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minisugakoobies · 2 months

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Yours for the Night | HHJ

Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader Genre: smut, porn with the barest of plot, frenemies to lovers, Model!AU Rating: M (18+) Warnings: so. much. cockiness from Hyunjin, arguing as a form of foreplay, a bit of dumbification, what's a little fucking between frenemies?, dick pics, exhibitionism, nipple play, mentions of slut shaming, grinding, fingerfucking, pinching, just a tiny bit of spit, unexpected use of pet names, oral sex (f receiving), wet and messy, biting, dirty talk, maybe a little degradation (talking about reader being cock stupid), unprotected sex (bc used), riding/cowgirl style, praise/use of "good girl," soft dom!hyunjin vibes, rough/hard sex, multiple positions, creampie, multiple orgasms Word Count: 8.8k Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own SKZ - they just inspire me Summary: “Let me lay it out for you, so there’s no misunderstanding. If you can stop pretending for five seconds that you don’t want me the way I want you, you can have me tonight.” Or, Hyunjin makes you an offer you simply can't refuse.

A/N: I finished this earlier than expected, thanks to the inspiration that is Hyunjin at Milan Fashion Week. Have you seen him?? 🥵 Anyway, it's all because of his stunning beauty that this filthy lil pwp exists. Enjoy! 😘

Unbeta'd as usual. I would *love* to hear your thoughts - my inbox is always open (anon is on, but hateful comments will be blocked. Be kind, writers do this for free and with love!) 💕

SKZ Masterlist

It’s Friday night, you’re out for drinks with your friends, and you are frustrated.

It’s not the club that’s bothering you. You’re here tonight at Felix’s request. He’d told you all it had been too long since you’d gone out as a group, so all nine of you and your friends crammed yourselves into a couple of rides and headed for downtown.

Nor is it the incredibly tight, short, and backless dress you’ve poured yourself into that’s annoying you, though it’s certainly not helping. Your fingers anxiously grasp at the hem, tugging it down your thighs as you take a seat at the table where Felix and Seungmin are currently talking.

No, it’s something personal that has you wound tighter than a corset tonight. Work has been kicking your ass lately, and it’s put a huge damper on your sex life. You haven’t been out with anyone new in the last few months. Haven’t had any time to reach out to any of your small group of casual hookups who would typically lend a hand. Most nights you’ve even been too tired to masturbate.

Put simply, you’re ready to fucking pop.

Which is why you’re wearing this bodybinding dress and staring at the dance floor like a wildcat stalking its prey, searching to find someone to help you with your problem. Unfortunately, you’ve been here for hours, and no one’s caught your eye so far.

Your clutch rattles on the table, drawing your attention. Everyone who would usually text you is here, so out of curiosity, you take out your phone. The notification tells you that Hyunjin sent you a photo.

You glance across the room at where Hyunjin is sitting in a booth with Changbin, deep in conversation. Why would he send you a photo right now?

Your confusion only grows when you look at the photo. It’s a selfie, Hyunjin raising his champagne glass in a toast to the camera, perfectly tousled dark hair spilling over his brow as he fixes you with his signature smirk. It’s a gorgeous shot, of course, because he’s a gorgeous man, but again, why is he sending you selfies in the middle of tonight’s celebration? Or at all? Hyunjin’s never been the type to send you photos before, of himself or the group or anything.

He’s never really been the type to text you, period, outside of the group chat. Probably because the two of you aren’t really friends. Frenemies would be more accurate. You share the same group of friends, but have nothing else in common. Which is fine, you don’t have to be close to hang out, but he’s… well… he’s an acquired taste, and you’ve never developed an appreciation. Hyunjin’s snooty and cocky - overly so, in your opinion, even if he is the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. Most of your conversations consist of nothing but arguing. He’s very stubborn and loves to get the last word in on everything. Which drives you crazy because you prefer to have the final say.

So to say this sudden selfie has you perplexed is an understatement.

Ignoring whatever Felix and Seungmin are talking about, you fire off a question.

You: What is this? Hyunjin: Are you that drunk? It’s me

Reflexively, you scowl at your screen.

You: I know it’s you You: But WHY are you sending me a photo of yourself? Hyunjin: You’ve been staring at me all night Hyunjin: I thought maybe you’d like something to take home, to keep

Again, you look over, only to find him looking at you, lips curled to match his photo. Heat flames through you. Could he be more conceited?

Maybe the vanity isn’t totally unearned, considering that he’s an actual model, making a living using his ethereal beauty to sell products. His own lifestyle is just as luxurious as the images he appears in. Like right now, he’s wearing the finest black suit, obviously couture, with a few silver necklaces draped over his tie that you’ve no doubt cost more than your entire outfit alone.

And sure, he has a jawline carved by the gods, thick eyebrows that frame expressive, cat-like eyes, and ridiculously pouty lips that you’ve found yourself staring at once… an hour on average. Maybe in your weakest moments you’ve even dreamt about what it would be like to kiss those lips.

But does that mean he has to be a dick all the time?

You: You’re such an ass Hyunjin: Deny it all you want, but we both know you can’t keep your eyes off me Hyunjin: Not that I blame you You: It’s amazing your head still fits through doors Hyunjin: You’d be the first to notice if it didn’t

Your nostrils flare. No matter what you say, he always flips it back on you. Admittedly, you are a little tipsy, so you’re not fully on your game, but it’s still annoying as fuck. And right now, you really don’t need another reason to be frustrated.

You: Whatever, Hyunjinnie

You cast another glance at Hyunjin, delighting in the way he frowns at your response. He hates it when you call him that.

You take a moment to locate the rest of your friends. Changbin’s still sitting with Hyunjin. Jeongin and Chan are doing shots at the bar. Minho and Jisung are in their own little world on the dance floor, arms draped around one another. Neither Felix nor Seungmin seemed to have noticed that you have dropped out of their discussion. Part of you feels guilty for ignoring them, but, well, you’re a little fired up now, and the only thing that would make you feel better would be getting the last word in with Hyunjin for once.

You take a sip of your cocktail, floating the cold liquid on your tongue as you devise your next line of attack, when your phone buzzes again.

Hyunjin: I have another photo for you You: Why? Hyunjin: Because I think you’d like it You: Oh really? Like you know what I like Hyunjin: Always so argumentative Hyunjin: You’re pretty easy to figure out Hyunjin: The staring makes it incredibly obvious

Such an ass.

You: Fuck off Hyunjin: I will not You: What’s your game, man? Hyunjin: No game Hyunjin: Can’t I just do something nice for you?

The man is a riddle. An enigma draped in Versace.

You type out “I guess there’s a first time for everything” and press send, putting your phone down long enough to watch him get the text. Hyunjin laughs to himself, smiling down at his screen, and there’s this weird feeling of satisfaction in your stomach at the sight. Whatever, you like making people laugh, even assholes like him. So what.

You tell yourself that you’re not going to wait at his beck and call, jumping to read his texts as they come in, if in fact he keeps sending them, but then your phone vibrates again and you snap it up immediately, because you’re a liar.

Hyunjin: Just trust me Hyunjin: You want this Hyunjin: But I want something first You: Oh here we go You: There’s the catch A hand waves over your phone. “Hi, hello, are we boring you?”

Quickly, you turn it over before Seungmin can see your text thread. “No, sorry, I was just, uh - “

“Hey, leave her be,” your savior Felix says, pushing Seungmin lightly. “She’s had a rough couple of weeks. She shouldn’t have to suffer through your boring work stories, too.”

“Hey!”

Seungmin and Felix dissolve into arguing as you covertly flip your phone back over.

Hyunjin: I’m not asking much Hyunjin: Just a photo of you. A photo for a photo

He can’t be serious.

You: I’m not sending you a nude Hyunjin: Did I say nude? No, I did not Hyunjin: A normal selfie, that’s all

Again your suspicion rises. What is he playing at? Where is this going?

You: But WHY? Hyunjin: Maybe I can’t stop staring, either

Your breath catches in your throat. When you look up, he’s gazing at you again, but his expression is less smug than usual and more… ravenous.

You turn away so fast, your neck cracks.

Hyunjin: So? Send me a pic.

There’s no reason for you to agree to this. Absolutely no reason at all. Beyond, of course, your burning curiosity.

It’s really going to get you in trouble one day.

Grabbing your clutch, you slip off your chair. “Ladies room,” you announce, glancing at Felix and Seungmin, who aren’t listening anyway, still squabbling. You wander just far enough out of sight of your friends, find a spot with good lighting back near the bar (because even if it’s just for Hyunjin, your vanity will not let you take an unflattering photo), and snap a quick picture, firing it off right away.

As you’re sliding back into your seat, your phone vibrates. Hyunjin sent another photo.

You swallow reflexively. Holy shit. It’s a shot of his crotch, dress pants straining to contain what is clearly a massive cock, gripped through the fabric by long fingers.

Hwang Hyunjin sent you a dick pic.

So it’s not big dick energy, it’s just big dick, is the first coherent thought you have once the screeching inside your head stops. It occurs to you that you’ve been gawking unblinkingly at your phone for at least several minutes, so you raise your head to make sure your friends aren’t watching you, and thankfully they’re not. Really, you should know better than to underestimate just how much Felix and Seungmin love to bicker.

But what are you supposed to say to Hyunjin now? Your thumbs hover, waiting for inspiration, but you’re stuck.

Hyunjin: Wow, are you speechless? Hyunjin: Guess there really is a first time for everything

Even without looking, you know he’s smirking at you from across the room. Suddenly, you need another drink, so you mumble “bar” in Felix’s direction and stumble away. As the bartender mixes you another cocktail, you grip your phone tightly, waging an inner war with yourself.

You should look at the photo again. You shouldn’t look at the photo again. You should delete it, and Hyunjin’s number, and maybe throw the phone in the nearest trash bin too, just for extra comfort. But holy fuck, do you want to look at the photo again!

What you really don’t want is to think about the effect that photo has had on your pussy, because it’s humiliating how much she’s throbbing right now.

“I’ll take one of those as well, thanks.” A hand waves towards the bartender, and your treacherous brain immediately recognizes those fingers as the fingers from Hyunjin’s photo, and starts picturing what those lithe digits would look like wrapped around your throat. Great. Now your brain has joined your pussy. Traitors.

You say nothing as Hyunjin takes the seat next to you. Partly because you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s gotten under your skin again, albeit in a very different way, but also partly because you’re still not sure what to say.

“You know,” Hyunjin bends towards you, close enough for his warm breath to tickle your ear, “if I’d known that all it would take to get you to stop arguing with me was showing you my cock, I would’ve introduced you much sooner.”

“God, you are just - just the worst,” you snarl, teeth clenched hard enough to give you a headache.

“Now really, is that any way to speak to someone who just gave you a gift?” Hyunjin sips his drink calmly.

Well, there’s the Hyunjin you recognize. What you don’t understand is how he’s still making your cunt drip with need. All you can think about right now is what he’s hiding under those suit pants. Are you really this dumbstruck by cock?

(Yes. Yes, you are.)

“Me and every other woman in this club, I bet. You probably air dropped it to the whole room.” You wouldn’t put it past him. Maybe that was his plan the whole time - work you up then leave you begging while he hooked up with someone else. As if you’d beg.

“Oh no, that was just for you.”

“Uh-huh, sure.”

With a roll of his eyes, Hyunjin clicks his tongue. “Come on. You know how selective I am when it comes to my clothes or my liquor. Why would I be any less selective about who I fuck?”

“Who you fuck?” Whoa, who said anything about fucking? Besides your duplicitous brain and pussy. “Who - who said - that’s not - I mean -” You’ve suddenly become the Big Bad Wolf, huffing and puffing, unable to form a complete sentence.

Hyunjin rises, leaning over you as you gaze up at him from your barstool. He places his hands on the bar, one arm on either side of you, bracketing you in, wild eyes trailing down your figure slowly before he smiles, hungry and sharp, and you realize, no, here’s the wolf.

“Listen, there’s no reason we can’t fuck. Friends fuck all the time.” His hand glides over your shoulder, light as a feather, and you watch dazedly as goosebumps ripple along your skin. His touch is electric.

“Is that what we are? Friends?”

Hyunjin shrugs, lips twisted in a droll smile. “Close enough. This doesn’t have to be complicated. You said it yourself - you’re in need.”

“What? When did - I never said that!” Again you struggle to speak coherently, sputtering in your confusion.

Hyunjin frowns. “Ah, you’re right, I misspoke. That was Felix who said that, wasn’t it? On the ride here?”

You curse inwardly, remembering the private discussion you and Felix had had on the way to the club, when you were discussing your dry spell. Or at least, it was supposed to be private, but obviously someone had been listening in. Felix had offered to play wingman for you, saying he wouldn’t let anything keep him from helping you “in your time of need” - a bit dramatic, but that was Felix for you.

You’d waved him off, insisting that you could snag someone without any help. But here you are, drowning your sorrows at the bar with no possibilities in sight. Maybe you should’ve accepted Felix’s help after all.

“That’s not…” Sighing, you shrug. There was no point in trying to deny what he’d heard. “Fine, yeah, I came here tonight hoping to leave with someone, but I didn’t mean you!”

“That’s because you didn’t know I was an option.” Again his gaze travels down your body, lingering like a slow caress. “But after seeing the way you look tonight, I had to offer myself up.”

Always. So. Cocky. You want to deny that his words have an effect on you. Want to. But can’t.

And like that, your resolve starts to slip.

“You really want to help me out?” you ask. He nods, irises blown as his eyes flicker to yours, and it puts fire in your belly, has you biting your lip in contemplation. “What makes you think you have what I need?”

Hyunjin doesn’t bother to check if any of your friends are watching as he steps closer, like he doesn’t care if anyone sees the way he cups your cheek. Or how he slides his thumb over your lips, dragging the bottom one down before lowering his mouth towards yours. He hangs there, just for a second - just long enough for you to tip your face up in a wordless answer.

His touch has nothing on his kiss. Your whole body thrums from head to toe, fizzing like the champagne on your tongue earlier, sweet and effervescent. His hand falls to your hip, squeezes there suddenly, and you feel a rush of heat between your thighs.

Hyunjin’s plush lips part, letting the tip of his tongue briefly nudge against yours before he pulls away, leaving you blinking dumbly. He lets out a low chuckle, gently wiping a drop of spit from your chin.

“I just know.”

You’re too busy licking the inside of your lips, hunting for any lingering trace of him, to respond.

“Let me lay it out for you, so there’s no misunderstanding. If you can stop pretending for five seconds that you don’t want me the way I want you, you can have me tonight.” His eyes dip to your mouth and back, and you find yourself holding your breath, waiting for him to make a move again. Needing him to. “Just think about it.”

And then he walks away, leaving you nearly toppling off your seat, floundering in his wake.

The ice cubes in your cocktail have all but melted by the time you remember you ordered another drink. Sipping it slowly, you replay the last several minutes in your head. Did all of that just happen? Did Hyunjin really just offer himself to you? And then kiss you like that?

You feel like you’re going out of your mind.

“Just think about it.”

Hyunjin’s last words echo in your head as you wander on wobbly legs back towards the table where Felix and Seungmin are still standing.

And oh, god, do you think about it.

For the rest of the night, no matter how many conversations you have with your other friends, no matter how hard you dance, no matter what you do - the sole thought occupying your brain is what it would be like to fuck Hyunjin. Again and again, you picture him above you, beneath you, behind you, big cock stretching you out, making you scream his name.

But it’s not worth it to give in to him. It can’t be. Good dick - if it’s good - can’t be enough to undo all the annoying shit he does, can it?

You cut yourself off early in the night, explaining that someone needs to stay sober enough to call for rides, but really you’re afraid that if you get completely blitzed, you’ll end up admitting something you don’t want to admit and going home with Hyunjin. Your friends honor your noble sacrifice by achieving impressive levels of drunk, ranging from delightful (Felix repeatedly booping you on the nose, calling you his “widdle buddy”) to disastrous (Chan, who gets upset when the guy he hits on in the bathroom doesn’t respond - turns out he was hitting on his own reflection - before falling asleep in a stall).

Since the club is in the middle of downtown, you arrange for two cars to pick you and your friends up - one heading east, one heading west. Changbin, Chan, Hyunjin, and you pile into the ride heading west. Changbin hops into the passenger’s seat before you can slip in, leaving you smushed in the back between Hyunjin and Chan’s gigantic thighs.

Said thighs are splayed a bit as Chan’s head lolls back, a loud snore erupting out of him as the car makes its first stop outside Changbin’s apartment.

“Can’t take him anywhere,” Changbin grunts, snapping a rather unflattering photo of Chan sleeping with his mouth wide open, obviously saving it to drop in the group chat at the most opportune time. “Can you two make sure he gets home okay? I know it’s a bit out of the way, but, well, look at him.”

Chan continues to rumble like a fighter jet, unaware of everything going on around him.

“Yeah, don’t worry, we got him,” Hyunjin replies, and you just nod. “Night, ‘Bin.”

Changbin gives the driver Chan’s address and then he ducks out of the cab. Your place is technically the next closest, but getting Chan back to his place safe and sound is the priority.

With Chan sleeping next to you, it’s basically just you and Hyunjin alone now. A fact that has also occurred to Hyunjin, whose hand has been drifting further and further around your waist the entire ride. Now it slides around openly, tucking you against his side. You could fight it if you so desired - he’s not holding you tightly. He’s giving you the chance to escape.

You’re not sure you want to.

“Have you thought about it?” he murmurs, nose against your ear.

Your body reacts to the tone of his voice, thighs rubbing together, as you nod.

“And what did you decide?”

“I - I don’t know.”

A puff of air tickles your skin as he laughs derisively. “Do you really need some convincing?”

Chan snuffles loudly, reminding you that there’s another person right next to you, since your entire focus is on Hyunjin, and the way his hand is now creeping beneath the open back of your dress, and slowly moving up your rib cage.

When he cups your left breast, you stifle a gasp. But you can’t stop the tiny “ah!” that escapes when he gently pinches your nipple. You attempt to cover it with a cough, hoping the driver’s lack of visible response means he didn’t hear you. Meanwhile, next to you, Chan doesn’t stir.

“Feel good?” Hyunjin coos quietly. “Must’ve felt good, given the way you’re squirming right now.”

Your hips have started to rock of their own volition. Brain, hips, pussy, all on your shit list.

“But just think how much better it’ll feel when it’s my mouth.” His tongue flicks the shell of your ear before he sucks your earlobe into his warm mouth. A preview of what’s to come. It makes you squirm even harder, dying for any sort of relief for the aching between your legs.

Remarkably, you manage to speak, hissing, “You’re a demon.”

Hyunjin laughs. “You’ve no idea.”

His hand stays where it is until the car pulls up at the curb outside Chan’s house. It takes a minute for the two of you to wake Chan, then another minute for him to realize where he is, then yet another minute for him to slide out of the car. Hyunjin sighs and also climbs out of the cab to make sure Chan gets into his house safely.

When Hyunjin returns, the driver glances in the rearview mirror. “So, one more stop, or two?”

You blink at the question. The air in the cab feels heavy with implication. Hyunjin says nothing, but looks at you expectantly, and you understand - the choice is yours.

You glance at your hands, as if they’ll help you choose. Your watch informs you that it’s 2:12 in the morning. Don’t they always say not to trust any decisions you make after two am?

When the driver clears his throat a little too loudly, Hyunjin’s fingers grip your chin.

“Well? You heard him - one stop or two?”

You meet his gaze, surprised to find a fire burning in his eyes.

Maybe you’d be a fool to run towards it, seeking warmth where there might only be danger.

Fine, then. You’re a fool.

“One.”

With a satisfied grin, Hyunjin gives the driver his address.

You’re a little tense during the elevator ride up to Hyunjin’s apartment. Hyunjin, on the other hand, looks completely relaxed, quietly leaning against the wall with his normal blasé expression on his face. Like you’re not about to cross a boundary here that you never expected to cross. Like this was inevitable.

As soon as you’re both inside and his door is locked, he turns to face you, and you suck in a deep breath, waiting impatiently for him to touch you again.

Instead, he asks, “Do you want some water?”

“Um, yeah, sure.”

He must read confusion on your face - at least, you hope it looks like confusion and not disappointment - because the corner of his mouth lifts in a small smile.

“A few questions first,” he says, walking into his kitchen, sliding his suit jacket off as he goes. “Are you in good health?”

“Am I - am I in good health?”

Hyunjin tuts. “I’d ask if you need me to repeat myself but clearly you heard the question.”

You stare at his back, brows furrowing as you decipher his meaning. “Are you asking if I’ve been tested recently? Yes, I have been. Nothing to report.”

“Good, me too,” he replies, yanking his tie off and tossing it onto the counter before opening the fridge and grabbing you both a bottle of water. He eyes you as he opens his. “Are you on birth control?”

“Is this what you’re like on a date? Does your foreplay always involve interrogating your partner with clinical questions?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He tilts his head back as he drinks, so he doesn’t catch the glare you shoot his way. “Answer the question.”

“Yes, dick, I’m on birth control.” You take a swig of your water. The memory of his touch in the taxi is fading more and more with every second that passes. With a clearer head, you’re starting to question if you’ve made the right choice.

“Good,” he repeats, wiping his mouth. “I prefer to fuck raw.”

You clench around nothing at the thought, but scowl anyway. “What about what I prefer?”

Hyunjin just hums, fingers brushing your cheek before they tap under your chin. “Do you want me to use a condom?” There’s no drollness or sarcasm to his tone. He’s genuinely asking.

“No.” Your pride takes a tiny hit at the way you answer him immediately, without hesitation.

Just as quickly as his gentle tone came, it disappears again, vanishing as Hyunjin flashes a smug smile. “That’s what I thought.”

“That’s what - oh fuck off.” There he is again, that cocky asshole. Reflexively, you curse at him, ready to fight. “Fuck you, you don’t know anything about me.”

“How many times do I need to tell you that I do? You’re so easy to read.”

“Really?” Okay then. You’ll call his bluff. “Go ahead, Hyunjinnie. Tell me what I like.”

He rolls his eyes. His fingers make quick work of his cufflinks, setting them on the granite top beside him, and he slides his sleeves up, revealing toned forearms beneath.

“Well, for starters, you love getting under my skin with that infantile nickname.”

“No shit. Everyone knows that.”

“You live for arguing, especially with me. Can’t let a single sentence go by without snapping back.”

“Maybe that’s because you’re always wrong.”

Hyunjin doesn’t take the bait, merely leans back against the counter, examining you so openly that you feel exposed, so you cross your arms, as if that will help you block his penetrating gaze. He takes a few seconds before speaking again.

“No, it’s not that. Though I’m sure that’s what you tell yourself. If it were, you wouldn’t be here right now.”

He speaks so calmly, so self-assuredly. It’s maddening, even though you’re burning with curiosity. Makes you want to know more, so you press him again. “Okay, then - what is it? Why am I here?”

“Because you wanted someone to take control.” He spreads his arms wide. “And here I am.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You know. You want someone else to be in charge. Make the decisions. Do the work for you. Then fuck you so hard that all those thoughts just fly right out of that pretty little head of yours.” He says it all so matter-of-factly, like it’s completely evident, your deepest desires laid bare for all to witness.

You want to dismiss his words, act like he’s so far off the mark that he’s on another planet, but you’re too surprised by his answer to respond with anything other than stunned silence. His arrogant smile returns. Clearly he was expecting you to fight, so your lack of a snappy comeback only confirms to him that he’s right.

“Just look at what you’re wearing,” he continues. “That tight dress screams ‘please fuck me stupid!’ Lucky for you, that’s exactly what I intend to do.”

You find your voice. “Oh, now you’re judging my clothing? And - and slut shaming me?”

“Please. I’m always judging your clothing. But it’s a taste thing, not some sort of moral judgment.” He smirks. “And I’m very supportive of sluts, thank you.”

As he sips his water, you replay the entire evening in your mind. Sending you the photos. Kissing you. Making the offer. Fuck. He really did do the work for you tonight. Was there ever a chance you were going to say no? Judging by Hyunjin’s attitude, this moment was never in doubt. He knew you’d end up here with him.

The other realization that dawns on you is - you’re not mad about any of that. The only thing you’re mad about is that, once again, he’s right about something. And he knows it.

Okay. Fine. You want to be fucked stupid. But does he have to be so fucking rude about it??

“Maybe this was a bad idea.”

He suddenly steps towards you. His expression is so intense that you move without thinking, backing all the way into the fridge. Your heart feels like it might burst through your ribcage at the slightest provocation, breath leaving your lungs in tiny exhalations as his thumb ghosts your cheek.

Not because you’re scared. Because you’re excited.

“Tell me you don’t want to kiss me.”

Hyunjin says the words softly, but there’s a firmness to his gaze that makes you swallow hard.

Your lips don’t move.

He kisses you. Wraps his hands around your waist, pulls you to his demanding mouth, head turning this way and that as his lips crash onto yours.

You kiss him back. Just as greedily, just as deeply.

His hand strokes your thigh. “Tell me you don’t want me to touch you.”

You make no noise.

His fingers crawl beneath your skirt, dancing over the silk of your underwear. Your gasp warms his tongue. A throaty growl chokes him.

“So wet for me.” He brings his hand up to show you the evidence, skin glistening. As if you didn’t already know.

He surges forward, pinning you to the fridge, mouth blazing a trail from your ear to your neck as his fingers press into your soaking slit.

“Ah, Hyunjin!” you whimper, clutching wildly at his bicep. The swell of his arm bulges as his fingers slowly search your inner walls, like they’re mapping every inch of you. When they trace over your g-spot, they linger, brushing again and again. “Oh my god!”

“Tell me,” he implores, husky voice breaking, like he’s barely in control, “tell me to stop and I will. Tell me you don’t want this - don’t want me - and I’ll call you a ride and we’ll never talk about this again.”

His forehead bumps yours, eyes smoldering with bright intensity, hand still plunging.

This time, you speak, chest heaving as you gasp for air.

“Don’t - don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

A smile spreads across Hyunjin’s face. He pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around your waist, the other hand still working between your thighs. You moan, feeling his erection digging into your hip as he presses himself against you, holding you firmly in place while he adds a third finger to the two already fucking you open.

“Say it,” he commands, mouth wet and hot on your cheek. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want, oh, fuck, I, I want you to fuck me, Hyunjin.”

In an instant, he’s disentangled himself from you, and you can’t help but whine very loudly at the sudden loss of his fingers. Hyunjin just smirks at your naked desperation, spinning you around so you’re in front of him.

“Come on,” he says, lightly pinching your ass to make you move. You yelp, smacking him on the arm, but he just laughs. “I’m not fucking you in here. Let’s go.”

“Asshole,” you curse, but you go anyway, because all you want is for him to touch you again, and if he’s refusing to do it in here, then why would you want to stay? You’re going wherever his hands go.

Maybe you should feel ashamed, for giving in so easily. But you don’t. All you feel is desire. This is what you want. What you need.

Hyunjin’s fingers press lightly on the small of your back as he guides you down the hallway to his bedroom. It’s just as ostentatious as the rest of his place - expensive-looking light fixtures hanging from the ceiling, dark leather headboard and frame for his gigantic bed, which is covered in piles of plush-looking blankets and pillows. There’s a gorgeous painting taking up most of the wall above his bed.

He doesn’t give you much time to admire the room, because as soon as you’re in front of the bed, he spins you again, hands reaching for the zipper of your dress, sliding it to the ground, leaving you standing there in nothing but your panties. Before you can tell him to stop pushing you around, he’s kissing you fervently, like he’s been dying the entire time his mouth has been away from yours these last few minutes, and suddenly you forget that you’re irritated.

Hyunjin backs you onto the bed, breaking away from your lips long enough to urge you to move towards the headboard, unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it to the side as he follows. When his fingers grab for his belt, they find yours already there, making short work of the buckle. He groans in delight, deciding to use his hands to grope your bare breasts while you unzip his pants.

“Can’t wait to see it in real life, huh?” he asks, dragging his thumbs over your nipples. He chuckles when you just whimper, back arching slightly to encourage him to keep touching you.

The truth is, yes, you can’t wait to see Hyunjin’s massive dick, but more importantly, you can’t wait to feel it inside you, so you continue with your task, pushing his pants and boxers down together. And god, what a cock it is, long and thick and positively darkened with need. Smeared drops of excitement coat the head, and the sight makes your mouth water.

He rises up to kneel between your legs, grabbing his cock with one hand and giving it a few lazy pumps. “Well? Don’t tell me you’re speechless again.”

“Goddamn it,” you huff in exasperation, “you’re the fucking worst.” But you can’t stop staring as he gently squeezes the head, making a pleased noise, relieving himself a little while he watches you writhe in impatience.

“You’ll be singing a different tune in a moment, sweetheart.”

Your nose wrinkles at how easily ‘sweetheart’ drips off his tongue. “Just put it in me already,” you demand, leaning back on your elbows, licking your lips as you peer up at him, trying to send a blatant “fuck me!” signal with every inch of your body.

Hyunjin tuts, lifting one of his gorgeously thick eyebrows. “Right to it? Is that what you really want?” In one swift motion, he hooks a finger under your panties and drags them down and off. It’d be a more impressive move if anyone but him were doing it.

“I just… I thought we were gonna fuck?” Isn’t that what you’re here for?

“Of course we are. But is that how you typically do it? No foreplay, no build up?” His fingers rake down your stomach, trail over your thighs, causing your body to twitch with shivers. “That doesn’t sound like any fun at all.”

It’s not how you’d prefer to do this, no. You’re just surprised that he agrees. So you say nothing in reply, visibly closing your mouth while he maneuvers you into position, pushing your legs up so your knees bend, your thighs meeting your stomach, completely exposing your cunt to him.

“That’s better. Just let me play with you a little first, sweetheart. I promise you’ll like it.”

Your instinct is to argue with him, tell him he has no idea what you’d like, but you’ve already done that tonight. And you were wrong. So again, you bite your tongue.

Until he extends his own, letting a string of spit fall onto your pussy.

“Ew, Hyunjin!” You’re disgusted, but not with him. Why do you find that so hot?

“Too much?” he inquires, letting go of your legs as he glances at you. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen a real expression of concern on his face before. It rattles you slightly.

Biting your lip, you shake your head. “No - keep going.”

He nods, hands reaching for your thighs again. “If I hit any hard no’s for you, say something, and I promise I’ll stop, okay?”

“I will.”

He bows over you again, licking a straight line up your slit. With a moan, you let your head drop back against the pillows. His mouth feels absolutely divine.

Where others in the past just dove in, Hyunjin takes his time. He drags his tongue around slowly, licking through your soaking folds, tasting you. It reminds you of the way you’d seen him drink a really fine whisky, holding it in his mouth, quietly identifying every note, every flavor. Relishing, instead of rushing.

When his lips brush over your clit, leaving teasing kisses, you moan. Hyunjin hums, a self-satisfied little rumble, and lifts his head. “See? Told you you’d like this.”

“Please, shut up and suck my clit.” It’s meant to be an order but definitely sounds like a pathetic whine. Whatever, as long as he listens.

He listens. Those plush lips that you can’t stop yourself from staring at roll over your already throbbing little nub and warm pleasure runs down your spine before pooling in your belly. His dark hair keeps falling in his face, obscuring him from your view, and for some reason you can’t have that. Tentatively, you reach out, hand shaking a little.

Hyunjin hums when your fingers slide through his soft locks, pushing the strands back, holding them in place so you can see his eyes, the way they squeeze shut when he sucks noisily on your clit. The sounds he makes are so loud, completely uninhibited, moaning and grunting as his lips smack and his tongue laps.

He uses said tongue to fuck you expertly, his movements so confident, so sure. He reads every quiver, listens to every moan, figures out how to work you up with quick, teasing shallow plunges, before slowing it down, going deeper, tongue brushing your walls like he’s speaking a language only your body understands.

“Hyunjin,” you sigh, unable to tear your eyes away from him.

His mouth parts from you long enough for him to speak. “There it is. There’s the tone I was looking for. Enjoy this, sweetheart. I know I am.”

You’re enjoying it so much that you unexpectedly whimper when he stops again a moment later, feeling a little embarrassed as he exhales a quiet laugh into your warmth. “Just hold on,” he murmurs, dragging his tongue up your slit to pass over your clit again and again, before sliding a finger into your clenching hole.

“Ohhhh.”

The combination is so good, his finger filling you while his mouth suctions to you, that your eyes flutter shut. He pulls out and glides back in, all the way to his knuckles in one smooth motion, your wet folds parting so easily for him. He’s done an amazing job of spreading your slickness around, coating your inner thighs, messing his bed beneath you.

“Gonna make you come,” Hyunjin says, spreading you open with two fingers now. “Need you to come before I can fuck you just like you want. Can you do that for me?”

The tension in your gut tells you that that shouldn’t be a problem. Both fingers have curled inside you, stroking over your soft spot, making you pant, clutching Hyunjin’s satin sheets for dear life.

“Hy-Hyun-”

Before you can even finish saying his name, the tension snaps, nerves firing from your cunt to your toes, causing your legs to lock up. Hyunjin groans, moving his hands to grasp at your thighs, trying to loosen their squeeze.

“Easy, sweetheart, don’t take me out just yet.” When your body finally starts to relax, he grins. “There we go. Good girl.”

If this were any other time, you’d snap at him for dropping that pet phrase on you. But you’re too blissed out at the moment, practically purring as he starts to kiss his way up your torso.

When he reaches your breasts, he joins you, a low rumble sounding from the back of his throat. His nose nuzzles between them, as he leaves loud kisses on their swelling curves.

Another thing Hyunjin isn’t wrong about - his mouth feels much better than his fingers do on your nipples, tongue gliding like warm velvet against the pert nubs. You continuously moan, until you’re nearly panting, fingers once again finding his dark locks and threading themselves between.

“How am I doing, sweetheart?” he murmurs.

“Good.” It doesn’t even occur to you to tell him anything but the truth. “So good, Hyunjinnie. Ah!” You flinch as he suddenly nips the other nipple, teeth clamping gently. “Why?!”

“You and that damn nickname. I must not be doing enough if you’re still calling me that.” He rises onto his knees, shaking his head. “Guess I just gotta fuck it out of you.”

And just like that, you feel that spark again.

“Sure you will, Hyunjinnie,” you simper, voice dripping with honey, so sickeningly-sweet as you coo his name. It has the desired effect, making Hyunjin’s eyes flash.

He reaches for you, pulling you up into his lap, before you can so much as breathe. “You doubting me, sweetheart?” His hands press into your hips, urging you down on him. Both of you groan as his cock slides along your cunt, and the sparks inside you ignite.

“I’m not your sweetheart,” you spit back, feeling that familiar sense of agitation, but it’s not annoyance now, it’s anticipation.

“And I’m not really yours, but let’s play pretend for the night,” he drawls, and you look at him with wide eyes, but he kisses away the wonder on your face, working you up with teeth and tongue, until you’re frenzied with need. Your fingers clutch at his biceps, nails sinking in to tether him closer.

His hands on your waist guide you down again. As his cockhead breaches your lips, you keen, head falling forward onto his shoulder.

“Holy fuck,” you gasp. The stretch is delicious, cunt already throbbing around his thickness.

Both of you freeze when you’re fully seated on him, no sounds in the room but the rhythmic cadence of your panting intertwining with his.

“You know,” Hyunjin speaks through grit teeth, focused on the spot where your bodies join, “we could’ve been doing this a long, long time ago.”

You don’t know what to say to that. How long has he wanted this? You’re not sure the exact answer for yourself, except that it’s longer than you’d ever truly want to confess.

“Maybe - maybe if you weren’t such a - oh, oh, oh!” Your lame attempt at a retort is lost to the rapid snapping of Hyunjin’s hips when he starts to thrust up into you. There’s nothing you can do but bounce in his lap, clinging to his shoulders as he finally fucks you just as hard as he’d promised. “Hyunjin, please!”

Hyunjin grunts, perspiration trickling down his forehead as he concentrates on giving you what you wanted. His jaw flexes, brows drawn together in a frown, and even with this fierce expression on his face, he’s so beautiful that you can’t help yourself, diving forward to kiss that gorgeous mouth of his like you’ve always imagined, as if you weren’t just kissing him a few minutes ago, but like it’s the first time, tracing his lips with yours, imprinting the feeling of them against your own to store away in your memory for later.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” His words are the oxygen you inhale, tongues pressed together like the pages of a book. “I think I prefer you this way. So needy for my cock.” He smirks. “Kinda want to keep you like this.”

He digs his fingers into the plump roundness of your ass as he grinds into you, sliding you back and forth. Your hips undulate, rolling you down on his big cock, feeling every inch of him rubbing against your walls.

“Hyu-hyu-hyun!”

It’s impossible to get an entire word out, given the pace at which Hyunjin’s strokes are jostling you. Your staccato cries get louder when he switches it up, laying you on your back and shoving a pillow under your hips. His thighs smack into your ass with every plunge of his thick length, and again you can do nothing but try to breathe, drowning in euphoria as you are.

“Yeah, you’re best just like this. Stuffed full of cock, no room for thoughts. Or arguments.”

“F-fuck!” You were trying to say ‘fuck off’ but Hyunjin chose that moment to thumb at your clit, giving the aching nub the friction it so badly needed. Your hips buck up, making Hyunjin groan.

“Just like that, so good for me.”

You whine involuntarily at his praise, hips lifting again, trying to take him deeper. Every stroke of his cock lights you up, your body tingling from head to toe. The strong thrumming in your gut is going to overtake you soon and you’re finally going to get what you’ve been needing for weeks now. And it’s Hyunjin of all people who is going to give it to you.

You’re pulled out of your reverie as Hyunjin suddenly pulls out, falling onto his side next to you.

“What are y- oh!” You gasp as he turns you on your side, facing away from him. One hand lifts�� your leg, sliding it back until your calf loops over his. Then he enters you again, and again, thrusting in deep, powerful movements. “Oh, fuck, goddamn.”

“That’s right,” he growls, arm beneath you bending, hand coming to a rest around your throat. Not squeezing, but holding you in place, back pressed to his front. You’re both covered in sweat, bodies gliding over one another, making it hard for him to keep his pace. So his fingers spread on your chest, locking you in place, giving him leverage to pound into you. “Take it, sweetheart. Take what I give you like a good girl.”

“Ahhh,” you moan, “don’t - don’t call me that.”

“No? You don’t like being praised?” Hyunjin releases his hold on your thigh, running his others fingers around where his cock keeps sliding between your lips. “Your pussy tells me another story. You’re soaking my sheets.”

“Nah - ah - not that, ’s not that.” With this slightly slower rhythm, you’re able to speak, but full sentences still seem hard. “Like praise. Hate - hate good girl.”

“Ohhh, I see.” Hyunjin laughs breathily. “I should’ve known. You’re too proud. Think it makes you look weak if I call you that? Hmm?”

Even in your desperate state, you know he’s not far off from the truth. You don’t want him calling you that, because it feels like giving in to him. Letting him take control completely. Possessing you. His good girl.

The real, honest to god truth is - you can’t let him call you that, because you do want it. And you hate how much you want it.

So you deny it. Or at least, you try to. But all you can stutter is a weak “You’re s-such a d-dick,” as he continues snapping his hips into your ass, making your entire body jiggle in his strong grip.

Hyunjin drops an open-mouthed kiss to your shoulder, wet and sloppy. You curl your fingers into his arm as you sense that you’re approaching the precipice of your orgasm. You can tell that it’s going to be an intense one, one of those climaxes that clears your mind of all thought and leaves you literally shaking in ecstasy. Just as he’d promised.

You do appreciate a man who follows through on his promises.

Hyunjin must feel the way you’re starting to clench around him, groaning into your shoulder. “Ahh, I think this little cunt’s trying to tell me something again, sweetheart. You gonna come for me? Hmmm?” His fingers rub over your clit, the sudden touch making you jolt. “Come on, be a good girl and c-”

Twisting your head, you smash your nose into his cheek, clumsily seeking his mouth. Cutting him off with heated kisses, hoping he’ll interpret it as annoyance fueling your actions and not see it for what it truly is - untamed desire.

A strangled cry passes from Hyunjin’s lips into yours, and with one more tweak to your clit, you come undone. Your body locks up, thighs going rigid, cunt clamping around his cock so fiercely that Hyunjin hisses loudly, forehead resting on the nape of your neck.

“Fuck, you’re so goddamn tight,” he whispers in your ear. Sweat drips from his skin onto yours. “You’re gonna make me come. Is that what you want?”

You can’t answer. You’re gone, completely gone, beyond words, capable of making only the most broken, pathetic sounds, wantonly mewling as slowly grinds into you, cock rubbing against your clenching walls. When your legs start to go slack, he resumes his thrusting, but at a languorous pace, and you’re not sure if he’s trying to go easy on you now that you’re approaching overstimulation, or if he’s trying to slow himself down.

“I think it is what you want. I think you want me to fill this little pussy up with my cum, don’t you? Hmm?” His nose prods at your cheek. “A sweet creampie for my good girl?”

The whine that you let you out is pitifully loud. White hot shame spikes through you, but only for a second, the emotion quickly burnt away by your fervent need.

“Come on, tell me. Tell me you want it.”

“Ahhh!” You gasp as his cock sinks in deeper, hitting your g-spot. It’s almost too much, the delicious drag, and your fingers dig into his arm, nails sinking into his skin. “Fuck!”

“Tell me,” he says again, but this time there’s a plea laced into the command, a desperate edge in his tone that strikes a chord somewhere deep inside you, and suddenly you want to give him anything he needs.

“Hyunjin, I want it, p-please!”

Those are the magic words. Hyunjin groans, his hips falling out of their slow rhythm, jerking erratically as he does exactly what he said, shooting his load deep inside you, moaning your name the entire time. You grip the sheets so hard, you’re afraid you’ll tear them, shoving your hips back against his, riding out his climax with him.

“Pussy’s sucking me dry, sweetheart. So greedy,” he pants, trailing kisses along your neck. “Think it wants more.”

“Hyunjin!” You sob his name again, voice breaking. All it takes is his fingers pinching at your clit and you’re coming again, stomach twitching, breath leaving your body in one big rush.

When your body stops trembling, Hyunjin finally slips out of you, his hand falling away from your cunt. He lets out a tired laugh.

“You can take your nails out of my arm. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Oh.” Your neck burns a little in embarrassment. You hadn’t realized you were still holding on to him so tightly, unconsciously keeping him in place. Keeping him close to you. You relax your grip, and he slides his arms around you further, locking you into his embrace.

It’s… nice, being in Hyunjin’s arms. Really nice. Lying there, in your messy, tired state, you feel rather content.

But the longer you lie there, just breathing together, not speaking, your head starts to fill with thoughts again. Questions. The most pressing being, at what point is he going to kick you out? Because despite everything that just happened, he’s still Hyunjin, and you’re still you, and -

“It’s already started.” Hyunjin hums, lightly shaking you. “I can hear you thinking again.”

Your reflexes kick back in. “It’s just what I do. You should try it some time.”

To your surprise, Hyunjin starts to laugh. You roll over, nose bumping his as you give him a curious look.

“What?”

“You really can’t help yourself, can you?” He brushes a finger over your cheek. “You’ve got a fighter’s instinct. It’s one of the things I admire about you. But maybe, just maybe, you don’t have to fight me all the time?”

You stare at him as you try to make sense of the rather casual confession of admiration he just dropped. Nope. Can’t. Not right now.

“I…” You pause. “Sorry. It’s just a habit.”

He smiles, something genuine that slowly shifts into his familiar smirk, and even as spent as you are, you feel a stirring inside you. “Guess we need to work on that.”

In the morning, you might regret what you say next. But the night’s not over yet. “Maybe you just didn’t fuck me stupid enough yet.”

Hyunjin accepts your challenge with a kiss.

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Taglist: @scoupsjin; @aznstoner; @yourtmblrgirlfriend; @hyunlvrs; @notevenheretbh1; @chrisbangsgalaxy; @dessianna1

#stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids imagines #hyunjin smut #hyunjin x reader #skz imagines #skz x you #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #stray kids x you #fic: yours for the night

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jungkookstatts · 4 months

Text

Cherry Flavored

[Summary]: Your biker boyfriend takes you on a joyride.

[Theme]: Established realtionship!AU, Biker!JK

[Rating]: 18+, explicit content, oral (f receiving), spitting, dom!JK, riding, creampie, spanking

[Word Count]: 5,498

[A/N]: The biker verse has come to me in the new year. So has covid. But biker fantasies heal me. Enjoy! (P.s. thinking of doing a Tae fic soon??)

“Just, hold onto me,” Jungkook smiles. It’s a toothy grin, one that would usually send butterflies of affection straight to your tummy. His lip piercings shine like the metal around his fingers and ears, catching the midnight glow of the street lamps against them.

“There’s no seat belt,” you exhale.

“Of course,” he laughs a little. Brown hairs fall over his forehead with the soft force of his voice. You’re too nervous to move them out of the way like you usually would right now. “It’s a motorcycle, baby. I’m your seat belt.”

You laugh in disbelief.

“Kook, I’m not sure—” you begin, but he stops you. Cold hands cup your cheeks, his nose inches from yours. You can smell cherries on his breath, left over from the cherry flavored lollipop he bought from one of the gum ball machines at the entrance of the diner you just ate at.

“Baby,” he kisses your lips once. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, you know that.”

You exhale against his lips, knowing his words are true. But still, your mind can’t help but evaluate all the “what ifs”.

“I’ll go slow,” he smiles softly. “No games.”

“Promise?” You search his eyes. You know he isn’t lying. He’d never play with your safety like that. He loves you too much. Such an over protective boyfriend. A big teddy bear at heart despite the piercings, tattoos, and loud motorcycle he has to his name. He’d never do anything to harm you.

“I promise,” he kisses you again. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” you exhale. The boy smiles again. It shoves your nervous butterflies away and briefly replaces them with those affectionate butterflies you missed dearly.

“Good,” he kisses you deeper this time. You feel his pillowy lips against yours, sliding between your lips like they were made to be there. You almost grab his jaw to keep him against you. But he cuts the kiss short. The taste of cherries is left on your lips when he pulls away and grabs the spare helmet off the back of his bike.

“Put this on,” he hands it to you. It’s black and glossy and twice the size of your head. But you slide it on anyways, looking at your boyfriend through the tinted glasses of the helmet.

“How do I look?” You ask him.

Jungkook’s heart nearly flips. Who would have thought you’d be so cute with a helmet on? He did. You just confirmed it.

“Cold,” he settles with. Pulling of his biker jacket, he puts it over your shoulders. It’s night, and the air will only get colder once he starts riding. The jacket will provide extra protection if you fall, too. It’s thick exterior and interior act as a buffer against any surface. He doesn’t have a spare, but he’d risk himself for you on any occasion.

You slide the bulky sleeves up your arms, feeling slightly uncomfortable by the unfamiliar garment. It doesn’t really feel like a proper jacket, too stiff and thick to have on unless you were riding.

“Now, the key is to just lean,” he puts his own helmet over his head, trying to refocus. You watch his tattooed fingers grasp the handle of the left side of his bike after he walks over to it. “And hold onto me. Tight.”

He swings a leg over his bike, situating himself. Cocking his head to the side, he signals to you to come over. You do as you’re told.

With timid hands, you tightly hold onto his shoulder and hike yourself over his bike. It wobbles, and your heart skips a couple beats at the thought of falling. But Jungkook is calm, and you feel slightly reassured knowing he trusts the bike won’t do as you thought it would.

“H-How tight?” You ask, wrapping your arms around his waist. The softness of his t-shirt makes you feel better. Rather, the feeling of his body underneath your fingertips does. It’s soft and warm, but you feel the ridges of his abs as you test the tightness of your grip.

“Tighter,” he asks. You do.

He shakes his head. You see a wrinkle in his eye, knowing he’s smiling behind his helmet. With his rough hands, he grabs your own, tightening them himself around his waist.

“For dear life, Y/n,” he rubs your hands soothingly afterward.

You nod, doing as he says. A raspy chuckle leaves his lips at the tightness of your grip. He pulls his biker gloves and his keys out of his pocket before putting them on. With a twist of his key, the bike comes to life with a loud roar, and you somehow grip him tighter. He wishes you could see the blush he has going on right now. It’s worthy of a few lines of humiliation you like to throw at him whenever he’s feeling flustered by you.

“You ready?” He double checks.

You take a deep breath, telling him yes, which prompts him to lean the bike to the side and kick up the kickstand. He leans forward a little, and you move with him. With a flick of his wrist, you’re moving with him on his bike.

You feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins. The bike is moving! You’re gripping his t-shirt, probably some of his skin underneath, too, holding on for dear life like he instructed.

“Kook!” You inhale, weary of the already fast approaching speed. Little do you know he’s barely made it to the local street speed limit.

“Trust me,” he tells you surely.

Looking at the sureness of his hands on the steering, the steadiness of his pace, you decide it’s time you really do. This is Jungkook. He wouldn’t let you backpack unless he knew he was sure enough to handle you as one, unless he knew you’d be safe with him as a rider. He’s been training for this moment. Never proposing the idea until recently, and you knew it was because he finally felt ready to be trusted with your safety.

You’re still a little nervous, but you’ve transferred most of that into your arms and hands. You hold onto him, wrapping your arms fully around his waist, leaning into his back as you let him guide you through the night. He’s guided you through many things in life. Your first tattoo, your first New Years kiss. Your first true love. You trust him with your soul. You love him with all of it, too.

Under his helmet, Jungkook smiles with content when you wrap your hands around him. You’re trusting him. He feels the weight of responsibility. But moreover, the excitement of showing you something he loves. Of showing someone he loves something he loves to do. Riding through the night with wind going against him. The motor of his bike propelling him forward as he rides under the stars. How he’s dreamed of taking you on one of his joyrides. Something in him knew you would like it.

He goes faster, not daring to enter the highway on your first ride without your permission. But he goes through the local roads, hitting the exact speed of the speed limit given to him. Not going a unit over the number on the signs. You giggle when you realize, knowing the boy you hold onto usually does go a little over, even in the car. But the fact fills you with warmth that he wouldn’t dare play games with speed right now. Not with you on his back.

After a certain point, you reach a red light, and he puts a foot on the ground to stabilize the bike at the stop.

“How do you like it?” He turns his head slightly to check in with you.

“I love it,” you smile. “I love you.”

His big heart skips, and he looks back at the time on the cross walk to see if he has enough time to kiss you silly from your confession. But you give him no time.

“You can go faster,” you scooch closer to him.

“You sure?” He looks back at you again. The red reflection of the light still beams on his helmet.

You nod. “Take me on the highway, Kook.”

Suddenly, the light turns green.

“Okay,” he shakes his head in disbelief. A small laugh erupts through his chest. When did you get so dauntless? “Better hold on, then.”

You squeal, doing as he says when he accelerates forward. He’s faster this time, still stable and not at all reckless. But the wind catches your clothes enough to know he’s going to do as promised.

The laughs that erupt from your body when he hits the highway is enough to solidify that he’s so totally going to kiss you so silly tonight. Maybe all night, if you’ll let him.

He stays in the slow lane, going the minimum speed the highway gives, and yet you’re screaming joy and laughing relief out of your lungs as he guides you through the night. Just you and your biker boyfriend.

You trust him enough to take one hand away, letting your fingertips feel the wind of this summer night. But it’s interrupted after a while when Jungkook’s hand returns your own his waist. He pats the top of your palm a few times, telling you to behave, and you do. You hold him tighter, if that’s possible. Scooching closer to him as he finishes the ride off the highway.

The streets start to look familiar, the houses and street names ringing bells in your head. You’re sad to end the ride, honestly. Especially when he pulls up to his townhome, sliding into the parking spot right in front of it all a little too soon.

With steady hands, you sit up from your leaned position, still holding his waist, as he turns off the bike. Jungkook pulls off his helmet, brown messy hair falling around his ears from the release of the protective gear. There’s a bit of sweat forming at the base of his hairline, and you almost went to kiss it if it weren’t for your helmet. Before you can take it off, the man is already standing up, positioning himself in front of you to pull it off himself. You swing your leg around the bike, leaning your feet against the pavement as you stay seated. He stares down at you, tall and handsome as he awaits your approval.

“Well?” He tugs his lips upward. The piercings on his eyebrow dance as he raises it.

“I loved it,” you candor. “I kind of want to suck your cock right now.”

He laughs, crinkled nose and all. That nose nudges with yours when he kisses you. It’s slower than the pecks from before, when he was coaxing you into the joyride with him.

“That much?” He laughs. Those rough hands of his help you stand, the reminder of chest against yours only makes your heart flutter more. “Should have taken you sooner, then.”

“It was perfect, Kook,” you hold his jaw. “I really loved it.”

He looks at the stars in your eyes. The overwhelming presence of you in his biker jacket, holding his spare helmet in one hand and his jaw in the other. God, could you be any more perfect? He doesn’t know what to do with himself.

So he leans into you, holding the back of your neck as he sears his lips onto yours. He’s still cherry flavored, and you can taste it surely when he dips his tongue into your mouth. You envelope it warmly, kissing him with all the love you have. Except you wish you could feel more of him, have his skin against yours. You want the hand that holds his helmet to hold your waist. For your own hand that holds his spare to run through his hair. You want to be on his lap, to look at him from above, sweaty hair and brown eyes.

He seems to read your mind, detaching your lips only slightly when he whispers against them, “Do you want to go in?”

You nod, watching him smile knowingly. It’s one of those smiles he gives when he’s shy, when he feels bashful and is receiving more attention than he’s used to. It’s one of his cutest smiles to-date. The desire to jump his bones is stronger than it’s been all night.

You follow him as he walks up to the door. He takes your helmet from his hand and balances it on his finger like he does with his own. The key turns, and the smell of his apartment fills your lungs. It smells like him. Like man, but better. A strange thing to think about, as you never associated “man” with smelling good. But he does, somehow. He smells like home.

You follow in suit, taking your shoes off as he does the same when hooking your helmets on his biking rack next to his door. You lock it for him, and he smiles back at you in a quick thanks.

Quickly, you tread in front of him, becoming taller as you leave him in the shoe divot in front of the door.

“So does this mean you’ll let me take you on a few of my joyrides, then?” he asks you.

“You can take me on all of them if you want to,” you promise.

He comes up to you, destroying the height confidence you had from before when he steps up from the shoe divot.

“I love you,” he cups your jaw with both of his hands this time. Puffy lips connect with yours, they’re hot and slightly damp, firmly kissing you. Passion presses your back against the wall, his frame engulfing your body in love and lust as he kisses you. You can only return the favor, sliding your hands up his clothed chest. He breaks his grasp on your jaw when your hands slide around his neck, prompting him to replace his hands underneath your thighs instead. With no effort at all, as if you weigh a feather in his strong arms, he lifts you around his waist.

The new angle allows you to kiss him deeper, your hand securing around his neck and shoulder. Big hands hold your waist and back. He walks with you, messing around through his apartment, taking you to his bedroom by pure muscle memory as he’s too distracted by the smell your clothes against his skin to focus on anything else.

For a second, his hand leaves your back to push open his door. The lamp on his bedside table is still on, something he forgot to turn off when he left to meet you at the diner with your friend and her date earlier.

Gently, almost as if you were made of glass, he lays you on his sheets. You still have his biker jacket on, and he swears it’s never looked better on anyone else.

“Biker looks good on you,” he says, admiring you from above.

“Want me to leave it on?” You suggest, an eyebrow raise up at him.

You visibly see his cheeks turn red, and you have your answer before he can even say it.

“You don’t have to,” he denies. But you’re already sliding it off, taking your shirt and bra underneath before bringing the jacket over your shoulder again and zipping it up halfway.

He looks at you, bewildered and so terribly infatuated before he hides his face in his palm and groans. He’s so unbelievably flustered and he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“You’re going to kill me, Y/n,” he muffles in his hand.

You almost say something, but he’s already trapping your frame underneath his, searing his lips onto the skin of your neck. He bites and sucks at your skin, marking you in his purple and blue love bites. You can’t get enough, tilting your head for more, which he gladly gives you.

You pant lustfully in response when he hits your sweet spot. His lips are delicate at first when he comes across the territory he’s memorized so well. But you know better than to think that he’d stay that way. Not when he knows how it causes you to slide your hands in his hair and pull at his scalp in the way he likes best. Not when he knows you’ll react with the breathy moans he loves so much that flow from your lips at the slightest kiss. So he does just that, feeling your back arch into his chest and your fingers tangle in his hair when he plays with your pleasure.

“Jungkook,” you flutter. His lips feel so good, like they were made to make you feel like this.

He kisses down your neck, coming to the base of the zipper you left done halfway up the jacket. Slowly, he unzips it, watching the fabric part ways as gravity takes it to the sides of the bed. The jacket doesn’t completely reveal your breasts though, so he takes matters into his own hands and cups them from underneath.

His stare makes you feel shy, and you inhale sharply when his thumbs brush over your nipples slightly. The reaction makes you even more shy, and you cover your mouth with the back of your hand to hide the small moans that leave your mouth.

“So pretty,” he looks up at you.

You tug at the rim of his t-shirt, begging him to take it off as you lay open chested below him. He only chuckles at the realization, seeing that he’s still fully clothed, way too preoccupied with you to take care of himself.

He does as you ask and more, tugging off his t-shirt and his jeans, leaving him in only his boxers. You feel a wave of slick come through your panties at the sight. Tattoos and muscles stare back at you. You try to ignore the halfy he’s sporting in his boxers, a pure reminder of the activities you wanted to give to him as a thank you for taking you for a ride on his bike.

But he’s quick to turn you down when you sit up to do just that, hiking his fingers under your pants and sliding them down along with your underwear. He throws them somewhere on his floor, falling to his knees to admire you.

“Oh honey,” he marvels at the sight, sliding a slender finger gently up your folds. “You’re soaked.”

You whimper against the back of your hand.

“I-I wanted to suck you off,” you protest, placing a hand on his wrist. Not because you necessarily want him to stop, but because you were scared about how good his touch feels already. “As a thank you.”

“What for, baby?” He stops playing with you, his spare hand cups your thigh. Soothingly, his thumb rubs against your skin, waiting for your answer.

“For letting me ride with you,” you respond.

“You don’t need me to thank me for that, sweetheart,” he smiles gently. “I’d allow you to ride with me any time you want. I need to thank you for trusting me enough to want to,” he takes your hand in his. Those big doe eyes capture yours, asking for permission with stars in his eyes. “Will you let me?”

Fuck, will this man be the end of you. Of course you will, you’re basically leaking infront of his face.

You nod, and he shyly smiles again. The hand that had previously slipped up your folds springs to life again. This time, it circles your entrance gently, causing you to whimper into your skin. Hot lips envelope your clit, his tongue playing with you softly.

“K-Kook,” you gasp at the feeling. He only hums, his eyes closing when he applies more pressure into your leaking heat. The vibrations from his moans against your clit cause you to arch your back, your head falling back against the sheets when his fingers play in tandem with his tongue. They tempt over your cunt, circling your hole and gathering your juices just enough to make you go crazy.

He detaches his mouth for a brief moment, his lips covered in your heat, red with lust, as he watches you squirm when he replaces his thumb with his tongue over your clit. His mouth always does wonders, but something about his thumb against that ball of nerves makes you clutch onto your orgasm for dear life. It’s firm against you, not too harsh, but just enough to make you feel all of it when he circles it slowly underneath his thumb. Jungkook pulls your hips closer to the edge of the bed, completely in control as you let him thank you. He watches you carefully as he inserts a finger into your aching pussy, seeing how you gasp and grab onto his wrist. But he’s stronger than you, and you’re fully aware of that. You also don’t want him to stop—your grasping onto him a mere reaction for support.

“Does that feel good, baby?” He asks you. He’s so gentle, always so cautious at first. You know at one point he’ll become a sex demon and ram you into the sheets. But he’s being a sweetheart right now, wanting to coax an orgasm or two out of you first. He does it right.

“Mhm,” you solidify. Your answer is weak, too taken over by the sliding of his finger against your walls.

“Do you want my mouth?” He asks. You know he’s asking permission, well too aware that the combo is a recipe for an orgasm.

“Y-yes, please,” you give it to him.

He chuckles at your polite response, although it takes over his desire in ways that he’s struggling to control. You’re just so sweet to him, always so perfect in every way. He couldn’t ask for anything more. You’re perfect. And you’re his.

He replaces his thumb with his mouth again, this time moving faster than before. His pace quickens, and he adds another finger to your dripping cunt. The feeling makes you dig your fingers into his hair, pressing him against your pussy. It gets him high, moaning against your cunt shyly as he curls his fingers against your g-spot.

“Jungkook, m’ gonna cum,” you whine into air. Both your hands secure his head on your mound, as if he’d leave before you finish.

He feels you clench around his fingers, so damn tight his cock twitches in his boxers embarrassingly. But he ignores it, taking his mouth off your cunt to give you his thumb again. The change makes you arch your back, the coil in your tummy slowly unraveling beneath him.

“There you go,” he coaxes you. “Good girl.”

You gush at the nickname. White heat flows around his fingers, and he replaces them with his tongue as you finish against his lips. The sensation is almost too much, your over sensitivity making you whimper and close your thighs around his head to stop him.

“K-Koo,” you whine. “Sensitive.”

He finishes up at your request, swallowing your release sweetly. He leaves you gently to stand up, tossing his boxers somewhere on the floor. You’re left to catch your breath, an arm over your eyes as you gasp into the air of his bedroom. Only when you feel his familiar frame tower over you again do you look up. You’re met with a sweaty man with wet lips and a lovestuck smile plastered on his features.

“You okay?” He kisses your forehead.

“Mm,” is all you have the strength to say.

You feel his thumb pry your mouth open.

“Open for me,” he asks you anyways. You mewl when you see him gathering spit in his mouth. He transfers it to you rudely, and you feel you might just cum again from the sheer force of it. He’s so hot, you feel overwhelmed.

You feel it enough to gain the strength to flip him over when he’s off guard, straddling his hips with his biker jacket on your shoulders.

“What’s this?” He grabs your waist. God, you look so good in his clothes.

“Let me give you a ride this time, Kookie,” you suggest.

He swears he’s never heard anything hotter in his life. It makes his dick leak with precum, your suggestion paired with his favorite girl in his favorite jacket ontop of him.

Your soft hands lay on his chest for support as you lift up your hips. He helps you, grabbing your waist with his big hands. You grab his cock, so big and just for you, lining it up with your wet cunt. You slide it in with a small gasp of your lips, and you swear you see his eyes roll back slightly at the feeling.

“Oh,” you softly gasp as he fills you up. The stretch is so good from this angle, filling every inch of your walls up to the brim. You feel all of him, and he can feel all of you, too. You know it with the way he grips your hips, telling you to give him a minute when you reach the base.

You give him just that, before you test the waters again and start a pace.

“Fuck,” he tilts his head back. You riding him is an entirely different sensation, his thighs slack and your ass bouncing on his cock as you use him for pleasure. You feel so good, you always feel so good. So perfect for him.

“Koo,” you mewl as your hands plant for support just below his rib cage. Your hips move perfectly, bouncing on his cock like it’s your day job. It’s exhausting, but it feels too good to stop. You won’t until it’s too much, until you can’t do it anymore.

You see why Jungkook likes to be on top most the time. The view from this angle is sickening. You see the sweat coming down from his scalp and neck. It begs to make entry into his forehead, and you hope at one point it does. Brown hair flops and lays over his skin and the sheets blow him. His Adams apple bobs every time he moans and swallows. You see every scar, mole, and blush this man presents to you. You feel entirely privileged that he is all yours.

He catches you staring, his big hands that you love so much cup your thighs on either side of his hips.

You feel sweaty in his jacket, already knowing it probably smells like sex and sweat already. You feel flush from the heat, and he seems to take note, coming up to hug around your waist with one arm and push off the jacket with the other. His legs dangle over the edge of the bed, supporting you on his lap as the jacket falls to the floor.

“So pretty,” he hums against your lips. His cock throbs inside of you, and you beg for friction, pushing your knees against the mattress and sliding up and down ontop of him again. “You like this, huh? You like fucking my cock?”

“Yes,” you whine against his neck. You feel like a horny teenager, unable to get enough of the man beneath you.

“So needy, baby,” he helps your pace with his hands on your hips. It’s quicker, making you dig your fingers into his scalp as you moan against his neck. “You like riding me? Tell me which one you like to ride more, my bike or my cock. Hm?”

“Y-You,” you respond almost immediately. But he doesn’t seem to like your answer, his hand landing a harsh slap against your ass that causes you to dig your nails into his shoulder.

“I can’t hear you, baby,” he kisses your neck.

You somehow muster the strength to face him again, your hips changing direction slightly to rock back and forth against him. It makes your cheeks feel numb and your fingers tingly, his dick pressing against your g-spot so delicately.

You nudge your nose against his, his cherry flavored lips ever so slightly touching yours.

“You,” you repeat. “I like to ride you more than anything.”

That seems to do it for him, your short ride of dominance ended as his lips take you over. He kisses you until he’s got you in your back again, his body obsessed with your own.

“So perfect for me,” he kisses you. “Let me fuck you good, yeah? My perfect baby.”

You can only nod, ready to come back to your throne as pillow princess. Your boyfriend takes your thighs, hiking them up around his back before he rams into you.

He fucks you like he’s in heat, needy and overwhelmed. His tip hits you in all the right places, causing you to arch your back into his chest. You scratch at his tattoos, chanting his name against his neck as he makes you feel good over and over again.

“J-Jungkook,” you gasp. You try to say your words, but you’re hit with euphoria with every thrust he delivers into your body. “Koo, I-“

“I know, baby,” he shushes you, a kiss to your cheek. “Just cum for me, hm?” He suggests.

“C-Close,” you tell him. The man seems to know your body more than you know it yourself, his lips reattaching to your sweet spot so delicately, it doesn’t match up at all with the way his hips piston into you. “Jungkook,” you gasp when he sucks there. The familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach returns, and you feel warm throughout your entire body.

With his hair in your face, lips on your neck, and hands caging your body beneath his, you tighten around his cock, unraveling for the second time underneath the man above you.

You feel him twitch, knowing he’s not that far behind you. He moans so sweetly against your neck when you tighten around him, his hips losing rhythm as you cum on his dick.

“Sso tight,” he groans against your neck. “I-Is inside okay?”

“Y-Yes,” you sigh against his ear. You’re so fucked out, so obsessed with him. You really don’t know if there’s a request out of his cherry lips you can deny.

“Oh, ah—“ he grips the sheets, balling them up in his fists. “M’ gonna cum.”

You simply run your hand through his hair, gripping it strongly as he thrusts harshly inside you. It overstimulates you, and you pant his name against his scalp as his seed spills out of you in hot, thick ropes. His moans are like music to your ears. So breathy and sweet. You swear you’ve never heard anything more lovely in your life.

The two of you calm down, your sweaty bodies absolutely filthy with summer night air, the smell of motorcycle exhaust, sex, sweat, and cum. It starts to make you cringe after a while. Ever the attentive one, your boyfriend notices and comes up from his place by your neck.

He gives you a soft smile before pecking your lips gently.

“I’ll start the shower,” he offers, pecking your lips again.

You let him leave you for a few seconds. Feeling cold and bare, you get up and search for your clothes. But you’re unable to find them, probably kicked somewhere underneath the bed. You only see Jungkook’s t-shirt and his jacket from before. So you slide the t-shirt over your head, feeling giddy again with the smell of him engulfing your senses.

With sore legs and an aching core, you walk over to the bathroom, hugging your man from behind like you did on his bike just an hour ago.

“This is my favorite part,” you start, holding him tighter.

“Hugging me?” He asks.

“Mhm,” you confirm.

You feel him laugh a bit in your arms, turning around in them only to poke at your frown.

“I like to hold you close. Especially when you go fast suddenly and I get a little scared,” you look up at him.

The shower mist fills up the mirror, and the heat lulls you into the feeling of sleepiness his aftercare always gives you.

“I never want to scare you,” he kisses your forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you lean into his palm, his hand holding your face close as he kisses your swollen lips softly.

“Now, let’s get you cleaned up,” he cups your hips.

You open your eyes, watching him eye the shirt you’re wearing.

“Seriously, baby, you gotta stop wearing my clothes,” he slides his t-shirt over your head. “It’s doing things to me.”

“Maybe tomorrow I’ll wear your biker suit then,” you wiggle your eyebrows.

“Now that would murder me.”

***

[End. Do not copy. Original work of @jungkookstatts , 2024]

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saetoshis · 1 year

Text

TOO MUCH OR NOT ENOUGH? [‹ DEMON SLAYER ›]

[‹ WITH ›] tengen ; akaza ; haganezuka ; gyomei

[‹ SUMMARY ›] how much of a size kink do they have?

[‹ MATURE CONTENT WARNINGS ›]

fem!reader, size kink, dacryphilia, praise, pet names [baby, bunny, pretty thing, sweet girl], some teasing, modern au (not canon), minors + ageless dni

[‹ TENGEN ›] 8 out of 10!

tengen won't lie that he has a bit of a size kink, and it's prevalent in the way he always makes comments about your cute expressions when you have to look up at him, or how you can't seem to fully wrap your hand around his cock.

he can't lie - he really gets a kick out of it.

"oh- almost there," tengen teases between a pearled smirk as he watches your mouth slowly but surely take his cock between your lips, and it feels impossible with how much there is. he coos sweetly at the little tears adorning your bottom lashes with a sneer of, “so good, baby. show me that pretty mouth, you almost got it, now…”

you mumble and hiccup incoherently onto his cock, your smooth tongue pressing tightly against his nerves from the sheer lack of room and it makes tengen groan. you bob your head back and forth, the wet noises and little chokes and hummed moans making tengen’s abs shudder hard.

“that’s it, just like that… love the way you suck it,” tengen lets out little grunts and shaky breaths between an egotistic grin, his hips slowly starting to rut into your now-drooling mouth as he watches you flutter your wet eyelashes up at him meekly. “oh, you’re just so pretty trying to take all this, aren’t you? wanna let me go a little faster now? hm?”

[‹ AKAZA ›] 6 out of 10!

akaza doesn’t initially notice the size difference between the two of you, so he didn’t know he had a kink for it until you sat on his lap and still had to crane your head to look up at him.

from then on, it was all he could notice - how much of your thigh he can manage to grab with one hand, or how small your hands are when they’re intertwined with his. he definitely has to admit, he enjoys it at least a little.

“oh, bunny,” akaza pants out the words between little moans, his hands grasping your hips and rocking your frame on his cock over and over. you’re so much smaller than him, it’s so easy for him to maneuver you like this - and it’s clear by the open-mouthed, half-lidded look on your face that you love it, too. you whimper and hiccup and akaza gives you a little shush, “shh, s’ okay… feels good, right? just relax, lemme take care of you, m’kay?”

“mhm, mhm,” you hum and stifle back moans as he rocks you onto him a little harder, a little faster. every push of his cock into the hilt of your cunt feels like a little jolt of pleasure flowing up your spine, and it takes everything in you not to cum on the spot now. “g- cum, gonna cum…!”

“that’s it… c’mon n’ lemme have it, don’t be shy,” akaza leers as he feels his cock twitching with every clench of your walls around him, the whimpers leaving your lips making his breath hitch in his chest. he grips your waist, easily picking up the pace of your hips just a bit more. “lil harder, okay? just a little more, you can handle it, right?”

[‹ HAGANEZUKA ›] 9 out of 10!

hotaru has always known he’s had a size kink when it came to you. from the way his big shoulders can easily block your view to the way your head only makes it up to his chest, he’s always known.

he gets turned on so easily by the way you’ll playfully push him to be met with no budging, and especially by the way you look so small when he’s kneeling behind you on the sheets with his big hand pressed on your back.

“s-shit. feelin’ so tight, pretty thing,” hotaru mumbles and grunts out when he slips his cock between your taut walls, his brawny hands holding your hips stable as you kneel on all fours on the bed in front of him. it takes a little before he can fully push himself inside, and he shudders hard when he does. “there it is. so good for lettin’ me put it all in…”

you whine as your frame shakes when he leans forward, curling his body overtop of yours as he presses messy kisses into your nape. hotaru’s hips slowly start rutting forwards, every wet smack making you keen for more. you whimper with each time he pushes further inside, feeling a burning tingle in your cunt as you pant, “s-so stretched…”

“oh, i know, baby… i know it is,” hotaru sneers out the words as he presses messy kisses and drags of his tongue onto your neck, his hips rocking a little faster as the sounds get filthier and louder. his cock twinges inside of you when you clench even tighter around him, “fuck- you tryin’ to make me cum already? but even if i do… i’m definitely not done for the night yet.”

[‹ GYOMEI ›] 10 out of 10!

gyomei can’t help how big he is, both his body and what’s in his pants - so naturally, he finds it attractive when you saunter around in his oversized clothes or have to ask him to reach the top shelf for you.

it drives him crazy with way you look so small in his lap, or how you have to use two hands when you’re just trying to get him off - it’s endearing, almost, and he just can’t resist it.

“shh, i know, i know…” gyomei murmurs against your lips to soothe your hiccuped whimpers at the way the head of his cock pushes in your cunt, and it’s such a big stretch that it makes little tears prick your eyes. he knows to go slow, and he knows to make sure you’re as wet as possible beforehand, but even then - it’s still a struggle. “i got you, sweet girl…”

gyomei kisses you hypnotizingly as his thumb toys with your clit, running small wet circles into your nerves to help him start to slip inside, albeit at an agonizingly slow pace. bit by bit, he pushes further until he reaches the hilt of your cunt with still more length to spare. you whimper and hiccup against his cheek, “gyo… t-too big-! too… much.”

“i’ll go slow, alright? promise, it’ll feel nice in a second, hm?” gyomei tries not to grunt out the words from how warm you feel around him, especially when you tighten up in tandem with his thumb circling your clit. every heavy rut of his hips makes you tear up a little more, mewls and panted whimpers leaving your gaped lips. it doesn’t take long until you’re both desperately keening for more, and gyomei can’t possibly hold back another second. “shi- oh… just a little faster, okay? j-just… a little more. you can do that for me, right, sweet girl?”

2023 SAETOSHIS. do not copy or repost.

#[‹ moshi : writes ›]#i half-proofread this guys SORRY IF ITS SHIT 😋#kny smut #kny x reader #kny x you #demon slayer smut #demon slayer x reader #tengen x reader #tengen smut #uzui tengen smut #uzui tengen x reader #akaza smut #akaza x reader #haganezuka smut #haganezuka x reader #gyomei smut #gyomei x reader #cw size kink #cw dacryphilia

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tyunphoria · 6 months

Text

🌪️not in my movie ! — b.chan

- - - - -

⚠️NSFW CONTENT!⚠️

- - - - -

ghostface!bang chan x reader

SYNPNOSIS: just a fun game of cat and mouse till you fall in the lion’s den.

INCLUDES: AFAB reader, college!au, pet names, praise, ANGST and SMUTTT. Finding out he’s ghostface gee what a shocker, not proof read, rushed:p chan’s hella manipulative if you squint.

WARNINGS: threatening, mentions of death and murders, blood, slight degradation, fear play, slight dacryphilia, DOM!chan, p in v, oral (giving), fingering, hair pulling, uh tw just to make sure: non con that turns consensual, semi public not rlly?, UNPROTECTED SEX, mentions of vomiting.

[click here to read ghostface!hanjisung x reader.]

w.c: 4.5k

The leaves were ablaze with autumn hue as y/n walked across the quad of her college campus. She breathed in the crisp autumn air, savouring the hint of bonfire smoke that indicated the fair was being set up. Y/n loved this time of the year. Students milled about between classes, backpacks slung over shoulders, coffee cups warming hands. Some douchebags would even take the liberty to scare their peers and professors while clad in a black robe and a ghostface mask.

Speaking of, your senior Chan just fell victim to one of the pranks and it was hilarious how you got to witness it first hand.

“I hate Halloween…” Chan grumbled as he fell into step beside you.

Your body buzzed with laughter as you handed him the book that slipped from his grasp. “Are you going to that fair tonight?” You ask. Chan makes an expression you couldn’t read, akin to contemplation tinged with mild distaste at the idea. You knew him well enough to read the thoughts flitting across his face — he was tempted by the promise of candy apples and haunted houses but also felt the pull of responsibility to study for his upcoming exam.

“Oh come on, Christopher.” You roll your eyes, “a few hours of fun won’t kill you.”

“Hard pass.” He said. He wasn’t one to back down to these types of things but he claimed that there was something about Halloween which gave him the ‘ick’. “And it’s not just that… Changbin lost a bet so now he’s gonna have to wear a playboy bunny costume to the fair. Think I wanna see that?” You laugh and shake your head, bidding him goodbye as you turn to enter your apartment until Chan stopped you once more by grabbing ahold of your arm.

“Y/n,” he says, his voice stern. “I’m being serious this time. Just… how about you just don’t go? It’s dangerous, especially how late it is at night. Who knows… maybe ghostface himself would show up uninvited.”

His warning sent goosebumps to rise on your skin, making the hair on your nape stand. You mask it with a light scoff. “Really, Chris? When are you gonna drop this ghostface shit. Dude’s been M.I.A for years, I think I’ll be fine.”

You try to pull away but his grip around your wrist tightens before you find yourself being pulled against his chest, hands holding your waist in place as he buries his face against your neck. “Be careful out there, yeah?”

Your hard gaze softens. “I will.”

- - - - -

“Y/n!” Felix beams as he captures you in a tight embrace.

“Jesus Christ, lix.” You gently pull away from the hug to examine his costume. “Elsa?”

“It’s cute, no?” He pouts. “Aya’s over there by the dart booth.” You nod at him gratefully, giving him one last hug before making your way to Aya.

“Hey bitch!” You grin. Aya bounces over to you, planting a kiss on your cheek, staining your skin with the bright red lipstick she wore.

“You wore the costume I bought you, let me see,” she twirls you around. “Hot, hot, okay, but babes that jacket has gotta go.”

“It’s cold!” You protest. “And my tits are practically out.”

Aya sighed in exasperation. “Halloween is the one year where a girl can dress like a total slut and no other girls can say anything about it.” She quotes.

The fair was packed with hordes of costumed attendees, mostly college students from nearby universities. Your eyes widened as she took in the revealing outfits on display - girls in lingerie masquerading as "sexy cat" costumes, shirtless guys with lampshades on their heads.

"Is that chick only wearing a bra and a fucking g-string?" You murmured to Aya, who stood beside you nibbling on candy corn from a paper bag.

Aya followed her gaze to a scantily clad brunette in the distance. "Looks like it," she snorted.

"Thank god there are no kids around here tonight."

You said, finding the lack of children odd. Usually by 8pm, the fair would be swarming with kids getting high off of cotton candy and running around wildly.

"Yeah, the government placed a curfew," Aya explained after popping a few gummy worms into her mouth. "Didn't you hear?"

"A curfew? No, why?" You felt unease curl in your stomach. The last curfew had been years ago, when a killer in a mask murdered a group of teens.

Aya lowered her voice. "It's all over the news. Two days ago someone broke into this girl's house downtown. And then a bunch of people were found dead behind the HYBE office building."

Your brows furrowed. There's no way it could be Ghostface again, right? That killer had been caught years ago.

Chris’s words from this morning suddenly plagued your mind and it bothered you.

A theory was circulating online that there was more than one Ghostface. That a group of obsessed fans had taken up the killer mantle. Those amateur reddit detectives were digging far deeper than the useless ass police.

What if Chan had been right? Unease bloomed in your chest as you glanced around the fair.

Aya takes notes of her expression, attempting to lighten the mood by shoving some cotton candy in your mouth.

“Stop worrying. Let’s go ride the roller coaster and eat candy till we fucking barf!”

- - - - -

“Oh, fuck me, I’m gonna—“ Aya bends over the railing and hurled.

Your cheeks tint in embarrassment, an awkward smile on your lips as you pat her back, trying to ignore the disgusted looks both of you were receiving.

“Bitch you gotta go on without me,” she slumps against a nearby bench, chugging down a can of beer to wash off the vile taste.

“What!” You frown, “but the haunted house, you promised!” You tugged on her arm but she doesn’t budge. “Tsk, fine, I’ll go without you then.”

They built a new attraction that the place has been working on for years but it just now opened up today. It was a big haunted mansion. You wondered why it took so long for them to open it up, but you found out not too long ago that they didn’t hire any scare actors for this attraction, they were all animatronics.

You see your friend by the entrance, collecting tickets and admitting people in.

"Hyunjin!" you exclaimed, a wide smile lighting up your face as you spotted your friend stationed at the entrance, diligently collecting tickets and admitting people in. "I didn’t know your ass worked here."

The blond returned your smile and motioned for three more people to enter before making his way over to you. "Yeah, I actually wanted to take today off, but they were in desperate need of extra staff. I was looking forward to spending the night with my girlfriend too." he replied with a small sigh. "Surprisingly, it's even more crowded than last year. You'd think people would stay home, given the murder incident that happened at HYBE."

You crossed your arms. You really didn’t wanna think about that right now. casting a quick glance down at your heels, momentarily distracted by the discomfort throbbing in your feet. "I shouldn't have worn these," you gesture to your heels.

Something crossed Hyunjin’s face as his expression went blank. “It’s gonna bitch to run in those if that fucker catches you.”

You gape at him. Who the fuck says something like that so casually?

“Sorry,” Hyunjin chuckled. “It’s part of my script.” Oh right… yeah, of course, it being halloween and him working at a horror attraction explains it.

“Oh, it’s your turn, y/n. You going in alone?” He asks. You glance behind you past the long line of teenagers to spot your friend Aya flirting with some guy. You grunt. “Yeah. Just me.”

Hyunjin smiles, taking your ticket and opening up the doors for you. “Enjoy.” He puts it simply, closing the doors behind you.

Hyunjin glances at the rest of the people in the line, the smile falling from his face as he makes his announcement which results in a chorus of groans.

“Okay everyone! Haunted mansion’s closed for tonight.”

- - - - -

As you ventured further into the haunted mansion, the path guided you through a dimly lit corridor. The flickering candles along the walls cast eerie shadows, whispering secrets in the air.

"for something that took years to make, this is pretty boring," you muttered, your disappointment evident in your voice. The first half of the experience was extremely underwhelming. The animatronics were, at least. But as you stepped into the next room, your boredom quickly turned to awe.

Inside, the place was straight out of a Gothic horror story. The Victorian aesthetic engulfed you, transporting as if you were entering dracula’s house or some shit.

As you continued, animatronic figures lurched and screeched, attempting to startle you with their mechanical movements and eerie sounds. But let's be real, they were more comical than terrifying. Their jerky motions and predictable jump scares only elicited laughter instead of fear..

You couldn't help but chuckle, finding amusement in their exaggerated gestures and obvious gimmicks. It became a game to anticipate their predictable moves, mocking their feeble attempts at fright.

The vibe itself was pretty spooky.

The thing that genuinely terrified you was the sudden ear-piercing scream cutting through the air.

Was that from outside? You couldn’t tell. There weren’t any windows. Maybe it just came from one of the speakers.

How long has it been, seven minutes maybe? Well, for one the place was huge and you took up most of the time taking pictures of the place and messing with the bots.

Startled by the crashing sound of the picture frame hitting the floor, you couldn't help but leap in surprise. As your racing heart gradually settled, you cautiously rounded the corner, only to find yourself confronted with a seemingly endless maze of hallways. The disorienting sight added to your growing sense of unease.

Just as you began to collect your thoughts, your hand-held phone abruptly buzzed, causing you to jump once more. The unexpected vibration sent a jolt through your system, making you exclaim, "Jesus—fuck!" A nervous chuckle escaped your lips as you pressed a trembling hand against your chest, trying to calm your pounding heart.

Assuming it was Aya, you braced yourself for a string of impatient requests to hurry up and drive her home. However, to your surprise, the incoming text displayed an unknown number. Curiosity mingled with a tinge of annoyance as you read the message that flashed on your screen: "

“Let’s play a game:)”

Your heart rate quickened in response, you weren't in the mood for pranks, you grumbled and decided to power off your phone, hoping to put an end to the unsettling message.

Your phone buzzed again.

With a mix of frustration and apprehension, you reluctantly picked up your phone and saw another message from the same unknown number: "Don't fucking ignore me, l/n." The words sent a shiver down your spine.

Reluctantly, you type back, your fingers trembling on the keyboard.

"Who are you?" you ask, your anxiety building with each passing moment.

The chat bubbles appear on the screen, filled with an unsettling anticipation. The silence hangs heavy, broken only by the rapid beating of your heart.

"Let's play," the mysterious person replies.

Frustration bubbles up inside you, and you can't help but snap in response. "Look asshole, I don't have time for this," you retort, your patience wearing thin.

A pause follows, and then their next message appears, sending a chill down your spine. "I'm sure you do if your life depends on it," they jeer, their words laced with a sinister edge.

Confusion and fear intertwine within you, clouding your thoughts. Their cryptic statements leave you bewildered, struggling to grasp their true intentions.

Suddenly, a notification pops up, revealing an incoming image. With trembling hands, you open it, only to be met with a horrifying sight—Hyunjin covered in blood, and Aya who looked lifeless leaned up against a pole.

A scream escapes your lips as you drop your phone, shock coursing through your veins. Trembling, you gather the courage to pick up the device again, your mind racing with terror and desperation.

With a renewed sense of horror, you read the next message: "Don't worry, darling. They’re not dead yet. If you can be a good girl for me, I may just spare them."

Each word intensifies your panic, emphasizing the gravity of the situation.

“Don’t hurt them. I’ll do whatever you want.”

The tears streaming down your face are uncontrollable, having to hold the wall for support so your legs didn’t give up on you.

“Let’s play a game of hide and seek.” It writes. “I’m giving you two minutes to hide. If I find you by the time it strikes 12,” then they stopped typing. Seconds felt like hours as you waited. “Let’s just say they don’t get to see another day. As for you, things won’t get pretty so make sure to hide well:)”

It’s a little after 11:40, so you only have twenty minutes till the game is over. You assume that the timer for the duration you had to hide already started so you wasted no time to break into a sprint.

The game seemed simple enough. All you needed to do was hide for fifteen more minutes and you were golden! Besides, it’s a pretty big mansion. You’re confident that it’ll take them hours to find you.

- - - - -

Two more minutes.

There were only two minutes left.

You sink down against the wall, pulling your legs close to your chest. Thoughts of Chris flood your mind. You imagine how he might be doing, picturing the moment when all of this would be over and you could finally return home. The image of him standing before you, his dimpled smile breaking through, teasingly claiming that going to the fair wasn't such a great idea after all, tugs at the corners of your lips and brings a glimmer of warmth to your heart.

"I told you so!" he would tease, his voice filled with both amusement and genuine concern. But deep down, you know that Chan would be consumed with worry for your well-being and safety. You already imagine him scolding you, all while showering you with hugs and gifts to make you feel better. As his junior, his guidance and advice always carried weight, and you never missed an opportunity to listen to his words.

You find yourself sinking deeper into the memories, recalling how Chan had always been so understanding. Whenever the principal's wrath came crashing down, he was there, standing by your side, ready to defend you with unwavering loyalty. And when the storms of heartbreak or failed hook-ups battered your heart, Chris, was there to console you in ways that went beyond words. It was as if you were a treasured princess in his eyes, deserving of nothing but the utmost care and tenderness.

But right now wasn’t exactly the best time to dwell on your fat crush on him.

Like, yes, sure you guys fucked one or twice before but they meant nothing. It was just a way to relieve frustrations with zero strings attached.

His warmth, his voice… his hands that touch you in all the right places.

You’re definitely gonna miss it if you die in this hell hole.

“What's on your pretty little mind that’s got you thinking so deeply, princess?”

You gasp and quickly shoot up to a sprint until your front is pushed up against a wall, feeling someone’s weight pressed against you along with a cold blade poking against your throat.

“I found youuuu,” he taunts.

The man wearing a ghostface mask chuckled as he pressed the knife more into your neck, enough to make a small cut. You wince and groan in pain. The situation is almost laughable, finding it somewhat cliché with the way you’re about to die.

“Fucking… let me go,”

“But princess, I won didn’t I? We had a deal.”

“Fine! You win! Just kill me already then, why drag longer?”

You squirm around to possibly irk him more to speed up the process but as you do, the further your backside gets pushed into his hard on making him groan into your left ear. “But what’s the fun in killing you right away. I’m here to claim my prize.”

Your eyes widen, realizing what his intentions were now.

An idea popped in your head. If you just played along for a few more, you can distract him and make a beeline for the exit.

A laugh slips past your lips. “What’s this? I didn’t expect mister ghostface to be such a perv.” You rub your ass against the tent of his sweats eliciting a strained grunt from the man behind you.

He drops the knife, closing your throat with his fist, bringing your head back. “Don’t fucking tempt me.”

You squeeze your eyes shut at the sensation of his gloved hand cupping your sensitive pussy. Slick begins to stain your lacy red panties as he hummed and dragged his middle finger along your slit. You gasp out in surprise, “don’t do that…”

“Oh? But you were rubbing against me not too long ago like a little slut, what happened to that confidence?” He reaches down further and gently parts the lips of your vulva before gently circling your entrance.

“Tell me to stop and I will.” Your eyes flutter open at his words. You both have already gone this far, why stop now? If you told him to stop, would it just prompt him to kill you? You wanted to atleast see Chris before you died… Well, he asked for permission at least so that was good… fuck it, what about this situation was considered good in the first place? Played with your feelings using fear and dread and now he has you pressed up against the wall with his hand down your underwear.

It was a bit of a turn on.

“Why don’t you kiss my ass and fuck me already.”

You couldn’t see his face but you knew from the tone of his voice that he was grinning, “Good choice.” You were wet and waiting, so he slips a finger inside, thumb circling your clit. You moan, back arching. He adds another finger and pumps his fingers, adjusting the pace while you fall apart in his arms. Your sighs and moans, the way your body responds to him. He hooks his fingers as he circles your clit, rewarded with a moan that sounds suspiciously like calling on the gods.

You tighten around his fingers as you cum, your cheeks flushed in mild embarrassment, with your lipstick smudged from his fingers stuffing your throat full. He strokes you through your orgasm, a beautiful sight to see you undone like this, having to fight the urge to rio off his mask and kiss you.

“Did that feel good, princess?”

“Don’t… call me that.”

“What’s wrong? Do you like being called derogatory names instead?”

Your cheeks flushed. “No! I just… only he can call me princess…”

Ghostface went quiet as he stilled momentarily. He takes his fingers out. “Is that so..” his laughter fills your ears and you can’t help but shy away by hiding your face. Your body was jerked around, forcing you to face him as he squished your cheeks together roughly.

“Open your eyes.”

You shake your head. He moved his hand from your cheeks to your hair making you moan out in surprise.

“Your mask scares me!” You cried out. Staring back at the two blank eyes of the costume while getting fucked isn’t exactly ideal.

“Then I’ll take it off.”

He’s bluffing. Cause there’s no way in hell — this dude’s gotta be bluffing. “You’d do that?”

“For you I would.”

‘Yeah. If you could just take off your mask so I could report you to the police when I’m outta here that’d be great.’

But you’d wish you told him to keep his mask on instead. You would’ve rather preferred that.

“Chris?”

He cradled your face in his hand. “Why do you look so sad, princess? Not what you were expecting?” All you could do was cry. You were confused. You felt betrayed. You wanted nothing more than to shove him away but also melt against the warmth of his touch, the gentle caress of his hands that once brought you comfort. “Shh… shh, don’t cry.” Chan leans in and kisses away your tears.

“Why?” You hiccuped.

“I didn’t want you finding out. I never meant for this to happen.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Hell, y/n, I didn’t want you getting roped into this mess but you drive me fucking insane.

I won’t kill you, I just wanted to be honest with you. I’m sorry if you had to find out this way—“

You swallow his next words with a kiss. You didn’t want to listen to his words anymore. You didn’t care if it’s an excuse, you didn’t care if it was a lie, you didn’t care about anything as long as it was him.

“Save it. Whatever lame ass excuse you’re about to come up with, I forgive you.” This catches him off guard. He opens his mouth to say something but you cut him off again, “I’m tired and my pussy’s throbbing so let’s hurry and wrap this up.”

He grinned, urging to your knees. He gave your cheek a rough couple pats as he brought his index and middle finger to your lips, “open.” You part your lips and with little to no warning, he shoves his fingers down your throat. With his other hand, he pulled his sweats and briefs halfway down his toned thighs. He rubbed your spit around the length of his dick, giving it a few strokes before tracing the tip against your lips.

You poke your tongue out just to get a little taste of him making Chris visibly shudder. He groans before pushing the tip past your lips. You wrapped your lips around his cock and his hand immediately found its way on the back of your head. “Yeah… fuck, just like that…” you wrapped both of your hands around his length and worked quick pumps around the head while the other worked its way along the base.

He felt his knees buckle a little when you started sucking his balls. “You look so pretty like this,” he urged himself back into your mouth. “And who do you belong to?”

“You.” You moan. “I’m all yours, Channie.”

That was all the confirmation he needed before he began to brutally fuck your little throat. Your dress had ridden up gave it the liberty to press the tip of his shoe against your cunt making your hips jerk forward. As he ruthlessly fucked your throat and the laces of his converse rubbed deliciously against uour clit the stimulation was beyond amazing. After holding your head firmly against his pelvic area for what seemed like eternity, he finally let you get some air, removing yourself from his dick with a sloppy pop.

“Come here, pretty princess. Wanna cum inside of you…” he was quick to pull you to your feet and pushed you back up against the wall. Your answering smile is a smug thing, as if you’re proud of the effect you had on him. He kisses you then, groaning as he tastes himself on your tongue. Chan gripped your plush thighs and lifted you up with ease. He was gentle and slow, despite the circumstances you were thrown into. He rips your panties in half trying to get them off, drowning out your protests with a slight chuckle. “I’ll buy you new one’s.” He shoves your panties in his pocket before swiping his tip against your wet folds. “Oh,” you breathe out, eyes fluttering shut as he begins to move. The rhythm is slow at first, your fingers pulling him closer, as if you could eliminate all space between the both of you. Your hips meet his every thrust as they move together at a languid pace, as if they have all the time in the world.

He can feel the way your heart races, the rush of blood in your veins. He tries to be as gentle as possible as he sinks his teeth into your neck, drawing a delicious gasp from your lips as he thrusts into you, hoping to balance out the sensation of pain and pleasure. His face hovers over yours, breaths mingling. “Can you hear how wet you are?” He grunts, adding his thumb to the mix by rubbing your almost painfully sensitive clit. You moan loudly, back arching against the wall when you felt chan begin to suck at your tits over the thin material of your dress.

“Been wanting to fuck you for so long… seeing you walk around all night looking dolled up, I felt so jealous.”

He pounds mercilessly into your poor pussy, salty tears beginning to run down your cheeks from the overwhelming pleasure. “You're so gorgeous… wanna make you all mine — fuck,” he moans. “You’re so naughty… I told you not to go, didn’t I?”

“Channniiieee…. I’m gonna,” you whimper, whining against his lips. “I’m cumming… oh fuck, I’m cumming…”

“so cute…” he cooed. “You disobeyed me, and look at where we’re at now.”

You tangle your fingers in his hair as you orgasm followed by a shudder.

What sounded like footsteps that were approaching closer and closer catches you off guard and it seemed to have a similar effect on him as well.

Sticking to your plan from earlier, you shove him off of you while he’s distracted trying to figure out who could be approaching and make a beeline for the exit. His back hits a table, eyes widening.

“Love you Channie!” You grinned and before he could grab you, you shut the two heavy metal doors in front of him.

He grumbled, pulling his pants back on and opening the door only to be met with a ghostface mask staring right back at him.

“Hey,” Jisung says as he rips the mask off him.

“The van’s parked outside, the other’s have been waiting for twenty fucking minutes.” He says but he only received a glare from his leader. “You look pissed. What the hell happened this time?”

“Change of plans,” Chan says as he picks up his knife and mask from the floor. “You guys go on ahead without me.”

“What?” Jisung scoffed. “You can’t just do that at the last minute. Look, we’ve been planning this shit for years, you can’t just back down ‘cause you can’t control your dick. The police are already on their way, and—!” Chan throws his knife, missing Han by a hair as it pierces through the portrait behind him. Han felt his breathing stop for a quick second.

“You had your fair share of fucking with your slut, so pipe down.”

Jisung glowered, hand tightening around the handle of his gun. “Don’t fucking call her that.” He says, but he knew better than to get into an argument with his boss.

“I’ll meet you guys tomorrow.” Chan slips his mask back on.

“I’m gonna go claim back what’s mine.”

a.n: ruh roh, alpha wolf chan is mad cs he didnt get to orgasm😕😕

and yall i get it, you want more skz ghostface content, im getting there okay😭

also pls lmk if you want me to make anime fics too, all ive been posting about are skz dhisbsje i can write genshin too. P.s all ghostface aus r connected, hyunjin is next methinks

#reader insert #stray kids #kpop scenarios #kpop x reader #x reader #stray kids smut #kpop smut #bang chan smut #bang chan x reader #ghostface au

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kitten4sannie · 2 months

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ꜱᴄᴘ: ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴᴍᴇɴᴛ ʙʀᴇᴀᴄʜ

ᴛᴇʀᴀᴛᴏᴘʜɪʟɪᴀ/ᴛᴀᴍɪɴɢ ➠ ꜱᴀɴ

pairing: past lover/SCP! san x researcher! reader (fem) feat. resaercher friend! mingi

genre: SCP au, horror elements, angst (there’s a hopeful ending i promise ;;), smut

summary: having seen everything under the sun as a researcher at the SCP foundation, you didn’t think much of SCP-1117. it wasn’t until he started appearing as your late husband that you couldn’t take your eyes off him.

w.c: 3.4k

warnings: past character death, ANGST (i’m telling you now…), hard dom! san, bratty sub! reader, brat taming, cnc, san’s a heartless monster here so yeahh, he also has monster features yk (sharp teeth, black eyes, monster cawk), dirty talk, degradation/name calling, brief tit play, brief spit play, restraints, choking, rough oral (giving), deep-throating, kissing, fingering, squirting, like…so much cum…, finger sucking, rough sex, mating press, dacryphilia, creampie

a/n: listen ik it’s filth fest okayy there’s def filth in this but i also used this one as an angst outlet so just know this one’s got a little kick to it,, im sorry my lovelies i just couldn’t help it </33

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ꜱɪᴍᴘʟᴇ ᴍᴀᴛʜ ʙʏ ᴋɪᴅ ꜱɪꜱᴛʀ

0:01 ❍─────── 4:28

Volume: ▁▂▃▄▅▆▇ 100%

ᴘʀᴇᴠ | ꜰꜰꜰ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ

SCP-1117 was a curious one. Neither you nor your coworkers knew what its true form looked like, due to its ability of morphing into whatever it pleased. You couldn’t quite figure out what it truly was either. It was simply an amalgamation of pure chaos. One that you found yourself being drawn to ever since it began to replicate your late husband’s image.

Was it to entice you? Punish you? You weren’t sure. What you were sure of was that you couldn’t bring yourself to escape from its clutches, remaining at work during the late night hours, always telling your coworkers that you were simply running tests on it, when in actuality, it was running tests on you. Testing how much pain and pleasure you could take. Testing how much it could take from you and give to you without completely swallowing you up.

Oh, how it would love to.

࿏࿏࿏

“Y/N, you shouldn’t be staying here so late…and you shouldn’t be around SCP-1117 so often. It’s too dangerous…” one of the researchers you were closest with told you in a hushed voice inside the hauntingly white, sterile hallway of the facility, placing a hand on your stiff shoulder, his fingers squeezing into your plain white lab coat, hints of coffee still on his breath.

“Thank you for worrying about me, Mingi,” you began softly, looking up at him past the smudged lenses of your glasses, taking a sip from your own cup of stale black coffee. “But I’m getting closer to a breakthrough. I need this…The foundation needs this.”

“We still don’t know what its intentions are though…What if you get hurt?” Mingi pushed, concern present within his hushed, though gravelly voice, studying you with his sad, deep-set eyes. He searched the pristine tile floor for something he couldn’t find, finding it even harder to look back up at you. “I feel like…ever since the passing…you’ve been…”

You offered him a gentle smile, reaching up to pat the side of his cheek, interrupting him, “Mingi, I’m fine, really. I just need something to focus on instead of the grief, and this is it.” Something inside you shifted, the edges of your facade fading for only a moment, causing you to push your glasses up past the slope of your nose. “Research is all I have left as of late.”

Mingi inhaled sharply, suddenly feeling like shit, causing him to bring you into a warm, tight hug, whispering into your shoulder, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. Please, do what helps you.” He squeezed you a little tighter, as if you would slip away from him at any second. “Just don’t forget, I’m here for you, Y/N. Night or day, I’m here.”

You stayed still inside his grasp, wanting to feel comfort from his gentle, loving touch, but instead feeling nothing at all. All you felt was the muddled memory of what love was to you. You heard it whispering into your mind and onto your skin, tormenting you with what you once had access to. “Thank you, Mingi,” you replied sincerely, slowly reaching your arms around him to hug him back, settling into his embrace. Before you even realized it, you had begun to hold him just as close, nuzzling his shoulder until your glasses fogged up.

Eventually, Mingi left you to your own devices, and you found yourself heading down to the basement floor, your high heels clacking loudly against the tile inside the large, empty hallway as you made your way to the entity’s room.

Once you pressed your keycard into the room’s security system, a small blue light flashed across your eyes, scanning your identity, before it let you into the vast, dark room.

Little by little, the plain room morphed into what used to be your late husband’s office, that in real life, was shut off from the rest of the world with a key, as you were never internally prepared to walk into a space that he had spent so much time inside. Here, it was perfectly clean and kept-up. Inviting. Warm, even. Not covered in thick layers of dust and shrouded in darkness, like in your reality. A reality you were relieved to have an escape from once again.

“You took so long to see me, honey. I’ve missed you dearly,” a deep, masculine voice called out to you, causing you to turn around and see your late husband sitting at his computer desk, wearing a coat similar to yours, his glasses slipping down his nose like they always did, a pout on his classically handsome, feline-like face.

“San, I’ve missed you too,” you called back, running over to him just as he got up from his computer chair, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Missed your touch.” It was then that you heard a slow, calculating chuckle ring out inside your ears. It sent a shiver right up your spine, your idyllic fantasy quickly falling apart at the seams like it always seemed to do.

“Oh, did you now? What did you miss, honey? My cock in your ass? Your throat? Or your wet little cunt?” he remarked filthily, the dark amusement inside his eyes reminding you that he was not your husband, and that this wasn’t the life you had. This was a cold, empty room, and you were in the arms of a nameless monster that wanted nothing more than to ruin you.

The feeling was mutual.

“I’ve missed it all. Need you,” you admitted hastily, opening San’s work shirt up to reveal his pretty, tan skin, simultaneously letting him push you back into the desk, watching him rip open your top, the buttons flying off and skidding across the floor.

“You’ll have me, slut. Relax.” San pulled your bra off, immediately encompassing your tits with his large, warm hands, squeezing them roughly and kneading them around, making you squeak. “Missed these tits of yours.”

“Yeah…? I bet you jerk off thinking about them when I’m gone. Pervert,” you tested him, hoping to provoke the beast, reaching down to grab his hardening cock through his tight work pants.

San sneered at you, showing off his sharpened teeth. “Why would I need to jerk off when you come here every night and willingly give me your holes to fuck as I please? Huh?” He lowered his mouth to your chest, spitting on one of your tits, before sucking on it sloppily, licking at your nipple with his forked tongue. “Or did you forget how fucking filthy you are?”

“Might need a reminder…”

“I forget just how truly mindless cock sluts are,” San mused to himself, flicking your other nipple roughly with his pointer finger, making you jolt from the sudden twinge of pleasurable pain. “I'll remind you, my dear.”

The entity suddenly swiped all the things off of his desk, from the large, ancient computer that your husband never wanted to get rid of because of the ‘lovely vintage aesthetic’ it apparently brought to his office, the various knickknacks he was never able to part with, from romantic poetry books he never got to read, to clay cats he made in the pottery class he begged you to join, knocking everything onto the floor so that he could place you onto it, with enough force that you felt a bit dizzy. With his hands pressed onto either side of the desk, San hovered over you, his now fully black eyes boring into your half closed ones, drool falling from his lips onto your flushed face. “Show me how wet you are, Y/N. Show me now.”

You obediently slid up your work skirt and lowered the lip of your panties, showing off your glistening, plump folds, your lips forming a playfully wicked smile. “Is that enough for you, 1117? Hm? Does it make your cock stiff?”

You both knew that you using his given name pissed him off more than anything, which led to him sending one of his fists straight through the desk near your shoulder, with so much ease, it was almost as if he was slicing through butter. You didn’t flinch, and he loved you for it. He loved his perfect little playtoy. You always knew how to press his buttons just right. Maybe that’s why he didn’t swallow you whole just yet. “You know, what does make my cock stiff is the thought of fucking that bratty mouth of yours until‌ you’re dripping drool and my load all over yourself…”

“Well, what are you waiting for, huh? I don’t have all night, you know. The morning crew comes in early,” you deadpanned, your heart hammering away inside your chest, your mind and body vibrating with an excitement that you haven’t felt since, well, the night before.

“I’m going to be cumming early too, when my cock’s ramming down your throat…” San climbed off of you and moved your body around to his will, so that you were laying on your back with your head hanging off of the desk. He ripped off his belt and looped it around your wrists, tightening it up until you whimpered. It was then that he pulled out his long, veiny cock, the tip of it dripping obscene globs of pre-cum onto your face, some of the saltiness getting on your lips. “Y/N, tell me, did your husband ever fuck and claim your throat for himself? Or did he do something disgusting like eat you out for your own sole pleasure instead?”

Visions of your late husband worshiping your body like a temple, with love in his eyes and praise on his lips, flashed across your mind, filling your stomach with lead, just as San, the monster, the entity that you couldn’t understand, filled your mouth and throat with his large, pulsing length, not giving you a chance to answer, instead snapping his hips forward.

“Oh my god, that’s it, right fucking there,” San groaned gutturally, closing his talons around the sides of your throat, watching the way his cock made an obscene bulge inside it each time he thrusted roughly into it, amused by the dribbles of spit escaping past your stretched lips. “Hey, do your coworkers know that you’re a whore for SCP-1117? Do they know that you study the way my balls hit your fucking face every time I thrust into this tight throat of yours?”

You gurgled noisily around his rapidly moving length, his salty pre-cum leaking into your mouth, not even having the ability to gag anymore from the amount of times that you’ve taken him inside, your throat already used to the shape of San’s enormous cock. “Mmmmfff…”

“Uh-huh, I know, baby. I know how much you love it,” San mused knowingly, reaching past your throat to rest one of his hands on the opposite edge of the table to thrust more easily into your tight throat, one hand already on your messy cunt, his talons returning to normal hands, a wedding band present on his ring finger, eagerly rubbing from your clit to your slit just to hear your juices squelching through his fingers. “I know how much you love being a hole for me.”

You spread your trembling thighs open, bucking your hips against his fingers, your moans sending pleasant vibrations onto his cock. It was when he stuffed your cunt full of his fingers that your moans were near constant, your eyes rolling up into your head, drool sliding up your face from the upside down position you were in, drops of it landing onto the floor near San’s black work shoes.

“Your pussy’s leaking so much, baby, did you know that? You must be really desperate for my cock, huh? Even though I pound you into a coma every single night? Are you that much of a brainless cum dump for me now?”

“Mm-hmm...!” Your thighs suddenly clenched around his rapidly moving hand, encouraging him to force them back open, most likely leaving a bruise on your sensitive skin.

San let out a significantly more pleasured groan than the rest that he was letting out, his cock throbbing deep inside your open throat, sweat dripping down the side of his temples, his hair starting to stick to his forehead, his wire glasses threatening to fall from his face. “You’re such a pathetic slut, god, it’s gonna make me fucking cum…”

Clear liquid suddenly gushed past San’s thick fingers, your muffled moans crescendoing into an equally muffled scream, your thighs going limp against the now slippery desk. You closed your eyes, and for a second, you saw your real husband standing at his desk, proudly holding up one of his crudely painted clay cats for you to see, showing you his pretty dimpled smile and sparkling, affectionate gaze.

It was then that San tore you away from your brief blissful memory, bringing you back to reality with his wet hands closing back around your bruising neck, his throbbing cock rammed completely down your contracting throat. “Go on, do what you do best and drink it all for me, baby,” he purred, just as he unleashed load after load into your mouth, some of it spilling out and dripping along your sweaty face and into your hair.

You simply laid there, still trembling, your wrists straining against your leather restraints, doing your best to swallow the endless amount of cum down without choking on it. It was so much that you almost found yourself beginning to pass out from the lack of oxygen, too busy guzzling down cum to breathe, your brain and fingertips growing tingly. How nightmarish would it be for the morning crew to come to find you passed out in SCP-1117’s room, your body covered in squirt and semen. Though it couldn’t be much more of a nightmare than the one you were already living in.

Once San’s balls were sufficiently drained in that moment, he slowly pulled out of your throat and mouth with a lewd pop, lifting up your practically lifeless body and flipping you around so that you were on your back again and gazing up at him. His face had grown more monstrous, his curled, sharp teeth starting to grow into his cheeks like they were sewn into his flesh, his glasses now gone, his eyes, like portals to an abyss you couldn’t seem to look away from, unintelligible symbols carved into the skin of his neck and collarbone. “What’s wrong, honey? You look frightened. Is something the matter?” he asked with faux concern, a deep chuckle emanating from his tattooed throat.

“Shut up and fill me with cock, already, 1117,” you sighed, reaching up to rub the cum from your glasses the cloth of your shirt, simply smearing it around instead.

Growling animalistically, San grabbed onto your hips, sinking his sharpened nails into your skin enough to elicit a small whimper from your lips, positioning his hardened cock against your cunt, rubbing his cockhead along it, just teasing your slit, instead of actually giving you what you wanted. “You’re just asking for it, you goddamn brat. You’re lucky I love fucking your whore hole this much or else I would’ve eaten you up a long time ago…You’d be so…tasty…”

Just as San began to drool on you again, you reached your restrained hands up so that you could have your wrists resting behind the monster’s neck, his overheated body impossibly close to yours. “Eat me up, 1117,” you whispered near his lips, catching his mouth against yours when he lunged forward, his split tongue slipping over yours and down your throat.

San pushed himself inside the tight heat of your cunt, immediately getting to work, pistoning himself in and out of you like a well-oiled machine, having no plans of stopping until he was pumping monstrous amounts of cum into your womb.

You sucked and licked at his long, agile tongue the best you could, watching strings of saliva spread in between your panting, parted mouths when San pulled back. “Fuck me harder,” you demanded, choking on your spit when San rubbed his fingers roughly into your clit, watching him bring his fingers up to your lips, taking them inside to suck your arousal off of them.

“Relax, little slut. You already know I always fuck you within an inch of your life.” San suddenly brought his legs up onto the desk, using his obscene strength to easily position the both of your bodies so that he had you in a mating press, thrusting viciously into your hot, leaking cunt.

Your already loud moans began to grow even louder, threatening to somehow escape the soundproof room. You couldn’t do anything but take everything San gave you, his thick, impossibly large cock drilling so roughly into your squelching cunt, he punched a prolonged, breathy whine out of you each time. “S-aaaan, pleaseee…!”

“Please, what? Don’t tell me you forgot how to use your words. Is it because I’m in your guts, baby? Is that why?” San began to laugh evilly near your ear, his tongue slithering past his curled lips to lick the salty tears that began to drip down your cheeks. He thrusted once more, this time feeling your squirt dripping in between your sticky bodies, driving him to fuck you even harder than before, the desk slamming roughly into the side of the wall over and over. “Is that your squirt leaking all over my cock? Fuck, you always cum so hard when I use you like this…Makes me wanna cum too…Gonna fill your womb with my load, Y/N. It won’t stop dripping out of you until tomorrow night when I fill you up again, and again, and again.”

It was then that you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t move. You tossed your head back, getting lost in a bout of boundless ecstasy, finding yourself back in your husband’s office. This time, he brought you into his arms, enveloping you in his comforting warmth and scent, his kind eyes focused on your face. You couldn’t hear the words for yourself, but you saw his lips moving. ‘I love you.’ That was all you could ask for these days. Just a glimpse. Just a taste of what once was yours.

You were once again brought back to reality by the entity, his heavy, twitching body pressing fully against yours, filling your cunt up with an unending amount of cum, some of it having to spill out, drops of it hitting the ground.

San gazed down at you, his jaw appearing to be completely unhinged, long, jagged teeth curling downwards, easily able to crush you up until nothing remained, his large black eyes now multiplied like an arachnid, still staring deep into yours, seeing his own reflection in them. He stayed still, like he was debating on consuming your flesh and bones — though….if he did that, then his fun would be over. Without another word, San pulled your restraints off and climbed off of you, his horrific, vaguely familar form staying long enough for him to say, “Until tomorrow, Y/N.”

It was then that he disappeared, along with San’s office, leaving you cold and alone inside the seemingly empty room. Having been through this routine time and time again, you walked over to a locker in the corner, putting on a fresh set of clothes, fixing your hair and makeup in the small mirror that sat inside the locker, not looking at it long enough to realize that there were still tears escaping your bloodshot eyes.

You pressed your keycard to the door once more, the system repeatedly leaving a flash of red over your skin until you opened your blurry eyes wide enough so that the blue light could scan them and let you out of the room. Once you were back inside the empty, sterile hallway, you walked to the opposite hall, your heels clacking against the floor along the way, your hands inside your coat pockets.

It wasn’t until you made it to the elevator that you found yourself falling to your knees, not having enough strength to make it inside. Why you did this to yourself over and over was a mystery. Maybe it was the simple fact that you could still visit some version of your husband, even if he was a soulless monster. Maybe it was because you would rather punish yourself, than take the time to heal from what you lost. You weren’t very sure. What you were sure of was that you stayed in the dark long enough to see that there was always light on the other side. You were ready to crawl towards it.

It was then that the elevator dinged, the doors sliding open to reveal who was inside. Mingi stood there, his worried expression morphing into one of conflict, some sort of relief mixed with grief.

“Sorry, Min, I just…I couldn’t help it…I’m sorry…” you whispered softly, unable to speak more when he simply lifted you off of the ground into his arms. He held you tight, his warm body encompassing yours, reminding you of the person that was always with you, even if you couldn’t see him. He was there through the heartbreak, through the emptiness, through the fullness, the pain, the pleasure, the grief. He was there through it all, just a thought away. Even though he was gone in a way, he had never left you to begin with, and you knew that now.

You knew.

“Let me take you home, Y/N,” Mingi spoke up, gently carding his fingers through your hair.

“Okay,” you sighed softly, leaning your head against his shoulder, hearing your late husband’s soft voice whisper something into your mind. “Mingi?”

“Yeah?”

With your gentle eyes creasing at the corners, you gave your dear friend a smile filled with warmth, a smile that the love of your life offered you time and time again, your shoulders feeling just a little lighter in that moment. You thought about the clay cats, about how they should be cherished again. “When we get there, can you help me find the key for San’s home office? There’s something I want to show you.”

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#cultofdionysusnet #cromernet #wonderlandnet #ateez #ateez san #san #san x reader #san smut #choi san #ateez fic #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic

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daddyfordaeddy · 2 months

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Pairing: Businessman! San x wife! Reader

Word Count: 1887

Warnings: cursing, none otherwise (smut warnings under cut)

Genre: smut, fluff, rated M for mature, established relationship au, office au

Summary: After delivering lunch to your husband's office, the two of you get a little sidetracked.

Smut warnings: fingering, oral (male & female receiving), unprotected sex (wrap before tap guys🔫), wall/window sex, dirty talk, some degradation (whore, slut, being desparate), felch...ing (i think that's the right term?), cum play, semi-public sex (or its public...they're in san's private office during work hours), some petnames (silly girl because i discovered i have a new kink)

I'm only doing a couple of the February Filth Fest, and this is day/track 21! aphrodisiacs/overstimulation, and i chose the latter! i hope you don't mind how questionable this is lol i wrote it practically in a day

And if you want to know what other days I'm doing? You'll just have to wait and see ;)

“San, I brought you lunch,” you call as you open the door to your husband’s office. “Are you busy?”

Your husband, sharp as ever in a tailored Brioni suit, turns to greet you with his million-watt smile as he opens his arms to wrap you in a hug. You eagerly close the door behind you and set down the bag of food as you embrace him, giggling as he lifts you up to spin you around and press his face into the crook of your neck.

“I’m never too busy for you, love,” San hums. “Will you join me for lunch?”

You nod, leaning over to open up the bag. “I brought pork belly soup and rice with some kimchi. I did buy you coffee but I drank it on the way up.” San snorts, slapping your butt gently in retaliation and you giggle. You turn to swat his hands away when you drop a fork. “Ah, shit.”

You bend down, reaching out for the fork, when hands grab your hips and pull you towards him until your ass bumps against San’s hips. “Oh–” you squeak, twisting around in San’s grip to stare wide-eyed at his now-darkened gaze. The two of you have plenty of sex at home, but you’ve never seen such a quick response to you doing a simple motion such as bending down. “San?”

“I hope you’re not too hungry, (Y/N),” San sighs, his hands wandering up your hips to wrap around your waist and tug you impossibly closer, fingers dipping into the waistband of your skirt. “I don’t think I can let you look this good without ravishing you.”

“I– but your desk is so clean,” you fret, glancing at the neat papers all lined up. “I don’t want to mess that up.”

San hums, looking you up and down. And in one swift motion, he grasps your thighs and hoists you up, setting you against his crotch. You gasp and grab at his back, grabbing onto the suit jacket and hooking your legs against him. “San!”

San grins wolfishly at you, adjusting his grip as he carries you over to the window wall overlooking the city. “Come on baby, let me love you like you deserve. It's a one-way glass, but honestly, everyone deserves to see how beautiful you are for me.” As he speaks, he presses your back against the cool glass and you whine a little as the shirt you’re wearing has an open back.

San fumbles with his pants before finally pulling out his already hard cock and pressing it against your panties, letting it rub against the soft fabric. “San” you moan, already gushing slick and soaking your underwear “you’re going to get tired.” You’re protesting half-heartedly, excited to see where this is going. San rarely is this risky with you, and you’re almost ashamed to admit it’s turning you on.

“Silly girl,” he groans, leaning forward until his nose is just barely brushing against yours. “For you, I couldn’t get enough of this. Just as long as I am near you, that’s all I need.” He punctuates his sentence with a long kiss to your lips and you groan into the kiss.

Without you even noticing, his hand pushes aside your ruined panties and he presses into your tight heat with a loud groan. “So tight for me,” he groans into your mouth, biting and tugging at your lower lip as his hips slowly thrust deeper and deeper into you. He’s burning hot inside of you, and you whine at the feeling, pressing your lips to his in a feverish kiss.

“Shit,” you whine as he finally bottoms out, your ass flush against his hips as he grinds into you. “You’re so fucking big, San.” Your nails are digging into his back, the pain making San groan and his cock twitch inside of you.

He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, biting, nipping, and licking at your skin as his hips work himself into you. When his teeth sink fully into the junction of your shoulder you can hardly hold back a scream of pleasure. “San, please,” you’re already begging and it’s only been a few minutes. But the way he’s stretching you out so deliciously makes you lose your mind. You clench around him, shifting in his hold just to try and work him into you the way you like it.

“Fuck, look at you, (Y/N). Already desperate for my cock,” San growls into your ear, pressing you even more into the glass window. “Do you off to it? The idea that people could look up and see just how much of a whore you are for me?”

With every word, he thrusts up into you and you’re a little embarrassed at how quickly you come, arching your back and letting your head rest against the cool glass as ecstasy washes over you in waves.

“Already so done?” San smirks, carrying you back to his desk and sitting at the chair, you still in his lap and his hard cock still spearing deep inside you, making you whine. “Such a mess for me, God, you’re so perfect for me.”

Your lips press against his feverishly as you moan into his mouth, letting your tongue flick out against his lips. “So full,” you mutter against his mouth. “Fuck– you’re splitting me open so well, Sannie.” You wriggle your hips down, squeezing around him and he comes with a broken moan. The cum inside of you is searing hot but you can’t get enough of it, grinding down onto him to try and milk the last bit out of him.

To your surprise, his erection has not gone down a bit, and San’s lips pull into a crooked smile as his eyes narrow. “I hope you know you’re not done quite yet. Only one orgasm? That’s just sad.” His hips kick up a bit as he speaks, and you moan from the overwhelming feeling. It’s almost painful, but that’s what you’re obsessed with.

But before either of you can continue, a knock sounds at the door and San quickly lifts you off his dick and you slide to the floor under the desk. “Come in,” San calls out, voice a little rough, and he clears his throat. His pants are still unzipped and his hard cock is just waiting for you.

Your eyes flick up to him and he’s not focusing on you, so you reach out and brush against the glistening head of his dick. His hand almost immediately comes down to drip at your hair and you can’t hold back a smirk before dipping your head down to kiss his dick. YOu can hear San choking on his words and his hands tighten but something overcomes you and you only sink deeper onto his dick.

The heavy weight resting on your tongue makes it hard for you to contain your noises and you press your tongue to the underside of his cock. San’s trying his best to stay collected as he talks business and meetings, but you can feel his dick twitch every time you swallow around him and something about it drives you crazy.

Without warning, San pushes your head down on his dick even further and your hands grip his thighs as your eyes roll back in your head. It’s only now you realise his cum inside you is slowly dripping out alongside his arousal. Your mind is swirling with so many thoughts that when his cock hits the back of your throat and his grip tightens even more, your eyes widen before ropes of cum shoot down your throat and you come in your panties with a quiet moan.

“What was that?”

Your eyes snap open at the question and San’s voice is tight as he tries to evade suspicion. “Ah– I think the aircon is messed up. I’ll have to- ah, talk to maintenance about that. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to finish my lunch.”

The employee apologises and leaves. As soon as the door clicks, San pushes back, letting his cock fall out of his mouth and he raises a single eyebrow at you. “Just couldn’t get enough, huh?” he sneers, although his eyes are raking over your body. “Come here.”

You stand with wobbly legs before making your way over to him. “I–” You don’t even get a chance to say anything when he grabs your waist and spins you around, before pushing you down onto his desk. “San!” you scold as he flips your skirt up to reveal your ass.

“Fuck, look at you,” he growls, his hand coming to cup your clothed cunt. “Soaking right through your underwear like the slut you are. Sucking my dick in front of my secretary? What, did you want him to join us?”

“No,” you whine, “I just wanted you.”

San chuckles, low in his throat, before pulling your underwear down in one motion. Your sopping cunt stares him right in the eye, and if you look down, you can see strings of your slick and his cum connecting the fabric to your pussy. And before you can blink, San’s mouth attaches itself to your pussy. “Ah–” you gasp and squeeze your eyes shut. You’re so sensitive from your previous two orgasms, you don’t know if you can take another one. But San’s not stopping, licking greedily into you like he’s never eaten a meal before in his life.

“You taste so good,” he groans, vibrations making you moan as your legs shake from the overstimulation. The only reason you haven’t fallen to the ground yet is San’s hands holding you up. His tongue presses into your folds and one of his hands lifts from your ass. You’re about to complain when a harsh pain shoots through you and you whimper as he spanks you again for good measure.

“San!” You gasp again, looking back to see San meeting your eyes with a wicked grin as he bites at your thigh. “Fuck–”

“Come for me, silly girl,” San rumbles again and you close your eyes as you let your body weight drop, San’s grip still on your waist as he mouths at your pussy just as desperately as he was teasing you about. You’re pretty sure your underwear is ruined now, but that hardly seems important with San pushing his come and your release back into you with his tongue.

“Shit, ah, too much, Sannie,” you whine, feeling finally coming back to your legs although they still feel a bit like jelly. “Come on, you still gotta eat lunch, you big idiot.”

With a sigh, San stands, helping you up as well. His mouth and chin are shining and you laugh to yourself as you pull him to you so you can kiss him. The taste of both you and him as you sighing. “I’ll see you at home,” San hums, his voice dazed as if he just went to another dimension and back.

“Mmh, yup. It’ll be a pot roast tonight. Don’t stay out too late and,” you cast a glance at his untouched lunch, “you’ll probably have to reheat that.”

San chuckles, wiping his chin with his hand and licking off the last bits of come. “Yeah, yeah. I love you, baby.”

“Love you too.”

@cultofdionysusnet

#cultofdionysusnet #kvanity #pirateeznet #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez san #san fanfiction #san fanfic #san smut #san x reader #joongfryefff24

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getodrools · 3 months

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𐙚 GIVE ME A “D”: TOJI FUSHIGURO!

IN WHICH, cheer coach! toji has to teach the cute bimbo of the team how to arch and stretch better…

I 𝓲. I MDNI ୨୧ f! reader. hcs and pov. college au. dub con-ish: he’s vv touchy and reader is oblivious. age gap: reader; early 20s, toji; 40s. public sex: under the bleachers. size difference. spanking: x1. overstimulation. | WC –> 1.0k+ est ! !

NOTE. this is a repost from my old blog !! :p

⟡ | CHEER COACH! TOJI who watches closely from afar while smacking on some—now flavorless gum as you stretch with your crew in the green fields; watching how those sparkly little uniforms wrap and stretch with your body that flows in routine. the teasing thin and sheer skirt flapping up and exposing your perk ass in those tight blue shorts stopping right at the cup of your bottom...

⟡ | CHEER COACH! TOJI who blows his whistle hard; chest puffing out in annoyance every time your footing is just off by a sliver, making the excuse to slide a firm hand across your lower back. forcing a bow to form at the rough correction; his groin almost bumping close to you when you land – landing with off footing, pushing the larger man to wrap tone arms around your sides to help balance you out, even feeling the tight squeeze he grasps with; it's almost bruising...

⟡ | CHEER COACH! TOJI who scoffs out how much he has to help you out and remind you what you're doing wrong, but that cute little look you perk up at him with... he just couldn't stay mad. and you listen to the older man school you and fondle with your body into different positions ‘til you are almost puppy-eyed. it makes him sigh, giving you another chance and telling you to stretch more before doing more stunts...

⟡ | CHEER COACH! TOJI who finally had enough after witnessing you forget basic routine; doing the wrong move and repeating another and it makes him finally gruff out, “stay after, you need extra practice.” and as the other girls gather their things before leaving; watching with a sulk and hunch you might get kicked off the team, you wait with a twisted stomach...

“now, lift your leg-- like this.”

a firm hand digs deep into the thick of your thigh. lifting your leg with ease and holding you into place as toji bends his own to get a different, yet deeper angle. he uses his free hand to swat a cruel hit against the globe of your ass, forcing a wanted whine out of you,

“yes! coach!” your lower body tingled. almost numb at the rough skin-to-skin clashing with sweat between…

unconsciously and practically whorish, you rut harder back into your coach's tight hold. feeling your slick walls stretching and molding to his length; how his cock pokes and prods at the wet heat between your legs so deliciously.

“see-- fuck, it's not that hard.” toji groans as he draws his cock out; leaking tip never leaving before fucking himself back in swiftly. filling you to the hilt with each languid stroke as he does.

it was almost pitiful how he made you practically tremble beneath him. how pitiful you were to mindlessly follow him beneath the bleachers for extra practice… and how mr. fushiguro even told you're pitiful self that this was the best way to relax all of your muscles to make stretching easier in the future.

it was working too—well, your body was getting looser, almost dangling off from his like some wet rag.

at each bounce, he thrusted you forward with a jolting shock of a need for mercy. the teetering fill of his cock in your tummy brought stars to your eyes and almost made you want to cry out in overstimulation. but the ache building up made you only grip harder against the rails to keep taking the sauntering man in deeper. toji couldn't help himself either, almost growling at the clench you clamp down with; spongy walls sucking him in and creaming a translucent, milky ring at the base of his cock…

this pretty view made the man suck in hard. teeth gritting together. almost as if you knew those green and preying eyes always followed yours, making this clashing to be more lustful and impatient.

as if you always knew how his confines got stiff when you would stretch with your team. he'd stare, hard, practically ogling at you during stunts.

as if you knew the amount of times he had to walk away and jerk one-off in his office from the pure sight of you jumping around; tits and ass jiggling in your uniform. only for that pretty smile to be the topping of it all.

so innocent...

but so stupid.

<– BACK: PINNED ౨ৎ NEXT: MORE TOJI –>

#🌐 𝐿𝒜𝒱𝐼𝐼 𝒲𝑅𝐼𝒯𝐸𝒮!#ᝰ toji fushiguro!#tw dub con #tw age gap #tw size difference #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk smut #toji fushiguro #jjk toji #toji x reader #jujutsu kaisen #toji smut

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ilovenatasharomanoff2-0 · 5 months

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Hey, can I request an intersex Nat where she accidentally got R pregnant? And then she decided to hide the baby from Nat because she didn't want to burden Natasha or something (idk, you can change the reason), and then 5 years later, Nat was shocked to find R with a child. She did a computation and some research to know that it was her child too! Fluffy ending, please? Sorry for rambling, I just love single mother AUs rn and idk why?? Thank youuu!!

It's never over.

Warnings: y/s/n (your son's name), unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, praise kink

Pairings: Intersex Natasha x fem reader

Word count: 2.5k

A/n: It has actually been a hot minute since I posted. I'm sorry, but I'm ready for this writing grind to return. This fic is my apology. I'm getting to it if I didn't get to your request. Trust me, I've seen it and probably already started writing it.

"Fuck baby, I don't have a condom," Natasha tells you while hurriedly taking off her shirt.

You moaned quietly and muttered, "It's fine." Your hands go to Natasha's sweatpants to pull them down. "Just pull out, okay?"

Natasha lets out a low groan in reply to you, and her hands promptly find their way to your bra. In one swift mention, your bra was unclasped and thrown somewhere in the dimly lit bedroom.

Her hand soon came up to your face, tracing your face. Her eyes were glued on you, on how beautiful you were. Her face comes intact with your neck, kissing you slowly. Her lips dragged down and down. Soon, meeting your pelvis. Her head slowly moved back up to look at you. "So pretty baby, love you so much," she muttered. Her fingers traced down your body 'till they got to your clothed cunt. Her middle and index finger glided over your clit, and a soft whine erupted from your mouth.

"Please, Tasha, need you."

"Yeah, baby? I got you, okay?" She murmured out to you. A small kiss was left on your forehead. Natasha's two fingers pulled your panties to the side. Her attention was now on your pussy.

"So wet for me." Her lips curled upwards, forming a proud smirk. She didn't even do anything to you, and she had you dripping.

Her fingers dipped themselves in your hole, and a small gasp left your mouth. You threw your head against the pillow that lay beneath your head.

"Look at me, y/n, how good I'm making you feel." She mutters out to you, immediately drawing her fingers away from your cunt.

"Need your fingers, please." You moan out to her, your head shooting back up to see her in front of you, her two fingers up to her mouth to taste you.

"Taste so fucking good." she sighs out to you. "Need my fingers, baby? How bad do you need them?"

"Really bad, Natasha." Your hips start to buck forward, trying to relieve that ache you had in your core.

Natasha's hand comes to your hips, pushing them back down into the bed. You know you can't do anything about it. She's so much more potent than you. A force of one hand has your hips pinned down.

"Sorr-" Your plead is cut short when you feel her fingers entirely make their way into you. A languid yelp leaves your mouth. Your head shoots back once more.

"Feels good, huh? Bet my cock will feel better, though."

You can't respond back to her, too focused on her fingers that are curling in you. Her fingers pump faster, lewd sounds of your wetness caving the room, echoing every now and then.

Natahsa's free hand moves up to your clit, circling the bud just like she did before.

"So good, Nat, don't stop p-please."

"'M not gonna stop, baby."

As you lay, you feel the muscles in your legs tense up, and your feet shift slightly as your legs come together, creating a subtle but noticeable closure.

"You close y/n?" She whispers in your ear, her body leaning onto you ever so slightly, but enough to feel her hard-on press onto you.

Your voice quivers as you let out a mournful "Mhm." You reach out and grasp her shoulder, fingers digging into her skin. The pressure of your grip is tight, as if you're trying to hold on to something slipping away.

As you near your high, Natasha pulls her fingers out of you. A high-pitched sob leaves your mouth. "N-no, Natasha."

"Shh, it's okay, my love. I gonna make you feel so much better." She mumbles out to you. Her body moves off of you and onto her knees. The tent in her boxers is more noticeable than it was before. Your gaze is fixated on the intricate network of veins coursing down her pelvis, descending further and further out of sight.

She let out a low groan as she moved her boxers down, sliding them off and tossing them somewhere in the room. Her cock sprung out of the piece of clothing, precum leaked from her tip.

"So fucking hard for you, baby, I just want to feel your pussy so bad."

A shattered breath left your mouth as you heard Natahsa's explicit words. Her hand slowly moved up and down on her cock, lowering her head down to use her spit as lube.

She slowly inched her hips closer to you, grabbing ahold of her hard cock. Her tip rubbed in between your folds, teasing for a few more minutes.

"Already feel so good." She sputters, her tip finally coming down to your hole. She takes her time easing into you, her eyes looking at how your pussy takes in all of her cock.

Once Natasha had bottomed out in you, she stilled her hips, giving you time to adjust to her length. "Tell me when I can move, baby, okay?" She softly tells you.

After a few minutes of waiting, you finally adjusted to her.

"O-okay, I'm ready, Nat."

Natasha needs to hear no more, her hips thrusting rhythmically.

"Th-that feels good, Tasha." Your breathing is labored. You can feel the deliberate slowness and shallowness of Natasha's thrusts, as though she is deliberately holding back from unleashing her full power upon you. It's as though she is carefully testing your limits, teasing you with the promise of what could come if she let go.

"Can I do this?" She asks, her eyes filled with anticipation. Her back straightens, and her hands move ever so sneakily, reaching out to grab your thighs.

The silence in the room was palpable, broken only by the sound of a small head slowly nodding.

Her hands pushed your thighs back for a better angle. Her thrusting resumes and her cock hits new depths. Loud moans left your mouth as Natasha's hips grew in speed, her cock aimlessly hitting the spot that you love.

The way you clenched around her had her in a trance. The grip she had on your thighs tightened. A grunt came out of her mouth, and she snapped her hips faster into you. Your hands were trying to search for a place for stability.

"So fucking tight and warm, y/n. C-could be in you forever." She moans out to you.

"Fuck, I'm close, nat." a whine left your mouth as you closed your eyes and focused on all of the pleasure.

"Let me cum inside y/n, please."

You quickly nodded, trying to hide the knot that was forming in your stomach. The overwhelming feeling of unease made it hard to process anything else.

"Gonna cum!"

"Comon, do it, my love, cum for me." She reassures you. You can tell she's close to releasing by how her hips start to, for their own pace, a rhythm. With a few more strong thrusts from Natasha's hips, your orgasm came crashing down. Your back arched off of the bed as you felt Natasha shoot her load into you.

She lays down on top of you and catches her breath. She quickly rolls off of you and moves herself next to you on the suitable bed. Her side is slightly turned so she can look at your face.

"Did so good for me y/n." You feel her soft breath on your face as she leans in and gently presses her lips to your forehead, letting out a soft murmur.

You couldn't help but smile as you turned to face Natasha. She slowly lifted herself off you, her eyes fixed on yours as if trying to decipher your thoughts.

After standing up, she gracefully slips back into her boxers, her every move exuding confidence and poise. She walks into your bathroom with purpose, her eyes scanning the room until she spots a towel, which she swiftly grabs and wets under the tap. She returns to you, her gaze unwavering, and gently cleans you up with the damp towel, her soothing and reassuring touch.

As you lay on your bed, you hear a soft call of "Y/nnn." Turning your head, you see her standing there, a smile forming as she catches your gaze. Closing your eyes, you feel her hands gently cleaning you up, making you feel refreshed and cared for. Soon after, she hops onto the bed and wraps her arms around you from behind, holding you close in a warm embrace. It's a moment of comfort and intimacy that makes you feel safe and loved.

As you were lost in thought, you were suddenly jolted back to reality by boisterous laughter. You quickly checked your phone to see a message, only to find your son standing before you with a half-eaten Rice Krispie treat in his hand.

"Hey, buddy!" You bellowed out to him. His face lit up as he heard you talking to him.

He looks up at you with a beaming smile and says, "Hi, mama!" His little hands reach up toward you despite your close proximity, signaling his desire to be held in your embrace.

You bend down slightly to pick him up, even more laughter erupting from his tiny body. You quickly pick up the phone you put on the counter to take a picture of y/s/n. Your eyes get lost in the notification on your screen. You quickly forget about it and take a picture of the both of you in your matching Patagonia jackets, hoping you could post it to your Instagram later.

As you set him down on the ground, you turn to him and ask, "Would you like to go get some ice cream?" With a quick nod, he excitedly runs towards the door, nearly stumbling over the scattered toys that litter the floor. You can't help but chuckle at the sight as you make your way over to the accent table where your car keys are displayed.

As you two drove, the car was filled with the loud beats of y/s/n's favorite YouTube music, his laughter growing increasingly raucous as he found something particularly amusing. After a few minutes, we arrived at the ice cream shop, but getting y/s/n out of his seatbelt proved difficult due to all the kicking and squirming.

As you both stepped out of the car, you noticed the small ice cream shop across the street. You helped him out of the car and walked towards the shop. As you entered the tiny shop, the aroma of freshly made waffle cones filled your nostrils. The colorful display of ice cream flavors made your little companion's eyes widen with excitement. He carefully picked out his favorite flavor and waited patiently for you to pay. As you handed over the money, his tiny head looked up at you with gratitude and back at his ice cream, watching it drip from the cone onto his hand. The sound of his happy slurping filled the air as you both savored the moment.

Walking around the ice cream, you turn to your son and say, "Come on, let's find a table." You take his hand and navigate the large crowd, scanning for an available booth. Suddenly, the sound of the front door opening catches your attention. You freeze when you see the girl who just walked in. She looks familiar, like someone you used to know. She stands tall with a confident posture and a mess of long red hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. A few strands fall across her face, framing her sharp features. Dressed in a sleek compression shirt and shorts, she just came from the gym.

As you both stand in the ice cream shop, your eyes meet with a woman scanning the room. Suddenly, her gaze locks onto yours, and you feel a jolt of electricity pass between you. Her eyes slowly drift down to the child standing next to you, and she can't help but notice the resemblance between them. You're unsure what to do, but you feel frozen in place as you stare at each other. When your child tugs at your pants, reminding you that his ice cream is melting, you snap out of your trance and slowly start to move away.

"Mommy, ice cream!" he says loud enough for the girl you know to hear you.

"O-okay, y/s/n, follow me." You quickly find a table. As soon as you sit down, your son is on his tablet, watching PBS Kids to entertain him. And that's when you finally remember it was Natasha. She has changed a lot since you saw her 4 years ago.

Before you can get together to talk to her, she's already at your table. Your son quickly looks up at her and looks back down; his attention is on the ice cream and TV show.

"Y/n?" She whispered out to you. Her voice sounded the same, just as you remembered.

"Hi Natasha, I know that thi-"

"You have a kid now?" Her voice is a little shaky now; if you have to be honest, you feel bad for her. And now that you're face to face with her you start to regret your actions.

You stayed silent for a minute trying to find the right response to tell Natasha.

"Why didn't you tell me y/n? I've waited so long for you."

"I...I don't know Natasha." Our hands touch your face, rubbing it harshly, trying to process what was happening.

"Is he mine, Y/n?" You could tell her nervousness, her breath quickening as she awaited your response. The only thing you could do was nod your head up and down.

"have a seat, Nat." She hesitates momentarily before slowly taking a seat, her mind racing with mixed emotions. The air around you is tense as you wait for her to speak.

"You know I wanted to tell you."

"Why didn't you then? I was never able to get over you, y/n."

"I guess I...I guess I was too scared, Natasha. I didn't want you to ghost me, and I felt like a burden like you wouldn't want to be with me anymore." You looked down at the table, trying to hide your watering eyes from Natasha.

You feel her body shifting gently as she moves closer to you. Her arm gracefully wraps itself around your back and pulls you in closer. You respond to her embrace, feeling your entire body pressing against hers with a sense of comfort and warmth.

"I don't think you are a burden. I would've been so happy if you told me we would have a kid together. You know that I will always love you."

You do a slow nod into her chest. Natasha's face turns every once in a while, looking at the toddler across from her.

"What's his name?"

"Y/s/n. It made me think of you when I first gave birth to him."

Natasha's delicate fingers gently touch your chin, lifting your face towards hers. As you meet her gaze, a radiant smile spreads across her lips, illuminating her face with a warm glow.

"Do you wanna come back home with me, Nat?" you whisper just loud enough for her to hear.

"Yeah, actually. I want to catch up with you and my son."

You find yourself unable to do anything but return the smile of the person in front of you. As you gaze into her eyes, a flood of memories from your past together comes rushing back. You feel a sense of excitement and anticipation for the new chapter that is about to unfold in your life.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x female #natasha x y/n #natasha romanov #marvel #natasha x reader #marvel smut

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mamoonde · 10 months

Text

thinking about a canon div au where lwj goes to yunmeng jiang the summer after gusu lectures, walks in just in time to see a sweaty half-naked wwx, his dirtied training robe left hanging around his waist where it's tucked into his trousers and belt, tousling with equally sweaty and dirty junior disciples (only a handful of them are in equal states of undress).

wwx spots him half a minute later, right after demonstrating the proper archery stance to another disciple. the moment he does, he blinks, then brightens, dropping the bow to make his way towards lwj.

all six feet (how is he suddenly so tall?!) of him, sunkissed skin, toned chest and stomach bare and gleaming with sweat.

lwj can hardly breathe. his right hand is a tight fist behind his back. he imagines his frayed tether to his sanity in his desperate grip.

wwx is in his usual teasing lwj mode, especially now that he's a solid 2 inches taller than lwj (for at least the summer), back turned to his silly shidis shooting kites, revelling in lwj's attention—

his hand moves before he can think, snatching the arrow in midair an arm's length from them.

lwj had been so preoccupied he hadn't even noticed it before wwx had suddenly turned and seemingly plucked it out of thin air.

wwx clicks his tongue. "watch it, guys; i can't have lan zhan thinking i'm a crappy teacher!" he chucks the arrow as though it were a spear, where it lands dead center at a target.

lwj desperately recites the gusu lan precepts about restraint and proper conduct in his head. mostly, he would like to – needs to – lie down.

"but you are a crappy teacher!" one of the disciples retorted. "you all but left us for dead the moment you saw some handsome gongzi!"

"what, am i supposed to choose you stinky lot over a handsome er-gege?!" wwx snorts then turns back to lwj with a grin.

please don't notice my traitorous body, please, please, please, lwj prays desperately.

"sorry about that, lan zhan! these guys still only hit about half the kites—oh? do my eyes deceive me?" wwx leans closer, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

before lwj can step back to safety, wwx's hand grazes the tips of his ears. end me now.

"my poor dear lan-er-gege, has the yunmeng sun already given you sunburn? your ears are as red as my hair ribbon!" wwx cackles, then grasps his sleeve, tugging him towards the pavilions. "don't you worry, i'll take good care of you, lan zhan! shijie should know where to get salves to soothe the stings."

lwj swallows, wanting to collapse right there and then if that wouldn't only add to his mortification. he eyes the lakes. maybe if he could just stay there the entire summer...

#mo dao zu shi #wangxian #mamoonde fics #mdzs au #mdzs fic #wwx #lwj #an old video of some baseball guy catching a wayward ball while in the middle of an interview made me write this #me 🤝 lwj lying down on the ground very dead #crossposted on twt

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ghouljams · 5 months

Note

The Android!Ghost au you’ve talked about is giving « the guy is actually more of a heavily modified human (probably against his will too) than a complete android » and I’m living for this kind of stuff. Please, let’s keep talking about it.

:3c Ghost in the Shell(1995)-core

You've always been more at home with androids than with regular people. They're not as loud, they don't ask prodding questions, you know exactly where you stand with them. They don't care that you'd rather be in your workshop than... wherever normal people go when they're bored. You work on one of the heavy mechs during your lunch break. The bot hands tools up to you while you sit on its shoulder, its huge fingers delicately holding your rivet gun as you try to avoid breaking out the welding machine. It's not looking good.

"It's really stuck on here XG-9," You tell the mech, listening to the click of its cameras as they adjust to the new information.

"I can wait until yearly maintenance, this issue is not impeding my primary motor functions."

You roll your eyes, bots always say that. You know well enough that just because something isn't hurting now, doesn't mean it won't hurt later. Or, impede function later. You have to correct yourself on that. The mech technically doesn't feel anything, its diagnostic picked up a blip and it asked you to fix it. You scratch your head with a sigh and grab the offered hand to swing down.

Ghost is standing there waiting for you when you land. You take a step back, just a hair too close to the android for your own comfort. He cocks his head to the side. You're struck again by how quiet he is. Not just in the silent manner he regards you, but the silence with which his body functions. Androids aren't loud, not unless they're malfunctioning, but you can hear them. It's, well, ghostly. You wonder if that's how he got the nickname.

"What's wrong with 9?" He asks, there's no concern in his voice, why would there be?

"One of his casings is tight, it's compressing a motor," You report, glancing up at the mech. It's busy setting your tools back into their casings, giant hands careful with your pieces.

"His?" Ghost questions, and you hear his cameras click, dialing in to observe you. It's not a secret on base that you have a tendency to personify even the trash-droids. You don't rise to the bait. Ghost turns his attention to the mech instead. "You good 9?"

"Functioning within parameters Lieutenant," The mech chirps. Ghost nods and looks back at you.

"He's fine."

You sigh and go to gather your tools, grab a bite of your sandwich. You assume the lieutenant needs something fixed or he wouldn't be here. Lieutenant. That's unusual. Not unheard of, but definitely rare. Rare enough you don't think you've ever met an android that has the honor of a rank. Not one still in commission at least. You stare at him over your bread, inspecting him for any twitch in her servos.

He's beautiful machinery. Everything about him moves and flows as naturally as flesh and blood should. You've been thinking about what to use for his musculature since you last worked on him. Looked like some sort of aluminum poly... kev-spring... God you don't know, you're grasping at straws. Irreplaceable that's what it is.

"What d'you need?" You ask between bites. Gotta be something, androids don't come looking for you for no reason. They're not curious, they don't wonder how you're doing. They certainly don't stop to watch you work. Curiosity is a human emotion.

"Back plates need to be realigned, you didn't put them back right." He tells you. You nearly choke on your sandwich, thumping your chest and coughing as he stares down at you.

"Excuse me?" You cough in disbelief. Never in all your years as a mechanic have you been accused of such a thing. You glower at Ghost and set your food down. You twirl your finger to have him turn around, he does without complaint, stripping his zip-up off as he does. You don't know why he needs a jacket, not like he gets cold, but you suppose it helps him blend in. Although if he wanted to blend in he could've opted for a more human face plate.

You push his tee up, fingers skimming his synthetic skin, checking the black plated spine for misaligned pieces. Everything feels in order. You grab one of your micro screwdrivers and tap the tiny flat-head against the seams of his spine, testing for gaps. You push his shirt up higher, lean closer to get a better view. This would really be easier if he was sitting- no, laying down. His chest expands and contracts with false breaths, your working theory is exhaust release, but under your hand it feels like life.

You press the button at the top of his spine, watch the plates disengage and pop up. Starting at the bottom you push each one, manually, back into place. There's a small click that lets you know the plate is engaged, and his T5 doesn't click.

You grumble to yourself, and grab your glasses from your tool set along with a pair of needle nose pliers. It's an easy fix, a little fiddly, but you manage to manually hook the latch into place. You make a mental note to order a spare part. The rest of his spine lays down easily, neat clicks that you monitor more closely now that you've had to fix one. When you reach the top you make sure to press the plate on either side of his spine firmly into place before locking up the whole thing. There's a soft hiss, and a release of steam between the panels when you engage the lock.

Ghost rolls his shoulders with a soft groan as you drop his shirt back into place. "Fuck that feels good," He sighs, his modulator sighs. You frown, replacing your tools. It shouldn't feel like anything.

"Yeah?" You ask, human curiosity getting the better of you.

"Like gettin' my back cracked," Ghost hums, he twists at his waist like he's stretching out his muscles. Beautiful machinery, that looks and acts like a beautiful man. You think you understand why he wouldn't want a human face, he'd attract too much attention.

"Glad I could help," You look away from him, back to your tools, "I'll order a new part, should fix the misalignment permanently." You'll keep this fix off the books for now. It's too strange- Ghost is too strange. He almost feels human, but he can't be you've seen his mechanics. He can't be.

#cod x reader #x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #simon riley cod #simon riley #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #android!ghost #mechanic!reader #cyberpunk au #this is like sex to me #repairs on an android can actually be so personal

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teddybeartoji · 6 days

Text

彡 THE WORST PARTNER IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD

☆. contains: satoru gojo x gn!reader; con-artists au, crack, satoru is a little shit what's new, he also calls you 'baby' how sweet of him, hm? wc: 1.2k

on the other side of the wall, music and laughter mix together almost perfectly. the people are having fun, they're drinking and chatting, joking about the latest super cars and 'boring' paintings. rich people.

a bead of sweat rolls from your temple.

the setting sun paints the room you're in a beautiful warm orange. the big windows invite the sunrays in with open arms; they hit the mahogany wood furniture and you're a bit jealous. a bit of dust falls from the ceiling and you have to focus on not sneezing.

"ugh, we make such a good team!"

...

satoru gojo.

"we– fuck, do not!" you grumble at him through gritted teeth. "you literally left me– to the cops last time, dipshit!"

"but you got away!" he chirps back rather gleefully and the desire to punch him is suffocating.

careful as to not raise your voice too much, you whisper-shout at him. "just barely!"

"well, don't sell yourself short, babe! you do know how to work a tight spot!"

...

it hurts. his stupidity hurts your brain. squeezing your eyes shut, you shake your head at his joke. "can you– be like a normal fucking person? never say that again."

your knees about to buckle from below you and you're also losing your balance alongside your patience. it's rather hard to hold a 6'3 man up on your shoulders.

who could've guessed?

more dust falls onto your nose as satoru works on unscrewing the vent in the ceiling. it's painted gold. because why wouldn't it be, right? rich people are insane.

"what do you mean?! you were in a 'tight spot' and you got out of it!" it's sickening how genuine he sounds. "get it? it's called a tight spo— "

"could you possibly– stop saying the word 'tight'?" you grip onto his polished shoe that's sitting on your right shoulder while the fingers of your other hand dig into his ankle. "and could you possibly do this any fucking faster?"

he has ruined your suit with his dirty shoes and he has ruined your mood with his stupid jokes. you hate him.

he simply laughs at your annoyed tone "almost there, baby, almost there."

you try to make him explode with your mind for calling you baby again, completely and blatantly ignoring the butterflies that now occupy your stomach. you're just a bit nervous about the job, that's all. they have nothing to do with him. nothing at all.

you hear him shuffling around, mumbling something to himself as he reaches over to the last one, but while he doing so – he ends up putting way too much pressure onto your right shoulder which in turn makes you take a wobbly step forward. satoru's hands grasp onto the wall beside him in an attempt to help you regain your balance.

"c'mon! steady now!"

"shut the– " with furrowed brows, you glance up at him. sensing your gaze, he looks down at you with the prettiest smile. no, wait. just a smile, just a smile. fuck, you really hate him. "fuck– up!"

he gives you a quick wink before continuing his work and you avert your gaze. you can already feel the bruises blooming under your suit and shirt, reminders of his touch for the continuing weeks.

"you're way heavier than you look, gojo."

the sound of his gasp, makes your eyes roll back into your head. "are you calling me fat?"'

"yes. are you done?"

he tsks at your sharp answer and pockets his mini screwdriver. "so rude. and yes, i'm ready." as he speaks he takes the cover from it's place and slides it inside the vent. "be strong now!"

refraining from barking back, you divert all of your focus onto your core muscles and thighs. satoru lodges his one leg onto one of the fancy tall cabinet and you the uneven weight almost ruins you both. holding onto the wall with your now free hand, you observe him climbing up into the vent. the leg on your shoulder shakes and wobbles, threatening to run off but satoru doesn't seem to mind. you're sure he's having fun. the shit.

he manages to get his hands inside the vent and he's now trying to jam his whole body through the hole. his foot finally rises from your shoulder and he almost hits you in the face with it as he swings it around, supposedly gaining momentum for a final push. you sigh and brush off the dirt and dust from your suit.

you look around the room as you wait for him to turn himself around in the small vent. the sun warms your skin and you take the moment to enjoy the band through the walls of the room. exquisite paintings hang all around you, hugged by dark wooden frames, they rest in the shadows. specks of dust land on your nose and you look up.

he's grinning.

oh no.

"satoru..."

your warning does nothing but excite him even further.

"oh? ...not gojo?" his smile stretches. "but you love tight spots! i'm sure you'll find another way in, babe."

you're going to kill him.

deeply breathing in through your nose, you give him the biggest and also the fakest smile in the word.

"satoru, baby..." you hate how smug he looks. you want to wipe that stupid fucking smile from his face.

"you know that i just love tight spots and that's exactly why... you should pull me the fuck up!" your whisper-shouting turns into a full bark and satoru giggles behind his hand "right. now! i don't wanna find another way when a way is literally in front of me!"

his eyes twinkle at you when he realizes you actually used his own joke against him. you're so fucking hot. and you're especially hot now that you're glaring at him with a puffed out chest. he's having the best time of his life.

"that was good. that was really good actually." he winks at you as he moves to grab the vent cover from behind him. he places it back over the hole with a painfully slow pace, surely just to make you suffer even some more. he's sick. he's still visible enough for you to see the infuriating smile on his lips as he plays with you. "you did take my keycard though."

right.

he's as bratty as they come, as pretty as they come. petty! petty...

and this is his little payback. you're going to burn his house down. preferably when he's still in it. he gets on your nerves like nothing else. his eyes fucking sparkle from between the metal bars of the vent cover and your fingers curl into tight fists on your sides.

"i hate you."

"you'll get over it, baby. i'll see you later, yeah?"

his pearly whites flash at you one last time and then he's already climbing over the cover, heading straight for the room where they keep the goodies. without you.

...

a dusty suit, sweat, aching shoulders and pure, unadulterated rage.

you need a new plan.

and a fucking drink.

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ladybirdswritings · 4 months

Text

Pride & Prejudice - Coriolanus {Young} Snow x Reader

Summary: Spending more time with the miserable Mr. Snow, against your will, only proves to you exactly why he is a man you have sworn to loathe for all eternity. Steamy Pride & Prejudice retelling with young snow and you! Alternate universe, au!snow <3

Notes: so happy you all loved the first part — so i guess i’m continuing ahaha. as always, thank u for leaving comments and loves as it keeps me motivated! also, feel free to lmk if you’d like to be added to the tag list <3

two

The mist of September’s end and October’s greeting is a thick, heavy blanket in the air. You only scowl at it as you pick up your tiered skirt from where it drags against emerald moss and dirt. A storm is nearby.

You would melt into this very soil if you could. Become one with the lilacs and peonies if it meant you’d never be prevailed upon to marry again by the force of your mother.

Mama is unwell. As always but, with more fervor now. The dance was most successful for Jane. She and Sejanus have been exchanging kind letters with pomegranate stained kisses garnishing the print. Even so, mama is viciously unhappy.

The cherrywood cabinets slam louder when you pass, and her eyes narrow at any mention of the gathering. Perhaps your behavior was a great embarrassment for her. If only you were as divine as Jane.

The house is lively, far too lively for your liking at this settling hour. Sisters here and sisters there. They busy themselves with the grand piano and awful singing. It isn’t long until one of the twins rushes forward with a sealed envelope clasped tightly in hand.

“Mama! It is for Jane!”

You snatch the paper from her palm, worrisome that she will ruin it with how tightly she squeezes. Beyond this, you are most eager to see the development in your own personal romance novel starring your dearest sister. Mama slaps your hand away in turn, tugging it back into a monstrous grasp that nearly shreds it to minuscule little pieces.

You see the breath halt and dwell comfortably in her throat, unwilling to part or falter. This is most important to her, trivial matter as it is.

So long as Jane is happy…

You gaze on at the girl with petal-pink cheeks and bright eyes — her smile is a thing of beauty and joy at the mere idea that Sejanus Plinth could admire her.

“Mama! What does it say!”

Her hands tremble like hummingbirds now, and your frown stitches itself promptly upon your pretty face. Oh no, he is certain to have changed his mind.

At least he was kind and gentleman enough to inform dear Jane by letter.

That joy, excitement and eagerness once swimming within your mother’s eyes has dissipated to sheer horror.

“When did we receive this?” She whispers, a ghastly and terror laced sound.

“This morning!” One of the twins happily offers, twirling her chocolate ringlet tight enough to knot.

Mama cries out a sound of agony, shoving the paper hard against Jane’s chest — enough so that she stumbles. She is a frantic thing, running round your quaint living space like that of a farm animal who has lost its head.

You are fueled by your own confusion, constricting your mind to only wait upon Jane. She shakily reads the crumbled thing — hesitance becoming her. Her eyes shift then; a look of joy, excitement, fear — then dread.

“What is it?” You whisper, watching as mama mutters nonsense and brushes the collection of scattered breadcrumbs from the countertop — eyes wide as the moon aglow at midnight.

“Mr. Plinth and his sister, alongside Mr. Snow and sir Plinth’s dear — rich uncle, have all planned to meet with us this evening. They’ve taken a carriage, and have made arrangements to arrive by sundown.”

Four pairs of eyes, in perfected unison, glance into the grassy plains where the sun has begun to set.

You do not intend to giggle at the irony, perhaps it is a thing fueled by nerves just as your mother. Yet it floats from your sweet lips like a prayer, slender fingers rushing to suffocate it.

It is undeniably numerous, however. How could it be anything but?

The way your dearest blood all melts at the brim for the gaze of three men whom are only important by cold silver is a thing of great mystery to you, something you do not understand. It is not just mama and Jane and the entirety of your own family however. No, it is all of society. You only wonder what it would be like for a woman to reach beyond the horizon line — to be great. To not be forced upon a man of all creatures to be of true importance.

Mama rushes past, so quickly your hair becomes unruly. She presses her palms firmly against your cheeks — your face piecing together like a swift minnow from the nearby fish pond.

“Oh heavens — if you do even the littlest act so to embarrass me, I am certain to die of great illness. My nerves are far too weak, you must behave for me! Be as sweet Jane is. Sir Plinth’s uncle is of the richest gentleman in Newbury, 5,000 a year! You must converse with him, do it for your dearest mother. Oh! And brush that wild hair from your face, girl. He will think you to be a witch — keep guard at the window.”

Her words are a tangled, knotted mess of all the things you despise. Even whilst tucked away into a place where you do not truly listen, you know well she is asking you to be social for gain of a husband.

You frown, grateful when the headless chicken runs off from you again. Your hand fussses with the wisps rested amongst your forehead — and you obey mama’s orders by sauntering to the creaky old chair that faces the fogged front window.

The fog is a veil, a curtain hiding from you only dread. You are grateful for it now, though it does no good for your locks and tresses. Your eyes dart to the torn book beside you — and you consider disobedience as an alternative to this state. You know well what will happen if you stray, so you do not dare it.

It is an awfully timely and punctual arrival — perhaps ten ticks of the grand, tower clock before the stallion’s snouts peek through the fog. Just as the golden halo sets beyond them.

“Mama!”

You call, but she only waves you away with a busy hand as she continues fussing with the knit table mat. You will not bother it again. You shrink, hiding all but curious eyes behind the lace curtain.

Sejanus is grinning, nervously you think. Then the scowling sister, a small, old creature with a sunken gaze — and the miserable one. They approach, you sink further.

“God Sejanus, smile any more for the poor thing and your pockets will start betraying you.” Grace sneers, voice sewn tightly with disgust at the less fortunate situation your family finds themselves in, glancing around at the quaint, pathetic home. It is as if she believes one breath of hers will cause it to collapse to the soil — to her polished feet.

“Please Grace, she is the prettiest girl I have ever seen. Oh, uncle, her eldest sister is very agreeable as well. Don’t you agree, Snow?”

Oh, he’s asked the cold thing who’s far too proud and rich for a humble party. You’re curious.

“Perfectly tolerable, I suppose. But not pretty enough to tempt me.”

Oh…

Your mischievous, sneaky grin melts into that of a hard line — ample with annoyance. How arrogant of him to say. As if his blonde locks and blue eyes make him any different than the handsome officers that pass by now and then. As if he is some prize. You scowl, Grace’s laugh an unpleasant sound.

Four hard knocks and you are quickly up to your feet.

Mama rushes to you immediately, slapping your hand enough so that it stings greatly and fades the color crimson.

“You were meant to watch! Places, take your stance girls!”

It takes beyond the greatest force to drag your feet to stand beside Jane. Mama checks each forced position anxiously before she tugs the door open wide — with a horrible, eager grin.

“Welcome!”

They trail the moss and dirt onto your oak floors, not bothering to wipe it away on the torn cloth you call a carpet. No need, they believe. The house is pathetic already as it stands. No dirt shall make it any less worthy than it already is.

In unison, a curtsy of greeting becomes all of you. Prim and proper and perfect just as mother groomed you all to be. For preparation of husbands.

Good god, the blonde looks even more dreadful now. Cold eyes darting to the old, harmless hound that chews on a racket ball. He winces at the sight of dust and chipped oak wood furniture surrounding. He looks down upon this place as if it is beneath him.

He far from belongs here.

“Sit, please sit! I’ve already prepared us supper!” Mama practically pushes Sejanus with most nervous palms, and his shadows follow suite.

Though you dream of running through the open door and fading into the mist to never be found again — you obey; sauntering into the archway with tired eyes and reluctant feet.

“My lady…”

Oh.

The short man with bushy brows and coal colored, untamed locks pulls your seat back enough so that you may sit upon it. To your dismay, the miserable one takes place in front of you. His eyes are cast downward to the far from fine silverware laid before him.

“Thank you sir.” You whisper, the chair feeling as though it is determined to suffocate you the longer you sit upon it.

“Oh, Jane — everybody, please meet my uncle, Mr. Casca Highbottom of Bristol.”

You only nod at the grinning old man, and mama rushes back like a midnight breeze through the archway — setting plates filled to the brim with but all of the food left for the entire month. Even so, it remains poor to a gazing eye. Though it matters not how little garnishes the porcelain, for when you catch gaze of miserable Snow pushing his few peas around in disgust, you cannot help but narrow your sight.

How can he be so proud? Certainly, if a humble gathering invited you in for a warm meal in this awful mist — you’d be most grateful for even a singular pea on your plate. Let alone twelve.

Grace laughs at the sight of Snow displeased — placing a soft palm against his knee beneath the cherrywood table. He spares her laugh a glance, and his lip twitches in what appears to be an amused smile. They talk lowly to each other, you notice it from where you peer behind your glass. She must be fond of him what with the way she touches him and leans closer with each word he speaks. You cannot possibly imagine why. Perhaps they are just alike. Rich, rude things.

“So — I dare ask if any suitors captured your heart at the party then?” Grace, she speaks to you now. You snort, ready to offer words of disdain and disgust toward the lot of men and their sweaty palms. Your mother’s cold glare silences you.

“No… they did not.” You mutter in quick defeat.

“Hmm, how dreadful…” it is mock sympathy, noticeable to both you and Jane.

Tension thins to a mere string lacing the table together. Silence blanketing even more so than the mist as worn silverware and mama’s embarsssing tangents erupt in painful harmony. You are grateful for Jane who manages to pry her eyes from Sejanus for a single moment so to save you from mama’s disapproving glare at your silence. She is selling you to the short man, it seems. She has been for the entirety of this meal.

“It is not as though gentlemen do not flock to my dear sister…” Jane starts. “It is simply that she is far too preoccupied with her books to notice them. She is an avid reader, adores her novels you see. She possesses great talents because of it!”

You hoped Jane would be so kind as to avert the attention. Yet it remains stable upon you, the available wife — as cattle with clipped ears. You feel as though you are livestock being powdered and pressed for the market. If the short man is buying, you’d rather be butchered.

He is awkward and stout and his jokes are uncomfortable as they are just rude. He is far from a gentleman and all the reason you deny each hand bestowed to you in the first place. For reason of men like him.

“You write?” Snow inquires.

Those cold, devoid eyes are locked upon you — and despite wishing to send him away to never return so you may be free of his arrogance, you only peer up at his gaze through fanned lashes to see them commanding an answer of you. Awaiting one.

“Occasionally, sir.”

His gaze doesn’t falter, nor does the gaze of Mr. Highbottom, even as he presses a boiled potato to his tongue.

“What of?”

What a silly question, you think. What else would a woman of your age and lack quill about?

It baffles you to find him curious. Perhaps he does not wish to seem obviously rude any more so than he simply is — perhaps he is only creating small talk.

“What else, sir? My thoughts and desires, my ideas. Romance — dramatics…”

“Oh but she just despises poetry!” Mama interjects, as if to end the conversation and refocus it upon your eligibility. Even when she speaks, Snow does not spare her a single glance. His eyes, they still rest upon you.

“You do? I thought poetry to be the food of love.”

You dare a snort then, suffocating a fit of laughter with a spoonful of food. You take your time chewing it, only offering more words when you realize that the conversation does not seem to be at its end. No. It cannot be. Not when he looks at you in a such an expectant manner.

“A poet writes of women in the gaze of all men, which I do not believe to be a true show of adoration. Perhaps it is the food of love — if you want to suffocate it. Stone it till it remains no longer.”

His next words come quick, immediately almost. As if he is grasping at the first chance to reply, much to Highbottom’s dismay whom snaps his mouth shut after losing the opportunity. Every eye in attendance is on the both of you.

Do they think you to be an enigma? You wonder…

“What do you recommend then? To encourage affection between two people…”

You do not know why he asks you this, but you can only assume it is because he wishes to embarrass you. Grace’s sharp gaze morphs into that of an amused smirk. Why would he ask the only woman seated what encourages affection when she cannot obtain it on her own?

You are certain then of his intentions. To mock you in front of Plinth’s sister, his uncle. In front of your blood. He does it so subtlety that if you were not bright as you are — you would most certainly miss it. He is a fool, a great fool because miraculously — you can reciprocate.

“Dancing… even if one’s partner is only tolerable.” You almost sneer with a tilt of your head and raise of your sharp brow.

If something truly clicks within him, it is most quickly dissipated. Most tricky to see. Sejanus clears his throat, and Highbottom — rude creature, erupts into a fit of laughter with a mouthful of food. Your mother is nervous, she joins him.

Grace only gasps, and Jane’s soft features are laced with confusion at the thing only you five are lucky enough to understand.

You remain stoic, challenging his eyes and his tense, twitching jaw with proudness.

“Shall I fetch dessert mama?”

Your mother nods through fits of forced laughter, and you take the opportunity to lift upon your feet. The chair scrapes against the creaky panels and nearly topples as you rush into the quaint kitchen and away from him.

It brings you joy knowing that he has nothing further to say.

You are smiling, terribly overflowed with pride as you place canned, sugared peaches upon ten porcelain plates. How proud he must have felt to speak lowly of you, a girl he spared little words to at a party he refrained from dancing at for it was too poor for his liking.

You disliked him then — but a chat with miss Lucy-Gray Baird while passing by in town confirmed all of your prejudice. She claims to have been treated most coldly by him whilst he was courting her. He offered his hand, then fled into midnight when he grew bored of her. Only the next morning.

He is as any other man is. A heartless hound. His behavior in your small home only further proves your prejudice is with more than enough reason.

You take longer than you should selfishly, and when you return — your gaze locks upon Sejanus who is entirely enamored by the sapphire gaze of Jane.

Mama aids you in placing down the plates you juggle. It is a poor dessert, but one that is most delectable.

“Oh well, your daughter is most precious. Funny, too! How uncommon for women.”

“Oh please uncle, we all have our wit. She is just peculiar, I daresay.”

Mama laughs at Grace’s words, and you only offer a polite, tense smile before being seated once again. It is you now that pushes your food around your plate, fading into the mist truly as you remain silent.

They speak of things you care the least bit for — all irrelevant matters to your mind. You are grateful when wine is poured, you nearly inhale it and garner a slap on your hand once again from mama.

You need it to get thought this.

Highbottom and mama speak of you, she tells him lies. How much you wish to be wed, how eager you are to find a lover. All contradictions of Jane’s earlier lick of truth. The rich fool believes her, his eyes cast upon you like poisonous darts. Slowly suffocating you.

Sejanus is preoccupied entirely by Jane — and the miserable one chats lowly with the scowling sister.

“Well, how about some music and dance? Lizzie, off to the piano!”

Your youngest sister lifts — eager to press her hands against the keys. It will be a mediocre melody but one that offers enough sound so to dance. You wish to stay glued to the table as they leave you to the living space — but mama tugs at your braid harshly, you have no choice other than obedience.

Sejanus kindly offers Jane a hand — and you feel as though you will just sink entirely into the floor as Highbottom approaches. Your heel turns you swift as you try and find even a small bit of space in this little home.

A navy vest with a crimson rose tucked into its pocket cages your escape. You never thought to see the day you’d be grateful for the cold blonde who cuts in front. You nearly collide with him.

“Dance with me.” He commands.

How baffling…

You do not notice the tension settled within your features until your brows ease in confusion. Your chin is pointed upwards — enough so that he can be equal to your gaze.

“Are you asking this of me — or ordering sir?”

His jaw ticks once more, but he does not follow up with any more words. The cleared throat of the short man behind you is enough reason to pick the far less uncomfortable poison. You’d rather be fueled by annoyance as opposed to discomfort and dread. One dance is all.

“Fine.” You mutter, sealing your fate and betraying your swear to be far away from the man whom you loathe entirely.

He is a pale thing up close. Birth marks kissing silken skin, soft as the moss kissing your shoes. You are grateful that this dance does not require touch — only the occasional closeness.

You follow him to where Sejanus and Jane stand — his head nearly reaches your ceiling. His palm hovers over yours, eyes downcast on your pretty features. Grace is scowling, again.

Your fingers twitch as Lizzie begins the sonnet, and you follow his lead.

It surprises you greatly, how well he dances. Though his mouth is a hard line, and his eyes are like round lumps of charred coal. He is noiseless.

“Are we to dance in dread and silence, Mr. Snow? I dare comment on this awful weather, now you may follow with a remark about the food. How much you despised it.”

You catch a glimpse of him, a suppressed twitch of his lips. As if the words offended him. Maybe amused him. You step forward and then back, frayed skirt floating against the movement. He follows suite.

“I could comment on how you dance. I am happy to inform you it is more tasteful than how you cook. Please do advise me on what more you want me to say to you.”

You stumble by his words — and his eyes dart to your clumsy feet. They are stable soon enough, circling him like a shark in vicious waters. His words upset you.

“Mama and Jane prepared the meal. I only prepared the peaches; but I do believe that if a family was kind enough to welcome an abrupt attendance with a warm meal — I would not be so complacent about its contents. You see — we are not all so fortunate to have garnered inheritance, Mr. Snow.” A cold melody, but one he would be a fool to ignore. It is all true.

Now it is him that halts. He steps forward, dipping his head low. Your eyes wander to his gloved palm — it clenches then flexes outward; all evidence of his annoyance with your words.

There you both stand, Sejanus and Jane alongside the twins, mama and Highbottom swirling around you. You do not know where Grace lurks.

You both are still, he stands a tower above you. His eyes pour heat into your own, admonishing you — offended with your words. It is as if the room is only filled with the two of you, the lace of connection between you just your anger. Even in your short time being familiar, it is strong.

“Do you imply that my inheritance is all the reason for my success?” He forces through clenched — perfect teeth.

“Perhaps I do sir, miss Baird of Newbury certainly agree—”

The hand that lays against your side is snatched into his own. He squeezes it tight now, eyes wide and swimming with disapproval and frustration. It has been resting at the surface, but bound to crack.

“Oh I’m certain she does. I am sure she told you the many tales of her troubles and woes brought upon by her time spent with me. You won’t speak to her again.”

It is you that steps forward now, so laced with upset that you do not notice your poor and worn shoes are stepping upon his tip toes. Up upon the rich and shined leather. Your chin is pointed upward, your stance tense.

“You command me as if I am wed to you sir, but I am not. You have come here, unannounced and unhappy with your humble plate as if we are all but a quaint inn with poor maids. Just because we gather little and obscure and we do not have pockets as generous and full as yours does not make us beneath you, Mr. Snow.”

The music halts, and your eyes shift quickly to find a concerned Jane gazing on — alongside your horrified mother. How crazed you both must look now. Stepping upon his toes with palms clasped — anger and upset becoming you both.

You release his gloved hand and part your soft lips to dismiss yourself — yet a strike of lightning cracking from above the grayed sky is a gift given, a distraction from beyond. Yet alongside it? A curse.

The horses startle, lifting to their hind legs before running far and fast with the carriage. Grace cries out from where she sulked in the shadows, and Sejanus alongside his uncle run after the wild beasts. Your sisters and mama follow.

“What are we to do!?”

“Grace, please be calm. We will fetch them.”

“We cannot travel in these conditions, boy.”

“You may rest here!”

Dread is a serpent that wraps tight round your throat — making the pounding of your heart halt entirely.

It is all a blur, but by the end of the lively conversation it is decided. They will stay. They will all stay. You bow your head, crossing your arms round the beating at your chest so to protect it.

“Excuse me.” You whisper, so low it is taken with the breeze from the open door before rushing up your dilapidated steps; knowing full well that the hospitality offered by mama, selfish reasoning or not, is the last thing a man like Mr. Snow deserves…

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