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dearly-somber · 6 months

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RBF | j.jk

-> pairing. wolf shifter!jungkook x human!reader (f)

-> genre. slow burn, eventual romance, eventual smut, fluff, f2l (friends-to-lovers), pining, found family, high school!au

-> w/c. 1344

-> rating. 13+

-> a/n. This one is pretty Yoongi centric, but it’s important for later installments (and also I wanted to build more on Y/N’s relationships with the pack outside of Jungkook heh).

-> warnings. Yoongi’s kind of a dick 💔

-> collection. mini-series

-> started. Jun. 30th, 2022 @ 18:24

-> fin. Mon., Oct. 4th, 2023 @ 22:48

-> edited. Wed., Nov. 1st, 2023 @ 09:47

-> divider credit. @mmadeinheavenn

“Why does Yoongi hate me so much?”

Jungkook looks up from where he’s been sketching a picture of what he thinks your wolf would look like if you had one, a frown on his face. “Yoongi doesn’t hate you,” he says.

“He does,” you pout, pulling at a loose thread in your socks.

“He doesn’t.” Jungkook sets his sketchbook aside to give you his full attention. “Where’s this coming from?”

You sigh. “It’s gonna sound stupid…”

“It won’t.” Jungkook holds your hand. When you finally look up at him, you’re met with a boyish grin that melts your insides.

You sigh. “I went down to the kitchen earlier to grab something to drink…”

“Yeah?”

“And…” You chew on your lip, sighing again before letting your thumb rub over the back of Jungkook’s hand in an attempt to calm your nerves. “And Yoongi was there. I accidentally bumped into him on my way out and he spilt coffee all over.”

“And he got mad?”

“Yeah.” You take a moment to get the words right, briefly reliving the older shifter’s scorn and flinching at the memory. Even just thinking about it has you biting on your lip to stop yourself from crying. “He got really mad. Started growling and cursing at me; shooed me upstairs… It’s the angriest I’ve ever seen him,” you whisper.

“Oh, angel.” Jungkook takes it upon himself to lift you up under your arms and set you back down in his lap. You’re surprised because, first of all, you never realized just how strong he is, but also because you find you don’t hate it as much as you should—nevermind “angel”.

Usually you hate being manhandled, especially into such intimate positions or poses, but you know deep down that you can trust Jungkook and his motivations, so you let yourself accept and bathe in his affection and affirmations.

You don’t mind when he guides your arms around his shoulders. You lean into him and let your eyes drift closed when his arms wrap around your back, holding you to his chest. “I’m sorry Yoongi hyung growled at you,” he says.

“It’s not your fault,” you mumble into his shoulder, already feeling lighter than when you’d sat back down next to him after the whole ordeal took place. “I just… I wish I knew why he disliked me so much. We’ve been friends for almost six months, now! Everyone else has warmed up to me already.”

Jungkook sighs, running his fingers up and down your spine as he thinks. The feeling sends shivers down your body. “Yoongi hyung is…protective. He’s had past relations with humans and it didn’t end well for him or the people he cared about. I’m not saying what he did was right, but there’s a reason he’s such a dick to you all the time,” Jungkook explains softly, trying and failing to subtly nose at the juncture of your neck.

You pull away from him as gently as you can, sliding off his legs. As you sit knee-to-knee with him, you settle your hands in your lap and stare. Thinking.

Finally, you speak. “Fine.”

Jungkook raises a single brow. “‘Fine’? What does that mean?”

“It means I get it. But he’s got his head farther up his ass than I thought if he thinks it’s an excuse for him to treat me like shit.”

Jungkook smiles with a fond shake of his head, sighing, “There’s the Y/N I know and love. There might finally be peace in the world once you and Yoongi start actually liking each other.”

You roll your eyes, laying back down as he reverts back to sketching. “It’s not my fault he’s got a stick up his ass. He needs to realize I’m not the same human who hurt him gods know how long ago. I might be more annoying, but I’m not going to hurt anyone.”

Jungkook smiles down at his sketchbook, muttering something under his breath. “It’s actually—“

“Y/N!”

“Oh gods,” you groan, hyping yourself up at the sound of Namjoon’s voice ricocheting off the kitchen walls, “what now?”

“Don’t be mean,” Jungkook chides, shoving you with his foot on your way out the door. You stick your tongue out at him, shaking your head with a dumb smile on your way downstairs.

“What’s up, doc?”

Namjoon frowns at you as you lean your elbows against the island. “I’m…not a doctor…”

“It’s” —you sigh, waving him off— “nevermind. What do you need?”

“Yoongi’s out back. He asked me to call for you.”

“Yoongi?” you ask skeptically, an eyebrow raised.

“Yep,” Namjoon says. “Off you go.” He shoos you out the patio doors like an old lady, disappearing back inside the house after sliding the doors shut.

“Great,” you mutter. You trudge through the wet grass and mud to the little backyard leading into the woods where the pack likes hanging out when they’re shifted (and sometimes even when they’re not. Ever since you came along, they added a little bonfire and a few camper chairs for when you’re hanging out with them).

As you near the backyard, you spot Yoongi sitting, in wolf form, on one of the several rock-slash-boulder formations surrounding what is now the bonfire pit, his fur dirtied from running while it’s wet outside. Under his mud-laden paws, you spot a dirty but otherwise intact article of clothing you thought you’d lost forever.

“Is that my Toothless sweater?” you ask, surprised. You thought you lost it after forgetting it in the woods the first time you were invited to go swimming in the river with them.

Yoongi’s ears perk up on his head as he raises his head to glare at you, dragging his tongue over his maw. He sits a little straighter the closer you get, watching you so close you can feel your heartbeat instinctively pick up its pace.

“I thought I lost this,” you mumble, wrapping your fingers around the stiff fabric and tugging to get it out from under Yoongi’s large paw. You utterly fail, because the dickhead decides to tease you by pressing down harder on it and refusing to budge until you’ve exerted all your strength, nearly sending you ass-first into a puddle of mud.

You glare at him as his wolf seems to snicker—shoulders shaking and tail wagging ever so slightly behind him.

“You know…” You rub the fabric between your fingers, contemplating whether or not you’ll get mauled to death and deciding you don’t actually care. “I like you when you’re like this.”

Yoongi’s head tilts to one side, his ears flopping. How dare he look so cute when he acts like you’re the devil more than half of the time.

“When you’re shifted,” you clarify. “Guessing your mood based off the way you hold your tail is much easier than trying to decipher your emotions based off your resting bitch face.”

Immediately, the backyard fills with a low, warning growl. Yoongi’s head is back to its righted position, but slightly lowered so you can see just how hard he’s glaring at you.

“You know what, no!” You clench your sweater in your hand as you point an accusatory finger at the rumbling grey wolf. “I’m tired of you bullying me, Yoongi. Not all humans are bad, you know!” You scoff at the way his eyes widen, comically round in this form. “I’m not going to hurt you, or anyone else! Jungkook loves this pack, and I love Jungkook.” Yoongi’s tail shoots straight up, ears perked high on his head. “I wouldn’t do anything to hurt him.”

You pause, clearing your throat so you can muster up the courage to say, “He’s my best friend. Don’t make this more difficult than it has to be.”

Yoongi stares at you, but you can’t read his facial expressions—can’t guess what’s going on behind those burning cocoa eyes of his. Not even his tail gives him away. So instead of hurting your brain overthinking his reaction, you huff and storm off, leaving a very intrigued shifter behind to contemplate several things at once.

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corazondebeskar-reads · 20 days

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of rage and ruin - chapter one

of rage and ruin series

chapter one

series masterlist | next chapter

werewolf!alpha!Joel Miller x f!omega!reader

word count: 3.1k

summary: Joel Miller made it twelve years into the apocalypse without getting bit. He turns into a much different kind of monster than he expected, though.

chapter warnings: dark, dead dove do not eat, a/b/o, alpha/omega dynamics, omegaverse, captivity, torture, canon-typical violence, genre-typical violence, horror themes, graphic violence, suicidal ideation, gore, abuse by captors (not by either joel or reader), death, murder of innocent people, typical raider/hunter behavior, mention of cordyceps, angst, no y/n, reader is able-bodied and afab with no specific descriptions, viewer discretion is advised

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

This is a werewolf omegaverse fic that uses traditional and non-traditional elements of the genres. It largely ignores TLOU canon.

DISCLAIMER: A plotline of this story involves unethical medical care and human experimentation re: vaccines. It may give anti-vax vibes. This is NOT an anti-vax story and I do not want any related discourse please and thank you. This is about FEDRA being the absolute worst, not about the real world in any way.

In a rare moment of lucidity, he thinks he used to be human, once.

He’s partially transformed more often than not. Almost never fully, unless he’s under the sway of the moon. His real keeper.

These raiders may think they own him, but he knows the truth.

But lucidity is rare, and most of the time, Joel Miller is more beast than man.

Most of the time, he doesn’t even know he’s Joel Miller.

No matter what, though, he’s a nearly uncontrollable force of nature.

That’s why they keep a shock collar around his neck and tasers at their waists. That’s why they never turn their backs or leave him unrestrained. He fought like hell for a long time until he broke.

No shame in it, he knows. Everyone breaks eventually.

As the years have gone on, though, he’s been getting restless and snippy, less cooperative. And the pain doesn’t really matter anymore.

Nothin’ really does when you’ve given up.

On the last new moon, when the wolf was quiet and the man was loud, he’d tried to refuse. He sat, buck-ass naked, on the gritty wood floor of the house they were raiding.

He did not sniff out treasure like some fucking metal detector. He did not tear the humans limb from limb. He did not feast.

He paid for that night and had the receipts to prove it, laid into his back from the silver-tipped whip.

He should have tried harder to die at the start.

He hadn’t understood right away, when they took him. It, frankly, didn’t even cross his mind that they’d know. Laura, the woman in the woods, had been so sure it was secret.

He got it when they shot him in the leg with a BB gun, though, and the silver shrapnel burned. They were prepared. Silver-coated chains and cuffs, silver-tipped batons and whips and knives. Cattle prods and electric collars.

They’d been hunting him.

They tried to break him easy, first. They were looking for a wolf; didn’t know they’d find Joel Miller. They left him chained in an abandoned suburb, giving him just the minimum food and water to keep him alive.

It worked to weaken him, but they didn’t want him weak forever. Not a very good guard dog or weapon if he can’t lift his head. So when that didn’t work, when he didn’t beg and plead or bend the knee, they gave up and bulked him back up slowly.

So they tried pain next.

He came to know the healing as a curse. They avoided the silver, at least at first, since it’d leave damage. But when they found out they could break his bones over and over and over?

That’s when he started to wish he was dead. What was the point, anyway? He couldn’t go back to Boston. Couldn’t risk himself around Tommy and Tess.

Couldn’t kill himself if he tried, but they could, with their arsenal.

Didn’t matter what he wanted in the end; his brain wouldn’t give in. It overrode his silent pleas, and it fought and fought and fought.

So they took him on a raid. Starving, chained under the full moon, and they waited. He couldn’t go far, but he didn’t have to.

They brought the food to him.

“You’ve no control over it, huh?” Cheryl said after, leering into his “room.” They send her to play nice, but he knows she’s the worst of them all. They just think he’ll smell pussy and roll over. “We didn’t need you to kill them. You just need to scare them and help us find what we’re lookin’ for.”

They had him. He knows, he knows, he knows. He’d have done anything to stop it from happening again. From devouring tied-up families who dared to say “no” to Jim and his crew. From throwing up blood and bones and bows.

He can’t kill himself. They won’t kill him. He had no choice.

He broke.

This new moon, they don’t take him out to scavenge. No, instead, they drag him outside and spray him down with the hose. This, in itself, is not unusual. But when they force the muzzle over his snapping teeth to scrub at his skin with precious lye soap and a rag, he starts to get concerned.

His suspicions are confirmed when they take him back inside.

The only time he’s left unbound is here, in his room. Well. It meets the vague requirements for a room, but it’s also reinforced with silver-plated steel and concrete. Cheaply so, but enough to mute his senses and hopes.

Usually, they wait until the grate is shut to unclip the lead. They wait until he kneels and offers his hands to unlock the shackles. When he’s been good, of course.

But not today. Today, they chain him tight to the wall at the far end of the room.

They’ve had this theory that he hates to admit is not without merit. Looking for another way to control him, they’ve tried to find him an omega.

The first few times, they just forced him on them out wherever they’ve raided. Usually, he’s too out of control, and they don’t survive the encounter.

The most recent time, they dumped one in his cell. But the poor thing still smelled of his alpha, having only lost them hours earlier.

Joel didn’t react well.

They’re trying something new, now.

That he’s here while they clean his room is deliberate. He knows this. They’re purging all his scent from it, and they want him to watch, want him unsettled.

He growls when they remove his mattress completely. It’s a pathetically small, thin, hole-ridden thing, but it’s his.

Before they drag in a new one, a flat pack of grated metal is tossed in the corner. Two of his captors go to work on assembling the contraption, and another leaves for a while, only to return with a sawed-off portion of his mattress.

It fits neatly inside the cage. For that’s what they’ve constructed. It’s silver-coated, of course, but pathetically weak otherwise. If he truly desired, he could snap the bars as easily as bone.

He’s not keen on having burnt hands, though.

Just inside the front of the cage, they clip up a bit of cloth. He doesn’t need to be told what it is, knowing immediately after it’s extracted from the airtight glass Tupperware.

They tell him anyway. “Got a new toy for you to try, if you’re good. For now, this is all you get.”

The heady scent of omega soaked into the panties permeates his room.

He’s salivating a little by the time they finally release him, but he waits until the heavy footfalls echo from down the hall to give in.

They smell divine. He can’t resist tasting, lapping at the tiniest hint of musk and omega under his elongated tongue.

“Told ya he would have shredded her,” Jim says to Cheryl when they come in the morning with his breakfast. Joel’s in his mind enough to feel a little shame, back of his neck burning, when they see the tattered fabric.

It’s clear they anticipated it because, along with his tray, he’s given a new pair.

They’re not so appealing this time. The sweet scent is cut by acidic fear like vinegar through molasses. He ignores them in favor of his meal.

He eats better here than he ever did out there. He’s worth more rations to the raiders than to FEDRA. Robust meals full of meat and eggs and potatoes.

They need him strong, after all.

It’s not until a few hours later that he’s drawn back in by the underwear. It’s not so acrid anymore. Or maybe it is, and he’s just in the mood. Either way, he buries his face in them while he strokes his cock and uses them to catch his cum when he finishes.

There. That’s better. The mix of him with… whoever you are.

When they bring him lunch, they make him put the panties on his old tray before pushing it out to them. He doesn’t burn with shame this time; no, he almost feels proud. Like a peacock fluffing out its feathers. They know now. They must.

Whoever you are, you’re his.

The next day, they bring back the same pair. He wolfs out a little at the fresh layer of you over his cum. It’s all fear and tears and disgust, but it doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter at all, not to him, not to the wolf.

All that matters is how his head fills with static when he licks across the gusset and howls.

Cheryl’s looking pretty smug on the other side of the door, but for all that she’s pleased with the results; they still threaten to turn on the collar if he doesn’t eat quickly.

He’s nearly fully wolf, gobbling down the food and returning to his treasure. He snarls as he strokes his cock, the head angry and purple as he tugs. He doesn’t spill onto the panties this time, not wanting to cover up the perfect combination of your scents. In the end, they’re shredded anyway, as his fingers stretch and break into claws.

In his full glory, his senses are even sharper. Sharp enough that he can hear a faint sobbing across the building and Cheryl’s sharp laughter.

“I don’t know,” she’s drawling when he tunes in. “He sounds pretty excited to meet you.”

The soft sobbing turns raw and cracked. He can smell the salt and phlegm, can practically taste it in the air. He’s aware of Cheryl, but nothing is louder than the way your heart is tripping over itself.

When Cheryl’s words sink in, when he realizes he might actually get to have whatever delicious creature they’ve gotten him, he howls again, a long, aching sound that creeps down your bones like frost.

Later, when he’s a little more present, he realizes they didn’t shock him either time he howled. It’s usually a guarantee.

Whatever game they’re playing, it doesn’t bode well for you.

Joel Miller made it twelve years into the apocalypse without getting bit. He wasn’t even worried when it happened. They’d been heading back to the QZ, him and Tommy and Tess, when a wild dog attacked them.

Or, well. A wolf.

Tommy had gotten a bullet in its head, but it had Joel’s arm in its jaw at the time. Its teeth had rent through his jacket like a spoon in a banana split.

FEDRA would shoot him without a second thought, so they doubled back to the little cabin and hunkered down. Figured they’d lay low long enough for it to be hideable before sneaking back in.

Tommy went out at daybreak for the carcass—it’d be leagues better than what they had in their bags. When he came back, he was faint and empty-handed.

“...don’t make any sense,” he kept muttering, pacing the tiny kitchenette.

Joel and Tess exchanged a glance.

“Probably a bear took it,” she suggested.

Tommy ran his hand through his hair, shook his head, and did it again. When he looked up at them, it was through wild, unpredictable eyes. “Wasn’t a wolf. It was a man.”

“What’re you talkin’ about?” Joel said.

“C’mon.”

They followed him through the thicket, and sure as shit, in the same place the wolf’s corpse had lain was a man with a bullet through his skull. He was completely nude.

“Gotta be a coincidence,” Joel muttered.

Tommy turned to him, eyes wide and hands shaking. “What kind of fucking coincidence is this?”

There was a rustle, and they all turned, guns raised, as a woman peeked from behind a tree.

She put her hands up and waited. Tess jerked her head to one side, and they lowered but did not stow their weapons.

The woman was in a ratty cotton dress with no shoes; autumn leaves crunching underfoot.

“That’s, um. That’s my husband,” she said softly.

“Apologies, ma’am,” Tommy said, his face soft and sad. “But—I think he attacked us.”

Her green eyes grew wide, pupils dilating and breath catching in her chest. “Did you get bit?”

Tommy and Tess instinctually looked at Joel.

“What’s it to ya?” he said.

“Did you get bit?” she repeated.

“Was he Infected?”

“Not with cordyceps, no,” she says. She avoids looking at the body but flinches when she brushes a foot against a blood-soaked leaf.

“What does that mean?” Tommy said.

“I think it’s best we go someplace and talk.”

Against better judgment, they follow her through the words to her home. She claims to have two kids alone there, four years and six months.

It turns out to be true. She gets them both down for a nap and serves hot stew. They try to refuse, but she insists.

Tommy feels a little sick eating the food of a man he killed. They all listen, rapt, as she begins to speak.

“It happened a year ago. But it wasn’t an accident.”

When the full moon is two days away, Joel is nearing the furthest from himself. Same shit, different month, but his reactions to your scent are getting, well, feral.

They’re bringing him strips of cloth, now. He gets a new one with each meal. He doesn’t destroy them anymore. Oh, no. When he’s clearer, he wishes he did.

But no. He smells and licks and then jerks off with them. If only that were the worst of it. He’ll come to be mortified during the waning, but he starts to add them to the cage. It’s fairly saturated with the smell of him from his old mattress, but it pleases the beast within to line it with the sweet mixture soaked into the torn sheets.

You’ll understand, then, the wolf thinks. You’ll know it’s safe for you. Somewhere he’s made, a den all your own where he can keep you.

But you won’t know, because what you know is very little.

When FEDRA started asking for volunteers to test vaccines, you didn’t hesitate. You knew the risks. And the rewards—room and rations for the length of the observation period, anywhere up to a year in length. You knew there would be a catch—probably many, but given that you rarely had a room or rations, it wasn’t a hard choice.

But this was the end of the world, and “informed consent” was not something that survived the outbreak.

They worked in batches. A truckload of live bodies at a time. Sterilizing showers with the barest trace of privacy, dressed in stiff starchy scrubs, and led into little cubicles where nurses with needles sat in wait.

A quick jab to the upper arm, and then you were off. The hospital was an old correctional facility, but again, for someone who hadn’t had a bed on a reliable basis, you felt only relief.

Until the deaths started.

They didn’t even try to hide it. Within 24 hours of arrival, a fourth of your group was gone. Carted out in black bags marked with β and nothing more said. You watched through your window like everyone else.

Someone came around the next day and drew blood from every remaining subject, and the tagging began after that. You could see the symbols on other’s doors, but not your own. α or Ω. What they meant, you couldn’t begin to guess.

It started not long after.

The changes.

At first it was so subtle, you may not have noticed, but a nurse came by each day to ask you a series of increasingly embarrassing questions.

What do you smell? What do I smell like? What does your sweat smell like? How sensitive are your breasts? Describe your vaginal discharge. How aroused are you on a scale of 1-10?

They began weekly tests. Blood draws once a week and daily urine samples, of course, but also hearing and vision. They made you run on a treadmill hooked up to wires.

And then, one day, after six months of intensive observation, they moved you.

Or. They tried to.

You were exhibiting a specific set of side effects, they said. You were to be transferred to another facility for subjects with the same side effects for further observation.

Raiders took out the truck halfway through the ten-hour journey. It was… it was a bloodbath, actually. For the FEDRA officers, anyway.

When they had you all lined up, grippy socks soaking in the ankle-deep mud, well, that was when you all learned which symbol was on your door. They couldn’t keep the word out of their mouths. Omega.

Not that it fucking explained anything.

One by one, a short blonde with a bob went down the line of you and shoved something up to each omega’s face. That’s it. It seemed to have no greater purpose.

But for some reason, when she pressed the cloth against your nose and mouth, she smiled. And they separated you.

Whatever that was had a deep, oaky musk, like the illicit brewery operating out of the warehouse you often slept in before the trials.

They tell you nothing.

They make you sleep on strips of cloth, so you roll around in the pile as you toss and turn, rubbing your sweat and slick and pheromones all over.

They don’t bring you anything of his, but you catch faint whiffs of him (him, always him, they never call him by a name), of those aged, liquor-soaked barrels, but all it does is make you nauseous. You don’t understand how you know it’s him; you still don’t understand any of it.

You learn very quickly not to ask questions.

They take him out on the night the moon is full and bloated, hanging over him like a searchlight. See, it whispers, I can find you anywhere. Anywhere. It doesn’t matter. If it didn’t, the wolf would find it anyway.

He is not himself.

He is his truest self.

He is two or one; neither yet both. A monster movie mashup of fur and teeth and roughshod science experiments conducted by a doctor who wasn’t a doctor at all. He’s the monster’s victim. He’s the monsters’ monster.

He’s the wolf and the wolf is him.

He’s The Wolf and he’s swallowed Joel down.

He’s the man, the weak link, buried so deep he can’t see the light of his celestial mistress

He’s Joel Miller. Sometimes, sometimes.

Tonight, he is gone. There is only the Wolf.

And the Wolf knows. As soon as they cross the threshold, he knows.

Dawn is rising, the hunt is over, but he’ll be the wolf for a while longer. And he knows that fuckin’ smell.

It’s the saccharine sour mix of you. Heavy on your sweet apple undertones, and oh, he knows.

You’re in the cage.

next chapter

*title from "Bad Moon Rising" by Creedence Clearwater Revival.

😬 I've been working on this baby for a long, long time, so I will be drinking your likes and comments desperately. thank you for reading and i love you.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #alpha!joel miller x omega!reader #alpha!joel miller #werewolf joel miller #the last of us fic #joel miller fic #dark fic #dead dove fic #a/b/o verse #fic: of rage and ruin #a/b/o au

262 notes · View notes

harryistheonlyoneforme · 9 months

Note

Do you do ABO fics?

I Just Want What’s Mine*

warnings: smut, dirty talk, thigh riding, degradation, exhibitionism, abo dynamics, unprotected sex, oral(m receiving)

masterist | harry styles masterlist

a/n: i do, yes. and i thought i added this to my masterlist but it’s been sitting in my google docs since i remade my acc LOL

YN lets out a pained cough as she breathes in the hot, sticky atmosphere of the crowded living room that her and her boyfriend have just entered. The smell of weed and alcohol hits the back of her throat with the first inhale the second her foot crosses the threshold. She can feel her boyfriend’s warm hand on her waist as he keeps her close to him, guiding the two of them through the disarray of bodies that fill the decently sized room. Looking around, YN can see all heads turn to eye them for a split second before flitting away, whispering to the people around them. Soon enough, the house is quiet save for the sound of “Young Folks” by Peter Bjorn and John.

A slight grimace decorates her face, and a dimpled smile adorns his as they get deeper into the house. Harry’s used to this atmosphere, and YN is the exact opposite. She never went to parties unless it was for family, and the only time she drank is when she was alone or with just her and Harry. The pair makes their way over to the couch that is overflowing with bodies, some people on the cushions and others resting on the back. With one look at Harry, they get the message loud and clear just from the look in his eyes. Instantly, group dissipates to give the couple room to sit comfortably. YN is both equally impressed and scared, wondering what Harry did to gain the kind of reputation he has with his pack members. With just a single look, Harry managed to assert his dominance, no words spoken.

Harry gives all of them one last intense stare before he turns to YN and gives her a bright, dimpled smile, motioning to the now empty couch for her to take a seat. She smiles in thanks and sits down, placing her handbag on her lap as he sits as well, throwing his arm onto the back of the couch, resting behind her head. The two sit there for a while as various people come by and say hello, introducing themselves to YN and greeting their pack leader, making sure they don’t get to close to his lover. Harry doesn’t take his eyes off of any of them, watching each individual like a hawk. A deep growl is bubbling in his chest when Jacob, one of the inferior alphas in the pack, gets a bit too close to her, a threatening glint in his eyes as he broadens his shoulders and prepares to attack. Luckily, the man steps away in fear, and YN takes the opportunity to rub at Harry’s hand, calming him down.

The defensive man finally relaxes into the couch at her touch, a soft sigh leaving his lips. They sit and relax there for a while, watching the party happen and having their own little conversations. About ten minutes in, one of Harry’s men ends up bringing them two red solo cups filled with clear alcohol, and Harry makes sure to check it for anything out of the ordinary despite his trust for the other man. When he smells nothing but alcohol in their cups, he passes one to YN for her to sip on as they continue to talk. Sometime when they were talking, Harry had placed his free, ringed hand on YN’s thigh without her noticing, and it was gradually going further and further under her skirt throughout the conversation. YN only notices his intent when he reaches her inner thigh, very close to her vagina. She relaxes into the couch as she realizes that Harry is falling right into her trap. When his hand finally grazes the place where her thighs meet, he realizes that there is no barrier between his hand and her skin.

“Where the fuck are your panties?” he grits out, leaning over to speak directly into her ear, eyes darting up to her face. He immediately takes in the smug smile on her face, realizing this was her plan all along. “Oh, I see,” he hums. “You wanted to get punished tonight, hm?” he whispers against the shell of her ear before biting down gently, continuing. “I don’t think you’d like my punishments tonight, though,” he muses, satisfied with the way her body tenses up at the plural term. The party is awfully quiet, each wolf straining their ears to hear what the couple is speaking about. Some faces are red, eyes on their shoes, while others are listening shamelessly, stopping their actions to hear.

“Do you know who you’re fucking with? Or should I remind you? Think m’gonna. Right here in front of everyone,” he spits, trailing his right hand up her thigh once more. A smirk forms on his face as he sees her right hand that is holding her beverage start to shake slightly, nerves entering her body at his words. “Spread y’legs a bit” he murmurs, and she does so immediately, giving him access to her wet center.

His fingers instantly take purchase on her throbbing clit, a small mewl leaving her parted lips as he rubs directly over the head. Warm Wetness is dripping from her vagina and into her skirt, her hips bucking up into his hand. The second he picks up speed, she moans under her breath, the feeling making her entire body tingle. He keeps his fingers on her clit, not stopping his ministrations as her orgasm builds rather quickly. Just as she gets close to the edge, her legs shaking slightly around his hand, he pulls his fingers away and laughs darkly as he hears her cry out in frustration before turning and burying her face into his shoulder.

The two of them know that every single person in the room can smell her arousal, can hear her sounds of pleasure, but are trying their hardest to ignore it. They all know that if they even look at YN the wrong way, Harry won’t hesitate to end their lives. The rest of the partygoers continue dancing to the music awkwardly, talking and drinking as they try their hardest to ignore the situation happening in the dead center of the party. Tears of frustration are welling in her eyes, her orgasm quickly fading away. Harry, not being able to let her be, decides to tease her a bit.

“Need me to fuck you, hm? Just say the word and I’ll end this party right now so I can fuck you real good. How does that sound, Puppy?” he asks, stroking up and down her thigh with his wet hand. Despite the fact that it isn’t his home, he obviously has the power to end it just for her, and that has her cunt clenching around nothing as she nods furiously into his shoulder.

“Yeah?” he coos, a condescending undertone to his words. YN nods again, this time with a whimper, making him smile in victory. “That’s cute and all, but I need your words, baby,” he warns, a thick whine bubbling in her throat when he doesn’t immediately give in.

She pulls away for just a moment to speak into his ear, her voice desperate and breathy. “Please, Alpha. Need it so bad,” she whines, burying her face into his shoulder once more. He chuckles at her desperation, his cock leaking even more at the compelling smell of her thick arousal in the air. It makes the small room feel even more compact, and he’s instantly growling out his command for everyone to leave, every single alpha, beta, and omega leaving the house in a hurry, wanting their lives to be spared.

Once the room is empty save for the two of them, Harry lifts her skirt and pulls her over to straddle his thigh, pressing her bare cunt against the thick muscle. She gasps as she feels the rough material of his pants against her clit. He barely gives her time to adjust before he’s placing both hands on her hips, helping to move her sopping cunt along his thigh. She nearly falls over at the feeling in her sensitive clit, a broken moan leaving her lips.

“Feel good, baby?” he coos, YN nodding quickly as he works her along the thick muscle. “Look at that. Y’just soaking my pants, sweet girl. ” he teases, and she doesn’t even have the energy to make a rebuttal, letting him help her cum. Moans are leaving her lips as another orgasm builds, and she can only let it happen, hoping he’ll let her cum this time.

“Gonna cum,” she whispers, her breath catching in her throat as he cunt literally quivers against his thigh, and he’s immediately holding her onto him firmly, stopping her movements. She’s instantly tearing up again, falling into his chest and babbling wordlessly as her orgasm fades away once more. Harry removes a hand from her hip and places it onto her back, rubbing up and down gently as he knows he’s being really mean.

“What do you need, baby?” he asks her, hearing her whine. “Use y’words, Puppy. Can’t understand what you need when you’re all dumb for me. Haven’t even given you m’cock yet and you can’t even use your words. Do I really have that effect on you?” he teases, watching her get all shy and embarrassed. “No need to be ashamed, Lovie. Just tell me what y’need, pup,” he tuts, grabbing her chin gently to coax her into making eye contact with him.

“Need you deep inside me, please. Need to feel you, for you to make me cum. I’ll be such a good girl for you I swear,” she whines, nuzzling into his grip. He hums in satisfaction, looking into her glossy eyes, sensing how bad she needs it. He needs it too, so he decides to put the both of them out of their misery.

“Alright, baby. Ass up” he says, landing one last smack on her sore ass cheek to get her going. She’s instantaneously scrambling to prop up onto the back of the couch, Harry kneels in order to slide behind her. “Ready for me?” he asks, gripping the base of his thick cock, preparing her for him.

She nods and lets out a whimper as she feels his weepy tip swipe through her swollen folds, mewling for him to get into her. He decides to end her suffering, sliding in her tight opening inch by inch, her walls stretching to accommodate him. The both of them groan out into the thick air of the room, and a slight squelching can be heard as he slides into her, bottoming out. Her eyes flutter closed as she feels every vein on his cock against her velvety walls, the slight sting of him stretching her out making her whimper.

Harry stays that way for a while, his hips flush to hers as he relishes in the feeling of her warm, wet walls around his shaft. She feels so fucking good he doesn’t know how long he’ll last before he’s exploding into her. The second he feels like he won’t explode with one thrust, he pulls out until his tip is resting at her entrance before pushing all the way back into her, sliding against her g-spot. She’s moaning into the arm of the couch, tears building in her eyes as she takes in every ounce of pleasure he’s giving her.

“How’s it feeling, Puppy?” he asks over her whines, a smile on his face when she physically can’t answer. “Is that deep enough for you? Feel me deep in y’tummy?” he coos, his cock twitching when she nods and presses her ass against his hips. “So fucking good around me, baby” he moans, still fucking her slow and deep.

He pulls out once more before slamming into her harder, a surprised yelp leaving her lips at the change. “Fuck!” she exclaims against the fabric, her hands fisting the cushions. She’s nearly ripping the cushions with her nails, gripping onto them tightly as he drills into her perfectly. Harry is literally so deep inside her, filling her to the brim as he stuffs every inch of his cock inside with each thrust. She’s so full of him she can barely breathe, gasping for air with each and every plunge. He can feel her starting to clench already, her past orgasms coming back at full speed.

“Y’gonna cum, m’love? Hm? Gonna soak m’cock before I let you rest?” he pants, rubbing up and down her back as her entire body locks up, her orgasm moments away. She nods into the cushions once more, biting down on the fabric as she holds back until she has permission. “Okay, Puppy. Cum for me, cum for your alpha like a good little pup” he coos, and no more than five seconds later, she’s cumming all over his cock with a shout, a thick layer of cream covering the base of him.

He doesn’t stop fucking her, riding out her orgasm. With each thrust, he feels more and more of her cream coat him, leaving his lower belly sticky with her orgasm. He fucks her until her body goes limp against the couch before pulling out slowly and making his way around to where her head is, her body twitching with the aftershocks. He rubs a hand over her head, watching her relax into it.

“Can you go again or should I just clean y’up?” he rasps, despite his throbbing cock still needing stimulation. She says nothing, propping herself up and leaning forward to take his cock into her mouth, suckling on the red, weepy head of it. A groan is bubbling from deep in his chest and he’s trying to refrain from bucking into her mouth. He’s instantly sent over the edge when YN takes all of him into her mouth and down into her throat, his head thrown back and his mouth dropped open in a silent scream. She sucks him dry, cleaning every last drop of cum from his cock as his legs shake in overstimulation.

Whining, he pulls away from her and makes eye contact. “You didn’t have to do that, baby” he pants. “Was just gonna clean you up” he says, rubbing over her head gently. She just shakes her head, a yawn leaving her lips.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever, I know. Just get over here and cuddle me. M’tired,” she whispers, reaching up to pull him toward her. He chuckles at his perfect girlfriend, lying down on the couch before flattening her onto him, wrapping his arms around her. The two fall asleep within a few minutes, right there in the center of the room.

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sommerregenjuniluft · 1 month

Text

@jegulus-microfic 6 & 16 march - scent & arrange - 2329 words

have some 1800ish-something a/b/o jegulus curtsey of me rewatching bridgerton over the last few days lol (the soundtrack goes so unnecessarily hard)

Regulus is in need of a drink, and Regulus is in need of it fast.

His useless Alpha excuse of a brother is nowhere to be found, has left him alone amongst the bloodthirsty throng of eligible Alpha bachelors of the ton and Regulus is but a piece of medium rare steak marinating in his own juices. No pun intended.

Regulus is supposed to have his first dance of the evening with his newly engaged fiance which he, not to mention, has yet to even meet and none of his family or friends are in a reachable vicinity to aid their support.

He is going to throw a fit.

The padded mesh cloth around his throat is so tight he feels unable to breathe, there are a dozen different scents wafting at him from all sides at any given moment and Regulus feels stupid with it. And not in a positive sense, just– horribly overwhelmed. Dizzy from the sensory overload.

He desperately needs something to take off the edge.

Cue, the drinks buffet.

He’s almost at his destined location when he collides with a warm chest.

“Oh, careful there,” a deep voice responds, grip tight on Regulus’ shoulder but not untoward.

But Regulus is already in a foul mood, insults read at the tip of his tongue, bitter and stinging.

“Are you not in possession of a working pair of ey—” the last syllable dissolves uselessly on his palate before it can do more damage when Regulus is, with a sudden burst of clarity, pulled from his distressed state in an instant.

Cloaked in a realm of fresh outside air, meadow and wood, like someone had opened a window directly beside Regulus to rescue him from his torment. He breathes in again, greedily, taking in the patchouli and vetiver notes. Something rich and friendly that immediately lulls Regulus into a much more acceptable mood, shoulders untensing, heartbeat slowing. His body’s reaction quite similar to whenever Sirius is scenting him.

That’s before he looks up at the man though.

He’s all bronze skin and unruly dark hair in the most endearing sloppy way that it infiltrates Regulus with the urge to reach out his twitching fingertips and righten the mess, kind brown eyes behind perfectly round, wire-framed glasses and the most dazzling smile Regulus has laid his eyes upon this evening or ever, maybe.

Which currently twitches wider at the corners, at Regulus’ loss for words, presumably, making him blink violently and stoop into a hastened curtsey.

“My apologies, Lord–” Regulus cuts himself off, realising he doesn’t even know the man’s title nor name. He could be a foreign duke, a prince even, for all that Regulus knows. Or, rather, doesn’t know.

“Just James,” the Alpha responds. With his given name, of all things, much to Regulus’ confusion.

He’s smiling warmly down at Regulus, if a little amused, holding a respectable amount of distance that he has stepped back into.

The grin makes Regulus feel all kinds of woozy and cotton-mouthed and out of sorts despite the lack of just one drop of alcohol having landed on his tongue. A spectacle he must appear as, gnawing at his bottom lip and gawking at the unnecessarily handsome stranger like a simpleton without getting a single word out.

The Alpha cocks his head, grin widening and Regulus finally finds it in himself to rip his stare away when there’s a waiter gliding past them with even more champagne on a tray. Reminding him as to why he’s made his way over here in the first place. Regulus snatches up a glass and downs half of it in one go, going against every single thing his family have ever taught him but he can honestly be less bothered right this moment given they have all abandoned him anyways. Stupid Papa with his stupid business arrangements. Stupid Maman with her ever so unsatisfied need of new gossip. Stupid Sirius and his stupid staff mistress.

“And you might be…?” the same warm voice says, a little closer now.

“You’re still here?” Regulus throws over his shoulder, aiming for annoyed, though the question coming out strained and to his surprise, yet again, he gets a laugh in response.

He turns, allows himself to properly look this time and there’s mischief dancing in James’ eyes as he raises dark brows, “Is there something troubling you?”

“Is there ever not?” Regulus sighs, taking another sip against his better judgement. Anything to drown out the reminder of his predicament.

“Well, as your self-proclaimed rescuer in this clearly distressing time of need, I am all ears,” the stranger offers with a cheeky smile.

Regulus narrows his eyes, his unused arm wrapping protectively around his front.

The Alpha narrows his eyes in imitation, lips straining with a dimpled grin, apparently finding ridiculous amounts of joy in Regulus’ miserable state, though he doesn’t look the type to be of malicious intent. A jokester, perhaps, someone silly and rather unregarding of any rules, maybe—much like Sirius, actually, and Regulus, despite their differences and how horribly annoying he can be at times, would be the last one to label his big brother as a bad person.

And, well, desperate times and all.

Regulus sucks in a big, steadying breath, “I am to dance with my fiance in mere minutes.”

A pause. “Then I understand congratulations must be in order,” James bows his head, teeth digging into his lower lip as his grin widens impossibly.

“Certainly not,” Regulus hisses, outraged, “What about me at the very moment says happily engaged Omega, I must inquire?!”

“Mm, the distressed frown and wide squirrel-about-to-be-shot-eyes, of course.”

Regulus ignores him, on a roll now, feeling the rush of complaining tug on him like a wild current, “I do not even know the man, have yet to even meet him. For all I know he could be a troll! An ogre of a man, or worse; an Alpha ready to bore me to death!”

“Or he might be the most handsome, charming, talented, ingenious, chivalrous, witty Alpha for miles—perhaps the whole continent?” James counters, ducking closer.

His scent increases for a second and Regulus has to take a moment as he feels it settle on the back of his tongue to remind himself of his manners. Face flushed, he turns to look back into the room, desperate for distraction. Settled on the musicians, watching them play their violins and the pianoforte, Regulus sniffs primly, “Or a troll.”

A snort, smile evident in his voice when the Alpha speaks next, “Well, I suppose there is only one way to find out.”

“Or,” Regulus says pointedly, taking another big gulp of the sparkling alcohol, “I pretend to faint and you will be witness for my family to convince them to take me back home where I shall crawl under the covers and feign illness until the very end of the courting season.”

“And what if I told you that you can’t hide forever?” James ducks his head to catch his gaze and Regulus rolls his eyes into his champagne glass, “You might have already been found out before you even know.”

“Then I would tell you that you underestimate me,” he replies, turning back to him and leaving the sight of musicians as the ballroom fills up.

“Hmm,” the Alpha makes sceptically.

“Hmm,” Regulus mocks, wobbling his head.

James narrows his eyes, mouth twitching, “Are you mocking me?”

“I would never dream of it, my Lord,” Regulus answers.

James makes a noise resembling an indulgent Sure and takes the almost empty glass out of Regulus’ grip and replaces it with another. The new glass is more curved, with a glittering golden rim and the liquid inside equally sparkling but with a delightful added hue of soft pink.

It looks enticing but Regulus knows better than to trust just any obscure Alpha, “Are you trying to get me drunk, my Lord?”

This time it’s James’ turn to roll his eyes, “Take a sip.”

He doesn’t use the voice yet Regulus finds himself almost eager to obey nonetheless, so he lifts the glass to his lips.

It’s lemonade.

When Regulus looks back up, licking his lips off the residue, James cocks his head expectantly with a smirk.

Regulus can’t stand his arrogance.

It’d do him some good to be knocked down at least several pegs. Regulus certainly wouldn’t pass the opportunity to volunteer for the task. Wipe that self-assured grin right off his face and for some reason there is heat crawling up into Regulus’ cheeks suddenly—the champagne must be getting to him.

He sniffs quickly, eyes darting away to occupy his gaze with something else and falling to swirl along the intricate pattern on James’ coat. His broad chest is well on display with the way his hands are folded at the small of his back.

Regulus blinks again, studying James and the way he’s been standing next to Regulus at the drinks buffet for minutes without ever attempting to take one for himself.

“You’re not drinking?” he asks curiously, brushing an errant curl back behind his ear.

James does something weird then. A flutter of his lashes, nostrils flaring, and his jaw drops open slightly. A breath punches out of him that tapers into a chuckle as he slips into a grin, averting his eyes for a moment.

He winces slightly, still smiling, and then takes another half step closer. Regulus narrows his eyes in warning but James just keeps the short distance, grinning shamelessly. “Well, actually, I came to the buffet because I could have sworn I smelled lemon tart—see, they’re my favourite.”

Regulus frowns, head swivelling to glance behind James’ big form, along the length of the table, occupied solely by glasses of champagne and lemonade. He turns back to James, a derisive scoff tumbling from the centre of his chest that would have earned Regulus a sharp warning glance from his mother, “Perhaps you should consider a visit to the Doctor, my Lord. Your sense of smell must be awfully off.”

Or maybe he’s just particularly dull. Well, Regulus thinks, it is only fair this way. If you’re already this handsome and well-built you don’t deserve to be a genius as well. Balance of nature and all.

The Alpha’s grin does not wane though and Regulus feels a shiver run up the curve of his spine when the tall Alpha hums in a deep timber. “My nose works just fine, actually,” James tilts his head to the side, eyes wandering down Regulus’ face towards his neck, “As opposed to your scarf.”

It takes a moment and then Regulus’ mouth drops open. Oh, the sheer audacity. A sound of disbelief jumps from his dry throat, “I beg your pardon?”

“Oh, no need, I am perfectly capable of controlling myself even with such a delicious treat dangled right in front of my nose,” James grins. It’s infuriating.

Regulus can feel the vein in his forehead popping with his anger, “Have you no manners?!”

“I certainly do,” he volleys back, “I just take my liberties with whenever to apply them.”

“Well, then I advise you to take a tighter reign of them when in the company of strangers,” Regulus spits, cheeks warm.

It’s just that James is still so close, smelling divine and knee-weakening and now that he’s been made aware he can’t help but notice their scents mixing in the air surrounding them. Their space neither of them seems quite taken to leaving, creating a wonderful concoction of syrupy sweet-sour citrus and heavy spicy-woodsy musk.

“There will be no need around you then, Regulus,” James counters and Regulus gasps, head reeling, feeling like he’s just fallen from his horse, “Given you are my fiance, love.”

Oh, there is no way.

No.

This must be a joke.

Regulus feels like his eyes are about to pop out of their sockets as he eyes the length of the Alpha again. The tousled black hair, the handsome features, the pleasant build, the clearly expensive clothing. Reminded of the fact that his aristocratic, powerful family would never arrange an engagement with anyone less than fully deserving for their only Omega. “You–”

“Allow me to introduce myself,” he grins, stooping into a curtsey, “James Potter, Duke of Godric’s Hollow.”

“Oh, goodness in the heavens.”

“Now I believe I was promised a First Dance?” James looks in no way angry with Regulus’ disrespect, if anything, just as amused and cheerful as the whole time. The whole time in which he evidently knew who he was talking to, making a right fool of Regulus, just for the fun of it.

Regulus barely has the time to pout when the Alpha already continues, “I think that is the least you can do after calling me an ugly tr—”

“Yes,” Regulus cuts him off, clearing his throat, “I will dance with you.”

Something softer shimmers in James’ warm, chocolate eyes and then Regulus gasps silently when a warm hand touches the gloved curve of his palm, “I am nothing short of delighted to hear that, love.”

They step onto the dance floor together, hands entwined and basking in each other’s presences. Regulus feels fizzy and warm on the inside.

James is witty and interesting, effortlessly able to keep Regulus on his toes—both metaphorically and literally—and excellent dancer and an even more stunning conversationalist. Not to mention, quite easy on the eye. And Regulus doesn’t even want to get started on James’ scent again.

One dance turns into many, turns into walking around the room side by side bickering and gossiping and laughing, turns into a lively game of chess, turns into wandering through the halls and appraising art, turns into Regulus passing out on James’ shoulder on a settee before Sirius eventually finds them and takes him home.

The next day, James is there in the drawing room for tea, as he promised he would. Regulus has told the kitchen staff to prepare lemon tart.

And the rest is history.

#jegulus #jegulus microfic #regulus is wearing the prettiest emerald suit it's not mentioned but i need yall to know for the big picture #starchaser #sunseeker #jegulus fluff #a/b/o au #james potter #regulus black #arranged marriage #all the silly funny cute tropes #might make more of this if the little bridgerton obsession stays #james potter x regulus black #regulus black x james potter #lune’s tiny fic

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seventhcallisto · 4 months

Text

Chapter VIII — "sensitive."

Deep down.

A/n: MDNI!!! MATURE CONTENT! smut under the cut. It's literally pure filth for jongho. There is absolutely no plot in this except for jongho being whipped. It's a lot. Bear with me!!

Toc + cw: semi-hard dom jongho(through the first half)/switch jongho. sub/switchy reader. guided masterbation (f. Receiving) fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, unprotected sex (*gasps of false shock*) biting, boob worship, marking, slapping(ONCE), backshots(drink!), tummy bulge...., jonghos' mouth is kinda filthy, jjong has a noona kink low-key. There's a slight breeding kink in there, knotting!! Tugging!!, lots of cum, aftercare, big dick jongho, snuggly jongho, fluff!! Love you's after smex.

pet names/nns: doll, pretty, jagi(ya), noona, c0ck wh0re(once), little/cub (yours). jjongie, jjong, alpha, teddy bear (jongho's). min, (mingi's).

Wc: 8.6k

Jongho has an attitude that's hard to see, a personality that can be hard to grasp. That's what he's heard before, what he's read before- and he finds it accurate. Every time he says that, he remembers all the times you've caught him, as if he shared his feelings on his sleeves. The way your eyes scan him whenever you notice the tiniest detail is off, it's happened a lot.

You'd be kind enough to gift the young alpha a blanket if he seems to be curling in on himself a little more than usual. How you'd slip your hot pack into his palms if you catch him rubbing them together, when you'd make sure he was able to get a word in if his eyes seemed to light up at the topic of conversation, that's when he began yearning for you. Your simple affections had caught the alpha by storm. Taking care of him like you were his noona. It wasn't so simple when his friends began noticing it too.

Commenting on how often the two of you went viral for things that seemed more lovey-dovey than normal. How'd they ask occasionally if he was courting you yet, often in alpha traditions that had been abandoned decades ago. His friends could see jongho being old fashioned. Hell, even he himself could see that he preferred the tradition of courting. Maybe that's why he began doing it oh so subtly. Comforting you when you're nervous. Handing you anything he seems good enough for you. Sharing his clothing.

Buying you things, food, clothing, jewelry. He felt sick to his stomach with anxiety as you opened everything he gave you. Just wishing for your approval.

He had been courting you in his own way, unbeknownst to you and him. But in reality, he knew he was courting you, why else would he stop to look at a matching set of promise rings? He just didn't want to be rejected, so he kept it to himself. Kept his yearning to a minimum. And pretended like his heart didn't race when you called his name.

You had so casually swayed over, taking his hands in your own and spinning back and forth. You circled him as he sang. The caressing of your hands over his shoulders and waist as you leaned into him happily. Bouncing on the balls of your feet. Your group's song playing over the speaker. You all had just won an award. Yet the only thing jongho could keep his eyes on was you bouncing and swaying to the beat over his shoulder. Smiling brightly. Mumbling the lyrics into your mic flawlessly along with him.

Perhaps that's when jongho realized he was in love with you, or that he had known he would never love anyone else like he did you.

You trust jongho to guide you through the door of his shared room. Hands never leaving your hips, sliding down to nudge against the hem of your shorts just on the curve of your back. Strong and heavy and pushing you backwards, a waltz you can't see or predict because he's suffocating you with his tongue, shoving it around your own and swiping up every little noise you let out. Telling you to be quiet, so the other members can't see or hear you two entering their bedroom.

Jongho thought for a minute to take you on the counter in the bathroom, but why do that, when he could have his sheets covered in your scent? It'll give him something to remember. His hands pry the hoodie off, the shirt sticking to your skin, it's tossed somewhere in the room. Once your foot hits the edge of his bed you're falling atop it, splayed out so prettily in a daze for the younger alpha. Your hands reach for him, gripping the end of his shirt as you try to pull him above you.

He's staring and he knows he's staring. Your eyes squint, shyly. “Don't look at me like that” you mumble with your oh so swollen lips, he has a hard time stopping his lip from jolting up into a guilty smile, his hands coming around to grip the edge of the bed next to your thighs. “I'm allowed to stare, you're beautiful” he says honestly with a dreamy sigh, ignoring your protest, he goes on, holding eye contact as he’s leaning over your form with his strong arms that flex against the shirt he wears. He looks you over once for the go ahead, brown eyes caring and attentive. “Hurry jjongie” you huff.

His hands are rough, pulling your shorts and underwear off in one go, fingers digging their way down around the plush of your outer thighs. You whimper when you almost come off the bed, legs falling between jonghos. Again he stares, his hands sliding up to round up your thighs in his thicker hands and part them, your glistening cunt on display from the angle he bends your thighs to the side at. As he does you shift back to scoot up the bed. It's no use cause he holds you there, you're getting shy, legs attempting to close.

“Don't, I want to see you.” His eyes peek up from where you're leaking, his teeth prying his lip to hold back. You shake your head. “Stop staring” you mumble, turning your head away from him and closing your eyes. His hand snakes up your jaw, tugging you back to look at him.

“Show me how you play with yourself” he demands, eyes piercing. Your heart thumps out, jaw falling slack in his grasp. He pries your hand from the sheets of his bed, guiding it up to his lips. He's using his own fingers to guide yours into his own mouth, eyes prying as he gathers the slick on his tongue over your own digits, you let him guide you, a satisfied groan slipping past his lips when your knuckles bump the ridge top of his mouth.

He takes them out not a second after he deems them lubed up enough. His eyes cascade down your body, dipping your fingers along with his, he places them over your cunt, leaving them there for you to go on.

“Show me” his eyebrow shoots up as he demands again, eyes slotting from your flush expression back to the fingers he left over your cunt. He wants a show. And you're gonna give him one. You push them to open your lips, sighing softly. You slip one of your fingers in, then a second one, and pump them slowly. Gathering your palm to rub circles against your neglected clit.

He laughs lightly, it's a teasing sound, one that has you clenching your thighs close. He pulls them open again easily. “Come on doll, you can do better than that” he hums, glancing up at you. His hands come over to press against the curves of your thighs. Lifting you up so he can see you better, it's lewd and an exposing position that has you biting your tongue to hide any embarrassing noises.

He scoffs, using one of his hands to grip your jaw, it's not tight, just enough to get you to part your mouth open. There's a pinch in his eyes, a glint that has you staring back wide eyed. “Don't hide. Let me hear you.” His round eyes are piercing, he thumbs your palm out of the way to circle his thumb against your clit, slow agonizing circles that have you arching up into your own fingers.

“Jjongie-” You gasp when his thumb leaves, eyeing him up as he continues to look down at your cunt. His fingers prod your opening, that's when your jaw falls slack. He's pushing two of his digits in with your own, rubbing against the underside of your knuckles with his wider and heavier fingers.

“I didn't tell you to stop” he mumbles, pushing your thigh up again with his free hand that was just on your jaw. He's still digging his way inside, wiggling you open with little angled thrusts of his fingertips. “Keep going doll, use your fingers” you slowly pump them in again with his command, feeling the underside of his own fingers against your own steadily being slicked up. You feel a bit full with four fingers inside you, reaching for that spot that you can hardly reach.

Jongho seems to understand what you're doing, your own little moans picking up the farther you try to reach. “Mm, can't reach jagi? I'll help you” he shushes you softly. When he starts moving them you whimper, they're pressing down to move past your own, although you've had four cocks that are a thousand times bigger than your fingers, you miss how full you've been. Your stomach turns in knots, trying to reach an orgasm that's not gonna come without jonghos help.

You're slipping your fingers slightly out of your walls before you can even realize why. Jongho stops moving, gripping your wrist with his hand that's halfway buried inside you, stilling your fingers from coming out any more. “Where do you think you're going?” He scoffs, eyeing you as if you had the nerve to even pull yourself out. “Jongho-” You hiccup when he bottoms his fingers inside you, pistoning them to the hilt, a steady rhythm he begins setting himself as he grinds them over your other fingers. His free thumb digging into your clit.

“You don't listen,” he sighs, falsely upset. “Need me to do it all by myself” he whines into his words quietly. Thick thighs coming up to part your thigh over his lap. You twitch as he catches speed, free fingers wrapping around your wrist and pulling them in and out with his own, getting you to open up. Your walls clench and unclench in a rhythm. When jonghos thumb drives your clit up and down in faster circular movements your face scrunches up.

He's got his fingers so deep in you, digging your own so deep in with his. Dragging them in and out and trying to pry for your g-spot. He reaches it easily with his own, feeling you jolt when he prods the spot.

“there it is, that wasn't so hard” he coos. You're gasping as he bullies the spot, fingertips prodding it for reactions. Your thighs are clenching hard, twitching at the stimulus.

“jongho m-” your orgasm washes over quickly, legs attempting to close because it's too much. He keeps his bullying pace, digging his fingers in to stretch your orgasm until the last drop.

You're panting as he finishes and pulls his fingers out with yours, gasps falling off the tip of your tongue. That was almost world shattering, he was rough- not like you didn't enjoy it, but the slapping of his palm against your sensitive cunt left you feeling tingly.

“What do you say, pretty?” he places your fingertips on his tongue, sucking your juices off. He hums when he takes them out, kissing up your stomach to where your shirt has ridden up. You wiggle, panting gently into the air. He wants you to thank him for your orgasm. It's authoritative- yet you like it.

“Thank you”

He hums against your skin. “You're so welcome little cub” he says with such fondness the tone behind it doesn't catch your ears. He's lifting his fingers under your shirt, kissing the skin as it becomes more revealed the more he pulls it up. It's agonizingly slow. Taking his time with you. Memorizing your skin against his lips. The bottom stops just short of the roundness of your breasts.

He kisses the plumpness of them from where they pool out, teeth nibbling on them the next second. You audibly jolt, gasping lightly. Your hands move to thread through his hair. Tugging on the soft strands. He seems to grow impatient, cause in the next second he's hiking your legs up his waist and pushing you further up the bed. Helping you remove wooyoung's shirt.

Jonghos plump lips still remain glued to your chest, kissing around your prickling skin, against the hardening expansions of your nipples. He's using both of his hands to grip them, the fat pooling between his thick fingers.

You can make out the pattern of his lips following the shape of a heart, he takes the nub of your hardened nipple into his mouth, sucking and tugging. You bite your lip, crying behind a whine. You squeeze him tighter, grinding up into his sweats over his stomach. He hums back, gravelly and heavy, glancing up to look you in the eyes. He pays equal attention to both of them. Rolling them in his hands. Warm and hot at the same time.

“Jongho” you pout “need you” he pops off your nipple with a smile, kissing the irritated skin. “Where?” He asks, kissing up to your neck, in search of the spot that has you clenching. He'll leave a mark, only cause he knows you don't have any activities soon. And because he can't help it. He wants to mark you as his- as theirs. To tell anyone else to fuck off. Just to fulfill that urge to be possessive of you.

You pout despite knowing he can't see it. “Inside” you mumble quietly. Jongho seems to catch it, head placed right on the swell of where your neck meets your shoulder. Breathing against your skin as his fingers rake up the length of your body. Mapping out every inch of you. He slides them down to your hips, sitting up quickly. You're being flipped over before you can gasp, jongho using his strength to move you.

“inside right?” He leans over you, breathing against your head propped up on his pillow. His erection skims the plump of your ass, making you lean into him. It's all jongho in his bed. Laundry, florals, all consuming. You dig your face into it some more. “Yes” you wiggle your hips to caress against his bulge. Teasingly so. He curses under his breath. Jongho works behind you, stripping off his shirt and sweats in an array of fabric noises. If you could peek, you would. But he's already lifting your hips up to slot a pillow under your pelvis, making you more leveled with him.

You know exactly what he's doing, teasing you by staying out of view. You whimper when his hands spread your cheeks open. It's like his eyes leave a trail of heat on you.

“Been wanting to do this since you put on that show earlier” he scoffs, edging into a smile. The slick of his cock tip digging into the underside of your cunt makes you clench, he's gathering your slick to rub it along his length. He must be referring to when you lightly grazed your legs on the inner side of his thighs.

“You're so sensitive” you mumble through the haze, jongho stops, and maybe then you realize you're actually talking back. “Say that again doll,” jongho encourages, hands grasping your thighs right under the swell of your ass. There's a tone there. He squeezes tightly. “i- I didn't mean it-” you wiggle, wishing for that added pressure of his cock again. He smacks your cheek once, the flesh stinging. You yelp into the pillow placed under your head.

“Sure you didn't? Huh?” He's mean, mumbling into his words as he pulls his dick between your lips again, poking and prodding your hole with tiny gasp and a drawn out groan. “sensitive,” he repeats what you say.

“We'll see who's sensitive.” there's no build up to the way jongho flattens his hips against your ass or the way his cock slides in easily, you're soaked, his pillow too. You gasp at the complete size of him, clawing up on the pillow as if it's going to save you from sinking further as jongho pushes his full length in. His groan is cut off, head falling into your shoulder as he props himself above your back.

He digs his free hand that's not holding him up to under you, sliding it down to press against your stomach. You choke as he presses down on his bulge, there's an indention from his cock nestled against your walls.

“Feel that?” He breathily says, pulling out til the tip of him sticks in, you whine at the loss, loosing his wide length as he goes. It's not long he's gone, hand still over the spot he once was at before he's plowing back into you. Hips snapping. “That's how deep I am” he groans when his tip prods his palm.

You flutter, chest heaving as you throw your hips back to meet the hard and bruising pase jongho is setting. He knows his own strength, he has his own self control. Somehow he isn't using all of it to rearrange your guts. “So tight, already had four cocks- and you're still this tight?” He grumbles. Lips falling over your ear, your head digs down, gasps and moans that get cut off cause of every slap of jonghos hips.

It's loud, it's sticky, and your slick is already coating jonghos dick and thighs.

“You're so messy” he sits up to gaze down at your cunt, using your back as leverage to lean his wide palm. Your hips meet every thrust of his, guiding him in easily.

You're clenching around him, whimpering into the pillow. “I bet you get off on this noona, having all your members plow their way into you. You're our cock whore now, yeah?” his eyes never part from your wet core. He's scoffing when you squeeze, clearly enjoying his words. You can't even respond, already too lost in jongho to think.

“You do” he hums, groaning shamelessly into the back of his palm as it comes around to cover his mouth. He's so loud already, he really can't control it. Attempting to bite back every groan that slips, “bet they enjoy it just as much as you do.” he leans over, squishing you completely with his body weight, the angle is harder to move in, so instead you just let jongho use you.

“gonna take you every rut and use you, just like this” jonghos fantasies are seeping into every word. Who knows where these new feelings came from, or the way he's bullying you as his cock gives you exactly what you want.

“shit- keep you so full.” There's a louder breathier moan that comes from his mouth, when he completely digs his dick back in, bottoming out every thrust. His hands come around to the sides of you, knees planted firmly on each outer side of your thigh. Heavy and rutting up every time he thrusts forward.

You can feel his skin scrape against your own, warm and new, skin that you haven't ever felt before from jongho. “Want to-” you moan quietly, “see you” you whine when he pulls out, length taken away and leaving you alone without him to fill you.

You're flipped back over onto your side as jongho comes behind you, spreading your thigh over his hip. He kisses your shoulder as he lines himself up again, throbbing against his fingers as he guides it in. You sigh as you're filled again. Head falling against his chest, just under his chin. He grabs the leg on your hip and widens you further, scrunching your leg up under his strong arm.

“Can't- jongho- alpha-” You whimper at the stretch in your muscles. “I need to be able to reach you jagi” he sighs, groaning through his words. His palm falls over your stomach again where the dent of him lies inside. His thrusts are slower this time, no doubt trying to hold off his orgasm. You're already so close to your own, even before he pulled himself out.

With every hard twitch of his thighs, he's slipping in and out of you. A heavy thump as he hits your cervix at the perfect angle. You gasp every time, tingling building up in your gut. You reach your arm behind you to hold him, threading it into the back of his head where his soft hair is. “Want you to cum, you got too.” he whimpers, the first time he has, just as your eyes take over his. Warm and lustful and round, more softer than they were minutes ago. The sight is peeling an orgasm out of you that has you shaking in jonghos grasps.

Jaw falling open. Jongho takes it as his opportunity to cut you off with a sloppy kiss, his heavy rhythm picking up. Both of his hands come around to grip the bulge of your stomach, dropping your thigh back over his hip. “Just like that- ah. fuck.” He curses quietly, thrusts slowing and becoming sloppy, he bottoms completely inside you. Knot swelling and keeping you close, jongho pulses inside you, hard. His head falling against the pillow next to you when his eyebrows scrunch and his own jaw falls slack. A shuddered gasp pulling from his throat.

A lot of his cum pools deep in you, even so much as spilling out around jonghos knot, you shudder at the warmth, hot and thick and consuming your insides with just jongho.

You grasp for his hand as you come down with him, he reaches back out, smoothing his palm over your tummy and gathering your fingers between his own. Adoring eyes scanning your features, your face shows no discomfort, just sleepiness. It's quite often you get tired after sex, and just like jongho everyone has noticed this. “Are you tired?” Jongho asks with a quiet sigh, planting a kiss on your temple. He's kept himself up, front pressed to your back so you can remain close.

You shake your head. “‘m comfortable, I like being full” you almost purr. Lost in your own afterglow. The younger alpha digs his nose into your shoulder; breathing in your scent as he looks across your body. Hickeys and bite marks align your neck, reaching your most sacred primal spot. They trail all the way down your breasts like patches of butterflies, stopping just below the bottom most round spot of your breasts. Your stomach is completely untouched, left to look round and untainted.

Jongho internally laughs, as if the spot were to be filled. Left untainted so it could be full of pups and cum, their pups. And their cum.

His hips jolt forward. You jump too. Jongho shushes you, softly apologizing. “Sorry, can't help it” he whimpers softly, head digging into your shoulder to calm himself. You press back against him, already asking for more softly. “jongho” you preen when the alpha kisses your neck, head pulling to the side. When you clench his hand over your stomach, jongho feels you flutter around him. A shudder sigh being pulled out of his lungs. “m- please, please move jjongie. Need more” you whimper, already swinging your hips back into him.

He shudders, head pulling out of your neck to look at you, gripping your hips. “You have all of me, pretty, i'm already so deep,” he builds a slow thrust, knot still pulling against you, your breath hiccups at the stretch when he pulls too far out, threatening to take his knot with him. He never does though, pulling it all the way back in, but only slightly out as he slowly works his cock in and out of you. Gradually bringing you two to that edge, even if your thighs are shaking from overstimulation.

You fall halfway over onto your stomach to hide your face into the pillows, jaw falling slack in a silent whine. You're so close, just barely any friction on jonghos part and you're already gonna cum. jongho follows you body with his own, leaning onto his knee to prop himself back over you, gasping short as you spasm around his cock. “jjongie- just like that- gonna cum” you warn him, he hums, strangled as he bottoms completely in you in another heavy thrust. The squelch of your already mixture of cum creating sticky sounds against your bodies. Jonghos eyes cloud over as he stares. It's a sight he prefers over everything else, your slick and his cum is gathering along his length and over your pussy, every time he pulls out more comes with him.

He audibly whimpers when you squeeze him again, overstimulating himself, his knot is not helping. It's painful but it's so good. The perfect mixture of pain and pleasure. “I'm gonna cum- You're gonna take all of it right?- ah. mm.” he bites on his lips to stiff any moans. “Cumming- ah- jongho” you gasp with a call of his name, fingers straining against his sheets. In the midst of going through it, you're flipped back into your side as jongho drapes himself completely over you, pushing your hips as he bends down to bite on your collarbone. Teeth digging deep, his hand once holding him up pulls your face into his neck, signaling you to do the same.

You tremble as you flutter around his cock, overstimulated in the best way. Your bite is wide, positioned a bit too close to a spot he can't hide well. Oh well. Hoodies and crewnecks it is. Jongho cums quickly after a few more shallow thrusts with your name falling off his tongue. Cum painting your walls in more of his scent, it gathers and works to push around his knot, pooling under your pelvis and ruining the sheet. He whimpers into your skin, pulling his teeth back enough to kiss the quickly bruising and deep spot, shallow thrusts as he guides you both through the aftermath.

You tap out quickly after, pushing against his hips as best you can. “too much-” you whimper, panting, jongho sighs as he falls on top of you. Clearly hoping you'd say that. His hands landing on either side to support himself up so he isn't squishing you, breathing harshly against your back. He swallows heavily.

“who's sensitive now”

You laugh lightly, tilting your head up so you can look at him, his boba eyes are endearing, forehead shiny with sweat. “shut up” your hand snakes around his neck, pulling him back in for a sweet kiss. A loving peck that lasts a second of comfort before you're falling back into the pillow, completely lost of strength. Jongho levels down with you, attempting to hold himself up. He's trying. It's not working well, his limbs are slowly becoming jelly.

“Move over” he asks with a kiss on your neck, eyes never leaving your lax face, you peek your eyes open and sigh, struggling to turn in his grasp, you both struggle for a solid second, attempting to rearrange your limbs without hurting the knot tied between you two. You both just end up sideways, facing each other in a mix of limbs. You're able to actually see jongho and all his beauty, he hides all of that under clothing, yet maybe you want him too. He's built like a god. You might actually get too distracted by him (more than you already do) if he were to wear anything more revealing than what he already wears.

“Remind me to take a picture next time” you joke, finger running along his bicep, memorizing the relaxed muscles under his skin and the way the muscles gather shadows. Jongho laughs lightly, eyes heavy with sleep. He watches you watch him, like he always has. Unbeknownst to you. You're his moon and stars. The prettiest thing in the world to him- most perfect too. You don't have to be actually perfect; he loves you as you are. His noona, his member, and his hard working friend. Friend isn't even the right word for jongho to describe your relationship. It's more so.. much more than that. It's a lot words can't describe.

His arm is curled under his head against his own pillow, his other hand reaching to pick up a piece of your hair and stroke it behind your ear. His thumb rubbing against your cheek. His gummy grin is nothing short of beautiful in your eyes when you make eye contact. Jongho has never been one for touch, but being mere inches apart; completely revealed to each other, you can't help but want to hold him like the big bear he is. Run your hands through his hair and kiss around his face until he's red.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks so quietly, you find it hard to believe he even did. You smile, nodding eagerly and shuffling into his embrace some more, hands enrapturing his neck to bring him in. He holds your face with his heavy palm, leaning down to passionately take your bottom lip between his. A slow sinatra that tells him exactly what he wanted to know and you the same. Both of your eyes close as you bask in each other's lips.

He pulls away with an extra breath against your lips, his hand falling away to rub against your shoulder. Soothing it in circles. Your own hands rubbing his neck, thumbing over the mole that you love to stare at. You lean up to kiss it softly, nuzzling your face under his chin affectionately. He lets you despite the racing of his heart, despite you being able to pull away and leave if you want. If you both want. His knot is gone but you're still with him.

The tissues on jonghos nightstand are soft enough to use to clean up, they're of great quality. He gently prys it from your hand as you reach for them and sits up to smooth it over your thighs, gathering yours and his fluids. He's a lot quicker than you're used to, a little rough as he swipes it over your still sensitive and soiled hole. You groan and he apologizes under his breath, tossing the last of it away after cleaning himself off, only the most soaked spots though. He grabs his sweats and shoves them on as he gets up.

He doesn't go far, the trash can by his bedside table is conventional. He takes your face in his hands when he leans over and kisses you deeply, just once before he's getting up and quickly gathering clothes from his drawer. His round eyes every so often flickering to you, as if you'll run away. As if you can. You laugh lightly at the thought, tucking yourself against his bed and pillows. You curl up with one of them, sighing heavily, avoiding the wet patch on jonghos bed.

Speaking of wet patch, jongho comes back with a pair of shorts and a tee on, you miss the skin, but his comfort is most important. He kisses your head when he leans over, hand placed over your back. He's touchy, so touchy. You love it, yet you're scared it'll only last so long. Scared of reciprocating it too much or else he'll flee.

“Look at me” jongho calls your name, interrupting your inner thoughts. You hum as you turn to your side. Jonghos palm falling across your cheek to turn your head towards him. “What's wrong?” Are you that obvious? You sigh “i- I'm just kinda, scared i'll touch you wrong” well. That's not exactly what you meant to say, but it's good enough. Jonghos eyebrows furrow. “Oh, jagi” he laughs at you softly, you go to turn away, suddenly embarrassed. “We just had sex and you're worried about touching me?” jongho voices his thoughts, head falling over your shoulder as he continues to giggle. “Nevermind,” you mumble, attempting to turn away in his grasp.

Jongho smooths his palm against your tummy, turning you back over to face him. “You can touch me, anytime” he responds softly. “Just be careful, we're still idols,” he jokes. You shake your head. “You're unbearable” you pout. “I know cub, but I'm not the one getting shy over touching” he slides in next to you, smiling wide. Eyes scrunching. Picture perfect as usual. His brown hair is hardly a mess, his cream shirt hugs him just right, and his shorts are gathering his thighs up under the loose fabric. He's pulling you gently up by the shoulders to slip his shirt over you now. At a loss for some bottoms.

You really could care less about going without underwear when jonghos shirt is practically a nightgown. The dark fabric makes you look genuinely tiny. You smooth your hand over the fabric when jongho manages to pull a towel out of his dirty laundry, shoving it onto the wet spot. “Where's that towel from?” You scrunch your nose at him. “Brought it back from the gym”

That explains the heavy odor of sweat.

You chuckle, pulling your hair out of the collar of the shirt. “So manly” you hum teasingly. Jongho rolled his eyes, caging himself against your back when he went to lay down on the pillow next to you. “You like it though, I saw you staring” you turn, he's hiding his face smugly in the pillow. “Jongho” you huff, a loss for words. “I don't stare” you mumble, slinking down to lay face to face with him. He shakes his head with a smile and laugh, smoothing his hand over your back once again. “You so do,” he hums. “I do too,” he goes on to admit. You grin cheekily. “Really? How often? When?” You encourage, hoping to get him to start turning red. He's slowly getting there, eyes scrunching closed.

“All the time, when you can't see” he says with a heavy breath, his body relaxing as he admits to it. You smile gently at the confession. “I do too” he laughs lightly at your words, eyes peeking open. “I know you do, you're not very good at hiding it” he bites his swollen lip before he continues, eyes raking over your comfortable figure. “you just can't help yourself can you?” He teases.

You shake your head. “Not when it's you” your finger trails up his neck, pushing on his lips. He parts them for you, kissing the tip of the digit. You sigh. He's so pretty. Your thighs clench. “Jjongie” you call his name softly, eyes glancing over his figure as you struggle to sit up, facing him fully. “Yes?” He quietly responds, hands falling to follow you. “Can you give me one more? Just one? Please” you whisper, head falling to his jaw and sucking the skin there in a sticky kiss.

Jongho moans silently, jaw falling open, he moves to your whim. Holding your hips as you lean over him. You take the opportunity to kiss his mole and neck, trailing down to litter tiny hickeys around the bite you left. Marking him some more. Sucking and teasing the skin. He's breathy, head pulled to the side to let you. You're maneuvering to lay on top of him. Straddling his hips.

“Can i jjongie?” You reach for the hem of his shirt, he's nodding, way too quickly for his liking but he doesn't care, already pressing his shorts against your thigh so he has some relief from the growth in them. You help him work it off his head, he lands against the pillow. He sighs as you stare down at him. Lips pursing when your tongue sticks out to wet them. Jongho rolls his hips against you, cursing the fabric of his pants for being the only separation.

You're peeling your shirt off next, jongho helping you do so. Finally, he's taking time to feel you up, whenever his greedy hands can reach. His tough hands kneading the flesh of your breasts, his thumb rolls over your nipple. You buck, moaning his name quietly, he eagerly responds with his own breathy moan. Leaning up to ask for a kiss, his head falls back down when you smash your lips onto his, suffocating his groans in your mouth. You swirl your hips forward, grinding your cunt against his covered cock.

Jonghos face scrunches, jaw falling slack- completely open as he leans his head against the pillow. “Can't wait noona” he mumbles, reaching down to unhook his sweat strings. You help him, tugging down his shorts the rest of the way. Your hips wiggle in anticipation.

Jonghos dick is flush and red from the strain, bobbing against his lower stomach with need. He grips it, stroking it once to satisfy the ache if only for a second. You grip his hand, grabbing it with your own and squeezing. A whimpered gasp falling off his tongue. He calls your name. “I'm gonna put you inside now jjongie- gonna make us feel so-so good” you whimper at your own words, lining up the tip of him to your hole. He stutters up, holding your waist.

“no prep?” his eyes widened in concern. You kiss his face softly, thumbing over the slit of his tip. He whines softly, eyes fluttering. “Don't need it,, just need you” you whisper against his lips, toying with him. Your head falls over his as you sink your hips down. There's a slow stretch and you're stopping when he's hardly inside. He whimpers, resisting the urge to buck into you. To get himself fully inside your hot walls and paint you again with his cum and scent.

“Told you-” he gasps when your hips sink down a bit more, clenching and tensing around him. “You needed prep,” he cuts himself off, guiding his hands against your waist. You huff, eyebrows furrowed and mouth slack. “s’ too big jjong” you rock your hips, guiding yourself forward and breathing through the stretch. Jongho doesn't comment on the pride he feels or the smug feeling he gets hearing that from you. He helps as much as he can, breathing with you and stilling. His eyes lock with yours when his thumb smooths down over your stomach to circle your clit.

You try your hardest not to move, whimpering. You're seeping along his length, trying to draw him in with pulses of your cunt. “Stop squeezing me- oh. Shi-” he covers his noises by biting his bottom lip. “Gonna cum if you keep doing that” he looks back down at where he stretches you out. Rocking you slowly, back and forth to sink further, you fall down the rest of the way on your own. Gasping loudly when he bottoms out completely. You fall over his chest, grasping along his length as you dig your head down into his neck. Jongho kisses your neck, rubbing your back in soothing circles.

“too tight- ‘m moving? Okay? Gonna help you” he swirls your hips forward, gasping along with you. His hands capture your thighs, just under your hips to dig his blunt fingernails into you. He keeps the momentum until you're slightly lifting your hips up and dropping them onto him. The squelch makes jong buck, digging his length up to meet you. You moan his name next to his ear, your arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders.

His heels dig into the bed every time he thrusts up, rolling his hips with yours, there a pace you two are setting, sloppy. Just trying to get each other off quickly. His hand comes forward to circle your clit from between the both of you, dragging your ass up with his free hand to plant back onto his own thrusts. It's so short, cause you're already spasming around his cock. Crying at the wave of your orgasm already creeping up on you.

“Jongho-! JJongie gonna cum too quick-” you cry against his skin. He digs his fingers, all the more reason to continue his assault on your clit. “Just let go cub, I'm- mm- cum with you” he breathes out quickly, head thrown back in pleasure. His thighs shaking, he's so close, closer than you are, he's been holding it back the entire time.

You curl forward with a cry of his name, sobbing against his shoulder in ecstacy. Your thighs clench around his hips and waist roughly, trembling. Jongho grunts and moans as he stills inside you, rolling your hips back down onto him one last time to get himself all the way inside. His knot pops in the most gratifying way, sticking deep inside you whilst his load covers your womb. His neck is covered in sweat and so are your thighs. Everything feels sticky as you both breathe in unison.

“good?” Jongho laughs lightly, you laugh along. He whimpers dramatically when he feels you clench, mumbling how you shouldn't move as his fingers dig into your waist. You ignore his words, “s’was really good jongho, good job alpha” you compliment him, leaning off his chest to even out your shaky legs. He helps as much as he can, gripping you gently.

You hum with a comfortable sigh as you lay against his chest now. Legs locking up against him. Jonghos hand comes to hold your shoulder against him, fiddling with your palm. The light on the side of jonghos bed keeps you from sweet sleep. Jongho watches your face, relaxed and full of content.

“I love you”

He holds his breath, an accidental whisper of his real feelings. He ruined it- ruined the safe space he just made and completely broke down a wall that's supposed to be there, he tenses. You sigh softly; lip curling. “Love you too teddy bear”

It was bound to happen eventually, the stomping of feet in the hallway only gives enough time for jongho to pull his almost disregarded blanket over your bodies. His tough hands wrap around your shoulders protectively.

The only person to swing the door open is san, his hands holding the knob in a vice grip. His cheeks puffed up when he pokes his head in, eyes completely screwed shut to avoid seeing anything he didn't want too. “There's a hot shower waiting for you, not you” San attempts to point his finger in your direction then to jongho's, based on instinct he measures out where jonghos bed is. He's off by a lot. “Just so you two know it's rude to sneak off, I thought you were coming back” he pouts. Clearly missing you.

You smile into your words, cuddling closer to jongho for warmth against the cold and once abandoned blanket. “Be out in a lil bit, promise” you're surprised at how jongho didn't immediately throw something at san, yelling and telling him to get out. The younger alpha seems flabbergasted as San shuts the door.

His eyes lock back down to yours when you turn your head to see his face, his ears are red. The corner of his lips lifting as you stare, puzzled.

“Do you need company?”

Your shower is quick and easy, jongho helping you to clean up whilst he himself also cleans up, making sure you're able to stand on your own. It's sweet and innocent with him laughing every once in a while when he splashes you, you do the same back to him. He dries your hair gently, running the end of a comb to brush through what he can. He uses it on himself occasionally, warm air puffing up his bangs. He leaves with a towel wrapped around his waist and comes back wearing pajamas, different from the other ones he had on, a loose graphic gray shirt that only barely shows off the bite on his neck. Matching with a pair of heavy sweatpants. Your eyes glance over the bite, sticky with ointment that you insisted on rubbing along it, bruising hickeys lining up against his tan skin, you grimace.

“Jjong, what happened to your clothes?” Your eyebrows furrow, stopping the movement of rubbing ointment against the sensitive bites on your body. “You got them dirty love” he shrugs, the nickname rolling off his tongue easily. He leans over to kiss your head. Basking in the height difference. You decide to just ignore his words, reaching for the clothing in his arms.

It's a pair of simple shorts and a shirt. A grey gym shirt? You glance up at jongho, the guy smiles shyly, hands creeping around your waist. It's fresh at least, still smells like jongho even though he hasn't worn it. You take a satisfied whiff and slip it on, pulling a pair of your own underwear on and lastly the dark shorts that are a bit too loose for you. They're not yours or jonghos. The length is too small for his taste.

“hongjoong?” you smell as his cologne wafts up to your nostrils, you shrug them on, tying the strings tighter before shoving the fresh pair of white socks on as well. “he wanted me to give them to you, to wear” he sighs, guiding you towards the hallway and shutting the light off behind you.

You smile at the younger alphas insisting to guide you, hands tugging yours with him. His larger palm is gripping around your wrist gently, rubbing against your scent glands.

The living room is noisy from the TV. Your nest comes into view as you both round the corner, jonghos hand slips from yours when he steps to the kitchen. You smile at the sight, seonghwa is practically laying halfway on hongjoong, sleeping, wooyoung on the other side of the leader. They're both on the far right of the nest, cuddled up with one of your blankets spread over each other.

Mingi and Yunho are sitting together on the propped up couch, probably taking interest in actually laying on it together instead of in it. Yeosang is laid face down in the middle of the nest, asleep on a pillow. San is placed on the far left of the nest, scrolling mindlessly on his phone. Yunho seems to have been drifting, before Mingi perks up and leaps.

“dibs!” He gathers you in his arms before san can spring up from next to yeosang. San pouts, hands thrown up in defeat. “You weren't even a part of the conversation!” mingi laughs quietly. His hands swing you back and forth in his embrace. You shake your head, having no clue what they were calling dibs on or talking about. You shuffle forward, mingi steps over the empty spots to pull you down onto the couch next to him.

You fall onto mingis lap, feet sticking out and onto yunhos. The sleepy member doesn't seem to mind, his hand curling around so he can hold your ankle. A soft caress of his fingertips over the glands there. You take a deep breath, relaxing against mingi. He tilts your head up, demanding your attention.

“hi min” you greet him, pecking his jaw softly, as if on instinct. He preens, grinning, his lips growing wider and more shy. “hi,” he simply responds, as if a school boy saying hello to a pretty girl. “So..” he starts quietly over the TV. A conversation being held only for the two of you. “Mhm?” Yunho chimes in as he seeps into the couch on the other side. “mingi and i were wondering if you wanted to do some size training tomorrow”

The mentioned male sputters, waving his hand as Yunho flat out says what's on his mind. Mumbles of “that's not.. well-” “i-.. it is, size training- i mean..” coming from behind you. Your eyes widen. If size training is what he truly believes it is, and knowing yunho is massive.. are they planning to… yunho smirks at your expression.

“You think you could take two?” Yunho's eyebrow quirks, genuine interest in his dark eyes. Can you take two? This discussion is so casual, at least they're warning you. “depends” you sigh, leaning into mingi shyly, a pillow brought across your chest so you can hold it. “you could hardly take me, even after i.. you know” yunho seems to grow shy. “it's easier now” your hand comes up to cover your face at your own words. “I.. think it has to do with my- slick?” Mingi shifts from under you, are you even using the right term?

Yunho hums, lip poking out as he thinks. “That's what seonghwa said,” Yunho nods, sighing. “It's still better to be prepared” yunho shrugs, his hand rubbing patterns against your ankle.

“When you do take two, we can know the signs if it's too much for you.”

Yunho's cock does happen to be the biggest in the group out of all you’ve seen, probably to match his size and height. He's just big overall. So if he's big, then mingi (according to your logic of alphas and having big dicks) might actually be massive to also make up for his size. The cute, giggly, wide eyed member who clings to you.. it's too much to think about.

You hum, wiggling on mingis lap. The man sighs, trying to get comfortable from under you. There's a bulge that he doesn't feel like mentioning, hard because you talked about having sex. It's embarrassing to him. “yeah, let's try, it's better when I'm not post heat hazy, after breakfast?”

Why are you scheduling sex? You don't know, but for some reason there's no awkward tension, just passive buildup. It feels like you're planning a date as a couple that has been together for years. Comfortable and tingling. You turn to look mingi in the eyes, he's beet red. Ears flushing under the lights of the TV. “What do you think?”

He nods quickly, a short conformational hum leaving his throat. It bobbles when he swallows thickly. You smile, a huff of air escaping your nose.

“We'll do some size training then” yunho nods, head falling back over the arm of the couch where a pillow is propped. You turn into mingis' side, enjoying his warmth and scent you haven't had on you in a long time. He jumps, hands jolting to lighten his grip just to let you move freely. “Nervous?” You tease.

Mingi smiles, his lips pulling down into a concerned grin, he slots back into his spot. “I might ruin you” he admits with a quiet sigh “I can be rough- I am rough” he's warning you. You glance up at his face. Heat pooling into your own.

You've heard it before, heard about mingi being too rough during sex. Especially during his ruts. He's broken plenty of rut sanctuary beds, you've had to pick him up to pay for it. His skin sticky with sweat and looking much more masculine than when the guys dropped him off. You have your license, yet all you can think about when you drive is how insanely hot mingi looked coming out of the alpha building block, you were probably a liability on the road at that time. His hair is messy on his head and his body completely reeks. He smelt like an alpha who had a tough brawl of it with himself. And he wouldn't even look you in the eyes.

Whatever toys or help they provide never seemed to do the trick cause he seemed much more frustrated and quiet being picked up. You'd ask him if he was feeling better and he'd completely ignore you. He hardly spoke to you afterwards, needing at least three days to recover his attitude. And even after then, you've heard rumors amongst your idol friends about mingi in bed, despite not wanting to know you couldn't help eavesdropping.

Your eyebrow quirks. “Is this your way of telling me you're a warning sign?” Mingi laughs lightly at that, you must be okay with it.

“I'm just letting you know, that's why yunho's there.” he thumbs your chin, his eyes growing more lax.

“To bring you back when it gets too rough”

I went off the deep end with this one !!!! Literally need to have jonghos babies immediately, I can be the perfect wife, please one chance, jongho!! I no longer feminism when jongho exists. Thanks to my cutie patootie @uhhheather and my pookie bear @hhoneylix for helping me thru some plot and some of the smut teehee!! Ily guys (kisses screen). Also.. size training with yunho n mingi?... mingi being rough?? I have so much to write oh lawrd.

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