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↣ Second Chances jisung x fem reader // jisung plans to lose his virginity at a party and ends up trapped inside the bathroom with his ex best friend.
↣ Hometown: au jisung x fem reader // friends to lovers back to friends and then lovers. Jisung moves back to his small hometown to find that you’ve just moved back too. But what happens when he finds out you have a kid and he’s the father?
↣ Little Deaths: fem!reader is stranded in a haunted house where 8 cursed ghosts reside
↣ Bergamot and Vanilla: fem!reader x Ji - work colleagues to lovers
↣ A friend in need: soft dom Minho x fem reader. You’re tired of your cheating bf, your friend minho offers to help you forget about him.
So tired this morning that I just sat there on the couch running a full blown scenario of a chance meeting with Channie that involved flirting then a hotel room.
Pairing: PirateThief!Jisung x Female Captain Reader x Ex-Bandit Lino
Summary: When Y/N, Captain of the Blackened Heart, gets offered a large sum of money to deliver a thief to the Jarl of Serpent Point, she and her crew greedily accept. But while spending time with the familiar thief during their long journey back home, she realizes just how important human connection can be, even for a pirate.
Warnings: Swearing, mentions of the death of a loved one, mentions of loss, mentions/talk about bisexuality, mention of blood, mentions of death of an animal.
Side note: This is kind of a filler chapter, but it's necessary to the storyline, so please don't hate me for the lack of action in this T_T It is pretty heavy though, so make sure you bring your tissues!
** The author has left out some warnings to create an element of surprise with certain topics in/throughout this chapter. Reader discretion is advised. **
Word Count: 8k
A/N: sorry for the delay in posting! I am currently in the process of trying to find a new place to live before Christmas and I am not having much luck, so I've been incredibly stressed. Nonetheless, here is the next part! Already working on Part Nine, but I can't guaruntee it'll be up anytime soon. Thanks for your understanding!
A/N 2: There is a very very good chance this fic may turn into a full fledged novel that I will eventually get published, just because I love this story so much, but shhhh I can't promise anything yet xx
Enjoy!
Every breath hurt.
And not in a poetic way, like some he’s-had-his-heart-broken-and-ripped-out type of way. This one was bone deep. Lungs grinding, ribs burning, every inhale feeling like jagged glass dragging across his chest, while every exhale felt like fire burning his skin.
He didn’t remember hitting the floor, just the blur of Lino’s fists, the crunch of bone, the metallic taste of blood flooding his mouth until the world tilted and went black. He remembers hearing shouting. Lots of shouting. And then quiet.
Not silence, but quiet, like hushed tones and whispered rage. He remembers hands on him, and his one good eye opening just enough to catch your gaze, as if something deep inside him knew you were staring at him, and his body was just reacting out of instinct. Then the world went black again.
When he came to, half-conscious, all he felt was pain.
And then hands. Not fists. Not restraints. Just steady, deliberate, soft hands pressing something against his temple.
“Stay still,”
The deep, gentle timbre of Yongboks voice was soft but the pressure of the cloth against Jisungs temple was not. Jisung hissed, jerking away on instinct, but his head only slammed back against the wall, sending a fresh flare of agony through his skull.
“Are you okay?” the blue haired boy asked, his free hand fluttering to cup the side of Jisungs head as if he were afraid he would smack it again. The gesture was so small, so kind, that it almost made Jisung stop breathing.
“Just hurts,” Jisung rasped in response, his voice shredded raw, thick with the copper that coated his tongue.
Yongbok let out a small chuckle, the sound of…relief?
“You’re lucky,” he said, his head tilting to the side as he lightly pressed against Jisung’s temple again with the cloth. Jisung grit his teeth and resisted the urge to flinch away again. “Lino could’ve done a lot worse.”
Jisung almost laughed, but the sound that came out was a half choke half cough. “Feels like he already did.”
Yongboks eyes flickered from the wound on his head and found Jisung’s gaze, a small apology on his lips.
“You’re lucky he didn’t break your jaw,” Yongbok spoke lightheartedly as he released the pressure on Jisung’s head to dip the cloth into a bowl of water before wringing it out and bringing it back to the wound. “Or your ribs. Or your neck.”
Jisung flinched again, jaw clenched painfully at the searing pain that was shooting through him.
“I know,” Yongboks tone softened impossibly more, his face screwed up in a look of regret and determination. Like he was sorry he had to do this, but he knew he had to. “Just breathe through it. The worst is over.”
Jisung was silent for a moment as he watched Yongbok put the cloth back into the red tinged water and grabbed a roll of gauze. With practiced hands, Yongbok tore a strip of it, soaked it in another bowl that had a concerning type of substance in it before pressing the strip to Jisungs head with as much care someone would give a newborn baby.
The cold of the substance against the rough material of the gauze made Jisung hitch a breath, a sharp contrast from the hot press of the cloth moments before. Yongbok then tore off a piece of medical tape from wherever he pulled it from and secured the gauze in place tightly across Jisung’s forehead.
It was silent for a few minutes, Yongbok working with ease as he slowly bandaged Jisung back together. Medical tape cut into small strips placed on the corner of his mouth where the rings on Lino’s hand met skin. Another set of strips on his opposite cheek where the metal hit bone again. A small piece of gauze across the bridge of his nose. Knuckles wrapped from where he attempted to fight against Lino’s grip.
Finally, after a long stretch of silence, Jisung spoke up with a soft whisper.
“I didn’t know the guy could be such a brute,”
Yongbok was just placing different hot cloth to the bruises along Jisungs jaw when his gaze sharpened despite the continued gentleness in his fingers. Jisung felt as if he crossed a line and said something wrong, but Yongbok just let out a tight-lipped smile before responding.
“He’s not a brute.” Was all he replied with.
Jisung’s head lolled back against the wall as Yongbok moved his attention to the other side of the jaw where more bruises lined the bone. “Could’ve fooled me. The man wants me dead.”
To his surprise, Yongbok let out a small, light-hearted chuckle.
“He doesn’t,” he said simply. “Not really. He just…protects. Too hard sometimes, I’ll admit, but that’s how he shows it. If he wanted you dead, the boatmen would be scraping your remains off the floor of the cell instead of me being in here tending to you.”
Jisung huffed harshly through his nose.
“That’s what you call protecting? Feels a lot like beating a man to death. Take it from me.”
“Maybe it does,” Yongbok’s voice was calm and steady in that way that made it impossible to argue. “But Lino’s the one who’ll also stand guard outside your door all night without sleeping a wink just to ensure you feel safe. He’ll offer the last of his food to us if he doesn’t think we’ve eaten enough. He’s the one who fixes the mast before a storm hits when no one else even thinks to check themselves. He even makes our beds for us so we can all fall into a clean, comfy cot at the end of the day.” Another small chuckle left Yongboks mouth at the prospect of that last one. “He takes the blows so the rest of us don’t have to. That’s just who he is.”
Jisung blinked, surprised by the quiet conviction.
He watched in silence as Yongboks mouth curved, just slightly, as if he were remembering something from his past.
“He seems like a hard ass, I know. He seems cold and mean and completely emotionless. But he keeps the rest of us together. Jeo laughs more because of him than anyone else, Chan shoulders are more relaxed when he’s around, knowing he doesn’t have to bear the weight of protecting the crew on his own. He teaches Jinn how to fight, Binni trusts him with the cannons more than he trusts the Captain, he’s the only one who can truly calm Seungmo down with a single look, and I…” he paused to take a breath, shaking himself from the momentary trip he seemed to have taken down memory lane. “I trust him to keep us safe. Always.”
The words pressed heavier on Jisungs chest than the bandages did. He wanted to scoff, to dismiss it, because the picture Yongbok painted didn’t match the monster who left him bloodied on the floor. But he couldn’t. And he wasn’t sure why.
“And the Captain?” he asked quietly. “What is he to her?”
He couldn’t help but ask, trying to keep his voice light and casual when he was aching on the inside to know more. Yongbok stopped his ministrations and raised an amused eyebrow at Jisung’s question.
“You fancy yourself the Captain, do you?” he asked with a smirk. It made Jisung feel relaxed, like the two of them were having a casual conversation like two friends in a tavern, and not two strangers talking over blood.
Jisung couldn’t help the blush that crawled up his neck and spread across his cheeks, though Yongbok just let out a loud, heartfelt laugh.
“Don’t worry about it, Mate. We’ve all been there. She’s something else for sure. But I’m afraid you’re shit out of luck. She’s not into prisoners,” he finished with a wink. Jisung let out a laugh that had absolutely zero girth to it.
“She’s into brutes then, I’m assuming.” He let himself joke back. He braced himself for a scolding, but all he was met with was Yongboks deep, comforting laugh once again. He decided he really liked his laugh.
“No. It’s not like that. They’re bonded. Not like the rest of us are with her. Ever since we pulled him out of the water, he’s stuck to her like glue. Vowed to devote his life protecting her instead of returning to life as a bandit.”
Jisung knew he should’ve felt a punch in the gut at the way Yongbok said ‘devoted’ but he was so focused on the first half of the sentence that he didn’t process the second.
“Pulled him out of the water?” he asked in confusion. Yongbok let out a sigh and leaned back on his heels, wiping his forehead with his forearm and tossing another bloody rag to the side.
“I’ve probably said too much already, but he was on his way to Fogrush when the boat he stole went under. We found him in the dead of night clinging onto a piece of broken wood and practically hypothermic. It was the Captain who ordered Jinn to stop and anchor down. She didn’t even wait for him to obey her before she was in the freezing cold water and swimming to his side. He’s dedicated his life to protecting her ever since, but it’s only because she saved him first.”
Jisung fell silent at that once again. He didn’t even know how to begin to respond. His mind was too busy reeling at the revelation, caught between annoyance at the way Lino always hovered way too close to you, and the memories of you and the heroic nature you’ve had since as long as he could remember.
He thought back to the childhood you spent together, and how you always had a soft spot for a soul in need. The cat you rescued from the water-well out behind his childhood home, the scraped knees and hands that you tended to after a game of keep away got too exhilarating, the way you once saw an owl snatching a rabbit off the ground and yelled at the predator until the rabbit was dropped. You rushed to the small animal’s side and immediately scooped it up, tears coming to your eyes as you looked at the talon marks that dug deep into its side.
You stayed with that rabbit and tried to nurse it back to health for days, and you were absolutely devastated when it ended up passing. He remembered the way your bottom lip trembled and the tears that fell from your eyes when he helped you bury the little guy in the front garden.
“It’s not fair,” you had sniffled, staring at the mound of dirt.
“I know,” he had squeezed your shoulder and pulled you to his side. “But it’s the way of life.”
You then turned into his chest and let out a sob for this creature that you just so happened to find on a random afternoon. It was the moment twelve-year old Jisung fell in love with you.
Jisung found himself biting his lip intently while Yongbok continued his work, oblivious to Jisung’s inner turmoil.
He remembered the way you looked when you held that arrow that had went astray. It wasn’t his arrow, but he still felt the guilt all the same, crushing down on his chest cavity until he didn’t know how to breathe.
He remembered watching you from the dark for the days following the attack, his heart wanting to run to your arms, but his guilt keeping him rooted in place. You had said goodbye to your mother and screamed your heart raw only merely a day before, and then you were taking charge and gathering survivors, rationing all the left-over supplies you could find as if your loss never happened at all.
He remembers watching you tend to every single one of the wounded with the same care Yongbok was giving him now, holding crying children in your arms like a soothing mother as you helped them search for their family among the destruction.
He watched and waited for the perfect opportunity to come back. To step from the shadows and pull you into his arms. To hold you and kiss you and beg for your forgiveness for leaving. But he never did.
Within days, you had pulled together as many people as you could before leading them to the city of Serpent Point for refuge, but Jisung was surprised when you didn’t cross the city line with them. You pushed the people on, encouraging them to go find safety within the city walls, but you refused to go in.
Instead, you turned and disappeared into the darkness, smoke lingering in your wake.
And that was the last time he saw you.
He watched you leave, heading as far away from the city as you could, and that’s when he finally let himself escape the shadows. Instead of going to his childhood home, he went directly to yours. He ignored the scent of death and destruction and maneuvered himself into the rubble and remains of the house he practically grew up in with you. It had nearly completely collapsed, but only a small portion of one of the rooms stayed intact.
It was the bedroom the two of you had shared, and with a sudden surge of the last of his remaining energy, he went to the nightstand beside the bed that was now sporting a large chunk of the roof on top of it. He broke the drawer opened and was surprised to see the set of rings that were still sitting inside on a chunk of cloth. How they survived the attack, he had no clue, but he didn’t question it.
He pulled the rings from the drawer and, with careful fingers, untied the braided rope necklace you had made for him back when you two were still young and in love, and he slipped the rings on. He then pulled himself from the house and left through the dark in the complete opposite direction.
He stowed on a boat that night, not daring to stay any longer lest you find him and gut him alive. He ended up a few days away in a small town called Heathstead, where he bunkered down in a tavern just outside of town with the gold his father gifted him from the job. The gold was dirty and soaked in guilt, but he had no where else to go. He refused to return to the guild, and his home was gone. So here he stayed, and here he waited.
He found out through word of mouth that the farms were eventually built up and restored to their former glory only two years later. He didn’t have it in him to return since the attack, so he asked around at the taverns he visited on his journey to God knows where, and some of the travelling merchants mentioned most of the farmers had sold their land and left, too traumatized and scared to stay in Serpent Point for another second. And he assumed you were one of them.
Jisungs breath was beginning to come in shorter inhales, and he had to find a way to ground himself as he got lost in his own memories. He was thankfully pulled away from the thoughts with a snap of Yongboks fingers in front of his face.
“You okay, Mate?” he asked as he began fumbling through the baskets of medical supplies he brought down with him. Jisung managed a nod.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” He responded with as much conviction as he could muster.
“Good. I’m almost done. Do you mind? I just want to give you something for the pain.” Yongbok motioned to the vial and needle he was now holding in both hands. Jisung glanced down at the two and shook his head quickly. Anything that could soothe the ache and white-hot pain shooting across his entire body was good enough for him.
Yongbok worked quickly to pull the contents of the vial into the needle before bringing the pointed tip to Jisung’s arm.
“It’ll pinch for a second.” He murmured, and Jisung barely had enough time to nod before the needle was piercing his skin. A second later, Yongbok pulled the needle free and quickly bandaged the injection site with a piece of gauze and medical tape before he ruffled Jisung’s hair and stood up. He winced slightly as his wooden leg knocked against the floor, but he steadied himself with ease.
Without another word, he gathered his medical supplies in his arms and began to retreat from his cell. Maybe it was the need to know more of everyone’s past, or simply because he was craving companionship, but Jisung blurted out before Yongbok could cross the threshold.
“What happened to your leg?” He asked with curiosity, desperate for a conversation that didn’t involve fists, knives, or heartache. Yongbok adjusted the supplies from one arm to another and gave him another smirk.
“That’s a story for another time.”
Jisung breath hitched slightly. Another time meant he was going to come back. That they were going to speak again. Yongbok had been the only one who had shown him a sliver kindness out of all the people on this boat, and he clung to that kindness like a lifeline.
“You’ll come back?” his voice was small, and he felt pathetic at the desperation in his tone. But Yongbok took it in stride, coming back to Jisungs side and ducking in front of him to meet his gaze with his own.
“Of course. Can’t have you dying on us now, can we? Not before we make it back to Serpent Point.”
Jisung’s gut pinched at the sudden reminder of exactly why hewas on this boat to begin with. Because his lies and treason finally caught up with him. Because he wasn’t careful enough. Because he was involved in the wrong crowd, and now, he was sentenced to death.
He couldn’t push any words past the hard lump of utter fear in his throat, so he settled on looking back at Yongbok with what he attempted to be a grateful smile. Yongbok reached out and lightly padded his less-damaged cheek in a soft reassurance.
“I’ll be back later to check on the bandages.”
And with that, Yongbok up and left, leaving Jisung alone to return to himself and his own, nightmare inducing thoughts.
He felt the heavy drag of the medicine Yongbok gave him within minutes, and he barely had time to pull himself onto the cot before his head was hitting the pillow and he was falling back into darkness
When he regained consciousness the second time, he was aware of two things.
The first was the undeniable feel of a ship gliding across the surface of the ocean, rocking slightly with each wave, but moving, nonetheless.
The second was that someone was watching him.
He kept his eyes closed and his breathing even, resisting the urge to tense up at the feel of someone’s gaze burning holes into his back. He was curled up on the cot, facing the wooden wall of the ship, his body moving in time with the waves the vessel was moving steadily across. The consistent movement made him feel nauseous and he fought back the feeling of bile rising in his throat. It had been so long since he was on a ship he almost forgot the uneasy feeling that came with being out at sea.
A particularly rough wave rocked his body from side to side and much to his dismay, his body tensed as bile rose in his throat and nearly came crashing out of his mouth. Less than a second later, a voice echoed through the brig, though it wasn’t one he recognized all that much. But as long as it wasn’t Lino, he didn’t care. Yongbok may have helped Jisung understand Lino better, but it didn’t mean he was ready to face him or his wrath again. He had enough of a beating to last a lifetime.
“So he lives,” the voice was a mixture of nonchalance and sarcasm that bit at Jisung in an uncomfortable way. “Awesome.”
Jisung didn’t have to turn around to know that whoever was watching him was sporting a deadpan look. He could practically feel it through the words themselves.
“What? No hello, no good evening? No thank-you-for-keeping-watch-to-make- sure-Lino-doesn’t-come-back-down-and-finish-the-job? That’s not very nice of you.”
Jisung swallowed roughly before slowly rolling over to face the man who was speaking to him.
“Forgive me for my bad manners,” Jisung drawled as he pulled himself up to a sitting position. His body was stiff, and it ached as if he’d hadn’t moved an inch all night long. Which, given the medicine Yongbok gave him and how quickly it knocked him out, he wouldn’t doubt the effects. “They must have been knocked loose by the shit hospitality I’ve experienced since being on this god forsaken boat.”
The corner of the stranger’s mouth curved up into a small smirk, his eyebrow raising in surprise and defiance.
“Oh, a comedian, are you?” the stranger let out a small chuckle before, “you know you’re not very good at making jokes.”
Jisung ignored the jab. He was too groggy to even consider taking the bait this man was dangling in front of his face. He was sore and far too tired for someone who just had the best nights sleep since he stepped foot onto the vessel.
Jisung reached up and tenderly felt at his temple, where a weak throb was still pounding against his skull. He winced slightly before moving it to his nose, and then his lip. He was grateful to see his hand came back clean and clear of blood, though he could feel the sweat that coated the bandages from his night of rest. Hopefully Yongbok came down soon to change them out.
Another rough wave rocked the ship, and Jisung’s eyes travelled up to the peephole that sat just out of reach. He noted the lack of light shining through, and after moving his glance to the peephole on the other side of the room, he was met with nothing but darkness. Was it still nighttime?
“How long was I out for?” he asked around a groan as another wave of nausea flushed over him.
“Just about four days,” the man responded dryly, his focus back to the parchment in his hands.
Jisung was sure his eyes would’ve bulged out of his head if not for the throbbing and swelling keeping them in.
Four days!?
The thought made him all the more uneasy.
How had he gone through four full days without waking up once? He thought back to the drug Yongbok gave him for the pain. Either the medicine was really really good, or he was drugged by something else other than pain meds.
The idea of Yongbok doing such a thing after their almost friendly conversation twisted his heart in the worst way possible.
Please don’t let him be like everyone else.
A chuckle rung out throughout the room and Jisung was pulled back to present to see the man watching him again with a knowing smile on his face.
“Yongboks medicine works wonders, doesn’t it?” he said around a grin. When Jisung didn’t responded, he spoke again. “He gave me some after a bad ambush one time, and I was out for almost a week.”
Jisungs shoulders relaxed for a moment, comforted with the prospect of someone else experiencing the terrifying loss of time the way he did, but that tension snapped back when he caught the man’s smirk and raised eyebrow.
He could be lying!
Trying to remain calm and collected, as if this feeling was completely normal, he shifted himself into a seated position as best he could against the wooden walls beside his cot. The man gave him one last lingering glance before his eyes returned to the paper again.
Jisung took the silent moments to examine the male. He was obviously younger, but his square jaw and sharp eyes made him appear years older than Jisung. His hair was parted slightly to the left, forehead exposed to show off his smooth skin. He was thinner than the rest, but he still had muscle on his bones that were defined in his exposed forearms.
As Jisungs gaze continued raking over the man, he could tell that the guy was sarcastic, witty, and entirely too much of a jokester for his own good. He held himself with a certain confidence that the others lacked. It was lazy, unbothered and not the slightest bit humble. He was sure of himself in the most honest way possible, and there was no doubt in Jisungs mind that this guy was the one who challenged you the most, he just wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or not.
Jisung thought about the crew he’s met so far, willingly or unwillingly, and about the names he’s heard exchanged between shift switches by the others. He knew Chan immediately when he had stepped into his cell back in Cliffpoint, and Lino was obviously there as well. He couldn’t forget that face even if he tried. The other brute that hauled him back to the ship that day was Binni, and the watchman that ended up attacking Marrow Jack was called Jeo. That means this man in front of him now was either Jinn or Seungmo.
“Jinn?” he tested the name out loud. The stranger looked up and smiled at him with that devilish look again. He looked like he was going say something witty back, but he must’ve thought better of it.
“Seungmo,” he corrected. “Jinns too busy navigating us back to your death.”
Jisung grimaced at the mention of his foreboding future.
“So if Jinns the navigator, what does that make you?”
Seungmo glanced up at Jisung through his eyebrows. After a moment of silence he let out a sigh and discarded the parchment on the table beside him before leaning forward on his elbows.
“Take a wild guess. What do you think I am?”
The challenge was right there and Jisung couldn’t help but finally grab onto that bait like an angry and resentful fish. He ground his teeth together and took a deep breath to calm his nerves before he responded.
“Well based on what I’ve seen, this ship already has a quartermaster, an artillery man, a navigator, a medic and an increasingly bad-tempered guard who doesn’t leave the captain alone. You wear sarcasm like armor, you always have a witty response waiting at the tip of your tongue, and that smirk you’re always wearing all indicates you’re probably some form of jokester or prankster. You don’t know how to stay in your lane and you’re always challenging authority, in this case the Captain. I think you’re just a pain in the ass.”
Seungmos smirk finally fell from his face and Jisung felt a surge of sick pride that he was able to knock this guy down a few pegs. The smirk turned downwards into a scowl, and he could see Seungmos jaw twitch.
There was another moment of silence, and Jisung was sure the man would take the bait now that the roles were reversed. But to his surprise, Seungmo let out a small humorless laugh and leaned back in his chair, acting as if what Jisung said didn’t bother him in the slightest.
“We prefer the term Onboard Entertainment.” Seungmo corrected him with a sparkle of mischief in his eyes.
“We?” Jisung tried to raise his brow in question, but the movement made him wince, head throbbing.
“Jeo,” Seungmo responded.
Jisung grimaced against the pain. “The one who—”
“Finish that sentence and I’ll rip your throat out,” Seungmo’s voice cut him off, a scowl on his face once again. His voice was low, sharp and protective, and an uncomfortable shiver ran down Jisung’s spine.
Jisung raised both hands quickly, a gesture of peace. “I was going to say the one who beat Marrow Jack half to death. Which, frankly, I should thank him for. That bastard was insufferable.”
Seungmo blinked in surprise, then snorted. Some of the tension in his shoulders disappeared. “Yeah, that’s him.” His mouth ticked up faintly. “He’s the feisty twin. I’m the level-headed pain in the ass.”
“Twin?” Jisung arched a brow the best he could. “You look nothing alike.”
“Oh really? I hadn’t noticed.” Seungmo deadpanned.
Jisung couldn’t help but let out a half-laugh. “Definitely a pain in the ass,” he mumbled with a shake of his head.
The air shifted then. The small moment of banter thinned, leaving something heavier in the air. Seungmo’s eyes darkened, searching Jisung’s face.
“Chan told me what happened that night. With Marrow Jack and Jeo. Said you had the chance to escape. You didn’t. Why?”
Jisung shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Wouldn’t have made it past the gangplank before someone dragged me back. Not worth the effort. Plus, it was a knife, not a lock pick.”
“I’ve seen people do more with less. You also could’ve turned the knife against Jeo. Saved Marrow Jack, joined in on the taunting. Maybe put a knife to Jeo’s back for his… secret.” Seungmo’s voice lowered on that last word before he took a deep breath. “But you didn’t. Chan said you didn’t even flinch. Why?”
“It doesn’t bother me.” Jisung shrugged his shoulders. He didn’t have to fake the nonchalance this time. It genuinely did not bother him.
“Bullshit,” Seungmo snapped, making Jisung jump slightly at the change in tone. “I haven’t met a single outsider who didn’t care. Not one who didn’t use it against him somehow, someway. You people will latch onto anything to try and bring us down. Like a bunch of fucking leeches.”
Jisung stayed silent for at that, not sure how to respond as Seungmo’s eyes pierced him with accusation. Then, realization flashed in his dark eyes, and Jisung’s body tensed with anticipation for what was coming next.
“Unless you’re like him.”
The words hung between them, making the air heavy and palpable.
Jisung stilled. He expected a smirk, a jab, anything then the response he was given. Seungmo’s expression wasn’t mocking. It was curious. Almost desperate.
Jisung’s fingers toyed with a shard of broken wood left behind from your shattered mug days before. He turned it once, twice, then finally met Seungmo’s impatient gaze. “I am.”
He watched Seungmo’s eyes widen. He leaned back, silent, as if Jisung had just flipped a table and yelled in his face. The silence stretched until Jisung thought he’d snap from it. Then, Seungmo spoke, his voice softer, stripped of his armor. “How do you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Live with it. Openly.”
Jisung’s mouth twisted. He debated keeping his mouth shut and not giving Seungmo anything, but deep down, Jisungs heart ached for Jeo. He was living in secrecy, too afraid to be himself. Which was understandable but is still wasn’t the way to live a happy and fulfilling life.
The people that cared about him shouldn’t mind it, and those who did, didn’t deserve a place in his life. He probably hasn’t met another person like him ever. Which was the only reason Jisung decided to be honest instead of replying with sarcasm.
“I don’t give people that kind of power anymore. I grew up drowning in my own shame and guilt. Every beating, every sneer, it all taught me the same lesson. So now, I’d rather be honest. It hurts less when I own it. At least if I’m beaten half to death, it’s for being who I really am, not for pretending.”
Memories flicked through his mind like a racehorse. Hands and fists, smoke and brothel rooms where he’s been nothing more than a body for others to use. Jisung pushed the scenes down and let out a sighed as he began toying with the wooden sharp.
“Are you happy?” Seungmo asked suddenly.
Jisung blinked. That question cut deeper than any fist had, and after a long pause, he nodded. “Yeah, I am.”
“Even with all the stares? The slurs? The fights?” Seungmo pushed on. It would’ve been annoying if it were for the sudden look of desperation in his eyes. He was only trying to do what he could to help Jeo, and Jisung couldn’t fault him for that.
“Even then,” Jisungs voice steadied. “Because every time I live openly, is makes it easier for someone else to do that same. Maybe some kid watching will realize he doesn’t have to hide forever. Maybe he’ll find courage where I didn’t have any. And that’s worth it.”
Seungmo just stared at him, expression suddenly unreadable. The brig was silent except for the soft groan of the ship and the waves striking the wall. Jisung let his gaze drift, the shard of wood still spinning between his fingers as memories clawed their way up again. Smoke, sweat, the sound of laughter that wasn’t laughter at all.
His chest ached, and he blinked hard, trying to pull himself back to the present, but the silence only deepend. Seungmo was staring at his fingers as he fidgeted with them, lost in thought, calculating what he should say next, and Jisung didn’t dare to stop him.
A moment later, Seungmo opened his mouth, eyes furrowed as he glanced back up at Jisung.
“Do you think Jeo should be open about it?” Seungmo asked finally, his voice low and cautious, like he was testing the waters.
Jisung’s fingers still mid-spin. The question hit closer to home than he expected. He knew all too well the cost of hiding who you were, the fear that gnawed at you in moments of silence, the utter exhaustion of keeping every part of yourself tucked away.
“Maybe,” he said slowly, choosing his words carefully. “But it’s not about forcing anyone. Some people need time, others need space. And some people just don’t know what they’re capable of until they see someone else living honestly.”
Seungmo’s brow furrowed. “So, you think seeing someone like him, someone like you, could help him?”
Jisung shrugged, the motion small but deliberate. “Believe it or not, a lot of people are scared to be themselves. But when they see someone else standing there, surviving and thriving despite it all, it gives them courage. It might just give Jeo the push he needs. Or it won’t. But at least he’ll know it’s possible.”
Seungmo was quiet for a long time. Jisung could tell the words were buzzing about in his brain. His shoulder sagged slightly, tension easing, though his gaze remained on Jisung, studying him like he was trying to memorize his face.
“You really mean that?” Seungmo asked after a moment, voice softer now and tinged with something akin to awe.
Jisung met his gaze, finally allowing a small, honest smile to break through. “I do. But don’t mistake it for weakness. Courage isn’t about being unafraid, it’s about standing up anyway. That’s all any of us can do.”
The silence that followed was different this time. Not heavy, not threatening, just silent. Waves lapped against the hull, the gentle rocking of the ship keeping them grounded.
Seungmo leaned back in his chair after a moment, exhaling a low, thoughtful grumble.
“You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that.” He said simply. “I can see why someone would want you around.”
Jisung chuckled faintly, the sound rough around the wince of pain that followed. “Being careful isn’t the same as giving in, and being brave doesn’t you unbreakable.”
For a few minutes, Jisung sat in silence, the tension between him and Seungmo easing a fraction. It looked like Seungmo had so much more to say but wasn’t sure how to say it. He opened his mouth and closed it several times, bobbing like a fish, before footsteps echoed on the desk above, breaking the calm. His head flickered towards the door as the familiar sound of someone moving across the ship carried faintly.
“Looks like my watch is over,” Seungmo said quietly. He stood and tucked the stool away before brushing his hands against his thighs. Jisung gave him one last look.
“Think about what I said,” Jisung spoke before he could stop himself. “About Jeo. About living honestly. He’s not as alone as he thinks he is.”
Seungmo nodded slightly, the words sinking in. “I’ll think about it,” He muttered before retreating up the stairs, letting the door close softly behind him.
The brig was silent for merely a moment before the door was opening again. Jisung’s shoulders tensed at the sound of someone coming in, but when he heard the familiar thud of a footstep, then wood hitting wood, then a footstep again, a breath of relief left his mouth.
Yongbok.
The man Jisung was quickly coming to favor over everyone else on the ship, you possibly included, reached the bottom of the stairs with his usual basket of medical supplies and a basin of fresh water in his hands.
“Still in one piece, I see. Though I’d wager it feels otherwise.” Yongbok said softly with a smile as he opened Jisung’s cell and set his supplies down on the ground. Jisung pulled himself off the cot and planted himself on the ground so Yongbok could work better and maybe take some of the pressure off his leg. Jisung wanted to ask about it. Yongbok said it was a story for another time, and that time came, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so.
Instead, Jisung gave him a weak, lopsided grin, not wanting to admit how happy he was to see him. Yongbok was slowly becoming a lifeline on the ship for him, and he knew he would be eternally grateful for the kindness and care Yongbok had given him. If he could live longer, he’d spend his life paying back the debt of keeping him alive for the journey back to Serpent Point. Lord knows nobody else on this ship wanted him to be.
“Depends on how you define ‘piece’.”
Yongbok gave him another grin as he carefully got to work, unwrapping the bandages across Jisungs forehead. The cloth peeled away, sticky with blood, tugging a hiss of pain out of Jisung’s throat.
“Sorry,” Yongbok murmured with his usual gentle tone. “Hurts less if you breathe through it.”
Jisung clenched his jaw but did what he was told anyway, focusing on the calm presence before him and not the throbbing in his head. There was no judgement in Yongboks eyes, only concern, a steady kindness that felt foreign after being under everyone else’s wrath.
Yongbok calmly tended to the bandages, peeling them away, cleaning the wounds, and reapplying fresh supplies. It was almost therapeutic in the way Yongbok was gracefully touching him if it weren’t for the pain that would occasionally shoot out across his head and body.
Jisung took the time to observe Yongbok and really take in the details of his face.
Lightly tanned skin, freckled cheeks from too much time in the sun, a kind of softness you only found from those who have been through the worst storms. His steady eyes were bright, smile easy and kind, blue hair flowing down to his shoulders. He was a very pretty human being, and Jisung tried not to blush at the thought.
Sure, he fell into the same boat as Jeo, enjoying the company and attention from both genders, but he didn’t think he would feel that way about the crew keeping him prisoner. But Yongbok was different.
“You can ask,” Yongbok so spoke suddenly into the quiet, Jisung jumped in surprise.
“Ask what?”
“I can feel your gaze burning into my leg, Mate. I know you’re itching to find out. I told you it was a story for another time, and it you still want the story, I’ll give it to you.”
Jisung just swallowed, and if Yongbok sensed his unease, he didn’t show it. It was quiet again as Yongbok let Jisung decide if this was something he still wanted to know or not.
Finally, curiosity managed to win out, and he whispered into the silence.
“What happened?”
To his surprise Yongbok let out a small smile as he set his cloth down.
“It was a long time ago,” Yongbok began, his voice quieter now. “I was eighteen years old when Serpent Point was attacked. My family lived near the harbor, close enough to hear the bells when they rang. I tried to get me and my brother to safety, but the attackers were everywhere.”
Jisung swallowed hard, breath catching in his throat at the unexpected answer.
“A boulder hit the neighbours house, and the fire from it spread to ours. The beams of our roof collapsed, and I got trapped under one. Crushed my leg so bad, they had to take if off.” he gestured to the sturdy oak peg that was snugly secured just below his knee. “Used to be this old piece of shit metal contraption, but Binni built this one for me years ago.”
Jisung’s mind spun. The truth hit him hard. He had been apart of the attack that led to the destruction, to the collapse of Yongbok’s home, to the leg he lost. Guilt swelled up so fiercely in his chest, he felt like he was going to throw it up. He somehow managed to push it back down with a small, short breath. “And your family?”
Yongbok’s smile faltered, but he kept it steady. “My parents didn’t make it. The Captain pulled me and my brother out before the damage could get worse. She helped us get to safety, and I consider myself lucky for that.”
“Lucky,” Jisung scoff, jaw tightening as he wrestled with the secret burning in his chest.
“Yes,” Yongbok said firmly, looking him in the eyes with such conviction it was unbelievable. “Because I survived. My parents weren’t good people, but I couldn’t let losing them and my leg define me. So, I joined the Captain and decided to focus on what she brought me instead. A family. A real family. This crew gave me a reason to keep going.”
Yongbok’s voice trailed off. It wasn’t heavy, just settled, like a man who made peace with the pieces of himself that would never fit together again.
Jisung didn’t know what to say to that. He’d expected pity, or bitterness, or some righteous speech about loyalty, but it never came. It was just a quiet steadiness, like carrying the pain was something that could be lived with.
“You know, most people think I became a surgeon because it was the only job left for someone like me,” Yongbok continued softly. He had set his cloth down and stretched out his leg, a small wince coming to his face as he did so. “Someone with one leg, you know? Someone with no formal training, no future. But that’s not true.”
Jisung blinked slowly, lost in a trance at the way Yongbok spoke. He seemed wise beyond his years and had he met Yongbok on a street or in a tavern in some small town, he never would’ve believed the stories coming from his mouth. Yongbok was too kind, too cheerful, too forgiving for someone who had been through what he’d been through. But here he was, living despite it all.
With a hard swallow, Yongbok discarded his medical supplies and shifted to sit fully on his butt across from Jisung, palms planted against the ground behind him. He spoke to Jisung as if he was a person and not a prisoner, and it made Jisung’s stomach flutter with a feeling he’d lost long ago.
Hope.
“Why did you?”
“My brother,” he said quietly, eyes shifting to the wall next to Jisung, gaze lost in a place far far away from here. “He was sixteen when the attack happened. When the Captain pulled us from the rubble, he wasn’t breathing right. His lungs had been crushed, and you could hear the fluid rattling through his chest every time he tried to take a breath.”
Jisung felt his stomach churn like it was filled to the brim with rotten milk. He began to feel light-headed and his body tingled as Yongbok continued speaking, completely unaware of the guilt boiling in Jisung’s body.
“There was nothing I could do. I didn’t know how to help him. How to stop the internal bleeding, or how to even soothe him through the pain. I didn’t know anything. The Captain held him while he died, and I just… sat there, watching.”
Yongbok bit his lip and turned to meet Jisung’s eyes in a soft, heartbreaking smile.
“After he passed, I swore I’d never be helpless like that again,” he murmured. “Never stand there useless while someone I cared about slipped through my fingers.”
Jisung’s throat tightened as he held back an unexpected ball of emotions. He could feel the lump in his throat, willing himself not to cry at the story of a loss he caused.
“So, I learned everything I could. Herbs, sutures, wound cleaning, field medicine. I apprenticed under a doctor in Eagle’s Bay for three years. He was the best man I’ve ever known. He died saving six children from a fever outbreak because he refused to rest, but I suppose that’s the curse of caring too much.”
Jisung remained quiet as Yongbok let out a small exhale and sent him a faint smile.
“I ran into the Captain by chance out there, when she was recruiting Seungmo and Jinn, and she accepted me without a second thought. Told me I’d done enough bleeding for people I didn’t know, and said if I was going to keep patching up fools, it might as well be fools she trusted.”
Jisung huffed a weak laugh at that, trying to mask the ice-cold feeling of horror in his veins.
“She sounds like the type.” He said carefully.
“You have no idea,” Yongbok grinned, the loyalty and trust he had in you shining brightly despite his past making his eyes glassy. “That’s why I do this. Not because I have to. Not because anyone made me. But because I never want to watch someone else die, and be left thinking, ‘If only I’d known how to help.’”
Jisung swallowed around the tightening in his chest. Yongbok didn’t know what his story meant to him, the man who had caused one of his loved ones to die. It twisted something deep inside him, leaving him feeling raw and vulnerable and painfully aware of every sin he’d ever committed.
It was silent for a minute, neither of them saying a thing. Jisung, because he was too riddled with guilt to even utter a single syllable, and Yongbok, who seemed to be lost in a whirlwind of memories. Eventually, after several long minutes of silence, Yongbok cleared his throat softly and stood, brushing off his trousers.
“Well,” he said, forcing lightness back into his voice. “That’s enough of my rambling for one night.”
He checked Jisung’s bandages one last time, tightening a knot with gentle fingers. “You’re healing better than you should be. Try not to ruin that by picking fights from your cot.”
Jisung huffed a faint laugh. “Doesn’t seem like I get much say.”
“That’s because you don’t,” Yongbok smiled. “Sleep if you can. I’ll be back in the morning.”
He turned towards the exit but paused, glancing back at him with a softness in his gaze that caused that feeling of hope to flicker once more.
“You’re not as alone as you think you might be.”
His words were eerily similar to the ones he’d told Seungmo earlier, but he ignored it. Because the words weren’t just words. They weren’t a promise, not words of forgiveness or anger.
Just a quiet truth from someone who had survived worse.
Then he disappeared up the stairs, and Jisung was left alone again.
Series Taglist: @moonlightndaydreams @collisvng @frequentlykit @kaiyaba @n0y4 @chuuyaobsessed @newhope8 @palindrome969 @krayzieestay @lunearta @nightmarenyxx @queen-in-the-shadows @xiubaek-13 @xxscarletchains86xx @skzlover24 @hannnnjiiiiii (red means I couldn't tag you!)
Changbin showing his man boobs and abs? Here for it. Totally here for it.
But I’ve noticed some Stays who weren’t even biasing him suddenly buying his album just because of that picture. Like… if you start stanning him for his body, you’re weird.
What if he gains the “weight” back? What if this was just a one-time thing? Are y’all gonna unstan him then? Be serious.
Stan him for the right reasons — because he’s funny, because he’s baby girl, because he’s full of principles and aegyo. Not because he’s showing skin.
That being said, I’m really glad he did it on his timeline, not because he was pressured to. And the confidence he radiated? Absolutely magnetic. Straight up powerful.
warnings: alien!han & human!reader ⋆ switch!han & switch!reader ⋆ tentacle!play (han has a different anatomy!) ⋆ sucking tentacles! & penetration by tentacles! ⋆ sensory!play⋆ small!dry humping ⋆ obsessive behavior ⋆ a lot of drooling ⋆ dirty talk ⋆ han whimpers a lot⋆ spitting! ⋆ biting! ⋆ marking! ⋆ nipple!play ⋆ overstimulation ⋆ oral (f. receiving) ⋆ cunnilingus ⋆ breading kink! (ehm a very big one) ⋆ tummy bulge!⋆ unprotected!sex ⋆ creampie!
summary: after so many wishes, you almost learned to accept it — the silence, the feeling that your fate had already been sealed by your own loneliness, but then, after so many nights of whispering your hopes, one of them was finally heard and its answer came falling from the sky…
main masterlist
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Everyday was the same for you — a never ending circle. It was all too quiet for you after a while. You wished for a change, even the smallest one, because you couldn’t accept that this is it. You wished for a change in anything and everything — when you would blow on a dandelion or even when you would find a piece of clover, but none of it worked. Your life was simple, almost perfect, you really had no reason to be wishing for something more, but to you, it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t what you needed. On each birthday or new year, you just decided to hope — hope that it would come to you eventually. However you did break your own promise, a single wish that somehow was heard — heard from the stars above.
You don’t even know, what you wanted anymore. If something would come, you think you wouldn’t know what to do. Every day you woke up to the sound of the rooster singing in the coop. A small farm at the outskirts of a small city was given to you by your aunt and being a struggling young adult, you took the opportunity. You just didn’t know that would be the last gift you would ever receive from her. She passed away few months after that, like it was her last wish. You can still remember her smiling at your clumsiness and the way you struggled to even feed the animals from a close distance. You could have gone home, sold this place which she gave to you — but you would never do that to her. Not after everything she done for you, living her last moments with you, showing you what she loved the most and that is why you feel so horrible of asking for a change. It was her home after all, everything here is still hers, she did everything — you just wished you could bring something of yours to this place too.
Sometimes you think you don’t deserve it — everything she left you, but you then remember her telling you that there was no other person that could have deserve this more than you. From all the production her lovely farm gives, you didn’t have to worry about working, just living and that is maybe what you struggle with the most. You want a change, however you don’t do anything to get it — you hate yourself because of it, that you just expect it will fall right on your head. The once difficult things had passed, they were now simple — your everyday routine, but still you always try to find even the slightest of changes.
Today, just like any other, was spent outside. Your own body was moving around unconsciously, on an instinct, while your mind was stuck. You wonder why you didn’t try more and maybe go for the thing you have spent most of your life studying for, but deep down you knew that it just wasn’t enough…you wanted something more — something otherworldly. Something new that could open your clouded mind and see that it all make sense. With you being here, with you deciding to stay and wait for a bit longer. The animals keep you company at least, reminding you that you are not so alone as you might think. The cat left by your aunt didn’t leave your side — a beautiful black, fluffy ball, lighting up most of your days. However, today it was different…
From the way she kept looking around, like searching, sitting closely to your side, observing her surroundings — you didn’t think much of it, till you noticed the others behaving differently as well. You are no fool, you know that animals sense things humans cannot, but somehow you felt your heart beating just a bit faster than usual. You blamed it on the earth itself. It was so quiet throughout the day, more than you are used to. It was a beautiful day, but it felt like it was the calm right before a storm and you were only proven right, when you saw the news. A meteor shower was announced, at midnight and that is a change you were waiting for all along — but as all people say…change comes, when you least expect it and that because true.
The farm was a little away from the city and even at night its lights weren’t strong as the once in the sky. You could probably name each and every star from memory, still counting them down, till you maybe find a new one. Never once you saw one passing however, like you were stuck in time, but the sudden news, made you feel warm in expectation. Maybe you could make a one last wish, maybe it would bring you something that would change your view of the world around you forever.
At night, everything turns quiet — even the crickets and the owl, that would always sing in the distance. You feel a slight bite at the tips of your fingers, making you pull the blanket around you just a bit tighter. Your warm breath materializes infront of you, clouding your vision for a moment, before it dissolves into the night’s breeze. You are alone, you know it, but being alone for so long couldn’t stop the paranoia slowly creeping up on you. You feel a presence, somewhere far away, but you only shake your head at yourself, head tilting up to the sky. A soft purr echoes under you, slight pressure digging into your leg, making you snap out of your thoughts all together.
You don’t know for how long you have been waiting outside, staring into the abyss up in the skies, waiting — just waiting for something to appear between the already known stars. You feel silly somehow, sitting outside on your porch, while the others in the world are doing something else with their lives, already forgetting about the simple, small news that brought you a sense of excitement. However you feel lucky, because you know that you might be the first one to see it, first one to make a wish. Another sigh leaves you, cold biting your cheeks, when a small gust of wind passes by. It brings you a fresh breath of air, an unfamiliar feeling that momentarily makes you choke, because at that a first light passes in the sky.
The shinning light reflects in your eyes, pupils galloping another one passing by. It is beautiful — you sometimes forgot how your planet can be this mesmerizing and you can’t help, but wonder if maybe you are not the only one up there experiencing such a show. You start to count them, but each time another one passes by, now too many up in the sky, that it made you lose your count. So you decide to just to admire, just wait. Each meteor cuts through the darkness, flying through the sky, till they disappear behind the trees. Every one of them flies the same way, like they also have a destination to fulfill. But then you saw it — a one so different from the others.
It is faster, brighter than the others and you blink a little as you swear it had a different hue of color to it too. Everything stills for a moment, your next breath not leaving you as you watch it glide through the sky. It passes the others, falling faster and you swear you can see it moving into a different direction — like it came from a whole different place than the others. That is what you were waiting for…you were waiting for a feeling, for the right star that you wish upon. In the midst of the meteor shower, the bright light seems so out of space — moving so differently, but it seems like it had a destination just like the other. So before it vanishes, you try to make your wish. However your mind was frozen, completely mesmerized, eyes unmoving and forgetting…though you didn’t know that your wish was already heard.
When the striking glow disappears, the feeling doesn’t — like something was slowly making its way to you. To your heart, body and mind all together. It was nothing, just a one small change shouldn’t make you feel like this. It was something that you quite couldn’t comprehend yet, like somewhere in your head there was a door ready to be open. When it left, so did your interest. You didn’t find the appeal to watch the sky any longer, but you tell yourself it was the cold lightly biting at your skin. Standing up to your feet, your blanket drips around you, flowing lightly in the night’s breeze as you make your way inside.
The old home creeked at your every step, the sound of the wood under your feet almost screeching in the quietness. A wave of tiredness washes over you, blinking rapidly at the sudden feeling, shoulders drooping. You didn’t even notice how your muscles were screaming for you to lay down till now, slowly melting from the freezing outside. It was something about the darkness around you — it felt so different somehow, you couldn’t help but quicken your steps to your bathroom, heart beating faster. Paranoia…or was it? You have always felt safe here, knowing that there wasn’t no human being anywhere near you, but that was it.
You swallow your deep breath of what seem like fright, closing the door behind you like it could close off the feeling altogether. However even when your hands come to shed your clothes, even when you stepped inside your shower — warm water piercing your cold bitten skin, it doesn’t go away. Being so alone, without any contact of another, really maybe does something to a person. You are just searching for it, seeing it and imagining — your own mind is playing ticks on you again. It happened before, so many times, when you first stayed here…each one you think it might be different, that you maybe be right, but now — you hope you are not. It truly feels like something out of this planet, something that your human self can’t quite catch…before it is too late.
Your bed awaits for you, cold, even when you pull your covers up to your chin. It is so lonely. You lack the warmth. Your eyes stay on the moonlight hitting the walls — no movement, no shadow passing by…You want to fight the exhaustion, not ready to close your eyes just yet, like something would appear the moment you do. You sigh softly at yourself, blowing hot air onto your freezing fingers, curling up into a ball to fight the cold as well as the feeling of upcoming doom. No one is here…that’s what you repeat to yourself silently, eyes drifting close for a brief second. You couldn’t fight no more, a low hum filling your exhausted mind, the sound taking you to, what seem like an almost blissful sleep.
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You feel a small trail of sweat gathering at your hairline, skin ablaze from the duvet draped over your body, caging you in the suffocating heat. The air in the room is the same — cold, but you can almost taste the sudden density of it. Your mind is awake before your eyes can blink open, the state you are in making your wonder if you had a nightmare…no, you weren’t dreaming. Your head is in a haze, muscles strained, not even twitching, ready to fall back into the land of dreams, before you hear a sound. It was quiet, hidden by the humming of your blood in your ears. Just a creek of your old wooden home.
The house talks all the time, the years spend here reflecting in its state. You are still too exhausted to even move, but the sound does linger. You are pulled back to your reality slowly, the uncomfortable heat under your blankets making you finally take a move — just a small shift, another groan of the wood is heard…but it didn’t came from your bed. It was coming from outside your door. Your eyes open at that, still glued together with sleep, staring up to your bedroom’s ceiling. The cold air however doesn’t soothen you and you ignore your body trying to pull you back to sleep as your heart beat quickens and hearing sharpens.
No sound — maybe you have imagined it, maybe it was just the house, nothing more. You look down your body, eyes falling on to your cat who is soundly asleep next to your feet. The thought of maybe her being the cause of the sound flies away and now you can’t help, but feel uneasiness rising in you, because never once you have woken up just like that. Maybe your unconsciousness sensed something unfamiliar, something different. Then — then you hear it again, a creak, louder, heavier and it makes you gasp lightly. It sounded like a crash, the noise ringing in your ears. You don’t feel a stir next to you on the bed, but you are sure the thing you heard, wasn’t your mind playing tricks on you.
It couldn’t be the wind banging against your windows or one of the animals maybe coming loose — no, it was inside, right here with you. You become wide awake, fear filling you as you slowly and carefully sit up. You don’t want to believe for a moment longer, just so you could calm your racing heart, but the more you turn to stare at your bedroom door, the more you became uneasy. It is still dark, your bedside clock reading 3:00 am — the witching hour. You must be dreaming, this must be a true nightmare.
In your exhausted state you forgot to bring your phone here with you, such a stupid mistake to do. The air shifts around you as you pull your covers down your body. It is so quiet, unnaturally so. It could be anything — anyone. What if you are not so safe here as you once thought? Between your anxiety and fear, you feel a spark of curiously dispise yourself. There is no way you could just lay back down and fall asleep, knowing that the sound you heard wasn’t your imagination. You suddenly remember about the baseball bat your aunt kept after her husband — a once sweet memory how the two have met on a playing field could probably save your life as well.
You shuffle down your bed, feet touching the freezing floor. You are quiet, you try to be, breath becoming heavy as you realize what you are actually doing. However there was no escape here for you, nowhere to hide — window to your bedroom was too high for you to jump down without breaking a bone. You choose the fight in your instinct, making your way to the closet. When you open it, your eyes instantly fall to your chosen weapon, momentarily hasitent. Bang! Your heart almost jumps from your chest, head whipping to the door. The noice was different, no doubt that it wasn’t the house itself — each time they were louder, not frequent and with no rhythm.
Somebody is inside…Your hesitation disappears, shaking hands grasping the bat, standing slowly up on your trembling legs. It almost sounded like something fell and you hate that you will soon find out what exactly it was. The wooden floors creek lightly under your feet, realizing that one of the sounds you heard was maybe a footstep as well. You always were more scared of humans than the animals. They were unexpected, full of emotions that could burst so suddenly. You are shaking in terror, when you go to the door to wrap your hand around the door knob. You know that the person — you still hope it isn’t, definitely knows about you. Your belongings lay everywhere, your house warm in the sense of a human touch.
You hold your breath, grip tight around your weapon, that however still shakes in your mocked strong grasp. You realize that you have no idea about the verabouts of your enemy — they might be just waiting for you. No, if they were, they would be quieter, stealthier. You really can’t help it, but feel curious about their intentions. If it is an intruder, why are being so loud? Their actions became more vivid, the more you stayed back, like they wanted you to finally come out from your hiding…Maybe it is a trap. Though also if they wanted to hurt you, wouldn’t they do that when you were asleep? You really can’t keep guessing, it only makes your head spin, unfocused.
You take a deep breath, finally finding the courage to push the door open just slightly, ears pricking at any sound that could indicate danger. Nothing — why is it like that? One second you hear something and then it becomes eerily silent, you quickly realize that it wasn’t that…it was in the distance. Your eyes scan through the hallway, no one, no print or a door open. But then you hear the faintest of a noise — like a sigh. It sounded human, the reality washing over you like a cold shower. Your vision lands into the direction, head sticking out of the doorway, till your eyes land on the stairs. It came from downstairs…
You can’t fight the tears of fright anymore, even so, you still take a move to walk outside your room to the open. You are being stupid — you know that, but there was no other way for you to go. With careful steps, both of your hands come to wrap around the handle of your weapon. Maybe if you are quick enough, you could run out, but your small plan is so incomplete as you don’t even know who you are even facing. You just have to trust yourself of not holding back, if it will be needed. Walking your way towards the staircase, you cringe lightly as even with the most careful steps the floor under you creeks. Even if you heard the sound coming from downstairs, you found yourself looking back into the dark. You can’t even switch a light on, only the light of the moon lighting up your dark path — you can only listen and hope.
With the first step on the stairs, you plant your feet so they would slide across the small platform, knowing that even the sound of your heal hitting the surface could alert the thing in your house. You breathe out every time you descent more, silently counting down, till it becomes one — only one more and you will be at the same level. However you stop yourself, standing up right on the last step, whole body trembling. A single tear rolls down your cheek when you hear a shuffle not so far from you, coming right from your kitchen. The door to the outside is also there and you now know that you can’t do anything, but fight. You can’t run — that would be stupid of you as the person might be standing right around the corner.
You stare is plastered on the painting before you — a beautiful, yet simple landscape of the outside you have come to love, the one which you so long for. It is so dark however, you are only picturing it in your mind. Your eyes fall down to your feet, not ready to take the step that might be your last. Though your vision is so minimal, it didn’t mean you couldn’t sense anything else. A wave of sweet, metallic smell hits your nose, face flashing with confusion just for a moment. You realize that maybe your eyes were only clouded by your own dark thoughts, because as you turn to look into the direction of your kitchen, they come to find something way more interesting.
It was glowing — a purple fluorescent substance stained the surface of the floor. You haven’t seen anything like it before, it was blooming with life. The sight strikes you so much that you don’t even realize you have stepped down from the last step. How did you not see it? Were you so scared, that you truly weren’t aware of your surroundings as you thought you were? Your eyes must be deceiving you…However when you step closer, the smell hits your nose again. It was familiar — recognizable, but how can it be coming from something so foreign? You take a small step closer to it, just a shuffle, before you kneel down to the small puddle.
It didn’t look appealing nor disgusting, it was almost mesmerizing to you. It didn’t look artificial, it was just some sort of liquid. Your fingers twitch next to you, eager to touch the glowing substance, but a sound stops you. Your eyes widened, momentarily frozen at your spot, because it sounded like a grunt — a sigh filled with pain. Then a shadow leans out of the doorframe of your kitchen, making you jump back up to your feet. Your heart stops, hands shaking as you hold your weapon over your head, watching in fright as the silhouette of a figure appears from the dark.
Trembling with horror, your sound of being startled gets stuck in your throat — the figure is hunched up, seeing their hand tightly gripping the doorway, but even, when another sound of pain leaves their lips, you don’t feel any pity nor curiosity. “Stay back!” Your voice is not a loud or strong as you wanted it to be, realizing that your biggest fear became true. However it seems like you were not the only one startled….Their head tilts to you and you don’t have to see their eyes to know that they are looking at you. They slightly jump at your voice, like they weren’t expecting anyone to be here — no, you know better than that, but you pray that you won’t live up to their intentions with you.
They suddenly move — sharply, but not intentionally it seems like, because they nearly lose their footing while doing so. Though it makes you back away from them, mind stuck and you have to scream at yourself for waiting. Waiting — you wish you didn’t have to do that. Their hand leaves the doorway, balancing on air, their move also making them show their other hand. It was coated with the same substance as the floor, illuminating their palm, as they held it up in defense. “I am hurt–“ Their voice is rough, small cough leaving their lips and by the lower tone you realize they are a man. A man got into your house…
You raise your weapon higher, but something stops you from swinging it — he lets out a near sob. Like a reminder, the smell of the liquid rushes back to your nose and when your eyes slowly drift to his shoulder you see it…an outline of a wound, illuminated what you think might be blood. “Hurt?” You repeat in disbelief, eyebrows furrowing, stare not moving from his shoulder. You must be seeing things — this is a dream, it must be, because why are you actually believing that the fluorescent substance is blood. The fear of unknown makes you shake, backing away from him even when you seem to have the upper hand. You think you don’t want to why and what you are seeing right now.
He must realize you are only more frightened by the sight of his blood, but it doesn’t stop him from moving closer to you, his hand glowing in the darkness. “I am not here to hurt you…” He says softly, voice still broken with pain. His words don’t move you, don’t make you feel better — because he is slowly making his way towards you.
Backing away, each time you take a step, he only moves closer to you, your head whipping around in panic. You know that you can’t just bash his head right now — wake up from this nightmare, but you can only seem to able to cry in fright. “I said — stay back!” You scream at him, not fully convincing even yourself that you sound strong and confident. “I will call the police!” Your words are frantic and you are in shock that you are acting the worst way possible in this situation. You shouldn’t be talking to him, you should be running or fighting right now, but you are too frozen with fear.
Your feet hit the stairs again, almost falling over, making you look back. It was just that second, that was enough from him to step slightly into the light of the moon. You still can’t see his face properly, but you can make out the outline of his features and his glimmering eyes, staring right into yours. You both are so close to each other right now and that makes even him stop for a moment just to look at you. Your skin burns under his piercing stare, chest heaving, trying to keep up with your racing heart. He slightly towers over you, even with his hunched up figure, hands falling to his side in defeat as he lightly wobbles in his spot.
You have no where to go, you are completely caged — no, you could, you just…you just don’t want to somehow. You are too struck by everything, from his appearance to the way he really doesn’t seem to want to harm you. However you still can’t be so sure, but one thing that ease you a little is that he truly seemed to be in pain. Your eyes blink, seeing him in a new light, watching his shoulders moving harshly with his fastening breaths. The grip on your weapon loosens just a little, frowning when your eyes go back to his wound. You can see it better now and the thing that scares you the most is that it looks real — his blood is radiating, the color of a vibrant purple, leaking from the cut the more he breaths out.
You can’t breathe yourself for a moment, trying to see if this is the true reality you are experiencing. He is different — how much you still don’t know and it should scare you more than make you curious. “Y-your blood…” Your own voice is foreign to you, trailing your eyes over his body like you are trying to figure out where the lie begins. There is nothing however…he is real. Your words seem to wake him up from the trance he was in. Unknowingly to you — you weren’t the only some mesmerized by the sight in front of you.
“Don’t be scared, please-“ He breaths out, his plea ending in a whine. He doesn’t look away from you, but you can see the way the light in his eyes dims a little. His whole body starts to tremble, hands trying to steady himself. It happens so fast…His body stills, breathing shudders, eyes close and just like that, you don’t even have the time to feel startled as he falls down to the ground, completely motionless.
You stare at the spot he was once standing at and it was almost like his presence was still there right in front of you. Sigh leaves your lips, tasting the saltiness of the few tears you have shed. You should feel relief — relief that this man who broke into your home was laying unconscious on the floor, but your worries only grew bigger. His body hit the ground hard, move so unexpected that you still are trying to fully grasp all of what has just happened. Your head tilts down to his direction, lying down in the spot where the streak of moon light was the brightest. His longer, dark hair covers his face, chest softly rising, indicating that your problem only seem to become bigger, than you anticipated.
Should you call the police? Should you just leave him there? Let his open wound out in the air? Do you — are you really thinking about helping him? You don’t even know what or who you are dealing with, but still the reality that he might be something other than human being, starts to rise to the surface. You are defeated, putting down the baseball bat you held over your head, heart beating in your ears. In the light you can finally take a look at him — he was lean, but under his foreign attire you can make out desent amount of muscle that makes you realize that if he wanted to, he would have taken you down easily. Not to mention you still don’t know what he is…
Your own legs move before you can process it, walking closer to his body and to the small puddle next to him. You really should be running right now, calling for help, but it is like something is drawing you in. Behind the metallic smell, there is something sweeter — scent so interesting and intense that it makes you fall softly to your knees. You don’t tear your eyes away from him for a moment longer, eyes trailing over his jawline and features that are still covered by his hair, but the fluorescent light is too much for you to ignore it any longer. Looking down next to your feet, you now know that there is definitely nothing stopping you from grazing your fingers over the liquid — the only thing that should concern you is completely harmless right now.
You hesitate a little, wild thoughts running through your mind — it’s his blood, you are now completely aware of this reality, but you wonder if it might hurt you in a sense…Like from the movie Alien — unknowingly to you that word will change your whole life completely. Your fingers dip into the substance, withdrawing quickly like you are afraid it would burn you, but to your relief it doesn’t. Your fingers spread the glowing purple across your skin, it isn’t a dye, it isn’t a joke nor a lie. Soft gasp leaves you when from the corner of your eye you see him move, ready to jump back. However there is only a small whimper and a move of his head, hair sliding down his face, till you get a a small glimpse of his nose and lips.
“What…what are you?” You whisper to yourself and like he could hear you, his lips fall apart in a sigh that mixes with yours. You don’t know what to do, because you are still trying to understand everything, but the unknown is too big for you to decide. There are just two choices for you — either you call someone and let them take him away or leave him…right here with you. You feel so stupid that you are leaning towards the other.
Your head pounds, hands reaching towards him, fingers twitching. You still hope that this is a dream somehow, but when you graze your hands over his side, he is warm…he is real. You might regret this, but for now, you told yourself you did the right thing. You shuffle your way behind him, hands sliding down the floor, till they touch the underside of his armpits. The material of his jacket feels soft, but it shined like the most beautiful leather. You shake your head at your own thoughts — you have bigger problems than taking apart his appearance, though that is also a big thing. You sigh heavily through your nose, pushing away your curiosity to concentrate.
Your strength seemed to leave you the moment you heard him walking through your house, almost falling over as you try to pick him up. You can’t believe, you are doing this…Bracing yourself, your hands grip tightly at him, slowly rising to your feet with his upper body. Huffing, your head turns to watch your steps, dragging him over the floor to the direction of your living room. Your heart almost stops, when you hear him let out a small cry, as the tips of your fingers dig under his wound. It makes you look down at his face, but now the dark hides his features from you, yet again.
You ignore him — the best you could, telling yourself that you are actually really kind of not leaving him there on the ground to bleed out. The journey to your couch is short thankfully, but dragging him towards it made you use all of the strength left in you. You take a couple of few needed breaths of oxygen, breathing in each time you pull him. The soft carpet is like a kiss to your frozen feet, but it burns just a little, when you pull him closer to your chest. The scent of his blood hits your nose as well as the other one — sweeter, warmer, you fight the heat trying to creep up on your face as you realize it is his natural scent that smells like this. You tell yourself that it only wraps around your head, because you are pushing your strength to the limit, making you dizzy in the process.
With all of your strength, you let out a small cry as you pull him to the couch. You move out of the way of his body just barely, stumbling slightly as you go to push his feet on the cushion as well. You are thankful that you were quick enough to move, you certainly wouldn’t be able to shove his body of you right now. The adrenaline from before seemed to vanish a long time ago, but if it was present you don’t think it would make any difference in your strength. You are so tired…Huffing, you pull away from him finally, silently asking yourself if you should take his shoes off so he wouldn’t dirty your soft beige couch — you ignore it for now, eyes moving back to the spot on his shoulder.
In the still darkness, his blood is the only light in your living room, sighing softly to yourself at the gruesomeness. Your vision is slowly getting use to the darkness surrounding you and when it was enough, you slip past his body to the switch on the wall. You blink harshly at the sudden brightness, fingers digging into your eyes, but you don’t waste your time — hand reaching before you, blindly trying to touch your fridge. Just at that you come to feel how cold it is, your whole body shivering, goosebumps running up your arms. Your fingers touch the cold surface of the fridge the same second you finally open your eyes.
Your small reflection stares at you for a brief moment, black spot clouding your vision, but you don’t want to acknowledge the look of fright that seems to permanently lock on your features. Pushing yourself on your tippy toes, your hand reaches to the top, grasping the handle of your med kit. It is heavy, hand slapping back to your side, plastic bumping into the softness of your thigh. The pain is subtle, forgotten as you open the small box on the counter. You don’t even know how bad his wound is…and if it truly is bad you don’t think a disinfection and a bandage is gone be any help. Turning around to grab the scissors on your kitchen counter, the knife sitting at the corner blings at you.
You can’t help, but pause, thinking. He might be unconscious and hurt, but what if it is an act? What if he is faking it? Lying to you and waiting for the right moment to strike? Your face falls at your own thoughts, head turning towards his direction, but the racing thoughts seem to dissolve the moment you do so. You can see the top of his head so clearly now, black hair shining in the new light. You forgot about your own thoughts just that, grabbing your supplies quietly. Your eyes don’t move away from him, breath catching each time you get closer and the more skin you see and it is stops, when you come stand right in front of him.
Dark hair framing his soft features, stopping right at his sharper jawline — cheeks plump, just as his pouty lips that are parted with soft sighs. His eyelashes graze his cheekbones, reminiscing his glimmering eyes and the way the pierced through yours. He looks normal, in a sense, but also too perfect, skin is too clear and glowy…blood purple. You blink, eyes still wide and you lap lightly at the air around you. Even injured, his skin glistens, cheeks softly flushed with life and you definitely have to keep it that way — kneeling down by his head to look closer at his injury.
His jacket seems to cover most of it and you hope you won’t anger him for cutting your way in. You gently cut the fabric around his found, the material so dense your scissors almost break. You frown in small confusion, trying harder but each time the blades only get stuck — ‘What is this?’ In the light the fabric flickers in green and purple hues, almost like a fish’s scales. You have nothing sharp enough with you to cut through it, so it only leaves you to tug his jacket down his shoulder.
The material is stuck on his skin by his blood and you feel bad as he whimpers in pain. Though his eyes are still close, even when you gently lift him up to slide his jacket down his upper arm. The dried blood glows dimmer than the fresh one, a scab not letting you see the true damage. Grabbing the disinfectant and piece of cloth you pour the liquid into it, biting your lip at the sting he will feel. Your own hand shakes a little, sitting up on your knees so you are right infront his wound — and his face. The moment you dap a little at the wound with the cloth it twitches, but to your surprise there is nothing more than that. In small relief and confusion, you move your eyes back to his injury that slowly reveals itself.
It just a scratch — nothing deeper than that, but it is big. Maybe this wasn’t why he was hurting so much, because as you wipe away his blood that turns dark purple on the cloth, a bruise appears. You wonder how he got it…As you clean away the last bits of blood, your eyes catch the time on your clock — almost two hours, it already almost have been two hours since you woken up. It is still dark outside, but you know it won’t be long till the sun will rise. How fast can things change…You almost want to laugh in disbelief, shock and tiredness. You are more mentally tired than physically.
You work on his wound quietly, gathering your thoughts slowly. It is fascinating that even the tender skin around his wound is purple and not red like you are use too — you really are believing this. Maybe you have been locked away for too long, maybe you are just schizophrenic and this is all in your head. That would be too good to be true. He is real unfortunately for you and so different, though you still don’t know how much exactly. You are scared of the unknown, you are scared that he might be just lying to your face, trying to get you to treat him, just like you did, before he will strike. But his voice…the sincerity in his tone, the way his eyes blinked at you in plea and pain — you hope you are not digging your own grave with your kindness.
Placing the used cloth and scissors on the table behind you, your nose scrunches up at the alcohol staining your fingers. It burns your senses for a moment, taking few of those napkins you always keep on the table to wipe away the excess. Your eyes strain on the cloth with his blood, its slowly dimming light reflecting in your pupils that become larger as you feel sudden goosebumps raising all over your body. Small gasp gets stuck in your throat, your body reacting way before you hear a rustle of fabric behind you. The groan leaving him isn’t quiet like his sounds before, making you whip your head around, hand falling on top of the used scissors.
You are in shock — eyes wide, glaring at his figure while he starts to shift more in his place. His eyes blink softly open and you wonder what exactly had woken him up…was he even unconscious? You back away from him quickly, standing up to your feet in a jump, watching him raise his hand to his temple. “My head-“ His words end in a hiss, eyes blinking rapidly. You didn’t even have the time to check his head when he fell down, but to your small relief there is no blood staining his fingers.
Everything is moving to fast to your liking — hating the way you didn’t even have a split of time to think about everything that had happened. He is moving too fast, even when his movements are shaky with pain, you still point the scissors at him as he tries to sit up. “Don’t move.” You warn. Your voice cuts through the awful silence and it seems like he just now acknowledged your presence, jumping in his spot, widened eyes meeting yours.
For a second you swear you see his eyes flash purple, matching his blood that stained his jacket, but you are too caught up with trying him to stay still. It is for his own good — raising his hands in surrender, with his elbows supporting his weight, waving his hands in panic. “Okay! Just…can you put that down — please-“ His fingers points at your chosen weapon, lips parting in heavy breaths.
“No.” You say, both hands now grasping the scissors, like you were holding a gun. It is silly really, but somehow your threatening — self defense, is good enough for him to stop moving. You are surprised that he feels threatened by such small scissors, but it helps your body to slow in its shakes, standing crouched on your jelly legs.
“Wait, wait, I-I-“
“How did you come in?” You ignore his stuttering, raising your weapon higher at him, but then his face suddenly falls down, eyes flickering behind you.
“The front door was unlocked…” He says like it was the most normal thing — like it was your fault in the first place. Somehow it feels like it, heat gathering at your cheeks at the realization that you forgot to close the door in your tiredness. Your glare softens just a little, not because you feel sorry for him for whatever reason, however it seems like he thinks that, hands falling back to his side. “I got lost-“
“Lost?” You repeat, cutting him off. You did forgot about locking the door, but still it doesn’t justify him letting himself in. You however understand that the city is quite far, but what could he have been doing out here in the first place? “So you just let yourself in someone’s house?” You raise your voice, but to your surprise his eyebrows drew together in a frown of understanding, not fright like you were expecting. You really must look silly, standing before him in your teddy bear pyjamas, hair a mess and scissors pointing at him.
“I know.” He breaths out, looking ashamed, but not regretful. “I was hurt, I-“ His hands come to his chest, but at his own words he just at that feels the cool air on his exposed skin. His head tilts down to his shoulder, hand trailing over his chest to pull down his jacket that had ride back up. You don’t even register that he sits up with his movements, too shocked by the genuine look of gratitude on his face. “You treated me?” He whispers to himself mostly, fingertips trailing over the bandage on his shoulder.
“Barely…” You say, mimicking his tone of voice. ‘You woke up quickly’, you say to yourself, frowning a little. You are disappointed that you feel warmth by his genuine reaction, watching his blood stained hand squeezing in a fist when his other presses a little over the wound. His blood…purple and shining. Your lips fall apart, thoughts repeating the question that has been haunting, before it is finally being asked. “What are you?”
Your question hangs heavy in the room, hands falling down a little, when he turns to look at you. You didn’t even notice that the purple you saw in his eyes is wrapped around his irises — present, another small difference between you and him. He doesn’t look startled, like he expected, he would have to give you an answer the moment he wakes up, but you see the small hesitation in him. “I am like you- “ He says firstly, but you only shake your hand in disagreement.
“No, you are not.” You both look so alike — though the almost subtle differences are too great to be ignored. If you didn’t see his blood, purple and fluorescent, the flicker in his eyes, there would still be this…inhuman perfection. “I can see your…blood, it isn’t like mine, it is-“ You don’t have to say it out loud, but it does make it more real. You are blinded by your own thoughts, gasping lightly, because when you blink he is suddenly sitting upright right in front of you. How did you not notice him moving? You watch him let out a small groan, hand grasping the side of his head again, but you are too in shock not to panic a little. “Hey — stay back!”
He isn’t even doing anything, he seem to ignore the scissors pointed in his direction, because he realizes something — you are no threat to him, the only treat here is your mind trying to keep up with your heart. He looks you over, from your shaking hands to your frightened eyes, his face shows calmness like he is trying to make you mimick it, but it is really harder than it seems. “You are right, I am not like you.” You knew this yourself, but still hearing him say it — the way he said, it makes you shiver, tremble, standing before him completely frozen in expectation. “I came from far far away, from somewhere your mind can’t even imagine.”
Your breathing shatters — somehow you don’t think he wanted his words to come out the way they did, watching his features soften a little at your startled gasp. However he said the truth and there is no way which to put it to not make you feel less scared. Your world is slowly turning upside down before your very eyes and you hate you can’t do anything about it. He just appeared…”What do you want?” You breath out shakily and his still calmness doesn’t help you feel better.
He frowns at the choice of words. “What do I want?” He repeats, eyes flashing purple, while they scan your trembling body.
You are confused by his own confusion, taking a deep breath in, as your mind fills with every single possibility this could have ended in. “You could have…you could have hurt me when I was asleep, but you didn’t…” Your gaze meets his again, whisper leaving your chapped lips. “Why?”
“Like I said, I got…lost. I-” The word is heavy on his tongue, eyes drifting for a moment like he was contemplating something and when he turns back to you, you see it — the unnatural, purple light in his eyes. He watches you carefully, analyzing each small twitch in your face by each word that leaves his mouth. “My ship got hit by the shower and you were the only one near–“
You can’t hear anything, but the first half — a ship…hit by the meteor shower. The air around you becomes dense, head in daze, because his face doesn’t show even hint of a lie. It explains everything, it could, but the possibility of him being an — you can’t even say it. “A ship? You mean…a space ship?” Your voice is so quiet, you can’t even hear yourself between the ringing in your ears. He is silent still, only nodding to your question that you didn’t even need an answer to. “This is a joke-“ In your state, the scissors slip from your fingers, clacking loudly on the floor.
Your hands come to wrap around your arms, creating an awful excuse for a shield — you are mostly trying to shield yourself from the truth. You can see it, even taste it, but still you need to hear it from his lips. Seal the truth that will change your whole view of the world. “You were the one, who said I was different.” You don’t have to even nod to acknowledge his words, both of you are just waiting for the other — for you to accept it and for him to finally tell you what. The look of horror on your face doesn’t seem to faze him, but he does sigh, creating a small puff of mist before him. “Listen, I know how your humans can be and–“
“Humans?” You are stating it more than questioning it, you already know you are different from each other — separated by the stars, but you need him to say it out loud. “What — what are you then?”
The beat of silence is heavy and in that second pray to wake up from this nightmare, though you are only met with pair of unhuman eyes. “You, like your people, would call me an alien, a creature from another planet.” The truth — the unimaginable truth becomes real. However you can’t fight the denial and fear you still hold.
“No…” You breathe out shakily, hands coming to press against your eyes, even if you know they are not deseaving you. Your ears are not ringing, you heard him clear as a day, your fingers still smell faintly of the disinfection and his blood. You can’t believe it — your whole reality is changed right now. There truly is no denying it…Tears burn your eyes, still heavy with exhaustion and you can’t help, but let out a small cry. You don’t know what to do, the change is too great and too quick for you to handle. You don’t even know if you can truly trust him, because he is more than a man, who appeared in your home uninvited — his whole biology is different. So when your eyes are still close, body turn away a little, you are startled wildly by his voice that comes from the spot right beside you.
“Hey-“ You don’t hear the softness in his tone, nor see the look of concern — you can only see a galaxy reflecting in his eyes. The purple hue, the perfect skin and blushed lips…he is so uncanny in a sense, his moves so smooth and quick that your human self has hard time doing anything else but panic.
His hand is so close to touching you, so careful, yet it is so quick to your eyes. You flinch away before his fingers could even graze your skin, backing away. “Don’t touch me! You are crazy-“ You point at him, head snapping around your surroundings. You don’t want to face him no more, too emotionally drained to just take the truth as it is. Your loudness makes him show his hands in surrender, but you can’t even register what he is doing, taking careful steps back, like you are still debating where to go.
“Wait.” He sighs, but he can only watch your eyes widened as you turn back to him, before you turn swiftly around. “Wait — wait!”
You fear you should have done this way sooner, when you still had the chance…Your naked feet squeak across the polished floor as you dart away from him, cry of fear leaving you. You could have been far away right now, somewhere safe — somewhere you could only be left to wonder of his nature. You could have pretend that it was nothing, but your imagination, but no…you had to be curious, you had to know the truth. And now? Now you are running away like the biggest coward.
You don’t even know where to go, you just want to run away from him, from the responsibility to take in the truth. Your hand digs into the doorway, heart racing in your chest. The only place that could maybe make you feel safer is your bedroom, eyes lifting to the second floor, but just as you were about to run up the stairs you hear fast footsteps approaching you from behind. You only have time to turn your head, your small pause in your quick steps enough for him to close the distance between you two.
You don’t really think — when is hand comes to your shoulder, pressing down, you whip your hands out wildly. Your foot slips on the floor, his hand falling off you, but in your distress you grasp it yourself. Warm skin meets yours, your move too sudden for any of you to do anything other than stumble together down on the floor. A yelp leaves you, landing on your lower back harshly, while he lands infront of you on his knees groaning in pain. You ignore the piercing pressure, shuffling away from him to press your back on the opposite wall.
Your breathing is heavy, just like his and something stops you from picking yourself up again — you can’t run from it, you can only face it now. Watching him, he to your surprise only goes to lean back on the opposite wall to you, hand falling on top his shoulder. “Listen, I — shit–“ Sigh of pain leaves him, eyes still closed, letting you take another look at him.
He didn’t run to hurt you…he just wanted you to stop and listen. You did, but somehow only now it seems to be getting to you. Catching your breath, small specks of sweat gather at your hairline, mostly just from all the emotions you are experiencing. He really doesn’t look like a threat one bit — he looks rather…you can’t quite point it out. Your stare is unmoving from him, watching his hand come to press lightly at his now covered wound, but he withdrews it just as fast. “This isn’t happening…” You mumble, but your words don’t even have any meaning right now — more so, you are now only surprised that you are coming to slowly accept the truth.
“You know, what you saw–“ He says, eyes blinking at you, but they close again to focus on breathing through the pain.
An alien — a creature from another planet or even galaxy is right in front of you, looking so alike. There truly is no explanation for his blood or the shine in his eyes, he is just that much different from you and real. As your heart for the first time slows to a steady rhythm, your mind goes back to few hours ago. He looked more scared than you…hurt, pleading for you to treat him. Even he seemed to be surprised by your gesture, like he already excepted a different fate for himself. You did as well, you thought there would be already police by your door right now, taking him away — not treating him and caring.
You did wish for a change, but this? His words then echo in your mind. Why and what led him here and it makes your lips fall apart. “You were the one I saw in the sky.” You whisper so quietly, but he still does hear you and you swear you can see the memory of the falling meteor reflecting in his eyes. ‘My wish,’ you thought. His chest doesn’t move rapidly no more, nor there is a look of pain on his features, he is just calm and finally you feel yourself mirroring it.
His eyes go momentarily to your arms that held your legs tightly to your chest and he has to sigh at the expression you give him — there is still fear in you somewhere deep inside, but mostly you just look defeated and exhausted. “I won’t hurt you — can’t even if I wanted to-“
His sudden laugh is heavy in the silence that follows and his smile turns quickly sheepish at your small glare. “That doesn’t make me feel better-“ You say, frown prominent, not really finding this situation funny.
“Yeah, sorry-“
He then looks down to the wooden floor, hands clasping together over his lap and you think your staring might be making him a little skittish, but you are too caught up in taking apart his appearance to notice it fully. His pants seem to be from the same material as his jacket, that in the moonlight shows up in deep purple that reflects almost in neon green. Some of the light from the kitchen lets you see his face — so human-like, plump and full of life. If he truly is in such pain that he is expressing, his face doesn’t really show it. There is no wrinkle in sight, just soft looking skin. However till now you didn’t realize his tank top is almost see through, material so reflective you are only getting a small glimpse of skin underneath.
You blink — eyes catching his and you would almost feel embarrassed by your ogling if you didn’t just caught him staring too. You both twitch in your spot, gaze leaving each other for a second, before your words make your eyes meet again. “So, you really are an…alien. You are different from what I thought you guys would be.” You say truthfully and now you really almost want to laugh that you are using the one word in serious matter. Though he beats you to it again, the sound now sounding more genuine and not so dry, but it is still bold, considering you were just few minutes ago refusing to believe his nature. Changes really come in quick…
“Yeah, I know the stories of your kind and your way of interpreting us — though there are some with such resemblance.”
You tilt your head at him, curiousness basically radiating from you. You can’t lie that you weren’t curious before — though you just hope, you won’t regret it. “Some? There are more of you?” You question.
“Well…you actually didn’t believe, you were the only ones up there,no?” That makes you a little embarrassed. Not because you didn’t believe, but because most of people on this planet did — believing they were center of everything. However after some time, you really couldn’t help, but feel this way a little as well. You weren’t a believer, but also not an sceptic, you always wanted to be proven wrong and now? You are talking to one of them, a real one, not an imagination or a character from a movie.
“How do we look so alike?” You exclaim, eyebrows furrowing. His blood and eyes seem to be the only main difference you can spot, but the look he sends you tells you there still might be something there — but both of you know you are not ready for that yet.
“Trust me, we are not alike…” Shaking his head, his tone turns a little deeper at the end, eyes turning a darker purple, but by an blink of an eye it is gone, leaving you to wonder if you didn’t just imagine it.
Small silence fills the space between you two, fingers digging inside your palm in a small thought. You are thankful that he isn’t talking till you are, but you can’t lie that his move to grasp you helped you take down the walls around you. His eyes stare to the spot next to you, hands clasped together in waiting, but he himself looks in deep thought. You realize that is mostly to dull out the pain in his shoulder — your eyes trail over your amateur job and just a sliver of fluorescent purple shines through. “So-“ You start off, your own voice surprising you, but you do continue, gaze meeting his yet again. “You really don’t want to-“ You trail off, there is no need for you to finish.
“I won’t hurt you.” He says slowly, promise vibrant in his words, making relief wash over you. “To be honest, I think you kind of have a upper hand here-“ He is still trying to lighten up the mood — you wonder if it is just him or his nature, but it does help. It makes this whole situation a little less crazy, if that’s even possible. Silence doesn’t stretch out too long, because the sound of little footsteps nears you two, before there is the familiar sound of a purr.
You nearly forgot about your cat, but you are even more surprised that he doesn’t seem to be phased by your sudden company. He didn’t even showed up, till now, like he was waiting as well. Your next breath gets stuck in you as your cat paddles across the floor to stop next to the man before you. You can only watch in shock, as he lightly grazes his fingers across the creature’s fur, small smile playing on his plump lips. “Huh, you have a cat–“ He states, watching the fluffy ball disappear around the corner, after few scratches. “Hope it’s not a Flerken.”
“A what?”
“You don’t want to know.” He shakes his head in your direction, but his gaze still carefully analyzes your cat’s movements, before there is only you two alone again.
The distant clock in the kitchen clicks too loudly almost, as you try to gather your racing thoughts. There is so much you want to ask — but there is so little that is important right now and so much your body can handle. It is a lot, everything, but you know you can’t just leave without some of your question being answered. “Where is your ship?” You ask, reminiscing the what you can now be certain was his ship, falling down the sky.
Your question seems to only make a weight fall on his shoulders, sighing tiredly, hand coming to press against his temple. “In the forest, ruined…” He explains to you softly.
Suddenly you realize something at his words, gasping so loudly it echoes. “You — you have to run, someone definitely knows you are here-“ You don’t know since when you started to care so much about his well being, but one thing you will stand for is that no one deserves to be locked away — to be experienced on. The thought makes you sick to your stomach, even if you just met him, even if you just accepted him and what he is. Your heart beat picks up, stilling in your spot, but to your surprise he only waves a hand at you in resurement.
“Your technology is too out dated to pick up on ours.” He explains, making your tense muscles loosen a little, not really picking up on the remark. “No one knows about me other than you…”
That hits you harder than it should — it still leaves you in a state of fright. What are you supposed to do? One thing you remember your aunt telling you was that you should live in the present and not worry about the future. However that is the hardest thing for you, with having so much time, with being so alone…not anymore. You look at him through your eyelashes, seeing him in the dim light taking a look at his treated wound, fingers carefully grazing over the white bandage. “Does it still hurt?” You ask, true concern in your tone and he is the one mostly surprised by it.
His hand falls back to his lap, stare leaving his arm to look at you again — you shiver every time he does that. “It is better, thank you…I am just tired-“ The same words keep circling your mind as well, however you are the only one who looks the part. You feel so exposed with his piercing eyes, but you are still not sure if the feeling that it leaves in your tummy is good or not. “What’s your name?” Your mouth just opens for a moment at his question, but the genuine curiosity in his eyes, melts the small hesitation away.
“Y/N.” You say.
“Y/N…” He repeats and you swear you hear a foreign sound rumbling at the back of his throat. He whispers your name so it stays, before he gives you his with his hand outstretched to you. “I am Han.” You repeat his name as well, but silently in your own mind. You are too flabbergasted by his hand, that is outstretched into your direction. Seeing you not take it, makes his small excitement of getting to know your name shatter. “Oh — you don’t shake hands?” He wonders out loud, hand falling back to his side.
You shake your head quickly, trying to not upset him. “We do, I just-“ You shrug, trailing off, not really knowing what to say, but he beats you to it.
“You dont want to touch an alien.”
You hear the hurt in his voice, but can you really say no to his statement? You mostly don’t want to touch someone you just met under all these circumstances — it didn’t matter if he was an alien or not. “I already did — basically.” You say, not really finding the need to lie and make him feel better, but seemingly it does make the tension in shoulders loosen a little.
“Right…” Han trails off, turning his head away from you, lips moving in silent words which you quite can’t make out. When he turns back to you, you are startled by the look of sadness. “I know you don’t want me here…so I will be going-“ You are speechless for a second, watching him sit up to his knees. Just hour ago he begged you to help him and you did, but you just didn’t expect him to leave so soon. Where would he even go? Does he even know earth? Does he know how to mask himself as a human being? That shouldn’t be your concern really, but he literally fell into your life so suddenly — he completely changed it so quickly, that you don’t want him to go.
Han, just barely makes it up to his feet, hands grasping tightly onto the wall next to him, while you lean into his line of sight. “Wait, you are still hurt and I can help you if you need it.” It seems like he was only testing you or just making sure that your silent kindness wasn’t just a form of panic, because almost instantly his body slumps against the wall in relief.
“Thank you.” Turning back to you, as you slowly stand up to your own feet, Han’s eyes shine so brightly in the soft light of the moon — so thankful and so greatful. “You are kind for a human and a woman-“
“What is that supposed to mean?” You ask, taken back by such words, but again they are not answered.
“I will tell you later…” He says. Later — he really is making himself comfortable fast. You are surprised he isn’t opposed to this, but what else can he do? His ship is ruined from what he told you, hurt and too tired to keep going further where there would be only danger ahead of him. He really trust you enough to not tell anyone…and you won’t, but still — isn’t this maybe too immature for him to do? You stand before him, not as close as before, but close enough for you to feel the heat of his body. It’s something you are not used to. In your small trail of thoughts, you don’t realize your glaring eyes, but you do notice how his adam’s apple moves a little “Do you have some water?”
You can almost hear how dry his throat is and without a word you slip by him to make your way to the kitchen and then you smell it again — the sweetness, that wraps around your senses. It makes you see blurry, not necessarily in a physical way, it was like you were blinded for a split moment, but it disappears just as quickly. You don’t have to turn around to see him behind you, his loud, familiar footsteps give him away right away. It is slightly unsettling, not used to feeling another presence next to you, maybe you needed this — maybe you are the one being saved.
You make your way to the cupboard, grabbing a tall glass, before you turn to your sink to fill it with tap water. It is quiet for that part, seeing from the corner of your eye how he goes to sit down on one of the stools next to the kitchen island. He is in full light now and even if you already did look at him, you can’t seem to get enough. There is just something about him…Turning around, you don’t even fully place the glass on the table before he takes it from your hands, fingers grazing over yours and you blame it on his alien-self as you feel a shiver going up your spine at his touch. He seems to be thirsty — teeth clinking a little on the glass, head rolling backwards to drown the water as soon as his body allows him to.
His throat bobs, streak of water rolling down his skin, your eyes falling the movement unconsciously. The water is gone fast, deep satisfied sigh leaving him, eyes shining in thankfulness. Placing your elbows on the table before you, you don’t particularly meet his gaze, too much in thought — too much to say. “How can you even understand me?” You voice out your thoughts, small frown on your features. He speaks you so fluently, like any other person on this planet. Was he a liar? Because you really can point out any more differences between you…maybe you are not just in the right situation quite yet.
For your answer he firstly tilts his head to you, hand brushing away the long strands hair from his skin, revealing a small circle device behind his ear. “This–“ He taps it lightly, making it flicker. “But your language is actually well known among us — that’s why I am able to speak with you without any problem-“
“Really?” Almost childish curiosity shines in your face, but you are too tired to fight it. “Have you are met someone like me before?”
Han’s lips lift slightly at the corners, shaking his head softly. “No, I have never met someone like you before actually…” He trails off, eyes looking around briefly. “So…you will let me stay then?” He is nervous — scared maybe.
“Depends, will I really not be in trouble?” You ask, truthfully. “I don’t want to be locked away and be experienced on-“ You mean it mostly in a different way then he thinks, not realizing fast enough the double meaning in your words, but surprisingly he doesn’t take it to his heart, only finding amusement.
“You definitely don’t have to worry about that.” He reassures you, fingers taping on the empty glass as an unknown emotion flashes in his eyes. “No one knows…I will be here, till I get better, I promise.”
“Will you erase my memory after?”
“Huh?”
“Nothing…” You mumble and you nearly laugh at yourself — you just can’t help it. This is still so unbelievable, your body tired enough to maybe still be able to convince you that this is only a dream. Resting your head in the palm of your hand, you watch his fingers trailing over the rim of the empty glass for a moment. No one other than you touched it in so long…nothing other than a human. You wonder — you know that if he would be any more different from you, it would have all ended up differently. Maybe he is still hiding, being kind enough to not scare you more than you already are. That wouldn’t be kind to your hostesses…
“Thank you…do you have some spare clothes, I could borrow?” You don’t know how much the material on his body is uncomfortable, but you nod in understanding nonetheless.
“Of course, I will take a look later-“ A small cough leaves you.
“Thank you.” Again.
“Right…” You roll your weight on your feet a little, before your eyes trail over to the clock — it is almost sunrise. You feel exhausted, but you don’t think you can fall asleep quite yet. Han looks the same as you, but there are no dark circles like on your face that could indicate his exhaustion. It is just a feeling. You don’t even know for how long he has been lost in the woods, how many times he was close to giving up before he saw your house. He walked in because there was no place for him to go and now he chooses to trust you. He must be so far away from his home…Your back straightens up, head turning to look out the window behind you. “Are you hungry?” It is still so late — or early, but your question is thankfully answered with a sigh.
“A little.”
You don’t ask anymore, turning around to make your way to the fridge and find something that could satisfy his foreign tastebuds. The air in the fridge is no different from the one in the room and not even goosebumps rise one your skin as you grab the small bowl of eggs that needed to be eaten. There surely can’t go nothing wrong with that…You don’t want to second guess your pick, knowing he also knows so little about what food he can eat. If he doesn’t like it, you won’t take it to your heart, not when you are moving on the last bits of energy left in you.
Placing the bowl next to the stove, you bend down to the sliding drawer to pick up a pan. Your moves aren’t too frantic, but in the awful silence, the clinking sounds of the pans smashing against each other makes you cringe. “Sorry, I don’t usually have guests-“ You don’t even know exactly for what you are apologizing for, pouring small bit of oil in your chosen pan, before you turn the stove on.
“Definitely not someone like me.”
“Definitely…” You say, but your voice lacks the playfulness his has. You just grasp how silly this all is — you are literally cooking scrambled eggs for an alien right now. The reality is still bizarre to you, as well as your communication skills it seems…”Do you live far — I mean-“
Your eyes become wide in embarrassment, turning your gaze from your cooking to him — he is watching you so closely, hands clasped on the table, small innocent smile on his lips. “I know what you mean and yes.” He says, not making fun of you to your delight.
You try to flash him a small smile as well, you really do, but you are still in a state where you think it is not appropriate to do so. Placing the last empty shell into the bowl, the sound of the sizzling eggs fills the kitchen. Your spatchula hovers over the yolks, vibrant and yellow like the sun and the sight makes you look up to the window before you. The stars seem so different now — at least in their meaning. Your head turns back to him, swirling blindly the eggs in the pan as you are met with the same unmoving stare yet again. “How is it?” You ask firstly. “Being up there in space…millions of possibilities.”
The way you said it is so dreamy, full of wonder and like you, his eyes move towards the window, however there is no warmth like you expected there to be. “It gets boring after a while.” Han confesses and can’t help, but frown.
“I can’t imagine that.” How can it be? You are stuck in one place only, while he can go anywhere he wants — it is almost poetic.
“When you don’t know where your true home is, it is hard to feel any sort of happiness…” You still at his broken tone and you feel worst that he looks like he has already excepted this truth. He is more lost then he lets out — you understand him so greatly. “My planet is just a dump…” He mumbles, gaze falling to his hands.
“How so?” You ask, turning off the stove.
“We don’t have…” His eyes meet yours again, seeing a small blush covering his cheeks, voice becoming small — his cheeks are red. “-many women left on our planet.” He explains, like that is the cause of his planet’s doom — you do understand why, you really do, but it makes your chest fill with this sudden warmth that only intensifies at his eyes.
“Oh…” You don’t really know what to say to that information, choosing to occupy yourself with finding the most perfect plate for his not so perfect scrambled eggs. However it seems like you aren’t the only one lost for words.
“You are the first human I have ever seen.”
He only made this situation more awkward, but you swallow it down — this is different and even if his words are mostly making himself embarrassing, you have to remind yourself that he is from another planet. Though you feel just a bit exposed under his purple eyes, while your tongue comes loose from between your teeth. “And?” You ask, turning around, with a steaming hot plate in your hand, placing it before him, but even hunger doesn’t make his gaze move away from yours. “What do you think?”
You catch his eyes trailing over your figure at your question — wide in wonder, but whatever he wanted to say first disappears as he stops to stare at your face. “From what I gather you are kind — vicious a little and I understand why.” His smile isn’t visible, but it is heard in his voice, that becomes quieter at his next words. “Though most information about your kind says that if we ever encountered you, you would kills us with no hesitation or worse-“
“I know-“ You sigh softly, apologetic look on your face. “I am sorry about that — I won’t tell anyone that you are here, don’t worry…besides you could almost blend in, almost…” You whisper the last word, stepping closer to him, pushing his plate more towards him, but even that action doesn’t move his stare away from yours. “Is it only your blood that is different or- “ It is maybe an intimate matter, but you think you have the right to ask this.
“There is a lot about me that is different…it is just not the appropriate situation to show you.” He explains to you, leaving you to wonder in what exact situation you will have to get yourself into to find out.
“Alright…” You push his plate even closer to him, clasping your hands together, only to realize something, just as he leans down to take a whiff of the food. “Oh, wait. I forgot the-“ Your words die on your tongue, not even having proper time to turn to the drawer filled with utensils, because he digs his fingers in the food just like that…
Hum leaves him, lips closing around his fingers, savoring the taste of the food you made for him. You are standing before him in shock, gaze unmoving from the way he is stuffing his face. “It is good — what is it?” He asks, mouth full as his hand before he shoves another portion inside his mouth.
“Just eggs?” You trail off, because you are certain you have never seen someone so eager for some scrambled eggs before — you would already feel sick to your stomach by now.
Your answer makes him pause, eyes falling down to the plate. “What kind of eggs?”
“Chicken?” What else you are supposed to say? Though he only seemed to stay in thought for a bit longer, before he starts to eat again, but now atleast without scaring you with a choking hazard. You know you are watching him maybe too closely, not even phased by his eyes traveling towards you as well. His plate is nearly empty, looking over your bloodied, puffy eyes that are barely open — you don’t really feel how tired you truly are, because for the first time you don’t want to fall asleep and wish. Wish from something to change. “You can go back to sleep if you want.” Han says, wiping his mouth onto his sleeve.
You blink at him, flinching a little at his voice that seem to be louder than it actually is. “No, it’s fine-“ You wave your hand at him, but doing so, your mouth falls open in a yawn, that you are not quick enough to cover.
“No, please. I am tired myself.”
You nod, because that is maybe the only convincing you need right now — nothing will change, while you will go back to sleep. The plate would be still here, the medkit and the blood stains. You truly are too tired to make something about all of those things, you think you did enough for now. “Okay.” You nod, hands swinging by your side in thought. Maybe you shouldn’t be this trustworthy…he is still a man. The thought of leaving him to sleep on the couch is big, but he is hurt — truly tired just like you and you yourself wouldn’t like to spend your time sleeping on the hard cushion. However you don’t even think you would able to fall asleep anyhow, so you just decide to gesture to the direction of the door. “Follow me, I have a spare bedroom you can take…”
Han only nods, sliding off the stool to follow in your steps that lead to the stairs. You can’t help, but eye the baseball bat momentarily — still sitting by the wall, ready to be used if necessary. It won’t be, something reassures you that it won’t. You pass by it, the pool of purple blood still fresh and full of light, but even that doesn’t make you flinch anymore. You are too focused on the soft breath fanning over your neck. He is close to you, mimicking your each move, like he didn’t want to do anything to possibly startled you, but that somehow does it. It is so unhuman the way he is so good at acting like you.
You can feel your muscles straining in your thighs and the small burn in your lungs, when you take the last step to the second floor. Your whole body screams for you to lay down, though yours mind doesn’t let you. Your stop seem to be a little sudden to him, because he almost bumps into your back, but you are quick enough to move away, just a small fan of his breathe blowing away the loose strands of hair away from your eyes. “Here-“ You say, gesturing to the door next to you. Your hand wraps around the handle, opening the old, wooden door, stepping a little to the side to let him take a look inside. “In the big closet there should be some clothes for you.” He doesn’t make a move to acknowledge your words, but you now he is listening. Your eyes travel behind his shoulder to your own bedroom and you don’t even have time to think about your next question. “Is it okay with you, if I-“
“You want to lock me up…” Han says for you, glancing at your face of surprise and regret.
“Sorry….”
“I know this is a lot.” He says, eyes moving between yours, head tilting to your level. “But I promise you, I won’t hurt you — I have no reason to do so.”
That makes you quiet, eyes going to the floor under your feet. He is so understanding — more than most of the humans you have met. He is still standing before the open room, waiting for you. You are abashed, not knowing what to do and really, could there be any situation that could prepare you for this? A creature for another planet, so alike yet not, deciding that even with your differences and behind the possible consequences, it was worth it. Looking up at him, for the first time you send him a smile, feet shuffling under you. “I will be down the hall if you need me.” Is the only thing you say, before you slip past him to make your way to your own bedroom.
“Thank you, Y/N.” Han says, staring at your distancing figure. His warm voice travels through the cold air, tickling your ears. Your face softens at his tone, stopping by your door to take a one last look at him before your body collapses in exhaustion.
“Of course.” You whisper back, eyes locking onto his, sweet smell wrapping around you, almost calling for you to stay a little longer to maybe see more, but your exhaustion at the end wins, walking inside your bedroom. The door behind you shuts by itself, sheets still cold as you remember, but you can taste the difference in the air. You reminisce, not even dream, just listening closely till you hear the sound of his doors closing as well. He is real — everything. He will be there when you wake up, it maybe won’t be so empty after all…By choosing to not lock his door, you also unknowingly chose to not lock yourself away from the changes that will come crumbling your way. Your prayer was heard from the skies after all…
────
To your own surprise you did fall back asleep — it was short, but needed, letting all of your emotions melt away for atleast a moment. However in your dreams, your thoughts don’t leave you, memory of his face haunting you and your mind seem to not want to let him go even when you woke up. You could feel his presence everywhere, even if he was few walls away — it was mostly, because you knew, he was out there waiting for you, an alien. You accepted the truth better than you expected, because there was no denying no more. Everything really happened, though you decided to move around your house like you always did, just barely glancing to the closed door as you went downstairs. His blood was still there — even your bat, open medkit and used cloth, scissors lying on the floor and even the empty plate on the kitchen counter. You cleaned it all without a second thought, mind flashing with memories and everything, but when you were all finished up, it was like nothing even happened.
The first day spend with him was quiet, going out of his room in the middle of the afternoon, movements so silent you let to let out a frightened gasp, tripping little over your front doorstep. You were too caught up at trying to catch up on your chores, that you actually did nearly forgot about him. He was standing there in your open doorway, hair fanning over his features. The shirt after your late uncle hanged over his body loosely, black t-shirt tugged in some dark work trousers — he almost looked normal, if it weren’t for his eyes, brighten by the sunlight. They are mostly dark brown, but the purple was so prominent against the sun that you can feel the vibrant color burning your skin. He looked better, rested at least and a small awkward silence passed by before he surprised you by asking you if you needed help. You can’t remember the last time someone asked you that. He was just being nice, but still it — it send an unknown emotion to your chest at his gesture. So you let him…Hands fumbling with the rake you gave him, seemingly eager to please, but not confident anyhow, mimicking your movement the best he could. It made you smile in amusement, something you rarely did in these days, watching him work, but your eyes still stopped at his shoulder.
It didn’t seem like he was in pain anymore, which send you a wave of relief, but after few tries of him trying to help you, you took the rake away from his hands. You remember the small sound of disappointment, though he stayed quiet then, just watching you. He did that a lot — maybe trying to learn from you to mask himself better as a human, you are not so sure. You have a feeling it is just that…looking. After a while you realize that his presence really did help you. You weren’t in your own world that much, finally fully present. You were seeing him get used to your presence as well, lips parting more and more as hours turned by, till they slowly turned into days. For the first time in a while you were actually excited for another day, because every time it would bring something new.
He didn’t talk about himself a lot, like he didn’t actually found himself interesting, but you held on any new information he let slip by. From mentioning his journey across the galaxy, to telling you about animals which reminded him of yours. Han didn’t leave your side once, he was like your second shadow. You came to love the differences you once feared, drowning more and more each time you would look into his eyes. After his failed first mission of trying to help you, he surprised you by no giving up — even when he was clumsy with just walking behind you, even if he feared the small chickens running around — you lightly laughed at his face of horror, when you told him that the eggs he ate come from them.
He was almost like a new born baby in a sense and you wonder what did it take for you to take care of a lost alien. Though you do know exactly what…Han spend most of his days with you, but you did always caught him staring in amazement at all of the animals in your farm. It is mesmerizing that even after his journeys, there still was enough room for something new. At the end of the first few days, you just parted your ways after dinner, not staying longer than necessary — scared that you would ruin this sense of peace, but you didn’t. The more you spend time with him, the more you found even yourself trailing after him, hungry for his presence.
You liked the way he smiled every time you would show him something new, you liked how he didn’t shy away from your touch when you would accidentally brush your hand over his — you realized quick that you are starting to like him. You immediately blamed it on yourself, telling yourself that you are just touch starved, which you kind of are, but also he is one to blame as well. You don’t know if oblivious comes natural to him or if it just something with his species, because he really refuses to let go of you. It was firstly nerve racking, with being look at so closely, but now it only made you think these wild things.
Every time you would stop abruptly, his chest would press against your back, hand grasping your upper arms and even if his mouth opened in small apology, it fell to deaf ears, because these things start to happen more and more. When you would go cook something, he would always lean over your body to fill a glass of water — he once said his thirst and hunger are quite different from yours. It drives you crazy, because it happened so much, yet he always had an excuse. Maybe he was just clumsy, maybe not, but his accidental touch made goosebumps rise all over your body. But because he was always so close to you, you didn’t really pick up on one that one thing firstly and it was his scent.
Han seems to smell like the most sweetest flower in a garden. The fragrance that followed him everywhere seemed to burn your nostrils already, but every time when you were finally alone you could smell the small breeze. It stained you from the inside, it didn’t even go away when you would go to wash your hands — they still remember him. You were so used to it, that you didn’t think much of it, because you thought of it as something that comes as another difference between you two. But you did notice another smell coming from him and it was right after a long day of work.
Both of you were covered in sweat, breathing heavily and you didn’t waste any time before hopping under the shower head, leaving him in the kitchen. However when returned he was still there, waiting for you to make dinner — that is maybe the one thing he refused to do, mostly because he was scared, he would poison both of you. You walked past him without a second thought, but then you smelled the bitterness coming from him, making your face scrunch up a little. “Did you take a shower?” You asked, not harshly, but then you notice the obvious embarrassment on his face.
By that you learned that he not even once took a shower since he had been here. You don’t feel disgust towards him, because it was maybe your fault, but also the only time when he finally tear himself away from you was when he went to sleep. So after short dinner, you lead him to the bathroom right next to your bedroom, shoving him inside without a second thought, making your way to your room to lay down, feeling your eyes becoming droopy. Though after a while you didn’t hear anything — not once the water had been turned on. You nearly drift way, not necessarily waiting for him to be done, but you realize you didn’t even cover yourself in your duvet. Maybe you were finding excuses to see him again, but some time passed since he got in the bathroom, making concern wash over you. Oh, how this move changes your entire view of him…
Getting off your bed, you made your way to the bathroom, ears still pricking and trying to hear atleast something. However when you stopped before the door you didn’t decide to knock — no, like a creep you come to press your ear to the door, but as soon as you put your weight into the wood, it swinged open. You froze in your spot, shock filling you, matching his. Your mouth opened, but no sound came out, wide eyes sliding over his exposed chest. He is mascular, way more than you expected — you don’t think you have ever seen a body like that before. His skin had zero blemishes and you can’t help but stare at his clenching stomach, slim waist rolling to your direction.
Han doesn’t move firstly, standing in the shower, hand on the wall — atleast he had his pants on, you would have already melted down the drain yourself otherwise. In your state of shock, you caught just briefly something purple behind his back, but as gasp leaves you, sight going to same the spot it was gone by a blink of an eye. “I am sorry-“ You breathe out, almost uncharacteristic squeak leaving you, as you just now realized you were still standing at your spot, though the embarrassment creeped up to you fast, making you turn your back to him.
“No, wait!” Your breath shattered at his words, heat filling you as you turned back to look at him, but to your own surprise your eyes stay on his. “Where is the button?” He asks you.
“Button?” You frown, looking around him, accidentally letting your eyes drag down again.
He let out a small breath, before gesturing to the shower next to him. “How do you turn this on?” He said slowly and your lips part a little — maybe that is also why he didn’t ask you where the bathroom is, because he knew…he just was too embarrassed to ask you how to turn the shower on.
“Oh-“ Left your lips, watching his cheeks darken a little. You don’t know what possessed you really, you could have told him how from your spot — but you chose to walk up to him to show him instead. Maybe it is better for him to understand…yes, that is why you have done it. Stopping just before the tub, his body towered over you more than usual, eyes falling on the tiles rather than his exposed body. He is so warm — you can still remember the heat radiating from him, arm grazing over his as you wrapped your hand around the faucet. “Here.” Your voice is less than a whisper as you found the strength to meet his eyes. “You move this left for cold water and right to warm-“ Was he even listening to you? You don’t know if you even heard yourself, words becoming a mush. “This is propably good…”
Without thinking you pulled on the tap, water immediately coming from the shower head. The water hit his head firstly, leaning forward on an instinct, hair coming to stick over his neck. You couldn’t breathe — you watched his eyes fall shut, letting you take a look at how the water glided down his chest, damping the waistband of his pants, his hat hanged low over his lean hips. It is been so long, too long and could you really blame yourself for looking and enjoying the show? The same water that tasted his skin, fell on you as well, hand on the faucet accidentally sliding to the right.
“Shit-“
You gasped, snapping yourself out of your thoughts, shutting the water off immediately. Han touched the top of his head, small hiss leaving him and your heart stopped at the steam filling the space around you. “You okay?” Your breathing was heavy and you felt your fingers tingling from the sight infront of you. He breathed out a long sigh, head rolled back, letting you slide your eager eyes over his exposed neck.
“Yeah.” He responded, huffing through his nose, before his head tilted back down to you. “That was just too hot for me…”
“Sorry.” You mumbled, teeth wrapping around your lower lip, but that move wasn’t left unnoticed. His eyes flashed purple, staring at your softly bitten lips. He was the one the most exposed, but at that moment you felt like he could see right through you — see how fast your blood was rushing through your veins. You sharply gasped, tearing your eyes off him completely. What are you doing? You had to shake your head at yourself, turning to lightly tap at the faucet. “Here…“ You didn’t even know what to say exactly in this situation. You can still remember how, not just the water, made the air around you hot.
You saved yourself from further embarrassment by running away — you literally bolted out of the bathroom, door slamming shut behind you. You overstepped, but you didn’t mean to...though maybe still trying to listen through the door wasn’t a good idea to do also. But, why wasn’t he angry at you? Why was he looking at you like that? His eyes made you stop every time, so piercing you think he already knows you inside out. Those other times when he would accidentally touch you were different…then why did this made you realize how intimate his every touch was? You are starting to lose your mind, bottling up so much emotions, you know that they are slowly bubbling to the surface.
It was quiet the whole night after that, mind swirling, but you always seem to get back to the memory of his exposed body. You are a mess and that moment seemed to mostly take an effect on you, because Han acted like nothing happened — he also probably could taste the difference in your energy, deciding to stay quiet. Though you can still see it on his face, you remember the look of surprise, melting into something softer and you feel your chest tightening at the memory even right now.
The soft wind of the night flows around you, tangling your hair, strands kissing your cheekbones. The cold which you were so used doesn’t leave you in a sense of dread like it always did — it doesn’t highlight the fact you are lonely, because now there is warmth next to you. It leans ever so slightly towards you, breath creating mist before you, mixing with your own. You are closer than ever, but now there is no surprise, just the present. Your head is tilted up to the sky, eyes traveling through the its lights. You both are sitting on the small old swing on your porch, your red blanket draped lightly over his own purple one — how funny, till no you didn’t notice the meanings behind a simple color.
Tonight you didn’t separate your paths — he asked you to stay and watch. Han wanted to bath in your presence a bit longer, at a time you only once spend together…and that was when you first met. It seems so long ago right now, just the past. A small shuffle of fabric comes from your side, unconsciously gripping the glass in you hand tighter when you feel his breath on your cheek, hand coming into your field of view. “There.” He says, pointing up in the sky. “I am from that star.” Your eyes flicker to the tip of his finger, but as you glance back at him you become lost in the sea of stars reflecting in his eyes.
He is so close to you — breaths mixing together. “Which one?” You ask, wanting to turn back around and look, but you are struck. Your lips part as you feel his hand sliding to grasp yours, turning instantly to gaze at his hand on top of yours. You can feel him leaning closer, just barely and you know that if you would ask him about it, he would just blame it on wanting to show you his home more clearly. His hand is soft, fingers long, wrapping lightly over wrist as your gaze meets the tip of his finger to the many stars next to each other — there is a sudden feeling inside you. It is familiar, so much — stare stopping at the one light in the sky that shines the brightest.
It looks so close, but you know that it isn’t. You can’t even imagine what it is like to travel through space, so many different worlds were hidden right before your eyes the whole time. His hand releases yours, falling back to his lap, but you don’t feel your chest tightening like it usually did. It is because he stays close to you, you do not feel the awful cold feeling. “Do you miss it?” You ask. He didn’t tell you much, but from what he had, you didn’t see a reason why he would want to stay here.
Earth is different from any other place he went to before and you just can’t help but feel conflicted, because who would want to stay here? Maybe if he decided to disappear — to see the true beauty of your planet, not just your small home, you think he would like it. However you were so wrong…Han turns to you, watching the light of his home reflect in your eyes. “No, like I said it gets boring.” You hear his words, but you can’t quite understand them. How could anyone feel bored running through the galaxy? He isn’t stuck here, like you are, but as you glance at him, you remember his words — it is hard to feel happiness when you don’t know where your true home is. “I have never actually felt this…good.” Han continues, small smile making its way to his flushed lips. “You are really good.”
The compliment warms you from inside, eyes drifting away from his to stop yourself from drowning in them. You feel honered almost, because you are proving something wrong — something he always thought wouldn’t change. Maybe that is why he couldn’t leave you alone, he wanted to maybe prove himself that is all nothing, just another stop. But then in the maze of your sweet thoughts, realization falls over you…He didn’t leave you once and when he did it was always to go to sleep. You never once saw him leave, making you wonder if he has been to his ship even once since he walked into your life. You completely forgot his small promise, as he never mention his ship after that, not even once. However, unknowingly to you Han does notice your small pause and before you can even let out a single syllable, he comes to take your attention away again.
“What is that?” He asks you, question so sudden that confusion blinds you, eyes falling to the full glass in your hands, which he pointed to.
“Wine.” You answer, red liquid splashing slightly with the movement of your hands. “I didn’t know if you wanted some-“
He shakes his head softly, cutting you off. “That’s okay.” You can see the small frown on his face as he keeps looking at the glass in your hands. It is not in disgust, but more in curiosity.
“You want to try?” It seems like he waited for you to offer, because soon he turns his body to face you properly.
“Sure.” His hand brushed over yours too many times that you lost your count, but now as he takes the glass from your hands, his fingers trace over the rim — just where your lips once were. Maybe you are looking to close to it, or maybe you are just aware. You watch him lean over the glass, swirling around the liquid and the sweet scent, that to your surprise makes him frown. Glancing back at you, he eyes you carefully, mouth opening firstly, not ready to speak just yet. “Is this an aphrodisiac?”
A startled noise gets stuck at the back of your throat, small confusion and shock filling you. “W-what?” You are speechless, staring at him with big eyes, while his form into slits.
“It smells like it-“ He tries to explain to you, but you quickly shut his lips with the wave of your hand, feeling your face heating up, just from the thought of using such things.
“No! It is just alcohol.” You say, sound very close to a choked laugh leaving you. “It makes you feel more at ease…” You say without a thought, because that is the truth, but you surely didn’t expect him to point out the obvious.
“Do I make you that nervous to make you drink this?”
He is teasing — there is smile at his face that sends your heart racing. You actually are not so sure what made you pour yourself a glass of wine, but maybe it really was because of him. You wanted to drink it alone, forgot about everything for a moment and enjoy the low hum of the subtle drug, but then he surprised you by staying. You didn’t even take a proper sip, because you were with him, the biggest addiction of all. His scent, skin and voice — everything pulled you into him like a siren, making you unable to do anything else but melt into his presence. He had this control over you, this invisible force and you really can’t fight yourself and lie. “A little.” You confess, but you have a feeling that he already knows it wasn’t just a little, but you were also just trying to safe any last bit of dignity left in you.
Like a switch in his brain, his eyes fall down to the drink in his hands, before placing the glass to his lips. You can see the first taste effecting him, eyebrows furrowing lightly, but then you almost choke yourself when he suddenly starts to gulp down the wine in your glass. The memory of the same position flashes before your eyes, but now there is just small streak of alcohol rolling down his chin. You are left to only watch your drink disappear — easily and without any resistance. You wonder if he just has different taste buds or if he is just swallowing it down to not let the small burn get to him, but when his adam’s apple bobs for the last time, there is a satisfied smile on his lips.
His tongue flicker over the plushness, thumb wiping off the excess, but he doesn’t let it go to waste — his thumb comes to his mouth, licking swiftly at the small drop on his skin, like he couldn’t get enough. He is so messy, you did notice that all the time when he ate and after few tries of making him use utensils you just gave up. ‘It is tastier when you eat with your fingers’ — that is what he told you. You blame the smell of the wine getting to your senses, because you feel drunk just by looking at him smiling at you. “I like it.” Han says, putting down the now empty glass next to his feet.
His words aren’t even slurred, he literally looks like he just drank water. “You dont feel anything?” You ask. However your small question receives a small tremble in his movement, eyes blinking back to yours.
“Should I?”
“I don’t know…” You say genuinely. He really is different — at least in the most subtle ways so far…You tear your gaze away from his, turning back to glance at the stars. They are the same, no change, but the meaning behind one specific one is. You wonder how many times you have stared it unknowingly, while you were looking for said change. Change — you wished for it and now it is by your side every day, though how could you ever expected this. You are still not sure if you feel competent by everything that has turned in your life, because somehow you feel like you don’t deserve it. His trust and kindness. You wonder why he chose you — you get this feeling that maybe, just slightly, this wasn’t one sided. His own story touched you greatly and it felt like he was the one actually waiting for you the whole time.
“You know–“ You start off, still looking at the lights in the sky, but you can already feel his eyes trailing over the side of your face. You always have his attention. “The last time I sat here, was when I was watching the shower.” You had to say it, you needed to, because it was eating you alive. Was it really just coincidence? It cannot be, because why would he showed up now? Why didn’t he stay back at his ship? Was it really that damaged? Because if it was, there would be atleast smoke in the distance or a fire. He told you he crashed into the forest, but the woods spread out. Your own question makes you look back at him and your breathing stop at the unreadable expression on his face.
He is not looking at you, staring down at his hands in thought, but as he feels the weight of your eyes on him, he glances to you — the emotion on his face disappears, smile stretching across his lips. “Funny — you must have manifested me.” Han says, small laugh leaving him,
“Yeah…” You don’t know if you want to question the sudden shift in him, as it was gone before you could even register it fully. Even if some time has passed since he got here, you never actually got him to say much about himself. He always had a way with words, making you forgot what you wanted to say in the first place. You know him — good enough you think, because you can sometimes tell when he is holding back. His sentences are always careful and light hearted, but there is always this look in his glowing eyes that you quite can’t place.
He always looks at you like that — like he is trying to see something, fingers twitching like he wanted to do something that he yet quite couldn’t. Your sight drifts, but your gaze stays at him, as you let your mind wander. Then there is a shuffle from him, so careful and little, but to you it wasn’t. You feel his shoulder sliding over yours, heat of skin so prominent even under the layers of material. He is leaning towards you, but still he is far enough for you to let you breathe — breathe in the air that comes out of his lungs. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears, because this is the closest he has ever been and you are letting him. Your vision clears, blinking at him, body stilling. “You know…I maybe do feel something-“ He says quietly, eyes trailing over your features. “But I think it might not be because of the drink.”
You breathe out shakily at his tone that is just as sweet as his scent wrapping around you. “Han…” You whisper, but the sound of his name leaving your lips makes him lean even closer. You are stuck, eyes wide in not fear of his breath fanning over your lips, but because you are not moving away from him. He didn’t even have to say it — you already now what his words mean and you hate that your tummy fills with all too familiar tingles.
“What?” He is staring at you the same way he always is and now you know what it is — desire. You reminisce every time he would graze his skin over yours and now you think it really might wasn’t on an accident. His head tilts to level with yours, hand under his blanket eager to touch yours. You think, he can’t see the same emotion shinning in yours eyes, but it is so obvious. Your own scent told him everything he needed to know. His eyes flutter, smile stretching. “Come on, aren’t you a little curious?” He asks and you have to bite down on your tongue at his words that come from the deepest parts of his chest.
You are blinded, mind empty as you can almost taste the wine on his tongue. You can’t fight it no more — anything rational flying out, grinding away into the darkness around you. “Too much to be honest.” You whisper, voice low. There is no sound around you two, even the nature becoming quiet in expectation.
Your lips fall apart, silent sound leaving you as you watch him take his hand from beneath to blanket to come to rest against your cheek. His movements are so careful, touch so gentle — something you came to forget after being alone for so long and is there really any will in you left to fight against it? He looks at you, like you are the most precious thing he has ever come across off, letting him warm up your cold bitten cheek in trembling delight. “You might be the only human I have ever met, but I can also tell you that you are the most interesting thing up in the whole galaxy…” His words wrap swirl around you — your body and heart and you can’t hear anything else but their echo, as his fingers hook under your jaw.
“You are just saying that…”
“No.” Han says it in a way like your words had wounded him, shaking his head at you. “I mean it, so much.” His expression becomes softer, voice honey to your ears. You are in denial, because you can’t accept the fact that this man who saw so many words — is completely astonished by you. Your lungs burn from you holding your breath, watching the purple in his eyes gallop his irises, gaze falling to your quivering lips and you can’t help but leaning towards his touch. “I wonder if you taste as sweet as you smell-“ He sighs out, his small sound hitting your open mouth, making you gasp.
“Han-“
Your tongue is tied, mind a mess, shaking lightly as his thumb touches your bottom lip. He is so gentle, yet the feeling of his skin pressing against yours sets your soul on fire. You let him lean closer — you are too much of a mess to even jump away, because somehow it feels like everything is falling to its place finally. He is desperate, neediness transferring to you and as his eyes flutter close you follow the movement, not even a second wasted before he presses his lips to yours. They are softer than a cloud, sweeter than an any wine, your senses filling with only him. Your mind swirls from the small noise escaping him from the contact, your nose taking in his delicious scent — and your tongue rolling against his. He kisses you with hungriness that have been bubbling inside him for so long, hand on your cheek sliding towards the back of your neck.
You think you could have never get drunk of a simple kiss alone. You have never felt so much pleasure from sliding your lips against someone else’s like this before. Han tilts his head, mouth opening, tongue poking to lick against yours, teeth clacking together. You let out a surprise noise, because you taste the difference in him — his tongue is rougher, longer and more precise. He is kissing you like he has known you all along. You swear you can feel his chest rumbling when you press your hands over his beating heart, your slicks mixing together and he drinks it eagerly into his mouth, like it was the nectar of gods.
It is messy, fast — your mind slowly picks up on what is happening, while you are still trying to match his pace. His tongue is rougher with bumps and you wonder how you have never notice that before. His hidden differences are starting to show and it scares you…You shouldn’t be doing this. This is wrong, but why does it feels so good? Drool starts to slide down your chins, but you realize it is mostly him — he is literally foaming at his mouth for you, tugging you closer to his heaving chest, like he wanted to get under your very skin. All of this, all of these new things are making you shake in shock. You are frozen, body moving against your will, your mind screaming, but your feel small hesitation.
Your sighs turn into heavy breaths, because it is too much for you. Thoughts circle around your head, warning you of what you are actually doing maybe not be right. Maybe you should not be enjoying this — he is an alien, unknown. You don’t know him, even if your heart says otherwise and right now you can’t help but feel disgust towards yourself. What if he is just kissing you because he doesn’t know what to do with a human? No, he is smooth, his kisses are perfect, his touch is gentle than ever. However your mind, with the lack of oxygen you are getting, makes you tear yourself away from him.
Single string of your saliva stick to both of your lips, before it breaks, just like your mind. Your eyes are wide like his, with the same desire, but your shock wins over. Your hands loosen the grip you had him in, breathing heavily as you start to stammer. “I — need to think-“ You stutter, your words hitting him — seeing how he visible freezes. You feel regret, mostly because you stand up to your feet and turn to walk away, though you are not ready to except that. You are doing what you think is the right thing, but oh, how wrong you were…
His warmth leaves you the second you separate your lips from his, bitten and puffy, the sight haunting you like a reminder of what you let happened. You nearly trip with your hurried steps, leaving him behind as you swing open the door to your home. You are again the one running away — you are running away from the change you so wished for. It so much to take in, from letting him stay here, taking care of him and treating him like an equal to this. You shouldn’t have kissed him back and lean for more, even if you felt your heartbeat slowing to match his. You shouldn’t have treated him like a normal person, because he isn’t — he so isn’t…Then why? Why do you like that about him?
It is morally wrong and also because he just can’t stay here with you. He belongs to the stars, so far away from you, but his sweet words sounded like the brightest truth. You run up the stairs to your room, somewhere you think you would be able to lock yourself away from his presence, but you already now that wasn’t possible. He is everywhere and you did let him in yourself. You feel your throat burning from your rigid breaths, mouth dry, yet you can still feel the taste of his lingering. You don’t even lock your door when come in, because deep inside you know, you wouldn’t be able to escape him and the truth. Your fingers run through your hair, tangling the strands between your digits as you dig your nails into your skull.
You want him.
No, it is wrong. His blood isn’t even same as yours — his gestures, way of speaking, scent and taste. You realize that day by day as he slowly opened himself up to you, showing you how much different you are from him. He was scared as well — scared of this exact thing. You ran from him, you wounded him, but he somewhat understood. Everything in your life changed so quickly and he wished he was more careful, but how can he when it comes to you? Han never lies, he maybe has not told you everything, because he wanted to you show you instead and that he did in his kiss. His tongue…rough with bumps, so long and harsh — hungry to take in your taste, eyes shining in the brightest shade of purple under his closed eyelids.
A shaky breath leaves you, pacing back and forth on your carpet. Your room was dark, cold like it always been, but you can feel the warmth right behind your closed door waiting for you. Some time has passed, you don’t know how long, but it helped you calm down your racing heart — but your feelings stayed the same. You wished so many times…and when you finally get it, you ran away. Small sting stays behind as you release your grip on your head. What if you for once trusted your heart and not your mind? What if you finally didn’t listen and think about the future and just live…You have never left so alive before.
You sigh softly, shaking your head to clear your thoughts and just listen. The quiet — it is only around you, but your heart screams for you to let it open again. He may be from another planet, he may have seen so much more than you, but you start to believe that you are maybe the same. You both didn’t now where your true home lays, staying somewhere where it didn’t belong to you in the first place, just waiting — waiting for the thing that finally feels like peace. Why should it matter that you are different in body, when your souls both lay in the same place? Your eyes open fully, the invisible cloud that had blinded you dissolves. It was shame.
Your fast footsteps are just an echo to you, body moving on your own decision, because now you know what is right. You have decided, you know what you want — what you needed so badly. Your own unconsciousness already knew that also, because you didn’t close the door. It was clear from the moment you let him lean in and touch you. As your hand comes to wrap around the handle, you open it in such force you didn’t even know was possible, because not once in your life you were driven with such desire. The sweet scent, that always seemed to make you weak, fills your senses firstly and it is like a warm sigh kissing your skin.
Your gasp gets stuck in your chest, as Han stands right before you, hand falling from the door as you swung it open — he didn’t even want to knock, just you before, because there was no reason to. He knew, hoped still silently, that you would come back and now you are infront of him pupils expanding. No words are said, because your actions speak enough for the both of you. You don’t even know who moves first, you both in sync — grabbing the other desperately, before your lips meet again. There is no resistance nor hesitance now, moving on pure instinct, lust and desire warming up the air around you.
His hands come to dig into the plushness of your hips, yours grabbing his face that has been haunting you even in your dreams. Your tongues glide against each other, whimper slipping out as you finally don’t have to just reminisce what he feels like. It is hot — borderline filthy, there is nothing sweet about the kiss, but meaning behind it shines through. You feel shiver go down your spine as he pushes you closer to his body, fingers pinching at the exposed skin of your side. You curse against his mouth, breathing harshly, but pulling away. “I am insane for this-“ You say mostly to yourself, chest pressing against his, making you both stumble a little.
“I am-“
You shush him, shaking your head lightly at him, landing small kisses against his bottom lip. “Don’t say it — don’t stop.” Your plea is answered and it is like a switch was flipped inside him, hands traveling up to your waist as you slowly walks backwards towards your bed. Your noses smash against each other, breathing in just your own scents alone and you feel your mind becoming a mush from the sweetness as it is stronger than ever. Oh, only if you knew that he actually knows how much effect that has on you…
The back of your knees meets the bed, letting him push you down, falling onto the soft cushion. It makes you pull yourself away from him, but you can’t hide from the look in his eyes. He dreamed about this for so long — the glassiness in your vision, lips puffy from his, spit gathered around your chin like a silent mark. Han is shaking just from the thought of finally having you. You are a sight, a beautiful mess for him. He watches your chest moving wildly, your arousal making his head spin. His hand comes to cradle your face softly, leaning lightly into his touch, eyes fluttering. “I wanted you for so long — you don’t even know.” It is more of whisper and it shakes you from the inside.
“Then take me-“ Your own voice is so far away to your own ears, fingers twitching over the sheets from the shinning purple around his irises. That is the last permissions he needed, because you finally accepted the feelings deep inside you.
Your next breath is taken away from you, his lips landing in yours yet again, soft moan of pleasure leaving you as you are pushed to lay down. You both don’t separate from each other, bodies tangling together, while you shuffle up the bed to lay down on your pillows. His hands run over you — squeezing at your skin that felt like the softest silk. Your legs fall open, letting him in between them, hands grasping at his head to pull him even closer to you. You need him inside of you, you would let him eat his way to your heart — he already did, slowly and so suddenly, but it felt like the best feeling on this god forsaken planet. His teeth cage your bottom lip, sucking harshly, making blood rush to the surface.
His own action makes him whimper, the sound almost pathetic in a sense as it already makes his cock twitch. His hips don’t however press against you, even if you try to slightly graze against him. You don’t even know who has the upper hand right now, you are both just a tangle of limbs. Han separates his lips from yours, but you don’t pull him back, because he starts to lay kisses over your warm cheek. His moves are hurried, but they still hold the sweetness his scent radiates. His spit covered lips part, tongue poking at the thin skin of your neck. The sensation almost sends you over the edge, you only have the strength to take it, sighing at the small nibble as his teeth sink into you.
He sucks harshly right over the prominent vein in your neck, that jumps to the surface instantly. “Please-“ It is slurred, almost unheard from the ringing in your ears. He is pleading for what exactly you don’t know yet, slurping in your skin, drool coating you. “You are – fuck-“ Desperation is high in his words and movement, hands traveling over your stomach, till they stop under your breaths. You thought you would maybe be the one to plea — but, oh you are so wrong.
You feel a small shuffle under you, moan leaving him, silenced lightly by your own skin. He doesn’t stop — whimpers and whines rubbling inside his chest, his legs hooking under yours on purpose and then you feel it. His hips are rolling into your sheets, messily and almost with no rhythm — it is so sinful, eyes traveling down to watch his bottom half rubbing, humping into your bed, just right under your center. He is now just breathing into you, lost in the pleasure, chest pressed against yours. His imagination runs wild, trying to make the ache in his cock go away, but the way your thighs press against his sides, he can’t help but hiss as he feels himself leaking — already completely ruined.
He pleas again and again, ‘please’ so fast it is just a bunch of mumbles, head falling to rest on your collarbones, however it doesn’t stop him from licking at your sweat covered skin. “Talk to me-“ You breathe out, hand running over his head, hair a mess, but he only looks more good enough to eat.
A whimper rings in the air — already hot and stuffy. He doesn’t let up, hips slowing but only pressing harder into your bed, head rolling to the side to face you. His eyes are filled with unshead tears of pleasure, eyebrows pulled together, mouth open. The hands under your breasts dig into your ribs, but you don’t even feel the dull pain from his tight grip, too mesmerized by the sheer desperation on his face. His eyes seem to light up your dark room, so purple that you can’t even see his pupils. Though it doesn’t scare you, it only makes you needier, fingers unconsciously tugging at his strands.
His hands tug lightly at your t-shirt, feeling the heat of his touch even with the layer separating you. Han wets his lips at the thought that has been running through his head for so long. “Can I taste you, please?” His voice nearly cracks at the end and you feel your soft gasp getting stuck in your throat at his request. “I want to feel you — I will be good-“ His words make your whole body tingle, eyes widening at his yearning that seemed to be cage inside him for so long.
“Fuck, okay-“ You don’t even breathe out your answer fully, before his hands come to pinch at the softness of your breasts. Han sighs longingly — like in relief, wrapping his hands around your tits, feeling your hardened nipples dig into the palms of his hands. You don’t look any better than him, head rolling back into your pillow at his touch. You chase it, arching your back into his greedy hands and seems to take him over the edge.
Your t-shirt is harshly being pulled down, the material almost tearing from the sheer force and you don’t even have the time to react, when his mouth immediately comes to suck at the newly exposed skin. Han moans, tongue licking at the sheer lace covering you and if he wouldn’t be so eager to taste you, he could have enjoy the view a bit longer. He slides your top under your tits, thumbs flickering over your buds, till he replaces one of them with his mouth. It is hot and wet — drooling on you again, as he sucks in your lightly covered skin. He can’t tear himself away from you, needing at your plushness, tongue running over you. You are overwhelmed with pleasure, legs twitching around his hips. You can’t feel anything, but his mouth, tongue and teeth digging into you.
His fingers then hook at the top of your bra, not even fully separating himself from you, like he was scared you would vanish any second. Han hears the small tearing sound, as he uncovers you, but that quickly is forgotten, no shame in him left. You don’t see it, but you feel the cold air licking at your slick covered skin, the sensation making you whimper softly. Han doesn’t know what to do with himself right now — his touch maybe is bringing you pleasure, but mostly he was being selfish. A drop of drool lands on your left nipple, blowing air into the spot, just to see you tremble. The lace seems to blend into your skin, that shines in the moonlight.
The hunger in him grows, but he can’t help himself — pushing his head right into the softest part of your skin, teeth sharp. It isn’t enough to break the skin, but it is enough for you to let out a small yelp of pain. The sensation is too weak against the pleasure you are receiving. Han lightly tugs at your skin, nipping, before releasing it with a wet pop! The blazing red spot is made for his eyes mostly, like a reminder he was there, before his hands travel to your hips. He can feel the heat coming from your center, fingers hooking around the waistband of your pants in a silent question. Your head rolls back to face him, there are no words said, because the look you give him is enough for him to know not to stop.
Lifting your hips, you help him slide your pants off, his eyes staring at the new revealed skin. You feel just a little bit self conscious, looking down your body, feeling your underwear stick to your center like a second skin, while he tosses away your clothes. Though you don’t feel cold, his touch and the feeling bubbling in your lower tummy enough for you — shivering only when his eyes go to your covered cunt. Your thighs quiver, closing a little in small embarrassment, but your move is stopped instantly, hands coming to your knees to spread you even more.
“Shit — you are dripping-“ You sigh, feeling blood rushing to your ears, when his fingers trail over the outline of your underwear. The light color and also your wetness isn’t enough for him to not see how your clit twitches at his subtle touch. Biting his bottom lip, he watches how his thumbs nearly disappear in your skin as he pressed them into the spot where your thigh meets your center. He can already feel your wetness leaking onto him, smearing it over you, before his eyes meet yours. “Can I?” He asks again, not knowing that he is asking for something way more deeper.
“Yeah-” You let out, but you are left surprised, when he suddenly goes to tug at the blanket thrown next to you. You just watch him in small confusion — Han slides down to your bed to lay on his stomach, throwing the piece of material over you and his head.
“Is this okay?” He asks you again, one hand on the blanket so you can still see him, while the other toys teasingly at the corner of your underwear. You don’t really take it as an insult or something, because you can really focus on his breath fanning over your center. With a small nod of your head, you see a flash of relief at his face before it disappear under the blanket, material tickling the skin of your stomach. Maybe you should have suspected something, before you would be left in a state of shock…
It so something about the way you can’t see him — only feel him, that makes this much more appealing. You are now hyper focused on everything he gives to you, head falling back to rest against your pillow, gasp escaping you, when you feel him for the first time licking into you. His tongue flattens over your lace covered pussy, feeling his moan vibrating against you. Han’s nose digs into you, inhaling sharply your smell of arousal — the move makes you squeal almost, never having someone do that to you. His hands hold you open, not moving them, it is his own teeth and mouth that tugs the flimsy piece of material away from your cunt.
You feel him breathing down on you for a moment, your eyes trailing over his covered figure briefly. “Tell me if it is too much.” He says, head empty as it is now only you what he is breathing in to his lungs.
“Sure — ha!”
Your hips twitch harshly, when he suddenly slides his tongue through your slit. The texture is mind blowing to you, eyes staring wide at your ceiling, body freezing for a moment. Han’s movements are fast, long muscle trailing your your labia — he kisses, sucks, slurps. He is everywhere to you and you nearly want to escape such painful pleasure. His soft lips come to wrap around your puffy clit, tip of his tongue poking at the hood of it to make you only tremble more. Even under the blanket you can hear the nasty sounds he makes against you, mouth opening wider to suck you all in.
He is getting off to this…Your mind goes blank at the realization, fingers wrapping around your bedsheets to ground yourself. His teeth bump into your bundle of nerves, traveling lower to your hole — you don’t even know if it is your wetness that slowly drips down you or his drool. His thumbs come to either side of you, spreading you even more for him, smearing his face in your pussy. Was he even eating you out for your pleasure anymore? His hot mouth at your silent question comes to your clit again, mouth now open, but his rough tongue starts to flicker over you so sharply you nearly topple over the edge.
You feel like you are at your peak of pleasure already — it is never ending, burning. “Oh-“ Your lips fall apart, noises flying out of your mouth without any shame whatsoever, too drunk to even register how desperate you sound like. Han hums lowly into you, sucking lightly, drinking you all up. He can’t control himself anymore…His hips roll into your bed again, mimicking the smooth moves of his tongue. His whole face is covered in the mix of his spit and your juices, it is so much and he isn’t fast enough to slurp it all in, creating a puddle under you.
“You are so good-“ He mumbles, moving his head up and down with his movements, kissing your cunt sloppily. “So fucking sweet — fuck-“ A frown of pleasure stays on his face, tongue sliding over you again — from the sensitive skin under your cunt, all the way up your mound. Han breathing his heavy, but he doesn’t think anything would make him happier than suffocating between your shaking thighs around his head.
His words hit you — his drool on your tits cools, but the burn of his bite stays. His lips running over you don’t let up and you truly wonder if it is just him or the fact you were left to only feel what he is doing to you. One of his hands comes to replace his tongue with his thumb, circling of your slick covered clit. It is sharper, more precise and you can’t help, but let out a small sob. “Han…ohhh-“ You can only focus on his fingers coming to rub over your button right now, not noticing that his mouth is no longer sucking at you, but you do feel something — something way more different.
There is something long sliding over your slit — it is so slick, but it isn’t hot like his tongue. The bumps on his muscle are rough and small, familiar to you now, not so big and definitely not sucking you in. It comes to poke at your hole and you nearly jump away from such strange sensation. You are quiet for a moment, slowly realizing that it really isn’t something you ever felt before. Your head tilts down to his covered silhouette, noticing he is moving around, but his fingers are not nearly moving enough for that. “What-“ You breathe in loudly, sitting up, hand falling to the front of the blanket.
Your eyes widened even more when his hand that has been touching you comes to hold yours, but the sensation still stays. “No, don’t-“ He gasps out as well, voice filled with panic. “Just stay-“ You don’t, you can’t possibly as the thing slides just a bit inside you — it sparks fire in you, but you are too confused and shocked, pulling the blanket off from both of yours bodies.
You don’t know what you are seeing for a moment — too dark for you to see, only the his wide eyes shining at yours, but then as the sensation leaves your center you see it. Long tentacles, coming from the shadows. “Shit — this is…w-what?” You are left speechless, sitting up fully, moving away, but your eyes stay on the sight. You think you lost your mind for a second, but as the small dark spots in your vision clear, they are still there. “How?” You mumble, watching him quickly sit up as well.
They are four of them from what you can tell, the upper one’s longer, slick coating them each and every one of them, only outlining the suckers which you haven’t registered till now. Han is shocked just like you, mouth open, still shinning in your essence. He didn’t think — he should have told you this about himself maybe before touching you like that, but at the moment it felt right to him…”I am-“ He wants to apologize so badly, but this is him. This is the real him. “I should have told you — I wanted-“
“Where they there the whole time?”
You surprise him. You did move away from him, but it was mostly because you didn’t know what you were feeling. Maybe it is just this moment you are in, but you don’t feel any sense of fear — you should. Han digs his fingers into his thighs, head turning to one of the tentacles. There is now no reason for him to withdraw them, he already done it. “Yes.” He answers softly, frown falling on his face. “I just didn’t want you to figure them out like this…I wasn’t thinking-“ The shame he thought left him comes back, sending him in a state of distress.
You reminisce his words — he is different, but still you never thought like this. “Come here-“ Your own words leave you in disbelief, falling from your mouth sooner than you can even process them. Maybe you don’t know what are doing as well, but you know, you don’t want him to feel like this. Unwanted, pointed at — he is different, but he is still a person that deserves to be accepted. However it still sends your heart racing, watching the foreign things twitching at your demand.
The frown on his face softens a little, but there is still hesitation in him. Though he could never bring himself to not listen to you — he likes you maybe too much. Your kindness is not surprising to him, but your strong sense of will is. Like before, you let him show you what he is like and you didn’t back away at the end, just like now. He crawls up your body slowly, giving you the time to pull back if you wanted to, but your arms only come to his chest, gripping at him. “You are not scared?” He can’t help but ask, your eyes on the tentacles coming from the lower part of his back, still carefully tugged away from your reach.
“Should I?” You say, eyes flickering to his, naked chest still rising heavily. The sight before you makes the tip of your fingers tingle and you hope you won’t regret your own curiosity. “Do you control them?”
His cheeks dust pink, because he knows you are asking him if he touched you with them on his own behalf. “Yes.” He whispers, hands gripping at your waist.
“Can I touch them?”
His mouth falls open, seeing your face turn into wonder. “You sure?” His heart stops when you send him a small smile, nodding at his question. His pupils expand just from your expression, moving one of his tentacles closer to you. His breathing shatters, the purple, long limb twitching away on an instinct as you extend your hand. There is only wonder and curiosity — pondering if him making his tentacles shows is a some sort of form of arousal or if it is just him accidentally letting his guard down. However he did touch you with it and it was for sure on purpose…
Your fingers come to touch the slippery, slick surface of the outside, eyes flickering momentarily at him trying to see any form of pain or discomfort. He only blinks at you hasily, bottom lip tucked between his teeth. It moves smoothly, like a snake and as you look closer you notice small specks and lines in lighter hue decorating the length of it. It reminds you of his eyes — vibrant purple watching you carefully, body still hovering on top of yours. The tentacle is thicker at the bottom, tip slimmer and pointer. The underside of it has suckers, eyes widening in amazement as they seem retract, like they wanted to stick to something. You hum is long, tips of your fingers running up the limb, before you come to wrap your hand gently around it. “Hm — it’s soft.” You mumble under your breath, thumb coming to middle of one of the sucker and it instantly wraps around your digit, accidentally squeezing your hand at the gesture.
“Fuck-“ Flies out his mouth, head hanging low, hair covering his face. Your grip goes to loosen, but when you feel him shiver, your mind expands.
“You feel that?” You ask, eyebrows furrowing, squeezing shortly to prove something to yourself and then you only hear a pathetic whimper ring in the air. “How does it feel?” Your voice is hazier, eyes flickering from the sucker wrapping around your thumb to him.
Han’s hands that are supporting his weight start to tremble, gasping when he lifts his head up — you are teasing him, you…you who was firstly scared of from the existence of him alone. You realize yourself way too quickly, that he is truly controlling every move of it, that it is part of his body, that it makes him fucking whine. “Good-“ He responds firstly, but then he almost jumps out of his skin, when your hand slides down the limb in a perfect stroke. “Holy shit — you are crazy.” He breathes out a short laugh of disbelief, watching his tentacle twitch as you start to move your hand up and down.
You are mesmerized by him, eyes shinning in delight. “You like it though.” You say. The tip of it comes to wrap around wrist, but it doesn’t stop you, more or so the closer you get to the base of it, the more his chest start to tighten. The other ones curl up as well, the suckers tightening over nothing, while the ones you are holding come to wrap around your skin. They stick to you almost painfully, but you can tell he is trying his best not hurt you — even if he is shaking, like a complete mess. You wonder what purpose they hold…you wonder what would happened if you didn’t stop him.
Crying out Han’s body betrays him, chest falling on top yours. “I-I do-“ He nods, hair ticking your nose, making you caress the top of his head. Your touch sends shiver up his spine, back arching and at that you notice how the tentacles are coming from underneath his shirt that has ridden up. However you are the one to gasp next when you firstly see his hips rolling, before you feel his covered cock rutting against you. Just that touch seemed to awake the heat in your lower tummy and your sound isn’t missed. Han lifts himself up as best as he can, watching your face scrunch up with pleasure when he rolls his hips into yours again. He can still taste your sweetness on his tongue, feeling your hand stilling at the slightest of graze of his cock over your pussy. “Will you let me touch you?” He asks and you almost grumble at him for asking you such a question, but then you realize what he meant. “With them?”
Looking back at your hand, still around the tentacle, you can’t help but feel curious and anxious at the same time. “Will it hurt?” You wonder out loud, staring at the thick base, but with his hand turning you towards him you are given a look of reinsurance.
He shakes his head softly. “No, I promise.” And you do trust him — after everything, you know there is no danger when it comes to him.
“Okay.”
Han nods his head yet again, like he is telling himself that this alright as well. He sits up, limb expanding back, pulling out of your hold, while you lay your hands by your head. You don’t know what to do with them, but to his pleasure he is thankful you let him touch you freely. Shuffling down your bed a little, he sits at the back of his knees, hands coming to hold your legs apart — you don’t even have the strength to feel embarrassed by the leakage on your sheets, pooling right under your ass. You are not the only one eager it seems. The one you have been holding, which was the one you were the most familiar with slides down the middle of your body.
The texture is almost slimy, leaving small trail behind as the tip goes back between your thighs like before, but now it is different — now you can enjoy the view as well. You have seen things like these before, but you never thought you would ever come even close to it, let alone experience the real thing. The tentacle acts just the same as his fingers, running firstly over your slit, feeling it harden against you. A moan leaves you, silently begging him to continue and to your delight he does. You are still so sensitive from his mouth and tongue, chasing the feeling of pleasure, hips pushing closer to it.
Han gives you a look, when he moves to your hole, tip just barely there. You admire is dedication of making you feel comfortable, but you are too close to the edge already not to send him a glare. There isn’t even any emotion behind it, eyes just piercing through his, not looking away, even as he slides the tip into you. You stiffen…you have come to realize that being with him comes with a change, but simply you have never felt something like that inside you before. It isn’t hard like a cock or one of the toys you hide under your bed — it is only shape like it in a sense, but it is wet, long, like a tongue. Though you were sure he wouldn’t be able to reach the sweet spot in you so quickly…
You arch into it, however not letting your sight of the tentacle slowly sliding into you. Your moan is so loud, that it shakes the room, hand flying to grasp his. The limb goes deeper, your walls squeezing around it, relief and pleasure washing over you. You are losing your mind from how fast it reaches your cervix, goosebumps rising all over your skin when the tip pokes at it. “Fuck, that’s-“ Mind blowing simply, feeling how the suckers come to latch onto the skin of your inner thighs, while it starts to curl up inside you. “So good–“ Your mouth falls open, finally looking up to his face and your sounds of pleasure stop at his expression — he is enjoying this as well, lips parting and then closing, staring down at his tentacle moving inside you. “More please.” You whisper and it almost falls to deaf ears, but the sting of your nails piercing into his hand makes him turn to you.
“You-“ He is speechless, but the heavy sigh he has been holding finally falls from his lips.
“Yes! Stop asking, please-“ You whine out, sending him such a sweet look full of need.
The other tentacles come to your view again — quickly, trying to keep with their movements, but they are swift as a whip. The one on the other side of the one inside you, travels to your cunt as well, but this one…this one turns to lay one of the suckers right over your clit. “Hm!” You squeal at the sensation, almost closing your legs if it wasn’t for his tight grip, because it instantly comes to suck at your puffy bundle nerves, its rim wrapping around it. You cry out, as it seems to fit perfectly and in your delirious state you only can breathe out choked sighs while the other ones — slimmer, faster wrap around your harden nipples.
You are in shock, body tensed up, but it still shakes wildly under him. Your eyes roll back inside your head from all the other sensations. The one inside you starts to thrust, each time the base becoming thicker and thicker, stretching you out. The other one sucks even harder on your clit, sending shockwaves down your body — the other two tugging meanly at your red nipples, tips of them poking at your peaks. You can’t keep up with him, ears ringing from the nasty wet noises coming from your cunt and the tentacles. Han’s eyes are wide, trying to take in the full picture of you taking him all in — it is better than he imagined. You are covered in purple, the color so beautiful against your shade of skin, watching your stomach contract, whimpering himself from everything you are experiencing.
There is no part of you that is left untouched, letting him wrap you in his long limbs. “Cum for me, please — it is too much-“ Han whines out, like he is the one in your place, but you can’t forget about the fact that he does feel everything as well. He feels the drag of his tentacle inside your warm cunt, he does feel and see how your nipples swell around his limbs, he feels every single twitch of your clit latched with one of his suckers. You have taken so much of him already, your hole is basically swallowing up every new inch he gives you, unconsciously the tip sliding over the opening of your cervix, length pressing just right over the softest spot inside you.
You are becoming a babbling mess, series of pleas and moans filling up your room, tears leaving your eyes as you blink them open. Your nails dig into his hand, but none of you feels it. Then as you look down your body, the sight simply is the thing that hurls you over the edge. “Cumming-“ You cry out, back arching. “Please — oh, my-“ You are saying bunch of nonsense, but to him they are the most filthy sound he ever heard. Your tummy contracts, the burning sensation of everything he is doing to you, too good not to make you completely leave in shakes, feeling the first spark of your peak.
White is all you see, low hum filling your head, whole body arching off the bed from the seemingly non stopping waves of pleasure. You become hyper focus on everything — how the tentacle inside you twitches as your walls tighten, how the one on your clit doesn’t let up, making your orgasm extend and how the ones around your nipples tug a little too harshly from your trembling movements. You feel yourself leaking around his limb, creating a messy white ring at the base, dripping down to your already ruined sheets. Your breathing is uneven, but after a moment you feel your muscles spasming, before your grip on his hand and sheets become limp.
You are on the bring of overstimulation, a small whimper different from the others, making him finally let up on your spent body. However your desire and hunger stays, taking a deep breath of his scent into your lungs. When the tentacle slides out of you a loud, slick noise is heard, walls squeezing around nothing now, trying to unconsciously suck him back in. You feel how you are left stretched out and surprisingly it sends a tingle of delicious pleasure through you. Han can’t quite seem to catch his breath as well, pulling away from your clit — red and swollen, just like your nipples and the red, blotchy spot on your breast. He travels his eyes over you, marveling at the sight infront of him in a small silence, while his cock presses painful against his pants.
Small humms and sighs leave you, eyes carefully blinking open, vision still filled with sparks of colors. You feel the small soreness in your core, but you also feel so empty — suddenly Han comes to your view, sweat coating his hairline, while his face controls in concern. “Shit — you okay?” You nearly laugh at him, you really do. Though you still appreciate his concern, drinking up his sweet gesture, hands falling to his warm cheeks.
Even when you lean to land a small kiss at his puckered lips, the look on his face doesn’t melt away, but when you start to circle your thumbs over his cheekbones it melts. “Yeah-“ Your scratchy voice makes him breathe out a sigh, licking at his lips so the taste of your lingers for a little longer. You both gave yourselves a whiplash from how fast your position changed — you are the one begging now. You pull his head closer to you, noses rubbing against each other. “Need you now, please-“ You mumble softly against his lips and he can’t help but groan into you.
“Fuck–“ He curses from your words and tone, the feeling of your slick juices on his tentacles coming to contact with the cold air. You hum sweetly at his bad word, kissing him sloppily, making him feel your neediness. “Want me to fuck you, hm?” He says into your mouth, smacking his lips against yours.
“Fuck, yes–“ You breathe out, pulling him into a heated kiss with your hand in his hair, while the other grasp at his muscular shoulder.
“You are still shaking.” He states the obvious, pulling away a little, hands on your hips.
“I don’t care.” You say back, rolling your eyes lightly, hissing lightly, when you see him open his mouth again. “Shut up.”
“Of course.”
He separates himself from you, tugging hurriedly his t-shirt over his head — it is little clumsy, because his tentacles are in the way, making them momentarily retreat, but not disappear. There is no need anymore, you have excepted him. Just like he wanted. Your eyes slide over his chest and exposed skin, which you have dreamed about, finally at your reach. He slides off the bed for a moment, just to take his pants off, the sound of his zipper coming undone loud to the both of you. Your breathing stops, eyes on his lower half, heart picking up speed the more he exposed himself to you, till you see the smooth skin of his base. He is looking at you, as he finally takes his pants off, cock immediately slapping against his stomach.
He is big — long, thicker at the base, just like his tentacles, tip flushed, hissing the moment cold air hits him. However the thing that leaves you stunned the most is his cum…it’s shinning purple. You could have guessed that, but your mind has been too occupied till now. “So pretty.” You, whisper biting your lip. Your words make Han choke, pink dusting his cheeks and you grow slightly amused at the thought of his blush being purple.
He crawls back up your body, precum smearing over you in the process and your eyes widened at the feeling and sight. It is thicker than his blood, but it seems like it doesn’t die down in its light — seemingly glowing more when it comes in contact with your skin. The thing you also didn’t notice till now is that his base is smooth, just one thick bump in replacement of two. “I don’t think, I will last long.” He says sheepishly, hands coming to rest on either side of your head. His cock falls onto your lower stomach, making the familiar desire in your grow, even if you are already overstimulated beyond your limit.
The glowing tip is just at your belly button and you grow thankful for him fucking you with his tentacle first — they now lazily swirl around you both, making you feel all too safer from the outside world. “Just give it to me, baby.” You say, the nickname makes his lips part, before they crashed to yours yet again.
Your kiss is messy as before, your hands running down his chest, while one of his comes to expose you more to him — you are still wearing clothes somehow, but you know that they will be too ruined to be worn ever again. While his hand tugs your t-shirt up your stomach, yours slides down his hard stomach to his cock. Both of you moan at the feeling, your hand wrapping around him, thumb circling over his tip, smearing him in his cum. You are both slick and ready, no need to wet his cock when your pussy is still leaking from your orgasm. You guide him and he lets you, hips rolling into your hand, chasing your softness.
His tip is thick, even after everything he did, it still is a delicious stretch. Your hand leaves him, Han leaning his weight on his hands, making your head sink into your tear stained pillow deeper. You are so soft and warm — his cock slowly penetrates your stretched out cunt, losing his mind immediately when your walls come to wrap around him. “Fuck, you feel so good.” You moan in acknowledgment, nails digging into his back from the small burn. However you can’t stop watching him — the face he makes, when his cock disappears inside you, seeing from the corner of your eyes the tentacles twitching around your bodies.
His cock slides almost all the way into you, tip kissing your cervix, but now it is harsher, even deeper, thicker base brushing over your spot. Han opens his eyes, when he finally sinks fully into you — looking at his slick coating your thighs, muscles twitching, before he trails his eyes over the rest of your body. You are making him speechless simply by existing. He lets you get use to him, but his hips start to roll against you still. When you don’t do anything to stop him, he doesn’t simply. The drag of his cock is too good, length sliding out of you, before snapping his hips back. “Oh, yeah-“ You choke a little, as he starts to move, feeling every inch and every single veins of his cock pushing into you.
“Big-“ Your eyes glimmer with tears, but that only seems to make him go faster. Your simple word goes immediately into his head, making him grow visible confidence, letting himself become loose more and more. The room fills with the sounds of skin slapping against skin — your pussy squelching loudly, making you whimper in small embarrassment.
He leans to press his naked chest against yours, feeling your nipples poking at his own. He wanted this for so long…His thrust become almost mean. Hard, fast, tip poking at your cervix, as the more your grip tightens, feeling you on the edge of breaking the skin of his back with your nails. His warning rings in your head — you are not so sure yourself if you are going to able to last for long. Your thighs wrap around his hips, ankles hooking under his back to pull him closer to you. You breathe in each other’s sounds of euphoria, watching his eyes glowing from your state. His mouth is open, lips slick from saliva. His smooth pelvis perfectly rubs at your painfully used clit, each time he pulls his cock from your cunt — just perfectly, enough the feel a spark of the right pleasure.
He can’t take his eyes off you — looking down at your tits, bouncing with each rut of his hips. The spot which he left on you is turning purple, just like the color of his whole true being. He decided himself that he never wants to see you in any other hue than this. With being so focused on you and at the feeling of your cunt eagerly sucking him in, a small drop of drool lands on your skin. His eyes grow wide for a second, looking at the drop of slick on your sternum, though you only tugs head to you. You don’t stop your sighs of delight, though they momentarily become softer when you blink at him lazily, before your mouth opens wider.
Shock pierces him, looking into your eyes in small hesitation, but you only show him commitment, with your actions. So — Han leans over to hover over your body, angling his mouth with yours before he spits onto your tongue. The drop of drool lands on the pink muscle, letting him look at glide down your tongue a little longer, before you swallow it, drunken smile stretching over your lips. However your small sweet expression is quickly wiped away from your lips — becoming a crying mess, when his hips snap into yours faster and deeper. Han is now the one grinning, though you can’t see it with your blurry vision, only feeling how he goes to swipe his own tongue over your softer one, drinking in your high pitched whimpers. He is basically drilling his cock into you, ruining you for anyone else — there won’t be. Permanently creating a perfect mold of his cock in your cunt, going deeper, you not thinking that was even possible. You feel his throat opening, like he wanted to say something, but then his own move surprises him.
One of his tentacles lightly licks at your shoulder, poking you and he again did that without his will, purely on an instinct. Your head rolls to the direction of it, mind too empty, just so full of pleasure and his cock to think about what you are doing — you grasp it, your warm hand tightening, before you make him completely shatter in his rhythm, when your tongue comes to slide against the length of it. He almost growls, when you turn back at him, mouth closing around the tip. “You are so perfect-“ His hands smooths down your hair almost lovingly, but it couldn’t be said the same for the rough drags of his cock. Your grip loosens just because he is now pressing down the tentacle on your tongue. Every sound you make, he can feel vibrating against him, nearly choking when the tip meets the back of your throat. “I’m close-“ He says, gasping at the upcoming feeling spreading inside his body. “I’m so close, baby-“
He is almost sobbing, matching your tear stained gaze. You pull him out of your mouth a little, sucking lightly in the process. “Give it to me, please-“ Your skin is hot to touch, sweat making you stick to his body, wetness coating your inner thighs. The tingling sensation in you is making it hard to breathe, hands sliding over his back to atleast try to ground yourself, though you only seem to shake.
Your words hit him — expression darkening for a split second, but you are not quick enough to catch it. His other three tentacles wrap around arms, suckers latching on to you, making you gasp in surprise. “Fuck, you want it?” His voice is strained, sitting up to his knees to make his cock hit your spot dead on. “You want me to fill your pussy, hm?” You have never heard him use this tone before, so demanding. It makes your whole body cover in goosebumps, whimpering around the purple limb in your mouth, while the others tighten around you.
“Han-“ You nearly choke again.
“You want it?“ He hums, mimicking you, when you nod your head pathetically fast. “Fuck — say it.” You only can feel the way his cocks swells inside you — your clit burning, body shivering. You don’t even notice the pressure on your arms disappearing.
“I want it, Han. Please — cum inside-“ His breathing becomes faster, cock dragging against you in long, hard strokes. “Please, please, please-“ You don’t even care how pathetic you sound, blinking away your tears, only now noticing the two tentacles sliding up your thighs. “Han!” Your eyes grow wide, back arching when they suddenly slide into you, stretching you beyond your limits.
Han coos at you softly, watching his tentacles disappearing inside your cunt, thrust slowing to slow harsh humps, but you can’t even tell the difference right now. It burns — enough for you to screw your eyes shut, but the euphoria reaching it hands out to you is too good to stop. “Shhh, it’s okay. Take it, baby…” He slurs, his purple limbs coming to either side your cervix. Your sob is small, mostly filled with pleasure, legs tightening around his back, grazing over the very base of the tentacles. He cries out at the touch, ruts becoming sloppy, but that doesn’t even matter, when your head rolls into your pillow as you hit the peak of your pleasure.
“That’s it — such a good girl.”
Whimpering, the tentacle slips out of your mouth, curling suddenly and you realize immediately why, when he snap his hips into yours for the last time. The ones inside you split you open literally, the base of his cock sliding into you. It feels like he is in your throat, head lazily rolling down to rest against your chest — gasping at seeing your tummy bulging. You can see the outline of his cock in your stomach, feel every pump of his hot cum filling you. The purple limbs coming from his back twitch, feeling their pointy tip spreading you so his slick would stay. Han is a mess, hand shaking next to your head, while the other comes to rest against your stomach.
The pressure is good — way too good, for something so sinful. It is like you can feel his cock growing soft, but then you realize it is just his base that you learned holds his warm cum. You are so fucking full, you cry weekly as you let him pump every last bit inside you. You wanted it, you still feel your pussy squeezing him at him and his limbs desperately. It is the best and the most nastiest thing imaginable. “Too much-“ You mumble and that seems to snap him back into reality, eyes traveling to yours, before he slowly pulls out. It is firstly is tentacles, slick from your juices and glowing from his. You find your strength to sit up to watch his cock popping out of your cunt, his fluorescent cum instantly leaking out of your puffy, used hole. He is mesmerized just like you by the sight, breathing heavily, sitting up as well to take a better look at you.
Your body lays limply under his, chest heaving and cunt still clenching over every leak of his cum. It stains your sheets, yours and even his skin, like a mark — feeling the small red, tender spots from his suckers, running all the way up your arms. Your eyes are barely open, but they are on his, not leaving, even when he goes to lie his body on top of your to press a longing kiss at your lips, full of lust and sweetness which he always had for you. There is no turning back...Han wanted you from the moment, he saw you sitting on your porch and you were too blind to see the darkness in the glow in his eyes every time you were near him. He couldn’t get enough of you — everything you did called to him. Your smile, your voice, your body. He finally has you where he wished you to be — right with him.
He can’t wait to finally take you away from this horrible place — just like he intended…
it’s so sad to see you go, you can’t imagine how your ideas and writing inspired me. and i laughed and i cried and i fucking loved
the ride was fucking fantastic. just don’t want to forget you ever
stay safe and very very happy
🤡 🔫
Hey anonnie 🥰🥰🥰 thank you baby for your msg. I’m still uncertain as to what the fuck I’m doing, with some consideration around leaving it all up but no longer using. Then if I even change my mind and ever write again I could.
I completely understand your choice to not be active on this account anymore , but is there anyway instead of deactivating you could keep your works up . I come back to your fics so much tbh and I would be heartbroken to never read them again
But again I respect your decision completely
Oh my sweet friend. Your message means so much to me. I am definitely considering this as an alternative to deactivating… 😘
La petite mort. ‘the little death' is an expression that refers to a brief loss or weakening of consciousness, and in modern usage refers specifically to a post-orgasm sensation as likened to death.
fem!reader x ghost!Skz
Your driver abandons you at a creepy mansion that turns out to be haunted by 8 cursed, horny ghosts. Their mission is your pleasure.
Word count: 6.8k
Content Warning below
CW: ot8 are ghosts, drugging/intoxication of reader, seduction?coercion?, sexual acts with ghosts, vaginal fingering, oral sex (m & f), vaginal and anal penetration, blow jobs, double pen in 2 holes, double pen one hole, restraints, rough sex, spitting, it's basically a gangbang, sub reader, there is a part where a cock alternates between readers vagina and anus - this is not recommended irl, choking, name calling, pet names. The sexual acts in this story are not meant to reflect how things work irl.
a/n: this story isn't a love story, like I often write here on this blog. It's basically self indulgent ot8 porn. It's my first oneshot that features all 8 members fully, and it was actually so hard to write. I considered posting this story on my side blog @daydreams-after-dark where I write my unhinged shit, but it took so much energy and thought, that I wanted to keep it over here with my other oneshots of similar length.
I hope you enjoy this oneshot. If you do, please let me know your favourite part, and consider a reblog. x. Sorsha.
“Ma’m, I think we need to stop the car, this weather is just making it too hard to see.” your driver called over his shoulder. The rain outside was falling harder than ever, and with it being the dead of night, and on a windy deserted road, you knew he was right. It wasn’t safe.
“But where on earth do we stop?” You replied, trying to see out of the window.
“I think I’ve taken a wrong turn.” He said in a shaky voice. “But… I think I’ve found somewhere we can pull over.”
You leaned around to look between the two front seats of the car, and could just make out the shape of a mansion ahead of you. Your driver pulled the car to a stop in front of the dwelling. “Should we go knock on the door?” You wondered, but your driver was getting out of the car and pulled out your suitcase.
“I think so. I could barely see the road.” He insisted.
You let out a big sigh and climbed out of the car. From what you could tell, the mansion was enormous, and very old.
Stepping up to the front door you saw there was no doorbell. Just a big brass knocker. “You know,” you turn to your driver who plonked down your suitcase beside your feet. “This feels a lot like that Backstreet Boys music video. The one with a haunted mansion.” You gripped the knocker in your hand and knocked three times and waited. “You know, Backstreets Bac-“ You turned to your driver but he was running back to the car, jumping back in and driving away. The fucker!
“Hey!” You yelled after him, but he was gone.
The big front door creaked open, capturing your attention. A young man with fluffy long blonde hair peeked his head around the door.
“Oh my goodness!” You wailed. “I…it was raining…and…well…my driver…he’s just left me here.”
The young man looked at you curiously. “Come in out of the cold.” He smiled warmly. He immediately put you at ease.
“My name’s Felix.” He said picking up your suitcase.
“Y/n.” You replied following him into the mansion. It was quite dark, but you could make out that you were in a large entry hall, with a grand staircase in the centre.
“You will need to stay the night.” he stated. “I’ll take you to your room.”
“Stay the night?” You turned to him. “But I just need to make a phone call, have someone come collect me.”
Felix shook his head. We haven’t any mobile reception, and the landline is down. Due to the storm.”
You frowned.
“Plus,” he began as he started up the stairs. “No one should be driving in this weather.”
You closed your eyes and sighed. He was right. You followed Felix up the winding staircase and along a dimly lit hall. The place was creepy. It felt deserted and cold. Such a contrast from the man leading you to your room. Felix seemed so warm, like sunshine. Why would someone like him live here?
“Here we are.” He opened a door at the end of the hall. “You will be staying here. I’ll bring you up some supper and a cup of hot…chocolate. Yes, hot chocolate.” he rambled. “Please-” he gestured for you to enter the room and placed your suitcase on the floor beside you.
“Feli-?” you turned to the blond man, but he was gone. Weird. “Felix?” you called and popped your head back out into the hallway. But he had completely disappeared. Vanished into thin air.
Despite the cold emptiness of the mansion, your room was stunning. Even if it did look like it came out of a haunted house movie. It had Victorian gothic themed decor, with a huge bed that had four thick posts, and the bedhead itself was a feature piece. It came almost up to the high ceiling. Dim lamps around the walls illuminated the room. The entire space was grand and of another time.
“I suppose I could spend the night here.” you patted the bed. The bedding seemed freshly cleaned, and you noticed there was no dust on anything. It was like whoever lived here was expecting a guest. Was Felix the only one here? You wondered as you opened your suitcase and pulled out your silk nightie.
Your sleepwear seemed far too vulnerable and sexy for such a room and as you climbed into the giant bed, you had thoughts of some beast coming and ruining you in your sleep. Maybe you’d need to stay awake just to be safe?
Knock knock.
You pulled your knees to your chest, and your heart began to pound. Someone’s come to rape you and murder you. Your mind had really spiraled over the past ten minutes.
“Y/n? It’s Felix. I’ve brought you some food and a a-drink.”
You scampered over to the door. “Fel-” you started. But again no one was there. How was he so quick?
On the floor at your feet was a tray with a slice of cake and a big mug of hot chocolate. You took the tray back to your bed. You were hungrier than you thought, practically inhaling the cake within a minute.
You turned your attention to the hot drink, bringing it to your lips and taking a sip. It was delicious. Rich, creamy, with a hint of something you couldn’t put your finger on. You took another sip, allowing the warmth to wash over you. By the time you had drunk the last of it, you were feeling floaty and fuzzy, almost like you were drunk.
All thoughts about your safety left you as you snuggled down and fell asleep.
Your core ached as you felt your body buzz and swirl. Sensations of cool hands all over your body, caressing your legs, and your breasts, making you moan. More. You needed more. Whatever this was, you had to have more or you’d die. Your body felt hot, like it was on fire, and you needed the relief of the coolness that was caressing you.
The sensation moved up your inner thigh, while elsewhere on your body it wrapped around your neck. More across your stomach and breasts. It reached the top of your inner thigh and, ‘oh god yes, touch me there’, slipped inside of you. You felt like you were writhing on the bed, back arching off the mattress. But then it seemed you couldn’t move at all. It was like you were being held down. You tried to cry out, the pleasure becoming unbearable, but your mouth was filled with the same coldness that was inside your pussy. Again, your body cried ‘More’. You needed more. The cool sensation then filled you deeper and deeper and stretched you open, fuller, wider than ever before. Your throat felt full too, and you were certain you were going to choke. Your dreamy vision blurred further until you were seeing white, and the tension in your body reached breaking point. A surge of cold energy filled you and your core burst with a relief like you’d never experienced in your entire life. Your walls squeezed and pulsed around the coldness inside of you.
Your eyes flung open. Your chest was heaving. Your body was hot. Your cunt still fluttering. Fuck. That was some dream. You ran your hands over your body, down between your legs. Your panties! They were gone. You sat up abruptly, your eyes darting around to locate your missing underwear. There they were, at the far corner of the bed. Torn. What the actual fuck?
“You did that to yourself, you know.” a voice said from the corner of the room.
“Huh?” your eyes shot to a man sitting in the shadows in the corner.
“We didn’t touch you.” he added.
You were confused. “We?” you arched an eyebrow, trying to calm your racing heart.
The man disappeared, startling you, then reappeared sitting on the edge of the mattress.
You pulled your knees into your chest. “How the fuck did you do that? Who are you? What are you? How’d you just do that?” you cried shrilly.
The man smiled, his dimpled cheeks and kind eyes making him appear non-threatening. But that didn’t mean he wasn't a psycho killer. A magic psycho killer.
“Here, have another hot chocolate.” he passed you a mug.
The hot chocolate. You scowled at the man. “You drugged me!” you hissed.
The man shrugged. “It’s an ancient remedy. We needed to know if you were compatible with us.”
“Compatible? Compatible for what? What do you mean, ‘us’? You and Felix? What does this drink do?”
“Shh..babygirl. It’s okay.” he hushed you. “The drink merely relaxes you and unlocks what you crave most. I promise it wears off within twelve hours. The drink you had earlier was only one eighth the strength of this one here.” he pointed to the drink in your hands.
You brought the drink to your nose and inhaled. It smelled irresistible, and you resisted the strong compulsion to drink it down. “But why do you want me to drink more? Couldn’t you tell if I was compatible or not from…”
“You are compatible. It was clear the moment you called for us.” He said simply.
Your eyes widened. “Called for you? But I don’t even know you.” you whispered.
“The coldness you felt.” he leaned closer. “On your body. Inside your body. That was us. You could feel us even though we hadn’t touched you.”
You held your breath.
“We could feel you too. We could feel your desire. Your warmth. You aliveness. Your tightness. It wrapped around us.” he whispered.
You whimpered. He, they, could feel you? You bit your lip. “So why drink more?” you arched an eyebrow. “If you know I’m compatible with…whatever this is.”
“Because what I’m about to tell you might be,” he sucked in a breath. “Overwhelming.”
You locked eyes with this stranger and carefully took a big gulp of the hot chocolate. You immediately felt a sense of warmth flow through your body and pooling in your core.
“You see, y/n, we’re ghosts.”
You just stared at him. “What?” you laughed. “Just ‘cos you did some magic disappear-reappear thing before, I don’t believe in-”
The man in front of you turned translucent. Fuck. Your mouth fell open. You could still see him, but his colours were muted, and he wasn’t….solid.
“You’re a fucking ghost?” you choked. This wasn’t happening. Surely the drink has some kind of hallucinogen?
“Y/n, allow me to introduce you to my brothers.” he gestured for you to look around the room. Gradually, seven young, translucent, men emerged from the shadows.
“Holy shit!” you whispered and swallowed hard.
“My name is Chan.” the dimpled mad said. “And here we have Changbin, Hyunjin, Jisung.” he pointed to three of the men who waved at you. ‘And over there we have Suengmin, Jeongin, Minho, and you’ve already met Felix.”
“Sorry I drugged you.” Felix blushed and lowered his gaze.
“May we come sit on the bed?” the one named Hyunjin asked. “We won’t touch you unless you ask.” he added.
Why did that something to your insides?
You nodded and the ghost men gathered around and hopped on the bed. That’s when you noticed they were all quite young and very handsome. And they were all wearing the same thing. A gold and black silk bathrobe.
The words of Chan resounded in your head. “You called to us”, “We could feel your desire. Your warmth. You aliveness. Your tightness.”
You pulled the blanket up higher and stared at your drink, considering whether or not to drink more if it was going to help you relax.
“W-what did you do when I called to you?” you asked in a small voice.
“We came straight away.” Another man said. Seungmin, you think.
“We watched you, kitten.” Minho smirked.
“You were so receptive.” Changbin added.
“Your body begged us to fill you, squeeze you. Fuck you.” Hyunjin said silkily.
“But you didn’t… touch me, right?”
“No, babygirl. Like I said, your body showed us what you craved most. We didn’t touch you. I promise. But we could feel you.”
“But why do I crave you?” you were confused as to how this could even be happening.
“We think it’s part of the curse.” The chubby cheeked boy, Jisung, said. “Every so often a woman will stumble upon our mansion. We give them a drink,” he nodded to the cup in your hand, “to see if they’re compatible. Sometimes they just sleep soundly.”
“Those ones aren’t compatible.” Seungmin chimes in.
“And some, like you, are receptive.” Jisung continued.
“Compatible.” Added Minho.
You looked around the room. So you craved these… ghosts? Sexually? Was this a trick? You thought about your dream and how incredible it felt to be consumed by whatever it was that was touching you. Would it feel like that?
“What happens when you find a compatible woman?” You were almost afraid to ask.
“We have to pleasure her.” Chan said flatly.
Your eyes flicked to his.
“And what happens if you don’t?”
“We get tortured.”
Your eyes widen. “Tortured? Why? By who?”
“I think we need to tell her the whole story.” Said Jeongin.
Chan rubbed his chin. “Hmm, you’re right.” He took a moment before he spoke.
“Y/n. When we were alive we were… a harem. Or reverse harem, I suppose. We had our Mistress whom we served… sexually. She wasn’t right, in the head. She went mad. She didn’t want us to age, to get older. So she hired a witch who was meant to concoct a spell that would keep us young for eternity. The spell was not only to keep us youthful either, but also bind us,” he looked around at the other men. “To be sex slaves forever.”
“But it went wrong.” Exclaimed Jisung. “It killed us. Now we’re young, dead, sex slaves forever.” He looked down at the bedspread.
The mood in the room suddenly dropped and you could tell all the men were in a moment of reflection.
“So,” you started slowly. “When a woman comes along who subconsciously requires your… services… then you are bound to fulfill her needs?”
They all nodded.
“Our bodies naturally respond. It’s intoxicating.” Hyunjin said softly. “All of us are aching for you.” His hand reached out and touched your arm. Cold. Cold just like the sensation in your dream.
“What if I say no? What happens?”
“We won’t touch you.” Chan states.
“But we’d be in pain until the next compatible woman comes along.” Said Felix.
“The urge and desire won’t dissipate until we have found another compatible woman.” added Seungmin.
You considered everything they just told you. It was wild. It was far-fetched, and absolutely unbelievable. But here you were. On a bed with a room full of ghosts. Ghosts that were horny for you. You should say no. But you couldn’t. It seemed you were horny for them too.
They were alluring. Tempting. Could they make you feel the way you did in your dream? They weren’t even touching you then, supposedly, and you wondered what it’d feel like to have them really do those things to you, and more.
You took the cup to your mouth. “What happens if I drink this stronger version?” You looked at Felix.
“It will relax you. But more importantly it shows us what your body truly needs to be sated, and who want to do it to you.” Said Changbin.
“There’s no hiding if you drink that. You won’t be able to hold back.” Minho smirked.
“And everything will feel more intense.” Added Jeongin.
“Babygirl.” Chan gripped your arm. “You need to give us your permission. Will you let us pleasure you… fuck you until you can’t take any more?”
You bit your lip. “Yes.” you whispered, and gulped the entire drink down.
“That’s it, baby.” Clapped Jisung.
“I knew from how hard she came earlier that she’d be up for this.” Seungmin added.
“She’s just drank the whole thing. Chan, that was full strength.” Felix was horrified.
“Means she’ll be pliable, we can do anything.” Seungmin said slyly.
“Well, anything she wants.” Corrected Changbin..
“She’ll want us to do absolutely everything. I can tell. This one’s a fucking freak.” Said Minho.
You immediately became lightheaded. And hot. So fucking hot. You threw the blanket off and started clawing at your skimpy nightie. “Hot!” you cried. “So hot.”
Ice cold hands came to your body, ripping the garment from you, leaving you naked, on fire, your skin burning. “Please!” you cried, searching for the cool relief of those hands.
A hand wrapped around your leg, dragging you into the middle of the mattress. More hands started to explore your body. Firm, freezing, so relieving against your scorching skin.
You opened your eyes to find that all eight ghosts were surrounding you on the bed. But they weren’t translucent anymore. They appeared as real as living men. “Touch me.” you sobbed as your eyes darted around to each of them.
“Fuck, she’s perfect.” Whispered Jisung.
You didn’t know whose hands were who’s, but there were so many on your body. So cooling to the skin. A hand cupped a breast, while another pinched your other nipple. Your legs were spread wide and a frozen cold tongue pressed against your pussy.
“Fuck!” you cried out and looked down to find Jisung sucking on your clit. “Fuck! Feels so good.” you panted.
“How does she taste, brother?” someone asked.
“Like pussy.” he groaned. “I fucking missed this taste.”
While your eyes had rolled back into your head from the intensity of what was happening, you felt your arms being pulled above your head, and soft velvet ropes were tied around your wrists. You looked up behind you to see Minho tying the other ends of the ropes to the headposts. “Kitten likes to be tied up.” he winked at you.
Meanwhile, Jisung had peeled himself away from between your legs and Hyunjin was kneeling between them, gazing at your pussy. Just the way he was looking at you and licking his lips made your cunt gush. He noticed and swiped his finger over your dripping arousal, then took his finger to his lips. He proceeded to wink at you, slip off his robe. With the most deranged look you’d ever seen on a man, he lifted your hips to line your entrance up with his cock, and slammed you onto him. His cock felt like a hard block of ice. Thick, hard, rigid. But so relieving inside your searing heat.
He was so strong, he wasn’t even thrusting. He was simply making you fuck him. The binds on your arms were pulled taut every time you were fully impaled on him.
“So pliable.” Jeongin said as he leaned down to suck one of your nipples.
“Like a fucking ragdoll.’ Seungmin mused. “Look how her eyes roll back every time he fucks into her.”
It was so hard to focus on where everyone was and what they were doing. All you knew is that you needed them to touch you. You needed Hyunjin to keep doing whatever he was doing. He felt so long, so deep, and after a while the sharp coldness eased off and his cock started to feel more warm. More alive. You weren’t sure whether your body was warming him up, or if he was cooling you down.
Your core tightened, your orgasm was approaching fast. As if on cue, a finger landed on your clit, and rubbed hard, rough circles on it.
“Please…please…I’m gonna…I…I…so close..” you cried and babbled.
Hyunjin thrust you onto you harder, digging his fingers into your flesh, and the fingers on your clit became more forceful.
“It’s okay, Hyunin’s gonna make you cum.” Chan cooed.
A sudden powerful surge of cold energy exploded inside your cunt, causing your walls to automatically contract around it. “Holy fucking shit!” you panted. “I’m…fuck!!!” your walls clenched tighter than they ever had before, and you were coming so hard you thought your body had split apart. It felt as though your entire pelvic region was pulsing around Hyunjin’s cock. It lasted so long, maybe an entire minute, and by the time you came down, you were sobbing. Hyunjin leaned over and took you in a deep kiss before slipping out.
“No! No!” you cried out. You were too empty now. Your body relaxed into the bed when a few sets of lips soothed you through kisses to your body. “More.” you whispered softly.
“Shh. You’re gonna be plenty filled tonight, baby.” Jisung whispered in your ear, before he hooked his hands under your arms and dragged you so your head hung off the edge of the mattress. He opened his robe to reveal his delicious cock, and you immediately opened your mouth for him. He smirked as he pushed his cock into your warm, wet mouth. He too was was ice cold, but you noticed he began to warm up quickly.
“Baby likes to choke on big cocks, huh?” he snarled. “I never expected such a perfect little lady to turn up on our doorstep tonight.” he pushed himself all the way into the back of your throat. You couldn’t breathe. But you didn’t care. Right now being filled with cock was more important to your survival than air.
“Fuck. You can see it pressing into her throat.” Jeongin hissed. He was setting himself up to fuck you now.
“If you put your hand on her neck, you can feel it.” Jisung said excitedly.
Jeongin reached up and pressed his hand to your neck, squeezing your throat and making Jisung feel so much bigger. He pulled out to let you catch your breath, and then he was stretching your throat out again.
Jeongin twisted your lower half so you were on your side from your waist down. He straddled your bottom leg, pinning it into position, whilst lifting your upper leg to rest on his shoulder. He pressed his hips, pushing his cock into you, and immediately started fucking you fast. He was hitting you so deep that you were certain he was pushing your cervix deeper and deeper into your body, and the way Jisung seemed to be pushing deeper and deeper into your throat, you thought they would eventually meet up in the middle.
Your hands were guided to wrap around two rock hard, ice cold cocks. You had no clue who they belonged to. You didn’t care. All these ghost men were fuckable. You wanted to touch and feel every single one of them.
“Grrr…I’m fucking coming.” cried Jeongin.
“Let’s cum in her at the same time.” Said Jisung.
Then you felt it. The same as with Hyunjin. The cold surge of energy, filling you up from both ends. Your back arched off the bed as you came again. Your hands squeezed around the cocks you were holding. Cries and hisses rang out around the room at the sight before them.
“Good girl. So fucking good.” Purred Jisung as he eased his cock from your mouth.
“Noooo!” You cried. He leaned down and kissed you. Baby, I’m gonna fuck you so good later. I already know what you’re gonna want me to do.” He winked.
Jeongin was gone too. The dicks in your hands also gone, and you whimpered at so much loss. You didn’t have time to cry for too long when you were suddenly dragged by your feet further onto the bed and flung into your stomach. “You’re such a filthy little slut, pup.” Seungmin laid against you, whispering nasty words in your ear. He’d grasped your arms, holding them both behind your back with one hand. Your hair was plastered on your cheek, and he spat on it before pushing your face against the mattress below.
“Please-” you choked.
“Oh, my slutty little pup. I know exactly what you want. But I wanna hear you say it for the whole class to hear.”
How does he know? You wondered to yourself in your delirious state. Seungmin pressed the length of his hardness against your ass.
“Please…fill my ass.” You sobbed. A collective hum spread around the room at your admission.
“That’s right.” Seungmin pressed his tip against your rim. You still weren’t used to how cold their cocks were to begin with. “Such a slut wanting me to put it in without loosening you up first.” He spat on the side of your face again, his saliva sticking in your hair. You needed him to hurry. You needed him to fill you. You were so fucking empty.
Seungmin’s cock breached your rim as he pressed his body further on top of you. The stretch felt overwhelmingly satisfying, while the coolness of his cock soothed the sting. The feeling of being trapped beneath him, arms held tight behind you, the feeling of helplessness intensified your need for him to penetrate you.
Finally, his hips met the curve of your ass cheeks. “Such a tight little hole. He grunted as he started to grind against you. “Not sure how tight it’ll be by morning.” He whispered low in your ear. He started with a slow, steady pace, allowing your body to warm his cock. “Harder…harder.” You mumbled into the mattress.
Seungmin growled and fucked into you, pressing your face further into the mattress. It felt like he was fucking you forever, yet not long enough. You were mumbling and dribbling all over the bed. Then, the familiar feeling of what seemed to be their orgasms, filled you once again, making you come hard. Your cunt clenched around nothing, and you were already desperate to have someone fill it again.
It was as though Minho read your mind, and as soon as Seungmin dislodged himself from your ass, he was dragging you to the otherside of the bed. He stood on the floor and pressed your legs up into a mating press position and drank you in with hungry eyes. “I love watching my cock sink into a pussy.” He said. “Watch with me.”
You looked down just in time to see his cock push inside of you. “Kittie’s hungry.” He smirked as you sucked in his entire cock, and glanced up at you. “Does it feel good?” He asked.
You nodded fervently. “Yes! So good.” You squeaked. He cocked an eyebrow. “What about your ass?” He pulled out of your cunt and pushed fully into into your ass.
“Fuck! So deep. So fucking deep.” You cried. This position allowed Minho to reach the deepest part of you. He fit your cunt so well, but, oh fuck, he felt incredible in your ass too. You wanted him to fuck both hol-
“You really are filthy.” Minho said disbelief. He pulled out of your ass and plunged back into your pussy.
You knew, you really knew, that this wasn’t a good idea, but you wanted him to do it so fucking bad. And he knew! He knew what you wanted. They all seemed to know. You didn’t have to say a word and they knew all the filthy things you craved.
You glanced around you to see some of the others had gathered around to watch Minho fuck your pussy, then your ass, then back to your pussy, while he held you still on the bed.
“Look how her holes stay open waiting for him to put it back in again.” Felix said mesmerised.
Despite your delirium, you had an idea. You wanted someone to finger fuck you when Minho was in your ass. He pulled out of your cunt once more and as he pushed back into your now gaping asshole, Changbin slipped two fingers into your pussy.
“That’s it, Bunny. Binnie’s fingers stretch you good don’t they?” He purred.
Your hands flailed around looking for cocks to jerk off, relieved to find Felix and Jeongin in your hands. “My mouth! Need someone in my mouth.” You whimpered.
“Fuck, she’s perfect.” Cooed Jisung again. “Chan, you should fill her mouth. She’s begging you.”
Yes. You wanted Chan in your mouth. “Please.” You were crying because you wanted it so bad. Chan straddled your chest and pressed the tip of his cock against your lip. “Open wide, babygirl. Daddy needs to make you choke.”
Your eyes rolled back into your head as he pushed his cock into your mouth. “That’s it. Suck on it.” He pushed deeper.
Minho picked up his pace, slamming into your ass at an alarming pace, and Changbin was digging into your g-spot aggressively. You were feeling so used, but at the same time so special.
“Changbin’s got four fingers in you, baby. You should see your pretty little holes.” Jisung panted as he fucked into his own hand.
Chan gripped your hair and started to fuck your throat at the same rhythm as Minho was fucking your ass. You didn’t know why taking their cocks down your throat was so incredibly arousing, but it was. You couldn’t get enough. It was almost like you didn’t need to breathe when they were in your mouth, and you wondered if it was some weird ghost magic.
You were pinned down and held still as they forced another orgasm out of you. How much more could your body take? You hadn’t even fucked all of them yet. You started to feel drowsy and your eyes fluttered closed. Chan withdrew his cock from your mouth, and some saliva dribbled down your chin.
“Babygirl.” He stroked your cheek. “Are you okay? You need to wake up for us. You still need more to be sated.”
Minho and Changbin pulled out of you too and came up to check on you.
“We can’t keep doing this if you’re asleep, pretty lady.” Felix stroked your hair and gazed down at you.
You opened your eyes and grinned with a fucked out expression. “Why am I empty?” You whispered.
“Atta girl.” Chan slapped your face, pulling you out of your sleepy moment, and just like that you were ready for more.
“Come ride me, bunny.” Changbin coaxed you over by gripping his cock and pumping it a few times. You licked your lips and crawled towards him, and a few hard slaps landed on your ass as you did so.
Changbin had a thick cock. Maybe the thickest you’d ever seen. You threw a leg over him and reached down to line his cock up with your entrance. You both sighed in relief as you slid effortlessly onto his thickness and immediately began to roll your hips. “Fuck, yeah, bunny. Still so tight, even after we’ve fucked you open.”
You grinned down at him as you found a rhythm with him rolling his hips up into you in the most delicious way. “Kiss me.” he sighed, and pulled you down on top of him and captured you in a deep kiss. You melted against him, as he cupped your ass and pulled your cheeks apart. You panted into Chanbgin’s mouth. “You want Felix at the same time?” he whispered. You nodded.
Like clockwork, you felt the mattress dip behind you. “It’s okay, love. Lixi’s gonna help keep you feeling full.” he positioned himself behind you and lined himself up with your ass.
Although your ass had been stretched by two cocks already, Felix was met with some resistance due to Changbin already filling you up so good. But Felix persevered, pressing and pushing until he was fully seated inside of you.
A few of the other men gasped at the sight of seeing you filled like this.
“Felix,” said Changbin. “You know what she wants us to do. Are you ready to give it to her?” Felix grabbed hold of your hips, pressing his fingers into you hard, and began to fuck you with hard, sharp thrusts. He snapped his hips quickly, forcing you to cry out in choked sobs. At the same time, Changbin gently rolled his hips up into you. The difference in technique and pace was driving you insane. The feeling of both your holes stretched like this was overwhelming. They were going to break you into pieces. You were sure of it. You were crying and sobbing, eventually collapsing onto Changbin and letting them fuck you dumb. Drool was dribbling out of your mouth onto Changbin’s shoulder, and you felt like you were losing your sense of consciousness.
“P-please…please…ruin me…fuck me…feels s’good…so deep… full.” You babbled.
“She’s so dumb from cock. Look at her. Eyes unfocused. Drooling.” Minho observed.
“Her cunt is gushing around Binnie too. You all know what she wants next, don’t you?” Jisung winked at Chan.
“C’mon fellas. Fuck her harder. She’ll fall asleep if you’re too gentle.” Minho snickered.
Both Changbin and Felix doubled down, both finding a matching rhythm, and slamming into your holes. Even though you knew what to expect from theirs orgasms, it still hit you hard, taking you over the edge with them. The three of you were a trembling mess by the time they pulled out of you.
“Pup, show us your pretty used holes.” Seungmin requested. You happily obliged by leaning your head into the bed, ass in the air, and spreading your cheeks with your shaky hands.
Whines, whimpers, sighs, and mumbled “fucks” filled the room as they all gazed hungrily at your sloppy, used holes. “Fuck, I wish I could ejaculate. I’d cum all over that ass.” sighed Hyunjin.
“I’d fucking cum in there and watch it ooze out.” added Minho.
“Babygirl.” Chan had laid himself on his back, leaning against the pillows. “My turn to feel your pussy. I’m out of patience.”
You sauntered over to him, and kissed him. “Turn around, babygirl. Show ‘em how you ride reverse.” You straddled him, reverse cowgirl, and swallowed up his cock whole. Chan’s cock was ice cold like the rest of the men, but he was much, much bigger. He stretched you out like you were made for him. “That’s it. There you go. There you go.” he cooed once you planted your feet into the mattress and used your legs as leverage to bounce yourself up and down his length.
All eyes were on your hole swallowing Chan’s cock, and then sliding up to reveal just how wet and slippery you were. Hyunjin was lying on his stomach watching everything curiously. A few of the others were pumping their still hard cocks. You even noticed a couple of the men were translucent again.
You eyes landed on the one man you hadn’t fucked yet. Jisung. He looked at your pussy desperately, like he was in pain. He needed you. He looked up, locking eyes with you, and in an instant, he crawled over to you. “Hey baby. You ready for me?” he grinned.
“I am.” you whimpered.
“Okay, lean back on me…that’s it.” instructed Chan. “Let’s push your legs up. Good girl. That’s it. Make room for Jisung.”
Jisung kneeled in front of you and rubbed his cock against your clit. “Please.” you plead. You watched as Jisung pushed against your entrance, beside Chan, and when the tip slipped in you cried out. “Fuck.” you squeaked. “It’s so…fuck…the stretch…it’s” your hands gripped onto Jisung’s arms to hold yourself in place as Jisung pushed further into your cunt.
Jisung’s cock was cold, where Chan’s had warmed up and the difference in temperature allowed you to feel the two distinct penises that were inside you.
“I’m gonna push all the way in now, baby.” Jisung pushed his hips hard, and with your pussy so wet, it gave way just enough for the rest to slip in.
“Fuck, it’s so tight.” Jisung’s eyes squeezed closed.
“Full…S’full.” You groaned.
“Stuffed full of cock.” Seungmin admired.
The other men had gathered around and watched in awe as they watched your pussy being fucked by two cocks at once. Chan continued to hold your legs up out of the way while he fucked you from below. Han leaned over you as he snapped his hips as vigorously as your cunt would allow.
‘’Open.” demanded jisung. You opened your mouth for him and he spat into it before crashing his mouth onto yours. Apparently ghosts don’t ejaculate, but oddly enough they have saliva.
“This what you wanted, babygirl?” Chan nibbled your neck. You answered with a whimper.
“You love being stretched like this. Filled so deep with cock?” Jisung said, panting. “You don’t have to say anything. We already know. We know how after this you want us to all take turns double penetrating you.”
You moaned in agreement.
“One in the pussy…one in the ass. Or two in your tight cunt like right now.” Jisung pressed his mouth against your ear. “Maybe even two in the ass?” he whispered. “Maybe we should get everyone to pair up ready?”
You yelped, and clenched tighter around the two men.
“She likes that idea.” Chan chuckled.
“Well it’s her idea, remember? We’re the sex slaves.” Jisung grunted as he pushed in as deep as possible.
“Good thing our erections last so long. Our pretty Babygirl is so needy. Lucky we're here to take care of her.”
Your body felt floppy, like they could bend you and stretch you however they wanted, and your body would accommodate. All of your attention was focused on the sensation in your core. You felt so full. Their cocks reaching deep inside you. What state would it be in when they’re finished? You didn’t care because after this you wanted them to do it all again.
Jisung changed his angle to concentrate on your g-spot, causing your body to start shaking. It was simultaneously too much and not enough. You were a helpless, sobbing mess, needing to come, but not wanting to yet.
Minho and Felix moved closer, one on either side of you, and took hold of your trembling legs, freeing up Chan’s hands.
Subconsciously, your hands found their cocks and you started to jerk them off.
“You gonna come with us, babygirl? I can feel you’re so close.” Chan encouraged as he wrapped a hand around your neck to choke you.
Jisung sat back on his knees and began to rub your clit as he and Chan continued to abuse your pussy with hard, relentless thrusts.
You threw your head back, wanting to cry out, but with Chan’s hand squeezing you, it turned into a gurgling sound. Hands groped at your tits, most likely Minho and Felix while they held your legs. You felt the tip of a cock on your cheek, and Chan turned your head so you could open up for Changbin.
You couldn’t hold on any longer.
“That’s it, babygirl… let go.” Chan whispered.
“Come for us.” Hyunjin said. Words of encouragement resonated around the room.
The tension inside you snapped, setting off your orgasm. Your cunt clamped down, causing Chan and Jisung to come too, moaning and cursing under their breaths. The force of both of their cold energies extended your orgasm, thrusting you into a new realm of pleasure. It had you pulsing, squeezing, shaking, and then squirting all over their cocks.
“Fuck, she squirted so much! Like a fucking faucet.” Someone growled.
Changbin came in your mouth, and with Chan still choking you, it heightened the feeling of your orgasm and you squirted a second time.
“Good fucking girl.” Purred Chan as he continued to roll his hips into you.
“She’s the most compatible we’ve ever seen.” Noted Jeongin.
“We’re gonna pull out now, baby.” Jisung stroked your cheek. You grasped his arm and shook your head.
“No! Need more!” You sobbed.
“I thought she was meant to be satisfied by now.” Said Hyunjin, confused.
“It’s like the more we give her, the more she needs.” Observed Felix.
“We have to keep going until she’s satisfied.” Confirmed Minho.
“What a fucking shame.” Sneered Seungmin as he approached the bed and pulled Jisung out of your cunt and lined himself up.
A/n: I have similarly unhinged oneshots and drabbles that you may enjoy on my side blog @daydreams-after-dark .
I’m 97% sure I’m going to deactivate this account in the coming months.
I’m just not feeling it anymore.
It was a wonderful, creative, expressive ride, and the community here has been so supportive.
I really, truly appreciate all the support, ideas, advice along the way. I love you.
I hope that you will understand and support this decision, as I am not making it lightly. I have a lot of wonderful and difficult things going on, and I’m ready to embrace those wholeheartedly.
I still love skz, and the gorgeous and dorky Han. I haven’t left the fandom.
I wish all you gorgeous friends the best in your writing, reading, concert going, and in life in general.
18+ he fucks a magic sex toy. one that connects him to you.
He almost misses it when it arrives. It comes in a small, inconspicuous package, designed to be ignored. The delivery driver had done almost too good a job at keeping it out of the sight from opportunistic passersby, adding to the chances of him missing it entirely.
But he doesn’t.
He snatches up the small box and hurries inside, knowing already what it contains.
It hadn't been an impulse purchase. The tab had been bookmarked in his browser for well over a year.
Still, he sits the box down on his desk and eyes it like it might’ve been a mistake.
It feels dirty.
Just looking at the plain brown box has him looking over his shoulder like he might get caught doing something he shouldn’t, despite living alone, and being an adult, and not doing anything wrong in the slightest, he reminds himself.
His fiddles with his box cutter for a minute or so, spinning his desk chair back and forth. Then he drops it on the desk.
Later.
When the sun was gone.
These things were always less shameful in the dark.
Food is a good distraction. He cooks, cleans. He showers. He changes his sheets. He sits on the edge of his bed and stares at the box before he cleans a little more.
Then, when it’s well past ten, and his hair is dry, and the neighbours have stopped stomping around upstairs, he snatches the box cutter off his desk and cleanly slices the package open.
Your ceiling fan rattles a little on the highest speed. It was white noise that normally helped you battle your insomnia. Tonight it was particularly bad.
You throw a leg over your blankets, stuffy and uncomfortable. Tired and restless.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. If you were braver, you wouldn’t be spread across an empty bed, tossing and turning.
If you were braver, you’d be with him.
You weren’t ready.
Not for someone like him.
Not yet.
Your curtains dance in the midnight air. You watch their performance as your eyelids finally grow heavy.
It’s right on the brink of sleep—dreams mixing with reality—when a sudden heat pulses between your thighs.
You jolt, rolling slightly forwards, like it’s something you can escape from.
Not a dream.
As your brain fires back on, the sensation doesn’t stop, or even lessen.
You reach down on instinct, cupping yourself over your underwear, like you might be able to soothe it with some firm pressure.
Rolling into your stomach helps for a moment. It eases.
Then, a flood of cool wetness has you jolting off the bed and collapsing onto the floor.
You know immediately what’s happened.
The feeling is too unnatural to be anything else.
Someone had a bond sex toy, and they were thinking of you. You could block it out. That was always an option, but these toys worked on mutual bonds. There was only one person who could open the connection to you.
He had dribbled cold lube over a toy designed to simulate your cunt, and he was thinking of you while doing it.
You pull yourself up to your knees at the side of the mattress, like a sinner about to pray.
She wouldn’t feel it, he reminds himself.
She’d turned him down. She didn’t feel the same. She’d turn him down again.
But the idea that she might not… she might let him slip inside the slippery, supple toy and feel him like he was right there with her. She might let him feel her—let the toy take her shape and warmth and wrap around him and suck him dry.
And next time he had to face her, he could look in her eyes and know she wanted him.
He plays with the lube a little more, tracing over the toy’s soft, pliable opening with his fingers. He’s sure he can feel a little warmth emanating from the inside. Her warmth.
He stops.
She’d know what was happening. She’d be realising it was him. She’d be deciding whether to stop him.
One finger toys with the entrance, coated in artificial slick. He’d just dip inside. Just to make sure. Then he’d wait. Wait for her answer.
He could stop after that. He’d know the truth and he could stop.
Slowly, he presses inside—silicone lips yielding to his gentle pressure.
Heat.
He holds his breath, waiting for you to release him—to realise he was there and break the connection.
Greed is the word that comes to mind as he considers sinking inside. You would be lying in the dark, alone, knowing he was here with the tip of his finger hesitating at the entrance of your cunt—feeling him there. You knew it and you were letting him.
He knew what he needed to know.
He could stop now.
Continuing would be so, so greedy.
Your walls relax as he presses further inside, like you’re welcoming him in. Like you're making sure he knows he can enter.
He can imagine your eyes closing, your lips parting.
The world might end outside and he’d still be fixated on where his finger sinks into the hot toy. Playing with you like that—with his fingers—is an all-consuming task.
It’s unreal.
The thing twitches and squeezes and wraps around him like it never wants him to leave, and all the while, he knows it’s you… your pussy squeezing and twitching around him. He’s slipping his fingers in and out of your pretty little cunt.
He can almost imagine you trying to keep him inside each time he slips out fully.
He presses and strokes gently along your folds, teasing, hearing your voice in his head, pleading with him to stop.
Toys were meant to be played with.
Were you writhing around in your sheets? Were your hands between your legs, desperately grasping at nothing?
The idea has him bringing it his lips and dropping a single, delicate kiss at your hole.
It’s okay, he says without words. I’ll look after you, sweetheart.
And he means it. Just like he’d meant every word he said to you as he’d confessed. He’d poured himself out and had been left trying to gather himself back up again when you’d turned him away.
You were afraid.
He knew it.
He could wait.
He could enjoy you like this in the meantime.
Soon he’s fucking into the toy with his tongue between kisses, making out with the thing in his hands like it was your mouth. Like he could show you how patient and good he could be for you. He imagines himself above you, pressing you into the mattress, feeling his tongue against yours.
You might squirm and wriggle under him, moan into his mouth.
The toy is glistening with spit by the time he pulls away, like your little pussy would be—quivering from his kisses.
He runs his finger down the seam, entranced.
It lets up just long enough for you to grip the sheets and pull yourself up onto the bed, finally escaping from the cold, hardwood floor.
He’d been relentless; hungry.
You’d grabbed at nothing between your legs, like you could push his head away as he’d laved his tongue up your fluttering cunt.
And still, despite the overstimulation, you hadn’t released the bond.
How could you?
Even now, as you lie flat on your stomach, panting into the pillow, you miss him.
Your phone is only an arm’s length away, you remind yourself.
But then just the thought of it—of hearing his voice—it has you considering cutting off your connection right this second.
It would be too real.
Too close.
You weren’t ready.
You jolt as that feeling returns: something touches you. Something different than before.
It’s thicker, warmer. It slides along you, between your lips. It’s coated in lube, leaving mess in its wake.
Oh.
Your hips rolls into your mattress, like you might be able to encourage him along. Of course, you can’t. Instead, you grind into nothing, unable to increase the pressure or slip him inside yourself. You’re left grasping at the sheets as you let him use you—use the toy.
Then he prods. The fat tip pokes at your throbbing hole like he’s asking to be let in. Over and over and over again, until you’re whimpering into the pillow… sensitive and empty.
You would grab him if you could. Tell him it’s okay. Come inside. You can come inside.
Then it stops.
Just long enough for panic to creep around the edges.
Then, with no warning at all, he’s pressing inside. There’s no hesitating now.
He’s asked. You answered.
Now, he’s taking, using, feeling. He’s filling you. And without thinking, you squeeze—grabbing at him with the only part of you that can.
He’s gasping for air. One hand reaches over his head to press against the wall, bracing.
He thinks of anything but you. Anything to distract from the throbbing heat and tight squeeze and sweet wetness dripping down to his balls.
Still, you show no mercy.
You.
His sweet girl. His. Clinging to his cock with her sweet little pussy, desperate to keep him there.
He can feel it.
She’s asking him to stay. Asking him why he took so long. Begging him not to leave.
It’ll kill him.
This’ll be the first and only time he feels her.
He stares at the ceiling and convinces himself of it.
“Please,” he gasps into the empty room—hips jolting off the bed. “Please, baby.”
Another squeeze.
He tugs the toy free from his twitching cock, knowing he can’t survive it.
One deep breath. Two. Three. Four.
He prods at the entrance again, testing the waters. He should’ve known better than to expect you to be a good girl. So instead, he doesn’t give you a chance to behave.
You’re about to give in. To reach for your phone and beg him with words. You’re about to be brave.
Instead, you cry out, reaching desperately between your legs—overwhelmed. He’s fucking into you at a pace that leaves you separate from your surroundings. In a way only achievable if someone was fucking a toy down their cock over and over and over again, lightweight and small.
You gasp in small breaths, like the wind is being knocked from your lungs.
He’s fucking you. Fucking. There’s no other word for it. Using you to fuck himself.
You can see it. Him leaning back, knees apart, fist clenched around a small, slick toy, imagining it was you.
Was he talking to himself? Talking to you? Was he telling you how nice it felt inside? Was he telling you how good you were for him? You can almost hear it. Hear his voice.
Eventually it slows. Just the tip slips in and out, in and out. Slow and precise. You try and squeeze around him each time, to catch him before he can retreat. Please don’t leave.
Keep me.
Control.
He could make it last.
She hadn’t left him yet.
He could keep her a little longer.
He rolls onto his stomach, keeping the toy between himself and the mattress. He would keep her beneath him if he could, press her down and use his weight make her feel all of him.
That’s how he enters you again.
Slow and with all his weight behind it. He wants her to know. Know he’s thinking of her beneath him.
Does she know how messy he’s being? She must feel it. How much lube he’s lathered over the toy. He has to keep switching hands, wiping them on the sheets so he can keep his grip in all the slick, warm, mess around him.
He’d make her that messy, he decides.
He wants her oiled up and so slippery he can barely keep his grip on her hips as he uses her. As he bounces her in his lap like she was this little toy beneath him.
She squeezes around him tight, like she can hear—like she approves.
“Nice and wet,” he babbles into the mattress. “Just like this.”
She sucks at him, suckles. Mouths at his leaky cock until he floods her full. She doesn’t stop, either. She pulses around him and takes and takes until he’s whimpering and biting the sheets below him.
He lets her.
It’s only fair.
He’s on the brink of tears when finally, finally…. the bond snaps clean.
Released.
He tugs the now lifeless toy from himself quickly, unwilling to let the feeling of it replace the feeling of her.
He has her.
He knows it now.
She’d said yes, and she’d let him inside, and he was never, ever, letting her go.
𝑖𝑛 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑐ℎ. . . you seem to always need help fixing things around your apartment. luckily, your neighbour, hyunjin, has a knack for household repairs. your damn hot and witty handyman-of-a-neighbour who is always there for his doll in distress—even if all she needs is a good dicking down.
𝑃. hwang hyunjin x afab!reader
𝐺. smut, handyman!neighbour!hyunjin
𝑊𝐶. 10.4k
𝐶𝑊. [MDNI] explicit sexual content, softdom!hyunjin, nipple play, oral (f. rec.), pussydrunk!hyunjin, praise, manhandling, breeding kink, dirty talk, petnames (doll, sweetheart, baby), piv sex, unprotected sex (wrap it ! pls !!), creampie, hyunjin is just hot as hell honestly, and has such a dirty mouth gosh. consume responsibly. take care of yourself.
𝑅𝛮. written with afab reader in mind. reader has breasts and a vagina. all characters are consenting and over 18 yo.
۶ৎ 𝑙𝑒𝑒'𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑢𝑑𝑒 ࿐ that workdol episode clearly did a number on me.
THE SINK was your foe, and the plumbing in your building was a joke.
“This is what you called me for?” Hyunjin’s voice filtered through the phone, tinged with an amused disbelief that made it difficult to tell whether he was genuinely concerned or simply entertained by your latest crisis.
You balanced the phone against your shoulder, a damp dish towel in one hand and a half-soaked roll of paper towels in the other, glaring at the mess spreading across your kitchen floor. The sink had been making strange noises for weeks, a low gurgle that seemed harmless enough until it finally turned on you, sending water pooling across the counter with a mocking drip that no amount of frantic plunging could stop. The pipes—the stubborn, stubborn pipes—had defeated every attempt you’d made, leaving you knee-deep in irritation and suds.
“Unless you know a better way to keep my apartment from turning into an indoor pool, yes, this is what I called you for,” you said, trying and failing to keep the exasperation out of your voice. “It’s either you or I start charging admission at the door.”
A low chuckle resonated through the line, warm and infuriatingly self-satisfied. “You know, most people would just call maintenance. That’s literally what they’re paid for.”
“I did call maintenance,” you muttered, squeezing the damp towel until droplets slipped between your fingers. “They said someone could come by next Tuesday. Unless I plan on living off takeout for the next week, that’s not exactly helpful.”
“Ah,” Hyunjin replied, dragging the syllable out with a smugness that made your stomach tighten. “So I’m not just your first call… I’m your only option.”
“You’re the only option that doesn’t involve my entire kitchen rotting.”
He hummed, the sound low and thoughtful, as though he was weighing the gravity of the situation. “I just showered, doll. You trying to get me dirty again?”
Your mouth opened, but words failed to spill out from over your lips. You stood still, pushing at the way his causal tone made your cheeks heat and heart thump, trying to conjure a quip back, or yell at him, perchance.
“I’ll be there in ten minutes. Try not to cry without me.”
The line went dead before the curses you had lined up rolled off your tongue, leaving you alone with the gurgling of the faucet and the uncomfortable quickening of your heartbeat.
Hyunjin had a way of slipping beneath your skin without even trying, weaving himself into moments that should have been mundane and turning them into something you thought about long after they ended. You had lived next door to him for nearly a year, long enough to know he was the sort of neighbour who always seemed to appear when you least expected it—carrying groceries into the elevator at the exact moment you struggled with your own, lounging in his work clothes against the railing of the stairwell when you came home late, dress shirt rumpled and hair in a messy state no amount of intentional styling could replicate. He was helpful in an infuriatingly smug way that made it impossible to thank him without also wanting to throttle him.
And he was handsome, although “handsome” felt like too simple a word for someone who could make you lose track of what you were saying in the middle of a sentence just by pushing his unkempt fringe off his forehead. Hyunjin had a way of existing that demanded your attention; tall and loose-limbed, all lazy grace and deep contours dwindled by the warmth of his stupid grin.
You had told yourself, repeatedly, that this attraction was nothing but a harmless nuisance, an unfortunate side effect of close proximity and his vexing habit of showing up in your space like it belonged to him. You had convinced yourself the butterflies in your stomach were merely a byproduct of his teasing, the kind of thing anyone would feel when faced with a neighbour who always seemed to know how to get under your skin. Yet, every time you caught yourself watching him tighten a screw with those long fingers, or when his voice curled around your name in his low, unhurried drawl, you wondered how much longer you could keep up the act.
A sharp knock at your door jolted you from your thoughts.
When you opened it, Hyunjin leaned against the frame with an infuriating ease, his battered red toolbox hanging from one hand, the other tucked into the pocket of his jeans, a dark wash you had grown accustomed to because these jeans were his handyman jeans—he wore them whenever he came over to help you fix up your kitchen cabinets, or install new tiles on the floor of your bathroom, or screw in a lightbulb you truly could’ve done yourself. The denim was littered with wood dust and gorilla glue and dried paint, tiny rips clawing into the fabric across his knees.
His white t-shirt clung to his arms and chest, and it felt deeply unfair—did he have to be so well sculpted?—and his hair was still damp from his shower, the strands spiking slightly as they dried. A warm, woody scent drifted past you as he stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, leaving you momentarily caught between irritation and the embarrassing awareness of how your heart had quickened.
“Your knight in shining denim,” he announced, setting the toolbox on your counter with a dull clang before towering in front of the sink, his eyes sweeping over the small flood. “Wow. You weren’t kidding. You’ve really outdone yourself this time.”
“I told you it was bad,” you mumbled, crossing your arms.
“You undersold it,” he said, sleeves already shoved up, biceps already pulling the fabric taut as he examined the pipes. “This is a full-scale anarchy.”
You leaned against the counter, trying to bluff indifference even though your eyes travelled with a mind of their own, skimming over the line of his shoulders, the sharp angle of his jaw as he focused. “Do you actually know hwo to fix it, or are you just here to gloat while I drown?”
“Both,” he admitted without looking up, his mouth twitching at the corners. “But don’t worry, I’ve got this. You can trust me.”
The words were casual, tossed out without thought, but the way they landed with unexpected weight, pulling at something in your chest, had forced your gaze to the dripping faucet, to the water-stained towels scattered across the floor, to anything that wasn’t him.
“Tell me how it started,” he said, his words softened by the scrape of metal as he retrieved a wrench from the box, glancing up at you with a calm gaze that had the infuriating ability to both irritate and disarm you at the same time. “Did the water stop draining all at once, or has it been slow for a while?”
You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, shifting your weight against the counter, carefully positioning yourself far enough from the watery mess that you refused to step into it again, though you knew he would never let it touch you even if it spread.
“It was gurgling for days, but I thought it would work itself out. Tonight, though, I washed a pan and suddenly the whole thing just… rebelled.” Hyunjin snorted. You continued, “I tried the plunger, I tried pouring boiling water, I even tried vinegar and baking soda. Nothing worked.”
Hyunjin shook his head, his damp strands of hair falling forward until he brushed them back with his wrist, leaving a subtle streak of water against his temple that gleamed in the dim kitchen light. “You’re lucky it didn’t explode on you. Pipes don’t like being ignored, sweetheart.”
Your heart tripped at the word, though you masked it with a curt roll of your eyes. “You say that like I had any other choice.”
“You had one.” He turned back to the pipes, his voice rich with a smugness that fizzled beneath your skin. “Calling me before it turned into a flood.”
The wrench twisted in his grip, veins straining against the skin of his forearm, his long fingers gripping deftly as he loosened one of the joints. A thin stream of water spat out at him, splattering across his shirt and streaking down the column of his throat, catching the faint sheen of sweat already gathering along his skin. He didn’t flinch, only muttered something under his breath as he reached for a rag and wiped his hands, the damp cotton of his t-shirt sticking more closely to his chest with each movement.
That damn white t-shirt. He knew what he was doing wearing a white t-shirt to a job involving water.
You tried not to stare, but when you catch the way his chest looks under the wet ghost-like fabric, your eyes started dragging down the lines of his body, tracing the subtle dip of muscle beneath the shirt, the stretch of denim housing dampened splotches across his thighs where he balanced on his heels.
“Stop hovering,” he quipped tauntingly, breaking your trance. “You’re making me nervous.”
“You’re not nervous,” you replied too quickly, the flush creeping up your neck exposing you far more than your voice did.
A slow grin spread across his face, but his eyes stayed fixed on the pipes. “You’re right. I’m not.”
The water hissed as he twisted another piece free, the sound filling the silence between you, punctuated only by the occasional clink of metal against tile. You stood with your arms crossed, feigning indifference even as your stomach fluttered, his voice threading through the space with an easy confidence making you want to lean closer just to hear more.
“Honestly,” Hyunjin continued, “you’re lucky I like you. Anyone else, I’d have told them to call a plumber and left them to figure it out. But you–” He finally looked up, his canines cutting sharp against the dim light. “You get VIP treatment.”
Your throat went dry, though you managed to roll your eyes, clinging to the veneer of irritation that had always been your armor with him. “VIP? Do you mean free labor?”
“Free for now,” he corrected, tightening one final joint before leaning back to test the faucet. The water sputtered, then flowed smoothly sans restraint, the pool in the sink beginning to drain away in a whirl. He wiped his hands on the rag and pushed himself to his feet, his height crowding the space between you as he leaned close enough for you to catch the scent of his woody cologne on his skin again, mingling with the freshness of his shower and, now, the spray of pipe water. “But I’m starting to reconsider my rates.”
You exhaled, both relieved and annoyed, watching the sink clear itself as though he had worked some sort of miracle. “So you’re done? That’s it?”
“That’s it.” He tilted his head, water still dripping from the ends of his hair, sliding down the side of his neck in thin rivulets. “Good as new. No more indoor swimming pool.”
You hesitated, then said, “Well… I suppose I should compensate you somehow.”
A smirk found solace on his lips, entirely too knowing. He took a step closer, dropping his voice just enough to make your pulse stumble.
“You could always offer me a shower.” He let the pause hang and added, “Preferably one I don’t have to take alone. I did get all dirty fixing your sink, after all."
Your lips parted, words failing to stitch along the tip of your tongue as heat surged through your chest, your body discarding the veil you typically hid behind. You tried your very best to hold his gaze, to avoid peeking at the sag of his damp clothes across his chest and torso.
Hyunjin reached for his toolbox, his smirk loitering on his lips like he had said nothing at all out of the ordinary. “Call me if you need anything else,” he said, his tone smoothing back into something deceptively neutral as his lips curved. “And try not to wait until it’s an emergency next time.”
You could get him as wet as you wanted him, thought Hyunjin. And although a shower with you sounded like the epitome of all his wettest dreams (literally!), he really just wanted to take you out to dinner.
Hyunjin thinks he’ll ask you the next time he’s over to help you, his pretty doll.
THE BOOKSHELF was so desperately needed, it was almost incredulous that you hadn’t bought a new one already.
The old one leaned in the corner of your bedroom like a tired old man, its frame straining under the weight of years of collecting, every shelf sagging, buckling under the burden of your affection for the written word. Books were piled not only vertically, but in sideways towers that grew dangerously tall, forming stacks on your bedside table and even finding refuge on the floor. There were just too many, some that had been well-cherished, others you hadn't even gotten a chance to indulge in yet.
You had laughed the first time you found yourself stepping over novels on the way to bed, but last weekend, when one had tipped over and startled you awake with a sharp thud against the hardwood, you had sworn it was finally time.
The new bookshelf arrived that morning in a flat pack box, heavy with wooden panels and plastic-wrapped screws and a thick manual with all the information you needed to get it set up. You could have assembled it yourself, but the thought of untangling the fat manual with its poorly written instructions, tiny print and all, made you groan.
And, truthfully, when you had Hyunjin—a neighbor who had become both your rescuer and tormentor, a man whose hands could fix just about anything—why would you deny yourself the pleasure of watching him work?
He knocked at your door just after six, right on the heels of his workday. You opened it to find him in a pressed white shirt, the sleeves pushed up hastily to his elbows, his tie tugged loose as if he had only just pulled it free on the walk over. The slacks he wore hung perfectly, his hair a little mussed from his hand raking through it, strands falling his forehead before he brushed them away absentmindedly.
There was something wildly attractive about the juxtaposition of him in work attire holding a toolbox, his frame filling your doorway and lips surrendering as the home to a lazy smirk.
“You didn’t even change?” you questioned, stepping back to let him in, though the words came out lighter than you intended, possibly thanks to the sudden upbringing of your pulse.
“You sounded desperate,” he replied, his mouth curving into a knowing grin that made you want to roll your eyes and melt all at once. “Besides, you think I can’t build a bookshelf in slacks?”
“I think you shouldn’t risk ruining them.”
“If I thought I’d ruin them, I would have come in those raggedy jeans you love so much,” he said with a wink, walking over to your bedroom and setting the toolbox down with a thud against the wall. “Tonight, though, you get the deluxe service. Tie and everything.”
You exhaled slowly, half-annoyed by his cockiness and half enlivened by the way the undone buttons of his shirt revealed just enough skin to tempt the imagination. He was unfair in that way, managing to look immaculate while doing something as unglamorous as kneeling on your bedroom floor, sorting wooden panels into organized piles.
The two of you began unpacking the box together. You crouched beside him, pulling out pieces of hardware, the brush of your hand against his every time you handed him a screw or a dowel bolt sending little ripples through your chest. Hyunjin worked calmly, his long fingers moving with practice, his veins flexing subtly under his skin whenever he twisted the screwdriver. He concentrated in bursts, brows pinching together whenever his tools called for focus, then broke the silence with a comment that made you laugh.
“You know,” he said, aligning two boards and tightening a joint, his words laid-back and devoid of any uncertainty in his efforts, “you could have done this yourself if you wanted to. It’s practically foolproof.”
You gave him a pointed look, steadying a side panel he’d asked you to hold. “I could have. But then I’d miss out on your charming company.”
His head tipped to the side, a slow grin spreading across his face, and although he didn’t directly look at you, you caught the glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes. “So you admit it—you just like having me around.”
“I admit nothing,” you countered, ignoring how your heartbeat said otherwise, racing at the proximity of him. He had leaned close to reach for a screw, his chest brushing your shoulder, the fabric of his shirt warm against your skin, his scent wrapping itself around you, still woody, but mixing with his natural musk. He lingered, not inappropriately, but long enough for the moment to feel longer than necessary—not that you were complaining—and your hands wavered on the board you were supposed to be holding still.
Hyunjin smirked, speaking low but teasingly, “Careful. If this collapses on us, I’m blaming your distraction.”
You huffed, shifting your grip along the panel.
The two of you had established a good workflow—him tightening, you holding, passing tools back and forth. Once, you fumbled a screw, and he caught it mid-air, flashing you a grin that made you scoff. Another time, he reached around you to adjust a joint, his arm caging you in without warning, body brushing behind yours and radiating a palpable heat you felt all over your back and arms. His breath ghosted over your temple when he spoke. “That’s it—hold it still. You’re good at this.”
“I’m literally just standing here,” you muttered, but your voice was thin, affected by how his closeness coiled inside you.
“That’s all it takes sometimes,” he said, and whether he meant building or something else entirely, you didn’t dare ask.
By the time the final screw slid into place, the bookshelf stood tall and flawless, a sturdy replacement for the leaning disaster it succeeded. You stood with your hands on your hips, surveying it proudly, Hyunjin’s presence at your side stealing more of your attention than the new piece of furniture did.
“Perfect,” you said, exhaling with satisfaction.
“No shit,” he chortled, brushing his palms off on his slacks. “It was built by a professional.”
“You are not a professional.”
“Not by trade,” he agreed, turning toward you with his deviled smile.
You rolled your eyes, trying to swat away the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “You’ve earned a drink.”
“I won’t argue.”
You led him to the kitchen, where he leaned casually against the counter, peeking at the crevice of the sink he’d fixed just days ago. His tie hung loosely, the unbuttoned collar framing his throat, and you found your eyes drifting there before you forced them away. He touched the faucet lightly, testing it. “Still running smooth? No disasters to report?”
“None.” You pulled open the fridge, sighing at the empty shelf where your favourite bottle of wine usually waited. “Although I did run out of wine.”
He gasped, his voice theatrical. “A tragedy. How do you survive without it?”
“Barely,” you admitted, holding up a bottle of peach juice instead. “This is all I’ve got. I’ve been too tired from work to stop at the store.”
His gaze washed over you as you poured, something soft creeping into his expression beneath the usual teasing glint. He didn’t make any comical remarks about your back-up choice of drink, but rather watched you fill both the glasses in silence.
“You’ve been working too hard.”
You shrugged, handing him a glass. “It’s nothing. Everyone’s tired.”
“You’re not everyone.” His words were quiet, but they landed firmly. For a moment, he didn’t look away, didn’t cloak the care in witty remarks or smirks. Then, as if sensing the air had grown too heavy, he tipped his glass toward you, his lips quirking again. “That’s why I come running, even when all you need me to do is change a lightbulb.” You blush at this and giggle, reminiscing upon the memory. “What’s next? The batteries in your remote?”
You laughed. “Don’t jinx it.”
“Don’t worry,” he mused, setting his empty glass down in the sink he fixed just days ago. “If it does, you’ll call me. I’ll come, just for you.”
Hyunjin did want to come for you.
Or, cum, more specifically. Perhaps he would, after he finally grew the balls to ask you out to dinner, since there were clearly none between his legs given his lack of proactivity.
YOU were surprised to find Hyunjin outside your apartment door in his tattered handyman jeans, holding his trusty red toolbox in his right hand, a brown bag scrunched around the neck of a bottle in his left. His hair was disheveled, strands spiking out in random, and he wore a black t-shirt that stretched over his shoulders and chest. You hadn’t called him, yet there he was, leaning against—
“The doorframe?”
He nodded, shifting the weight of the toolbox against his thigh, his eyes running down the line of your satin dress with such intent focus, you felt your breath lodge in your throat. “Yeah, I noticed it when I came over to put up your bookshelf,” he began casually. His gaze dragged up again, loitering across the neckline of your dress, “I didn’t know you’d be going out, though.”
The words carried a neutrality, but you knew him well enough to hear the subtle edge thumbing beneath them. The thought of you dressed up for someone else unsettled him.
“It’s nothing,” you said quickly, brushing your hands over the fabric, smoothing it out along your hips. “Just a work dinner. A little celebration with my team.”
Hyunjin’s shoulders drew down very subtly, his fingers flexing around the handle of his toolbox. “A work dinner,” he repeated, solidifying it in his mind. He gave a few slow nods before his chin tipped toward the brown bag in his other hand, a playful spark resurfacing in his eyes.
“What’s in there?” you asked, nodding at it.
“Your favourite,” he replied simply, lifting the bag just enough for the neck of the bottle to peek out. “I picked it up on my way home from work yesterday. I figured you’d eventually run out of excuses not to let me drink it with you, peach juice could only redeem me so much.” He smirked crookedly, his mischievous glimmering eyes crinkling into a squint.
The thought of him walking past the shop, remembering the name of the exact wine you’d offhandedly mentioned, and buying it without knowing when he’d even give it to you, sent your stomach tumbling. “You remembered?”
His smirk softened. “Of course I did.”
The corners of your mouth tugged upward, a warmth blossoming in your chest that you thought best to ignore. “You really didn’t have to.”
“Maybe not,” he said with a shrug, “but I wanted to.”
The honesty in his tone was disarming, and before you could let it mess with your mind, you stepped aside, gesturing him in. “Come on. You’re already here.”
He hesitated just enough to look at your dress again, his mouth pressing into a line that tried to be light but did nil to hide his interest. “I don’t want you to be late, though. If this takes too long–”
“It won’t,” you interrupted, a lilt in your voice. “Besides, I’d rather spend my time with you than my crew at work.”
His eyebrows rose, lips parting as if to confirm whether you meant it, but a determined glint overcame the look in his eyes, as though he’d taken your words as a challenge. “In that case,” he said, stepping inside with exaggerated seriousness, “this doorframe is about to receive the most meticulous repair of my career.”
You laughed, shaking your head as you returned to the vanity in your bedroom, sliding into the seat you’d abandoned in your rush to answer the door.
The mirror reflected the sight of Hyunjin setting the bottle on your kitchen counter, returning to place his toolbox on your bedroom floor, and stretching his arms up to push at the panel lifting off the jamb of your doorframe, doing his own mister fix it investigation. He leans down into his open toolbox, hands getting busy pulling out screws and the drill.
The panel itself wasn’t much—it was just a strip of wood peeling away from where it had once been flush—but Hyunjin treated it as though it were the most intricate repair he’d ever been asked to do. Every whir of his drill was unhurried, every lift of a screw rid of haste. He had decided keeping himself perched in your door was preferable to letting you walk out of it.
He drilled in the first screw, the sound sharp in the air, his arm flexing with each turn of the tool. You caught his reflection in the mirror, the way the veins colonized his forearm and swelled with the effort, the subtle stretch of his shirt over the top of his back when he pushed and drilled at the panel. He paused between each screw, peeking over at you as though to check your progress, though the look in his eyes mused over you longer than necessary.
What should have been a five-minute fix stretched languidly, his movements akin to a tortoise. He measured twice before driving in a screw, wiped his hands on his thighs even though they weren’t dirty, and spent a long time running his fingers along the wooden frame as if searching for invisible imperfections.
You pressed a brush to your cheekbones, pretending not to notice, but your heart had long deceived you, thudding rampantly against the confines of your ribs. His shirt had ridden up slightly when he had to stretch further up to reach the end of the panel—his height could only do so much for him. The lack of fabric revealed the sharp cut of his waist, the shadow of his v-line dipping into the waistband of his boxers. You bit down gently on your lip, sliding gloss across it and pretending your sudden distraction was entirely the fault of your reflection.
Hyunjin shifted again, kneeling lower, one hand braced against the frame while the other steadied the drill. His head tipped just enough for his hair to fall into his eyes, and he blew it away with a quick puff of air, his lips parting, the softest bite against the bottom one when the screw met more resistance than he’d expected.
“You’re awfully quiet over there,” he said suddenly, in a low voice that travelled easily in the few feet separating you.
“I’m trying not to distract you,” you consoled, your cheeks warming as you spoke.
He glanced up at you through your vanity mirror from his crouch, the corner of his lips quirking, his gaze so direct it sent an icy bullet up your spine. “Too late for that.”
You exhaled slowly, feigning nonchalance as you twirled an absentminded finger through the ends of your hair. Still, you couldn’t help sneaking glances, at the flex of his biceps when he leaned into the drill, at the way his jeans sagged just enough for the band of his boxers to peek through, at the lines of muscle carved into him even in the simplest of motions.
The panel should have been fixed in five minutes flat.
So why was it that twenty had passed, and he was still crouched there, examining his work, adjusting, pausing to wipe his palm against his denim-clad thigh, taking every opportunity to look up at you in the mirror?
With one last turn of the drill, he leaned back on his heels, wiping a speck of dust from his forearm with the back of his hand.
“There,” he said, his voice casual, though the smug curve at the corners of his lips told you he was proud of his unnecessary patience. “Door closes smooth as butter now.”
You twisted in your seat, eyeing him where he knelt on the floor, sweat beading faintly along his temple. “You made that take three times longer than it should have.”
He shrugged, setting the drill back in the toolbox, the muscles in his arm flexing with the movement. “Maybe I just like fixing things for you.”
The words landed heavy in your chest and echoed in your head longer than they should have, and you found your throat tightening because you weren’t sure how to respond.
With Hyunjin on your bedroom floor, his back pressed against the wall just beside the mended doorframe, the sight of him danced in your vision longer than it should have. The shadows of evening and dim light threw half of his face in a mellow shade. The sheen of sweat gathered along his temples caught the last strands of light, giving him a glow one only ever noticed when they were already looking too closely.
He sat with his legs stretched, denim tugged taut along his thighs, and even though he’d finished fixing what he came to mend, his body still held the languid tautness of a man in the midst of work, chest rising with each deep breath, fingers twitching as if reluctant to stash his tools away.
You hesitated only a moment before speaking. “We should open the wine,” you kept your voice casual through your shallow breaths, smiling through a raging heart, “it would be a waste if I drank it alone, and after all your effort today, you deserve it more than anyone.”
His mouth quirked, the curl of amusement playing at the commissures of his lips, but his eyes softened when they met yours. “You sure about that?” His voice was smooth, teasing. He knew you would never say no, but he wanted to hear you insist anyway.
“I’m sure,” you replied, pushing yourself to your feet, walking across your room, stepping over his long limbs stretched out in front of the door, and moving toward the kitchen, acutely aware of his gaze trailing behind you. It was almost too much, the weight of it pressing against your back as you retrieved the bottle, found two glasses, and returned to the room where he remained on the floor, waiting quietly with patience and two twinkling eyes.
You sank down beside him, close enough that your bare knees brushed against the denim stretched over his thighs. The cork slid free with a soft pop, the sound strangely intimate in the otherwise quiet room, and you poured the wine carefully into each glass, the liquid catching a blush of red as it swirled. When you offered his glass forward, his fingers grazed yours in the exchange, resting in their lingering, and the simple touch made your stomach clench far tighter than it had any right to.
He lifted his glass, eyes never leaving yours. “Cheers, doll,” he said, the nickname slipping off his tongue with ease, the way it always had, and when the glasses clinked, the sound seemed more stark than it should have, echoing in the space between you.
The first sip was warm, rich, and melted along your tongue. He leaned his head back against the wall, glancing at you sidelong with a smug, careless expression doing little to hide the intent in his pupils. “You’re not going to be late to that dinner of yours?”
You shook your head, swirling the wine in your glass, watching the surface slant before peeking at him again. “I wasn’t really looking forward to going. Honestly, I’d much rather stay here.”
Something flickered in his expression, a spark he smothered quickly under a chuckle. “What were you celebrating, anyway? Must’ve been something big if it meant dragging you out of the apartment in a dress that–” his eyes dropped briefly, unapologetically, before rising to meet yours again, “–looks like it was tailored onto you.”
You smiled, suppressing a scoff. “It was just a deal we signed with another company. Nothing I was strictly required to attend.”
“So you g’na tell them you were sick?” His lips curled around the words.
“I could,” you admitted, tilting your head, “and I probably will.”
The sound of his laugh rumbled in his chest. He turned his glass in his hands before taking another sip, then leaned his head back again, exhaling through his nose. “Shame for them, though,” he murmured, grinning, “they won’t get to see my doll all dolled up.”
Your breath caught, but you narrowed your eyes and matched his tone easily. “That’s fine. At least you got to see me.”
His grin dampened on his lips but not in his eyes. He paused, a flash of surprise quickly hidden, his jaw clenching briefly before he looked away, taking his time with his next sip. “Dangerous thing to say to me,” he said. He spoke in a mellow tone, even through the grit of his loitering wit.
You smirked into your glass. “You’ll live.”
His eyes snapped back to yours, and the air between you stilled almost imperceptibly. “You’re trouble,” he muttered, his gaze flicking down to your lips before returning to your eyes, “and you don’t even try to hide it.”
“You’re still here, so it doesn’t seem like you mind,” you countered, lifting an eyebrow.
His grin returned lazily. “I don’t,” he admitted, almost thoughtful, before his lips tugged further. “When it’s you, I think I like trouble.”
The words sank into you faster than the wine. For a heartbeat, you forgot how to breathe, your pulse tripping unevenly, and it felt as if your body didn’t quite know what to do with the sudden weight of his admission, playful though it was. You shifted slightly where you sat, the hem of your dress brushing against your thighs, and you tried to focus on the swirl of red at the bottom of your glass rather than the man watching you so intently beside you.
Perhaps it was the gentle buzz of alcohol, but you found yourself speaking before you could stop yourself.
“You know,” you said quietly, softer than your usual banter, “I really am grateful. For everything you do for me. You don’t have to, but you still always show up.”
He tilted his head, his lashes lowering as though he was trying to decide whether to make light of it, but you didn’t give him the chance. You placed your now-empty glass down on the floor on the other side of you, reached out, and let your fingers graze the ends of the hair at the nape of his neck.
The touch was simple, almost innocent, but the effect was anything but. His breath caught in the most imperceptible of ways, throat bobbing as he swallowed, and though he tried to mask the sudden tension in his body, you felt it waver under your hand.
“I feel like I should pay you somehow,” you added, fingertips skimming from the ends of his hair to the warm skin just at the base of his neck.
Hyunjin stilled, the glass halfway lifted to his lips before he finally tipped it back, draining the last sip as if it were needed armor. When he lowered it, his voice was firm. “I don’t want anything from you.”
“That's not fair–”
“No.”
“But–”
“No.”
Your hand might have retreated if not for the way he leaned into it, surrendering himself into your touch as though he’d been waiting for it all along. The strength of him, the sharpness of his jaw, the unruly softness of his hair between your fingers—it all came together with a kind of inevitability that made your chest ache in built-up anticipation. Encouraged, you threaded your fingers deeper into the strands, scratching your nails lightly at his scalp.
He closed his eyes briefly, his mouth parting, and when he opened them again, his pupils were wide, swallowing the warm brown into a dark chocolate. He looked at you with awe, as if the mere weight of your hand in his hair was liberating him, his lips tugging faintly between his usual grin and something far more vulnerable.
The silence sprawled on, until his voice broke it with a confession so plain, so unguarded, it sent a shock straight through you.
“Haven’t you ever considered that maybe I just want you?”
Your fingers froze mid-scratch. The words landed with the force of a blow, leaving your face blank as you scrambled to compose your inner self, to not let him see the way your chest had tightened or the way your breath had retreated from its post.
Hyunjin opened his mouth to add more, but you didn’t give him the chance.
For a fleeting second, he thought you might laugh, or scoff, or even slap him, the flash of your eyes unreadable, but when you leaned in, his breath left no room for comprehension as your lips molded upon his.
He carefully placed his emptied glass down beside him—he almost would’ve let it slip from his fingers from how off-guard you had caught him with your lips, but he wasn’t going to ruin your pretty drinkware. His hands immediately sought you, almost desperately, one sliding beneath the soft fabric of your dress to cup your thigh, the other reaching for your waist to drag you closer to him.
His biceps bulged when he shifted you over his lap, your dress slipping against the denim stretched over his thighs as you settled onto him in a straddle. He groaned into your mouth, the sound vibrating against your lips.
You hummed in response, your lips moving hungrily against his, and he matched you without hesitation, kissing you with eyebrows pinched painfully together. One calloused palm rubbed up your side to your back, rough fingers leaving trails of fire as he found the back of your neck, threading through your hair, urging you closer until there was no space left to close.
This should feel absurd, kissing your neighbour, your own personal handyman, but it was exhilarating. You had no idea just how bad you had wanted him—how bad your body longed for him—until your lips slotted against each other and hands gripped each other, whatever they could touch and hold.
You were soft, warm, intoxicating, and he wanted all of you, every inch and sound and breath. He pulled you flush against him, his other hand tightening at your waist until your chest pressed against his and—fuck, you’re not wearing a bra?
You shivered and broke the kiss to moan against his lips. He was hard beneath you, there was no mistaking it, the rough denim straining as he pulled you down onto him, greedy for the heat radiating through the thin barrier of your dress. The pressure made you arch and bite back a cry, his groan rumbling into your mouth as if the very sound was welded to your pulse.
His hands dragged you closer, sliding up from your waist until his palms cupped your breasts, squeezing them with a hunger that made your blood beat harder. The fabric of your dress was ruffled now, bunched beneath his fingers, and the lack of a bra—a reckless decision you had barely thought about—was driving him mad. His thumb pressed over your nipple through the cloth, and the sharp friction made your lips part with a gasp he swallowed, his tongue catching yours in a kiss both messy and deliberate.
He pulled back suddenly, lips glistening and breathing deeper. “Do you have any idea,” he murmured against your cheek, “what you’ve been doing to me all this time?”
The words made you shiver again, though he didn’t wait for your answer. His mouth found your neck, wet and hot, kissing, sucking, biting in quick succession as if he couldn’t decide which sensation he wanted you to suffer through more. Your head tipped back, helpless, giving him room, and the moan that spilled out was involuntary, humiliating in its rawness.
Your fingers threaded into his hair without thought, tugging lightly, guiding him, but he hardly needed encouragement. He licked a slow path down your throat to the swell of your breasts, pausing only to drag his teeth along your collarbone in a mark you already knew would bloom later. You felt his smirk against your skin as if he was entirely aware of the claim he was leaving behind.
Your dress slipped lower with each kiss until his mouth pressed over your breast, heat seeping through the thin fabric, his tongue circling your nipple until it peaked against the damp spot his lips left behind. You whimpered, tightening your hold on his hair as he drew you deeper into his mouth, sucking hard enough that your back arched further into him.
Your body had utterly surrendered to his touch. You were putty in his arms, his big, bulging arms that caged you to his front so perfectly. His big arms that had you wondering whether he’d lift and toss you on the bed, manhandling you into whatever position his dick was yearning for.
Hyunjin groaned in frustration because it wasn’t enough. The friction was mocking him rather than giving him what he wanted. He writhed in discontent beneath you, jerking up his hips, and the pressure of his cock through his jeans against your core made you cry out, rolling your hips down in response.
“Fuck,” he groaned, the sound ripped from his chest. His eyes peered up at you from where his mouth was still latched to your breast, pupils blown wide, gleaming with unrestraint. His grip on you tightened, fingers dipping into your spine as though daring you to move again.
You did. You slowly rocked your hips, dragging your core from the base of his denim-covered cock to the tip, feeling how hard he was even through layers of fabric. His entire body shuddered, his groan breaking into something darker, almost pained, and you knew you had undone him.
“Do you have any idea how long you’ve had me bricked up?” he muttered, smirking at his own confession and pulling away from your chest only long enough to speak before biting lightly over the other breast, sucking your nipple through the dress until you swore your body would combust.
Your head spun, blood beating rampantly in your veins, and still he wasn’t satisfied. He pulled away entirely, panting, hair messy from your fists in it, and peeked at the floor beneath you with contempt. “Not here,” he murmured hoarsely, “I– shit, can’t have you how I want here.”
Before you could process, his arms were wrapping around you, strong and determined, lifting you up with him. Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, your breath hitching at the sheer effortlessness of it, at the sensation of his cock pressing directly against your core in the new position. He grinned at your reaction, lips brushing yours in a kiss too brief and taunting.
He dropped you onto the mattress with a carelessness that was not cruel but desperate, his body already covering yours before you had time to adjust. His mouth returned to yours in a kiss that tasted of urgency and hunger, his hands sliding up your thighs, over your hips, until they cupped your breasts again, as though he couldn’t bear to let go of them for even a moment.
Your dress was pulled higher, your thighs bare to the cool air of the room, and his hips pressed down, denim rough against your soaked core. He rolled into you once, then over and over, his teeth sucking at your bottom lip as he groaned into your mouth and cursed softly against your neck, every sound from him making you ache from exactly where he needed you.
His restraint was fraying, you could feel it in the tremor of his hands and desperate way he pressed his hips harder against you. Yet, even now, he took his time, his tongue circling, teasing, claiming, leaving you on the verge of begging. And still, all you could do was hold him closer, your fists tangled in his hair, eyelashes fluttering, body arching into every touch, every kiss, every grind of his hips that promised more than either of you could stand to wait for.
“Hyunjin–”
“Yeah?” he answered back, breathing heavily and pressing his forehead to yours.
You whined, tugging at his t-shirt.
Hyunjin let out a ragged breath, his chest heaving. “Ah, shit.” He reeled back from you, his hair mussed, lips kiss-bruised, eyes dark and wild, and tried to ignore the way his cock jerked at the sight of you sprawled on the bed, your dress sliding dangerously low over your shoulders.
His fingers gripped the back collar of his shirt, tugging it over his head in one smooth pull that left his torso bare, lean muscle stretching and flexing in a way that made your thighs squeeze together without you meaning to. Your legs felt weak just looking at him, your stomach flipping with every inch of golden skin he revealed. His jeans hung low, riding down his hips, boxers peeking just enough to tease before he shoved both down in one go.
His cock sprang free, flushed and hard and glistening along the tip, thick veins straining, the sheer sight of it enough to send heat pooling at your core. Hyunjin caught your eyes flickering down, and his tongue darted across his lips—he knew exactly what the sight did to you.
“Fuck,” he muttered, more to himself than you, his voice husky from having been slotting his tongue against yours not too long ago, before he leaned forward again and hooked his fingers under the straps of your dress, sliding it down your body.
He tried not to show how his cock twitched at the sight of your breasts bared, but the sharp exhale that escaped him had braced all the hot pressure that was building at the pit of his stomach. He didn’t dawdle, tugging the dress away until you lay there in nothing but your panties, blushed and messy-haired, your pouty lips parted to let the quick string of breaths out from the confines beneath your heaving breasts.
Hyunjin froze for a moment, swallowing hard, eyes roving over you and trying to control the way the sight was making him almost feral. His chest rose and fell like he was composing himself, but it was already useless; he was wrecked beyond repair.
“You don’t even know,” he whispered, leaning down again, brushing his lips across yours in a kiss that was soft despite the frantic hunger of moments before. His hand slid across your stomach, fingers toying with the waistband of your panties, tracing the elastic. “Tell me what you want.”
You writhed, clutching at his broad shoulders. “Anything, Hyunjin– just anything. I’m so wet for you, I can’t–”
His forehead dropped to your shoulder, and he let out a broken, desperate groan, the sound so raw it nearly had you cumming right then and there.
“Fuck, don’t say that,” He whispered, his hand slid down further, the pads of his fingers pressing against the soaked cotton of your panties. He felt the damp heat immediately and nearly lost it.
But he had lost it.
He had. He was so far gone, so taken by you, he was convinced the night would never end and he’d have you like this until time fizzled into oblivion.
His voice cracked when he spoke again. “Shit, you’re– soaked.” He breathed slowly for a few beats. “You know how many times I’ve thought about you like this? And now…” His sentence dissolved into another curse, whispered into your skin.
You whimpered against his temple, the ends of his hair tickling your cheek, squirming your hips against his palm. “Take it off, Hyune.”
He wastes no time hooking his fingers into the waistband of your soaked panties, tugging slowly, dragging them down your legs until it was discarded ball of fabric with a wet splotch, leaving you utterly naked before him.
The sight confiscated the air from his lungs. His cock throbbed so fucking hard at the vision of your slick pooling between your thighs, proof of just how badly you wanted him too, and his jaw clenched as though the sheer need pained him.
“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, rubbing his lips along your knee, your inner thigh. God, he’d thought of you like this so many times. He’d thought of you, his pretty neighbour, his doll in distress, sprawled atop the sheets of a bed, legs spread for no one but him, your core slick-sheened and dampening the sheets for no one but him.
When he sank between your legs and pulled your thighs over his shoulders, the scent of your arousal hit him so hard, he nearly whimpered and salivated like a Pavlovian dog, dragging in a breath through his nose as if your heady scent was the only oxygen he’d need for the rest of his damned life.
“Need’a taste you,” he mumbled, lips fluttering over your folds and making you squirm at the lack of contact.
“Jinnie,” you whimpered.
And whimpered once again, after you felt the chaste kiss he gifted your clit.
“Taste so google, doll,” he panted between licks, his voice shaking. “Do you know how many nights I’ve fucked my fist thinking about sucking on this pretty cunt? About making you feel good, hearing you moan for me?” His words spilled hotly, desperate—the wit had left him. “I’d do anything for this, anything for you. Just let me make you come on my tongue.”
Hyunjin’s mouth moved with a hunger that was nothing short of feral, his lips sealing against you in a messy kiss that had your thighs trembling against his shoulders. He licked at your folds, sliding his tongue between them, tasting you with greed, tongue dipping and circling before laving flat against your nub, doing everything to draw little gasps from your lips because they kept pushing him further.
The only sounds filling your room were your whines and whimpers, Hyunjin’s groans muffled in your heat, and the wet, slick squelches of his tongue burning itself in you, his lips sealing over your bud and sucking, the kisses and licks he gave your clit.
“God, you’re unreal,” he muttered, dragging his tongue over you again before sucking hard at your clit, his cheeks hollowing with the effort.
Your fingers threaded into his hair, gripping onto his messy strands when his tongue pressed firmer. The sound that tore from his chest was a groan-turned-whine, his hips rutting into the bed as if even the friction of his cock against the duvet wasn’t enough. He ground himself down again and again, his cock leaking against the fabric.
One long finger flit against your entrance, sliding in easily through the slick mess he had already made of you. You clenched helplessly around him, and he moaned so loudly it almost startled you, pulling away from your clit to mutter against your skin. “Tight– fuck, you’re so tight around my finger, I might– aah, I might cum before I even get inside you.”
He kissed your thigh, nipped at it, then sucked at your clit again, his finger curling deep inside until you were gasping.
“Hyunjin–”
“Yeah, baby, I’ve got you,” he said quickly, voice rough, before sucking harder, the obscene sounds of his mouth slurping at you filling the room. His hips rutted down against the sheets in frantic rhythm with his tongue, his need consuming him whole.
He slid in another finger, stretching you, filling you, working them both in time with his mouth until you were writhing, grinding up into his face and messing his hair with your fists.
“N-nngh—Hyune, need you.”
“Yeah? Need me?” He smirked against you. “You need me?”
When he looked up at you, he thought he might cum from the sight alone.
You’re panting, breasts heaving with each breath that escapes you. Your lips are glazed over and still puffy from your makeout. Your eyebrows are knotted together, cheeks flushed, temples sheening with sweat, and your eyes—gosh, your angel eyes are so, so fucked-out.
“What do you need, baby?” he taunted, finger pushing at the gummy end of your hole, making you roll your hips and give him a desperate look.
“Need you inside,” you whined.
Hyunjin’s smirk widened, his fingers still relentless inside your walls. “Hmm, I think you’ll need to be a little more specific, doll.”
You whimpered a bratty hmph, scrunching your eyebrows together and rolling your head back before you peered down at him again.
He gazed at you, amused, fingers pumping. His thumb came up to rub at your clit just to tease you a little more. When you didn't say anything, he raised his eyebrows, and you mewled in defeat.
“I– fuck, Hyunjin, put your dick in me. Fuck me, please.”
Hyunjin ripped his fingers from your core, grabbed your hips, and flipped you onto your stomach, pulling at your hips until they lifted over the edge of your bed and your toes pressed into the floor.
His thumbs slid up the insides of your thighs and pulled at the glistening lips surrounding your cunt.
“Fuck, you’re a mess,” he marveled, voice shaking, catching some of your slick on his thumb and dragging it over the swollen tip of his cock. He smeared it over himself with a hiss through his teeth, gaping at the way it shined along his length. “So pretty like this, bent over for me, soaked for me.”
He hoisted your hips further up when you arched back into him with a moan. You rolled your hips in his hands and peeked back at him over your shoulder.
“Fuck me hard, Jinnie.”
He snapped his eyes to yours, his chest heaving, his tongue darting out to wet his slick-coated lips, trying his best not to cum at the sound of those words in your voice.
“Say it again.”
“Fuck me, Hyunjin.”
“Again.”
“Fuck me, please. Fuck me so hard, Jinnie, I’ll–”
Hyunjin slammed into you, cutting your words short. Your mouth hung open in a broken moan, and your cheek fell against the sheets of your bed. It mattered not whether your makeup smudged along the comforter. In fact, nothing mattered, apart from the hard, veiny drag of Hyunjin’s cock along your tight, hot walls.
“Mmm, shit,” he choked out. “Fucking tight– God.”
It took everything in Hyunjin to pull out, watching his cock glisten with your wetness, before rutting back into you harder, rubbing at your hip with one hand while sliding the other down your back to grip your waist.
He thrusted in and out of you, his cock squelching along your wet walls. Little gasps and whimpers slipped from your lips and buried into the sheets, his groans filling the room with each drag of his cock.
The hand on your waist slid up your back, his fingers running through your hair before he leaned down, chest flush to your spine, and kissed along your neck, wet open-mouthed kisses smearing heat into your skin. The grip on your waist never dimmed in strength, pulling you back into each thrust, rutting harder, deeper, until you were squirming beneath him
“How long have you wanted this?” He mumbled into your neck, thrusting deep into you and clasping his fingers along the base of your skull. “Is this why you kept calling me over, hm? Wanted to see what I looked like all hot and sweaty for you, yeah?”
You whined and jerked your hips back into him, nodding pathetically with the will of half your mind—the other half had long been sucked out of you.
He rubbed the nape of your neck with so much delicacy it was almost a contradiction, at odds with the way his cock kept battering into you with ruthless precision. The hand in your hair snaked along your back, around your torso, sliding up the front of your warm body to grab the base of your neck. He drilled into you again and again, his words dirty against your neck and seemingly never ending.
“Taking me so well, baby, fuck. You’re so good for me, my pretty doll.”
“Feel that? Feel how hard you made me? It’s all for you, just for you.”
“G’na fuck you full with my load. You want that? Want me to fuck a baby in you?”
“Yes, Jinnie—mmph, please,” you whimpered into the sheets at his last words, your reply so fast and frantic it had Hyunjin’s eyes rolling back into his head, his jaw flexing as he groaned.
“Yeah?”
He needed to see you. He needed to see your face, your lips parted in an oh, eyes glazing over with a coat of tears that might spill at any given thrust. He wanted to see what he was doing for you, wanted so desperately—yearned—to watch you beautiful you looking breaking apart under him.
He reeled back from you, slid his hand down your back, and gripped your hips with both hands before pulling out of your cunt with a wet drag and flipping you onto your back again, your body pliant beneath his grip.
He wasted no time filling you full with his cock again, watching your face at the exact moment the head slipped back in, almost shaking at seeing how good it made you feel. Your legs wrapped him closer to you when he leaned down and smashed his lips to yours. He tasted of your arousal and nothing but.
He flattened his hand against your back, curving you into his chest, groaning when your breasts pressed into him, the feeling of your hardened nipples rubbing along his chest making him rut harder. Then, he grabbed onto your hip so he could really start pounding into you.
The squelch of your walls around his pumping cock filled the room, and your little sounds serenaded the fibres in his ears. His hot, open mouth rested against the base of your neck, his wreaked moans sinking into your warm skin. Your hands were in his already unkempt hair, nails digging into his neck and scraping over his upper back.
He snapped his hips, squeezed onto yours, and ground his dick deeper into you. His tip grazed your g-spot, and you clenched around him, trying to keep him in, trying to make him stay there and rut into your spot over and over until you were coming undone for him and only him. You squeezed your legs around him, attempting to bury him further into you.
“Big.”
He looked at you, into your half-open eyes, the way your lips part after weakly moaning out the singular syllable.
“Yeah? It’s big?” He panted, a curl in the corner of his lips, adoration submerging his eyes. You nodded at him, a knot deepening between your eyebrows. “You’re taking it so good, though, baby. Taking me so fucking good.”
His fingers wreathed through your hair, the pad of his thumb is circling over your hip bone, and he mumbled incoherent praises against the supple skin of your neck.
The hand on your hip smoothed over your lower stomach, his palm pressing into it when he pounded into your g-spot again. You whimpered at the friction of his tip against your sweet spot, gripping whatever part of him you could get your hands on—his shoulders, his biceps, anything.
He slid his hand further down, his fingers pushing your swollen clit out from under its hood, and rubbed a languid circle down into your nub.
That was all it took for you to feel the pressure rippling in the core of your being.
“You’re clenching down so hard on me, baby, shit,” he groaned, pulling his head back to watch your face. “You’re cumming? You gonna cream on my dick?”
“Yes—yeah,” you moaned, your eyebrows scrunching tight, staring into his dark, chasmic, heavy-lidded gaze.
“Cum, baby. Cum for me, and I’ll fill you up so good. I’ll fuck my seed so far into you, I promise– shit.”
His words were all it took to have you clenching down onto his dick rhythmically, the pressure exploding in your core and ripping through you until you spasmed against his frame and dug your head back into the pillow.
Hyunjin plastered his forehead along your bare neck when his own orgasm threw him over the edge just after yours, after feeling the way your walls tightly hugged along his length over and over again, abs tightening and spurting his seed deep into you, coating your walls white hot, adhering to the promise he’d made just moments ago. He groaned the most beautiful, broken sound against your skin before his muscles relaxed and he hovered his face above yours, panting heavily against your lips.
You could feel how hot his cum was inside you, how full you were with his seed and slowly softening dick still buried deep inside you, plugging you full with everything he’d given you.
Your breaths leveled out together, Hyunjin giving you the softest kisses as you both calmed down.
Your hands drifted along his bulging biceps that caged you in, along the contours of his shoulders until you had a hand wrapping along his neck, the other pushing at the messied hair that spiked over his forehead.
He gazed at you with the warmest of eyes before a boyish grin lit up his face. You couldn’t help but smile back up at him, still full with his cum and softened dick.
“You should come fix things spontaneously more often,” your voice wisped against his cheeks, so soft and hoarse. He laughed, eyes twinkling, crinkling at the angel beneath him.
“I should keep you from work dinners more often.”
In the comfortable silence that passed with the both of you smiling at each other, Hyunjin decided he was going to stay buried in you like this for the rest of his life. Then, you wouldn’t need him to fix anything ever again. He wouldn't need to show up with his bitchass toolbox and tattered jeans, hoping to see you smile at him, pleased at the work he did for his doll. Although, to his dismay, he knew he couldn’t stay buried in you forever, because—
“Can I take you out to dinner sometime?"
Hyunjin finally grew a pair. He even felt them slap against the backs of your thighs.
Maybe all he needed was to work his doll in a different way.
৬ৎ 𝑙𝑒𝑒'𝑠 𝑝𝘰𝑠𝘵𝑙𝑢𝑑𝑒 ࿐ reblog, comment, slide into my inbox !! please let me how i did, it'll make me happy :D (i have a praise kink)
