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moonlightpetalz6 · 8 months

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Kinktober Day 7 (Blood Kink)

Character: Choso x Reader

Reader: Fem Reader!

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, Smut, unprotected sex, harsh language, violence, mentions of dead bodies, blood, pet names, mentions of them being in Shibuya

Blood Kink: Being attracted to blood and or enjoying the sight of it.

Wc: 3,271

A/n: I love this man with my entire heart and soul. He is househusband material I do not care. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! One more to go and I will officially be caught up! I tried my best to get all the warnings put above! I apologize if I have missed any!

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Choso was what you liked to call the perfect boyfriend. He was always so loving and thoughtful, praising you with gifts and words no matter how small. Honestly, you wouldn't want him any other way. There was, however, one small problem in your relationship, at least for you. Choso was so vanilla and gentle when it came to having sex. At first, nothing was wrong with it as you loved how careful and considerate he was with you, making sure he was pleasing your body instead of just his like many other guys you had been dating. Sometime down the line, you found yourself wanting more from Choso. You wanted him to be rough with you, go absolutely feral, and use your body for his desires at least once; after that, you wouldn't mind returning to the usual sex. Unfortunately, you never knew how to bring it up to the man as he was always quick to think it was his fault and he wasn't fulfilling his role correctly.

You let out a deep sigh, tossing someone's lifeless body out of your way as you looked around the bloody massacre. "Geez, and I just had these cleaned." You sighed in annoyance as you examined your blood-stained clothes. You weren't one for murder or violence, but your boyfriend had decided to team up with a few powerful curses, so you had no choice but to comply with his wishes. "Honestly, I didn't expect for them to separate us…I bet Choso is so worried." You sighed, scratching your head as you walked over the bodies, a slight skip in your step. The thought of your boyfriend caused your cheeks to turn pink as you let out a happy squeal, cupping both sides of your face, hearts practically flying out from your lovesick aura. "AAAAH!!! I JUST WANNA SEE MY CUTE BOYFRIEND!" You cried, absolutely smitten with him. You let out a slight hum as you started skipping over the bodies as you searched for your lover.

"I'm coming my blood lotus~ Just wait for me!"

__________

Choso paced back and forth, his leg twitching up and down nervously as he nibbled on one of his nails. It had been around two hours since he had been separated from you, driving him crazy. Jogo scoffed as he watched Choso's ridiculous antics. "Will you cut it out?! Honestly, it's making me sick how whipped you are for such a weak curse." He grumbled, crossing his arms. His pacing stops as he processes his colleagues' words. 'Weak…? WEAK?!?!' Your boyfriend clenched his fists as he stormed over to Jugo, roughly grabbing him by the front of his collar, their faces inches apart. "What the hell did you just say about her? I'd watch my tone if I were you." Your boyfriend growled, feeling his blood boil.

There were two things Choso hated more than anything in this god-awful world: anyone hurting or talking trash about his brothers and beautiful girlfriend. Jogo felt himself growing angry as his head started to throb. "I said she's nothing but a weak curse!" He fumed, locking eyes with Choso, who felt his anger rise as he raised a fist, ready to end the curse in front of him, that is, until he heard the familiar cheery voice. "Ah! I found you, Choso baby!" His eyes quickly dart toward your voice, seeing your figure happily running towards him. Releasing Jogo, having forgotten about him like a wet rag as he ran towards you, the worry he felt fading when his eyes took in your joyful expression. However, as he got closer, he noticed all the blood that covered his clothes and skin, causing his worry to come back ten times as he picked up the pace.

Once he reached you, he quickly wrapped you in his arms, his hands holding you close as he carefully inspected your body, ensuring the blood wasn't coming from you. You just giggled, finding your boyfriend's response absolutely adorable as you wrapped your arms around his waist, face nuzzling into his chest as you inhaled his scent. "My bleeding heart, oh, how I missed you." He exhaled, hiding his face deep into the crook of your neck, his anxiety finally subsiding when he realized the blood wasn't yours and that you were perfectly safe. You hummed, rubbing your hands up and down his back, soothing his nerves. "I was only gone for two hours, my bloody Lotus~" You sang your voice so carefree as it rang through his ears like a melody. His grip tightened at your words as he kissed your neck delicately.

"Two hours too long." He confessed as he pulled away from you. You stood before him with a bright smile as he took your entire form, finally getting a good look at his sweet girlfriend. Boy, was that a mistake. Choso felt his body heat up, face going red with embarrassment as his eyes bore into you. You were always so beautiful and cute in his eyes, but this time? This time, you looked so sexy, covered in the blood of those who had dared attack you. "Hm? Choso baby?" You called, waving a hand in front of his face curiously when you noticed he hadn't said anything in over a minute. "You, okay? My blood Lotus?" Your voice becomes concerned as you carefully cup his cheek with one of your bloody hands. He flinches at the sudden touch, having been so deep in thought as his mind starts turning your sweet body into something filthy. You frown at this shyly, pulling your hand away. "I'm sorry…seeing me covered in blood must disgust you, huh? I guess I should've found some clothes to change into," you admit, a voice laced with sadness as you look away from your boyfriend.

Choso's heart dropped at your words, along with the look on your face, as he quickly grabbed your wrist, pressing the palm of your hand back onto his cheek, rubbing it up and down as he melted into your touch, a shaky breath leaving his lips. "Not at all, my bleeding heart…you look as divine as usual." He whined, absolutely smitten with you. "It's just this time…." He trails off, glancing behind him as if finally remembering his colleagues' presence. He frowned, reassuringly squeezing your hand as he turned to the other curses. "Since Y/n has returned to me, I will take her to get new clothes. You should be fine without me, right?" He asked, his tone utterly different from what he used with you. Jogo looked ready to protest; however, he was stopped by Mahito, who just smiled at the two of you, waving a hand.

"That's fine~ Don't be too long though!" He laughed, ignoring Jogo's protests. Choso nods before interlacing his fingers with yours as he pulls you away from prying eyes. The two of you walk for an hour, passing multiple clothing stores as he takes you to his destination. "Where are we going?" You finally ask as you try to keep up with his long strides. Choso looks back at you, smiling sweetly as he notices your failed attempt to keep up with him. He stops in the middle of the sidewalk, humans passing by, unable to see the bloodied girl in front of them. He carefully places his hand against your cheek and pulls you in for a deep, passionate kiss. This one is more aggressive than any others he's ever given you, and he's given a lot.

Choso whines into the kiss, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip, desperately wanting you to open your mouth. You do as told, a small giggle leaving your lips as you allow your boyfriend's wet muscle to invade your mouth. Choso feels his knees grow weak as he wraps an arm around you, pulling you close as he grinds against your front like a needy puppy. You gasp in shock, allowing his tongue to slide deeper down your throat. After a moment, he pulls away the saliva connecting your lips. His hips don't seem to stop, though, as he's practically picking you off the ground to press his bulge against your hidden pussy.

"C-Choso! What's gotten into you?" You pant, trying to catch your breath as you cling to his clothes. He looks down at you, racing red as pathetic pants and whines fall from his lips. "I-I'm sorry, my love…but seeing you covered in blood like this… you're so fucking sexy." He confessed while dipping into the crook of your neck, aggressively sucking on the spot he knew would get you going. You moan, hips bucking up into his, causing a smile on his lips as he continues sucking on the tender skin. "C-Choso not here! All these humans…" You whined, trying to push him away. This time, he could care less about the people around you or your cries of embarrassment. He was too turned on to think appropriately as he started tugging at your clothes.

"Choso!" You yelled, giving his head a light smack, causing him to wince as he pulled away from you with a pout. You stood there looking an absolute mess, making his eyes want to roll into the back of his head. "Fine… I'm sorry, my bleeding heart…" He breathed, leaving kisses all over your face. "I'll find a quiet spot, so please don't be mad at me." He begged, not wanting you to stop as he felt so hot and bothered that he felt like crying. You sigh briefly before nodding, allowing him to quickly drag you into the nearest alley. "They can't see us anyways…" He muttered, attacking your lips again in a feverish kiss, his hands ravishing your body as he took in all the red staining your skin. You whined, your breathing becoming heavy just from his light touch and kisses alone.

'S-so?! You never know when a sorcerer or a human with cursed energy will be nearby!" You scolded, earning a slight whine and an apology as he pulled away from you an absolute mess. "My bleeding heart… it's too much…I want to do it." He growled, sliding down to his knees as he pulled at your shorts, his eyes hungry for your sweet pussy. You looked down at his eyes, lidded over with lust as you gave a soft smile, gently rubbing his head. "Do with me what you wish, Choso~" You sang so sweetly he wanted to cum on the spot. Without a second thought, Choso tore your shorts and panties down, dropping them at your ankles as he stuffed his mouth full of your sweet slick deep moan left his lips as he lapped at your folds, his tongue twirling around your clit. You let out a few cries, your head pressed back against the brick wall, your back arching as you gripped your hair with one hand. "F-fuck, baby! So, fucking good~" You cried, loving this new side of your boyfriend.

Choso hummed at the praise, his eyes not leaving your bloodied appearance as he gripped your hips, his tongue poking in and out of your hole, causing your legs to shake as you squeezed his head between your thighs. "Y/n~ My sweet baby~" He whines, his nails dragging down your thighs, drawing tiny beads of blood, causing you to flinch hissing from the slight sting. "W-what are you?" You ask, not understanding his goal. Choso smiled, pulling away from you as he started lapping up one of your thighs, the other smearing the blood over your precious skin. "So pretty…so sexy." He whispered; eyes clouded with desire as he looked up at you. "Does it turn you on my bleeding heart?" He questions, slowly rising so he could once again hover over you, his fingers sliding against your dripping folds.

"Cause I am… I'm so turned on by your bloody appearance that I'm ashamed." He admits going to bite at your lip again, this time biting it harder. He presses his forehead to yours as he slowly inserts a finger, watching your face contort from pleasure and pain. "Are you disgusted with me, my love? Does me wanting to fuck your blood-stained body turn you away from me?" He starts asking all these questions while his finger plunges deep inside you, curling into that one spot that made your knees give out. Choso catches you, his finger still abusing your pussy as he pushes another inside. "Please answer me, Y/n." He begs, not wanting his precious treasure to find him revolting due to this newfound kink of his.

You're silent for a moment, your breath echoing in the darkly light alley as you try to process all of his words. The excitement you feel from finally having Choso use your body for his desires causes your head to spin. "Y-you could never disgust me, Choso." You finally manage to get out as you weakly look up at him, a fucked-out smile on your face, eyes half open from pleasure. You go and bite your lip, feeling your teeth pierce the skin as you press a deep kiss to his lips. Choso is taken back for a moment before the taste of your blood slips into his mouth, causing his eyes to roll back as his body aggressively shakes. You pull away, shocked, as you feel his body lean against yours while he tries to regain his breath.

"Choso, did you just…cum?" You breathed, surprised eyes meeting his lidded ones as he looked at you, lust still written all over his features. "It's okay," He starts his thumb smearing the blood across your face as he slips his fingers out. "I'm still so hard," he admits as he guides your hand down into his clothes, allowing you to feel how sticky it is down there, causing your legs to press together as you feel your slick leak down your legs. "Can I fuck you Y/n? I want to put it in so fucking bad." He whines, bucking his hips into your hand when he feels you start jerking him off. You hummed, eyes locked on where your hand disappeared into his clothes, finding this situation such a turn-on as you lick your lips. "Mhm…fuck me so good, Choso baby~ Use me till your heart's content~" You purred into his ear.

Choso's face lights up with embarrassment as tears prick his eyes. "Thank you, my bleeding heart!" He cries, his hands lifting you from the ground, catching you by surprise as you wrap your legs around him. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" He cried repeatedly as he shoved his aching cock inside you, his pace aggressive and fast. It hurt at first, but you swallowed the pain, your heart filled with too much joy as you watched the man of your obsession pathetically rail into you, his lust taking control. 'All this for some pathetic people's blood.' You thought happily, stroking the back of his head, causing him to whimper as he placed kisses all over your exposed skin.

"Mm~ Right there, baby! Feels so fucking good~" You cried, feeling the tip of his cock hitting that bundle of nerves that always drove you over the edge. "Fuuuuuuck! Hit it again, baby! Use me so good!" You cry tears of pleasure as you lift his face to yours. Choso had drool running down his chin as he quickly captured your lips in his, his tongue aggressively lapping at the spot you had bit earlier; the taste of iron was still strong as Choso felt his cock twitch. "Mm~ my bleeding heart, your blood taste so fucking sweet…I can't get enough." He whined, his thrusts growing sloppy. You just smile, giggling as you go and leave Hickey's down his neck, wanting to let those who could see him know that he was claimed for. Choso loved when you got possessive; it made him feel like he wasn't alone in his love for you.

"So pretty…so fucking sexy just for me." He grunts, his hips slamming into yours. Loud moans to leave your lips as you gripped his shoulders for support. "Are you gonna cum My Blood Lotus? Cum deep inside me, okay? I wanna feel you deep in my pussy, baby~" You purred, your tongue sticking out in the sluttiest way he's ever seen. Choso looks at you in awe, completely smitten by the curse in front of him as he feels his hips pound up into you, his seed releasing deep into your walls. You tossed your head back, hands gripping his hair as you let out the most beautiful moan he had ever heard. Choso whines, his thrusts picking back up as he starts to go for round two, already not giving you a chance to recover from your orgasm. "W-wait Choso! I just came, so I'm…ah~ really sensitive!" You cried, arms wrapping around his neck for support. Choso just grunts into your ear, the smell of blood filling his senses as he feels himself going feral.

"Sorry… it's too good…too fucking good!" He cried, his hips shaking from his overstimulation, having come twice in only a few minutes. "I'll carry you back, okay baby~ So just let me fuck you until I'm all out~ red is so fucking pretty on you…fuck Y/n, so beautiful…my beautiful bleeding heart, you make me insane!" He cried out praise with each thrust he took, your moans being the only sound he wanted to hear while licking at any blood he could, trying to clean up your skin from the filth that wanted to harm you. "No one's blood tastes like yours…so sweet and intoxicating just for me." He whimpers, feeling his tip press against your cervix, causing a whimper to leave your lips.

"Sorry baby…just a few more, I promise." He begged into your ear, nibbling at the lobe reassuringly. He didn't say anything as all you could do was look up at the night sky of Shibuya, your mind spinning with only Choso as you looked up at the stars. 'So pretty.' You thought, a fucked-out grin appearing as you pressed him close to your chest, allowing him to suck on the clothed mounds. Choso continued to fuck you five more times; after that, your mind and body were exhausted as he went and brought you new clothes making sure to change you himself as a way of apologizing for how rough he was with you. You smile at him as he gives you a piggyback ride back where you were supposed to meet up with the others. When you returned, Jogo quickly yelled at the two of you for taking so long.

Choso, not wanting you to deal with Jogo's annoying voice, placed you on a bench before walking over to the curse, both taunting the other. You watched him with a giant smile as you felt Mahito take a seat next to you, a mischievous smile on his face as Hanami made sure you were okay, having noticed how exhausted you looked. "Well~ Don't you look like you had a fun time~" He teased, raising a brow at you. You hummed, tapping Hanami's hand reassuringly as you looked from your boyfriend to the curse beside you. "So, tell me did you discover anything new about your love?" He pried, loving each detail you would give him about your relationship. You looked at him for a moment before a giant smile spread across your face, a deep hue dusting your cheeks as you looked at him with lovesick eyes, your hands holding your cheeks.

"My Blood Lotus really loves the color red~"

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moonywritez6 · 5 months

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Kinktober Day 7 Blood Kink (Reupload)

Character: Choso x Reader

Reader: Fem Reader!

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, Smut, unprotected sex, harsh language, violence, mentions of dead bodies, blood, pet names, mentions of them being in Shibuya

Blood Kink: Being attracted to blood and or enjoying the sight of it.

Wc: 3,271

A/n: Hello my sweets! Unfortunately, I got locked out of my old blog account, so I had to make a new one! So, chances of you having seen this before are high as it's on my old account! (I am so sad about it honestly). But I am going through all my old accounts posts and reuploading them here! I hope you can still enjoy my works!

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"I'm coming my blood lotus~ Just wait for me!"

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"My Blood Lotus really loves the color red~"

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madamebaggio · 1 year

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Notes: And there's one more chapter because I'm a weak woman.

Previously....

***

Chapter 2

This was how - two weeks later - Sansa found herself in front of Arthur’s door, getting caught red-handed by him.

It did take her two weeks to come to a decision about whether she should ask him for help or not.

The thing was… Arthur was kind of a slut -and Sansa said that with a lot of love. He was the ‘love’em and leave’em’ kind of guy, but not in a douche way. At least, as far as Sansa knew.

Which was why he was the perfect one to ask this to. Arthur wasn’t into commitments and Sansa didn’t want a boyfriend. She just wanted to try this one kink.

It was a kink, right?

Like… Probably a boring one all things considered, but still a kink.

“Sansa?” Arthur called again, an uncertain smile on his face. “What are you doing here?”

It was just her luck that he’d be out and come back right when she was reflecting about her bad choices.

“Nothing.” She declared grandly. “I was just leaving.”

“Princess.” He stepped in front of her. “You didn’t come here for nothing. But…” He pressed when she’d have said something else. “You don’t have to tell me why you came. How about tea?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. “I wouldn’t want to impose.” She finally said.

“You never do, San.” He grinned at her. “Let’s have some tea.”

And that was how she found herself inside his flat, talking about nothing in particular and drinking tea.

Sansa liked Arthur a lot -in a very platonic way. He was funny and ridiculous, really smart and honest to a fault. He wasn’t a bullshitter, but he also wasn’t those ‘brutally honest’ people that just used that as an excuse to be assholes.

Was he hot?

Yes, incredibly so. However, he was also much more.

Sansa didn’t choose him just because he was hot and didn’t want commitment. She came to him because he was a man she felt she could trust with this.

For all the time she knew Arthur, she’d never heard him saying one peep about the girls he hooked up with. And she was also aware he didn’t talk to the other boys about it, because Theon was always grumbling about Arthur never sharing the ‘hot bits’ with them.

And if the rumors were true… There were many hot bits.

There was a girl in Sansa’s university that said she’d had a threesome with Arthur and another girl. When Sansa asked Arthur if that was true, he gave her the same reply he always gave in those cases.

“Wouldn’t you love to know that, Red?” That was his official ‘no comments’ piece.

So, really, as far as she knew, Arthur could have zero experience with sex. It didn’t seem possible - or fair to humanity - but it could happen.

“What are you thinking about, Red?” The man in question teased her. “You’ve drunk all your tea, so now it’s time to spill it.”

She snorted, but fell quiet.

“Is something wrong?” He asked her gently. “You can tell me.”

“No.” She assured him quickly. “I just… I feel silly now. I shouldn’t have bothered you.”

“Sansa.” He admonished quietly. “Don’t say that. I don’t know what’s on your mind, but you aren’t silly. It’s fine if you don’t want to say it now.”

Sansa took a deep breath in and came to a decision. “Remember the last time we were at the pub?”

“Yeah.”

“And Percival was talking about the handcuffs and stuff.”

“Unfortunately, I’ll never forget that.”

That made Sansa giggle, but then she blushed. “Were you… Were you serious?”

He frowned. “About?”

It was now or never. “Volunteering as tribute.”

Arthur was silent for a long time. Long enough that Sansa started to worry.

Then he cleared his throat, leaned back against his couch and crossed his arms. “What am I volunteering for again?”

“I want you… And me…” Oh lord, this was humiliating. “To… You know.”

Great. Very mature.

He got quiet again, but he recovered faster this time. “San, I’m not saying this to give you a hard time, but love…” He uncrossed his arms and scratched his cheek. “If you’re hinting at what I think you are, I’d appreciate you being very clear about it.”

That was fair.

She could do this. “There’s something I want to try… Sexually.”

Arthur nodded, like this was a perfectly normal topic of conversation for them. “Okay.”

“And I’ve never felt comfortable or safe enough with any of my boyfriends to even suggest it.”

Arthur’s eyebrows went up. “And you believe you’ll feel safe with me?” He pointed at himself.

“I do.”

Suddenly a smile broke on his face, and he looked… “Are you proud of yourself?” Sansa demanded incredulously.

“Hell yeah.” He said shamelessly. “That’s flattering as fuck, Red.”

“I can’t believe you.”

“Sorry, sorry.” But he was still grinning. “I didn’t mean to make this about myself. You were saying?”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “Oh, you don’t want to gloat a bit more?”

“I’ll save that for later.”

She snorted, then became more serious. “It’s nothing big. You’ll probably think I’m an idiot…”

“Sansa.” He chided. “Don’t say that, please. Remember what we discussed at the pub? Trust is important when you’re vulnerable, and expressing those desires makes you vulnerable. No matter how ‘big’ they are.”

She bit her lower lip. “I see.”

“And I am honestly happy that you thought of me.” His face softened. “Because as much as I was joking a bit before, knowing that you trust me so much… Yeah, it means a lot.”

She gave him a shy smile. “That’s good. I wouldn’t consider asking anyone else.”

“And I’m very much willing to hear it.” He frowned. “As long as you’re not asking me to take your virginity.”

That made Sansa scoff. “Kind of late for that. Why is that the limit?” She asked, curious despite herself.

“Way too much pressure.” He said immediately. “And I do believe you should do it with someone special. Unless…” He drawled with a grin. “You’re about to say you love me.”

She scoffed again. “No. No virginity and no feelings.” She took a deep breath in. “I think I have a praise kink.”

“You think?” He repeated.

“I’ve never tested it.” She pointed out. “And sometimes things are better in theory than in practice, but it’s always interested me.”

“It makes sense.” He conceded.

“It does?”

“Sure. You do like praise in general and you’re a good one.” He explained, clearly thinking about the situation. “Honestly, it’d be weird if you said you were into BDSM.”

“Yeah, no.” She winced. “I don’t want you to be my Christian Grey. I don’t want to have to call you ‘sir’, and I sure as hell don’t want to be punished.”

Arthur smirked. “Of course you don’t. You’re a good girl.”

“Hey!” She blushed.

“I see.” His smirk grew impossibly large.

“I’m sure you do.” She grumbled.

“And you really never tried this before?”

Sansa knew she needed to be honest with him about this, but it didn’t make this any easier to tell. “The first - and only - time I suggested it to a boyfriend, he took it completely out of the context I wanted, and he turned it into a dom/sub thing where I had to earn his approval. It revealed a very mean side of his.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.” Arthur was frowning. “Who was the boyfriend?”

“Why?” She wanted to know.

“Just curiosity.”

No. The look in his eyes wasn’t one of curiosity. It was one that was promising someone a world of pain. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over and done.”

“It’s not. Because after him you never felt safe to ask again.” Arthur pointed out.

“I’m asking you, right?” She pressed.

“Okay…” He sighed. “No other experience?”

“That was a boyfriend that wanted to try some specific dirty talk.” She confessed. “But it was words of degradation and I hated it, every second of it.”

Arthur pressed his lips together, but said nothing. Sansa did not like the look in his eyes. “Can I ask his name?”

“Let’s not go there.” She hurried to say. “I just want to try this in a safe way. You don’t need to treat me like a princess or a china doll, that’s not what I want.”

“I get it.” He assured her. Arthur scratched his chin. “How do you think this would affect our relationship?”

Oh. Time to be careful. “I don’t expect you to date me, if that’s what you’re asking. It’d be more of a ‘friend with benefits’ kind of thing. However, I’d appreciate if we were exclusive for as long as it goes on.”

Arthur hummed. “Sounds fair.” He said slowly. “I need to think about this. Properly. Is that okay?”

“Of course it is. Take your time.” Sansa said, hoping her voice didn’t show the relief she was feeling. She thought he’d say no immediately. “I know I’m kind of springing this on you…”

“It’s fine.” Arthur said easily. “I’m surprised, not gonna lie, but it’s in a good way.”

“Is it?” Sansa frowned.

“You’re hot, Red.”

“Arthur.” She rolled her eyes.

“I’ll think about it.” He promised her. “But you do the same, okay? Remember you can change your mind at any time.”

“So can you.”

He just hummed again, but said nothing.

Sansa was happy to leave his place. This had been less horrible than she thought it’d be, but… Well, now she had to wait for his answer.

#madame baggio #crackship #crossover #gifs not mine #crossover pairings #modern au #fanfiction #posted on ao3 #game of thrones #sansa stark #king arthur legend of the sword #arthur pendragon #sansa x arthur #bad ideas and good girls

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agent-cupcake · 2 years

Text

helpless

Pairing: Sylvain Jose Gautier x f!reader

Warnings: explicit smut, non/dubcon

Tags: bondage, established relationships, unhealthy relationship, jealousy, light breeding kink, dark Sylvain

Word Count: 2.8k

Notes: I had it in my horny little mind today that, running on 2 hours of sleep, I was gonna write something that was short and depraved

“You’ve really helped Sylvain become a better man.”

Love was supposed to make people better, wasn’t it? The best version of themselves. You told yourself that you did help him. You gave Sylvain something that he needed.

“The two of you complement each other perfectly, I’m so jealous!”

Complementary. You liked that word. The two of you were perfectly suited, the jagged edges of your worst selves fitting together like some gruesome, beautiful puzzle.

“Ever since the two of you got married, Sylvain has changed.”

Yes, he, at the very least, waited until the two of you were alone to let the mask slip. In public, he was the happily married Margrave Gautier. A reformed skirt chaser turned razor sharp politician and devoted husband. In private, however—

“You go off on your own for two seconds,” Sylvain said, the bubble of calm he’d maintained all night popping now that you were in the sanctuary of your own room, “and when I catch up with you, you’re already flirting with another guy. Unbelievable.”

So that was the reason. You should have guessed considering how soon he wanted to leave the feast after arriving. There always was some reason. An excuse, some wrongdoing that tipped him over the edge, that brought you right back here.

“I wasn’t flirting,” you argued, your posture stiff as you watched him sit to take off his boots, abandoning his suit coat on the back of the chair.

“Oh, right,” he replied, rolling his eyes as the right boot thunked to the floor. “I shouldn’t trust my lying eyes, not when I have you to tell me what I actually saw.” The left boot joined the first, the sound making you flinch despite yourself.

“I’m just saying,” you said, talking slowly in a desperate attempt to keep your cool, “that I wasn’t flirting with anybody. You’re overreacting.”

He stood up to face you, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “Don’t try to turn this around on me.”

“I’m not,” you said, your tone softening and hands up to placate him, “but-”

“Do you have any idea how many beautiful women throw themselves at me?” Sylvain asked, cutting you off. His eyes were dark, intense. Frightening. “But I made you a promise, and I’ve never broken it. I don’t even look at other girls anymore.” He took a step towards you, his voice lowering coldly. “I guess I just don’t understand why you can’t do the same. I mean, what could you possibly want from another guy that I can’t give you?”

Guilt twisted like a knife in your stomach. It was a ridiculous accusation, but the way he said it made you doubt yourself, made you want to apologize. “There’s nothing, Sylvain,” you told him softly. “I don’t want anyone else, we were just talking.”

He laughed humorlessly, running a hand through his hair. “Just talking,” Sylvain repeated, nodding. “Right. Fine. Why don’t we talk, then?”

“Okay,” you agreed nervously, unsure of what that offer meant. He continued to get closer. Taller, stronger, physically imposing. It wasn’t as if you thought Sylvain was dangerous to you, although the stormy expression he wore made your stomach twist into anxious knots. Only a step away, he slowly scanned your body, those dark eyes piercing.

“I get it, you know,” he said, his tone much calmer. “It’s not your fault. You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

“What?” you asked, shifting awkwardly as you tried to decide if you wanted to evade him or not.

“Wearing pretty dresses, being a flirt, charming every guy you meet. It’s just how you are, I get it. And I know I shouldn’t let it bother me like it does,” Sylvain continued, speaking as if he hadn’t heard you. “But the idea of losing you to another guy…” He shook his head, a jittery, anxious motion. “I can’t stand it.” He laughed again, and the sound was grim, a mockery of humor. “I think I’d kill him.”

You opened your mouth to object, or to say something to diffuse that unnerving statement because it was utterly ridiculous—there was no world in which you would choose anyone other than Sylvain—but Sylvain grabbed you instead, dragging you into a kiss.

Your body fit against his as perfectly as if you had been made for it, even if you were unprepared and certainly not in the mood. Sylvain’s kiss now was all teeth and tongue, he wasn’t trying to make it good for you. He was trying to stake a claim, making you whimper when he bit your lip too hard, when he pulled your hair to keep your face tilted upward for him. And all the while, his hands picked at your dress to get it undone, slipping the long sash from your waist and undoing the laces at the back. Fabric ripped when his fervor resulted in violence, he clearly didn’t care very much about being considerate to you or your dress in his endeavor to get you undressed.

This was only going to end one way. But that was the way it always was, the only resolution the two of you ever managed to find.

“I don’t want to,” you said breathlessly, trying to fix your clothes and get some space from him, turning your face away. “Not while you’re angry. Can’t we just… can’t we just talk? Please?”

“Do you think I’m gonna hurt you?” Sylvain asked. His tone, a little husky, a little breathy, sounded more normal. But his eyes were still dark. Dark with anger or lust, you didn’t know. “Come on, baby. You know I would never do that.”

That wasn’t true, he had to know that wasn’t true because he had hurt you before, and you weren’t sure if he was trying to convince you or himself.

“You’re ruining my dress,” you said, unable to meet his eyes despite how close he was.

“My dress,” he corrected sharply. “I’m the one who bought it. Really, if you think about it, everything you’re wearing belongs to me. That means I can do whatever I want with it, right?”

“That’s not the point,” you said, your eyebrows furrowing.

“What is the point, then?” he asked, grabbing your face to make you meet his eyes. You didn’t know what to say, especially not while looking right at him. He raised an eyebrow. "Nothing? I thought you wanted to talk."

Narrow, sharp jaw, thick eyelashes, an unruly lock of red hair flipped over his brow. You looked at him and felt a wave of terror, of tenderness. He was your Sylvain. How could you love and hate him so much at the same time, to the extremes that left you feeling like the feelings would burst out, cracking bones and rupturing organs and leaving you utterly broken? You shook your head, tugging at his wrist to get him to let you free.

Sylvain let out an unsteady breath, licking his lips as he considered something. Making a choice, making your choice. He pulled away. Rather than let you fall, he spun you around and pushed you forward in an awkward stumble until your knees were braced against the edge of the bed.

“What-” you began to ask, shaking.

“I’d never hurt you,” he said, loosening the laces on your dress completely so he wrestle it off of you. You struggled, more out of blind panic than anything else, but he had no problems getting you stripped down to just your panties, stockings, and heels. Goosebumps rose over your arms and chills rushed down your back, your nipples tightening in the cooler air. You could only imagine what you looked like and embarrassment burned a hot flush beneath your skin, tears biting the back of your eyes. “I wouldn’t even have to do this if you didn’t get me so riled up,” Sylvain continued. “Seriously, how could you wear something like this and not expect to have the undivided attention of every guy who sees you?” You looked over your shoulder to see him holding up your poor, ripped dress.

“Sylvain, I really don’t want to do this right now,” you said, covering your chest uncomfortably. “I-I’m tired.”

“Haven’t you ever heard the saying ‘don’t go to bed angry’?” he asked, throwing your dress aside.

“Bu-” Your response cut off with a yelp when he suddenly pushed you onto the bed, gathering your arms together behind your back. Instead of securing your wrists like you expected, Sylvain wrapped the silky tie of your dress around your forearms, looping and tying it at the elbow to keep your arms completely out of the way, your chest forced forward when he pulled you up by the handle created between your arms. “What are you doing?” you demanded, your heart really beginning to race. He had tied your wrists before, but this was different. It wasn’t a comfortable position. Fighting against the restraints could seriously hurt your shoulders.

“Ah, see, I changed my mind about the whole talking thing,” he said, tugging your panties from your hips and down your legs until you obediently allowed him to take them off. He left the stockings and heels. “If you’re just going to lie to my face and play the victim, what’s the point? Personally, I think you should listen more. I mean, I am your husband. That counts for something, right? I don’t think it’s that unreasonable.”

The weight of his body joined you on the bed, his knees on either side of your hips. You looked back at him, about to ask what he was doing. It wasn’t really hard for him to get your mouth open from there, you didn’t even think about biting his fingers until he’d already shoved the wad of fabric into your mouth. After a second, you realized with a burst of red hot shame that it was your own panties. Before you could try and get them out, you heard the sound of fabric zipping against itself and he had another piece of fabric—his neck scarf, probably—pressed between your lips. Sylvain used it like a horse’s reigns to pull your head back and force your back into a painful arch as he secured the ends.

You grunted and tried to express your disapproval, but the sounds were incomprehensible mush.

“Hey, look at that. I can already sense an improvement,” Sylvain said, checking to make sure the gag was secure. With your arms behind your back, you couldn’t do anything to get out of it. Already your saliva was soaking into the silky fabric of your panties, and you could smell yourself on them. You could smell him too, the intoxicating scent of his cologne seeped into his neck scarf.

You tried to speak, but all that came out were even more unattractive muffled noises.

“What was that?” Sylvain asked, covering your body with his own as he leaned over you. He was still mostly clothed, the fabric of his shirt and pants rough against your bare skin. You tried to speak again, louder, with the same predictable results. Panic gurgled up in your chest, fear causing your breathing to speed up, to become shallow. “Hey, hey, I was just kidding,” he said sweetly, petting your hair away from your face. “Don’t get so upset. I don’t want you to choke or something.”

Sylvain sat back, readjusting you higher on the bed using the handle of the scarf binding your arms. It made you yelp, a sob of pain forcing more stress on your shoulders.

“No, it’s okay,” Sylvain said sweetly. “Just relax, baby.” Rather than sitting astride your hips, he spread your legs so he could kneel between them. You jumped at the feeling of his warm palms on the backs of your thighs, his fingers digging into the flesh as they traced the tops of the stockings. “It kinda drives me wild when you wear these. But I guess you know that, huh?”

If you could have responded, you would have agreed. There were few things you didn’t do for Sylvain’s sake. Even now. He sighed happily, his mood taking another extreme turn. You wished you could see his face to know if it was authentic, but it was too difficult to try and look.

“I’d love it if I could keep you just like this all the time,” Sylvain said, his palms sliding upwards to grope your ass, stretching his hands across the top of your thighs to make it jiggle. You squirmed and pressed your face into the bed, glad that he couldn’t see or hear your embarrassment at being played with like this because it was wrong on so many other levels, but there was a juvenile part of you that languished in the pure humiliation of it. His thumbs followed the intentation of your spine as his hands slid up, pushing beneath your arms to settle around your waist. “Everything would be so much easier. I’d never have to worry about other guys, or that you’ll get hurt. Guess that’s pretty selfish though.”

Sylvain’s hands slipped beneath you, sliding over your stomach, wrapping around your torso to pull you up onto your knees and against him.

“But if you think about it,” he said, the air of his words brushing your skin and making you shiver, his calloused hands roaming your body hungrily. “That’s not a terrible idea. We really need to start getting serious about building our family.”

You made a sound of doubt, squirming uncomfortably again. Sylvain often brought up the idea of having children, but you didn’t know if you were ready. While you were made for this sort of treatment, babies were different. They were delicate.

“Yeah, I know,” he said softly, his voice low and comforting, rumbling against you. Even with your arms smushed between your bodies, you could feel how warm he was. “But… Fuck, babe, you’d look so hot,” Sylvain groaned, grinding you against his clothed erection while dropping hot, wet kisses on the side of your neck, his hands palming and teasing your breasts relentlessly. “I mean, I didn’t think I’d ever be into it, but the idea of fucking you pregnant is…”

He didn’t finish that thought, one of his hands dropping down between your legs. Slipping past the outer lips, he easily found your entrance. What he found made him laugh, a significantly warmer sound than earlier.

“Wow, seems like you feel the same.”

You whined, squirmed. If you could talk, you weren’t sure what you’d tell him. Sylvain knew that you were taking a remedy to keep from getting pregnant but if he forbade it outright, you wouldn’t put up any significant fight. If he wanted, you knew he’d be able to convince you to do whatever he wanted. The feeling of arousal pooling hot between your legs was about as wrong as everything else you felt, the conditioning of accepting abnormality and fear as need and want. No matter what, you still wanted to be a good girl for Sylvain, you wanted to be his good little wife because you were special, because he chose you, because he loved you, because no matter what else, you were the only one for him.

“It’s not a bad idea,” Sylvain said, his fingers dragging upward to tease your clit. You shook in his arms, your head falling back on his shoulder. “I could take some time away… I wonder how long it’d take. A week? A month?”

Sylvain had to tighten his grip around your torso from the way you were trying to grind against his fingers, his hips still rocking against your ass as he rubbed your clit. You wanted more, but you couldn’t ask for it. You wanted to hold onto him, but you couldn’t do anything with your useless arms.

“You won’t be able to go out very much when you’re pregnant,” Sylvain told you, his words softening with intensity and lust. “I mean, I can’t have you risking our baby. That’s okay though. It’s great, really. And once you’ve had my heir, everyone is gonna know that you’re mine.”

You whined in objection that he should worry about that at all, but it must have sounded like a moan because Sylvain laughed indulgently and pressed another wet kiss to the side of your jaw before unceremoniously letting you go. It wasn’t very romantic that he would let you fall face-first into the bed, nor was it very sensual that he just shoved his pants and belt down his thighs. There was very little soft or subtle intimacy in the way he lined himself up with your dripping entrance and gripped your hips to roughly pull you onto his cock. Those things didn’t really matter though. Regardless of anything else that you felt, the sensation made you moan through the barrier of the gag. Another perfect fit. Sylvain moaned too, just holding you there for a moment, rolling his hips as if to prove how deep within you he was.

“Sorry,” he said with a breathless kind of chuckle. “I was gonna let you come first, but-” Sylvain pulled out, thrusting back in with a wet sound and skin slapping skin. “You know how I am. Sometimes I just can’t help myself.”

#sylvain jose gautier #sylvain jose gautier x reader #fe sylvain #fe sylvain x reader #fire emblem three houses #fe3h #my writing #not sfw #tw.dubcon

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claymorexpunisher · 2 years

Text

Poppin The Question- Ch.5/10 (Werewolf!Shield) (18+ Fic) (Repost)

Summary: Got nothin' to say about this chapter, lmao. Enjoy and leave comments if you did (or didn't). I think this was quite literally my very first WWE fic. Wow!

Tags: 18+, M/M, smut, fluff, angst, angst with a happy ending, hair-pulling, hair kink, daddy kink, name-calling.

Word Count: 17,916

A few months later, the boys and the rest of the RAW roster were gearing up for WrestleMania.

And Roman, being the winner of that year's Royal Rumble, was both annoyed and excited that he once again was going up against Vince's first-born golden child, Brock Lesnar.

The fans were also pretty excited at the prospect of having a new and fighting champion as well.

It had been 5 months to be exact.

And it had been just as long since that night in the woods.

Roman, Seth and Jon never talked about that night.

The boys themselves were on good terms, however.

They were talking, joking and just being best friends again.

But no matter how much he tried, Roman just couldn't shake the guilt that he's felt all this time.

He knew Jon was right.

He knew he had every right to move on with his life, and to have fun again.

After all, it was Alexis who ended it.

But...there was something else he wasn't telling the boys.

While Roman was an alpha he had a bit of a submissive streak.

Even the fans picked up on it sometimes while he was doing something as innocent as sparring against someone, or even interacting with his boys.

And while Alexis started off being supportive and tried to indulge him whenever she could, it ended up taking a huge toll on their marriage.

She never belittled him for it, though.

She never made him feel less than because he was an alpha who just so happened to enjoy being cuddled, fucked and told he was good after a hard day's work.

Or that he did his best, and that that was enough.

But she just wasn't satisfied and Roman didn't fault her for ending things.

Alexis knew he swung both ways.

And she knew that he found both Seth and Jon attractive, and she was okay with that.

She trusted him and she knew he wouldn't fool around with anyone outside of their marriage, much less with people so close to them both.

Some people would view their past relationship as a little more than unconventional, but Roman appreciated how open and accepting she was when it came to who he was, at least in that regard.

And he appreciated being able to talk to her about that kinda thing.

But he just couldn't stop thinking about the whole encounter.

And after tonight, unbeknownst to Roman, he was going to be feeling way worse and confused.

Roman was deep in his thoughts when Jon found him and slung his arm over his shoulder.

''How's it goin', champ?'' Jon drawled with a smirk.

Roman couldn't help but chuckle in amusement as he locked eyes with Jon.

''Hol' up now. I'm not champ just yet, babe.'' Roman laughed, only to get a playful eye roll in response.

''Don't roll your eyes at me, Mox.'' Roman growled equally as playful.

Both men started aggressively rolling on the ground, their bared canines snapping until Seth, overhearing the conversation, found them and cut in with a laugh.

''Alright, enough you two. You got this in the bag, Big Guy.'' Seth remarked as he joined the duo and sat on the bench that the pair once occupied.

Roman ducked his head a little at the compliment as he and Jon dusted themselves off and got up off the floor, and he shot both men a grateful grin.

''We'll see.'' He conceded.

Jon gave Roman a gentle and affectionate head butt and chuckled, ridiculously endeared.

''So modest.'' Ruffling Romans wet hair, Jon joined Seth on the bench.

''I just wish I didn't have to do this shit all over again with Brock, man...'' Roman flashed them an irritated look as he took a generous swig from his near frozen water bottle.

Both Jon and Seth understood where Roman was coming from.

They couldn't count how many times they were shoved into the same boring feuds with the same people every week without any real payoff.

But they felt especially bad for Roman because Brock was nowhere near a deserving opponent.

''I know, bro.'' Seth said, his tone full of sympathy.

Leaning against Seth, Jon eyed Roman's tense back.

''Tonight's your lucky night, Uce. I can feel it.''

Roman dumped his now empty water bottle in the trash bin and ran his fingers through his hair.

''Let's just hope it's a decent match at least.'' Roman sighed, leaving Jon and Seth alone with their thoughts as Roman got called for his match.

----- The match that night left Roman both exhausted-emotionally and physically, but also absolutely elated.

Finally, he was Universal Champion.

Finally, they no longer had to deal with Brock...well, that was until the powers that be decided otherwise.

Still, all Roman wanted to do was go to the hotel and sleep the night off.

But Jon and Seth had other plans.

''Congrats, Big Dog.'' Seth smiled at the exhausted man.

''Thank you, thank you.'' Roman smiled back tiredly, adjusting the title up over his shoulder.

Roman laughed a little painfully as he felt Jon plaster himself onto Roman's aching back.

''We goin' out to celebrate?'' Jon bounced excitedly against Roman's back making him laugh again.

But his brow furrowed when he felt more than heard Roman's tired sigh.

''We are gonna celebrate..aren't we?'' Jon raised a ginger brow as Roman shrugged, wrinkling his nose in distaste at the mere thought of going anywhere except to his hotel room for the night.

''...Fine. You're the champ, so you decide how we celebrate.'' Jon conceded.

Roman sighed once again, this time in fond exasperation.

''I honestly just wanna sleep, man... Maybe we can do something tomorrow night after RAW...?'' Roman offered, but Jon was having none of it.

''Cmon, man- look, tell ya what. Why don't we crash together- like old times! Huh? Crack open a beer or two...or three?'' Jon laughed, the two men joining in.

Slinging his arm around Roman, Jon ruffled his dark hair, smiling encouragingly.

Roman reluctantly nodded, smiling fondly at the small yip released by the ginger.

----- Not even 2 hours later Roman, Seth and Jon piled up in bed to sleep after knocking back a couple beers.

Well, all except Roman.

With all his exhaustion, Roman couldn't for the life of him get some sleep.

Getting up groggily to stretch out his limbs, Roman ran his fingers through his thick black hair, and after he sluggishly walked toward the bathroom to relieve his full bladder, he strode over to the door to leave their shared room.

Where he was going, Roman didn't know.

But he just needed to get out of that room and gather his thoughts.

But his actions were interrupted by a sleepy voice coming from the bed behind him.

''Going somewhere, Ro?'' Jon asked gruffly.

His eyes peered curiously up at Roman from where he rested against Seth's stomach.

''Yeah. Going for a run maybe, I dunno.'' Roman shrugged, still facing the door.

''Thought you were exhausted.''

Roman groaned irritably as he caught Jon’s suspicious and borderline icy tone, and he rolled his eyes before he turned around to face the ginger.

''I'll be back, alright? Relax.'' He replied, raising his voice an octave, causing Seth's body to give a small jolt even in his deep beer-induced slumber.

Roman bristled with jealousy as he watched Jon run his fingers through Seth's curls soothingly.

He wasn't jealous of Seth, really...

He wasn't.

And the last thing he wanted was for them to go back to square one but, he just didn't know how to voice his thoughts and fears to either of his friends.

He was their pack leader.

The strong one.

The one they turned to when they needed to.

The one who kept them in check, kept them in line.

He knew they trusted him with their lives and vice versa, but he just couldn't trust them this time.

Not with this.

Not when his brain was constantly muddled with these conflicting feelings since that night in the woods- hell, ever since he could remember.

''What the hell's your problem, man?'' Jon whispered harshly, not wanting to disturb Seth again.

''Aren't I supposed to be the bratty one of this group? What's your deal?'' Jon finally stood up and he crossed his arms over his chest.

Roman scoffed dryly, shrugging his shoulders.

''That's just it, isn't it?'' He remarked.

Roman's hands played with the drawstring of his sweatpants simply for something to do.

As he looked down at his pants, he didn't see Jon’s brow furrow in confusion.

''What are you talkin about, Ro?'' Jon exclaimed.

His frustrations were beginning to escalate.

''Just forget it, Jon.'' Roman sighed, shaking his head and not wanting to get into this.

He got the shock of his life when he was met with Jon’s furious blue eyes and his hand firmly gripped Roman's chin.

Roman shrugged the hand off roughly, snarling softly under his breath.

''No. I will not forget it, Roman.'' Jon growled.

''Jon, I'm warning y-'' Roman started, only for Jon to interrupt.

''Oh, we're startin' that ''my dick is bigger than yours'' alpha bullshit again, are we?''

Seth woke up alarmed to see Roman and Jon scuffling on the ground for the second time that day, only this time the growls and snarls he heard coming from them were anything but playful.

He stood up and immediately pulled both men apart.

''Are we really doing this again?'' Seth looked between Roman and Jon who were glaring daggers at one another.

This wasn't exactly how he planned to spend the evening after having a few drinks with his boys and some much-needed RnR.

He shoved Jon back when he lunged for Roman again, clearly fired up for whatever reason unknown to Seth.

''Okay. Both of you, calm down! Jeez...what happened now?'' Seth continued to glance between them, waiting for an explanation, when Jon finally exploded.

''He's doin it again, man!'' Jon pointed at Roman in an accusatory tone to which Roman responded with a glare of his own.

''Seriously, dude? You are such a child, dawg!'' Roman sneered.

Then he moved toward the door again and rested his forehead against it when he was stopped once again, this time by Seth's hand on his shoulder.

His eyes flashed angrily when Jon spat his next words, more so speaking at Roman than to him.

''I'm a fuckin child for wantin to know if you're okay? For wantin to fuckin help you!?'' Jon bellowed, shrugging off Seth's calming hand as it came to rest on the back of his neck in the placating way the three of them always did when either one was stressed or fired up.

'''Hey.'' Seth said.

''Lower your voices, guys. We don't want security coming.''

''Fuck that!'' Jon roared, being shushed loudly by Seth as a result.

''No! I'm sick o' his shit! We're your best friends! Your pack! It's our job to know if somethin's wrong, you prick!'' Jon spat again.

However, Roman didn't take the bait.

Instead, he gave Seth a dry look.

''I honestly don't know how I dealt with his ass when we got split up.''

Seth blinked at that.

He was more than a little shocked by Roman's comment and he felt Jon flinch slightly due to their close proximity.

Seth watched as Jon then just quietly moved toward the bed, hooking one ankle over the other once he laid down.

Jon didn't look at either of them.

Seth couldn't even begin to understand what was going on with Roman.

He never spoke this way to anyone, ever- much less to Jon- unless they genuinely deserved it.

''Dude, what is up with you-'' Seth clamped his mouth shut when Roman flashed his now bright yellow and angry eyes at him, the wild look in them started to make Seth nervous.

They stayed that way until Roman caught sight of the wounded look on Jon’s face that the ginger quickly tried to hide.

''Babe...I'm sorry. You know I didn't mean that...'' Roman slid into the spot on the bed next to Jon and he ran one of his large hands smoothly over the other man's buzzed cut head, biting back a sigh of disappointment when he was met with no response.

He tried to hold Jon’s face only to be shoved away.

''Nah. Don't worry bout it, Ro..'' Jon shrugged, feigning a nonchalant attitude.

''Just go. You're right, you don't owe me nothin'.'' Jon shrugged again.

''It's cool.''

''.....Can I show you guys something?'' Roman asked shyly.

His palms began to sweat.

He couldn't believe he was about to do this, but he knew he had to.

He wasn't gonna lose them again out of fear.

Or out of shame.

He was going to be honest with them like they deserved, no matter the outcome.

He had to trust in them.

He did trust them.

Roman nervously reached for his phone that he had placed on the bedside table.

''We've seen it already, Ro. 'Member?'' Jon quipped like a smart ass, unable to help himself.

''Don't be a dick, Mox.'' Roman replied.

Jon was about to make another smart-assed comment, until he noticed the slight tremble in Roman's hands.

''Okay, I'm sorry.'' He made his point by affectionately squeezing the back of Roman's neck.

He and Seth watched as Roman fiddled with his phone, until he pulled up a video.

And on that video, a well-built man- about Roman's size, give or take- laid at another equally well-built man's feet.

Roman didn't dare look either Seth nor Jon in the eye.

And he didn't know if their silence was something he was grateful for or not.

''Rome...'' Seth started to speak but he cut himself off when the man on the video motioned for the black-haired man on the ground to unbuckle his top's jeans.

Once the man's cock was exposed, the black-haired man took the shaft into his hand, and he gave the head a few small kitten-like licks and he stroked it slowly as his top showered him with praise.

Before the video could go on, Roman shut it off and tossed his phone onto the bed as if it were a ticking time bomb. '

'This was a mistake...'' Roman said in a quivering voice.

He strode over to the door, ready to bolt again.

''C'mon, man. Stop running.'' Jon implored, his tone void of the malice and anger from earlier.

All that was left was frustration and sadness.

Roman held the knob in his hand so tight that Jon had to pry his fingers off of it.

He sighed in defeat, and followed Jon to the bed with Seth sitting to his left.

''Get on your knees, Ro.'' Jon was the one to fill the silence as it began to consume the room.

He gave Roman an expectant look and it was returned with a blank expression from the Samoan.

Jon rolled his eyes at Roman's hesitance.

''Cmon, Ro. I need my cock sucked and you need to be told you're a good boy.'' Jon replied casually, not missing the sharp intake of breath from Roman.

''I-I don't think so, man...'' Roman stuttered.

Jon leaned forward with his elbows resting against his knees.

''So, what? You're just gonna keep it all bottled up inside and keep bein' a dick to us instead?''

''Oh, because you're such an expert at sharing your feelings,'' Roman snapped.

But Jon was unbothered because he knew Roman was just lashing out at him out of pure fear and nervousness.

Instead, Jon rubbed a hand down his own face, and he tried to calm Roman down.

''You'd do this for me, right?''

''Thanks, but I don't need the charity.'' Roman scoffed as he rolled his neck slowly when Jon let out a loud groan.

'Dude, it's not charity!'' Jon was going to go on but instead, he pulled Roman into a heated kiss, taking advantage of Roman's surprised gasp to expertly lick into the man's mouth.

Then he pulled away, panting hard and his mouth glistening.

''Look, I think we've all established that we're attracted to each other. Right? Cool. So, what's the problem? Let us do this for you, man!'' Jon nudged him encouragingly, but Roman still didn't look convinced.

Rather than press him, Jon beckoned Seth in front of him.

''...Okay then. Get on your knees, Seth.'' Jon commanded and he smiled when Seth got on his knees in front of him without objections, to Roman's utter shock.

''Good boy.''

And with that, Jon stood up to unbuckle his jeans, batting Seth's impatient hands away with a mild scowl.

''Did I say you could touch?'' He asked firmly, even though Seth's eagerness made his cock stir in his jeans, and Roman wasn't too far behind.

The latter of the three grabbed one of the pillows on the bed and he laid it across his lap over his raging erection as he watched his two best friends.

''Did I say you could touch?'' Jon asked again, punctuating his words with a firm tug to Seth's curls until Seth responded.

''I-I'm sorry, Sir...'' Seth whimpered, sighing when Jon loosened his grip, and he ran his blunt fingernails over Seth's scalp in silent praise.

Seth watched patiently as Jon continued to remove his own clothes.

Once that was done, Jon motioned to Seth's clothes, and he gave him a single command.

''Off. Now.''

''Yes, Si-'' Seth went to respond before being cut off by Roman's soft rumbling voice.

''Can I do it?'' Roman asked as he looked Seth straight in the eye hungrily, making the raven-haired man smirk.

''What?'' Jon raised a brow as he watched Roman's aroused yet still tentative features carefully.

He laid on his side and cupped Roman's chin to make Roman look at him.

''You wanna undress 'im?''

Roman nodded jerkily and he cleared his throat to respond properly.

''Yes, Sir.”

Roman sighed once those two words came out of his mouth.

The words felt so right as he said them.

He practically purred in delight when this time his scalp was scratched lightly by Jon, who nodded his approval.

''Okay. Go 'head.''

Jon sat back and watched Roman undress Seth, while giving his own cock a few firm tugs.

Eyeing Roman intently, he knew the man was nervous.

Almost like he was measuring his movements, expecting Jon to correct him at any second.

In an attempt to soothe Roman's nerves, Jon sat up and kissed a patch of skin on Roman's shoulder that was peeking from his tank top.

''It's okay, Ro. Seth knows what I expect of him. You don't. Let's just relax and have some fun, alright? It's just us.''

Kissing that spot on Roman's shoulder again, he stayed sitting at the edge of the bed, and he flashed Seth a dimply and devilish smirk when they both could tell that Roman was starting to relax.

Undressing Seth in record time, Roman sank back down to his knees and took Seth's cock into his large hand and smiled up at him with a wicked glint in his eye before he gave the head a long swipe of his tongue.

''Fuck...'' Seth gasped, smirking down at Roman through hazy eyes.

Roman returned the smile and he began to breathe through his nose to Seth further down his throat, making him and Jon groan.

Jon’s hand began to pump his cock faster, growing impossibly harder as Roman pulled his mouth away from Seth's cock to ask, ''You missed my mouth on you, Seth?'' Roman asked with a seductive smirk.

Roman's full lips glistened sinfully with spit and precum as he looked into Seth's chocolate brown eyes that began to shine with pleasure.

All Seth could do was release a deep, guttural groan and he nodded enthusiastically as Roman's mouth sank down onto him once again.

Resting his head against the sheets, Seth turned his head, and he aimed that same lustful smirk at Jon who watched the scene intently.

''Seems like we're not the only ones enjoying ourselves.'' Seth laughed.

''You like watching us, Sir?'' he purred.

'You like watching him suck me off- fuck...! He's so good at that...'' Seth grunted through clenched teeth.

Seth threw his head back against the sheets and he released Roman's hair from the bun that the man pretty much always sported after shows or on his downtime, and he carded his fingers through the strands then fisted it into his hand as Roman brought him closer and closer to the edge.

''I know we've done this before but...shit,'' Seth chuckled breathlessly.

''I didn't know you were this good of a cock slut, Ro.'' He praised and let his eyes flutter shut in pleasure.

Roman's mouth moved down to Seth's balls to give them some attention, and at Seth's words, one of his hands palmed himself over his sweats and he damn near mewled with his mouth still pleasuring Seth.

At the sound, Seth's eyes reopened, and he looked into Roman's glassy brown eyes that now looked more like a stunning bronze as the wolf in him struggled to contain itself.

''Oh really?” Seth grinned wickedly.

''You like that, Ro?'' Seth cooed seductively.

''You need this, uh? You need to have your mouth filled with a big hard cock. Hm?'' He continued filthily.

Roman couldn't believe his luck.

If he weren't so focused on bringing pleasure to Seth, he'd pinch himself right now.

And he'd beat himself up for being so stupid.

Of course, Jon and Seth understood him and tried their hardest to indulge his needs.

Of course.

Roman replied with a sharp nod as he swirled his velvety tongue along the head of Seth's cock.

''Yeah. Thought so.'' Seth quipped.

Both men were so engrossed in their activities, that they missed the moment Jon stood up to grab the small bottle of lube he always kept in his carry-on bag.

Roman struggled to not let out a whimper of disappointment when he felt Jon shake him by the shoulder slightly.

''Oh, you don't wanna get fucked? Okay, my mistake.'' Jon lifted his hands, trying to keep a straight face as he made to put the bottle back in its original place.

Seth and Jon burst into laughter as Roman hurriedly stood up to grab Jon to try and stop him.

''No.'' Roman stuttered.

''No?'' Jon raised a brow.

''I mean- fuck me.'' Roman tried again as his cheeks burned in embarrassment or arousal-both, maybe.

After the three of them got themselves fully undressed, Seth and Jon settled Roman onto the bed.

Seth was in charge of keeping Roman as relaxed as possible while Jon stretched him open gently.

Before too long the Samoan's hips tried their damnest to match the delicious rhythm of Jon’s fingers.

His moans escalated when he felt Seth's large hand firmly wrap itself around his throat as the man whispered filth into his ear.

''You want it?'' Seth whispered huskily.

His lips took their time to nibble and suck on the hot skin of Roman's neck before moving back up to his ear to whisper more filth.

''I might get in there after Mox.'' Seth chuckled huskily, playfully biting Roman's scruffy chin.

Eventually, Jon slowly withdrew his fingers, deeming Roman ready for him.

As he slowly entered Roman, Jon let him gradually adjust to his girth.

After a little while, he started to move his hips a little faster, gripping Roman's hips tightly for leverage.

''How's that?'' Jon breathed.

All Roman could do was moan in response and roll his hips even more enthusiastically against Jon’s.

He clawed at Jon’s forearms as the sensations of Jon thrusting into him and Seth whispering and mouthing against him overwhelmed him.

His body felt like it was on fire in the most delicious way possible.

''Don't stop...! Please...'' Roman whimpered.

Their golden eyes locked as their bodies moved in unison.

Roman's eyes lost focus on Jon’s as he felt the head of Jon’s cock brush up against that bundle of nerves.

''Ohh, that's the spot, is it? S' that feel good? Look at you taking me like a good little cockwhore.'' Jon’s words came out slurred as his thrusts continued.

''I think you can do better than that, Sir.'' Roman smirked.

''Harder.'' Roman commanded.

''Was that a challenge, Ro?'' Jon lifted a brow as he asked.

He felt his balls tighten as Roman continued to smirk at him while he looked at him through his lashes.

''You can take that however you want.'' Roman shrugged.

''...Pin him down.''

Roman's breath was taken away as Seth pinned his wrists above his head against the bed and Jon started jackhammering into him.

At first Roman's mouth remained open in a silent moan until his body began to tremble and small whimpers left his lips.

''Got nothin to say now, huh?'' Jon growled, grabbing onto Roman's raven-colored locks roughly.

Jon blinked back the beads of sweat that started to pool along his face.

Then he attached his lips to Roman's for a couple of heated seconds until Roman pulled away and it was like a dam had been opened.

''Please.'' Roman whimpered under his breath repeatedly.

He bit back a wince only to let out a guttural moan when he felt a sharp yet delicious tug against his nipple, and he keened loudly as Seth released the tender bud from between his teeth and he soothed it with his tongue.

''Think he wants you to come inside him, Mox.'' Seth said, as he started to lazily stroke Roman's cock between his and Jon’s bodies.

''Yes...'' Roman hissed.

''Fuckin give it to me. I want it, please. Need it so bad, Sir. Wanna come inside me, sir? Huh?'' Roman babbled, only to get his breath taken away again by Jon’s hands firmly against his throat.

He felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes at the overload of sensations coursing through his body as he was being choked and used.

His eyes rolled back into his skull just as Jon reached his peak, releasing a long growl of pleasure along with a sharp bite to Roman's neck that had both Roman and Seth's cocks twitching in arousal.

Jon shivered pleasantly as the mild copper taste of Roman's blood flooded his tastebuds while Roman's entire body shook as Jon’s warm release gushed inside him, and he started to struggle against Seth's strong grip.

Once Seth released his wrists, Roman held onto Jon and Seth, and he shared a heated kiss with Seth.

Roman's own release came soon enough when Seth wrapped his mouth around him, bobbing his head enthusiastically until Roman was left shivering with aftershocks, tears caused by overstimulation streaming down his cheeks.

Roman felt warm all over when soft kisses and caresses were peppered everywhere the men could reach and before Roman knew it, he was sobbing uncontrollably, hiding his face into the crook of his elbow as his body shook with silent sobs instead of the pleasure from a few minutes earlier.

''I'm s-sorry...'' Roman cleared the tears away from his throat and wiped his eyes, not meeting Jon’s nor Seth's concerned eyes.

''You alright?'' Jon asked as he lied next to Roman on the bed once he had cleaned them both up.

His fingers carded soothingly through the Samoan's dark hair in an effort to soothe him while Seth continued to pepper soft and loving kisses along Roman's neck, making the man bare his neck to give Seth better access.

''Yes...''Roman sighed pleasantly as he slowly came back down from his high.

''Thank you, guys. And I'm sorry for actin like such an asshole to y'all...I promise I won't hide shit anymore. Okay?''

''We're gonna hold you to that.'' Jon winked.

''... Are we gonna leave this guy's blue balls hangin'?'' Roman asked with a teasing smirk.

''Noo.'' Seth whined through soft laughter.

Roman licked his lips, eyeing Seth seductively before his eyes shone golden again, and he nipped at Seth's nipple playfully, laughing as the man released a gasp of surprise mixed with pleasure.

''You can't just do that, babe.'' Seth whined again in protest.

-----

The next morning, the boys woke up in an extra good mood.

But instead of getting in their usually early-morning workout at the gym, they rolled around in the sheets and spent the day together, getting in their workout without having to leave their room.

(Next Chapter.)

(Prev. Chapter)

#roman reigns #seth rollins #dean ambrose #jon moxley #wwe fic #wrestling fic #wrestling smut #wwe smut #the shield #the shield smut #wwe fan fiction

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thebiggestnope · 2 years

Text

Two Older Men Get Kinky (In a Sweet Way) - Part Two

NSFT. 18+. Minors scram. CW: Wall sex, rough sex, oral sex, anal sex, dirty talk, degradation kink, after care.

Two-part drabble inspired by The Ugliest Roses by @rinnysega, about the Rough Love AU (@lethalamigos) in which Jose and Chepe have left the Encanto. Left behind and brokenhearted, Gus and Bruno get together and build something beautiful. Gus belongs to @rinnysega, Chepe belongs to @papermachette, Jose belongs to @my-gunpowder. Contains spoilers for The Precipice by @rinnysega

Part One

--------- Gus might not have liked listening to Bruno recount his thirteenth birthday party, but it did, if nothing else, give him a lot of insight into his boyfriend’s psyche.

He apologized – dios, how he apologized – but Bruno waved Gus’s words away.

“I forgive you,” he said simply. “And anyway, it wasn’t entirely your fault.”

Gus buried his head in his hands. “I was such a shit.” he lamented.

“Sometimes,” Bruno agreed. “But so was I.”

“And now you like to be fucked against a wall all the time.”

“I like to be fucked rough,” corrected Bruno. “And you can’t pretend, after however many years with Chepe, that you don’t feel the same.”

Gus laughed. “We’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Maybe,” said Bruno. “But trust me when I tell you that I know what I like. Now stop judging and get over here.”

It was Bruno’s turn to bottom that night. Their routine had evolved as summer began to slip into fall, and they’d begun to trade off topping each other, each of them learning to tap into a dominant side that they had either been long dormant (for Gus) or entirely undeveloped (for Bruno).

These days, Bruno’s fingers on Gus’s shirt weren’t as gentle as they were a few weeks ago. He’d gotten the hang of tearing Gus’s clothes from him without hurting his leg, and he’d discovered that if he threw Gus’s ankle over his shoulder, he could ram into him fast enough to make Gus grip the sheets and shudder. He’d also learned how much Gus loved to be inside of Bruno’s mouth, thrusting up into his throat in a way that made Bruno feel sweaty and wrecked and aching with need.

But Gus was on top tonight. And after their conversation, Gus made a silent vow to give Bruno the pounding of a lifetime. “Against the wall?” he asked with a mischievous grin.

“Seems appropriate,” Bruno smirked.

Bruno led the way, but Gus followed close behind and surprised him, spinning him around and pinning him with a fist in his ruana.

Bruno’s eyes went wide and his breath quickened. Gus’s endurance had improved, and he held onto Bruno with ease, tossing his crutch aside and bracing his weight against him as he pulled down Bruno’s pants. Bruno’s cock was already standing at attention.

“Already hard for me,” Gus growled as he kneed Bruno’s thighs apart. “You’re pathetic.”

“Ohh dios mio San Juan de la Cruz,” Bruno murmured as Gus held onto the stability bar with one hand and split Bruno open with the other.

“You scrawny little rat,” Gus spat at him, and Bruno gave a sinful mewl in response and lifted his leg, his body begging Gus to take him.

As usual, Bruno shut his eyes the moment Gus thrust inside of him, keeping them closed and moaning softly to himself as Gus rode him and brought him to the verge of insanity.

“Open your eyes for me,” said Gus when Bruno was on the edge, but it came out as less of a command, more of a plea. He wanted Bruno to look at him, to see him as he was, and not fantasize about the cocky teenager that everyone had wanted. He was a person no one wanted now. Almost no one, he thought hopefully.

Bruno, always so overwhelmed when they had sex like this, fluttered his lids open and met Gus’s gaze. He took in the green eyes he’d pictured so many times over the last four decades, the eyes that had been burned into the darkest, most private parts of his brain for so long, the eyes that were always watching him from Gus’s permanent place in Bruno’s imagination. With his eyes open, vulnerable and wrapped around this man he’d known his entire life, Bruno couldn’t stem the full force of his feelings. “I love you,” he blurted out.

Gus was taken off guard, but only for a moment. He knew he felt the same way; he’d known it for weeks. Probably, in some ways, for years. “I love you too,” he breathed. He thrust into him deeper, joining their bodies more completely. “Come for me, Brunita.

Bruno wrapped his arms around him, murmuring I-love-you-I-love-you over and over until they both went limp.

“It’s been such a long time since someone’s told me they loved me,” Gus confessed afterwards as they held each other in bed making weepy declarations.

“I guess I’ll have to say it all the time to make up for it,” promised Bruno.

Gus adjusted his glasses. They were streaked with tears. “You’re really okay? You don’t resent me, after what I did to you when you were thirteen?”

“I’ve gotten past it, I promise,” Bruno assured him. “We don’t need to dissect every underlying detail as to how it affects our sex life. I meant what I said earlier. At this point in my life, I know what I like. You might have been the first person to give me a taste of it, but you weren’t the last.”

Gus brushed his fingers over Bruno’s lips, then followed the line he’d traced with a kiss. “You don’t know that,” he said. “Maybe I’ll be the last after all.”

“Maybe,” mused Bruno. “Maybe.”

#spicy saturday #gus oc #chepe oc #sp saturday #lethal amigos #bruno x oc smut #bruno madrigal smut #rough love au #precipice fic #not my ocs #lethal amigos au

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messwriting · 3 years

Text

Written for The Smut Pile Collab: Western AU | MASTERLIST HERE.

(i'm gonna make you) feel it

a.k.a. ✨ MAKKI’S ADVENTURE TIME ✨

Hanamaki “Big Tease” Takahiro x Female Reader

Rating: E for explicit | Don’t read this if under eighteen.

Warnings: Porn With Plot. Corruption Kink. Reader’s engaged to be married - a bride. Cheating. Highly inappropriate touching and dancing moves (that’s their job tho). Alcohol. Completely unresearched strippers industry. Lowkey exhibitionism. Fucking in a public space (private room). Fingering. Oral sex. SMUT: Doggy style over a sofa. Makki’s a little shit. Overuse of the word “cute” (for real, so many times omg).

Word count: ~7.3k

Note: Saint Dymphna and poor little me would like to introduce you all to the: 🤠 LAWBREAKERS MULTIVERSE 🤠

So, @dymphnasprose basically came at me with: “what about we take cowboys and make them skskskskskssk like magic mike style strippers” and thus was born the wicked duo newest adventure. We had a lot of fun (and a lot of panic) but here it is! Anyone asks why I’m doing two once again it’s also dymph’s fault and my sheer love for Iwaizumi. Also, dymph I love u and I’ve had lots of fun doing this little group project together🥺💕

That being said I’d also like to thanks @mixedhell who once again is a mage of dialogue and helped me several times; Tay, my love @deathcab4daddy, who helped beta part of this and also @xmyshya who was kind enough to beta this too <3

Makki’s songs: Cowboy Casanova (dymph’s courtesy) + Feel it

You can also read: IWAIZUMI | MATTSUN

Hanamaki is focused.

He surveys the screaming crowd inside the packed nightclub, sees the different groups occupying the big booths, the pretty decorations that never fail to distinguish his targets inside the dimly lit room.

Makki likes the meaning behind the different outfits and colors; the details merging into the allegory of remarkability, crafting the idea of uniqueness in their special day where screams of freedom swimming inside intoxicated heads build a tendency into wildness. In building lasting memories of a singlehood that doesn’t really exist anymore, into falling prey of sexy, large men who could take them into a one-time intoxicating memory that they can savor into the end of times.

Marriages can end, Makki thinks, but memories like the ones he makes are forever.

And tonight he has already found the one.

You must be the prettiest little thing he has seen in months, all beautifully clad in a sparkling white party dress, a sexy slit that shows the classical frilly garter adorning your thigh, with a golden black banner that announces for the whole world that you’re taken, soon to be married and enjoying your bachelorette party. It’s almost a challenge, really.

Great. That’s exactly how he likes it.

A brilliant and ridiculous white cowboy hat decorated to leave a tacky gown falling from your head is perched on the table where your small group sits, about eight women dressed in black and a beautiful entourage of bridesmaids if he ever saw one, but it’s you; cute, happy little you who blushed at the very first look at his partially naked torso when all Hanamaki did was pass by your table in his low cut jeans and open flannel shirt, a tilt of his cowboy hat made with half a mind to compliment the ladies until his eyes laid on you.

Your bright eyes had shined with embarrassment at your interest, chest filling with a renewed pull of air at the mere sight of him, a burning in your face that he could notice even in the poorly lit room, flashing lights giving him just the best of peeks -- your plush lips punished by the row of white teeth that closed around the soft muscle and pulled.

That was all he needed, the smallest of sights and still, the biggest of hints.

You were going to be his tonight. He’ll taint that pristine white and you’ll beg for his every move, he knows it just as he knows the women will scream for him as soon as he steps on the stage.

And, in fact, that will be sooner rather than later.

He’ll make sure of it.

The loud music is pulsing through his body, like waves crashing against his skin, his heart seemingly beating alongside the bass in deep, sexy strokes of the R&B music echoing through the club. The youngsters are doing their dance, a coordinated thing between the six newbies of the Club, while Makki and Mattsun wait by the side of the backdoor of the stage, ready to take their places in the next performance.

“Anyone in your sights yet?” Issei asks him as he passes him the bottle of water, which Takahiro puts on top of one of the structures before sending a small grin at the dark-haired man. They’ve been here for four years now, and they have joined the place together, looking to make a good buck while going to College. Stripping is fun, easy, and profitable when you’re young and hot and Matsukawa and Hanamaki are nothing else but.

“The one by the left, the table with the tacky cowboy hat and the golden balloons.”

“A fan of the work, I see.” Matsukawa pulls the curtain to the side just an inch, his eyes quickly surveying the space and centering on the acquired target. Makki knows exactly what he’s seeing, a table filled with a group of beautiful women and you in white shining over them all, the balloons above the wall seeming way more ridiculous once he knows about Makki’s plan of action.

One dick for life. Ha.

“Poor little thing doesn’t know what she’s in for tonight.” Mattsun’s grin is mischievous and all-knowing. Hanamaki has a type, it’s a running joke, but every good joke starts from a glimmer of truth. And in Makki’s case, it may as well be the truth itself.

“And that’s a sexy little group.”

“Yeah, it is. But you already have plans for tonight, don’t you. I’ve heard about it from Oikawa.”

Mattsun doesn’t answer, only a chuckle and a lopsided grin marking his face as he keeps studying the crowd.

The group performance wraps up quickly, being one without public interaction and soon enough Oikawa is making a show, threading between the public with his mic, hyping the crew out with just the right few words.

The lights start going down, softly casting the audience in shadows while the stage is tinged in bright colors before becoming red and by the time people’s eyes are focusing at the center again, Hanamaki and Matsukawa have taken their places.

The music starts to play, soft and calm, pulsing through the bodies of everyone as their eyes focus on the attractive duo in center stage. They’re not supposed to end up naked yet, that’s saved for the end, but as the choreography flows, sharp hip movements, thrusting motions like ocean waves crashing on rocky shores, still get women screaming at the top of their lungs enough for it all to merge with the song as if it’s part of the original bass.

Makki’s wearing a half-opened plaid flannel shirt with nothing under it, and he pops every remaining button open along to the song, the screams getting louder. His jeans are tight enough that every plane of muscle is noticeable, and his belt is black and striking, with a big, bull-shaped buckle. Later he’ll change his outfit to leather chaps and a vest, but right now, he’s more laid back. He looks good, he knows it, but the appreciation in your eyes as you coily drink his from from across the room is like a fucking golden star on his pride.

On top of his head, locked tight, it’s his pinched front cowboy hat. As Makki throws it in the air and catches in the middle of dancing, the screams engulf him from all sides.

But everything else is fading to the back of his mind as his eyes find yours in the dark, the appreciative, enthralled shine in them not lost to Makki. Could never be lost to Makki, who holds onto it as if it’s a life-line; You’re interested.

Ok, that’s good. But it’s also the basics.

Makki twirls and fall on the floor, hips fucking into nothing as the crowd goes insane. He kneels on stage, his shirt flying to the spectators; two women take hold of it, pulling in contrary directions until it rips.

Makki throws you a wink, every woman in that direction claiming it as theirs. You, however, shrug into yourself, eyes looking away as your hands tight their hold around the champagne glass they’re holding. You’re so cute, hands in front of your face as if that would keep you from staring. Makki feels himself glowing, growing excited at the mere sight of your scurrying eyes as they choose the floor instead of his body.

So fucking pure.

Takahiro wants to force you to look up and revel in the guilty desire he’s bound to find there. There’s no need to avoid him if he doesn’t charm you, that’s the beauty of soon-to-be brides. There’s such a deep will inside them to be faithful to the allegory of a husband they do not have yet, lost in a daydream of happiness in finding the one when they haven’t even tasted anything but. Makki eyes the golden balloons floating around the table while he dances -- one dick forever.

Poor little thing. He can’t let that happen, can he?

When Makki hops off the stage and walks over to your table between deafening screamings and pleads for him to take them, instead, his hand closes around your dainty little one, adorned with pretty french nails and just a single golden ring and even the soft, smooth skin of your hand against his rugged palm is a thrill inside his veins.

Your eyes are shining, nervousness sweeping from them as they lock with his. Hanamaki tries to be lowkey, giving you a reassuring smile supposed to be nice, to be trusting -- a complete disconnect of the way his guts stirs in the excitement of your touch.

He lowers his lips to your ears, pretends the way his nose runs over the shell is a mere accident. “Let’s go for a ride, sweetheart.”

Your lips fall open by the side of his face and Makki can feel the way you suck a breath, a little gasp ruining your efforts when he lets his lips brush against your jaw. Another accident, whoops. He’s such a careless boy, isn’t he?

Your teeth punish your bottom lip as your eyes seem to look anywhere but him, trembling hands as you seem half-way into telling him no. Makki can't have that, though. He brings his face to look deep in your eyes, a lopsided smile he can manoeuvre into being just the right amount of kind by now.

"You're not gonna let me go up there alone, will you?" He almost pouts, big hands finding their way on your arms in up and down motions that drag just the right amount of trembles from you for him to know he's winning. "There's no fun without you, sweet girl."

He dips his lips onto the shell of your ear once again, just in time to hide his mischief. "You're the star of the show. I'm just your ride."

That seems to make you giggle and Makki uses that to bring his grin into your view, palms sliding down your arms to clasp your hands and - finally - guide you up with him.

One thing Makki knows is that he likes his brides sweet.

Pliant.

And as you get up and follow him quietly and sheepish, clumsy tripping over yourself when some of your bridesmaids erupt in cheers, he knows he is right once again -- you’re just his type.

Thing is, Makki doesn’t waste time. He makes you twirl in your high heels just to have you falling in his arms, he picks you up without effort, a little gasp breaching your lips as your hands plant against his chest.

Makki just has to grin at the way in which you close your palms and retreat them back to yourself, quick, burning up in a beautiful, delicious expression of shame. Fuck, he wants to make you beg.

When he’s at the stage, he drops you on your feet with enough aggression to get you to slide straight to the floor, unsteady knees opening under you until your ass is planted on the stage.

Makki thinks your open mouthed expression, little breaths breaking through your lips as your anxious eyes stare up at him, have to be the best thing he’s seen in a while. And he’s just starting.

He bends at the waist, his hands to reach your knees and push them open, your bright little white dress sliding up so much he can steal a peek at your fancy underwear.

Such a vixen, aren’t you? All wrapped in lace.

Makki lets himself fall on top of you and you gasp, even as he stays holding himself in a plank, not one bit of skin touching yours. The song is pumping, slow and sexy even if the screams sound louder in the close space. He twists his hips, the rolling motion has them right between your juicy thighs. You’re forced to keep them wide open and the way in which you look mortified just may be what ends him.

Makki drops his knees in the ground, lets the screams wash over him as he drags his hips against your center, soft, then hard. His hands by the side of your head, his toned chest right in front of your face. He knows by the way his skin burns that you’re staring at him -- good, he wants to be the center of all your attention tonight.

Your hands are in front of yourself as if you’re afraid at your own excitement, eager eyes looking for his in a wirlwind of emotions and it makes his fucking skin erupt with goosebumps that the most noticiable one is desire.

Oh, Makki’s going to wreck you. The song turns frantic just as he comes to slide over your body, nose trailing along your collarbone and chest, teeth nipping at your clothes as if he would prefer to be doing it to your skin instead, and he feels the way your shame almost consumes you, body shaking as he finally reaches destination: right above your beautiful open thighs, so close he can almost taste you.

Unfortunately, it doesn't last. And Makki is forced by the choreography to climb back up your body even as he lets his hands linger a bit too close to your clothed center, every woman around screaming as if they can read his mind.

He gets back up and kneels between your open legs, thrusting in time with the music as if he’s actually still thinking about choreography and not in doing this to you later. You’re growing more embarrassed by the moment, your whole body burning and tense, but responsive to his movements and, better yet, his smiles.

His body is used to the motions, to swirling and grinding and thrusting in a wave motion, crashing over your hips time and time again until your lips fall open, and he knows he hit the jackpot.

Makki holds himself in a plank again, his skin turning clammy with the exertion, but he angles his crotch just right and has you singing a groan for him again -- then turning bright with shame in sequence.

Such a precious little thing indeed.

The ground choreo ends way too soon for Makki’s wishes, but he’s soothed by the way in which you let yourself be picked up, hands clinging to his shoulders with such a fierce hold he almost wants to test it out. He throws you up for a moment, relishes in your nails at his back, and his forearms hold you by the underside of your knee, closing on your hips.

And that makes your pretty little clothed cunt roll right against his semi-hard on. There’s a ripping sound, probably your slit getting wider to acomodate your open legs and thus, him.

Lovely.

Makki rolls his hips, right against your center once, and the crowd erupts in screams just as he starts mimicking fucking you standing. A beautiful option he saves in the back of his mind for later.

You let out a yelp, then proceed to try and hide your head against his neck, your pretty mouth gliding against his skin gives him such a high he almost loses the tempo of the song. He tells you to hold on and plants his hands on your bare ass, lifting you until he can have you in front of his face, a bit uncomfortable move but one that has every single woman in the club wet -- it’s in the air by now, and he can smell it. The idea makes his skin prickle, your hands holding his hair for dear life as if you’re afraid to fall, but your clothed cunt is right there, and he can’t pass the opportunity to steal a little touch as he pretends your hold is what pushes his head flush against your pussy.

You let out a beautiful sound almost in time with the song, and he is letting you fall once again on his arms, the smile on his lips the last nail on your pure coffin.

And unfortunately that means time’s up.

Makki lets your legs fall but holds you by your waist, depositing you on your own two feet at the stage and snickering at how your legs falter to hold you up on the high heels. So, as a gentleman, he takes your hand in his, helps you down the few steps on the stage, almost groans at how your hand seems to not want to let him go.

Before he leaves you, he pulls your hand into his lips, absolutely glowing at how breathless you look from the little action after he literally ravished you on stage. It physically pains him that he needs to pick up another bride into his show.

“See you later, pretty one.”

Under you, your legs are faltering, knees trembling like a newborn deer as you’re left alone to fend for yourself in the long path back to your table. Women congratulate you, screaming on your sides at the men who was almost fucking you dumb on stage and his friend, as they continue their show.

Your heart is beating in your ears, leaving you stupid and lost as you’re finally - finally - rescued by your friend, who brings you back to the table with loud congratulations and happy cheers. You feel your body sweating and throbbing, weirdly pulsating for something you can’t name.

Recognizing it would make it real and you cannot believe that after five years in a nice relationship with your only boyfriend and soon-to-be-husband, this is the first time you feel this wet.

You plop down on the closest seat, hands pressing to your chest as you try to both fan yourself and hide behind them. It proves, as expected, a hard task.

Your childhood friend has arrived and you hug her sideways, the short conversation you two exchange somehow lost to your poor heated brain as your eyes keep sliding to center once again at the stage.

The way he dances on stage feels overwhelming, this bride-to-be suffering way less touching and grinding than you, as “Big Tease Makki” stays standing up, his hands groping everywhere in his sculpted body as he dances to the sensual song, including the considerable bulge in his pants.

Something flashes and he turns his head your way so sharply you feel the need to melt further on the sofa, poorly hiding away as everyone around you cheers once again.

His eyes on you were burning a hot trail that slithers over your warm skin even in the dark, the ghost of a feeling of touch, erupting goosebumps along their way as they circle your neck and dip down your side, strutting over your chest to end by your face. Even in the distance, you swear you can feel the way those lips slip into an easy grin, satisfied at the way they have you breathless and weak by thought alone.

The idle chatting of your friends, excited and drunk are dulled by the pounding of your heart inside your chest, and you feel constricted by their presence on your sides at the booth, both ways filled with testimony to your inner turmoils-- can they see your sinful thoughts while they stay that close to you? Can the pounding of your heart and the heat in your face be felt at such a short distance?

The mere idea that they can pry inside your skull and discover the sinful dreams unfolding is too much for you right now, your spine shooting up while you balance yourself in your pretty heels and ask in a meek, nervous voice for the girls to let you pass. Some ask if you need help or if you’re going to the bathroom, and in both options it feels like you’re going to be flanked immediately, so you deny it and say you have to make a quick phone call about something you forgot to confirm and they all nod away, drunkenly squealing for you to be quick.

You’re almost free when one of your bridesmaids, your childhood friend, looks up at you with puzzled eyes.

“Hey, everything's okay?” She’s not drunk, only happily buzzed with sparkling wine, but her eyes are attentive when they lay on your face, worry etched in her brow as she looks for hints hidden in your dolled up face.

“Yeah, just need to take a breather.” You give her what you hope is a reassuring smile even as sweat drips down your back, but the place is dark and loud and she lets you go without much prodding. The place is full and swarming with women, groups of men present but fewer, waiters clad in skimpy clothing as they work the tables full of drinks, shots and champagne. Some are flirtatious, charming smiles along with muscles as they sweep women off their feet and leave their wallets thinner; others are pretty serious, and the mysterious aura has their pull, the ecstasy of conquest working as an aphrodisiac.

You pull past the bodies, feeling a bit light headed as your chest pounds and the booze traverse your body, clumsy steps on too-high-heels you’re not used to, but your bridesmaids had pushed you to wear along with screams to live a little and say hello to the last night before you’re a proper married lady. You’ve never really felt the weight of those words as the last two days, tasting for the first time the sweetness of night as you’ve never before.

If brown, bored eyes make a appearance in your mind as you flee to the corridor leading to the private rooms and women’s bathroom, you’re quick to stop the train of thought before it leads down a muscular torso clad in a tight jeans with a firm ass and a hot, big cock that humped against you in every opportunity while he took you to the stage.

A drop makes it way past your cunt lips to stain your fancy underwear and you groan, ashamed. You’ve never felt this unbecoming need before, the arousal so thick your breasts seem to be heavy against your ribcage, dress feeling too tight on your heated, oversensitive skin.

You’re reaching the curve left that will take you to the bathroom when big hands engulf your frame, palm over your mouth and you’re pulled inside one of the private rooms, too breathless to even make a sound.

“Howdy,” his voice sounds right by your ear, as you’re caged against a burly body and the closed, probably sound-proof door. “Got a fugitive here.”

“Uhh, sir, I--”

“Sir?” He laughs, head thrown back prettily as you drink the arch of his throat. “Oh my god, call me Makki, pretty one.”

The petname makes you flush, tongue heavy and clumsy in your mouth around words. “Uh… Makki, I’m sorry but I, ah…” You fumble with your hands, avoiding touching him, eyes downcast as you try to also avoid even looking at him. It’s too much, he seems everywhere.

“You’re engaged? I can see that, love. You have a banner right there.” He sounds so nice, mischief and boyish glee as he stands way too close to you.

“Then you understand…”

“I understand this is your last night of freedom, right? The last chance for you to be bad,” He breathes against your jaw as he noses along your skin to your ear, his cowboy hat gliding softly against the side of your face, “To be wild.”

Your mouth opens and closes but not a single sound comes out, your brain completely lost to the science of mixing letters into words. All you can think about is how your blood seems to be galloping in your veins, the pounding of your heart so oppressingly loud the beat of the song seems to mimic it and not the contrary.

You are lost to everything but the unbelievable feeling of painful arousal, so sharp and deep your bones seem to be melting out of their places and dripping into the outside by your cunt.

“But,” Leaves your lips dumbly and Makki’s fingers silence you, his lips so close you can taste his every exhale, the flap of his hat managing to blind your vision to anything past his face.

“You’re going to be married to the exact same man forever, sweetheart. You can let go one night. One night for you to feel good.” Makki licks at your throat and your lips fall open with a shameless moan as you burn with shame. “Has he ever made you feel this hot, sweetie? Hm? Have you ever even felt like this? It’s your last chance tonight, right? Don’t lose it.”

Makki’s hands massage their way down your sides, grabbing at the flesh of your hips, brushing your ass, and you’re dead silent as you drool away in your panties. Unable to think, unable to speak, embarrassment clogging your throat together with an impossible, unacceptable yes.

“C’mon, sweetie, let me take care of you.” It’s a plea, and he knows your chest will hurt with the same need that is in his tone. “Just this one time, so you can know what it feels like… how great it can be.”

“One time.” He promises you, earnest eyes boring into yours and, dumbly, enchanted, you nod… and agree.

Well, Makki ain’t waiting around for you to change your mind.

His hands loop around your thighs immediately, pressing you against the door until he can press his body between your open legs. The slit of your dress gives in just the little bit needed to allow his hips to make their way against your core, his lips busying themselves with planting kisses along the arch of your neck, teeth nibbling at the lobe of your ear, tongue gliding over the shell.

His breathing is soft, but so close it feels like it engulfs the room, slithering inside your head and scrambling your thoughts. His crotch presses against your center enough to hold you high and open, one of his hands relieved of their place as it climbs your side and closes around your jaw, angling your head back until you’re trapped between his face and his chest.

You shudder, eyes fluttering closed as if you cannot hold them open, and Makki feels his skin prickling, warmth spreading from his limbs to his chest and down his hips to center themselves at his burning length. You’re such a little vixen, all big eyes and open mouthed staring at him while he has hardly done anything.

He can barely wait to see how you’ll burn when he buries his face in your pussy.

Right now, though, Makki reigns in his excitement, fingers caressing your cheeks until your pretty eyes open up again, dazed. There’s just something about getting pretty little things like you to yield, to breathe out as his lips plant themselves carefully, softly, against your cheek, then the line of your jaw, your chin and your nose.

Every little kiss has you getting restless, trembling in his arms while your hands close around his shoulders, painful little welts that he loves to see. Such desperation.

It’s really the best.

His lips press against the corner of your wobbling plush lips and you shudder, but they push it back, and when Makki finally decides to kiss you, you’re opening your mouth in your eagerness, tongue lapping awkwardly at his lips as he chuckles and decides it’s time to stop playing.

When he kisses you then, you gasp, precious little sound leaving you as if you had no idea you could even make it, and then you’re melting against him, pressing against his chest as his mouth works its wonders on yours, tongue circling, searching, sucking. He nips at your lips, steals all the short bits of breath from your lungs until you’re writing against him, pressing sinful hips against his crotch in such a desperate way it’s endearing.

The hand on your thigh dips further under your dress, finds the plush meat of your ass and engulf it in its palm, delighted at how inexistent is the small little thing you’re wearing and how fucking delicious it feels. His fingers dig into your bottom until you break the kiss to gasp at how easily he can slip his long indicator from your ass to your pussy.

It’s his time to lose his air at how fucking wet you are, ruined fancy panties and moist thighs.

“Oh god, look at that. Little bride is so wet for this cowboy.”

You make a face, lips pursing in an awkward turn and coily shifting to look down, appraising looks on his chiseled chest. “Okay this one was bad!” Makki offers with an easy smile, the hand on your neck dipping into your breasts, palms pressing on your chest as he turns his focus on circling the hard nipple through your clothes, closing around the plush meat until your offending honest little lips part once again to him. He can see in the turbilion of your eyes how you’re still swirling against guilt, holding back from him.

“But can you blame me? Look at me.” He makes a mention with his head towards the big bulge straining his tight jeans, which have you unconsciously looking down, his hand sliding over your jaw to tilt your head up to meet his eyes, charming, easy-going smile in his lips. “Look at you.”

He rolls his hips once against your sex, feels the blistering heat even through layers of clothes but he’s done this enough to know exactly where to aim, having a moan escaping through the tight cage of your lips before you can hold everything else in by the lock of your teeth.

He can’t have that, though. He thrives on applause after all.

“Now, beautiful, I’ll need you to stop that right there.” His fingers dip under you to slide against the soiled fabric clinging to your folds and you all but tense, melting after as if you cannot conceive how good is his mere touch. “I want to hear you, c’mon.” Your eyes drop on his in hurt, but you free your bottom lip, mouth imediatelly falling open around a groan as Makki presses aimless around the entrance of your sex. Damn, Makki likes this.

“Yes, like that. You’re such a good girl, aren’t you?” His cock is straining against his boxers already, length rolling in perfect aimed strokes over the apex of your sex as his fingers thread on the outline of your beautiful cunt and when he dips inside a single fingertip, your sex and hands cling to him, all the beautiful curves of your body against his and he just-- He wants to see.

“Ok, dinner time!” Makki chuckles as he brings his hands once again to hold you firmly by your thighs, fingers spread enough to keep rolling against the edges of your cunt.

“Wha-What?” You give a charming yelp at the way he holds you effortlessly while abandoning the door to walk over to the couch. It’s just a cheap upholstered thing in front of the circular stage with the pole hanging from the ceiling, but it’s just the perfect length for what he needs.

He lets you fall, open and disheveled over it, legs spread to show the lace he saw earlier, stained and soiled after just a bit of makeout.

“You’re so cute.” It’s mockingly, really; meant to be a jab at how you’re so hazed and undone by just a few moves of his, but the way in which your doe eyes thread up to him, shiny and unfocussed; your hands closing around your frame as a hand plants in front of your breasts is just… cute. There’s no other word. You’re just a cute little thing and he wants your demise.

Makki groans and pulls you to the edge of the sofa by your legs, easily dropping between your thighs in a wave move, face planting itself on your breasts to suck at sweaty clothes, teeth pulling the fabric down until your nipples peek through and he sucks them inside his mouth, too.

You tremble so easily, even worse when he abandons it to nose his way down your body tightly clad in the white dress, kisses over your belly until he’s nosing at your clothed cunt, open mouth kisses adding to the moistness in your poor underwear.

“Delicious.” Makki says for no reason other than to state his thoughts, tongue rolling over the clothed slit as if its skin, reveling in how your poor legs start to shake, needing the aid from his hands spreading them to finally stop. “Tell me, honey, have your fiancé ever fucked you good? Hm?”

The mention makes you stiff, head pressing to the side of the sofa as if you’re fighting a battle inside your own mind, triggered by the piece of trivia question.

“I bet he hasn’t,” Makki laughs, nosing at your pussy with such pressure his whole face gets smeared in your juices. “Is he your first boyfriend? Tell me more.”

“I--how do you--” You stutter through bitten lips, truth tipping out once he easily spreads you open with his thumbs on each side. “Yes.”

“What a waste, such a wet fucking pussy and not one single effort from your hubby to-” Makki pulls your underwear aside, tongue lolling out to lick a long strip from your entrance to your clit, “lick”, once, it”, twice, “clean.” and thrice.

You let out a cute little noise and he gets impatient, pulling the lace at the side with enough force it rips easily under his hand. Your indignant noise doesn’t even sound right, lost in a moan at the way he closes his lips around your clit and brings his tongue to play with it fast. His hand presses harder on the skin of your thighs, leaving you open as a present, ripe and wide.

If Makki says he eats pussy as a fucking meal, it’s not out of vanity. He doesn’t like to stroke his own ego, it’s just the plain truth. He works his tongue around your cunt, licks at your puffy lips, slither his way over the labia, gathers all the dripping …. and lets it drip over your pussy, just to suck it up and spit on it, after all he never understood the whole don’t spit on the plate you eat. If it’s pussy, he’s sure it’s the fucking other way around.

You’re writhing and moving around, a symphony of gasps and moans fighting their way past your tight lips. Makki doesn’t mind. As he brings his thumbs to stroke up and down the sides of your cunt, he knows you’ll be screaming in no time. It’s just too much. It’s clear you’ve never had anything like this just by the frantic way you’re humping his face, hands grabbing at anything and everything they can, unable to hold on. His only shame is how busy his mouth is, unable to tease his way into the pure debauchery you’re demonstrating.

He pauses a bit to angle himself back, eyes trained at your pussy, dripping fucking wet all over the dress and the sofa. His thumbs spread at the sides of your entrance, pull it open just to see it blink and gap, begging for his cock without a word leaving your lips. Shit. His cock is straining against the tight jeans in such a painful way he has to let one hand go, open his button and fly, let the poor warrior fight its way past the band of his calvin kleins.

Then he’s back at his work, one thumb keeping you open as his hand returns to plunge his indicator inside slowly. Makki’s mouth almost falls open at the bewitching way your walls give in, letting him sink inside the velvety wet inside with ease. You’re clenching around him, groaning above and begging below, so he lets a second one inside at the retreat and advance of his wrist.

“Have your little husband ever made you feel like this, huh? Have he eaten this little pussy so good you make a mess?”

“Jesus Christ!” You moan above and Makki laughs. He loves this. Loves the little religious bout he gets from tight little brides when they actually taste heaven amidst sin. You try to ride his fingers, but he presses the back of your knees higher, and you let out a breathless “God!” at the new angle.

Then he starts the real game, fingers moving around your heat in search of a specific spot he finds with little prodding and then abuses until you’re begging.

“Oh my god! I, fuck--Jesus!”

“Yes, just like that sweetheart. If you beg for me real pretty I’ll give you what you want.” He says as his fingers keep plunging in and out of your heat in an upwards motion, strong but slow, dragging the feeling of his thick digits inside your walls. It’s close, he can feel it in the way you’re swelling around him, restless kicking out legs and praying for God as if it isn’t Makki who’s giving you all this.

“My name, sweetie. Beg for it, c’mon. Say it out very loud, how you want my cock to fuck you nice and hard as you’ve never had before, huh? Just--”

“Fuck!”

“Just tell me more how you had no idea it could be so good and how you need me to show you how fucking good a man can actually fuck.”

“Oh my god,” you all but yelp, but then sighs a, “yes, please.”

“Hmmm? Couldn’t hear you.”

“Oh fuck, Makki please fuck me!” There’s a breathless, outstandly maniac laugh breaching your lips after that, a flow of quick words falling from your lips as a train of thought, “Jesus I’ve never felt like this, oh my god I think I’ll actually die without--”

“There we go!” Makki laughs, voice loud as he stops everything to get up and once again bends down to pick you up.

“Wha--Wait!” You squeak, body tense and trembling at the loss as Makki only kisses around your tearstained face and makes his way around the upholstered couch. “Makki!” That has to be the needier, whinier tone he has ever heard his name in.

And he loves it.

He lets you slide through his hands, bends you over the back of the couch, your ripped panties sliding to the floor by one of your legs. One of Makki’s hands descends hard on your ass with a loud slap, your lips opening around a beautiful moan. The other does the same, both circling and massing the plump flesh as your ass and pussy blinks seductively at him.

That does it. Makki curses as he pulls his pants and underwear down, his hard, bloody-red cock slapping up against his navel; he closes his hand around it to slap it between the crack of your pretty behind and feels everything in him tingling at how wanton you sound in your moan, angling your back so that your ass can climb higher, head against the seat cushions.

“Yes, baby, just like that.” Makki praises you as he tilts his cockhead on your slit, up and down, up and down against your clit, labia and entrance. It’s absolutely delicious how you clench to try and hold his cockhead, but it slips up to bob against your ass. “Ops, let’s try again.”

He does the same thing a second time but then you groan and whine once again, “Makki, please!”

Well, fuck, who’s he to deny you, right?

He pats your ass and supports his weight at the back of his feet, cockhead right against the beautiful hole weeping for him and, carefully, slowly, deliciously starts dipping inside. Your pussy sucks him in as a vice, muscle clenching and releasing; loud, satisfacted moans in your lips. It’s almost choking to him that the loud noise in the room comes from him, too, mouth falling open in a growl.

When his hips are nested against your ass, Makki has the urge to kiss you but squatches it down in favor of holding you strongly and fucking you throughly. Motioning himself in waves as he had on the stage, his cock slides in and out of you with such delicious, timed precision he thinks you’ll come twice on him before he’s done.

Your tight heat is velvety wet around him, squelching sounds sinful in the room as he grinds his hips against your ass, cockhead nestled against the firm pressure of your cervix. There’s babbles tipping from your lips, as if your mind has broken and you have to pronounce your mess of thoughts out loud. It’s cute.

Maybe he'd appreciate it more if his mind wasn't falling him also; his whole body feels constricted, strained, hips rolling in long, deep, strong strokes that make his cock into a pleasure antena, broadcasting to his whole being, blistering heat spreading through his veins and turning sharp at his spine and to start pooling at his balls.

He is about to dip his hand to your clit and end you when your body seizes, legs kicking while dangling from the backrest of the couch and your pussy starts creaming hard like a vice around his cock.

“Fuck!” He groans, tensing his whole body before you bring him over with you, hand slithering to hold the base of his cock, hard. Then he laughs, no breath to spare. “Wow, baby, no heads up? Now you gonna have to give me one more, I’m not done with you yet.”

You let out an indignant groan, but rest boneless under him. Makki retreats his hips from your snug grip and starts pistoning his way inside your heat, unforgiving even as you yelp and whine, oversensitivity probably making you burn. Makki lets one of his hands let go of your hips and fall hard on your ass, in time to feel the way your pussy grips at him, yelp turning into a moan. Makki lets his hands slide down the side and curve his wrist so your fingers can find your clit, rubbing him frantically as he angles his hips just right, every wave of his body aimed against your precious spot.

“Yup,” Makki groans, growing exhausted. “Just like this.”

Your eyes snap open, hands frantically reaching to hold on anything by them as you look back at Makki with shiny, big, dazed eyes in absolute terror at the fact you are, indeed, going to keep cumming on his dick, second orgasm hitting you so hard and fast Makki actually tips over with you, the pressure in his balls releasing in one blissful climax at the incessant contracting of your cunt and the wave of your orgasm gushing out of your pussy in the closest thing to a squirt he could pull out of you amidst a unending orgasm.

Makki stays inside you as he rides his high, grinding his hips even as you cry from the oversensitivity. When he pulls out, he’s careful with the condom and also has half a mind to hold your body, throwing the used thing somewhere to be cleaned after. Almost as if perceiving the breach, his cellphone starts ringing somewhere, loud as fuck in the closed room.

“Damn, fuck,” Makki scrambles to the sound, his legs almost giving out under him and his fingers so numb it takes three tries to actually accept the call. Which he didn’t read who from.

“MAKKI! WHERE ARE YOU, WE’RE STARTING IN FIVE.” Iwaizumi nags at him, stern and loud, piercing through his haze enough to make his brain drop some adrenaline into his bloodstream, suddenly alert and kicking, muscles straining but holding as he pulls his underwear and jeans quick over his ass and searches for his cowboy hat in time to dip and run to the presentation.

“Sorry baby, gotta go.” He saunters to you, plants a kiss on your sweaty head and another at your swollen lips and smiles the same sinful smile that ended up bringing you here, along with a tilt of his cowboy hat. “Duty calls.”

#hanamaki x reader #hanamaki smut #hanamaki takahiro smut #haikyuu smut #thesmutpilecollab

352 notes · View notes

duskamethyst · 4 years

Text

attitude.

a/n: i had to edit this so many times for a month.

word count: 2.1k

genre: smut, nsfw

warnings: dubcon kinda, daddy kink, masturbation, semi public, slight exhibitionism, slight sexism, degradation, slight dacryphilia, angry fucking

pairing: ukai x f!reader

you open the door to the shop, greeted by the guy you knew too well, only that his whole face is hidden behind the newspaper, obvious that he is smoking a cigarette from the smell that stings your nose and the smoke around him. you aren’t having the best of days so naturally, you begin to rant about the hard ass professor from your class. you glance at your boyfriend mid-rant, who still has his nose stuck on the article.

“he didn’t like my proposal and he had the audacity to say some misogynistic shit like, the amount of makeup i wore to class and all that shit.” you continue, but the other party only hums in response.

“like, what does that have to do with my work? he probably thinks that i’m some kind of a bimbo. it’s ridiculous– keishin, are you even listening to me?”

ukai puts out his cigarette on the ashtray and flipped through the paper and nods, “yeah, i hear you.”

“well, you could’ve said something to make me feel better.” you grunt, crossing your arms across your chest as your eyes glare through the papers in search of ukai’s face as if you have the ability to see through objects.

“don’t look at me like that.” he replies all too knowingly though not even bothering to spare you a glace ever since you step inside his store.

“then what did i say?” it’s stupid to ask such question. you’re willing to bet that he isn’t actually listening nor interested to partake in the conversation. it happened sometimes and it drives you nuts and upset altogether.

ukai shrugs and turns the next page, “something about your professor.”

“…..and?” you tap your foot on the floor, starting to lack in patience.

“and, i’m just not good in multitasking so i couldn’t really listen to you while reading.”

“you fucking asshole,” you cuss. “i worked my ass off day and night, sometimes it doesn’t work out and when that happens, i really hoped that you would be there and cheer me up but now you just decided that you won’t even spare a few minutes to put down the paper and listen to me? hell, this happened a lot of times already. are you also stressed out like me? from sitting in front of the fucking register and smoking all day?”

“you probably should tell that to your professor instead,” he answers nonchalantly which annoys you even further. “jeez, and i probably should’ve dated someone my age.” he says lowly under his breath, but just enough for you to hear it clearly, even from behind the newspaper.

“excuse me?” you can’t believe what you heard, your fists clench on your sides and your breathing quickens. if the fact that he was not listening to you is the final straw, this takes the whole damn cake.

“yeah, maybe you could try. no one around your age would date you– not with this shitty job you have. at this point, i just wonder when the fuck are you gonna get cancer.” you snap. “at least i know there are tons of guys in my class that would want to date and fuck me. but nooo, i chose you instead. so, fuck you, keishin. just–fuck! you!”

as you are about to turn your heels around and storm off the store, ukai’s chair screeches as he stands up and grips your wrist from behind the counter, causing your body to yank backwards. ukai presses your cheeks together with his other free hand and tilts your head up to force you to look at him. his eyes are filled with ire– they are so cold and filled with rage at the same time, it’s actually sending chills down your spine.

“is it my fault that you have daddy issues? is it my fault that you like older men like me?” he sneers.

a pool of tears are slowly beginning to form in your eyes. it isn’t because you are remotely afraid but more of a natural reaction when you get furious.

“oh now you’re gonna cry?”

the thought of your black mascara running down your face together with your salty tears delights the man himself and you know this too well as you can see it in his face. giving in to that would be a mistake and you would hate to give him the pleasure.

“who taught you to speak to me like that?”

you turn your face away to the side to release from his grip and shoot him a murderous glare with all the courage instill in you, “you deserved it, asshole.”

ukai raises his brow, unsatisfied. his grip on your wrist tightens more as you struggle to pull away.

“let go.”

“i don’t think so,” he chuckles sardonically as he slips out from his apron. “that mouth is good for one thing and one thing only,” ukai turns to walk out from the register and stands intimidatingly tall in front of you, “and you know what that is.”

“well, i don’t know. like, eating, talking?” you blurt out. maybe if you annoy him more, he would let it go– seeing how he is not putting up with your shit earlier, you don’t think he would take this any further either.

however, he scoffs hearing your witty answer because you are actually pushing his buttons instead. “wrong answer, brat.”

ukai forces you down on your knees by the wrist and quickly unbuckles his belt, dropping down his jeans and boxers together at just the right length to only be able take out his cock. he grabs you by the hair and yanks you forward, “now, suck.”

“w-wait–”

“did i fucking stutter?” he warns as he tugs your hair tighter and it stings you a bit.

you think it is best to quickly oblige so you take his cock in your hands, your tongue teasingly licks the bead of precum on the tip. ukai breathes out a mixture of a frustrated and relieved groan at the tease, causing him to push your head closer while he bucks his hips forwards to shove more of his throbbing cock inside your mouth and causing you to gag a little as he hits the back of your throat.

“fuck– that’ll make you shut up. come on. show me what that pretty little mouth can do.” you bob your head faster along his cock, your hand fondles his balls while the other presses on his length to add pressure. he throws his head back and grips your hair tighter each time he lets out a breathy moan.

a lewd pop sound slips out from your mouth as he pulls his cock away. ukai’s lips curls into a grin as you look up at him with glassy eyes and your mascara a bit smudged. beautiful, he thought, just the way he likes it.

“get up, slut.”

you comply submissively, slowly getting back up and let him push and bend you against the counter. ukai lifts up your skirt, smirking as he sees a dark patch formed on your panties, he can’t help but to tease your wet slit by circling his fingers against the thin fabric.

you feel a wave of anticipation at the soft touch that your breathing begins to hitch. you glance at the clock on the wall, 20 more minutes before the shop closes. what are the odds that people will still come in at this hour?

“so fucking wet already. what am i gonna do with you?”

you want him to take you right there and then but you want him to stop at the same time, in fear that customers might still come into the shop and the thoughts are colliding with each other.

“kei– there’s still a few minutes left…” by the look of your face, your half-lidded eyes, ukai knows that you actually want this.

“and what about it?” he teases as he pulls your panties to the side and slips one finger inside your sloppy cunt. “wouldn’t you like it if people see you being fucked so hard like a little whore?” his finger is pushing in and out repetitively before putting in another finger and continues fingering you mercilessly.

having ukai to finger you like this in public feels so good– actually better than you imagine. the thought of not trying to get caught having your legs spread out for this man is giving you a rush of excitement as you try to hold your moans down your throat.

unfortunately, ukai is not happy about it and begins to rub his thumb on your clit. “let me hear you, baby. you didn’t seem to mind when you were shouting at me earlier.”

“i’m– ah– sorry..” you begin, between breaths.

“sorry what?” you shut your eyes close as your hips subconsciously buck towards his fingers, only to have him pull them out instantly. with his other hand, he presses your cheeks again and forces you to look at him.

“i’m sorry, daddy.” you plea.

“you look so pretty like this, princess. but your attitude displeased me.” he loves having control over all of you and keeping you grounded. “you wanna cum?”

“please.”

“do it yourself.” ukai steps back and watches you sit up on the counter with trembling legs and struggle to make yourself cum only from pumping your own fingers inside your wet cunt.

“you’re so wet, princess. i don’t think you need my cock for that.” he continues with prying eyes as he watches you with lustful eyes, one of his hand pumping his hard cock as your body arches and trembles in front of him, trying to push yourself to edge but with no avail.

“daddy, i want to cum.”

“and how am i supposed to do that?” he coos.

“please, daddy. i need your fat cock inside me.”

with one swift movement, ukai pulls down your panties and lifts one of your legs up to his shoulder, spreading your thighs apart. just as much as he likes to make you wait and begging for his thick cock, how could he not fuck you immediately? he can’t make himself wait either.

the shop begins to be filled by your restricted moans, careful not to let any possible people outside the shop to hear you as ukai fucks you shamelessly. you have your elbows to support your uncomfortable posture but you pay no mind to it as his cock fills every inch of you, reaching for the very place that your own fingers can’t. the both of you start to hear faint chatters from outside and you hope that they are just passing by.

however, ukai takes this chance to quicken his pace.

“let me hear you, baby. tell everyone– ah– how good daddy makes you feel.” he says between grunts while he starts to rub and press down your clit with his thumb.

“daddy, please, please, please–” you whisper, fists clenching to nothing, toes curling in your shoes. your eyes glances towards the door as the chatters and footsteps outside start to become gradually louder with each passing second.

“look at me,” ukai spanks your thigh, “wanna give them a show?”

“no..” you mutter through soft moans. though the thought of getting caught red handed is humiliating, it’s also arousing to you and your walls start to clench tighter around his cock.

“god, you’re getting tighter– you like that huh?” he hisses. “such a fucking slut.”

you can feel your juices dripping down his length as he adjusts his angle before giving you more intense thrusts that just hit the right places at the right pace. your legs are trembling and you can feel that you are getting closer to an orgasm and at this point, you can’t be bothered to worry anymore as your mouth lolls open to chant his name in a chorus.

you can feel that ukai is also getting close as you are as you feel him throbbing inside you. having his teeth nibbling on your thigh is enough to push you over the edge and your mouth opens in a silent scream as you cum hard. he smirks proudly and gives a couple more thrusts before he also winds up to a state of euphoria himself with his hot ropes of cum filling up your cunt.

panting, ukai waits for a second to finish before pulling himself out and puts on his pants before helping to adjust your clothes.

“you’re an idiot.” you push yourself off the counter and lightly punch him on the chest, earning a small chuckle from the male– the first time you heard today.

“call me that again and we are gonna have round two, brat.”

“coach!” an orange-haired boy beams as he opens the door, sending a jolt of surprise to the two of you. from the looks of his face, you manage to conclude that he didn’t hear or even had the slightest clue about what happened. you sigh in relief.

“what? shop’s closed!” ukai quickly says before ushering the poor boy out.

#ukai x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#keishin ukai #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #ukai keishin #hq #hq!!#haikyuu fic #haikyuu!! fic #fic rec haikyuu #haikyuu smut #haikyuu!! smut #ukai smut #hq!! smut #robinwrites #r; writes #tw; dubcon

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hardskz · 4 years

Text

bow down.

pairing — bang chan x genderneutral! reader

genre — modern royalty au, drama-ish, smut; sexual tension-ish, hand kink, brat tamer! chan, degradation, leg humping, humiliation

synopsis — you have eyes. prince bang chan is a whole snack. but you also have too high of an ego and can’t seem to accept that prince chan isn’t full of himself unlike the other dozen members of any royal family you’ve met before. alternatively, this is the disney channel movie ‘princess protection program’ but make it porn only.

note — this fic with a wc of 7k+ does not include any spoilers to the movie and you don’t even have to know what the movie is about you’ll get the gist as you read. ngl half of this is from one of my drafts from like 3 years ago and i never continued it so here i am turning it into filth hahahah (and i needed a fresh idea for brat tamer chan and hence why i think the sfw part is better written than the nsfw lmao) rip also pls accept this as the follower milestone gift and 1 year anniversary special :’)

“I’m pretty sure I asked for a puppy for my birthday — which was three months ago may I add — not for a new roommate?”

You look back and forth between Youngjae and the stranger sitting on the couch who is staring back at you with a curious expression. He looks around your age and you admit, his face isn’t the kind of face that makes you thank your parents that genetics did a decent job on you. It’s quite the opposite, actually.

His face is the type of face that makes you ask your parents why genetics didn’t do a better job on yours. Okay, you haven’t reached that stage of visual inferiority yet but that’s mainly because he is dressed in clothes that were trendy in the 15th century or something. The garments clinging to his skin look like a bad fusion of a suit (which college student wears a suit in their free time?) and the ridiculous costume the marching band at your former high school had worn whenever a football game was up. And those weird golden pins clipped on the blazer makes it seem as if he used to be in the marines or comes from a royal bloodline or—

Oh.

“Don’t mind my cousin, your Highness. (y/n)’s humor has always been questionable.” Youngjae sends you a glare before he puts on his sweetest smile — you know, the act he puts on whenever he tries to negotiate a bonus with his boss or woo his date — and opts to ignore your presence. “Anyway, since we are dealing with a more serious issue at hand than originally expected, we need to give you a makeover to—“

Before he gets to finish his sentence, you violently tug him away from the prince and despite Youngjae thrashing around and complaining, you manage to send the guest a forced smile and leave his vision. The moment you let go of Youngjae in the neighboring room, he readjusts his collar. “What? Couldn’t you have waited once I was done? Also, was it necessary to crinkle my collar this much?” he hisses but you get straight to the point.

“What is he doing here?”

“Uh, sitting on the couch?”

“That’s not what I mean.” you grit your teeth and land a punch on his arm. “What is he doing here?”

Youngjae looks over your shoulder, making sure that what he’s about to say next is only heard by you. “Prince Chan is,” he hesitates, unsure how to approach his topic. You know it’s taking up his last nerves to conclude a logical explanation as the tip of his tongue pokes out of the corner of his lips; a habit he has adapted ever since he stopped chewing on his bottom lip. “The predicament he’s in is worse than we expected. Well, his dad is partially at fault because he forgot to tell us this not-so-small critical detail that—“

“Youngjae, you’re rambling.”

“The point is.” he sighs and gives you a distressed look as if he already knows you’re not going to like the information at all. “We can’t send him to the family in Goyang, the place he was originally going to stay in. He’s one of the more extreme cases and the Board agreed that he had to live with one of the active combatants to ensure his safety.”

Silence engulfs the kitchen and you know he’s waiting for you to count two and two together.

“He’s going to live here,” you deadpan eventually and Youngjae nods in confirmation.

“I know you’re not very happy—“

“Not very happy is underwhelming.” You earn a flick against your forehead and yelp in pain as you over the spot he just hit. “Ow! I was just stating the truth!”

“Will you stop interrupting me? Geez. Yes, I know that you’re not happy at all. I know that you’re not a huge fan of the majority of our family working in this business. But please do me this one favor or so help me God— try to be nice to him for the next year.”

“He’s staying for a year?” you shriek and in the blink of an eye, Youngjae clamps your mouth shut.

“Can you keep it down?!” he whisper-yells, then retreats his hand and reverts to a conversational tone with a frown. “It’s just a year, okay? Y’know, just... say hi to him whenever you see him. Act civilized.”

You grimace as he stresses his last words like you didn’t know what human decency was. The longer you keep the petrified expression on your face, the more it turns into a staring contest between the two of you. Just as if you were each other’s reflection, you mimic his actions and vice versa. When Youngjae squints, you squint. When you shoot him a glare, he returns it. It all boils down to the final blink that Youngjae feints and you’re the first to look away.

“Okay fine! I’ll try to behave,” you mumble in defeat.

A satisfied smile makes its way on Youngjae’s lips. “It’s always nice negotiating with you.”

Being born into a family where the majority works for the royalty protection program (short: RPP or as you like to stylize it: argh-pee-pee), also known as the secret service for people with crowns on their heads, comes with many perks. In your eyes, this privilege comes with many, many downsides that aren’t worth the advantages. Sure, there is the one or other occasion where you can waltz around in fancy evening attire and attend an actual ball, but overall, it’s a pain in the ass.

Even though it’s prohibited to openly declare that you work for the RPP, the news always finds its way out. Usually, it takes approximately a week for pretty much half of the neighborhood to find out. And it certainly isn’t nice hearing whispers about your dad being that guy working for the program whenever you step out of your house, which is ultimately why you moved in with your cousin Youngjae. (Housing in your small town wasn’t really affordable for a dirt poor college student after all!)

Youngjae has always been your favorite cousin out of the... whatever number of cousins you have. But here’s the thing. He also works for the RPP.

However, somehow he managed to — and up to this day it still remains a mystery to you how on earth he did that — keep his job a secret. Especially with his tendency to dish out the worst kinds of secrets when he’s slightly tipsy. Frankly, you once considered printing out the image of a trophy for that remarkable feat.

With your dad and cousin both active in that business (because organization sounds too shady), it’s not the first time you meet a prince, so you already know how the entire thing works. The concept is quite simple; they get sent to a household but before they settle in and take on a fake identity until their circumstances have improved, they undergo a makeover. Most of the time, it ends up in the glow up you secretly crave but in Prince Chan’s case, you suppose he can’t get any more attractive.

Oh boy. You’re in for a ride.

You’re busy slicing bell peppers for the meal you were cooking when both your cousin and the prince enter the kitchen and Youngjae explicitly demands you to pay them attention. You don’t react immediately, but the moment he threatens to swipe the knife away from you, you perk up and set your desire to prepare your fried rice aside.

“(y/n), uh, hi? I’m Bang Chan and I’ll be your new housemate for a year. I hope we can get along.” Chan recites his introduction without any mistakes and earns a way too brotherly pat on the back from Youngjae, considering that they just met this morning. It’s truly amazing how fast Youngjae can get people to warm up to him.

Chan is stripped out of his weird clothes and instead, looks like he threw on the next best thing lying around in his room. Nonetheless, despite the seemingly little effort that was put into the outfit, it looks oddly good. The stylists didn’t seem to do much to his hair and just parted his bangs a little, so one could catch a slight glimpse of his forehead. It’s just a small detail, but you find yourself liking his current appearance much more appealing than before, though you’re pretty sure his clothes played a major part in your previous distaste.

“Remember Jihyo?” Youngjae interrupts your train of thought. “She’s Chan’s relative. And because I’m the genuine friend who loves to help her out, I decided to agree to this after she went down on her knees and begged me to let Chan live with us for a while—“

“I’m not interested in your blown up, fictional background stories, thank you very much.” you backtrack. “Wait. Did you say Jihyo? Seriously? Jihyo is his alibi?” Of course, you remember Jihyo. It’s quite difficult to forget her when Youngjae used to swoon about her at every hour of the day, back when they were a thing. Besides, she still stops by every few months.

“C’mon, you have to admit there is a similar vibe between them!”

You furrow your brows and inspect Chan a second time. Your gaze wanders back to Youngjae and then returns to Chan anew. It’s obvious that the latter is feeling as if he were up for auction and you can’t really blame him for feeling so uncomfortable. You’ve heard from a few friends that if looks could kill, you’d have the highest killing record.

There’s no similar vibe in your view, but for the sake of entertaining Youngjae’s thoughts: “He does seem similar to Jihyo.”

“Told ya. But back to more important matters,” Youngjae coughs and wraps his arm around your shoulder to pull you closer, but it somehow seems as if he’s opting to strangle you. “My duties are calling, so I won’t be back until late. You look like you could need some help with cooking, by the way. I’m sure Chan right here is willing to help you!”

“I’m almost done though—“ you choke when he tightens his embrace. By now, his arm is no longer hugging your shoulder, but rather crushing your throat.

“You look like you could need some help,” he repeats, this time with added urgency. “It’d be a great opportunity for you to bond since you’ll also share pretty much all classes at uni. Did you know, he has the same major as you! Besides, it’d be a very useful life experience for him if he helped you with cooking.”

“Of course, how fun!” you hiss, voice going an octave higher from the lack of oxygen. “I already said that I’m painfully delighted about that, so you can let me go now, Youngjae!”

A sneer and a jab in his arm later, Youngjae finally takes his leave. That nasty liar, leaving an hour earlier than his schedule stated. You know that silently cursing at him isn’t going to make your problems dissolve because that’d be a dream come true.

“Listen, let me get things straight.” you sigh, picking up the knife to resume chopping your vegetables. Youngjae may have ordered you to act civilized, but having eye contact with Chan when you’ve been starving for the past hour isn’t your priority. Food doesn’t make itself. “I don’t have any intention of getting close to you and I expect the same from you. Don’t step a foot into my room, don’t talk to me unless absolutely necessary, and don’t think I’ll run around and do your chores or cook your meals like one of your little servants. Just because you’re a prince doesn’t mean you’ll be treated like one under this roof.”

“We live in the 21st century, not the renaissance. Your idea of royal families is very dated.” Chan chuckles dryly.

“Baron Yoon Jeonghan from the seven islands is a stuck-up prick and out of touch with the world. It took him several visits to the slums, multiple voluntary hours at the kindergarten, and stripping him off his bank card to make him see reason,” you deadpan. Fuck Baron Jeonghan. Just thinking about your first and last encounter with that entitled douchebag almost makes you slice your finger instead of the bell pepper. “Duchess Yoo Shiah threw a hissy fit when she found out her clothes weren’t dry cleaned and bought from Zara instead of fucking Dior. The one who takes the cake when it comes to privilege is Princess Kim Min—”

“Everyone knows they are problematic,” Chan interjects. True, he has a point. There’s nobody out there who doesn’t know about Baron Jeonghan or Duchess Shiah but he’s also missing the entire point.

“And guess who gets stuck under the care of the RPP?” you raise a brow at him. He blanches at the realization as if he got struck with lightning. Perhaps you should give him more credit because he seems to own more brain cells than Baron Jeonghan. “Exactly. Everyone problematic.”

Chan’s jaw is clenched as he racks his brain to come up with a smart comeback. The sight of him stumbling on his words is nothing but pitiful, so you turn back to the cutting board and grab an onion to slice in half. “I’m not interested in your sob story, your Highness. I don’t care why you’re under the protection of the RPP. The only thing I care about is that you stay out of my business.”

“Chan is fine. No need for the title,” he sighs with a strain. “Perhaps I should’ve been more considerate with my first comment. Youngjae already told me about your… negative attitude towards the entire setup. It wasn’t my intention to anger you. Sorry.”

Well, that’s new. Out of the dozens of aristocrats you’ve met (and sadly also shared a house with back when you were 16 years old and still living with your dad), he’s the first to drop his title within five minutes for the sake of the disguise and apologize.

“We live under the same roof so we should get along with each other. If there’s something you need help with, just ask me, (y/n).”

“Thanks for the offer,” you reply nonchalantly because act civilized unless you want to suffer from a late-night sneak attack from Youngjae if he finds out. “But no thanks. I don’t need your help.”

You find yourself in need of help a few weeks later, right before the dreaded exam season.

“No. Forget it, Bam. I’m not going out clubbing with you tonight. In fact, I won’t do that anytime soon.” you let out an exasperated sigh as you try to break down to your friend that you prioritize your grades over his need of getting wasted.

“C’mon!” he whines so loudly that you have to put your phone farther away from your ear. “You’re not in that much stress yet! You have to make the most out of it before you drown in your exams.”

“Things are different for engineering students like, uh, me for example!” you hiss. “I fell behind and need to catch up. Ask Yugyeom or Changbin.”

“First of all, Yugyeom is always at the bar doing his job. And Changbin never picks up his phone. There’s nobody who’d dance with me!”

“You abandoned me at the bar for some chick the last time,” you deadpan. “I’m very sure you’ll find someone.”

Bambam finally gets the gist and gives up. “Fine then. Your loss. Have fun dying in numbers and variables instead of living in the moment. You’re going to regret it—”

You end the call and set your phone on mute before throwing it on the bed. Sometimes you wonder whether you were on drugs when you decided to major in engineering. The longer you stare at the jumble of numbers and letters — some of them in Greek too — the more you think your brain cells are decaying.

That’s how you find yourself in the kitchen, complaining at Youngjae’s expense and telling him how much you’d rather drown in bleach than subjecting yourself to Algebra II.

“You know there’s someone you can ask for help and he’s right here,” Youngjae drawls before chugging down the rest of his beer. If he’s going to be a victim to your temper tantrum about a major that you chose yourself, he might as well get a drink so he won’t go insane from your monologue about numbers and graphs and formulas he’s forgotten since he graduated from high school.

You gawk at him. “You? Are you hearing yourself? You almost failed maths. Twice!”

“Because I didn’t mean myself, dipshit,” he says blankly and his eyes flit over your shoulder, “Speaking of the devil. There comes the man of honor.”

You whip your head back to the door to see Chan enter confusedly. “Uh, did I interrupt something?”

“Yes.”

“No, we were just talking about you!”

You send Youngjae a death glare which he casually shrugs off. “(y/n) here is bitching about her Statistics I class and needs a tutor!”

“It’s actually Algebra II if you bothered to pay attention—”

“(y/n) needs a tutor!” Youngjae exclaims and nearly trips on his feet when he gets up from his chair. “Channie, I heard you’re good with numbers. Didn’t you get accepted into all Ivy Leagues in the States for all engineering programs?”

“You didn’t have to word it like that,” Chan laughs it off and nervously rubs the back of his head. He’s not denying it though.

“Obviously he would. He’s loaded and lives in a castle,” you mutter under your breath, but everyone catches it.

“Hey,” Youngjae warns. “That wasn’t necessary.”

“It’s alright,” Chan says casually. “I just wanted to get myself a snack. But if you have some questions, don’t hesitate to knock on my door. The offer still stands, y’know.” He digs through the cabinet until he finds two packs of the strawberry flavored Pocky knockoff that is 1) apparently his favorite thing to eat and 2) half the price of the Pocky version. He gives Youngjae a thumbs up before he returns to his room.

The moment Chan is out of sight, Youngjae whips his head to you, nostrils flaring. All that’s missing is steam coming out of his ears and his face running red and then he looks like the impetuous brother in every kids cartoon ever. “Really? He’s been staying with us for how long now? Four weeks? Five? Yet you’re still acting as if he murdered you in your dreams or something.”

“I don’t like him,” you state coldly. Youngjae looks like he’s about to rip his hair out.

“Look, I get that you don’t like me being active in this field of work, and I get that you have some hatred against the royal families. But you know you signed up for this when you decided to move in with me.” Youngjae pauses to get a breather and pop a new beer bottle open. “Besides, Chan isn’t like Baron Jeonghan or Duchess Shiah. I have eyes, (y/n), and I’ve seen you two avoiding each other as much as possible. And he doesn’t just laze around — he does the fucking chores and cooks dinner too! Chan is good, (y/n).”

The last words make you snap. “Good? Are you fucking serious? Because that’s why the press in his kingdom is depicting him as a tyrant who cares more about building his sick harem instead of helping the poor. And wasn’t he diagnosed for having anger management issues?!”

All the color leaves Youngjae’s face. This is obviously something you shouldn’t know. While he’s scrambling for words, you take the chance to add, “Dunno why you’re protecting him when he’s making headlines as a prince who can’t keep his dick in his pants.”

“Chan isn’t just a prince,” Youngjae says quietly. “He’s the crown prince.”

Your eyes widen at the confession. “What? Isn’t that even worse with that reputation he has?”

“It’s all propaganda,” he sighs and takes a swig, “The ministers are doing everything they can to finish him off. You see, Chan is the only child of the current king of the seven islands, and if he’s wiped out, it’ll be utter chaos. Chan’s smart and I admit, he used to have anger issues, but he’s worked on them. Though I guess he’s resorted to bottling up his feelings when push comes to pull. The point is, all the higher-ups don’t want him as their future king because they know that Chan is very much capable of pulling through with his own ideas and that doesn’t sit well with them. And a supposedly impulsive future king is the last thing anyone wants, hence why his people are eating up the news.”

“Oh.” you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel an ounce of remorse. However, it’s not the first time you’ve heard such stories.

“Yeah. Oh,” Youngjae mocks, “If that’s the main reason why you don’t want to talk to him, now you know better. He might have power, but he’s not a monster. And for the record, he got into all Ivy Leagues and elite schools all over the world through his intelligence, not his status.”

Although you can see it in his eyes that Youngjae is done with the heated discussion, he’s still waiting for you to say something. You frown. “So… you think he’s a good tutor?”

“He’s your only shot.” Youngjae says nonchalantly, then adds with a warning tone, “But remember: Act. Civilized. Oh, and don’t tell him I told you about his circumstances. It’s supposed to be confidential information.”

You roll your eyes. How the fuck hasn’t Youngjae been busted yet?

Nonetheless, you’re trudging to Chan’s door a few minutes later, your fat binder of incomprehensible math formulas and (Greek) letter heavy in your arm. Chan opens the door with surprise etched on his face after you knocked, but it settles to warmth when you begrudgingly ask him to help you understand Algebra II.

“Sorry, it’s a little messy here,” he chuckles airily once he lets you in. It’s not messy per se, just a few clothes piled up in a corner of the room and some books and messily written notes lying on his bed. Still, it’s by far cleaner than the pig stall that is Youngjae’s room (and yours when you’re having a very bad day).

Chan clears his desk and drags his other chair to the table before plopping down on it. “So, what’s the problem?” Instead of answering, you just shove a sheet of paper up his face. “Y’know, you can talk to me. If this is about earlier, it’s really alright. I’m not mad or anything,” he says with the same friendly tone you’ve been hearing ever since he moved in, yet he still takes the sheet from you. You watch his brows scrunch together the more he reads on, and you can already see the question forming in his mind.

“(y/n), you do know this is the basis to understand—”

“I was absent when the professor covered it and everyone I asked couldn’t quite explain it to me,” you respond before he can finish speaking out his thoughts. “All my friends were like—” you gesture with your hands, “—you just do this and that and then hope your hunch is right. Before you say it, yes I know that I don’t get the material of one entire unit and the exam is two weeks away.”

“Then let’s not waste any time,” Chan says before grabbing his iPad. You stare at him blankly as he writes something on his tablet. The last thing you expected from him was to accept it and try to hammer as much of missing information as he can into your brain, but then again, you’ve never seen him backtrack whenever Youngjae asks him something. Speaking of Youngjae, perhaps he is right. Chan does seem to know what he’s talking about.

“You have to subtract X first, then replace it with Y,” he explains as he circles said letters in different colors. By now, you’ve leaned closer to him to get a better view on what he’s writing (his handwriting isn’t the worst you’ve ever had to decode; refer to Youngjae who you’ve internally awarded with the worst handwriting of the decade).

Chan is exceptionally good at explaining. You feel like you’ve figured out a secret of the world that not even Pythagoras found out as you slowly understand what on Earth you are supposed to calculate with the formula. Chan is patient, always asking if you got it or if you needed another clarification, and takes the time to draw colorful graphs to visualize the jumble of numbers. His voice is pleasing to the ear too, soft and gentle to the point where you’ve blurred everything out except Chan. Chan’s voice. Chan’s hand.

You didn’t mean to stare, but with him always adding something new every five seconds as he goes on with his monologue, you can’t help but do so. His fingers aren’t long — that’ll always be courtesy of Hyunjin from Subway and yes, his very pretty hands might be the sole reason you only insist on going to that one specific Subway at the intersection next to KFC — but just one glance at Chan’s hand and you know that he’s strong.

He’s barely applying pressure to the pen, but you can see the veins slightly protruding. Chan’s sleeves are pushed back and if you move your head a bit, you’re more than certain that veins are bulging out from his forearms too. However, you don’t muster up the courage to do that because Chan will definitely notice and the last thing you want on your platter is to tell him that you were too busy checking out his arms instead of listening to him talk about Algebra II.

Eventually, Chan sets the pen down to stretch his hand. He says something, but you don’t pick up what exactly. Not that it’d matter much anyway since you’re too busy admiring his hand—

“(y/n), you there? I called out your name several times but you didn’t react.” Chan’s breath hitches and surprise flashes in his eyes for a split second when his gaze meets yours. You don’t understand his hesitation, but then horror bubbles in you once you realize that his hand is firmly gripping your chin and keeping your head pointed at his direction. The very same hand you’ve been staring at for God knows how long.

“I’m good. Just a little tired, but I’m good,” you stutter, though it comes out very breathlessly as if you just finished a marathon.

“Tired?” Chan echoes, concern settling into his features. “You should’ve said so, then I would’ve stopped talking. You need something?”

Now that you think about it, you’ve never got a close look at Chan. Sure, he’s handsome, the countless pictures of Google prove that he’s also too photogenic for his own good (goddamnit, why didn’t your parents make you just as photogenic?) but in person, he’s something else. His lips are plush and look very inviting to kiss, and the lower your eyes wander, the more you see a toned chest hidden underneath that damn shit that hugs him in all the right places.

Fine, his hands aren’t the only attractive thing about him. Then again, he’s a prince.

“I said I’m good.” you snap out of your thoughts and finally gather enough control over your nerves to tear his hand away. “And I caught everything you said.” Of course, you know that’s a blatant lie and he knows so too from the way he’s looking at you. That is until he quirks a brow.

“Okay, then what did I say before I called you?”

Your mouth feels dry. It’s almost as if he knew the reason for your distress. “I caught everything relevant to this,” you mutter, suddenly finding his curtains much more interesting. What an interesting design, maybe you should get yourself new curtains too—

“Then you wouldn’t mind solving these questions, right? Just so I can make sure that you got everything down.”

“Sure,” you reply because that’s the only thing you could say without hurting your ego and straining your vocal cords. Chan doesn’t comment any further and looks for some practice questions before sliding the iPad to you. Already the first question makes your head spin in disdain. Numbers? Variables? Never heard of them.

Chan is watching you like a hawk as you fiddle with the pen, unable to write down anything that makes remote sense. Feeling his eyes on you makes you feel helpless and you shift around in your seat. “What are you staring at?” you glare at him once you give up for good, and you just hope that your look is as intimidating as you pictured in your head.

“You’re definitely exhausted. You’re shaking,” Chan points out. Your eyes widen as you stare down and realize that your thighs are shaking, and it’s then and there when you realize that you’re feeling hot. Seems like Chan doesn’t realize that because the worry written on his face is genuine. “You say the exam’s in two weeks right? We can stop for today and work on this tomorrow. That is if you still want my help.”

You nod and add in a tiny voice, “Yes, please.”

You’re too busy ignoring the heat building between your thighs to notice the borderline feral sound that leaves Chan.

“And here I thought you had quality bonding time.” Youngjae gives a disappointed look. “You’re acting even colder towards him than before your exam meltdown. Your prick level can only stoop down so low.”

You ended up getting tutor lessons from Chan every day before the dreaded day of judgment: the exam in Algebra II. You spent more hours in his room than on your own if you were completely honest, and the results were fruitful. While you did manage to pass the exam with a fairly high score, the price you had to pay was hell.

It’s almost as if Chan caught up on your hand fixation. Sometimes he twirled the pen in his fingers, sometimes it was the simple bracelet dangling on his wrist. Just when you thought he had you figured out, he asks you if you’re alright, visibly oblivious to his effect on you. Such duality in a person should be illegal, you conclude. If you die from whiplash, you know who the perpetrator is.

“You were the one who pretty much pressured me into asking him for help,” you drawl.

“I had good intentions only! You can’t keep up the I-hate-royal-families-blah-blah mentality the entire time!” Youngjae wails before stuffing a handful of chips in his mouth.

“Watch me.” You internally cringe at the loud crunching sounds he’s making and add vigorously, “And stop chewing so loudly.”

“You’ll get around or so help me God—” he groans when his phone buzzes. He doesn’t spare a glance at the caller ID because there’s only one person who has set his ringtone to the baby shark song specifically for when he’s calling. “I gotta go, Jinyoung’s being a bitch again. Don’t murder somebody. Thanks.” You only watch him shuffle for his bag and grab a handful of chips before he’s out the door. Groaning, you clean up the mess he’s made on the table.

Just as you’re done wiping the crumbs off the surface, Chan pads into the room.

“Hey, can we talk?”

“I established right at the beginning that you should only talk to me when absolutely necessary.” you scowl, trying to walk past him.

“Well, this is important,” he urges and blocks the doorway, effectively stopping you from fleeing. “And I do deserve one conversation with you after I helped you out.”

“You offered on your own. That’s not the same as asking for a favor.” You successfully push your way past him, but in the next moment, he spins you around and pins you against the wall.

“We’re going to talk, whether you like it or not.” The sudden coldness of his tone has shivers running down your spine. Chan holds your wrist in an iron grip and if he clutched on any tighter, you wouldn’t put it past him to break your bones. Out of options, you comply and give him a curt nod before he lets go and takes a step back.

“I don’t understand you, (y/n). I genuinely thought you would put your prejudices aside but instead, all I get are mixed signals from you.”

It’s your turn to gawk. “Me? Mixed signals? What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about how you keep looking at me as if you want me to fuck your brains out.” If the color hasn’t drained from your face yet, it has now. Chan smiles wickedly at your horrified reaction but doesn’t stop there. “I’m talking about how you talk like you don’t want anything to do with me but act as if you’re begging for my attention.” He takes a step closer to you, and you wish you could morph with the wall. “I’m talking about how you keep staring at my hands and think I don’t notice it.” You wince when he rests his hands against the wall on each side of your face, leaning closer so that you can feel his breath on your lips. “So, you have a thing for my hands?” Bullseye.

“You’re so full of yourself. No wonder your ministers want to get rid of you,” you snap because you’d rather suffer from food poisoning than admitting that you want Chan’s fingers in you.

Something shifts within Chan. He gapes at you, clearly not expecting you to even know about the ministers. His demeanor darkens in a blink of an eye, and you feel like your legs are about to give up on you when you meet his eyes, black and feral.

“You’re playing with fire. Don’t anger me,” he warns, voice low and rough.

“So it’s true that you resorted to bottling up your feelings, your Highness?” you cock your head to the side. Chan clenches his jaw at the mention of his title, struggling to keep his anger in check. You laugh through your nose, then grab one of his hands and force it away from the wall. If he already knows that you’re thirsting after him, might as well go for it. “It’s funny how your ministers aren’t able to string you around like a puppet yet here you are, unable to do anything against a commoner. You know you have nice hands and you know my weakness and yet, you’re not using them on me.” He gulps when you fumble with his fingers.

And then he understands.

“Unless I misread the situation,” he says darkly, though you distinguish the slight tremor his voice carries. “Do you really want this? I’m not going to go easy on you.” Chan is dead serious, judging by the way he’s looking at you expectantly.

“The safe word is petunia.” You don’t take your eyes off him and add in a louder tone, “Now try me, do your worst.”

“You’re going to regret wanting me at my worst,” Chan growls and before you know it, he crashes his lips against yours. The kiss is anything but sweet, more of a clash of teeth and tongues and saliva dribbling down your chins, yet it leaves you boiling hot and wobbly on your feet. He presses you up against the wall and forces his leg between yours, the sudden contact making you hunch forward. You moan against his mouth when he tugs harshly on your hair, the sting making your nerves go haywire. In the meantime, your hands roam his upper body, blunt nails digging into his shoulders as you try to buck your hips against his leg. While he doesn’t budge, you manage to elicit a groan out of him.

When you pull away, you’re both gasping for air. Chan’s hair is disheveled from the way you’ve been pulling on them, lips pink and glossy. One look in his eyes is enough to make your heart stop beating. They’re dark and animalistic and set ablaze with unfiltered lust. You’re such in a daze from a simple kiss that you nearly stumble when Chan drags you to his room.

He manhandles you on his bed with ease before his lips latch on yours once more. You nearly sob when he rids you off your pants, putting pressure in all the right places to have you losing your mind. As you’re about to gain back some dominance in the kiss, he breaks it off. His fingers that were once ghosting over your underwear are now tracing patterns all over the material, making you spasm. “You’re such a brat, all bark but no bite. All it takes is one kiss and you’ve lost all your fight. Can you get any more pathetic?” he mocks as he focuses his fingertips directly on the wet patch of your underwear. Your eyes roll back as he rubs on the same spot, the broken moans leaving you eerily similar to cries. “Don’t tell me you’re about to come like this. How sensitive are you?”

“Am n-not—” you cut yourself off with a whimper when he lets the waistband snap against your skin.

“Yeah, you sure about that?” he grins and that’s when you break, feeling your high approaching at lightning speed.

“Don’t wanna come like this—”

“But I thought you’re not sensitive?” the satisfied grin just widens with every syllable that leaves his lips. “If you don’t want to come like this, all over your underwear, beg.”

Chan applies even more force to your sensitive spots, and you struggle to have a clear thought. The smirk he delivers is lethal, and you couldn’t be any more convinced that he’s the devil’s incarnate.

“I’ll do anything, please. Don’t let me come like this, that’s all I’m a-aah-asking for,” you weep, your blood nearly boiling at its climax, “I’ll even take a punishment!”

“Say my name,” he orders, fingers still drawing circles.

“Your—”

“My name, not my title.”

Your breath hitches as you finally realize what he’s aiming for. He wants you to remember that it’s him who’s reducing you into this illiterate mess. Him, the one you’ve been despising since before you even met. If you still had any ounce of dignity left, you’d try to fix the power imbalance until you’re left with no choice but to obey, but now you’re so close and the last thing you want to do is come with your pants on.

“Please, Chan,” your voice breaks towards the end and in an instant, he pulls away. As you��re letting you’re basking in the break from his brutal tempo, not too affected by how your upcoming orgasm is fading away, Chan observes you.

And then out of nowhere, he flips you on your stomach and delivers a hard smack to your ass that has you screaming into the pillows.

“You said you’d take any punishment too, right?” You twitch as he rubs the small of your back. You can already imagine the handprints on your ass he continued to slap you with such force that has you moving up the bed. The pain that’s going to haunt you for days. Before you know it, you try to arch your back to lift your ass, but then the bed shifts. “But if you really think I’m going to spank you as a punishment, then you’re really fucking dumb. As if I’ll use my hands on you when we both know you love my hands.”

With that, he drops himself on his chair, spreading his legs that you can see the prominent tent forming in his pants. He orders you over with a flick of his finger, and just as you get up from the bed, a new wave of horror flushes over you.

“Crawl.”

The look you send him is priceless. There’s no fucking way you can do it. It’s just a few meters, nothing you can’t handle, but he’s there sitting on his Ikea swivel chair as if it’s his throne made of gold, watching your every movement like a predator. And then there’s you, only in a shirt and underwear, being forced to go on all fours as if you were his fucking dog—

The difference in power display couldn’t get any more visible. He really is the fucking worst.

“You’d really do anything, huh…” he muses as you drop on your hands and knees and crawl to him, never looking up. It’s only when he beckons you to stand up that you look at him with nothing but rage and shame in your eyes. Chan has always been slightly terrified with your death stare but right now, he can’t take it seriously and it shows. It shows in the way he smiles lopsidedly, in the way his brows quirk in amusement. “Now hump my leg.”

Humiliation runs through your body all over. Your fists are clenched as he waits for you to act, even pats his thigh in case you didn’t get the memo. But oh you do, and his thigh does look inviting.

“Hump my leg like the brainless bitch you are. If you want my hands or my cock, you earn it first. Especially since you treated me like shit ever since I moved in.” The last sentence burns you badly because he has a point. But then there’s the prospect of his hands and dick that’s bulging out of his pants.

Pushing all thoughts away, you settle on his leg. Taking a moment to gather yourself, you tell yourself it’s all good and then you move. The first thrust knocks all air out of your lungs and you grab onto his shoulders for support. You didn’t even move that much, but Chan’s looking at you as if he’s about to fucking devour you and knowing that he is very much capable of moving you around, you’re starting to become overwhelmed.

Eventually, you lose yourself in the feeling of his rough jeans against your drenched underwear, humping on his thigh as your orgasm builds up. It’s silent, save for your pants, and the countless whimpers flying past your lips as your movements gradually become sloppier. You’re almost there and you know it. But so does Chan, and the moment he’s got it figured out, he lunges from your hips and forces you to pick up the pace.

“Oh no, you’re going to come,” he growls, ignoring your pleas and sobs. Adrenaline courses in your blood and you know it isn’t long until you fall apart. You try to make him stop, even put your hands on his, but you don’t have the energy to actively push him away.

“Chan, please— I’m gonna—”

“You’re gonna come? Then fucking come on my thigh, (y/n),” he snaps, and then adds, “You hear that? You’re about to come from humping my thigh.”

Maybe it’s the realization that he’s right, maybe it’s the way he’s worded it. Either way, it’s the last straw to make you spasm as you come, soaking your underwear and even managing to make a mess out of his pants. Chan makes sure you ride through your orgasm, only stopping to move your hips once you’re all spent and resting your head on his shoulder. Your eyes are glassy, vision foggy, but the only thing you can envision clearly is Chan.

Chan jolts when your hand grazes over his bulge. You’re about to undo his pants, but he’s quick to stop you and restrict your hands behind your back.

“You think you deserve my cock? Dream on. As if I would fuck any commoner, especially those who don’t respect me,” he spits, and you flinch at his choice of words, clearly recalling that you used the exact same terms and he’s now using it against you. “You said you’d take any punishment. Well, guess what? This was just punishment number one.”

#yes the ending is rushed oops sue me #may consider part 2 so heads up #stray kids smut #skz smut #bang chan smut #chan smut #smut.mine #dom!chan #sub!reader #crispy.txt

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itsthemoofacewriting · 3 years

Text

The way she’s pulling you in

Good grief. I am the biggest pervert. Look away children, this is explicit.

It all came from my other story where I, on the spot, created a headcanon that Sanji would most definitely have a wank bank and it would be overflowing with Nami. (The other story isn’t posted yet, but it’s on the way and has nothing to do with this btw)

Summary: Nami was seductive, alluring, the sexiest person he’d ever seen in his life. He wasn’t proud, but it helped him in his private moments when it was just him and his hand. Rating: M. NSFW.

This can also be found on AO3 and FFN.

Enjoy!

Nami was seductive, alluring, the sexiest person he’d ever seen in his life. He wasn’t proud, but it helped him in his private moments when it was just him and his hand. NSFW.

Explicit, wank bank, sexual fantasies, masturbating, accidental exhibitionism, kinda, Sanji’s ridiculously attracted to Nami but what’s new, look at these tags, there is shame this time

Title: Wish you were here, With her sweetened breath, I take a moment, In the shape of you, Made your mark on me, The way that she’s pulling you in, I want to taste her lips,

The pantry was his safe haven.

He was pretty sure the crew forgot it even existed most of the time, but that was because it was tiny, cramped and didn’t hold anything of interest. However, for him, in those… private moments, it was ideal. The toilet never an option because someone always wanted to use it and he liked to take his time. So, all he had to do was wait for Luffy’s second snack of the night and he was out like a light. It worked like clockwork.

Which was exactly how he found himself towards the back of the pantry on a little stool between the bags sugar and flour, already palming himself through the material of his trousers. He was particularly desperate today; it’d been a while since he’d been able to do this and Nami had been particularly sexy today walking around in a skimpy white bikini. It’d been a feast for the eyes. Paired with the way he was sure she was touching him more, hanging around him more and this was well overdue.

To be fair, all she had to do was breath and it was too much for him.

He’ll be honest, he wasn’t sure how he held it together, but all he knew was he didn’t have to now as he undid his belt, zipper and shimmied his trousers down to his ankles. There was already a wet spot on the front of his underwear.

The first touch was bliss and he had to hold himself back from going too fast, already too desperate but unwilling for it to be over that quickly. The second touch and he was picturing Nami from today, in the white skimpy bikini and what laid beneath it. He already knew what did, the image haunted him in the best way possible. Perky, creamy breasts with dusty pink nipples that was wanted to bury his head in between and worship like they deserved to be.

That train of thought led to an outfit that made her breasts look phenomenal, whilst also putting them at risk of spilling out at any moment. But it wasn’t just her breasts though; it was her whole body. The present from the people of Zou, who he never got a chance to thank for blessing him with that view. The purple dress.

He wasn’t even sure if she had the purple dress anymore, but a man could dream, and he certainly did. The way it’d hung on her, draped over all her curves, and teased him from the low cut that showed off her breasts so well to the high cut that displayed long creamy legs and revealed that she definitely wasn’t wearing underwear underneath. It was a heart stopping dress, one that made him want to do naughty things with her. More than normal.

He couldn’t remember how many times he’d done this with the image of her in that dress. Countless times, to the point that he was wondering if it was a kink at that this stage. He knew if she ever wore it again, he’d cream his pants there and then.

Using slow, steady stokes had been abandoned the moment he thought about that purple dress, and he had to bite back the gasp when his hand circled the head of his cock, pre cum already oozing out.

And as his hand pumped down to the base, squeezing slightly as he got lost in his daydream, with the thought of just Nami melting away into him and Nami fooling around in the cramped pantry instead.

He’d be in the same spot, but instead she’d be gathered on his lap, straddling him, and so close that he wouldn’t be able to see anything other than her. He’d kiss down the soft skin of her neck as he uttered sweet nothings into her skin, drinking in her gasps.

She’d roll her hips into his and all her bashfulness would disappear at the stiffness in his trousers, instead replaced by a seductive look that promised naughty things. It made him feel heady.

He imagined the way her lithe hands would feel over his cock, the silk of her hands contrasting against the callouses she’d have acquired over the years, the press of her breasts against his chest but mostly, the steamy lidded look she’d give him. He’d seen it time and time again whenever she wanted something, but this would be genuine, filled with desire for him and only him. She’d pant his name in a breath and it would play over his face teasingly.

His hands would be free to roam, along supple thighs to her rounded behind. She’d gasp when he gave it an appreciative caress, but it would be nothing compared to when he got his hands on her breasts. He’d tease her nipples, bringing them to a point, and then roll them between his thumb and finger. Her hand would stutter over his cock, but that’d be fine because the sound of her breathy gasp of his name would be more than enough.

Sanji threw his head back, thumping against the wall of the pantry, gasping and the room was filled with the wet sound of his hand moving over his cock. His hand glided with how much pre-cum there was, almost no friction, and he imagined that’d be her wetness instead, all over his hands from working her up and then his cock as he slid into her.

He’d have her on her back, so he could watch her breasts bounce as he thrusted into her again and again. But it would be nothing compared to her face, the flush across her cheeks, the tears building in the corner of her eyes at the pleasure he brought her and the way she’d be tumbling over her words, between moaning and calling out for him. The way she’d tell him how good he made her feel.

There was no rhythm anymore, his hand moving frantically over his cock as his thoughts turned filthier by the second, his other hand going to cup his balls, rolling them as pleasure shot through his back and a heaviness settled in his stomach. He wouldn’t last much longer; he could feel himself winding tighter and tighter, ready to snap at any moment.

It certainly didn’t help when he then thought about her sitting on his face, a thought always saved towards the end because there was nothing that turned him on more than the thought of tasting her or bringing her the utmost pleasure. His view would be partially blocked but he’d be smothered in all her glory, thighs cushioned either side of his head as he gave her a front row seat to a toe-curling orgasm. She could roll her hips however she wanted as his hands on her behind encouraged her to find the best angle and he’d be buried in her-

“Nami-san!” He called out, unable to hold it in any longer, his hand moving furiously, and this was it.

And it almost was it, until he heard footsteps from the kitchen.

“Sanji-kun?” His heart stopped. The voice he’d been imagining just moments ago, but much breathier, more desperate than this real-life version calling out to him.

No. No. No.

The door to the pantry cracked open. “What are you do-” Her voice trailed off as she took in the dishevelled state of Sanji.

It was like a nightmare. To his utmost horror, there was the object of his affections, the lead star in his dirtiest daydreams, stood at the door looking back at him. She wouldn’t be able to see everything from that angle, but she’d be able to piece it together and he watched it happen in slow motion.

As she took in his state, from the flushed cheeks to his rumpled clothing, her confusion melted into understanding. Her eyes widened, face flushing in embarrassment and mouth agape from the shock. It was a far cry from the lusty one he’d been imagining just moments ago.

And all he could do was gape at her in disbelief. Hands still down his pants and his dick had never been more confused; unsure whether to deflate from pure embarrassment or stay standing strong because the very reason for his arousal was right in front of him. In a skimpy top that didn’t help his dilemma either.

It was abundantly clear what he was doing in the middle of the night, and there was no way she didn’t not hear him just call out for her. So, there they were, both distinctly aware that he had been masturbating and to the to the thought of her no less. Great.

She seemed to come alive then, the shock subsiding. “Oh, oh! I should’ve- you’re-” her scattered speech and hand gesture in his direction was mortifying. That she was referencing it, he wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole.

He’d never seen her so flustered.

“Nami-” he strained out, trailing off because he hadn’t figured out how that sentence was going to end before he’d started speaking. But he had to say something. Do something.

“No, no!” She said, voice sounding panicked, and her eyes were now intent on looking around the room, at everything other than him, which was concerning but a relief at the same time. “It’s my fault… I shouldn’t have barged in. I… should’ve knocked?”

Oh god.

There was a long silence, and he was still tongue tied. At this point he had no idea how he was still looking at her.

“I’m just-” she pointed into the kitchen, now looking down at the box of coffee opposite her. “I’ll see you in the morning,” she squeaked and then she was gone. He heard her hurried footsteps across the kitchen floor, door flinging open and closing with a loud slam.

Then there was only silence. He was alone again.

His hand still on his dick, which was now half hard from the mixed signals but holding on like a trooper. He was nowhere near as turned on as he had been before and now that she knew, he couldn’t do it, couldn’t possibly finish now without feeling anything other than shame.

What had he done?

The next morning at breakfast, neither could look at the other.

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

Welp. What do I even say? This idea just wouldn’t leave me alone and it was so easy to write! Which probably doesn’t help my case here.

Just to add whilst I drown in my sins, my friend Ray started a SaNami discord group. It’s a chill place to chat and share your love for this pairing. If you’d like to join, message me on here or twitter and I’ll send you the link. Please feel free to join, the more the merrier!

Please excuse any errors.

Thanks for reading (this filth).

#SaNami #SanNami #SaNa #namixsanji #opfanfic #opwriting #one piece #Nami #Sanji

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aitarose · 3 years

Text

HEAVEN (K.SUGAWARA) pairing: sugawara koushi x fem!reader

“these are the radiancies of the perfected vision that sees the good and step by step moves nearer what it sees.”

inferno collaboration masterlist

summary: there was the idea of perfection, total bliss amongst two serene souls in love, soulmates if you will—and then there was desperation, the total need for control and appearance—that of which he so greatly wanted, the idea of a love that would never be real.

word count: 2.0k

genre/warnings: timeskip, established relationship, major angst, borderline yandere!suga, slight nsfw, obsession, possessiveness, dark?, slight mention of corruption kink, mentions of religious themes

notes: fun fun fun crazy suga!! i definitely could’ve gone a nice and pretty route for heaven, but i wanted to make him absolutely mad—so here it is!

Perhaps there was a world in which you were happy—another universe where you’d spend your days on the beach, laughing as he skipped rocks, treading behind him in the water as the ocean became too deep for your feet to touch. The sea would caress your back, waves serenading your skin, shriveling the tips of your fingers, and wrinkling them to raisins.

He’d have his arms wrapped around you, tracing light hearts on your waist, peppering sparse kisses to the nape of your neck—showering you in love and affection, the pure emotions that he promised he’d always feel—the very things that he lived by, vowed to, repeated to himself every morning as you’d wake up beside each other under the silk sheets of your king-sized mattress.

“I love you.” He’d whisper softly, lips ghosting your own, a faint smile gracing his face. The shine of his teeth was blinding, white and radiant in the light of the morning sun—heavenly, if you will. There was no doubt in your mind that he had to have been an angel in another life, one of the heralds in the sky, flying through the clouds—just so happening to touch the same ground you walked.

And it truly was bliss, an Elysium filled with lovestruck gazes, romantic nights in each other’s presence, the same three words spoken across the phone, the metro, the bed. You’d never believed in the concept of a honeymoon stage of a relationship, believing that if it were true and pure love, that stage would never really fade—that it would always be racing, that you’d forever be surfing the wave.

But waves fall, surf settles, and the currents will always inevitably pull back.

It’d been gradual, the change in behavior. A complete one-eighty from a caring and considerate boyfriend, one of which he’d hold your hand through doorways, wrap warm blankets over your shoulders, make love to you late at night and into the early hours of the morning—all within the privacy of your own home.

The way he’d tower over you, arms holding his own weight, caging your body beneath his, and showering you in endless acts of love. The times where he’d grab your jaw, passionately colliding his lips with yours, taking all of you as if his life depended on it. How he’d trail kisses down your skin, stopping just above your navel, hips rutting to meet yours, quiet grunts and moans escaping the both of you—ecstasy consuming the room.

You shared the kind of love that was envied. The kind that most would spend their whole lives searching for, searching to have just a taste of what it felt like to be so completed by another that it felt as if life was truly complete—like you’d completed the handbook written by the angels above, the unspoken laws of attraction and existence.

However, that love had shriveled, it’d been lost within the tsunami that was Koushi Sugawara. Suga—the man whose peers admired him, asked advice from, trusting with their future—had become corrupt. He was nothing of the man he once was, the boy she’d known in high school through university, the boy she’d spent all those years loving.

He was a shadow of who he once was—his large and giving heart, becoming maniacal and obsessive, freakishly striving for perfection in every aspect of the world—believing that they themselves could become the model couple if they just tried hard enough, if they just kept up the facade that was their sheer wave of love.

There he stood, laughs overtaking his entire face, eyes pinched shut as tears ran down his cheeks at whatever it was that Daichi had just said. He clapped a hand over his best friend’s shoulder, pushing him backwards as if to say that he was being ridiculous, shaking his head in amusement and chuckling once more at Daichi’s exasperated expression.

It was a lie to say that Suga wasn’t an amazing actor, rather a liar, on the skin-level. He knew how to manipulate a situation, maneuver a discussion so it was only on the subject of you and him, on how perfect and happy you were together—how fantastic you were in the eighth year of your relationship since high school.

His tricks were masterful, a true ace in all aspects of the art of appearances. There was no surprise as to why your friends hadn’t caught on to anything—to how your cheeks would no longer flush at the feeling of his lips pressed against your skin, how you wouldn’t spontaneously pull him into a hug or wrap your arms around his waist—even how neither of you would say those three special words in public, claiming that everyone had grown tired of hearing them.

A chill ran down your spin, shivers vibrating in your bones as his eyes met yours. Pupils dark and gloomy, ravishing you under the LED lights—despite the vibrant colors in the room, cheerful decor, and happiness for Asahi and his new line of clothing—he looked at you as if you were his prey, a shark beneath the mask of a kind smile.

Holding up a finger to his former teammates, Suga made his way towards you, slinking through the crowd easily, managing to push past every single person without coming in contact. A sly grin graced his face, casual and appropriate for the current situation—just as it always was—perfectly appropriate.

“What’re you staring at, beautiful?” He whispered, slinging an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close to his body whilst craning his head outwards, watching to make sure that there were at least some eyes on you. It was as if you were a caged animal, a dolphin in a tank as the children came to watch the show at the zoo.

Sighing deeply, glancing up at him and leaning upwards to press a soft kiss against his lips, you replied—you replied with the thing you knew he wanted to hear. “I’m staring at you of course.” As his eyes narrowed, nose touching yours, he smirked, a shit-eating look in his pupils. “You’re all I’m ever looking at, Koushi.”

“Damn, right I am.” Suga scoffed, grabbing your jaw and pulling you upwards into a sweeping embrace—his mouth moving fluidly with yours, devouring your surprise, corrupting the innocence he’d already taken from you so many years ago in the physical sense as well as emotional—encouraging you to continue your show. “Smile for the audience sweetheart.” He said against your lips, biting yours, claiming you in front of his friends.

“We wouldn’t want to let down their expectations, now would we?”

Your high school friends were going wild, laughing at the sight of the two of you wrapped in each other’s arms, showing your displays of love just as you always had at Karasuno—the displays of love that were nothing but an act, a charade that you continued for the sake of your reputation—the reputation you had as the young sweethearts who would undoubtedly live up to their yearbook expectations and get married after graduation.

“Enough already, Suga!” Daichi dragged his best friend away from your puckered lips, away from the unwanted desperation that you had for him. It wasn’t your fault that he was practically irresistible, despite the many downsides of his obsessions. He’d been your dream man for all of your life, a man that you wouldn’t give up for the world no matter how toxic the relationship had become—your body longed for him, muscle memory inact with the feeling of his skin on yours.

A sheepish smile grew on your lips, shrugging at the hollers and cat-calls the party had thrown at you, thinking they were laughing along with the wild act—but in reality, it felt as if they were reacting to a comedy show—a show in which you were the star, the only person that was being completely humiliated for pleasure.

The former captain’s chuckles bubbled from his throat, hands holding his stomach as he became breathless, seeing the situation as all the more humorous, not at all suspicious with the perfection of it all. “You guys really are our little love birds, aren’t you?” He nodded at Suga, giving him a little high-five as if to congratulate him for loving you.

The gleam in your boyfriend’s eyes was one of unmistakable happiness, pure joy at the words he was hearing come from Daichi’s mouth. He looked like a man in love, a man who was so overcome with the unconditional feeling of belonging to another that there was nothing else that mattered—nothing that could surpass how his heart beat for you.

How he’d brush your hair in the morning, gently caressing your face, helping you apply blush and bronzer—making sure that you looked beautiful, beautiful enough to impress your shared friends. How he’d spontaneously buy you clothes, dresses, even shoes—ones that he saw in the latest media posts, knowing that they were exactly in style so you’d be envied for your impeccable fashion sense.

Or even how he’d continue to make love to you, all on a planned schedule—a poll made by millions that stated the perfect time to be physical—the perfect time for you to become his again and again.

And perhaps this should’ve made you shy away, grow tense at the feeling of his touch, the feeling of his lips on yours. You could’ve been long gone at this point, far away in the arms of another, someone new who would treat you the way you truly deserved to be treated—a person that would value your love above all else, above the opinion on your love by others.

That was your life, your life in another world—another world where you were able to ride his wave, steer your ship away from his raging sea, and into the calm of the sunset. A world where you were miles and miles away from his predetermined coordinates, compass thrown into the depths of the ocean, buried under the tons of black water.

But this wasn’t that world, and you hadn’t left him—you couldn’t just leave him.

Since there was still a shadow of the man he once was underneath the plastic persona he chose to put on display, the Ken-like reality that he saw through rose-colored glasses. You knew that he was in there somewhere, that if you could just stick around long enough, you could save him from the currents that were drowning him—the currents of obsession and self-doubt.

Which is why it wasn’t your fault when you’d instantaneously fawn at the little looks he’d send your way, or the light kisses pressed to the palms of your hands. When your eyes would roll back as he’d whisper in your ear, telling you how amazing you are, all the things he wanted to do to you as you touched below the belt—hidden beneath the taunting silky white of your bedsheets.

You were victim to the corrupt angel that was Koushi Sugawara, the true demon that’d fallen from heaven—Lucifer, himself, in his most beautiful human form.

There was no crest to this wave, no tunnel that ended in a bright and blinding light, no still beneath the moonlight with sparse waves rippling in its after-light. All there was was the droplets of love that he held for you, a drought in a desert that would never see rain—a horizon that would be barren of life and love for an eternity.

You’d never leave him, never tread the next surf without him behind you on that board. He was your world, while you were his constant—a single variable that he had complete control over, an equation that he could dictate and solve over and over again, never finding the last solution as there was no real solution to perfection.

There was only the idea of it, the idea of being something equal to that of heaven—equal to that of absolute bliss and serenity. You were stuck in a loop that would go on forever and there was no one to blame but your blind love for a man that would never again feel the same. So, in that moment, in every moment onwards—those three little words, three little lies, would be permanent tattoos on your lips.

“I love you.”

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naeunsfm · 3 years

Photo

hi everyone ! as mentioned in the chat , my name’s kofi , i’m twenty4 , a lover of cheap phone games , and i prefer either she / her or they / them pronouns . naeun is a brand new muse of mine so i’m still working through any kinks that may arise , but i’m sure that as i get to develop her , i’ll figure it all out ! that being said , underneath the cut you can find her intro !

( MOON GA YOUNG , 26 , CIS WOMAN , SHE / HER ) * hey , i’m looking for the office of NAEUN HAN . they’re the EMPLOYEE who’s known around the office as the POOR LITTLE RICH GIRL , if that helps ? not to be a gossip , but i’ve heard that they’re BUOYANT but CAVALIER , is that true ? i also heard that she’s the one that BROKE THE NESPRESSO MACHINE ON HER FIRST DAY . anyways , here’s the coffee they ordered .

template credit to @ngoeuns !

name : han naeun . nicknames : went by nancy during her school years. age + date of birth : 26 + april 3rd , 1994 . zodiac : aries . moral alignment : chaotic neutral . gender + pronouns : cis woman + she / her / hers . place of birth : yeongdeungpo-gu , seoul , south korea . place of residence : new york city , new york . orientation : bisexual biromantic . occupation : wardrobe stylist , cut off rich girl . nationality : korean - american . ethnicity : korean . languages spoken : korean , english , conversational japanese .

background.

naeun han was born in seoul , south korea to her relatively rich parents , ji - cheol and sang - mi . with ji - cheol as a successful private doctor and sang - mi owning her own business , life was comfortable for the han family . the family was living in seoul at the time , and had plans to leave for the states , but their plans were put on hold when sang - mi found out she was pregnant . the couple decided to stay in seoul for two years , and relocated to new york shortly after naeun’s seond birthday . the small family settled into the neighborhood of jamaica estates , and they started their comfortable life .

growing up , naeun was a girl who was ridiculously spoiled . it showed in her themed birthday parties , in her gifts , and in the way that her father would easily hand over his credit card when she wanted to go shopping . however , although naeun was spoiled by her parents , she was also heavily ignored . the gifts , the clothes , and the birthday parties were simply a show that they were caring parents , but in reality they were simply too busy for her . naeun can remember being told that her parents would be there for recitals , but they’d never show up . even if she were picked up by her father , she could barely say how her day was before he went back to having a conversation with other people .

naeun could have been considered as one of the popular girls on her private school campus . it mostly stems from the fact that she had money , but she also had parents who seemingly didn’t care . she could go to parties , hang out until late with her friends , and when they went on business trips , her house was the place to party . the only person that naeun had the most respect for was the family’s housekeeper , as her parents only paid attention to her when she had gotten into trouble . there was no praise when she was passing her honors courses , but when she purposefully let a grade slip , then she had gotten an ear full . if there was one thing naeun was looking forward to , it was college .

so when the time comes , naeun couldn’t be happier that she was accepted to the new school . although it was that far away from her parents , she was grateful for the chance to be from underneath their watchful eye . despite that , her parents still expected the best from her , so she made sure to do well while studying liberal arts . naeun graduates , and immediately goes into studying fashion studies for her masters degree . while there , naeun participates in various apprenticeships , and her most prominent was working with proenza schouler that solidifies her love for fashion . naeun graduates from the parson school of design , obtaining her masters , and is surprised when she finally receives praise from her parents.

for a little over a year , naeun decides to take it easy . she vacations , spends money frivolously , and even manages to spark up something of a following on social media . she spends her time sitting front row at various fashion shows and spending time in seoul . eventually , as he often did , ji - cheol steps into naeun’s life and wonders when his daughter will stop living like she has no problems . at that point , he decides to cut his daughter off from the limitless credit cards and extravagant lifestyle she was used to . her parents make her move out into her own apartment ( which they bought but whatever ) , and was expected to land a job in three months .

tired of her parents only finding faults with all she does , naeun hits the ground running with finding a job . there were times where she couldn’t get interviews or even a call back , but she never stopped . eventually , as the three months were coming to an end , she lands a job at masters international . she lands the job as wardrobe stylist , and for once , she can rub in her parents’ face that she’s capable of providing for herself . so , naeun has been working at masters for a little over a year now , and is often the first point of contact when someone needs to put together an outfit . if she’s not breaking nespresso machines , you can find her in her office or on a photoshoot set .

headcanons.

naeun , despite being cut off , is still spoiled as hell . she tends to let this side of her come out when she’s being lazy , and often will expect that others will do something for her even if she doesn’t ask ( and please , tell her no ) .

she has the temperament of a petulant child . sometimes she’s happy , sometimes she’s moody , and most of the time she’s upset over something minor .

she’s a pot stirrer ! do not tell her your business or she’s gonna spill the beans , mostly as an effort to cause drama . the phrase ‘ throws a rock and hides her hand ’ was coined because of naeun . she’s messy , but at least she’ll own up to it . . . sometimes .

she is extremely anal about her skincare / makeup routine , and doesn’t deviate from either if it would make her late . she’s the friend who you swear worked at sephora or ulta in a past life because she knows everything there is to know about various products . a skincare fridge user , and definitely the girl who starts her morning with jade rollers and chugging down lemon ice water .

her main style inspo is freddy cousin - brown ( freddy on instagram ! ) . this means lots of pale tones , matching skirt and top sets , perfectly chosen accessories , and of course , the most perfect blowout to ever exist .

you know those scenes in 2000s romantic comedy films where the main character and her friend are driving , but they’re screaming the whole time ? live footage of naeun when driving , mostly because she only got her driver’s license about a year ago ( olivia rodrigo WHO ) and even then , she doesn’t drive often .

even though her parents essentially kicked her out , they still bought her apartment , so it’s this really fancy place in manhattan ! the main difference is she can’t afford housekeepers and the like , so she’s had to learn how to take care of herself in every form . be careful when coming to her place though , as she was able to get a two bedroom ( primarily for closet space ) , but she has so many clothes that they’ve taken up nearly every free space in her apartment NFJDFJD .

#masters.intro #i'm finished finally pyltrotkriyjtr

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caught-in-a-seesaw-stigma · 4 years

Text

Map of the Soul, Chapter Two

For the @btswritingcafe‘s Map of the Soul: 7 Workshop

Pairings: OT7 x reader (kinda); Taehyung x reader

Series Summary: If you give a piece of yourself to everyone you love, at some point, there will be nothing left for yourself. While feeling lost and alone in your adult life, a strange box falls onto your head in your own closet, and you take an unexpected walk down memory lane wondering where everything went wrong. Was it the romances that fizzled out, the friends & loved ones you left behind, the “what could’ve been” moments, the brush with Fate that never quite connected? Could the strange map you find have the answers you are looking for? Determined to feel complete once again, you embark on a journey to reclaim the missing pieces of your soul.

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut (references to previous)

Word Count: 8k+

Warnings: cursing & vulgar language, accidental flashing, mentions of kinks and other sexual content, sexual innuendos, mentions of previous sexual encounters, nerdy soulmate things, bisexuality

Chapter Two: Soulmates are a Forever Kind of Thing

March 18th, 11:37am

The sound of an incessant car alarm outside tore you away from the breezy dreamscape you were enjoying with a scantily clad Jungkook. You pried your eyes open and groaned at the never-ending beeps and boops below your window.

SHUT UP ALREADY, YOU PATHETIC EXCUSE FOR A MACHINE!

You grumbled angrily as you slid out of bed and made your way to the bathroom. The soreness between your legs made you smile, and you flirted with the idea of texting Jungkook.

Hmmm, too soon. Better give it a day or two.

It was a lazy Sunday for you, so you spent the next hour lounging and snacking while Oberyn curled up next to you on the couch. You were starting to submit to an afternoon of mindless YouTube streaming when a notification dinged on your phone.

Jungkook?!

You scrambled across the couch to take your phone off of the charger. The notification wasn’t from your messaging app though, it was from your Instagram. Your old friend Taehyung sent you a message and you smiled when you saw his profile picture. Your heart warmed as you thought about the first time you met Kim Taehyung.

↸ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ

Several Decades Earlier

You met Kim Taehyung in kindergarten when you fell off the monkey bars and he unknowingly broke your fall. You couldn’t figure out how to soothe the sobbing mess he was, so you kissed him on the cheek like your mother would whenever you got hurt.

“Better?” you hoped. “Did I make the hurt go away?”

He sniffled slightly and looked up at your face with tears streaming down his face. He pouted and shook his head emphatically, then pointed to the top of his head. You simply nodded and planted a soft kiss to the top of his chocolate locks.

“How about now?” you tried. “All gone?”

He pouted again and then pointed to his forehead. You pulled his head closer and placed another kiss on his forehead. His tears stopped, but he was still hiccuping as a result of his earlier crying fit.

“What’s wrong?” You asked gently, still holding his head. “Are you still hurt?”

His pout deepened and he nodded slightly. He tried to look you in the eye, but he kept hiccuping and closing his eyes in protest.

“Where?” you pleaded. “I’ll make it better.”

He lifted his shining puppy dog eyes to meet your concerned face. Slowly, he lifted his finger and placed it on his own pouty lips. You gasped slightly and widened your eyes.

“There?” you asked. “I hit you there?”

I guess that makes sense. I probably kicked him when I fell.

New tears formed in his big brown eyes and your heart sank at the sight. You sighed and gathered up your strength. With a huff, you leaned forward quickly and placed the softest little peck on his lips and then pulled away. However, before you could escape, the boy reached up and grabbed your wrist. You panicked for a moment, but then realized he just needed help standing up.

You helped him stand and as soon as you dusted the dirt from the fall, he enveloped you in a crushing bear hug.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “I feel much better now.”

He pulled away and wiped at his eyes. You offered him a small smile and grinned at the adorable sight. A sudden realization hit you and you gasped loudly, which captured his attention.

“Hey,” you cried. “Your hiccups are gone!”

The boy froze and looked around, as though hiccups were tangible things he could track with his vision. A wide grin blossomed across his face and you noted the cute boxy shape. As troubled as this first encounter was, you still felt drawn to the silly boy with the rosy cheeks and fluffy hair.

“What’s your name?” you asked sweetly. “Want to be friends?”

“My name is Taehyung,” he replied while grabbing your hand. “I would love to be your friend!”

ᵉⁿᵈ ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ⇲

A soft smile spread across your face at the memory. A lifelong friendship started from that first tumble, and you never regretted giving your first kiss away to the cute boy you’d crushed when you fell from those monkey bars.

Sigh.

You opened up your Instagram app and searched for the message Taehyung sent. Your eyes widened and you laughed maniacally when you saw the picture he sent.

You were laughing so hard, you nearly fell off the couch. Oberyn scuffled away angrily, clearly annoyed that your outburst of laughter disturbed his nap time.

When the giggle fit finally died down to a manageable sense of amusement, you looked at the message again. Taehyung always did have a way of saying just the right thing at just the right time. Your amusement quickly shifted into longing and nostalgia, and you could almost feel your soul aching for its mate.

I miss him so much.

Over seven years had passed since you last saw Taehyung in person. The summer before you were going to start high school, his parents had to move to another state. You were both happy that his dad was finally getting the promotion he worked so hard for, but it was devastating to think that you would be going through high school without your best friend and soulmate.

Throughout high school, you kept in touch (thank the gods for the internet and smartphones), but you both went to different colleges and were only able to meet up during breaks. Once you both graduated, you took jobs in different states and your communication dwindled to random messages and the occasional phone call or video chat.

It wasn’t enough. You needed him as a permanent physical fixture in your life, but there wasn’t much either of you could do about it. You both loved your jobs and you were comfortable in your current living situations. However, if an opportunity to change that ever revealed itself, you were positive that you would both jump at it like feral cats.

You briefly considered messaging him on Instagram, but your lingering nostalgia convinced you to call him instead. It was so long since you’d heard his resonant baritone voice purring into your ear. Honestly, that voice alone could wreck someone to pieces. Luckily, you knew the man connected to the voice so it didn’t affect you nearly as much.

You quickly scrolled through your contacts and hit the “Call” button. After three rings, the man himself answered with a long sigh.

“You couldn’t give me a few minutes to dry myself off before calling?” he whined cutely. “I had to rush through my shower just to answer the phone.”

“No one told you to do that, Tae,” you countered. “You could always let it go to voicemail and then just call me back.”

“Yeah, right,” he scoffed playfully. “You know better than anyone that I am the worst when it comes to returning phone calls. You’re lucky I still remember to send you messages on social media.”

“Fair point, sir,” you giggled. “The only reason I haven’t kicked your forgetful ass to the curb is because you’re my best friend and I love your stupid ass.”

“Ummm, I think you mean soulmate,” Taehyung argued. “Remember, we decided that the term “best friend” wasn’t strong enough to accurately describe our relationship.”

“Ah, yes,” you concurred. “How could I possibly forget the Great Soulmate Debate of 5th grade? You almost got us into detention with that speech of yours, Tae.”

“It’s your fault,” he shot back. “If you had just accepted the term soulmate when I first suggested it, everything would have been fine. But, noooooooo, someone just had to argue with me and keep us in the hallway until we were officially skipping class.”

“Don’t complain, Tae-Bear, you love it when I argue with you,” you reminded him. “It’s part of the dynamic of our relationship. If we just gave in to each other all the time, it wouldn’t be any fun.”

“Exactly,” he chuckled. “You’re the ice to my fire, the sweet to my sour, the jelly to my peanut butter.”

“Why do you get to be the peanut butter?” you challenged. “Why do I have to be the jelly in this metaphor?”

“Because I’m smooth and you’re cool, remember?” Taehyung responded. “Don’t tell me your memory is slipping, babe.”

“No,” you sighed sadly. “I think it’s just been too long since we’ve actually seen each other in person. I miss you, Tae-Bear.”

The video call feature started ringing in your ear and you almost squealed in excitement. You swiped a finger across the screen and adjusted the phone on the coffee table. A shirtless Taehyung with wet hair greeted you with the boxiest of smiles, and you couldn’t help waving and squealing like a ridiculous fangirl.

“My Tae-Tae,” you cooed. “Baby, I miss you so much!”

He chuckled and pulled a scarf headband on to push his dark curling locks away from his eyes. You smiled at his golden skin glistening in his after shower glow, and shook your head at how many women despise you for being so close to this delicious morsel. It was a blessing and a curse, but you carried that burden with pride because you just loved him so much.

“Ok, now, let’s do the math, babe,” Taehyung ordered while pulling on a flowy button down with a wild print. “I know you hate math, but try to work with me, ok? When was the last time we were actually together in person?”

“Well, this is my eighth year teaching at the university,” you recalled. “I think it was that first Christmas after I started working here. We went home and had sleepovers every night until after New Year’s. You had just gotten your job at the marketing firm, and we were upset that we wouldn’t be able to see each other as much.”

“Shit,” he gaped at you. “Has it really been that long? That doesn’t seem right.”

“A little over seven years,” you calculated grimly. “We’ve tried to meet up almost every year, but something always comes up either with you or me.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, babe,” Taehyung apologized. “I didn’t even realize that much time passed. How are we even surviving?”

“Barely,” you pouted. “Whenever I’m off from school, you’re busy, and whenever you get vacation time, I have school. The cycle never ends.”

There was a few seconds of reluctant silence and then Taehyung had a visual epiphany.

“Actually,” Taehyung grinned. “I do have some vacation time I can take. I have a full week that I need to take this year or else I lose it. Aren’t you on Spring Break right now?”

You popped up in your seat and nodded quickly.

Was this really happening?!

“Kim Elizabeth Taehyung!” you scolded. “Don’t you dare play with my emotions right now. Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Taehyung giggled and angled the phone so you could see that he was on one knee. He comically cleared his throat and gave you his best pouty face.

“My beautiful darling soulmate,” he purred in a purely saccharine voice. “Can I stay at your place while I take my vacation? I don’t want to stay in a lame Airbnb again.”

“Of course you can!” you exclaimed. “I could never say no to that adorable face.”

He jumped up and started breaking out into his signature celebration dance, but you quickly noted that he was just wearing a towel from the waist down. Before you could comment on his lack of clothing, the towel unraveled and you got an eyeful of Taehyung that men and women alike would kill to have.

“TAEHYUNG!” you screeched. “Cover your shame!”

He dropped the phone on the bed and you could hear his cute laughter filling the room. He was nearly gasping for air when he finally picked up the phone. You noted the reddened ears and rosy cheeks showering his boxy grin like a halo. The man was far from an angel, but at least he had the decency to be embarrassed by his accidental flashing.

“I never took you for a cam-boy, Tae,” you teased. “Is that how you’re earning extra money these days?”

He rolled his eyes and shot you a look over the phone. It’s not like you’d never seen Taehyung naked, but you had to admit, it had been a while.

“You know that isn’t one of my kinks, babe,” he reprimanded. “I am not an exhibitionist. I would never make it as a cam-boy.”

You leaned forward and glanced down and then back at his face and lifted your eyebrows suggestively.

“From what I could see,” you mused. “You are more than qualified to have a big, long successful career as a cam-boy. You could be rolling in some thick money stacks, if you know what I mean.”

He tried so hard to resist your perverse innuendo, but the scowl he threw at you quickly morphed into unadulterated amusement. He fell back on his bed and clutched at his stomach with a major case of the giggles. From your slanted angle on the bed, you could see him gasping for air with tears forming in his eyes. Once he regained his composure, he wiped away his tears and wagged his finger at you.

“Naughty, naughty,” he scolded. “I may have to punish you when I get there.”

You rolled your eyes at his insinuation, but quickly brightened at the prospect of his arrival. It was time to make plans for your Tae-bear’s trip.

“Ok, let’s get serious for a minute,” you stated. “I need dates, times, number of checked bags, everything. When should I expect you to get here, TaeTae?”

“Let me check with the office and I’ll get back to you, babe,” he replied. “I just finished off a big account, so I do have a little down time coming my way. I will get everything cleared at work and then book my flight. As soon as I know, you’ll know.”

“Ah, I’m so excited to see you!” you squealed with delight. “It’s been way too long. I’ll set up the guest room for you.”

“Umm, guest room?” Taehyung queried with a smirk. “Yeah, that isn’t going to work for me. I’m going to need the left side of your mattress, babe.”

“Tae, that’s my side of the bed,” you growled. “You know that.”

“I know,” he winked cheekily. “But as your guest of honor, I get first dibs. You could always sleep on top of me, if you so choose.”

“Absolutely not, Kim Taehyung,” you spat. “Soulmate or not, you know how crucial my sleep cycle is. Any disturbance hitherto is a recipe for disaster.”

“Meh,” he shrugged. “I’ll risk it.”

The sound of an alien space gun text tone went off and his brow furrowed slightly.

“Hey, babe, I gotta go,” Taehyung announced. “Duty calls.”

“Ok, baby,” you pouted. “Text me later!”

You both blew kisses at the camera and ended the video call. You plopped back onto the couch and took a deep breath. If the Universe was feeling generous, you would soon be enjoying a full week of soulmate time. It felt like a dream.

Please let this happen. I need some Tae-time to recharge my soul.

Oberyn randomly popped up by your side and pawed at your arm with a pathetic whine.

“Ok, ok,” you relented. “Let me get my shoes on and I will take you for a walk.”

As you slipped on your favorite pair of rainbow Crocs, you reached up to grab his harness and leash. Oberyn danced around you in circles and it took a few tries to get him situated and out the door. By the time you returned to the apartment, you decided it was time to grab some lunch and start planning your vacation week.

So much to do, so little time.

March 18th, 7:47pm

You were just starting up another load of laundry when you received a Snapchat notification from Taehyung. You unlocked your phone in a flash and opened your Snapchat app. You clicked on his name in your messages with your breath held hostage.

Oh no! I’m not ready for the disappointment yet.

You were just about to fall into your familiar pit of despair when another message popped onto the screen.

Your shrill cheers and exclamations scared Oberyn right out of the laundry room and into the safety of the living room. You almost felt bad for scaring the daylights out of your dog, but turnabout is always fair play in this house. He scared you half to death on multiple occasions. A little payback was definitely in order.

You immediately started a video call to Taehyung, bouncing with glee all over your apartment. He answered after only a few seconds, and thankfully, was fully dressed.

“Well, hello, beautiful,” Taehyung quipped. “Feels like I just saw you hours ago. Couldn’t get enough of me earlier?”

“I think you showed me plenty this morning,” you joked. “Now, dish out the deets, Kim. Will you be here by this weekend?”

“How does tomorrow sound?” he replied with a smirk. “I was able to cash in my miles to book an early flight tomorrow morning. I’m packing as we speak.”

“Are you kidding me?” you nearly shrieked. “You’re really going to be here tomorrow?!”

“Yup yup,” Taehyung chirped. “If you pick me up at the airport, I’ll buy you lunch. How does that sound?”

“It sounds perfect, Tae-Bear,” you sighed happily. “I can’t wait to see you.”

“Same here, babe,” he smiled softly at you. “I’m going to finish packing and then I have to go drop off Tannie at my sister’s. She’s going to dog sit for me while I’m gone.”

“Awwww,” you cooed. “Bring him with you! You know Obie misses his little brother. You already have him cleared as your emotional support dog. Why don’t you just bring my precious Yeontan to see his favorite aunt?”

“You really don’t mind?” Taehyung questioned. “You know he’s just chaos disguised as a ball of fluff.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you retorted. “Tannie is an angel. I’ll start clearing out a space for him. I have an extra bed for him and everything. The boys still eat the same food, right? Just bring his bowls and a blanket for the bed.”

Taehyung considered your proposal carefully, and then pursed his lips.

“I think you need to ask him yourself,” Taehyung suggested. “Maybe you can convince him to come with me.”

Taehyung switched the perspective on the phone so you could see into his apartment. He walked down the hallway calling for Yeontan. Curled up on an elaborate dog bed and surrounded by a plethora of dog toys sat the fluffiest dog known to man. Yeontan lifted his head and yawned cutely into the camera.

“Tannie!” you cooed at him. “What are you doing, sweetheart? Are you napping?”

Yeontan’s fluffy tail wagged in excitement and he stood up and shook the sleepiness out of his fur. You reached over to lift Oberyn from his spot on the couch and put him in view of the camera.

“Look, Obie,” you instructed. “It’s your little brother. Say hi.”

Both dogs tried to sniff at the other dog in the frame, and their eyes lit up in recognition.

“Tannie, do you want to come and visit your big brother Obie?” you asked the animated pup on the phone. “Tell your daddy that you want to come over to stay with us.”

Oberyn barked at the screen and wagged his tail, and Yeontan followed suit. The yips and growls from both dogs made you and Taehyung giggle profusely. You released your wiggly pup and sat forward on the couch to grin at your soulmate as he switched the perspective back to his handsome face.

“Ok, I guess you win,” Taehyung relented with a smirk. “I’ll pack Tannie’s things as well. Let me call my sister and cancel the sitter. I will forward you my travel itinerary as soon as that’s done. I love you, I miss you, and I will see you tomorrow, babe.”

“Same,” you replied joyfully. “Please be careful and get some rest. I know how cranky you get when you don’t get enough sleep.”

Taehyung stuck his tongue out at you like a petulant child and then made a goofy face into the camera. You made an equally funny face and then you both blew each other kisses and ended the call. He had a lot of packing to do, and you had to prepare for his arrival.

This is unbelievably wonderful. I never would have expected my break to go as well as this.

March 19th, 6:17am

You parked your car and dashed inside the airport lobby. You were supposed to meet Taehyung in Baggage Claim to help him with his bags and with Yeontan. The little fur ball was pint sized, but he was also fierce.

You spotted Taehyung’s silky waves under a hunter green beret near the middle of the baggage claim area. Once you were close enough, you noticed he was struggling to keep Yeontan calm and quiet as the carousel started moving.

“Sir, you need to control your dog,” you chided in a nasally pretentious voice. “Don’t make me call security.”

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung sputtered, not looking up. “I promise he’s actually really sweet, but he’s just really excited right now. He’s seeing his aunt for the first time in years.”

Taehyung spun around abruptly and shoved an ecstatic yapping Yeontan into your arms and then leaned in to place a fat kiss on your cheek. You gaped at his playful grin and shot him a knowing smile while Yeontan placed numerous kisses to your face.

“You knew it was me, huh?” you giggled, giving Yeontan a few kisses in return. “Sneaky Tae-Bear.”

He shrugged and wandered off to grab his bags from the carousel. You placated Yeontan and waited patiently as Taehyung rolled three suitcases over to you. Once you got everything packed into the car, including Yeontan strapped into the dog car seat, Taehyung lifted you around your waist and spun you around joyfully. Once he lowered your feet to the ground, you stayed wrapped in his bear hug on the verge of tears.

“Tae,” you breathed out shakily. “I really missed you.”

His arms tightened around your waist and he nuzzled his face into your neck.

“I missed you too,” Taehyung sighed sadly. “Let’s never let this much time pass without seeing each other. I didn’t realize how empty I felt, darling, until I held you in my arms.”

You chuckled at his dramatics and pulled away to look at his face. His mischievous smirk was fully loaded complete with a lifted eyebrow and you shook your head at his antics.

“Drama queen,” you joked.

“Hey,” he shrugged. “It’s the reason you gave me the middle name Elizabeth.”

You hurried home to get Yeontan settled in with Oberyn and Taehyung situated in your guest room. Once everything was unpacked and set, you ordered Thai food delivery for lunch so you and Taehyung could catch up while the boys played around the apartment.

“I really like your place,” Taehyung commented with a mouthful of Pad Thai. “It’s smaller than mine, but the setup is so much better.”

“How do you do that?” you asked in a pout. “How is it possible for you to compliment and insult my apartment in the same sentence?”

“Just talented, I guess,” he grinned while stealing a spoonful of your Tom Yum soup. “Speaking of talent, what hot stud did you have over recently, you little minx?”

You felt a rush of blood creep across your cheeks and ears at that last comment.

How the fuck does he know?

“What are you talking about, Tae?” you muttered nonchalantly while clearing your throat. “What makes you think that I had anyone over?”

“Well, I happened to notice the condom wrapper and used condom in the trash can in your bathroom,” Taehyung mused. “Someone had a big guest to entertain, didn’t they?”?”

You nearly choked on the Thai tea you were drinking, and Taehyung was damned lucky you didn’t do a spit take all over his expensive looking vintage clothes. After you recovered from your near death experience, you glared at the smug look on his face. He was chomping away happily on yet another spring roll and he paused to waggle his eyebrows at you and grin.

“Sooooo,” he drawled. “Who was it? Anyone special or just a rando from the bar?”

You hesitated. Taehyung would remember Jungkook. How could he not? You were constantly raving about Jungkook’s adorable bunny smile, his rippling muscles, the beautiful mole under his lip that you wanted to kiss every time you saw him. As you were debating the issue in your head, Taehyung picked up on your hesitation and scooted closer to you on the couch.

“It’s someone I know, isn’t it?” he assumed correctly. “C’mon, soulmate, dish me them dirty deets. I won’t judge.”

“Uh, yeah, you will,” you shot back in defiance. “You always judge, Tae.”

“Well, yeah, ok,” he admitted. “But I promise it will stay between us. Pinky promise!”

He stuck out his pinky and your heart fluttered with elation.

The pinky promise…

After the Great Soulmate Debate of 5th grade, you and Taehyung developed a signature “Ultimate Soulmate Handshake” that started with a linking of your pinkies. You lifted your eyes to meet his challenging gaze and you knew that he was testing the true strength of your relationship with his little gesture. You smirked at him and linked your pinky with his own, and you both stood up to do the proper handshake.

What followed was an overly complicated ballet of fingers, palms, and ridiculously dated dance moves ending with you jumping into his arms and you both striking a pose. Almost a decade had passed since you’d both completed these actions, yet it seemed like only yesterday you were sealing some kind of deal or promise with the Ultimate Soulmate Handshake.

Taehyung wrapped his arms around you once again and twirled you around the living room. Both of you were giggling like idiots, and you could not remember when you ever felt so happy. Taehyung truly was the other half of your soul, and you didn’t realize how much you missed him until that exact moment. Your giggles morphed into a quiet sob, and Taehyung quickly lowered you when he felt the atmosphere between you shift.

“Awww, babe, don’t cry,” he pleaded while wiping away your tears. “Why are you crying?”

“I just realized how much I’ve missed you, Tae-bear,” you sniffled. “It’s been too long.”

“Oh, honey,” he cooed while pulling you closer. “I know, believe me. I feel it too. I definitely feel like you were the thing that was missing in my life. Come here, baby, let’s dry those tears.”

Taehyung pulled you into the kitchen and grabbed a paper towel from the counter. He dabbed at your tears until you pulled the napkin away to clean up your face and blow your nose unceremoniously into it. He grimaced playfully at your actions and then pulled you close so he could kiss your forehead. You walked around the counter to toss the used paper towel in the trash and turned to find Taehyung looking curiously at the box you’d left on the counter.

“What’s this?” he asked in wonder. “It’s beautiful. Look at the embellishments on the feet and the resin lacquered over the collage. Did you make this, babe?”

“No, I found it in my closet,” you said. “I don’t know where it came from. It’s not mine.”

“You could’ve fooled me,” he quipped. “This totally screams your name. Look at those stickers, these colors, and that handwriting. How is this not your box?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “I think I would remember making something like this, Tae. I honestly have no idea what it is.”

“What’s inside?” he asked while lifting the lid. “Hey! My hamburger!”

Taehyung lifted out the small plastic hamburger toy and his boxy smile made a sudden appearance on his glowing face. As bright as his smile was, your confusion was matching it in intensity.

“What do you mean your hamburger?'' you questioned carefully.

Taehyung’s smile dropped and transformed into utter disbelief.

“You don’t remember?!” he shrieked. “Are you fucking kidding me?! How dare you?!”

Taehyung stomped off in the direction of your bedroom and you followed him, still perplexed by this mystery hamburger toy that brought both joy and anger to your soulmate.

You walked into your room and found Taehyung digging into the bowels of his suitcase. A few perfectly folded articles of clothing flew over his shoulders and you caught them in midair. You were just setting them on the bed when Taehyung screeched and startled you into a sitting position. He rounded on you and held up the hamburger toy and another small toy resembling a strawberry milkshake.

“딸기/ttalgi (strawberry),” he stated simply. “That was what I started calling you after you spilled that milkshake on my head after our first fight, remember? I said it was superior to apple, even though you refuse to accept it. In fact, I’m bringing it back because it totally suits you.``

The confusion on your face evaporated as the memory came hurtling back to you. You brought your hands up to cover your mouth and your eyes widened at the revelation.

“Holy shit,” you murmured. “I haven’t thought about that in years. What was that fight even about anyway?”

“It was over that Japanese girl we both wanted to date in 4th grade,” he reminded you. “The one who had the bright red hair, what was her name?”

“Oh yeah,” you drawled. “Asuka. She was beautiful, just like a cherry blossom petal falling from the sky.”

“A little cliche, but ok,” Taehyung chuckled. “But yes, her. We were at that burger place and we saw her. You told me you were going to ask her out and I got mad because I wanted to ask her out. We fought and ended up throwing food at each other.”

You blushed at the memory and tried to hide your face. It was so embarrassing to think about how immature you used to be.

“Sorry, Tae-bear,” you apologized. “I don’t even remember what you said that made me so angry.”

It was Taehyung’s turn to flush awkwardly. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously and huffed out a sigh.

“I, uh,” he stuttered. “I said that you couldn’t ask Asuka out because you were a girl.”

“Oh snap,” you gasped. “You did say that, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” he admitted sheepishly. “We were in 4th grade, babe. We didn’t know shit about sexuality back then. You just knew you liked both genders and I refused to believe that was possible.”

“That was until senior year when you met that percussion guy from marching band,” you scoffed. “What was his name? Kai?”

“Oh, Kai,” Taehyung reminisced fondly. “The pretty one who got away. He was adorable.”

Taehyung shook the memory away and lifted the toys again, determined to finish his story. He kneeled in front of you, leaning his forearms on your thighs for balance.

“After Asuka turned us both down, we were left filthy and heartbroken,” he continued. “Your shirt stained from the hamburger I threw at you and me covered in sticky strawberry milkshake. We made up in the parking lot and bought each other prizes from the bubble machine inside the lobby. Ironically, these were the prizes we got. I kept the burger and you kept the milkshake.”

He handed you the toys and you cradled them against your chest.

That was such a long time ago. My, how things have changed.

“Before we moved, we swapped toys,” he murmured, his voice thick with melancholy. “It was like our special soulmate talisman. I was you and you were me.”

You both looked at each other with misty eyes and failed to stifle the sniffles coming from your noses. The memory of your first real separation haunted both of you still. That day was agonizing for both of you, realizing that you may never be close to each other again. Almost two decades had passed and the wounds still felt so fresh. It only worsened when his parents moved back into town the year you and Taehyung left for college.

Oh, the irony…

“Oh, Tae,” you croaked. “I’m so sorry.”

You lurched forward and encircled his neck with your arms. He held you in his tender embrace and you both rode out the outpouring of emotion leaking from your faces. It dawned on you that neither of you ever really dealt with the separation, choosing to remain mute about the whole thing and pretend it never existed. In reality, it did exist, and it almost broke the both of you. Through carefully placed visits and outreach, you’d managed to keep the friendship bound haphazardly with metaphorical glue and tape, but it was never the same. You both had some real damage control to conduct, and maybe this was your opportunity to do so.

You pulled back and brushed your fingertips along Taehyung’s tear streaked cheeks and planted a fat kiss on his lips. Displays of affection were completely natural for the two of you, and it was established long ago that any emotional baggage that came along with it was just another piece of your soulmate bond.

“We’re both idiots,” you laughed against his lips. “You know that, right?”

Taehyung returned your laughter and your kiss, palming your cheeks to squish your face playfully.

“Come on,” he sighed. “Let’s get off the floor. I didn’t fly all the way over here to cry on the floor with my soulmate.”

You both huffed out a little laugh as you got up off the floor. You wandered back into the kitchen hand in hand after cleaning your faces with makeup wipes. Once you made it back to the box, Taehyung placed both hamburger and milkshake toys on the counter next to the box and proceeded to investigate the other items in the box. He lined up the other items next to your toys and then pulled out the folded piece of parchment. His interest was definitely piqued because you saw his eyes light up like flying saucers in the night sky.

“Whoa,” he breathed out in amazement. “What is this?”

He carefully unfolded the paper and spread it across the counter. You sat on one of your bar stools next to him and leaned on the counter. You hadn’t spent much time investigating the paper since the first day you discovered it.

“This is incredible,” he said, his voice heavy with excitement. “The parchment is well worn, which means it’s pretty old. Look at these colors, this calligraphy is amazing, and the brushstrokes are gorgeous. Where did you find this map, babe?”

“I already told you,” you repeated. “I don’t know where it came from. I found it in my closet. How do you know it’s a map?”

“It has all the characteristics of a map, the checkpoints, the layout, the design,” Taehyung explained. “Don’t you remember when I was collecting all those maps in junior high?”

“Oh yeah,” you drawled. “You became obsessed after we watched The Goonies and you were convinced that we would find treasure somehow.”

“Hey,” he insisted. “We found some really cool stuff with my Dad’s metal detector, remember?”

“Yeah,” you admitted. “We also found out about trespassing on private property and that it’s illegal to dig holes on government property and-.”

“Regardless,” Taehyung cut you off. “I know what I’m talking about and this map is really fucking cool. How are you not excited about this?”

“Honestly,” you sighed. “It kinda freaks me out. I don’t know who made it or where it came from and that bothers me.”

“Well, that’s why you have me, your own personal map expert and detective,” Taehyung bragged. “So, all of this random stuff was inside that box? There wasn’t anything else?”

“Well, almost everything,” you began. “There was a banana key chain USB, but it was Jungkook’s. He traded this four leaf clover necklace for it.”

You immediately regretted the words as soon as they left your lips. Taehyung’s face registered the name “Jungkook” as familiar, and you knew the instant he connected the dots.

“Oh shit,” he teased. “Jeon fucking Jungkook, that hot guy you tutored in college? That’s the stud you had over?! Damn, boy must be packing some heat!”

You buried your face in your arms and tried to hide from his incessant mockery.

Of course, he would remember.

“Stop,” you pleaded. “It was totally random and unplanned. I went out with Gina for St. Patty’s and I bumped into him at the bar. One thing lead to another and, well-“

“You had a midnight snack of Kookie and milk?” Taehyung suggested, lifting the clover. “You got lucky?”

You smacked his arm and he winced from the impact. You tried to stay mad at him, but his lips dropped to a pout and he started fake crying.

This boy…

“That isn’t going to work on me, Tae,” you said sternly. “Not gonna happen.”

His fake sobbing increased and he kept giving you the sad puppy dog look. When you saw an actual tear gloss over his cheek, you sighed and walked over to kiss his arm. He kept pouting until you finally gave in and kissed his lips. You both smiled at each other, and you rolled your eyes at your overly dramatic soulmate.

“Why does that always work on me?” you whined. “It isn’t fair.”

“What isn’t fair is that you traded a USB drive for this cheap plastic clover necklace,” Taehyung argued. “I mean it does light up, but it probably wasn’t an even exchange. Was the sex just that good?”

“If we’re factoring that into the equation,” you blushed fiercely. “Yes, it was most definitely an even exchange. In fact, I may owe him.”

“I am going to need a full detailed report later, babe,” Taehyung announced. “But for now, I want to talk about this map. Tell me what you know about it.”

“Not much,” you admitted. “I just know that there are seven smudges with words next to them and then there’s that big swirly heart thing connecting everything together.”

“Six smudges,” Taehyung corrected. “And why are some of these lines darker than the others?”

“What are you talking about?” you huffed. “I counted them. There are seven smudges.”

You finally took a closer look at the map and you gawked at the absence of one of the previous smudges from your earlier inspection.

What the hell?

“That can’t be right,” you whispered. “I know I counted seven.”

You pointed at the space where the first smudge had been. In its place was another block of text connected to the first block of text with a flourish of swirled ink. The text now read:

Were you wandering around looking for an erased dream too? It’s different from the typical definition of destiny. Your pained eyes are looking at the same place as me. Won't you please stay in dreams?

One time for the present, two time for the past, Happy that we met each other, now til’ the very end.

You traced your fingers over the new block of text and your brows furrowed in confusion.

That definitely wasn’t there before.

You also noticed the darkened line of ink running between the blocks of text. You traced its path across the page to the next block of text. This block read:

The heart no longer races when hearing the music play, Seems like time has stopped. Oh, that would be my first death I been always afraid of. If this can no longer resonate, No longer make my heart vibrate, Then like this may be how I die my first death, But what if that moment's right now?

The charcoal smudge was on the other side of the line, which abruptly faded as it neared the cryptic verse. You continued to trace the line across the page while Taehyung examined the lacquered box again.

“Hey, ttalgi,” Taehyung asked. “Why does this word have glitter around it but the others don’t?”

You looked up at him and focused on the word Time he was pointing out on the box. There was indeed a double line of purple glitter surrounding the letters that certainly wasn’t there before. You sighed in exasperation at this new information.

What the hell am I getting myself into with this box and this map?

“I don’t know, Tae,” you sulked. “It probably doesn’t mean anything.”

“How can you say that when something belonging to Jungkook and something belonging to me came out of it?” Tae quirked. “You’re doing that thing where something gets complicated and you just want to walk away, aren’t you? This is the Chinese puzzle box all over again.”

“Tae,” you whined. “Please don’t bring that up again. I was tortured enough with you hovering over me until I opened the stupid thing.”

“It was worth it though, right?” he insisted. “What was inside the puzzle box, baby?”

“This,” you pouted, holding up your right hand. “My soulmate promise ring and I’ve worn it every day since then.”

“Maybe this map is going to lead to something amazing,” Taehyung suggested. “I’m already invested in solving this mystery. I just need a trusty sidekick to help me along the way. What do you say, soulmate? Want to help your Tae-bear solve the Legendary Spring Break Map Mystery?”

“Why does everything you name have to be named like that?” you scoffed. “Naming something Great or Legendary doesn’t automatically make it awesome, y’know?”

“Well, not with that attitude,” Taehyung argued. “If you want, I can lay everything out so it isn’t so scary for you. It’ll be just like the detectives on TV with the boards and the Post-Its and stuff. You don’t have to set anything up, I’ll do it and then you can decide whether you are in or not.”

You briefly weighed your options and decided that any adventure with Taehyung was worth exploring. It wasn’t like you had anything else to do during this break, and you couldn’t deny that the map wasn’t igniting your curiosity. Apparently, Taehyung’s enthusiasm was taking root in your mind.

“Fine,” you sighed out dramatically. “But if this ends up going badly, I’m going to beat your ass.”

Taehyung squeaked enthusiastically and started setting up an investigation station on your coffee table. After he procured paper, pencils, and other office supplies from your desk, he laid everything out and started marking items of interest with colorful Post-It notes.

“What am I supposed to do while you’re playing Detective, Tae?” you asked indignantly. “Just sit here and look pretty?”

Taehyung looked up with a marker and a stack of purple Post-Its in his hands. He grinned and wrote something on the Post-It and walked over to place it on your forehead.

“There,” he beamed. “Now, you’re officially part of the investigation. Now, make yourself useful, dollface, and get me something to drink.”

You removed the paper from your forehead and read what he’d written and immediately scowled. You crumpled the paper and threw it at his retreating figure.

“I’m not your secretary, Taehyung,” you growled. “And call me dollface again and not only will I make you a pot of tea, I’ll pour it in your lap.”

Taehyung giggled and scrunched his nose at you while he attached the map to the wall with thumbtacks. You watched him scurry back and forth, continuously making notes and labeling portions of the map, and you shook your head and sighed heavily.

What am I getting myself into?

March 19th, 3:27pm

“Ok, it’s ready,” Taehyung announced. “Come check it out, babe!”

Taehyung swept his hand across the living room and presented a color coordinated layout of seven different investigation stations. You tried to track his organization, but got a little lost as your eyes scanned the living room.

“Ummm,” you began. “What exactly am I looking at here, Tae? You need to explain the method behind this madness I see.”

“It starts over here,” Taehyung proceeded to explain, pulling you to the far left of the room to a purple hued collection of Post-It notes. “I’ve divided up the map into seven distinct sections and separated them by color. I think the items you found correspond to these sections, but I don’t know how yet.”

“What makes you think they have any connection at all?” you queried. “Did you find something else?”

“No,” Taehyung continued. “But there are seven different sections on the map, seven different items, and seven different words on that box. That has to mean something. The words also seem to coordinate somehow. That section with two blocks of text mentions time and the word Time on the box is the only word with glitter. That seems to be a connection.”

“Ok, but what about the items?” you challenged. “How are they connected?”

Taehyung lifted a finger and started to speak, but then deflated. He put one hand on his hip and blew out a breath. He was stuck.

“I haven’t figured that out yet,” he admitted. “I was hoping you could help me with that.”

“How?” you wondered aloud. “I know about as much as you do about this stuff.”

“Well,” he began. “You said that the only item missing from the original collection was that banana USB, right?”

“Yeah, but it was Jungkook’s,” you reminded him. “He took it and gave me that shamrock necklace. What about it?”

“I think that’s a clue,” he decided. “I also found my hamburger toy in there, and I’m trading back for the milkshake toy. That’s two items from the original set that are being traded out for something in return.”

You rolled that around your brain and found that it surprisingly made sense, even if it was a little far-fetched.

It can’t just be a coincidence.

“Say they are connected somehow,” you relented. “What would be the connection?”

“I have a theory,” Taehyung expressed with a smirk. “But I need you to go along with it because it sounds a little nuts.”

“You know I always give in to your crazy schemes, Tae,” you chuckled. “Why would this be any different?”

“Good point,” he grinned. “Ok, so, here’s the thing. I think you are the key to all of this. The box, the map, the items, everything.”

You stare at him without blinking and slowly digest his statement.

That’s impossible.

“How could I be the connection?” you probed. “I didn’t make this box or the map and none of this stuff belongs to me.”

“Exactly,” Taehyung reiterated. “They don’t belong to you, but they are connected to something that does belong to you.”

“What do you mean?” you continued. “Is this about the hamburger toy?”

“Yes,” he exclaimed. “And also the USB you found. You said it belonged to Jungkook, right? He gave you the shamrock necklace in trade and now that’s part of the collection, but it actually belongs to you now.”

“Yeah,” you assented. “But what does that mean, Tae?”

“Maybe it’s symbolic?” Taehyung suggested. “Like you two had to make the exchange so it could be complete?”

“What exchange?” you asked. “You mean the banana or the sex?”

“Both,” Taehyung insisted. “Two things could be true. You guys traded information and bodily fluids. Bet you’d both been thinking about doing that since college, huh?”

“Yeah, actually,” you giggled. “We just never found the right time.”

“Time!” Taehyung screeched suddenly. “That’s it!”

He reached over to grab the box and he pointed out the word Time on the box surrounded by purple glitter.

“Time,” you echoed softly. “You’re right. Jungkook and I even talked about how often we kept missing opportunities because the timing was never in our favor.”

“Well, time was absolutely in your favor when you ran into each other at the bar,” Taehyung insisted. “You said it yourself: unplanned and random, almost like it was-“

“Destiny,” you cut him off, moving to reread the text in question. “We had been dreaming about each other, looking at the same things, all those unanswered questions finally answered.”

“You told me that this wasn’t here earlier,” Taehyung stated, pointing at the second block of text he’d marked with a purple Post-It marked with a JK. “It’s here now. I think this text, this word on the box, and the shamrock-banana exchange are all connected to you and Jungkook. It all makes sense.”

“But why?” you murmured softly. “For what reason?”

“Let me ask you something,” Taehyung said, sitting you both down on the couch. “After all of this happened with Jungkook, how do you feel?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I mean, I thought it might lead somewhere, but he said he’s not ready for anything serious right now.”

“Not the right time?” Taehyung smirked. “And yet, you aren’t crushed by this shocking news. Why do you think that is?”

“I get it,” you explained. “I’ve been there before. Remember when I was dating Hoseok? I felt the same way, I wasn’t ready for something that serious even though he was. That’s why we ended it.”

“Oh yeah, Hobi-hyung,” Taehyung remembered fondly. “I liked that guy. It’s too bad that didn’t work out. You were so happy with him.”

“I was,” you sighed. “But I was young and selfish. I wasn’t ready to share my life with anyone yet.”

“And neither is Jungkook,” Taehyung pressed on. “Do you still have any lingering doubts about what might have been with him? I know that’s been bothering you for years. Don’t think I didn’t notice all those wispy sighs and pouts whenever his name entered the conversation. I don’t see any of that now though. Maybe you finally got the closure you needed with Jungkook.”

“Yeah, I did,” you smiled softly, grabbing the shamrock necklace labeled Exhibit A from the table. “I just got lucky, I guess.”

“In more ways than one, you minx,” Taehyung teased. “But you can tell me all about that later because I have another theory to toss at you.”

Taehyung pulled you over to a collection of green Post-Its and pointed out the hamburger and milkshake toys labeled “Exhibits B & C.” You nearly choked on the giggle threatening to escape from your lips, but you offered your soulmate a reassuring smile instead.

“If the purple section is Jungkook,” Taehyung began. “Then this green section is all about you and me. The toys fit into that theory, but I don’t know which word and block of text connect to them.”

“Assuming that’s true,” you retorted. “What unfinished business could you and I possibly have? I mean, we literally share everything with one another. We don’t have any secrets, Tae-bear.”

“That’s true,” he agreed. “But maybe we’re overlooking something. I’m trying to figure out which block of text would best describe us, and I can’t figure it out. It certainly isn’t the next one on the path.”

He pointed out the second block of text following the section he’d labeled JK. The words “music” and “death” kept swirling in your vision, and you felt a creeping tingle down your spine.

There’s only one person that could be.

Your phone dinged across the room, and you snapped out of your reverie momentarily. Leaving Taehyung to ruminate over the cryptic clues laid out before him, you picked up your phone and read the email notification you’d just received from work. As soon as you read the Subject line, you gasped and dropped your phone on the floor. The clatter captured Taehyung’s attention and he glanced up at your face and noticed the drain of color on your paled expression.

“Ttalgi?” he worried. “Is everything ok?”

You shook your head and tried to keep the tears from slipping from your eyes. Taehyung quickly made his way across the room and pulled you into his arms, trying to soothe the unknown pain away. He didn’t know what was going on, but he instinctively knew that you needed someone to hold you together.

“What happened?” he whispered against your hair. “What’s wrong?”

“I know who it is,” you croaked out. “I know who that block of text is talking about.”

You leaned down to pick up your phone and you showed him the email you’d just received. Taehyung’s eyes widened and then darkened considerably when he read it. He couldn’t control the growl which clawed its way out of his throat.

“Min fucking Yoongi.”

Author’s Note: The plot is thickening, y’all. What do you guys think of my Tae-bear? Isn’t he something else? The story is really going to take off from here, so I hope everyone is ready for an adventure. Please fee free to ask me any questions or leave any comments. I’d love to hear what you think of the story so far.

Chapter One: There’s Always Time for Euphoria

Chapter Three: The Beautiful Music We Used to Make

Map of the Soul Masterlist

@caught-in-a-seesaw-stigma‘s MASTERLIST

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claymorexpunisher · 1 year

Text

Poppin the Question (Ch. 5/10)(Werewolf!The Shield) (18+ Ship Fic) (Repost)

Summary: Jon and Seth have a proposition for Roman. One that throws him in for a loop … (this fic was first posted in 2018. I can’t believe.)

Tags: 18+, M/M, smut, fluff, angst, angst with a happy ending, hair-pulling, hair kink, Daddy kink, name-calling.

Word Count: 17,916

A few months later, the boys and the rest of the RAW roster were gearing up for WrestleMania.

And Roman, being the winner of that year's Royal Rumble, was both annoyed and excited that he once again was going up against Vince's first-born golden child, Brock Lesnar.

The fans were also pretty excited at the prospect of having a new and fighting champion as well.

It had been 5 months to be exact. And it had been just as long since that night in the woods.

Roman, Seth and Jon never talked about that night. The boys themselves were on good terms, however. They were talking, joking and just being best friends again.

But no matter how much he tried, Roman just couldn't shake the guilt that he's felt all this time.

He knew Jon was right.

He knew he had every right to move on with his life, and to have fun again.

After all, it was Alexis who ended it.

But…there was something else he wasn't telling the boys.

While Roman was an alpha he had a bit of a submissive streak.

Even the fans picked up on it sometimes while he was doing something as innocent as sparring against someone, or even interacting with his boys.

And while Alexis started off being supportive and tried to indulge him whenever she could, it ended up taking a huge toll on their marriage.

She never belittled him for it, though.

She never made him feel less than because he was an alpha who just so happened to enjoy being cuddled, fucked and told he was good after a hard day's work.

Or that he did his best, and that that was enough.

But she just wasn't satisfied and Roman didn't fault her for ending things.

Alexis knew he swung both ways.

And she knew that he found both Seth and Jon attractive, and she was okay with that.

She trusted him and she knew he wouldn't fool around with anyone outside of their marriage, much less with people so close to them both.

Some people would view their past relationship as a little more than unconventional, but Roman appreciated how open and accepting she was when it came to who he was, at least in that regard.

And he appreciated being able to talk to her about that kinda thing.

But he just couldn't stop thinking about the whole encounter.

And after tonight, unbeknownst to Roman, he was going to be feeling way worse and confused.

Roman was deep in his thoughts when Jon found him and slung his arm over his shoulder.

''How's it goin', champ?'' Jon drawled with a smirk.

Roman couldn't help but chuckle in amusement as he locked eyes with Jon.

'Hol' up now. I'm not champ just yet, babe.'' Roman laughed, only to get a playful eye roll in response.

''Don't roll your eyes at me, Mox.'' Roman growled equally as playful.

Both men started aggressively rolling on the ground, their bared canines snapping until Seth, overhearing the conversation, found them and cut in with a laugh.

''Alright, enough you two. You got this in the bag, Big Guy.'' Seth remarked as he joined the duo and sat on the bench that the pair once occupied.

Roman ducked his head a little at the compliment as he and Jon dusted themselves off and got up off the floor, and he shot both men a grateful grin.

''We'll see.'' He conceded.

Jon gave Roman a gentle and affectionate head butt and chuckled, ridiculously endeared.

''So modest.'' Ruffling Roman's wet hair, Jon joined Seth on the bench. ''I just wish I didn't have to do this shit all over again with Brock, man…'' Roman flashed them an irritated look as he took a generous swig from his near frozen water bottle.

Both Jon and Seth understood where Roman was coming from.

They couldn't count how many times they were shoved into the same boring feuds with the same people every week without any real payoff.

But they felt especially bad for Roman because Brock was nowhere near a deserving opponent.

''I know, bro.'' Seth said, his tone full of sympathy.

Leaning against Seth, Jon eyed Roman's tense back.

''Tonight's your lucky night, Uce. I can feel it.''

Roman dumped his now empty water bottle in the trash bin and ran his fingers through his hair.

''Let's just hope it's a decent match at least.'' Roman sighed, leaving Jon and Seth alone with their thoughts as Roman got called for his match.

---

The match that night left Roman both exhausted-emotionally and physically, but also absolutely elated.

Finally, he was Universal Champion.

Finally, they no longer had to deal with Brock…well, that was until the powers that be decided otherwise.

Still, all Roman wanted to do was go to the hotel and sleep the night off. But Jon and Seth had other plans.

''Congrats, Big Dog.'' Seth smiled at the exhausted man.

''Thank you, thank you.'' Roman smiled back tiredly, adjusting the title up over his shoulder.

Roman laughed a little painfully as he felt Jon plaster himself onto his aching back.

"'We goin' out to celebrate?'' Jon bounced excitedly against Roman's back making him laugh again.

But Jon's brow furrowed when he felt more than heard Roman's tired sigh.

''We are gonna celebrate…aren't we?'' Jon raised a ginger brow as Roman shrugged, wrinkling his nose in distaste at the mere thought of going anywhere except to his hotel room for the night.

''…Fine. You're the champ, so you decide how we celebrate.'' Jon conceded.

Roman sighed once again, this time in fond exasperation.

''I honestly just wanna sleep, man… Maybe we can do something tomorrow night after RAW…?'' Roman offered, but Jon was having none of it.

''Cmon, man- look, tell ya what. Why don't we crash together- like old times! Huh? Crack open a beer or two…or three?'' Jon laughed, the two men joining in.

Slinging his arm around Roman, Jon ruffled his dark hair, smiling encouragingly.

Roman reluctantly nodded, smiling fondly at the small yip released by the ginger. -------

Not even 2 hours later Roman, Seth and Jon piled up in bed to sleep after knocking back a couple beers.

Well, all except Roman.

With all his exhaustion, Roman couldn't for the life of him get some sleep.

Where he was going, Roman didn't know.

But he just needed to get out of that room and gather his thoughts.

But his actions were interrupted by a sleepy voice coming from the bed behind him.

''Going somewhere, Ro?'' Jon asked gruffly. His eyes peered curiously up at Roman from where he rested against Seth's stomach.

''Yeah. Going for a run maybe, I dunno.'' Roman shrugged, still facing the door.

''Thought you were exhausted.''

Roman groaned irritably as he caught Jon’s suspicious and borderline icy tone, and he rolled his eyes before he turned around to face the ginger.

''I'll be back, alright? Relax.'' He replied, raising his voice an octave, causing Seth's body to give a small jolt even in his deep beer-induced slumber.

Roman bristled with jealousy as he watched Jon run his fingers through Seth's curls soothingly.

He wasn't jealous of Seth, really…. He wasn't.

And the last thing he wanted was for them to go back to square one but, he just didn't know how to voice his thoughts and fears to either of his friends.

He was their pack leader.

The strong one.

The one they turned to when they needed to.

The one who kept them in check, kept them in line. He knew they trusted him with their lives and vice versa, but he just couldn't trust them this time.

Not with this.

Not when his brain was constantly muddled with these conflicting feelings since that night in the woods- hell, ever since he could remember.

''What the hell's your problem, man?'' Jon whispered harshly, not wanting to disturb Seth again.

''Aren't I supposed to be the bratty one of this group? What's your deal?'' Jon finally stood up and he crossed his arms over his chest.

Roman scoffed dryly, shrugging his shoulders.

''That's just it, isn't it?'' He remarked.

Roman's hands played with the drawstring of his sweatpants simply for something to do.

As he looked down at his pants, he didn't see Jon’s brow furrow in confusion.

''What are you talkin about, Ro?'' Jon exclaimed. His frustrations were beginning to escalate.

''Just forget it, Jon.'' Roman sighed, shaking his head and not wanting to get into this.

He got the shock of his life when he was met with Jon’s furious blue eyes and his hand firmly gripped Roman's chin.

Roman shrugged the hand off roughly, snarling softly under his breath.

''No. I will not forget it, Roman.'' Jon growled.

''Jon, I'm warning y-'' Roman started, only for Jon to interrupt.

''Oh, we're startin' that ''my dick is bigger than yours'' alpha bullshit again, are we?''

Seth woke up alarmed to see Roman and Jon scuffling on the ground for the second time that day, only this time the growls and snarls he heard coming from them were anything but playful.

He stood up and immediately pulled both men apart.

''Are we really doing this again?'' Seth looked between Roman and Jon who were glaring daggers at one another.

This wasn't exactly how he planned to spend the evening after having a few drinks with his boys and some much-needed RnR.

He shoved Jon back when he lunged for Roman again, clearly fired up for whatever reason unknown to Seth.

''Okay. Both of you, calm down! Jeez…what happened now?'' Seth continued to glance between them, waiting for an explanation, when Jon finally exploded.

''He's doin' it again, man!'' Jon pointed at Roman in an accusatory tone to which Roman responded with a glare of his own.

''Seriously, dude? You are such a child, dawg!'' Roman sneered.

Then he moved toward the door again and rested his forehead against it when he was stopped once again, this time by Seth's hand on his shoulder.

His eyes flashed angrily when Jon spat his next words, more so speaking at Roman than to him.

''I'm a fuckin child for wantin' to know you're okay? For wantin to fuckin help you!?'' Jon bellowed, shrugging off Seth's calming hand as it came to rest on the back of his neck in the placating way the three of them always did when either one was stressed or fired up.

'''Hey.'' Seth said. ''Lower your voices, guys. We don't want security coming.''

''Fuck that!'' Jon roared, being shushed loudly by Seth as a result.

''No! I'm sick o' his shit! We're your best friends! Your pack! It's our job to know if somethin's wrong, you prick!'' Jon spat out again.

However, Roman didn't take the bait. Instead, he gave Seth a dry look. ''I honestly don't know how I dealt with his ass when we got split up.''

Seth blinked at that.

He was more than a little shocked by Roman's comment and he felt Jon flinch slightly due to their close proximity.

Seth watched as Jon then just quietly moved toward the bed, hooking one ankle over the other once he laid down.

Jon didn't look at either of them.

Seth couldn't even begin to understand what was going on with Roman.

He never spoke this way to anyone, ever- much less to Jon- unless they genuinely deserved it.

''Dude, what is up with you-'' Seth clamped his mouth shut when Roman flashed his now bright yellow and angry eyes at him, the wild look in them started to make Seth nervous.

They stayed that way until Roman caught sight of the wounded look on Jon’s face that the ginger quickly tried to hide.

''Babe…I'm sorry. You know I didn't mean that…'' Roman slid into the spot on the bed next to Jon and he ran one of his large hands smoothly over the other man's buzzed cut head, biting back a sigh of disappointment when he was met with no response.

He tried to hold Jon’s face only to be shoved away.

''Nah. Don't worry bout it, Ro..'' Jon shrugged, feigning a nonchalant attitude.

''Just go. You're right, you don't owe me nothin'.'' Jon shrugged again.

''It's cool.''

''…Can I show you guys something?'' Roman asked shyly.

His palms began to sweat. He couldn't believe he was about to do this, but he knew he had to.

He wasn't gonna lose them again out of fear.

Or out of shame.

He was going to be honest with them like they deserved, no matter the outcome.

He had to trust in them.

He did trust them.

Roman nervously reached for his phone that he had placed on the bedside table.

''We've seen it already, Ro. 'member?'' Jon quipped like a smart ass, unable to help himself.

''Don't be a dick, Mox.'' Roman replied.

Jon was about to make another smart-assed comment, until he noticed the slight tremble in Roman's hands.

''Okay, I'm sorry.'' He made his point by affectionately squeezing the back of Roman's neck.

He and Seth watched as Roman fiddled with his phone, until he pulled up a video.

And on that video, a well-built man- about Roman's size, give or take- laid at another equally well-built man's feet.

Roman didn't dare look either Seth nor Jon in the eye.

And he didn't know if their silence was something he was grateful for or not.

''Rome…'' Seth started to speak but he cut himself off when the man on the video motioned for the black-haired man on the ground to unbuckle his top's jeans.

Once the man's cock was exposed, the black-haired man took the shaft into his hand and he gave the head a few small kitten-like licks and he stroked it slowly as his top showered him with praise.

Before the video could go on, Roman shut it off and tossed his phone onto the bed as if it were a ticking time bomb.

''This was a mistake…'' Roman said in a quivering voice.

He strode over to the door, ready to bolt again.

''C'mon, man. Stop running.'' Jon implored, his tone void of the malice and anger from earlier. All that was left was frustration and sadness.

Roman held the knob in his hand so tight that Jon had to pry his fingers off of it.

He sighed in defeat and followed Jon back to the bed with Seth sitting to his left.

''Get on your knees, Ro.'' Jon was the one to fill the silence as it began to consume the room.

He gave Roman an expectant look and it was returned with a blank expression from the Samoan.

Jon rolled his eyes at Roman's hesitance.

''Cmon, Ro. I need my cock sucked and you need to be told you're a good boy.'' Jon replied casually, not missing the sharp intake of breath from Roman.

''I-I don't think so, man…'' Roman stuttered.

Jon leaned forward with his elbows resting against his knees.

''So, what? You're just gonna keep it all bottled up inside and keep bein' a dick to us instead?''

''Oh, because you're such an expert at sharing your feelings,'' Roman snapped.

But Jon was unbothered because he knew Roman was just lashing out at him out of pure fear and nervousness.

Instead, Jon rubbed a hand down his own face, and he tried to calm Roman down.

''You'd do this for me, right?''

''Thanks, but I don't need the charity.''

Roman scoffed as he rolled his neck slowly when Jon let out a loud groan.

''Dude, it's not charity!'' Jon was going to go on but instead, he pulled Roman into a heated kiss, taking advantage of Roman's surprised gasp to expertly lick into the man's mouth.

Then he pulled away, panting hard and his mouth glistening.

Rather than press him, Jon beckoned Seth in front of him.

''…Okay then. Get on your knees, Seth.'' Jon commanded, and he smiled when Seth got on his knees in front of him without objections, to Roman's utter shock.

''Good boy.'' And with that, Jon stood up to unbuckle his jeans, batting Seth's impatient hands away with a mild scowl.

''Did I say you could touch?'' He asked firmly, even though Seth's eagerness made his cock stir in his jeans, and Roman wasn't too far behind.

The latter of the three grabbed one of the pillows on the bed and he laid it across his lap over his raging erection as he watched his two best friends.

''Did I say you could touch?'' Jon asked again, punctuating his words with a firm tug to Seth's curls until Seth responded.

''I-I'm sorry, Sir…'' Seth whimpered, sighing when Jon loosened his grip, and he ran his blunt fingernails over Seth's scalp in silent praise.

Seth watched patiently as Jon continued to remove his own clothes.

Once that was done, Jon motioned to Seth's clothes, and he gave him a single command.

''Off. Now.''

''Yes, Si-'' Seth went to respond before being cut off by Roman's soft rumbling voice.

''Can I do it?'' Roman asked as he looked Seth straight in the eye hungrily, making the raven-haired man smirk.

''What?'' Jon raised a brow as he watched Roman's aroused yet still tentative features carefully.

He laid on his side and cupped Roman's chin to make Roman look at him. ''You wanna undress 'im?''

Roman nodded jerkily and he cleared his throat to respond properly.

''Yes, Sir.”

Roman sighed once those two words came out of his mouth.

The words felt so right as he said them.

He practically purred in delight when this time his scalp was scratched lightly by Jon, who nodded his approval.

''Okay. Go 'head.''

Jon sat back and watched Roman undress Seth, while giving his own cock a few firm tugs.

Eyeing Roman intently, he knew the man was nervous.

Almost like he was measuring his movements, expecting Jon to correct him at any second.

In an attempt to soothe Roman's nerves, Jon sat up and kissed a patch of skin on Roman's shoulder that was peeking from his tank top.

''It's okay, Ro. Seth knows what I expect of him. You don't. Let's just relax and have some fun, alright? It's just us.''

Kissing that spot on Roman's shoulder again, he stayed sitting at the edge of the bed, and he flashed Seth a dimply and devilish smirk when they both could tell that Roman was starting to relax.

''Fuck...'' Seth gasped, smirking down at Roman through hazy eyes.

Roman returned the smile and he began to breathe through his nose to take Seth further down his throat, making him and Jon groan.

Jon’s hand began to pump his own cock faster, growing impossibly harder as Roman pulled his mouth away from Seth's cock to ask,

''You missed my mouth on you, Seth?'' Roman asked with a seductive smirk. Roman's full lips glistened sinfully with spit and precum as he looked into Seth's chocolate brown eyes that began to shine with pleasure.

All Seth could do was release a deep, guttural groan and he nodded enthusiastically as Roman's mouth sank down onto him once again.

Resting his head against the sheets, Seth turned his head, and he aimed that same lustful smirk at Jon who watched the scene intently.

''Seems like we're not the only ones enjoying ourselves.'' He laughed.

''You like watching us, Sir?'' Seth purred.

''You like watching him suck me off- fuck...! He's so good at that...'' Seth grunted through clenched teeth.

Seth threw his head back against the sheets and he released Roman's hair from the bun that the man pretty much always sported after shows or on his downtime, and he carded his fingers through the strands then he fisted it into his hand as Roman brought him closer and closer to the edge.

''I know we've done this before but...shit,'' Seth chuckled breathlessly.

''I didn't know you were this good of a cock slut, Ro.'' He praised and let his eyes flutter shut in pleasure.

At the sound, Seth's eyes reopened, and he looked into Roman's glassy brown eyes that now looked more like a stunning bronze as the wolf in him struggled to contain itself.

''Oh really?” Seth grinned wickedly. ''You like that, Ro?'' Seth cooed seductively.

''You need this, uh? You need to have your mouth filled with a big hard cock. Hm?'' He continued filthily.

Roman couldn't believe his luck.

If he weren't so focused on bringing pleasure to Seth, he'd pinch himself right now.

And he'd beat himself up for being so stupid.

Of course, Jon and Seth understood him and tried their hardest to indulge his needs.

Of course.

Roman replied with a sharp nod as he swirled his velvety tongue along the head of Seth's cock.

''Yeah. Thought so.'' Seth quipped.

Both men were so engrossed in their activities, that they missed the moment Jon stood up to grab the small bottle of lube he always kept in his carry-on bag.

Roman struggled to not let out a whimper of disappointment when he felt Jon shake him by the shoulder slightly.

''Oh, you don't wanna get fucked? Okay, my mistake.'' Jon lifted his hands, trying to keep a straight face as he made to put the bottle back in its original place.

Seth and Jon burst into laughter as Roman hurriedly stood up to grab Jon to try and stop him.

''No.'' Roman stuttered.

''No?'' Jon raised a brow.

''I mean- fuck me.'' Roman tried again as his cheeks burned in embarrassment or arousal-both, maybe.

After the three of them got themselves fully undressed, Seth and Jon settled Roman onto the bed.

Seth was in charge of keeping Roman as relaxed as possible while Jon stretched him open gently.

Before too long the Samoan's hips tried their damnedest to match the delicious rhythm of Jon’s fingers.

His moans escalated when he felt Seth's large hand firmly wrap itself around his throat as the man whispered filth into his ear.

''You want it?'' Seth whispered huskily.

His lips took their time to nibble and suck on the hot skin of Roman's neck before moving back up to his ear to whisper more filth.

''I might get in there after Mox.'' Seth chuckled huskily, playfully biting Roman's scruffy chin.

Eventually, Jon slowly withdrew his fingers, deeming Roman ready for him.

As he slowly entered Roman, Jon let him gradually adjust to his girth.

After a little while, he started to move his hips a little faster, gripping Roman's hips tightly for leverage.

''How's that?'' Jon breathed.

All Roman could do was moan in response and roll his hips even more enthusiastically against Jon’s.

He clawed at Jon’s forearms as the sensations of Jon thrusting into him and Seth whispering and mouthing against him overwhelmed him.

His body felt like it was on fire in the most delicious way possible.

''Don't stop...! Please...'' Roman whimpered.

Their golden eyes locked as their bodies moved in unison.

Roman's eyes lost focus on Jon’s as he felt the head of Jon’s cock brush up against that bundle of nerves.

''Oh, that's the spot, is it? S' that feel good? Look at you taking me like a good little cockwhore.'' Jon’s words came out slurred as his thrusts continued.

''I think you can do better than that, Sir.'' Roman smirked. ''Harder.'' Roman commanded.