You yelled. Nothing happened. The men just stared at you like you grew a third arm.

“Ugh, why isn’t it working?” He sat down on the bed, next to you as you slapped your face.

“Please stop doing that, you’ll give yourself a concussion at this rate.” He said with a softer tone. You felt oddly compelled to listen to everything he said without protest. Technically, he did save you. You blushed as he grabbed your arms to keep you from smacking your forehead a fifth time.

“I uh…thanks for saving me,” You sighed. “Actually, I was in danger before you found me anyways…” You weren’t sure if you wanted to share.

“It’s okay. You sound shaken up. Makes sense, you were trapped there for a long time. Look at your skin, you’ve been sweating so much, and your body is barely sitting up straight. We need to get you some food and proper care immediately.” He said, making your heart skip a beat yet again.

Your stomach grumbled just as he said that. Damn you!

“Uh…sir?” You asked hesitantly.

“Yes?” He parted his lips and looked at you with so much focus you thought you would explode.

“What’s your name?”

“Jungkook.” He smiled at you.

“I’m Y/N.” You smiled back at him.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” He kissed your hand. He let his lips linger there for a moment and looked back at the other men before looking back at you. “I’ll let my friends here introduce themselves to you. I gotta take Lavender on a walk.” He said, before leaving through the front door.

“I’m Seokjin. ‘Jin,’ for short.” The blonde said, standing tall.

“And I’m Jimin. Also go as ‘Jimmy,’ or ‘Chim.’ But only my friends call me that really.” The pink haired one scratched his head.

“Okay, I have a weird question for you guys but…promise not to judge?” You asked, blushing a bit as you tried not to stare at the outlines of their bulges.

“What is it?” Jin asked curiously.

“Why are you wearing tights?”

It was as if you asked ‘how do you breathe?’ to them, as they started roaring with laughter.

“Honey, I don't know what to tell you. We’ve always worn tights. Why do you ask?” Jin asked, completely oblivious to the fact that even though he was wearing shorts the tights did press down on his dick.

You look at Jimin, who was wearing the shirt and suddenly noticed it was JUST the shirt. You licked your lips. That was very interesting to know that you were seeing everything below the shirt, even though he was wearing tights.

“You’re not wearing pants.” You said.

“Of course I’m not! I never wear pants.” He folded his arms.

“He’s protesting them because the rest of us tease him about his habit about walking around naked in his house.” Jin shared with you.

“I get it. So you all live alone?” You asked, changing the subject. That’s enough ogling Jimin’s obvious bulge for now. At least you had confirmation he was pantsless.

“Yeah. We do.” Jin says. “There’s seven of us, at the moment.”

“Oh?” You perked up. There were more? If the trend follows they were all gorgeous men.

“Might I add, Jungkook was right,” He slowly let his fingers trail down your chin. “You are quite interesting to look at. We’ve never seen anyone with your eye or hair color around, and that skin tone.” He was vague, but that was okay, as you knew you were exhausted and didn’t look your best.

“Sorry…I think I need a shower.” You felt rude, but Jimin walked you out of the bed towards it. The shower and bathroom was pretty similar to home so you were thankful. After you were done you changed back into your bloody clothes, which caused both Jin and Jimin to freak out.

“Here, take my shirt!” Jin said, throwing off his button down.

“You can take my tights,” Jimin said, and before you could stop him…penis.

You were staring. It was just..out in the open. And Jin wasn’t even batting an eye! Did these men have no concept of shame? You blushed. He wasn’t even wearing underwear.

“What?” Jimin looked at you. “Did I say something?” Jin shrugged as you simply ogled Jimin.

“S-sorry. Uh…in my world it is customary for men and women to not show their genitalia to each other unless they are practicing sexual relations with each other.” You explained.

“Sexual…” Jimin started.

“Relations…?” Jin finished.

“What’s that?” They both had no clue what the fuck sex was. Your mind went to a very bad place. You decided, the opportunity doesn’t present itself often, you needed to get your mind off the fact that a few hours ago your uncle kidnapped you, and Jungkook had gotten you horny beyond belief. Not to mention, these two seemed more than intrigued by you anyways.

“You want me to show you?” You raised a brow.

“Show us how?” Jimin asked, his cock swinging back and forth as he spoke.

“You know the thing you use to pee with?” You asked.

“Yeah,” Jimin smiled. “My penis.” He said.

“Correct. Did you know you could also put it in something and make it feel good?” You said, smirking.

“Like what?” He asked.

“Anything, different textures. Obviously you’re both novices so I’ll just give you something easy to start with,” You looked around and noticed two pumpkins sitting on the counter, with all the seeds scooped out of them. “Oh, I know…guys, is Jungkook using those pumpkins?” You ask.

“No, he was planning to throw them out soon cause they go bad in a few days.” Jin says.

“Okay great. So I want you guys right now to take the pumpkins,” You say, smirking as you had a great idea to ‘teach’ them, without fully corrupting them just yet. They listen to your instructions. “Pull down your tights and take out your penises,” You tell them. They do that. “Now, slowly move your penis into the hole Jungkook cut out, it should be big enough,” You observe them slowly, smirking as they started, eyebrows furrowed like they were learning a new skill. “Every time you move your hips back and forth, it’s called fucking,” You say. “Congrats on learning how to have sex. Basically, you just masturbated, or ‘self-pleasured.’” You tell them, clapping.

“Fucking. Mmm…Y/N, this feels really good.” Jimin groaned. His moans just got you riled up.

“I feel like I might explode, from the inside…” Jin said, his white shirt patched with sweat, and you could see his nipples were erect through the shirt.

“Let it happen, it feels like you’re about to pee? That’s called an orgasm.” You said.

“Orgasm,” Jimin repeated. “O-orgasm….Y/N, I’m about to orgasm!” He said, as if he had just learned a new vocab word.

“Come for me Jimin, baby…come for me.” You whispered against his ear, sucking the shell of it as he continued fucking into the pumpkin, the sound of his cock hitting the back of it could be heard. The slosh of Jimin’s and Seokjin’s cocks moving in and out of their respective pumpkins were all you could hear at the moment.

“Ahhhh nnnnnggg…” Jimin moaned, filling the pumpkin with his semen at the same time as Jin, who came and groaned, looking at you ecstatically.

“That was great!” Jin smiled. “I wanna do that all the time!” He told you.

“Well that’s the thing about sex, it’s good. It feels good, or is supposed to feel good.” You explained. “I haven’t had sex in a few months.” You sigh.

“Do you wanna try?” Jin handed his cum-filled pumpkin to you in hopes of trying to cheer you up.

“Sorry, Jin,” You pushed the pumpkin back to him, crinkling your nose a bit. The smell of cum wasn’t bad, it was just the idea of having cold cum on your hands. “Women have a different anatomy than men. I might as well teach you guys the second lesson.” You explain.

“Hm?” Jimin asked.

You slowly pull off the tights Jimin lent you. The men crouch down, so they can take a look. They were staring at your panties.

“You’ve never seen underwear before?” You asked.

“No.” Jin said, staring intently between your legs.

“Us women have a different body structure than yours. We don’t have penises to fuck pumpkins with…” You said, chuckling slightly at the end of your sentence. “…instead we have wombs and holes that are meant to be fucked…” You slowly pulled off your panties to show them, blushing pink as they stared at your exposed clit.

“Oh…” Jin looked at it, with a mouth-watering expression.

“Wow…it’s so pretty.” Jimin said, complimenting you.

“C-can I touch it?” Jin asked. You knew this was already a pretty slippery slope but he was the one asking.

“Yeah, sure, if you want.” You whispered. Jin slowly squeezed on your clit, and circled his fingers around slowly.

“Does that feel good, Y/N?” He asked, staring directly at you. “It smells so yummy,” He whispers. “Can I eat it?” Oh god.

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.

“H-huh?!” Jimin looks at Jin with a blush too. “No fair-I wanna eat it!” Jimin said.

“O-or…” You piped up. You should probably stop talking. “You could both share it.” You said, slowly taking their hands and placing one on either side of your inner thighs while you sat on the bed.

“Okay…” Jimin nodded.

“Yeah, I don’t mind.” Jin said in agreement. They both slowly slid their tongues up your clit as you moaned. It had been too long since you had a guy or two go down on you.

“Sorry, does it hurt?” Jimin was confused but he had the right idea as you groaned.

“Mm, no, it feels good.” You admit. You sigh, before Jin slowly trailed his tongue down to your sweet spot. You gasped.

“Ah, watch it…that’s the hole…” You tried to explain. “Like the pumpkin?” He didn’t say it like he was clarifying, it was almost like he caught on what you were trying to do. One thing you knew for sure was that these guys learned fast…perhaps their intellect was also enhanced in this colorful twisted Strawberryland. “I understand…so you want us to stuff your wet fleshy hole in the same way?” He said, now using a bit of his saliva to part your inner lips, spreading it apart to get better access to you. You let out a ghastly moan as your juices mixed with his, and as Jimin kept sucking your clit all while this was happening all you could do was moan out, your eyes squeezed shut.

“That makes her feel good, huh?” Jimin’s voice was raspy now, as he panted, staring at your body almost like he was taking you in before destroying you.

“Let’s do the fucking,” Jin said, toying with your clit and using another finger on your exposed opening as your body sucked him in with ease. Your weeping cunt was forced to take his fingers, as he realized he could fuck you with two instead of one. “She’s like a keyboard, Jimin, we play her with our fingers and she makes wonderful music with her lips.” Jin said so innocently yet with his erotic expression and the raging boner he was rocking you begged to differ.

“Maybe she’ll like it here…she’s also a little sour.” Jimin asked, as he moved his hands further up your body to try and find your other weak spots. Then he stopped at your breasts, squeezing them through your bra and shirt. Jimin lifted your shirt off your body before you could protest.

“W-wait…” You whispered, but Jin was already too busy licking your sopping clit and thrusting his digits in and out of your hole while Jimin was focused on the new part of you he had just discovered.

“So that’s what you look like underneath…” Jimin said with a light glimmer in his eyes. “I wanna fucking you.” You suppressed a giggle at his flimsy attempt at using the word but soon enough it turned into a moan as he pinched your nipples, hard.

“Ah!” You screamed.

“What’s the matter? Don’t you want me to help you orgasm?” Jimin asked, with a small pout on his lips.

“Y-yes, but…it hurts when you squeeze me like that. Don’t be too rough, okay?” You told him gently.

“Sorry.” He leaned in and kissed you softly at first, while you thrust your hips back and forth reflexively on Jin’s fingers. Jimin’s lips were plump and juicy as his ass looked earlier in those tights, and you could taste a faint hint of raspberries on them…he tasted like a sweet treat! He kneaded your breasts with his hands, circling them around as you came on Jin’s hands and face.

“Cumming!” You moaned, as you came to a climax. Your body was still aching for more though, as Jin licked up your juices and trailed kisses down to your clit again before stringing beads of your cum back up with his nose. The sight in itself was marvelous. “Please give me your cocks,” You begged. “I need it.” You whispered, with a shell of a moan.

Just as Jin was about to speak and Jimin was playing with your breasts some more, you heard the front door open and a few moments later, footsteps. You stopped your activities when the door swung open and in came Jungkook, who looked confused.

“W-what’s happening?” He asked, noticing how you were naked, sprawled on the bed between Jimin and Jin in a compromising situation.

“Um, nothing!” You quickly hid behind the sheets, as Jimin tried to continue grabbing you. “Jimin, stop!”

“Why are you suddenly so shy? You were begging for our penises just moments ago.” He said with a seductive inflection in his voice.

“That’s because-it’s private! You normally don’t do that with just anyone. I was just showing you and Jin because you asked.” You explained, blushing as Jungkook simply tilted his head in confusion. You saw his eyes filled with curiosity and innocence too, but alas, you couldn’t corrupt him too!

“Ah, no fair. Can’t we just show Jungkook too? I mean, you can’t blame us. You’re the first human woman to show up here that knows about this. We have never even heard of “sex” before you showed us!” Jimin said excitedly.

“You do have a point there…” You said. “Jungkook, would you like to see my pussy?” You asked, covering yourself still with the thin blankets.

“Pussy?” Jungkook’s face turned a faint pink. “O-oh, you mean like…”

“Wait, could it be that you know about it, Jungkook?” Jin asked, slinging his arm around the man as he scratched his head.

“I learned it from Doctor Genus, the berrymuchkin prodigy,” Jungkook explained. “Remember, I was trying to learn to become a Doctor because of the shortage in hospitals?” Jungkook explained. He looked at you, with widened eyes. “I’ve never seen one of our own species before…I do wonder what it looks like.” He said.

“So you wanna see it?” You asked. Jin and Jimin licked their lips, as Jungkook replied.

“Yes.”

At once, Jimin and Jin pulled the covers off you to reveal your naked body to Jungkook.

“Wow…it’s so…pretty,” Jungkook slowly crouched down to inspect it. “Definitely not like a bug,” You felt like his reaction so far has made sense in terms of what you’re used to for men your age (which still in their mid-twenties is still pretty shit considering a lot of them lie about their experience). “May I…inspect it?” You gulped. He was being so respectful. You nodded slightly, spreading your legs so Jungkook could get a better look. “This is great. A real pussy!” He sounded more excited.

“Yeah. And guess what Jungkook?” Jin said.

“What?” You were a bit afraid of what the two were about to say to him, as you knew if they started they would get hooked on your pussy.

“She gave me and Jimin permission to fucking her.” Of course, the one time he used it grammatically correctly was of course when he was describing it to the one man which probably had a better grasp of sex than the others. You clenched your jaw. What if Jungkook thought you were a whore?

“Fucking?” Jungkook’s lips parted and he let out a sigh, his hands on his hips. “What’s that?”

You gasped as Jimin, who was fully naked waist down since he gave his tights to you, and Jin, who was still sporting his hard on were right next to you.

“We can show you,” Jimin smirked. “Y/N, do you want us to fucking you?” You smiled at Jimin. He was still learning.

“First; it’s called fuck. You ask if you want to fuck someone. Fucking is the action of doing that. There. And yes, I would love to, but you will have to be more gentle with me than the pumpkin because my body could get more hurt. Remember I was in an accident earlier.” You explained. Jimin nodded, looking more serious. You guessed he got the hint that you were telling him this so he could have better guidance.

“It’s okay. When we’re busy using our fingers on you like you’re our keyboard, you won’t even notice if we’re being a little too rough.” Jin said, grabbing your face so he could kiss you. You groaned as he forced his tongue into your mouth.

“Mmmm…!” You groaned. He tasted like lemons, smelled like them too, but it was more of a citrus smell than just lemons. It smelled like a variety of fruity perfume from Zara. He tasted delectable.

“Get a chair, Jungkook,” Jimin said, as he stroked his pretty pink tip. You moaned, seeing his dick in front of your face as you sat up in the bed and Jin started removing his remaining clothes. “I’m putting it inside, Y/N.” Jimin warned you, as you nodded and he pushed his hips forward. You moaned like a little bitch in heat. You could hear Lavendar barking downstairs.

“Give me a second, Lavender normally never barks. Let me go see what she wants.” Jungkook said, before departing the room.

“It’s okay, he can watch when he gets back. Do you mind still doing it?” You were surprised how Jimin went from being a totally horny boy to asking for your consent before continuing. It was a nice change of pace, but that just told you more about his character than anything.

“Yeah…be careful. Short strokes. Your dick isn’t humongous but it is on the larger side so it may be difficult for you to put it in.” You explained, while Jin watched as Jimin was being careful with your body.

“Okay.” Jimin slowly slid his cock into you with ease, as you were already wet enough. He started thrusting sloppily, unable to do it at an expert level but still reaching your deepest spots with every thrust as he fucked you best he could as a novice.

“Oooooohhh…Jimin!” You groaned.

“MMmmm…it’s so warm, and gripping me so hard.” He sounded desperate to climax as he held your thighs while you rolled your body back and forth while he thrusted up. Your skin smacked together in a way where the wet noises resounded through the room. Jimin’s pinkish cock was inside of you, and you were even more aroused when you heard voices downstairs and then the door slammed shut before Jungkook ran back up to join you.

“Sorry that took so long. Namjoon was making his last runs. Just got a fresh batch of oranges!” Jungkook said to Jin as he joined you back upstairs.

“D-don’t worry…y-you didn’t m-miss…much…” Jimin moaned as he was now fucking you in missionary position, now on top of you as opposed to you riding him. You groaned with every thrust and your eyes rolled back as you felt close. “Mmm, gonna….orgasm…” Jimin moaned, kissing your neck as you groaned and rubbing his face in your breasts before thrusting fully and sending you to your own personal creampie heaven as he came.

You loved creampies, of all shapes and sizes and varieties. It was your main kink. So the thought of getting gangbanged and potentially creampied was your biggest dream come true. This right now, with Jimin, Jin, and Jungkook, all felt like a dream. You groaned as your body rocked and you chased your high, thrusting your hips upwards in hopes of drawing out the orgasm and using Jimin’s pretty pink cock to get yourself off. You came, just as he pulled out, you actually squirted.

“I…” You said, too overstimulated to move as he didn’t touch you for a moment.

“What was that?” Jin asked in confusion.

“Did you pee?” Jimin asked in a teasing tone.

“N-no, I squirted, it rarely happens to girls when they orgasm but it typically contains cum…and just a hint of urine,” You explained sheepishly. “Sorry, let me change the sheets.” You tried standing up but wobbled and fell back down on the bed. Jimin held you tightly, as if he was comforting you.

“Try not to stand too quickly. Besides, Jin here wants to also try out your hole,” Jimin said gently. “Are you sure you can handle that?” You were still slicked with cum and your own jism that you didn’t care.

“Yeah.” Was all you said as Jin slid beside you, while Jimin moved off the bed. It was a queen sized bed so it definitely wasn’t all that spacious for three people. Jimin and Jin were kneeling while they ate you out earlier too so that’s why it worked out. As for now…Jin teased your entrance with his fingers before pushing his cock in with ease. In contrast to Jimin, Jin was a more passionate and aggressive lover, pulling you close to him and making sure you could see his face while he piledrove his dick into you. You gasped and shuddered with every thrust, he was facing you, you could see how his hips met yours, and how his cock couldn’t completely fit in, so he went only halfway. You had to measure later but you wanted to say he was closer to 10 inches?

“Jimin’s right, it is warm and tight…” Jin smirked. “I like pussy.” Jin said with a cheeky tone in his voice.

“Y-you better, it’s meant to be enjoyed.” You said back seductively, moaning into the pillow as he pounded you for all you were worth.

“Jungkook, isn’t she something else?” Jimin said as he sat on a beanbag next to Jungkook.

“Yeah. She’s beautiful. And this is…sex?” Jungkook looked like he was making mental note of it as he watched Jin’s cock slide into your hole once more.

“Yep, and she’s a fantastic teacher.” Jimin said with a grin.

“I wanna have sex…” Jungkook looked at you with lust.

“Mmmhmm, me too, Jungkook.” Jimin smirked, looking back at you. “Here, let me show you how to masterbate…” Jimin slowly tugged his own cock, looking back at you and Jin on the bed as if he was watching an early morning special. Jungkook followed suit, removing his joggers to reveal his throbbing tanned dick, which was at least 8 inches. It was a bit bigger than Jimin’s, which already was pretty big to begin with. Do all the men here have big penises? You wondered. You watched Jungkook and Jimin stroking themselves, moaning as Jin continued fucking you before blowing his load. You gasped and your pussy clamped down on his cock, sucking him in before the white volcano splashed and the suction loosened, letting him go with a slow squelch. Your body collapsed out of fatigue.

“That’s enough for tonight, guys. She’s exhausted. Let’s let her sleep.” Jungkook ushered the other men out of his house after lending Jimin and Jin some spare tights and then switched off the lights. He bought you some dinner while checking up on you.

“Aw, thank you Jungkook,” You smiled at him. Suddenly your face turned pale. “Uh, did you by chance throw those pumpkins out earlier?” You asked. Jungkook furrowed his brows in confusion before nodding.

“Yeah…why?” He asked.

“Whew, nevermind,” You wiped the sweat off your brow while Jungkook watched you eat for a bit. “Why do you all look at me like that?” You asked, having had enough of the staring for a day.

“Sorry if it’s weird, we have just never seen a woman in so long, especially one that looks like you. And I know I told you of our past, but it’s so much more complicated when…” He fell silent. “I used to have a sister,” He sighed, before leaning back, the dim lighting of the bedroom was enough for you to make out that he was pondering something. “After the damn war, she was lost. So were the others. You’ll get to meet the remaining few tomorrow, the other humans I mean. And maybe Mr. Caterpillar.” Jungkook said with a small smile.

“I hope so,” You smiled back at him. “And I hope they’re just as nice as you guys have been to me so far,” Jungkook smiled a bit, before leaning in. “Y/N, may I taste your lips?” You raised a brow.

“Huh?”

“Every one of us has a distinct taste. Jimin tastes like Raspberries, Jin like lemons, and me, like plums. I wonder…since you’re not from around here what you taste like?” You were a little weirded out. How the hell does he know what his friends taste like? Although, honestly earlier while you were kissing them you noted their delicious tastes. You wondered if they all regularly made out or something to know that. “What are you thinking about, I wonder, silly girl?” Jungkook called you silly.

“Hey, I am not-” He leaned in and kissed you. After a second, you kissed back. He was really good at that. You wished all boys would shut you up the same way. After a small amount of time, he kissed your forehead and bid you adieu. You fell back, and it was off to dreamland.

You were awoken to the sound of the door opening, you weren’t expecting him to be back so soon but you supposed he couldn’t hold back after seeing you earlier. He slowly slid into bed beside you, hugging you from behind. You don’t know what you were expecting, but you stayed still. Then…you felt wet hot tears on the back of your neck. Was Jungkook…crying? He was. You heard his sobs muffled by him rubbing his face into your back and his hands.

“Plum…I miss you so much…” He cried softly, and after a while his breathing slowed. You sensed he was asleep, so you turned around to find him passed out like a baby. You slowly wrapped your arms around him and stroked his shoulders as he nestled his head into your neck while he slept. You spooned him as you gradually also followed suit, and drifted back to sleep.

When you awoke Jungkook was still sleeping. He was gorgeous. He looked like any regular ol’ human, minus the purple hair and eyes, but he was. And his skin was pale, but not so pale it washed him out. You watched him sleep for a few more seconds before he shifted and his eyes met yours with a sleepy, “Good morning,” From him.

You smiled and kissed him softly, as he hummed and pulled you on top of him. “You noticed me?” He asked. “Sorry for sneaking into your bed in the middle of the night. I just had lots of memories…” Jungkook yawned. “Anyways, wanna get breakfast?” You gave him a sad sigh, but nodded.

“Sure, watchu got?” You asked him.

“Oranges!” He set them down in front of you after you joined him downstairs. Because you wanted some dignity, you had wrapped one of Jungkook’s shirts around your hips as a makeshift skirt. It was baggy and loose so it sat around your hips nicely after you had tied it best you could.

“Thanks,” You ate the fruits and then saw the puppy. She ran out of her doghouse to greet you. “Hi puppy!” You pet her as she yapped in your face.

“She’s happy to see you alive and well!” Jungkook smiled at you, grinning. “By the way, you taste like…whatever you eat! I tasted the noodles I got for you last night.”

“Yeah, that’s generally how it works for us normal humans.” You explained to Jungkook while playing with Lavender.

“Is that right?” Jungkook finished cutting up some more fruits. “Anyways, I have to get to work soon, but you’re welcome to join me today if you wish. You’re probably sore from Jimin and Jin’s…uh….play session yesterday, right?” You nodded.

“That’s alright. But…I do wanna return the favor to you Jungkook,” You hugged him softly. “You’re just so damn cute..” You whisper, trailing your hands over his tracksuit pants again.

“Ah-ah….Y/N, what are you doing to me?” You tie your hair back, and get on your knees.

“Jungkook, can I please suck you off?” You asked directly. That was required in this land where the men are hot but their brains don’t have a clue about it.

“Uh….are you sure?” He asked softly. “I-I…don’t wanna pressure you…”

“I’m fine.” You looked up at him for confirmation before he finally gave you a yes. You immediately got to work, all while his dog whined from her doghouse on seeing you fuck her owner with your mouth. You knew sex wasn’t a concept here but you were ready to change that. Damn your overactive sex drive.

You sucked from base to tip, kissing his veiny length as best you could, before licking the surface in full and using your mouth to pleasure him. You had to be careful so your teeth didn’t scrape him but in hindsight, all attempts were successful as within five minutes, he came in your mouth. You guzzled his cum, opening your mouth wide as he released it all, and lapped up the remaining strings of semen off his thighs. His cum tasted sweeter too, just like vanilla or whipped cream. You knew it had to do with this wonderful berry land.

“Yum.” You said with a final huff. He hadn’t said a word apart from moaning every time you sucked him in, but he simply kissed you and wiped excess off your face.

“Thank you.” Jungkook smiled at you, panting slightly.

“My pleasure.” You smirked, washing your mouth before untying your hair again.

Jungkook took you into town. He said he used to help his sister with her dance studio but after a while passed it to his berry best friend, Hoseok. You were to meet him next, and you were nervous as you learned the guy was a professional dancer. You’d always wanted to give it a shot and Jungkook invited you to go to a practice lesson but today you were just visiting the studio. Jungkook still collected rent on the place, and today Hoseok’s rent was due.

When you walked in, you noticed tiny creatures running around and dancing. They looked like children, and you looked at Jungkook with confusion.

“Those are the mini-berrykins. They are produced once every winter when the spores spread from the trees and a new batch of 12 appears.” He explained.

“So they’re like…baby berrykins?” You asked.

“Yeah, I guess you can say that, in a way.” You and Jungkook walked up to the instructor, who was a red haired man, who looked to have a heart shaped smile and a very adorable and cheerful face. He was also very attractive. Your heart skipped a beat as he turned around and greeted you both.

“I hope you’re having a wonderful day, Jungkook Pudding,” He said with a smile. “Oh and who’s this? A new friend?” He peered at you with a curious expression. Upon closer inspection, he had a red themed outfit too, to match the cherry beret he was sporting. You noticed he looked similar to Jungkook with his casual leisurewear, which unlike Jimin and Jin with the tights, he was wearing dark magenta cargo pants and a hot pink and purple polka dotted t-shirt. He still looked hot, even with the outfit. You thought he’d look like a clown but he ended up looking better than you’d expect from a dude in such a fit.

“I’m Y/N.”

“Welcome to the dance studio Y/N. I’m glad you could join me today. I’m Hoseok Jam, I moved to town last so it’s strange seeing another new human being here,” He scratched his neck as you simply smirked at him. He probably had a better idea of what was what. “Especially a girl.” He added with a grin.

“So Y/N here was in a car accident and she was in trouble. So I brought her with me and she’s staying at my house,” Jungkook explained softly. “She’s been teaching me a lot of new things.” He said.

“Really? Like what?” Hoseok asked with a twinkle in his eyes. “Do you dance?” He asked you.

“Well, not really. But…I was teaching Jungkook about sex yesterday.” You explained sheepishly. There was no point in being a prude when no one in town knew any better.

“Sex…?” Hoseok looked clueless.

“She can teach you,” Jungkook looked at you with a soft gaze. “Right, Y/N?” You were already leaning against the barre, as Hoseok and Jungkook walked up behind you.

“Right. I’ll try my best,” You looked at Hoseok. “It helps you dance. It’s sorta like dancing but….dirtier.” You tried explaining.

“Oh? Dirty how?” Hoseok was inquisitive, that’s for sure. “What is it?” He asked with a soothing voice. You felt hypnotized as he pulled you towards him. You were a couple inches away from his face. Jungkook had turned on some music so you could dance.

It took you a moment, as the upbeat pop song urged Hoseok to move more vigorously, and he slowed down, grinding his hips against yours as you smirked and got close and personal with him. He grabbed your ass, smirking cheekily. You had a feeling these men weren’t as clueless as you originally thought, either that or you awakened something within him.

“Mmmm…you mind?” Hoseok asked as he grabbed your thigh.

“What?” You bit your lip, as he trailed his hand down.

“I wanna make sure if I touch you, that you’re okay. Teach me this new ‘dance’ then?” Oh….he was asking. And Jungkook was watching for now, but slowly stepped over to you, pulling your shirt off your body swiftly.

“Oh she’s more than okay with it…” Jungkook answered for you, slightly rubbing your hardened nipples through your bra. “...See that? It means her body is ready to be fucked.” The tone he used, the way he sounded while he was kneading your breasts, it was as if his innocence was a charade, merely an act kept up by him before his true nature was brought to the surface.

“That’s not…you know you have to ask before you do this sort of stuff?” You said with a faint blush dusting your cheeks.

“What? Really? Because it seems like you’re pretty much up for everything regardless…” Jungkook pouted slightly. “Can’t we just do it whenever we feel like it?” It seemed Jungkook had your enthusiasm confused for consent. You didn’t blame him, from your previous actions it seemed like you were more than ready to consent to that.

“I suppose you have a point…but still, asking never hurts!” You coddled him as if he was a child.

“Okay…I promise to ask,” Jungkook hugged you softly, wrapping his arms around your waist while Hoseok ogled your breasts as Jungkook unclasped your bra. “Can I fuck you now?”

You couldn’t say no, not when you saw his eyes. You began kissing him and Hoseok looked on with curiosity. You smirked, before breaking the kiss and turning to kiss Hoseok. Hoseok was a little confused at first, but slowly responded by placing his hands on your shoulders and leaning down so he could meet your lips. He tasted vaguely like cherries.

“Mmmm.” He moaned. “Ah…you’re hard…” You whispered as you saw his cock bulging through his pants. It was begging to be freed, while you looked at Jungkook with half-lidded eyes. “Jungkook, Hoseok, remove your pants.” You told them in a lowered voice. You prayed nobody would walk in but it looked like everyone had left. Now you, Jungkook, and Hoseok were positioned on the floor on a foam matt as Jungkook was at your head and Hoseok was positioned between your thighs. He was exploring you, following whatever his body urged him to do as you groaned between them. Jungkook held you on his lap, smirking and encouraging Hoseok.

“Oh, she liked that. Suck her there again, Hoseok.” Jungkook smirked at him. You simply moaned, as Hoseok’s tongue swept over your folds, and he suckled your clit.

“Ah!”

“She tastes so good….in a different way. I’ve never tasted anything like it.” Hoseok said with a small smile.

“I know, that’s just her pussy. Her lips taste better in my opinion,” Jungkook smirked, before leaning forward and spreading your pussy cautiously. “Now just put your penis in here. Trust me, it is so much better than going to the bathroom.” Hoseok was confused but watched with curious eyes as you guided his cockhead into your pulsing hole, as you groaned from his size. He was a grower, something you hadn’t experienced in Strawberryland yet.

“It’s so warm…I feel like I might pee.” Hoseok groaned, closing his eyes. “W-wait, don’t pee! It’s only for pleasure.” You said with an exhausted moan.

“You tired, Y/N?” Jungkook asked, holding you tighter. “A little…”

“Let’s change the position. Hoseok, how about we continue this in your office?” Jungkook reminded him of the rent again. It was so wonderfully debauched as you took Jungkook’s cock in your mouth and Hoseok’s cock from behind, while they talked about the rent and finances in Hoseok’s office. You were propped on the desk on all fours, moaning like a bitch in heat.

“Yeah, so the projected rate looks like it’s only growing. I don’t doubt that but I would like to see how it changes based on the changes I proposed.” Jungkook said, placing a hand on his chin as he pushed his cock all the way into your mouth. You choked, groaning as he ignored you and kept going despite seeing how it affected you.

“Mmmmm, too much.” You croaked, but he responded by gripping your hair and thrusting into your mouth harder. Hoseok noticed and picked up the pace, fucking you at a slightly more advanced pace now.

“I think it’ll be f-fine. Ah, I’m…I feel strange, Jungkook.” He said, gripping your waist.

“How so?” Jungkook questioned.

“Something is coming out of me, and going into Y/N.” He gripped your sides harder, his fingers forming small red marks on your skin.

“It’s an orgasm, Hoseok. You’re cumming.” You explained between breaths, moaning and gasping and letting go of Jungkook’s cock as Hoseok came all over your ass. He had pulled out, luckily, and decided not to cum inside you. You still weren’t sure what the consequences were but it was exciting nonetheless to have sex with so many gorgeous men thus far.

After bidding Hoseok goodbye, Jungkook took you to visit three more of his friends. Luckily, they were all together, busy with selling fresh fruits to the citizens of Strawberryland. You met Yoongi Shortcake, Taehyung Muffin, and Namjoon Blossom. You also found out that Namjoon was the one that delivered those oranges to Jungkook’s house the night before. Their personalities: all different. Yoongi was more introverted, he didn’t say much but his bright pink hair made you believe he was a real life anime character. He certainly looked handsome enough to be one, that’s for sure.

Taehyung had shockingly bright blue hair and a blue outfit to match, and he was extroverted, quickly offering you a fresh cookie after hearing about the car crash and hearing that you were in an unfamiliar world. His touch was warm, and he made you feel comfortable. Namjoon had a ‘dad’ type of vibe. When you met him, he gave you a smile and chatted with you about sales. He was really cute, all in all.

All three had their own charm, and every guy treated Jungkook like he was their little brother. You loved how close they were.

“So those were all the humans in town. It’s just us seven.” Jungkook said as he laid down on his couch after you arrived back to his home.

“I’m glad you have each other.” You said with a small smile.

“Oh I forgot, tomorrow, we’re having a bake off. Any dish we want,” Jungkook smirked. “I’m gonna win this year.”

“How do you know that?” You folded your arms.

“Just a feeling. So Y/N, how do you feel about having more fucks?”

After sleeping on it, you agreed to his idea. Jungkook, every man that met you here, so far everyone had been more than willing to indulge in you. Your hair was different, and biologically, a woman. They had some sort of a male instinct awakened in them whenever they looked at you.

Luckily, you were able to get cuter clothes from a Bug Shop which Jungkook agreed to buy if you agreed to help him. So, in your new green themed corset dress, and white tights and black Mary Janes, you walked over to help Jungkook setup. He smirked when he saw how the other men looked at you, like he anticipated it. He nodded at you and licked his lips but didn’t say much as you went around to talk to the others.

You walked up to Namjoon first, who was unfolding some chairs but stopped abruptly upon seeing you.

“Hey Y/N,” He scratched his neck. “You look lovely today.” He smiled shyly.

“Thanks Namjoon. I’m just wishing everybody good luck.” You winked at him. His dimples were honestly so adorable as he thanked you for wishing him.

“Thanks Y/N,” He stopped. “Hey, would you like to maybe hang out sometime after the competition?” He asked. You were expecting it.

“Sure,”

You visited Yoongi’s booth next. He had set up everything, sighing when you walked up to him. “Is everything okay?” You asked him.

“No, they gave me the wrong shipments! I was supposed to get strawberries, not blueberries.” Yoongi sighed.

“Blueberries?” Taehyung piped up. “If you’re not using those can I have them? I can always make another batch of my sister’s famous blueberry crème brulee!” Yoongi reluctantly gave Taehyung his ingredients. “Wow, thanks bro!” Taehyung slapped his back and walked off to continue. You felt a little bad for Yoongi, it looked like he couldn’t participate in the bakeoff.

“Yoongi…what about strawberry jam instead?” You asked, showing him the box of extra ingredients. “You could create the same flavor out of these, right?” You asked him for confirmation.

“You have a point but…I’ll use them on one condition.” You stop moving the box.

“What is it?”

“You’ll have to help me.” Yoongi smirked, as if he had been planning this from the start.

“O-okay.” You weren’t going to protest. You didn’t know him well, none of them really, but you knew enough to know they were all really friendly people.

“Start with mixing the batter,” You nodded and followed his instructions. “What are you doing? You’re not supposed to mix the eggshells in with it!” He gaped at you as you took the spoon out in confusion.

“Sorry, I don’t cook.” You grinned sheepishly. He sighed and started cracking the eggs for you.

“No eggshells. Those are like poison,” You sighed as he shoved the new bowl into your arms. “Start mixing.” You nodded, getting to work at once.

You set Yoongi back 10 minutes but after seeing how poor your skills in the kitchen were, he eventually took over, only making you watch over the timer. You didn’t mess that up, as at the end, his concoction was done. A custard dish, with strawberry flavored spongecake. Taehyung, who was right next to the two of you glanced over as you worked, and his eyes widened when he saw how it turned out. Then he had a wild idea.

“Wait, you should mix these in. Trust me. It’s gonna be like heaven in your mouth!” He was helping the enemy? You didn’t understand the ethics in Strawberryland and Yoongi accepted extra blueberries from Taehyung. After reworking it and getting another batch out, you noticed how the blueberries enhanced the flavor. Taehyung was right, it’s even better.

With that, Yoongi was crowned the winner. You went to see Jungkook, who was sad but ultimately happy for Yoongi. At least he wasn’t a sore loser. Yoongi looked at Taehyung as he accepted the trophy.

“Actually, I don’t deserve this. If it wasn’t for my friend Taehyung, I would have never won. Everyone give it up for Taehyung: the real winner of the bake-off!” Yoongi said, holding his hand up in victory.

“Really?! Thanks Yoongi!” Taehyung hugged him, laughing and taking the reward. “I think first place should go to everyone!” To your dismay, Taehyung started breaking off pieces of the trophy and handing it to all the participants.

Okay if you didn’t already think you were dying from blood loss under a tree, you definitely did now. This was some disney channel bullshit! You watched how happy they were, as if this was a resolved ending!

Then night came. Oh how wrong you were. Jungkook invited everyone to the house with you, while offering some sangria. You all had a few sips when the conversation took a turn.

“You think our sisters would be proud of what we’ve become?” Jungkook asked Namjoon as he leaned back.

“If what we’ve become are our better halves the bloodshed would’ve been worth it.” He said with a slur, his eyes shutting as he looked at Jungkook slowly.

What? You were more than confused now.

“We promised not to talk about this,” Yoongi broke the momentary silence. “Shut up, shut up, shut up!” He yelled at all of you. “I’m sorry.” He apologized after calming down. You had a feeling something wasn’t right. Why there are only seven humans here and not 15….why Jungkook cried while holding you and saying someone else’s name. You had a gut feeling it didn’t have anything to do with fruity metaphors.

“I know something that can cheer you up.” Jimin said with a cheeky smile. The look on his face and how he looked at you was enough for you to pick up what he was putting down.

“Yeah, and she’s sitting right next to you!” Jin said, lurching forward and pressing a wet kiss against your lips. You gasped into his mouth. “S-sorry, are you okay with me kissing you?” He asked after breaking the kiss.

“Yeah. I’m fine with it,” The wine from earlier had made you horny already so you didn’t mind. You kissed him back best you could which was pretty sloppy already. Then suddenly, Jin was pulled away from you. “Wha? Why’d you sstop?” You asked with furrowed brows, before blinking and realizing that Jungkook had pulled Jin away from you. Jin looked at Jungkook like he could kill him. To which Jungkook responded by tilting your head back and kissing you.

“Y/N, I’m gonna make you my bitch tonight.”

Wait, where’d he learn how to say that?

You were about to ask, before Jimin grabbed you by the neck and took a taste for himself. He tasted lovely, just like raspberries. His plump juicy lips brushed against your chapped, thinner ones. His lips could compare to the feel of a pillow, as plush and soft as he felt, but wetter. Then you realized something as Jimin’s hand wandered down to your panties. As he kissed the side of your neck and his lips wandered down more, you gasped. He suckled. He left a mark.

How did Jimin know how to leave a hickey?

“My turn…” Namjoon sneered, before kissing you in turn. Your tastebuds felt like they were on air as he kissed you, as he tasted like oranges and lemons. You loved the citrus taste of his lips, which refreshed your own breath. You were panting as he pulled back slowly, he gave you a sultry stare. You felt hypnotized by his gaze, and your body was hot as Jimin slipped your shirt off you unknowingly.

“What’s happening?” You looked at Jungkook for an explanation as he took his shirt off. His skin underneath was flawless, save for a few scars on his body that seemed to have healed from stab wounds, a wide line spread around his torso, almost like someone had dragged it out.

“You figured it out,” He threw his shirt to the floor. “Smart girl.”

“Did you think we were stupid?” Jimin asked as he kissed your ear.

“Of course we know what sex is, you dumb girl.” Jin said, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look up again as he kissed you. Namjoon continued kissing down your jaw, and collarbone.

“You see when we saw you, we knew….we just had to have you.” He said while nipping your collarbone and leaving another mark.

“Ah…you lied…” You sighed, closing your eyes as the men focused more on pleasuring you.

“Not just lied, sweetie, we’ve been deceiving you…so each and every one of us could have a taste of your sweet pussy.” Jungkook’s words turned your insides into mush. You realized it was a great deception after all.

“M-my…huh?” You were confused. “Why me?” They could have chosen literally ANY woman. And chose you.

“Because you’re so cute.” Jimin whispered in your right ear.

“And your body is so sexy.” Jin whispered in your left.

“And we haven’t had a woman in years. It’s been too long.” Namjoon groaned, releasing your skin from the clutches of his teeth.

“It has…?” You wondered about that. Why there were only men in this town.

“Yeah. You see, every time we feel the urge, we turn to each other but…it’s not cutting it anymore. An ass isn’t the same as a pussy and we decided enough is enough. And now….we want yours.” Jimin licked his lips, before kissing you again, his fruity scent mingling with yours. You loved the way he tasted! How they all tasted distinctly like fruits.

“But the car crash…” You looked out the window of Jungkook’s house.

“Forget him.” Jungkook said, standing up.

“What?”

“Forget about your uncle. As of now, he is none of your concern. He tried to hurt you. I saw it. Lavender alerted me and I saw how he was startled and crashed into the tree, but then I saw you, and I knew you were helpless. You were drugged Y/N. Did you know that?”

You didn’t.

“You saved my life.” You said again. “Thank you.”

“No need. I wanted to. We have each other now,” Jungkook placed a hand on your chin. These men loved doing that to you. “Will you have us?”

You took one look at all of them and knew this was better than any alternative you could have imagined. They all wanted you, desired you as a woman. You had never felt this loved in your life. And they were giving it to you.

“Yes.”

Jin lifted you up to the master bedroom, with the six men in tow, right behind you as he opened the door to the room. You were nervous with anticipation as he gently set you down.

“Be mine…” He whispered. You nodded as he began kissing you and removed your tights. You sighed, as he kissed down your face and then pulled back, now Yoongi and Taehyung staring down at you. Red and pink mingled together as the three of you shared a kiss. You groaned, Yoongi tasted like strawberries while Taehyung tasted like blueberries. It tasted like a smoothie in your mouth, as you gasped, groaning while Taehyung smirked and suckled one of your nipples while Yoongi worked on the other. Both men were eager to have you now, while Namjoon and Jin stood behind them, patiently waiting for their turn.

Jimin, Jungkook, and Hoseok were of no concern to you as there was too much to focus on. Taehyung’s blue hair under your fingers, Yoongi’s pink hair buried between your legs as he explored your clitorous, and Taehyung’s face next to yours as you studied him.

He was handsome, with a round face and well defined jaw, he appeared to be ethereally gorgeous. They all were gorgeous, but Taehyung’s beauty felt like something blessed by a god. You could feel a warmth from his smile and his gaze out you at ease. His wide smile and cherry red lips made you feel hot, as you blushed and looked down at Yoongi.

“Oh…he’s doing a good job?” Taehyung teased you as you could merely glance at the man, foaming at the mouth.

Yoongi was beautiful as well, his eyes drooped as if he was tired but naturally very pretty and green as he stared at you. His stare enraptured you, as he reminded you of a cat with how steadily he moved his hands down your left mound, and flicked his tongue over your exposed pink slit. You let out a moan.

“Y-oongi!”

“Mmm?” He whispered, vibrations against your pussy as he answered tiredly.

“That feels good.” You whined.

“Sweet girl, of course it does. He’s eating it well, right?” Taehyung’s comment was so innocent and erotic at the same time as he cupped your breasts at the same time. “Shall I eat your cunt too?”

You gasped, as both men fucked you with their tongues at once, making you remember what Jimin and Jin did for you the day before.

“She tastes so good, I can’t stop.” Yoongi moaned.

“Fuck…I’m hard.” Namjoon groaned, stroking his cock with one hand. You didn’t notice how quickly the others got undressed.

“I must…princess, may I fuck you?” Yoongi asked after pulling away.

“Yes,” You groaned, spreading your legs for him as the dark pink haired man slowly slid into you. You gasped as your pussy wrapped around him snugly and he fit right with you. “Ah!” You let out a ghastly moan.

“Fuck…” Yoongi groaned as the other men watched you get used by him. His cock was making you come undone at the moment, and all they could do was watch.

“Ah…please…gather around me…” You encouraged them as they jerked off around you. Seven cocks, one hole. You gasped as without warning, Hoseok stuffed his in your mouth. You still took it without complaint, as this was expected of you now.

“Ah…Yoongi…” You groaned as he snapped his hips back and forth.

“Yes…” You groaned.

“God, you were just made to take my cock, weren’t you?” You gasped as he made you arch your back. Yoongi was too good at dirty talk. You moaned as some of them came on your face, and your body was covered with white jizz. It was hot, sticky, and smelled good. You bit your lips. The sight was making you even slicker and turned on.

“God, we knew you were a huge slut when you made us fuck those pumpkins but looking at you now, we know you’re a total whore.” Jimin smirked at you, walking forward as he came all over your face. You gawked as he leaned forward and smacked his cock on your cheek, as if you weren’t even a person but rather an object for sexual gratification.

“I am a whore!” You admitted. “A big, dirty whore who loves cock.” You were ready to admit anything so long as you got dicked down. As Yoongi pulled out and left some cum inside you, Taehyung swiftly moved down and had his turn next. He was slightly more gentle with you, grinning as you would moan every time he hit your spot. You noticed he was more focused on giving you pleasure than taking it.

“Ah…that’s a good girl.” He said to you, kissing you softly as you moaned. You groaned into his shoulder as he fucked you deep and hard, but still executing a gentle passion with every movement. And then he pulled out. You groaned, as Jungkook replaced him, and at this point you were far gone.

“Sorry it took so long,” Jungkook pressed a kiss against your forehead as you simply nodded. “Finally.” He sunk into you, moaning as he held you tight. He slowly rutted into you with more passion than the last two, possibly because you connected throughout the past few days.

As time went by, you could only stare into his deep violet eyes, a small breath escaping your chapped lips as you reached out. You were so tired…your eyes heavy lidded as Jungkook came, and you came with him. You needed rest, so you blacked out.

When you came to, the men were whispering around you with worry. They were all concerned about you. It seems they had taken the liberty of wiping you up and giving you a fresh change of clothes. A simple pair of shorts and a blue drop top.

“Sorry for worrying you.” You sat up slowly.

“No, we’re sorry for being too rough with you.” Taehyung shook his head.

“Are you feeling any better?” Namjoon handed you an orange, which you deeply appreciated.

“Yeah. Thanks Namjoon,” You smiled. “I think I’m just tired. Could you guys possibly let me rest a bit before we start again?”

“Of course.” Namjoon nodded.

“Sleep well, princess,” Yoongi kissed you on the forehead. “Thanks for helping me win.” He gave you a small smile which made your heart skip a beat as he walked towards the door and left.

One by one they all left Jungkook’s residence, leaving you alone again. They were all so patient and attentive, it made you worried. You didn’t want to leave but going out and checking on your uncle would have been the right thing to do.

“Y/N…” He hugged you tightly. “I need to tell you somethin…” He gripped your waist tighter. You felt like you couldn’t breathe. “Those damned bugs killed our sisters…killed my lover too. I hope you know that now I have you, I intend on never letting you go.” You were beginning to come to terms with it.

“Okay.” You answered him genuinely. You were fine with it, actually.

“Really?” He asked with widened doe eyes.

“Yeah.” You giggled.

“That makes me so happy, Y/N I could kiss you. But that would just lead to fucking, so I’m gonna hold off,” You nodded, as he let go of you and left you to your own vices.

You woke up to Lavender licking you. She was barking up a storm when Jungkook lifted her off you. “Sorry. She got excited.”

“No problem.” You smiled as he placed her back in her doghouse.

“We’re planning to meet up at Jimin’s house later. Would you like to come?” You nodded immediately, giddy as the raspberry-themed man seemed to have a slightly more kinkier side you appreciated. The thought was enough to make you aroused again, but instead of acting on it you decided to take a breath. You needed to rest.

Of course, at Jimin’s house everyone seemed to get the message as no one approached you wanting to have sex. However they still looked at you. You made chatter with everyone and enjoyed your time there. It seemed all the men were taken with you and everyone wanted a piece of you. You felt great.

“So, Jungkook, when is she gonna move out of your place?” Jin asked softly.

“Never! She’s mine.” Jungkook whispered possessively.

“Kook! Play nice.” Namjoon scolded.

“Sorry Joon. Y/N, do you wanna keep living with me?”

“It just occurred to me, I officially have nowhere to live. I happened to come here because of Jungkook.” You answered.

“It’s only right she stays with him. He brought her here,” Jimin nodded. “You like Jungkook a lot, Y/N?” You smiled sheepishly.

“Of course I do.”

Jungkook and Jimin shared a smile before looking at you. You kept it in mind as you sat down next to Namjoon and snacked on some crackers. After a while, you all started talking about your kinks.

“I don’t know about that one, but try this on for size: when your partner has complete control over you, including when you breathe.” Namjoon laughed.

“Nah, breathplay is child’s play. I’m saying blindfolded bondage is where it’s at.” Taehyung smirked and said in rebuttal.

“I want—hear me out…to be bred. Like stuffed until it’s just cum leaking out of me, y’know?” You explained your kink to the men who were left in shock. All except Yoongi were surprised.

“You’re such a whore, Y/N,” Yoongi smirked. “You want us to start now? Think you can handle it after yesterday?” He looked at you knowing damn well what he was doing.

“M-maybe not yet. I’m exhausted.” You explained.

They left it alone, shifting the topic as Jimin got some more food out for everyone. You and Jungkook stayed behind to help with cleanup. You suddenly felt Jimin’s lips on your shoulders, through your shirt.

“Chim, you should stop. You know I’m tired.”

“Yeah but I don’t wanna. I want you, Y/N.” You sighed at his plea.

“Okay.” You sighed as he picked you up and placed you on the counter. He swiftly removed your shirt and shorts, followed by your bra and underwear.

“Jimin! I got the leftovers in the tray—Oh.” Jungkook’s face fell when he saw him but then a mischievous smile appeared on his lips as he slipped next to him and joined in on torturing you.

You groaned.

“Oh crap, Jimin I left my umbrella—” Namjoon stopped in his tracks and his eyes widened as he saw you naked on Jimin’s countertop. Jungkook smirked at him.

“You wanna tap in?” Jungkook smirked. “Me and Jimin were about to have another taste.”

You gasped as Namjoon and Jimin were both inside you at the same time. Jungkook was watching, as he got more than enough from living with you. You felt them tearing your insides apart, reshaping your holes to fit their cocks. Jimin was entering you from behind, Namjoon in your pussy. Your eyes rolled back as Namjoon moaned and smacked your hips, making you recoil in surprise.

“So fucking tight. Fuck…fuck…” He groaned. “Take my cock…” His words encouraged you as you sighed and continued bouncing back on his cock, your ass smacking against Jimin’s hips every time you would go between them. One would snap his hips while the other pulled back, and it continued in a forbidden pattern. It felt like they were playing a game with you as their pawn.

“Fuck…her asshole is getting stretched out.” Jimin groaned, spitting on your rear end and spreading out his saliva with his fingers. You groaned as you felt your holes stretching out even more with the movements.

“J-Jungkook…I think I can take you too…” You said with uncertainty. You’ve never taken two in one hole before, let alone two in both holes. And now Jungkook was about to join. He sank down, between Namjoon and Jimin.

He slipped in…right into your pussy.

You screamed.

“JUNGKOOK!”

The movements were becoming faster as the three men grunted in unison, their hips synced in a rhythm as they were closer to their climaxes. Your lips fell open, as you panted, while Namjoon’s face contorted into one of pain, which you assumed meant he was in total heaven. Your climax hit as Jungkook fucked up into you, reaching spots Namjoon missed, while Jimin’s cock rubbed against your inner walls in a different way. They split you apart as the decadent sex between the four of you sent your mind into its own Havana while you orgasmed.

Their cocks touched in ways they never would have thought of, as they finished inside of you. When they pulled out, cum was gushing out of your ass and pussy, while all you could do was watch helplessly.

“That’s a good slut.” Jimin smirked mischievously.

“She’s ours now.” Namjoon said, as if he was still in disbelief.

“I hope you liked being bred, baby. Because there’s a lot more where that came from.” Jungkook said, revealing his erection to you.

“Again?” You asked.

“Honey, for you, always,” gave you a small smile. “Now open wide.”

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