description: aerion doesn't have enough physical strength for dominance after the trial of seven. you take an opportunity to return some of the fire he so often burns you with. a constant back and forth between giving in and fighting to maintain who he is.
tags: dub con, 4ced subm, 4ced fem, ruined org, blood, pnv, aerion loses a tooth, sprinkle of dragon rp, wound play, mean reader
wc: 2.8k
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[fic found here]
i tried everything for this fic to appear under the tags but this website wins !
description: aerion doesn’t have enough physical strength after the trial of seven . you take an opportunity to return some of the fire he so often burns you with. a constant back and forth between giving in and fighting to maintain who he is.
tags: dub con, 4ced subm, 4ced fem, ruined org, blood, pnv, aerion loses a tooth, sprinkle of dragon rp, wound play, mean reader
wc: 2.8k
a/n: honestly i just wanted to hurt him and write in a formal tone. finally got my idea -> final draft time down from 6 months to like 1.5 !
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“standing” is a strong word to describe aerion’s state as he entered his chambers. dragging, more like. he’s dragging himself into the room. his eyes blur with blood that oozes from unknown places. his face and mouth throb with every beat of his heart, his body is in too global of pain to name.
he hunts for your presence within the dark room. initially, you do not acknowledge him. you ignore his ragged breaths and the sounds of his feet dragging on the cold ground. pretend not to notice the room filling with the stench of filth that radiates from him. he meets you where you stand at the desk in the corner of the room, attempting to cage you against the hard wood. wounded dignity forces the muscles in his neck to lift his head to face you. the attempt is fruitless, his feet stumble against the floor when you reverse your positions. every ounce of indignation he can manage to muster within himself is displayed on his face.
“oh my prince, what has he done to you?” you say with gentle fingers caressing the sensitive flesh of his lip. his nostrils flare as the split speckles with blood. this is the softness to which he has become accustomed, and it begins to melt only the edges of his hardened expression. he cannot see past his own pride to your deception. your hand that suddenly grasps his jaw is of the opposite nature. the cuts and infantile bruises beginning to form on his cheek throb between your fingers, his face molding like torn putty in your hands. you say nothing. his lips are robbed of the expected kiss when you reach through his arms and nestle yourself in his neck. a deep breath through your nose brings goosebumps down his back. aerion smells of bodily fluid and disgrace. it is as if his body cannot contain it all and his pores have opened to proclaim his weakness. anger and confusion fight within him for control as his expression transitions back to one of neutrality to disguise the pain.
a quiet whimper escapes him when you finally grant him his kiss. it is a kiss laced with so much fervor you begin to wonder if he believes it will be his last. the metal restricts his hands from properly exploring your body, making the only part of you he can make contact with your lips. his lips move against yours like a man deprived of intimacy for years, not hours.
the kiss is not his to lead, though he fights for dominance. your hands find the back of his hair to hold him still, to ensure he cannot run. your tongue breaches his mouth first, searching for the spring of blood that causes his mouth to fill. at first contact, he almost bites your tongue off. he’s twitching, panicking into your mouth as his lips continue to fight against yours. continue to fight the sharpness of the tooth settling after every swipe of the wet muscle against it. somewhere in the push and pull the tooth is plucked from its socket. his hand grips your arm with all of the strength he can gather, the claws of his gauntlets making impressions in your skin. the metallic taste of blood grows stronger on your tongue as his tooth disturbingly clicks around in your mouth. your mouth, one of full teeth, taunts him with his own imperfection.
“a shit knight. a terrible son, a ‘dragon,’” you goad. the final words being marked with a sarcastic bend of your fingers. “open your mouth, i ought to return what belongs to you…a token of your failures.”
he winces as the hands resting in his hair pull at him by the fistful.
“i am still your dragon,” he spits with barely open eyes.
“are you? bare your teeth for me, dragon, if you are the beast you claim to be.”
he feels almost feverish. an attempt to wrench himself from your grasp is returned with an even tighter grip on his hair. his head pounds too much to properly best you. his face burns to an even hotter degree when he realizes cannot overpower you. against everything that he is, he has almost no bite.
aerion feels only self-disgust as he shows his blood-covered teeth, the newly lost one just barely in view. the humiliation shows itself on his scarlet cheeks.
his subservience is commanded in the common tongue . a simple “serve” accompanied by a firm press to his shoulders to truly bring him to his knees. it is yet another fist of dirt thrown upon his proclaimed dragon kinship.
“i would sooner take my own life.” bitter words meant to fight for him fall on deaf ears.
his eyes remain at your feet.
two of your fingers reach down and brush his lips. he knows of the defilement you intend and clenches his jaw shut. your thumb joins the fight, pressing where you know the tissue has not yet hardened in the absence of his tooth. it is enough. his mouth parts despite his will. blood-tinted saliva covers your fingers as you wrench his mouth open.
you spare him no kindness when spitting the tooth. he gags at the feeling of it landing on the back of his tongue. his hands, still covered in armor, cannot aid him in retrieving it. he paws helplessly at his own lips, unable to end the discomfort. despite his aggressive coughs, the tooth remains lodged. the swallow is not an easy one. it feels as though the tooth grew claws to scratch him on its path down his throat.
he breaks the eye contact he’d been keeping with the ground between your feet. a darkness like you’ve never seen thrives in his eyes. he appears as though the lights have gone out. your hand grasps the lamp behind you, slowly dragging it to the edge of the desk. bringing it as close to his face as possible, you search for the fire in his eyes. for a sign of the source of his immorality. when the flames finally reflect in the blue of his eyes, you extinguish the lamp.
he whimpers like the wounded animal he is. his body is heavy. the armor seems to have doubled its weight since the trial of seven began.
the position he finds himself in is unfamiliar. exerting his power, his strength, over others is as subconscious for him as breathing. the body beneath him betrays him. his coughed-out words are soft, his body cannot maintain its strength. all that remains to him is you, his wife, who will not pass up the opportunity to lord over him.
you take a few steps back, walking toward the bed facing him, never breaking eye contact. he crawls on hand and knee to reach you, not trusting his legs. it is a painfully slow pursuit. his right leg barely bends and the floor seems mobile. he appears to hold his breath the entire way, fearful of what more pathetic sounds may leave it. the sound of his dragon armor scratching against the floor sickens him.
“bare your pain to me, show me the dragon beneath the skin,” you whisper at him from your seat on the bed.
he stumbles to his knees to begin a deeply unceremonious removal of his coverings. he receives only silence from you as you watch him struggle to separate cloth from dried blood. each injury feels reborn. with every movement the metal presses against his fresh bruises.
warmth has deserted the room. he limps onto the bed to escape the palpable ravenousness radiating from you. a needless pursuit, as you can see him better laid across the sheets. your eyes rake over him, taking in every imperfection. every rip in his skin. every drop of blood. a hand begins to reach toward his thigh. his leg jerks away from you instinctively, what’s left of his consciousness attempting to hide the gaping sword wound from your cruelty. you grasp his legs and force them open.
“it seems they’ve made the prince a princess. is that what you are now? what’s your name, princess?” you speak above him as your fingers pull at his hair.
“br-brightflame,” he says to remind himself more than to you. his mind drifts the power the name had when he was announced. it feels absent now.
your fingers once again gather saliva in his mouth, feeling the tensing of his throat as you push further in.
“i can take you like one.”
he swallows fearfully around your fingers. his heart hammers out of his chest when he feels your hands lifting his leg, exposing his untouched hole to you. the gash on his leg screams as it stretches.
“would that please you? shall i make you moan around my fingers like a common whore?,” you ask as your hand palms his ass.
“n-,” the word dies on his lips as your fingers reach his entrance. he begins to shake beneath you, lips pressed tightly together. fighting a smile, you withdraw your hand. the exhale that leaves him is all too hopeful.
aerion gasps at the tingle of your other hand beginning to circle the deep wound just between thigh and groin. your touch only borders on pain, not yet crossing the threshold. the tip of your finger slides between the flesh. his back arches off of the bed, overwhelmed by the feeling of knives beneath his skin.
digging deeper into the wound, you prod him to answer. “has he robbed the– my dragon of his manhood? your fire is dull, my prince . he took your tongue, too. it seems.”
what comes out of him is halfway between a scream and a death rattle. his cries of pain are only signals of encouragement, you are not to be deterred. his cock swells with muddied desire as you exact your whims upon him, body and mind misaligned.
his lip is pinned between his teeth in anticipation. though you’ve had sex many times, he’s never felt himself laid so bare. gentle kisses turn to a hardened grip on the soft skin, feeling the warm blood from between his legs begin to ooze down his leg. the entire side of his body has transformed into a fireplace. your teeth close on the flesh of his thigh parallel to the bite. his hands hesitate over your head, wishing to rip your mouth from him but conflicted by the arousal stirring deep within him. he is unsure now what ails him, the pain or the inability to fight. you leave a deep impression of your teeth surrounding the torn flesh, holding him down as he thrashes wildly.
“you will be p-punished for this,” he manages to declare through gritted teeth.
“i will wait every day for it,” you reply, knowledgeable that a day on which your husband can overpower you again will not come for many moons.
every bit of blood that rushes to his cock brings more sensation to the wound. pain and desire grow through intertwined roots, twisting around each other within him.
you spit on his blood-covered leg, massaging it into the gash like the arousal of a soaking wet cunt. you treat it as one, sucking at the edges and pumping your fingers in and out of him as deep as they’ll go. aerion loses his words once more, unable to rationalize violation to this degree. the last wall between him and true madness begins to fall.
“taste yourself. taste the disgrace you’ve brought the blood you speak incessantly of.”
this time, your fingers taste like shame. he betrays himself to taste the combined saliva and blood of the deepest wound. his hips chase the nonexistent friction of the atmosphere as he licks your fingers clean.
you pull back your hand once more. he uses the brief pause while you shift to line his cock up with your entrance to take in the display before him. your night dress is decorated with red. his blood covers your hands and thickens beneath your fingernails. your face resembles that of a cannibal. you award him no patience and sink down immediately. you have consumed him.
“finish like this or waste away in your arousal for the rest of the night. gods know you cannot help yourself,” you challenge.
the first thrust upward is tentative. the added pressure of your thighs on his sets the lower half of his body ablaze. every movement of his hips feels as though it rips the wound open anew. it is not enough. his chest is heaving as he dares make a larger movement. his teeth rip the skin from his lips when he forgoes pleasure for pain. you are steadfast in your refusal to aid in his efforts, enjoying watching him from above as he drags minimally in and out.
his hands fidget at his sides, desperate to touch you but unsure it will bring about more torment. it is a risk he’s willing to take. his hands are swatted when you feel the lightest of pressure on your hips.
“up, you have not earned me” you say to him, raising your arms above your head for him to copy.
he complies with a frustrated groan, too distracted by the stationary heat of your cunt. his injured shoulder begins to groan as he grasps at the railing behind his head. he lays there, his cock begging for relief but mouth wired shut. he has remembered a small part of himself, and that minuscule part is determined not to fix his lips to beg.
large tears spill from his eyes with no warning. the dam breaks in only a moment. his face shines with tears. his lips swollen and the capillaries in his eyes broken. the most beautiful he’s ever been.
your fingers close around his throat, your thumb stroking the large gashes on the sides. his eyes squeeze shut in mild surrender as you bend to suck a large bruise into the only unabused part of his neck you can find.
your tongue licks a hot line to his cheek. he cries out once more. every tear that traverses the slope of his cheeks is met with a kiss and a swipe of your tongue. you’ve never seen a tear leave his eye, much less weep… with the last morsel of innocence tainted, an even deeper appetite emerges. his jaw hangs slack as unrestrained sobs burst from his lips. he is lost within himself, within you.
aerion leans away from your hand that lifts his jaw. disturbed. his lips remain still as your warm mouth captures his.
you disconnect your lips and lift your hips until he slides out of you. completely robbed of sensation.
“perhaps we should…we must stop,” you threaten with feigned concern.
“no, please,” he begs with all of the strength his bruised chest can muster. his voice is thick with tears.
“please?” “there must be wool in my ears. i could swear upon my life i heard my dear prince say please”
you recapture his mouth and he concedes for the final time, moaning into the kiss as he grinds his cock between your thighs. a heated exchange of strength through your lips. he begins to struggle to maintain the rhythm of the kiss due to ever-growing weakness. your lips release him as you begin to taste the sweetness of his loss.
you realign yourself with him and begin to grind only forward, focusing only on yourself. he desperately wishes to be the hand massaging brutal circles into your clit.
his hands remain above his head. his eyes can only watch as you use him. he considers begging once more, feeling you begin to clench around him and being powerless to reach his own peak.
a single moment of mercy, he believes. you begin to raise and lower your hips, helping him chase his peak. the edges of his vision begin to blur as he feels the knot in the depths of his belly begin to tighten. when you cum around him, he feels himself begin to dance at the borderline of orgasm. sweat gathers on his brow as his heart reaches terminal speed. with each pulse of your cunt around him his draws quicker breaths. he shuts his eyes, waiting for the dizzying orgasm to rip him apart from the inside. his fingers dig into his hands, adding a new injury among a thousand others.
your withdrawal is wordless and quick, ripping yourself from him just before he can finish.
he remains there in his filth, desire spilling over and body no longer able to move. eyes barely open, he asks the gods to leak enough blood into the sheets that his cock ceases its debilitating aching.
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a/n: the aerion brain worm took over. i feel like character fics r so intimidating, this is only my second :’) . i knew i had to write something like this the moment i saw him getting dogwalked by dunk. its sort of like a “part 2” to the typical fanon aerion dynamic, i think. do let me know what you thought (｡･･｡) !!
summary: hyunjin loves everything about vampires. he dresses like a vampire and even pretends to be one at his favorite vampy bar. he’s never been caught in the lie before and he’s always been too scared to take the final plunge…until he meets you.
tags: sub!hyunjin (sort of), blood drinking, nipple play, biting/marking, hyunjin gets turned, unprotected sex, softdom(femme fatale)!reader, perversion of christianity, cum eating, oral sex
a/n: written while drinking cherry wine and inspired by fangtasia in true blood. the flowery tone switch is when things get serious. HAPPY HALLOWEEN (∩˃o˂∩)♡
hyunjin's eyes stare deeply into the martini glass of a-positive. the rim of the glass remains untouched as he swirls it, not yet ready to commit to taking a drink. he's done this before but he's never gone this far. he doesn't even know what blood tastes like.
"i must really look like one of them if they served me blood" he thinks with a smirk.
he does. his nails are long and painted a sheer blood red (they're fake but nobody would notice). dark red contacts are housed between his heavily made-up lids, a sharp contrast to the face he's painted deathly pale. he exudes a cold aura despite being one of the few people whose heart is capable of thumping to the loud bass that fills the bar.
he likes the noise his nails make on his half-leather half-lace outfit. he shivers as one of the sharp claws grazes over his barely concealed nipple. turning around the crowded bar, he searches for his target for the night. the bar is filled with vampires and thrill-seekers all searching for connection. hyunjin liked the game. he'd flirt like a vampire and disappear into the night just when things were about to get bloody. neither human nor vampire had ever caught the scent of his deception.
an icy hand grasps his back.
there's barely anything between your hand and his skin; the thin fabric gave little protection. he arches his back away from you, startled by your presence. his nose fills with the scent of dried flowers and stone. curious, he turns around to put a face to the energy he felt behind him. your eyes examine him unabashedly, feeling no need to hide your attraction. your nails clink on the glass lightly when you reach behind him to take his drink. he doesn't attempt to stop you. tonight's adventure has come to him. a fire ignites in his belly watching you sip the blood without breaking eye contact with him.
an aggressive pulse beats in the neck hyunjin turns to avoid your pressing gaze when you return the glass to the bar behind him. he gets an inkling that he's somehow become tonight's target. its disregarded as quickly as it came. his head once again turns to meet your eyes with a dangerous smirk.
his fate is sealed by the motion to you to sit down next to him. your tongue slowly licks the light dusting of blood off of your lips. it's his turn to take you in. he takes his time studying the tight outfit you're wearing, the thick jewelry that hangs around your neck, the bloodless skin beneath your clothes. he's entranced.
"are you one of us?" you ask. this is his last chance, unbeknownst to him.
he leans close. his lips tickle your ear as he whispers “do you want me to be?”
you've known since the moment you laid eyes on him that he wasn't really a vampire, you just wanted to know why he'd gone through the trouble of pretending to be. the usual human thrill-seeker didn't put so much effort into blending in with the night. you wouldn't dare complain, though. ivory body paint gives even greater definition to the muscles that show beneath his shirt. the soft features on his face appear sharper with the cool grey he'd used for contour. something about this beautiful falsehood entices you.
with his glass now empty, hyunjin needs a new drink. his non-blood pick of poison is a cherry vanilla spiced rum. warm and dark, fitting for the environment. he downs one shot then another before looking back to you observing him hungrily, imagining how he tastes.
he allows you to lead him to the dance floor. goth-electro plays at an almost hypnotic rhythm as you release yourself to the environment surrounding you. hyunjin sways with his eyes closed and a hand on your hip. with every movement of his head he looks more delicious. even the hands running through his hair flashed thick veins beneath the soft skin.
your hands play at the exposed skin on his chest, each motion pulling him closer to you until your mouth is centimeters from his. not yet ready to taste the blood on your tongue, hyunjin shifts so that your lips meet his neck. to taste humanity would leave him somewhere between human and beast. your tongue traces the large artery tethering him to this life as he grits his teeth.
"not here," you say as you turn around to press your ass into his crotch. your hands rest atop his as he grips your breasts and traces the curves of your body.
he's not really listening. his fingers begin to tug at the hem of your dress, testing how much of you you're willing to let him explore on the semi-lit dance floor. your outfit won't allow him to really touch you. the thick leather and spikes stand in his way. he feels himself begin to frustrate at the inability to properly feel you. his heartbeat begins to match the quick pace of the music that surrounds you.
"where else might we go?" he asks, his tongue dripping with deceit. a part of him still thinks he might disappear into the night having tricked another person. he somehow believes that he possesses the mental fortitude to resist the call of his body to your own.
you lead him through a winding corridor to what could only be described as your lair upstairs. save a red table lamp, the hanging canopy swallows all light. he takes a confident seat at the edge of your bed, darkness enclosing him on all sides.
open-mouthed kisses to his jawline force him to compromise his first principle. he longs to feel the roughness of your tongue in his mouth. his eyes are struggling to stay open as his resolve cracks. just a kiss and then he will slip way. one kiss. "surely, there isn't much blood left over from my drink," he thinks. perhaps more desperately than he intended to sound he says, "kiss me."
a truly devilish look is displayed on your face as you shift upward to reach his soft lips. it feels like you’re going to swallow him. his face is a beautiful mess of pink and white from a mix of your lipstick and his face paint. his heart is pounding as he pulls you into his lap and grinds upward. thoughts of making his escape begin to fade as he sucks on your tongue. his fake nails claw at your back when your real ones travel beneath his shirt to tease his nipple.
if not now, he’ll never leave. he’s already tasted ghost of metallic blood on your tongue. it’s already too far. he must silence the voice telling him to blow his cover and let you taste him.
through unsteady breaths he manages to squeeze out "i have to go."
"do you? go on then." you disconnect your lips from his.
he doesn't move an inch. you start to shift away from him, fixing your clothes and fiddling with your lashes. he pulls you back down, hard.
"stay."
"can i call you a liar?" your lips brush his lightly. it's barely a kiss. hyunjin feels the prick of your fangs on his bottom lip. you wait for permission. everywhere your hands touch feels hot. his head swims. he's never...he never even felt the desire to...you run a sharp nail over his chest one again while he decides. he wants more. "prove me untrue." he says. as the words exit his mouth your teeth pierce his lips.
it burns. as soon as you release him his lips begin to throb. each dot of blood that appears is quickly wiped away by your tongue. “cherries,” you say sarcastically into his mouth. he can only produce a hesitant smile in response.
despite his complaints you rise from his lap and stand above him, your eyes taking in the mild unrest you’ve already inspired in his person. he doesn’t hesitate to lean back when you drop to your knees in front of him, his cock already beginning to ache. painfully slow hands remove him from his pants. the glacial touch of your fingertips running up and down his thighs makes him shiver. he wills to chase the kisses that are travelling ever-closer to where he wants you but your hands are keeping his legs spread and immobile.
your lips are centimeters above the skin of his thigh. the kisses you pepper on the shaft of his impatient are a sliver of mercy. “the femoral artery has always been my favorite, the connection between the heart and the unclean,” you speak into him as your nails press a line on the underside of his cock. his sigh of pleasure is interrupted by your teeth attaching to his inner thigh. the blood loss is more significant this time. his consciousness begins to float away as your tongue laps at the blood beginning to flow from his groin. he is both present and out of his body. eager to chase the euphoria he felt from the bite and your hands, he grasps your head and pushes it toward his center. regret is all he feels as your punishing fingers press into his fresh and aching wound. the relinquish of control dawns on him. drops of blood disappear between your breasts, drawing a whimper from him. your eyes roll back as you clean the red mess from your fingers. noticing him staring at your chest, your fingers dip into your shirt and gather his lifeblood.
“do you want to taste obscenity?” you ask with your hand just above his open mouth
in this moment he is aching for it. the last of his principles are washed away with the blood on your finger. he is no longer imitating impurity, he’s chasing it. you rise to join him once more on the bed.
"turn me," he whispers as his lips suck at the side of your neck. you pretend not to hear, unsure of the conviction of his whisper.
"turn me." he says more firmly. "i am a liar, make me true. turn me." to turn him is to make your essence his.
"do you relinquish your destiny for a life of cannibalism and suffering? one of endless hunger, bloodlust, and pleasure?" with this question you shift him to the floor beneath you. his eyes follow your foot as it presses closer to his cock. he is fighting to remain still so that you'll touch him. “yes,” he replies breathlessly.
"are you willing to turn away from light for eternity?" your hand grasps his cheek and forces him to break eye contact with the heel inching toward him. “yes,” he replies more confidently. he begins to grind on the heel pressing into him.
your hands pull at a crucifix hanging behind your bed, careful to only touch the string it hangs from. he gives you a puzzled look as you press the cold wood into the middle of his chest. he is your first. you’ve never felt the pain of your own teeth as they puncture your wrist. the pain is searing. the holy water you pour down your arm is the first warm thing you’ve felt in a century. he does not protest when your hands pull his head back. his mouth hangs open to eagerly accept his baptism.
his face is covered in blood and he gasps into your lacerated arm. he drinks as if he's awoken from a yearslong coma. there is no way for two creatures to be closer. his newly formed nails scratch at your back as he processes the only feeling he has, desire. want. want for you, your blood, your body. no thoughts cross his mind as his eyes roll back and he gives into his darkest, deepest desire. he is now of the devil, a creature of the night. gone are the limitations on deviance. if christians are to be born anew by the blood of christ, he is the undead embodiment of sin. he is marked by the crucifix, its shape burned into his skin forever.
he takes advantage of his position at your feet, removing your dress and opening your legs for him. he is dizzy and desirous. it feels as though he has no time. his fingers immediately plunge into you, matched in pace by the tongue that sucks at your clit as if it contains your life force. desperate to be inside you he scrambles to reach the bed. you growl at the loss of sensation, but he barely allows you to miss the slowly dissipating warmth of his body. his not yet fully formed fangs bite at your breasts and you cry out. this is new territory for each of you. the haze of new beginning grows when he finally enters you. his thrusts have no discernible rhythm, he is simply running. you mark his neck purely symbolically, something to memorialize his descent into darkness.
"im close god im close why can't i-" he teeters on the edge but can't seem to let go. he whines as his pleasure climbs a seemingly insurmountable peak. he tries to speed up, slow down, change angles, anything.
there must be something he can do to finally release the tension that is making every muscle in his body too sensitive. it hurts to keep going. his leg aches from his still open wound. his hair is covered in sweat. his body paint has long since melted, revealing a sickly complexion underneath. he feels weak and wild. his hips are ramming desperately into yours. when he sounds like one more second might end his newly dead life you begin to utter the words of permission.
“our father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name; the kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” the words struggle to leave your lips, distracted by the violent pounding of the fledgling above you.
at the midpoint you begin to massage your clit. the prayer falters as you press closer and closer to your peak. his fingers press the bite he left, pushing you over the edge. his arms falter as you squeeze around him and attempt to finish his induction.
“give us this day our daily bread; and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us; and lead us not into temptation-”
you pause to kiss him one last time as the last of his true humanity dissipates.
“but deliver us from evil. amen.” the last word is said with a smirk.
his arms give out underneath him when he cums with a painfully satisfied cry to the sky. heaven can no longer hear him and yet he feels the euphoria of the afterlife. the entirety of his weight rests atop you. he hasn't the strength to raise himself from the crook of your neck. you allow him to rest there and collect his mind. he lands next to you with a soft thud when he finally gains the strength to stop crushing you. your legs are stamped with his blood. fingers that move much more gently than before combine the blood that oozes between you with the mix of your arousals. his mouth lazily licks your fingers clean.
the air begins to warm around you, signaling morning is soon to come.
“can you walk?” you ask, lifting him from the ground.
as he knew he would when he took the first drink, he now exists between human and beast. the final step in his transformation lies in the corner of the room, dark and satin-lined. you help him into the coffin, whispering promises to join him soon as he loses consciousness. he could swear the last kiss you give him before closing the lid felt alive.
summary: adrian has the fattest crush on the woman has seen once in his life and that fat tattoo on your lower back that says "fuck me" is icing on the cake | reader as the most embarrassing tattoo she got years ago, but adrian doesn't seem to mind.
paring: boyfriend!adrian x black!f!reader & stranger!adrian x alt!black!f!reader
wc: 1.4k
warnings: mentions of smut, established relationship, strangers to lovers kinda, reverse cowgirl, reader is a alt baddie the 2nd part, male male!masturbation, piercings and tattoos, adrian is a little pervy, lowercase intented, not proofread
a/n: i decided to write to different scenarios bc im extra AND the 2nd part ended up being way longer than the 1st one bc i LOVEEEEE the idea of adrian being obsessed with an alt baddie. I HOPE U LIKEEE
SMUT UNDER THE CUT | 18+ MINORS DNI </3
1. you’re ashamed of your tattoo
the first time he saw was an accident. you got that stupid tattoo straight out of high school. you stepped outside your comfort zone. for your 18th birthday you and a couple old friends got stupid drunk and had the idea to do something crazy. unfortunately that idea was getting a tattoo that said “fuck me” right above your ass. the next day, not only were you hung over, you also threw college and any future jobs out the window.
all you wore was long shirts, one piece swimming suits, and nothing that showed your lower back. the embarrassment stuck with you. then you met your boyfriend, adrian. usually you never bend over to grab things off the floor in public. never. you’d just squat down. unless you were in the comfort of your own home. you were sure if you just forgot he was there or you were just used to his presence, but you bent down. there your tattoo was on display for him.
“fuck me..” he read out. as soon as you realized what you heard him reading your tattoo, you jumped out. immediately spinning on your heels to face him. when you looked at his expression he was shocked. eyebrow high and eyes widened. “oh, gosh-“ you groaned out, shoving your head in the palm of you hand. “you probably think i’m some impulsive slut- i swear im not.” you whined, plopping down on the opposite side of the couch he was sitting on. “well, at least not the slut part…”
“nononono, i don’t think you’re an impulsive slut, y/n. can i just- i don’t know. see it up close?”
you were too embarrassed to notice the difference in his tone. “sure, i guess..” you mumurred, standing up and taking the walk of shame over to him. a deep exhale escaped your throat as you turned around and lifted you shirt for him, just enough to see the whole tattoo.
you jumped a little when his hands clasped around your hips, pulling you closer to his face. his thumbs gently traced around the beginning and ending letters. you were able to see him, but his eyes were stuck with wondering mixed with lust. you felt his breath fan across your back, signaling to you that his breathing was picking up. “do you want me to?” he asked, sounding quite breathless. the wrinkle in between your brows crinkled. “want you to do what?” the grip on your hips got tighter as he said “fuck you?”
and he did. your back was facing him and rode him. he had no clue that the girl he was seeing had the sexiest tattoos known to man. after that he always wanted you to show it off around him. begging you to wear short shirts and low pants. he told you you shouldn’t be ashamed of something so incredibly hot.
2. you fucking love your tattoo
the way he saw your tattoo this way was completely intentional. any chance you get to show off your cunty tramp-stamp, you do. crop-tops, low rise jeans, bikinis, all of it. the first time you met was at his job. you walked into the fast food joint like you were the baddest alive. hair, nails, lashes, everything done. each step you took was mesmerizing. there was no way you were in a place like that.
when he saw you walk his direction, he froze him place. you were the sexist woman he’d ever laid his eyes on. it’s like you were walking in slow motion. and he could’ve swore he heard music. “hellooo? are you good?” you asked with a brow cocked up. the snapping your fingers and the clacking of your nails broke him from his trance.
“YES- yeayea, sorry! i-i’m actually GREAT” he spluttered out, making an absolute fool out of himself. this happened often, but it was extra cute when he did it. you bit the inside of you cheek and gave him a soft smirk. it was smooth and sexy without you trying. “i’m here to pick up my food?” you said, with smile in your voice. “shit- sorry. its right here, m-my bad-“
as you grabbed the bag of food from him, his hand brushed against yours. it probably lasted for half-second was it made his pants get tight. before you turned around to leave you said one thing that made his mind go dizzy. “you’re cute, thanks..” you paused, leaning closer to read his name tag. “adrian,” you smiled and gave a quick wave. flicking your fingers toward him.
then you fully turned around and lo and behold. “fuck me” etched across your lower back. his breath hitched as his eyes focus on the tattoo that fit you so well. sexy and bold. it was incredible unhygienic but he had to run to the bathroom and stroke his weeping dick. how could a woman he had a 5 minute interaction with affect him like this? he felt pathetic but jeez. look at you?
after that you were the only thing on his mind. he didn’t even know your name but he needed you badly. all of his thoughts were plagued of numerous images of you. some fairly innocent but most of them were lewd. the scenarios ranged from you two bumming into each other randomly and going on a little cute date to you riding the living shit at him with you back faced toward him so he could watch your tattoo going up and down as you bounced on his cock.
every time he went to work he crossed you fingers that you’d come back. every time someone with a woman’s name ordered pick-up, he did a silent cheer. but when they walked through the door, it was someone he’s never seen before and he got super sad about it and hopeed that it’ll be you next time.
there was another pick-up order but he was already bummed from the other ones that came in earlier that day. he took other orders and tried to keep his mind off the girl of his dreams. the sound of the door opened made his ear perked up. as the customer in front of him walked at away he looked over and holy fucking shit. his wishing worked.
obviously you were in different clothes but you still had on a crop top. it black, tight and low, showed off your amazing tits. it was short enough to show off the delicious ink on your skin. and your shorts? goodness. they were mini jean shorts. sparkly, blue and low-rise. you had a bellybutton piercing and a few tats down your thighs. everything about you made him want to jump over the counter, drop down to your feet and beg you to have your way with him.
“adrian, nice seeing you again,” you said, walking up the counter. you remembered his name? he could melt. he had the same expression on his face that he had the last time you saw him. It made you giggle. “h-hi…uh-“ he stuttered. “it’s y/n, i’m pretty sure my name is on the bag?”
“ah, yes! it—it is on the bag right here. y/n-” he rambled. “i’m stupid. sorry- y/n” you couldn’t but snicker. it was cutely pathetic the way he blabbered on. he picked up the bag with a shaky hand and gave it to you. beige you grabbed it you took a good look at him. his hair, his arms, his glasses and a bit of a loser. just your type. his heart was already hammering in his chest but the way your eyes shamelessly scanned his body.
“i usually don’t do this but here’s my number. i don’t know you’d be bold enough to ask for it so ill get it to you,” you flirted with giving a slight jab.
“you seem innocent enough,” you said, picking up a napkin from the counter and pulling a pen out of your purse. even the way you wrote was sexy. you placed the paper in his hand and smiled. there you were walking in slow-motion again. but before you left, he built up the courage to say one thing.
“i like your tattoo!” he shouted as you stepped out the door. you turned your head towards him and gave him a sly smile. “thanks, baby.” The pet name was probably used by you often for everyone but he didn’t care. he immediately felt heat rush to his cheeks, leaving them rosy pink. He never pulled out his phone so fast to send you a text. And he may or may have not ran to the bathroom again to rub one out again
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this blog is 18+, do not copy my work for anything without my permission ꔫ / dividers by @uzmacchiato % @enchanthings-a
tags: felix is pathetic as usual, biting, thighfucking, handjob, scratching, cum eating
a/n: i hope it’s not too word-vomity, all of this fell out of my brain at warp speed ´･ᴗ･`
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thighfucking -> pnv; wc: 322
he keeps different angles to get the friction he wants, rubbing right against your clit. you shiver when he spreads you open so he can drag himself between your legs. he’s willing to risk slipping his needy cock in just for a second when he gets desperate and wants to cum so badly, when you feel too good and he craves the warmth of you wrapped around him. he switches from grazing your clit with his dick to rubbing circles while he's inside. pleas through stuttered words leave his mouth. he's lost in the feeling. he pulls out so you don't make him stop because he didn't listen. it would be a nightmare to lose the warmth and softness of your thighs. when you allow him to let go he coats you in his cum, continuing to thrust between your thighs until everything is sticky and he's throbbing from overstimulation. far from satisfied, he shifts down and spreads the lips of your pussy so he can collect every drop of himself he left behind. he can feel his dick getting hard again as you repeat his name when you cum. a fucked-out daze is displayed on his face when you pull him up for a wet kiss flavored by a mixture of you and him. your resolve breaks at the heavy feeling of his cock once again pushing at your clit. he thrusts into you hard and fast, his care for gentleness long since dissolved. his breath is hot on your ear as he grunts into it. a finger presses your clit as he tells you how pretty you are. how bad he needs to cum. how close he is. those are his last words before he can't even speak anymore. he struggles to maintain his rhythm when your legs settle around his hips and lift yours. the feeling of him buried deep combined with the finger on your clit overwhelms your senses. you cum for the second and last time for the night, bodies stuck together with sweat.
handjob; wc: 321
felix gasps in surprise at the force you use to pull him into your lap. his back sits comfortable on your chest. he enjoys the feeling of you hands on his hips. every move he makes is directed by you. the weight of him pushes you deeper into the couch as he tries to settle into the new postion. his legs move with yours as you spread your knees far apart, giving you full access to his already-hard cock. he swallows nervously as your fingers graze over his chest and up to his neck. a quiet whimper vibrates against your fingers. he allows you to tip his head back so that his neck rests comfortably on your shoulder. his eyes close as you get him off. your other hand remains on his hip, continuing to squeeze and scratch at it in the way you know will make him squirm. he sees stars when your fingers return to his neck, squeezing just enough that he feels like he's floating out of his body as his body jerks. a groan leaves him as your fingers press into the tip of his cock. you wrap an arm around him to keep him from lifting from your lap. he can’t get up even as he whimpers tears prick at the corner of his eyes. he knows he's stuck. if his cock is anything to go by he's exactly where he wants to be. you bite a hard purple bruise into the side of his neck and release his waist to roll a nipple between your finger. you're everywhere. his hands grab desperately at the bed as he chases his high. he searches for anything he can grab onto of yours, settling on digging his nails into your thighs as he throws all of his weight back onto your chest. you close your legs as he paints the skin of your combined limbs with his cum.
summary: chan’s been at work all day and you've gone a bit feral (perhaps bordering on animalistic) while you wait for him to return. he should want you as bad as you want him
tags: desperate soft dom!reader w slighttttly animalistic qualities, chan is a bit stubborn n subby, non-idol (white collar)!chan, cockwarming, biting/marking (blood), oral (m.receiving), thigh riding
a/n: this was my first smut fic from my ao3, i reworked it a bit (´ε｀ )♡
one foot through the door and you were on him, your speed bordering on superhuman. fueled by raging hormones you pulled chan through the doorframe and latched onto him with beast-like fervor. with your hands around his head you planted sloppy kisses all over his face. you sucked and bit his lips as if you could pull his very essence into you through his mouth. everytime he pulled away from you to catch his breath, strings of wet saliva connected you. both of your lips were shiny and red from your sudden attack of his face. tipping his head back, you breathed in the scent of his cologne and a long day, running your nose from his collarbone to the base of his ear. his knees threatened to give out beneath him. he hadn’t realized how badly you missed…needed him.
“baby” he muttered as you licked a stripe up his neck where your nose had previously been.
you gave him just enough time to set down his bags before you pulled him into the bedroom by his tie. his shirt and your pants were removed in a blur of fabric. clumsily, you climbed atop him.
turning his head to the side aggressively, you began to nibble on his ear as he started to squirm beneath you.
the kisses you peppered on his neck were light but effective in building his desire. his hands searched for you, massaging your waist and traveling to your ass. he clawed at you to try to express the whimpers that he barely kept contained behind his teeth. you sucked a small soon-to-be purple bruise just above his collarbone, marking him as yours.
his breath quickened as you kissed your way to his chest, switching between hard bites and sloppy kisses. circling his nipple, you willed for him to break his silence. you wanted to hear him say it. hear him vocalize his need. you released his nipple and right above it used just enough force to bite and break skin. finally, he moaned above you and knotted his fingers in your hair. turned on from the pain he jerked his hips up into you, whining when the small amount of friction wasn’t enough. you looked into his eyes with a crazed hunger for him and he silently begged you to keep going, to give him any form of pleasure or relief. anything.
little droplets of blood formed in the teeth mark and you quickly lapped them up with your tongue and soothed the pain with sweet, slow kisses. the bite pulsed with each heartbeat.
leaving his chest to sting, you kissed your way to his waistband. taking a deep breath in, you let your breath out tickle his happy trail. you planted a wet kiss just above his underwear and traced the words “calvin klein” with your finger, taking extra care to ever so slightly slip your finger under the band. you decide to leave one more hickey where his happy trail meets his underwear. he can’t stop his hips from moving as you suck and bite a large purple mark just above the elastic.
an idea pops into your barely cognizant mind, dizzy with want. taking advantage of your position above him you pause for just a moment to take him in. your hungry eyes pour over him, taking in the damage you’ve done. a slight smirk crosses your face as you gaze into his eyes evilly, your normal disposition silenced in favor of primal need.
“take off your pants” you half growl.
his cheeks red and his face broken into a slight sweat, he quickly kicks off his pants before you have time to change your mind.
you take a nail and trace the outline of him painfully slow. his nostrils flare in anticipation as you continue to outline him, letting the pad of your finger linger ever so slightly at the tip. he starts to squirm, angling his hips so more of your hands can take him in.
with a hard smack to his thigh to remind him who’s in control you begin rubbing circles over his boxers. you caress him. squeezing and teasing him until he starts to reach a good rhythm and his eyes flutter closed. no sooner than he starts to let go, you remove your hand and replace it with your mouth. the boxers keeping him from feeling your lips on him entirely. spitting on him you suck on the tip and run your tongue up the seam of the boxers. he needs more. you wait for the words. his underwear is a sticky mess of saliva and precum. you reach a hand up to press on the bite mark you left on his chest and continue circling your tongue around the tip through the fabric.
you almost lose your resolve, your own need becoming desperate. you clench around nothing and your underwear is long soaked through. with unadulterated desire, you toss away the rest of your clothes.
“say you need me. say you want me.” you sit up and shift over to begin grinding on his thigh. removing your underwear your fluids ooze out onto his leg. he howls in pain as you scratch your nails into his chest trying your hardest not to cum without him inside of you. it’s him you want.
he’s lost in the feeling of you. his eyes glaze over as he watches you get yourself off on him. enough.
“please baby i need you i want you i can’t take it please baby please please please.” he’s on the verge of tears. his dick painfully hard. his leg flexed and covered in your scent. his chest sore, beating.
finally satisfied, what little resolve you had to hold back snaps. positioning yourself above him you slam yourself on top of him, immediately bottoming out. you ride him wildly, bucking and grinding your hips forward to chase your high. pure passion drives you as you feel yourself getting closer.
it takes just a second. the aggressiveness from your frenzied bobbing causes him to slip out. you let out a disoriented gasp. he, however, sees an opening. an opportunity. he quickly flips you, your back pressed into the mattress as he drives into you. warmth and feverishness clouding the air between you. reaching a finger down to circle your clit, he watches as your face twists in pleasure.
he was already close. the euphoria was too much. his hips stuttered as he let himself fall into you. you caught his lip between your teeth, biting down on it to taste the blood. teetering on the edge you began lifting your hips to meet his every stroke. your nails creating a mosaic of scratches on his back, you started to lose touch with reality. you cum loud and hard, finally satisfied with him buried deep inside you.
he could barely keep his arms extended as you throbbed around him, the warmth of you causing the edges of his vision to fuzz. the knot in his stomach tightened as he tried to continue on. using the last of your strength you covered his shoulder with kisses and bites until the knot snapped. he roared as his orgasm painted your insides.
the madness began to flicker as he caught your lips in a deep kiss. without pulling out, he covered your face in kisses as you giggled. he wanted to keep you as close as you wanted him. finally beginning to relax, he looked at you with a puzzled face. “you wanna tell me what that was about?”
pairing(s): chan x fem!reader; sprinkles of hyunjin x fem!reader & hyunjin x chan
genre: smut
word count: 3.0k
summary: hyunjin is in love with his roommate chan’s girlfriend and can’t stop himself from jerking off when he overhears you and him.
tags: loverboy!chan, hyunjin is feeling bisexual and pathetic, unprotected sex, a little biting, voyeurism, desc. of sex and masturbation, 3sum mentions
a/n: might feel a little slow at first but trust the tension is worth it ⭑.ᐟ
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hyunjin prepared for a quiet night in. another quiet night in. another night of his tightly tucked sheets being the only thing pressing him into the mattress. switching on a sleep playlist, he climbed into bed ready for the late night station to lull him to sleep. hyunjin stared at his ceiling wondering what chan was up to that night. had he taken you to the movies? to dinner? did you even like him?
technically he could’ve gone with his best friend on another disastrous “double” date where he twiddled his thumbs and watched the clock, waiting for a socially acceptable time to leave. his dates never felt invested in him, the whole thing just felt painfully awkward.
if he were honest with himself he was avoiding the double date for two reasons. the first reason being he was tired of being a 4th wheel, but the second was he could barely keep his cheeks from burning every time you spoke to him. you, his best friends girlfriend. you, who tried in earnest to find him a date. there was only so much time he could spend watching chan dote on you.
he wished you never said yes to chan, or rather, that he’d had the courage to ask you out himself. you always laughed at hyunjin’s jokes and playfully poked him when he tried to flex his toned arms like a swimsuit model. you were a good enough friend to him to pretend not to see how red he got from the effort. every time you scrunched your nose at him and giggled sometimes he’d think “maybe just maybe there could be something there.” he knew the truth though, the closest he’d ever get to you was through chan. pinching the bridge of his nose with a sigh, he smashed his teddy bear against his face hoping to beat the thoughts of you out of his mind. perhaps the soulless bear would have the answer to the question he asked himself every day. he held it above his head, arms outstretched asking
“why is it never me?”
letting the poor stuffed animal out its prison in the sky he decided he’d tortured himself enough for one night. turning over, he cuddled his only (present) friend close and closed his eyes.
just as his mind started to drift he heard the key in the door. he could afford to delay his sleep for a few minutes to see his best friend and ask about his night. it might sting a little every time chan got that glint in his eye talking about you but he was a friend first, loverboy second.
“hey ch-“ the words caught in hyunjin’s throat as he looked out into the living room. chan had you pinned against the door, his hands roaming up and down your body. you were smirking as he whispered something hyunjin couldn’t hear into your ear. he watched as you pressed your body closer to chan, oblivious to hyunjin’s presence. your boyfriend’s roommate didn’t even cross your mind in the dark apartment. you had no knowledge of the way he bit his lip as he watched his best friend’s hand disappear under your dress.
with a gasp, hyunjin stepped back into his room. tiptoeing, he tried his best to close the door quietly and prayed that you’d been too busy with each other to notice his intrusion. his heart was beating so hard he thought his ribs would crack. now he had to go to sleep. he begged for mercy, for god, for the sandman, for anything to free him from imagining what chan’s hands felt like…on yours.
he could hear you. your muffled voices carried through the cramped apartment and straight to hyunjin ears . the giggling telling each other to keep it down. the sighs. the rustling of removed clothes. he could hear you. staring at his blank ceiling he imagined how soft your lips looked with chan’s saliva on them. were your cheeks flushed? stop. he thought about how his hand would feel on your waist. his knee between your…
turning over with a huff he tried to erase all thoughts of you and his best friend. he wouldn’t think about what you could possibly be up to in the adjoining room just a few feet from his door.
you weren’t making it easy for him. the thin walls made him feel like he was in the room with you. quietly, he screamed into his mattress with his pillow over his ears.
“shutup shutup shutup. go to sleep hyunjin, go to sleep.”
he began to squirm without intention. he was just uncomfortable. kicking his legs and wriggling. he wasn’t doing it on purpose. at some point he began to slowly grind into the mattress. gently, against his will. it was the pressure of the bed or the volume of your whining or the position his leg was in. he didn’t mean it. he tried to ignore how good the friction felt when he let his mind drift a little. when he realized what he was doing his eyes snapped open. his cheeks were burning and his half-hard dick was begging for him to continue rutting into the mattress. begging for him to touch himself. to relieve the mounting pressure. a frustrated tear formed in his eye as he groaned into the mattress.
why him?
one word did it. “chan.” he heard you say it through the wall. “chan.” his eyes bored holes through the wall, desperately wanting to know what was making you sing with pleasure. “chan” you moaned as he sucked your clit, legs pinned to the bed. “chan” hyunjin said in a trance, his hand squeezing his dick over his pants.
the fight against hyunjin’s mind was reaching a crescendo. he wanted so badly to remove the two thin layers of clothing that bound him. the sound of your shared breaths left his dick throbbing with a need to connect his lips to yours. he longed to hear his name on your breath.
hyunjin traced his lips with his hand, imagining it was your hand tenderly stroking his face. he closed his eyes and ran his hands down his chest stopping just above his underwear. he teased himself pretending his palm was yours, adding and removing pressure with circles of his thumb. with a little saliva on his finger he could pretend it was your tongue grazing him, making sure to outline the head.
chan stopped for a second, ignoring the frustrated and confused noise that came from you. he stopped to look up at you from his position, akin to sniper. when he had you like this he could see all of you and into you. he slowly pushed and pulled his fingers inside you watching as your chest rose and fell. your chest. you looked so perfect from this angle. his mind clouded with the desire to swallow all of you. to have his fingers and mouth roam every inch of you.
you could see chan’s passion for you in his eyes but you wanted to taste it. he could tell you how much he adored you and cared for you through each swipe of his tongue on yours. through the tickle of his rough breaths on your upper lip. sick of waiting you pulled him from his enchantment with watching you squeeze around his fingers. he had no hint of hesitation. only a few minutes had passed since your lips last connected but he kissed you like he hadn’t tasted you in years. barely able to breathe, you pulled his head back with your fingers knotted in his hair. it was a futile effort. he whined and smashed himself back into you, warning you not to do it again. he allowed his hands to leave their position on your back to lay you down solely so he could attach his hands to your breasts. lazily he opened his eyes to see your face of pleasure as he rolled your nipple between his rough fingers. you reached down to coat your fingers in your own arousal and shove them into his mouth. his tongue lay waiting to taste you again but you instead reached down to slowly pump his untouched dick. he jerked as you tightened your grip as you reached the head, giving him the attention he hadn’t realized he needed.
hyunjin just wanted to release the pressure. just needed to let off a little steam, take the edge off, or whatever phrase made him feel less guilty about jerking off to his best friend and his girlfriend. he dropped most of his shame with his pants, deciding there was no turning back anyway. he was painfully hard and his body buzzed with desire and the risk of being heard by you. maybe he wanted to be, he thought. maybe the sound of his desperation would carry through the paper thin walls and you would hear how crazy you made him.
at the same moment that you had taken chan into your hands, hyunjin had wrapped his own around himself. they were matched breath for breath, stroke for stroke, though neither really knew it yet. having switched your positions you sat straddled across chan’s thick thighs, your hand slowly squeezing the length of him. his lip caught in between his teeth. he couldn’t think of a word to say. there was nothing to say. his mind was covered in pink clouds, his hands on your waist rubbing his praises into your hips and ass. the shallow crescent shaped imprints of his nails told you how pretty you were, even if the words were caught on his lips as he tried to fight through the spell you had him under. he hoped the intensity of his gaze spelled out how lucky he felt and how good you were making him feel. you looked directly into his eyes as you picked up your pace, his head pressing further back into the mattress then rising again to meet your gaze. the satisfied look in your eye only made him want you more. he released his bottom lip from his teeth only when you used your other hand to trace the seam of his balls. a hoarse noise escaped his throat as he spun deeper.
“i hope-“ squeeze.
“hyunjin-” pump.
“can’t hear” squeeze.
chan’s first coherent sentence of the night.
with every tight-lipped groan from chan, hyunjin thrusted up into his hand. he was addicted to the sound of him. with every noise he felt closer to the brink. he shook his head as if to condemn himself in real time. a part of him felt dirty. his hand hesitated for just a moment and the temporary loss of contact almost brought a tear to his eye. in that pitch black room he accepted fate and slavery to his own pleasure. with every somber turn of his head he stepped closer to release. chan had said his name so weakly. hyunjin struggled to suppress a whimper at the thought. the sound of his best friend falling apart saying his name was making him dizzy.
“hyunjin.” hyunjin replayed in his mind. “hyunjin.” he closed his eyes. what he wouldn’t give to be in that room. to feel the energy swirling, barely contained by the four walls. to get lost in a tangle of limbs, sweat, and arousal. to sink deep into you and mark you as his. to have a set of hands in his hair and another on his chest. the room was beginning to vibrate as he imagined your body pinned between the two of them, your lipstick covering his face and chan’s hand abusing your clit. just for tonight he entertained the idea of sharing you. the idea of absorbing every sound you made into his mouth. to have chan pressing you into him, the energy radiating through you between the two of them. the pulse of your pussy squeezing him as you came.
chan’s favorite position is missionary. he doesn’t want to miss a second of you, of any expression. of any movement. he loves being above you, watching his dick disappear inside of you. he loves the warmth you give him inside and out. he loves watching your hair tangle as you’re pressed into the mattress.
he wants to make love. lifting your leg, he kisses from your ankle to your inner thigh, skipping not one inch. he places a lazy kiss on your waist before rubbing an indiscernible pattern into your thigh. he cant resist biting a bruise into the soft flesh. when you yelp he quickly soothes the blossoming bruise with a thousand gentle kisses. your thigh is throbbing and you want nothing more than to tell him to hurry up. to just give you what he knows you need, but his eyes are too full of a dark mix of love and lust. he wants just a little longer to tell you how perfect you are, to kiss the creases of your thighs and hips. to rub circles on your lower back. whispers of how pretty you are just barely reach your ears as his nose nudges your clit. the flood just below his jawbone convinces him to give in. there’s nothing closer, better, or more intimate than being buried to the hilt inside you.
you both sigh when he finally pushes inside of you. he’s determined to take it slow, even as you wrap your legs around his hips. even as you tell him how badly you need him. even as you scratch all ten fingers down his back and he shivers violently. he keeps a slow intimate pace, rhythmically pushing into you and pulling back. there is nothing rough, only soft edges. he struggles to hold balance and stroke your cheek, barely managing a smile as he feels the too-fast-approaching high.
he wanted to extend the time he had with you. to hold you in that moment for a little longer. the edges of the world began to fuzz with each slow roll of his hips. you were too soft, too warm, too inviting, sucking him in deeper with every flutter. he had to pull out. the sudden action elicited a groan from you but he didn’t give you time to miss him. he took advantage of your legs hooked around his hips to drag himself painfully slowly back and forth across your swollen bud. a sticky mix of precum and your arousal trailed after him, leaving the surface of you a mess. with every thrust his dick grazed the fresh bite mark, adding a little pain to your pleasure.
he refused to come undone until you did. he decided to hit you from all sides. realigning himself with your entrance he made quick work of overwhelming you with sensation. slow strokes prodding your g-spot and showered kisses. your voice reached another pitch when he rolled your clit between his thumb and pointer finger. he caught your lips in a kiss to muffle the noise of your orgasm, silently praying the soft sound of the music next door was enough to cover the sound of him spilling into you.
hyunjin was practically drooling over the sounds that carried into his bedroom. he could hear how wet you were, your quiet whimpers overshadowed by chan’s grunting. he was fighting to stay quiet himself, his jaw stiff as he twisted his hands over the tip. he slapped a hand over his mouth, moaning through his fingers as he heard what had to be the sound of both of you cumming. your voices together sounded so desperate. so in love. his face burned with jealousy. he kept thrusting into his hand, his thumb focused on the tip. the other he kept over his mouth as he was sure that you’d be able to hear him now that you were done making your own noise. even with no moans slipping through his fingers, his chest heaved as he bucked desperately into his splayed fingers. his eyes screwed shut as he remembered the sound of his name on chan’s lips. hyunjin momentarily uncovered his mouth to reach onto his side table and retrieve the t-shirt he’d let you borrow. it smelled of an intoxicating mix of chan’s cologne and your perfume. the two people he so desperately and shamefully wanted were just out of reach. draping the shirt over his face. he opened his mouth to coat the shirt in his spit and suck it back out. excess saliva dribbled down the side of his mouth, sticking the shirt to the sides of his face. he hoped there was a trace of you. hyunjin wanted anything of you he could taste. he took a deep breath in, the scent of you penetrating deep into his nostrils. on the out breath his chest was splattered with cum and the thin t-shirt did nothing to muffle the sound of your names as he cried out.
the shame slaps him like an 8 foot wave. he realizes what he’s done, and more importantly, what he said. he continued to spout a jumbled combination of names, chan’s and yours as he twitched violently, his hand still making rounds on the overly sensitive, angry, head. he slowed to a stop. the mess on his chest suddenly feels cold as he uses the you-scented t-shirt to wipe himself off. he held his breath waiting for a knock on his door or the wall or for chan to call out to him, letting him know his sin hadn’t been a secret. bringing his pillow to its previous resting place he let out an exasperated scream. with every second that passed he felt his cheeks get pinker and pinker as he reckoned with his attraction to his best friend. he remembered how desperately chan had said his name and screamed again.
that’s when the knock came.
“hey, you alright in there?”
hyunjin’s cheeks turned fire engine red at the gentleness with which he spoke to him.
on the other side of the wall, the pair of lovers’ cheeks stained the same shade of red. they were embarrassed at the thought that hyunjin might have heard them, but ultimately unbothered as they settled into eachothers arms. all three people in the tiny apartment drifted to sleep with curious thoughts of the events in the other room.
