i'm vesper, i write for stray kids, ateez, txt and enha ‹33 this blog contains dark and mature content, minors dni ⋆.˚
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a/n: pt ii to this. i guess im going with the moving feat. sex theme right now? i just filled up my car with my stuff and i had to sit down because its fucking HOT outside and then this was born. warnings: gn!reader, car/kind of public sex, smut - minors dni. 1k.
your car is full of boxes and clothes and kitchen appliances that are squished together so tightly that you’re surprised the doors haven’t popped open. moving has been an overwhelming task, but you’re finally on the road towards your new home and you’re excited and nervous and your stomach is full of butterflies from the anxiety.
and also from the way chan is pushing you into the steering wheel as he chases your lips in a kiss too dirty for where you are. the horn blares behind your back for a second and you startle, pushing him back so there is enough space between you and the wheel; you’re already in a public space, and even though it seems empty there’s a possibility that someone could walk by and see you.
the last five minutes feels like it’s passed by in flashes, from parking in the garage at the hotel you’re staying at on your way to your destination to him turning off the ignition and finally landing at you swinging over the middle console to straddle his hips.
the dim lighting from the garage lights makes it hard to see his face, but it doesn’t matter since your eyes flutter closed as his lips travel down your jaw towards your neck. he bites at your skin gently, pressing a fond shaped kiss to the burning spot before he pulls back.
“that eager that you couldn’t wait until we got to our room?” he asks, and you know his ears are burning red even though you can’t see them well.
“check in isn’t for another 15 minutes,” you don’t defend yourself because you kind of are eager, and instead you settle your hips down further into his. “what else are we going to do with that time?”
“i don’t know, wait in the lobby- mmph-“ you cut him off, returning your lips to his and starting a frantic rhythm that threatens to knock you off balance before he wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer into him.
you can feel his smirk against your mouth and you tilt your head just enough to bite at his lower lip, sucking it into your mouth a little too harshly and letting it go with a wet pop. you almost feel guilty when a whine escapes the back of his throat but you stop yourself from saying sorry.
he always prefers his pleasure with a cherry of pain on top, after all.
you reward his good behavior of shutting up and letting you have your ways with him with a slow roll of your hips. you can feel his growing length through his sweatpants between your legs and your body responds in kind, pulsing around nothing as you move.
“fuuuck,” he groans when you start up a steady pattern of movement, throwing his head back and exposing the milky column of his throat. you take his unspoken invitation and mouth at his pulse point, enjoying the way his heart beat jumps every time you grind against him. you’re throbbing alongside him, a growing wetness hidden in your pants, but you ignore it for now. as much as your body wants you to, you aren’t getting off right now; you refuse to take off your clothes in the middle of the day in a public space, but you know that chan is ready and willing to do any humiliating thing at a moment’s notice. he doesn’t even get off on it, he’s just weird like that.
“that’s it, channie,” you coo, your mouth close to his ear as you nose at his cheek. “let me make you feel good. i bet you’ve been thinking of doing this all day.”
“n-no, you freak,” he stutters out, and his hips jerk up to meet yours. “you’re the one who comes up with these weird ideas. i was going to-to fuck you in the- ah, the hotel bed like a normal pers-ah-“
the way he’s trying to talk with his mind clouded in pleasure is unbearably cute. so cute that you forgive him for the blame he tries to place on you for having a dirty mind. before you met him you were as vanilla as plain ice cream, he’s the one that made you like this with his weird smooth talking and long list of kinks you’ve slowly been discovering together.
“keep talking and i’ll leave you like this,” you reach a hand between your legs where your body meets his and wrap a hand around his hard cock through his clothes. you bet he’s leaking, already on edge enough to come soon, and even though you started it you’re grateful that he decided to wear black today.
you don’t know if you could have had the strength to suffer that kind of embarrassment if he had been wearing something lighter that would show undeniable proof of what you were doing minutes before entering the lobby.
“no,” he uses his grip on you to pull you impossibly further into him, crushing your hand between your bodies and sending a shuddering gasp through you both. “you’re finishing this.”
his hands move to your hips and he curls his fingers into your skin as if he thinks you’ll run away if he doesn’t hold on hard enough. he starts moving you back and forth, setting his own rhythm without any help from you, grinding you back and forth as if you were inanimate. no matter how many times you’ve been intimate with him, the moment when he switches from subby and pliant to taking what he wants has always given you whiplash.
you wrap your arms around his shoulders and enjoy the ride, a little overwhelmed by how good it feels and too lightheaded to really argue. it doesn’t take him long to reach his climax with the way he’s bucking up against you and panting into your shoulder. he jerks you towards him in one final pull before his entire body tenses and goes taut and his breath catches in his throat.
you can feel his dick twitch in your hand once, twice, before he relaxes into a puddle against the driver’s seat. his breaths are slow and heavy and his heartbeat is still pounding, and there’s a small line of sweat that trails from his temple to his jaw that you lean in to lick away.
“you’re going to have to go check us in, baby,” he thunks his head against the headrest, sighing deeply. “i can’t feel my legs.”
a/n: i was gonna write something cute about chan helping y/n move because i am moving and i wish i had Big Strong Man to help me but this turned into a whole lot of pussy eating and not a lot of packing and moving. warnings: y/n has a pussy, weird caveman jokes, oral sex, MDNI. 1k. pt ii.
“we ran out of tape!” you hear a call from the kitchen, muffled by the cardboard your head is currently surrounded by. you’re halfway inside a box, patting down newspaper so you can create a cushion for your carefully curated collection of mugs to sit on so they don’t break in transport.
“the fuck we did,” you grumble, annoyance and a flash of panic rising up as you dust your hands off and make your way over to chan. “we just bought some yesterday, don’t tell me we forgot it in the cart-“
you cut yourself off when you see chan holding a full roll of packing tape on one finger, a teasing smile on his face.
“kidding,” he laughs, setting the tape down to walk towards you. “got ya.”
“you just had to mess with me while i was working,” you roll your eyes but accept when he turns you around to lean you against the empty kitchen counter. “did you accomplish your goal of being one annoyance closer to me murdering you and taking the insurance money to hire movers?”
“no, but i did accomplish my goal of getting your attention,” he leans into your space, pressing you up further into the countertop. “you’re working too hard, baby. take a break.”
“i just need to get one more box done, then-“ the rest of your sentence is muffled by the palm of his hand and you make angry eye contact with him above his wrist. it’s the only thing you can do to retaliate, since he doesn’t get grossed out if you lick his hand and gets weirdly turned on if you bite it.
“box later,” he insists, pulling his hand away to tame a stray lock of your hair down against our head. “lunch now. hungry.”
“and he’s reduced to caveman speech,” you give in easily when you feel the weariness of your muscles sink in. it is easy to ignore when you are busy, but with the languid comfort that comes with his weight pressed against yours it draws your attention.
“would a caveman do this?” he leans in the rest of the way and presses his lips to yours in a slow, gentle kiss, letting his breath out into a sigh against your mouth. he squeezes his hands against your hips and lifts, and your center of gravity shifts as you’re placed on top of the counter.
“that’s exactly what a caveman would do, i think,” you say, breaking the kiss to thunk your head against the cabinet behind you. you can see his brain working to produce a witty comeback by the way his eyes narrow, but he must lose the fight with his own intelligence because he sinks to his knees a moment later without a word.
“i think cavemen like snacks,” he leans his head against your thigh and plays with the waistband of your shorts with his hands, looking up at you through his dark eyelashes. “does my food consent to a little pre-lunch sample?”
“as long as we can let this metaphor go, you can do whatever you want,” you feign nonchalance but your heartbeat is picking up, crescendoing into a racing pace when he manages to wiggle your shorts and underwear off of you.
you would go into the semantics of your bare ass on the kitchen counter being unhygienic, but you’re moving out tomorrow and soon that’ll be someone else’s problem. hopefully the new tenant bleaches everything.
he noses at your folds, unhurried and curious like he’s discovering something for the first time. when his tongue darts out to taste you, you’re almost embarrassed by the whine that leaves your throat without permission. really, you shouldn’t be so effected by such a simple touch, but you both have been too busy with packing the last few weeks to do anything other than unsatisfying quickies in the shower and it’s left you restless.
your breath hitches when he grabs your thighs and pushes your legs further apart. his next lick is harder, more of his tongue reaching out to draw a broad stroke between your hole and your clit. your hips jerk when his teeth graze against your skin and a small gush of slick escapes as you clench around nothing.
“the snack talks back,” he smirks, using two of his fingers to spread the wetness around. he teases at your entrance, and chokes on a gasp when your hands fly to his hair to press his face against your core.
“oh my god, shut up,” you loosen your grip when he gets the message and starts sucking at your clit, meaningfully this time instead of whatever he was doing before while thinking of some weird prehistoric era joke. he dips his fingers into you, crooking his fingers and making shallow thrusts that light up your nerve endings. fuck, this will be over too soon with the way you’re reacting.
you let go of his hair to cover your mouth as you start panting along with the pulsing in your pussy, and he whines into you pitifully. you’re not sure if it’s because he wants you to pull on his hair or because he wants to hear you, but he relaxes when your hand fists back into his curls.
“fuuuuuck, baby,” your hips are moving in minute jerks and you can feel the familiar burning heat spread through your core as your orgasm builds. you twitch one last time as it finally snaps, and your walls pulse desperately around his fingers as he eats you through it. your legs close around his ears as you come, your vision blacking out for a moment in response to his enthusiastic licking and sucking.
you relax your legs and push him away once the pleasure sparks into overstimulation, electricity crackling against a fine line between good and too much. he stays for a few seconds longer, stubborn in his desire to clean you up and hear you whimper, before falling back into his heels.
his face is glistening with your slick, his lips are red and swollen and he looks so satisfied with himself that you’re abruptly annoyed again.
“don’t say it,” you warn, the fear you wanted to instill dulled by the lethargy in your voice. “whatever stupid joke you’re going to say, keep it in your head.”
“i wasn’t going to say anything,” he protests, the mirth in his eyes revealing that he was, in fact, going to say something. “wait, but i’m actually hungry. let’s order takeout?”
changbin's folded completely in half, his legs pushed so far back his knees press into the mattress on either side of his head. he's flexible from years of dance practices but you're sure he'll feel the burn tomorrow.
"you can take it," you grunt, driving your strap deeper with a wet squelch. it sinks in without resistance, his rim puffy and loose from his previous orgasms. "that's it, pretty boy."
his answer is a broken whine, high-pitched and desperate. his cock twitches against his stomach and leaks pathetically. precum pools in the dips and folds of his tummy, cock jumping every time your strap hits that spot that makes him see stars.
"f-hnng, hh —"
"what's wrong, bunny?"
drool slips down changbin's chin, his eyes hazy and unfocused. seeing him like this, unable to form a coherent thought, makes your core clench. you grip his pecs and squeeze, kneading the soft muscle. he keens as his oversensitive nipples brush against your palms.
"such a pretty thing," you coo, leaning down to mouth at his chest. "you'd look so gorgeous all swollen... round and full with my cum."
changbin sobs. his cock twitches, another bead of precum oozing from the tip. he's already so empty but the thought of you breeding him — filling him up until it takes — has him clenching around your strap.
"want it," he slurs, "please, wan' — ahh - wanna be yours, breed me, please —"
you push his legs down even further and pick up your pace. wet, filthy sounds bounce off the walls. "yeah? is that what you really want? want me to knock you up? keep you stuffed until you're dripping?"
he nods frantically, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks. his cock pulses, on the edge of cumming dry, and you know it must hurt. he bites his lip to stop himself from making a sound, but you shake your head.
"let me hear how badly you need it, pretty boy."
there's no stopping him now. changbin wails, and you squeeze his pecs one more time as his orgasm crashes over him, nothing but a weak twitch and a pathetic dribble of cum. he's never looked more wrecked — skin flushed and sweaty, his damp hair sticking to his forehead and his eyes rolling into the back of his head. shameless sounds spill from his lips as you fuck him through it, hole clenching so hard around your strap you're sure you can feel it, already begging for more.
how do we feel about short snippets? like 100-600 words. i have so little time to write these days but sometimes i have thoughts n could write them out and post them, but i always feel like i should do more or write a longer cohesive story ;-; but maybe something short is better than nothing idk
fem!Binnie in a pretty pink harness (ones with little metal heart rings???) and frilly skirt….salivating
WAIT FUCK NIPPLE PIERCINGS ??? I’m all over the place rn
pink leather harness tight enough for her soft tummy to spill between the straps, skirt flipped up as she sits on your face... i just know her pussy would be so cute, clit all swollen from the hours you've spent licking it. she'd be so so noisy, whimpering louder with every orgasm you pull from her 🤭
I believe in the mean dom Changbin agenda. choking you while he fucks you stupid for acting out??? WITH THOSE ARMS??? I also think bin and leashes go well together. like it just makes sense in my brain y’know?
i need to be choked by those arms so bad 🥴 need him in full leather bdsm gear with the guns out.. wearing a mask n everything 🤭
hiii, just read your recent noncon fic for chan and your writing is absolutely amazing! i was wondering if maybe you could do something like it again, but this time with the other members, too? like they're all kinda perving after reader and working together? doesn't have to be somnophilia, could be another scenario if you can come up with one!
tysm <33 requests are closed atm but i wrote something like that here w all the members :))
cw. this post contains dark topics, reader discretion is advised. noncon !!, noncon somno, drugging w sleeping pills, 9th member reader, chan's desperate and a perv wc. 2260 minors dni.
note. here's a noncon version of this story, by popular demand. it's written from chan's pov :)) prompt: #31 "shh. go back to sleep."
you look so serene, curled towards the wall with one hand tucked under your cheek.
your pajama shirt has ridden up, exposing the curve of your waist and the gentle ridges of your spine. the slow rise and fall of your chest tells him you didn't hear him enter your room. you never do. he's practiced unlocking your door until he could do it without a sound.
he stands there for a moment, watching you, cock already throbbing in his sweats. he's been hard since he left his room, drawn to yours by the memory of dance practice earlier that day. the way you shivered when he put his hands on your hips, pretending not to be affected by his proximity. it had cost him all his self-control not to take you against the practice room mirror right then and there. he'd pushed minho aside harder than necessary, but something in the other man's hungry gaze had bothered him. no one should be allowed to look at you like that, let alone touch you, even if it improves your performance.
you sigh and mutter something under your breath, a faint word that sounds eerily similar to his name. something flutters in his chest. even though he's a year older, he loves it when you use pet names for him. channie. chan-ah. he reaches out to stroke your hair, still a little damp from your evening shower.
the first time it happened he thought he'd imagined it. then you said it again. he stood over you for an hour after, hand wrapped tight around his aching cock, finishing into his own palm with the other pressed against his mouth.
something changed in him after that night. his visits became more frequent. chan moves around the bed in silence, knowing exactly where your furniture is located and how to lower himself onto the mattress without disturbing you. the bed dips beneath his weight but you don't stir. you never do; he made sure of that, too.
he shrugs off a wave of envy as he looks at your sleeping form. everyone knows chan can't sleep, no matter what he tries. what they don't know is the real reason for his insomnia: you. what man would be able to sleep at night, knowing you are only a few rooms away?
he gently brushes his fingers through your hair, tilting your head so he can view the outline of your profile in the dimly lit room. you make a soft sound and it goes straight to his cock. he's taken care of you since day one, making sure you never felt left out as the only girl in the group. remembering small details like the names of your childhood pets and the birth dates of your parents and siblings. he learned to read your body, to notice when you're struggling before you do, so he can appear at your side with a gentle hand pressed to your back.
and you? you let him.
you keep your sleeping pills in your nightstand, packages you ordered online when you were exhausted after practice and not thinking clearly. and the ones that showed up on your desk with a little hand-written note: got some new pills. saw you looking tired yesterday, give them a try <33
he's sure you never bothered to check the dosage, trusting him to such an extent it didn't even occur to you to ask for the leaflet. it's all your fault, really, for not making it harder. for letting him guide you without questioning.
he lies down behind you on the mattress, close enough to feel the heat radiating off your body, and just breathes with you for a moment. he has to close his eyes against the intensity of it.
his hand finds your hip first. he lets it rest there, over the blanket, the warmth of your skin palpable through the layers. you shift slightly and he freezes, breath catching in his throat, but you settle again like you always do. the pills see to that.
he slips under the covers and drags his fingers across the bare skin of your thigh until he finds the edge of your underwear. he traces the seam; the thinning cotton, the worn elastic, the way it cuts slightly into the flesh of your hip. he never thought such ordinary underwear could get him this hard. he's held this same pair in his hands so many times, fished out of your laundry basket, pressing it to his face and breathing you in. half your wardrobe has been against his cock: from your bras and panties to the socks you wear to practice, the ones that rub his skin raw. he can't stop himself from cumming all over them.
you shift again, your body responding to his touch even in sleep, and he watches your expression for any sign of waking. your brow furrows briefly and smooth outs again. your lips part gently. chan's learned to read those small signs like another language, knowing exactly when and how to move next.
his hand slips beneath the waistband of your underwear. he grunts, a low and guttural sound. you're wet. not just damp or a little slick, but wet. soaking through the fabric, your cunt hot and slippery beneath his fingers. he has to stop and breathe to calm himself and fight off the wave of arousal that threatens to overtake him.
you've been like this before. he's felt it on other nights in those rare moments like this, when he let himself touch, just a little to take the edge off, too scared to go any further. he's made you cum in your sleep twice now just by fingering you, always leaving you to wake up confused and flushed with only the faint memory of a dream.
your cunt's leaking all over his fingers, making his head spin, and chan surpresses another moan. he's been so patient. so careful, so fucking good for so fucking long and he can't — he can't —
he yanks your underwear down your thighs, rougher than intended, and you mumble something — half a word, a protest maybe, but chan's too far gone to care. he shoves his sweats down just enough to free himself.
"hey, it's just me," he whispers, "don't worry. it won't hurt for long."
he spits into his palm and strokes his thick cock, spreading the wetness over the head. he knows it won't be enough, not with the size of him, but he can't wait any longer. he's spent months waiting patiently, and it's too late to go back now. if he doesn't get to be inside you within the next few seconds he'll lose his mind.
his hand hooks under your knee, lifting your leg and opening you up. your cunt glistens in the light falling from the crack between your curtains. it's an obscene sight, your lips a little puffy from his fingers toying with them earlier, as if daring him to touch you again.
chan takes a deep breath and pushes in.
he shudders, unable to keep a moan from slipping out. you're so tight. so fucking tight, and wet, and hot — he sinks into you agonizingly slow, inch by inch, and it feels better than anything he's imagined. his hips press flush against your ass and he stops there, his cock throbbing as your cunt flutters to adjust around the sudden intrusion.
you make a sound in your sleep — a whimper, confused and pained — and your face twists. your hand reaches behind you, fingers brushing against his hip.
"chan?" your voice is low and drowsy from sleep and pills, and a fresh wave of arousal goes straight to his cock at the realization you're awake enough to know something's happening but not awake enough to stop it. he pulls back a little, hissing at the feeling of your tight cunt sucking him back in.
"i'm right here."
he kisses your nape and thrusts, pushing your body forward on the mattress. your hand falls away from his hip and you make another sound, something that could be a moan or a protest. he can't tell and he doesn't care, fucking you in earnest now, pulling you back on his cock.
"feel that, angel?" he's talking into your shoulder, his lips dragging across your skin. "feel how good you take me? i knew you would. you were made for me."
your body responds despite the fog clouding your senses. your cunt clenches around him, back arching while soft sounds fall from your lips.
"i thought about this so many times." he's blabbering now, the words spilling into the quiet room. "every time you smile at me or touch my arm. eight months of torture, of watching you sit at the dinner table in your flimsy shorts, of watching you walk out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel. can you blame me?"
he rolls you onto your stomach and follows you down, his weight pressing you into the mattress. he belatedly realizes you're awake now — or close enough to it, hands fisting in the sheets and voice hoarsely calling out his name — but he doesn't stop. his hips drive into you, the new angle allowing him even deeper, feeling every inch of your cunt wrapped around him.
"no, please, chan, i can't…"
"you can." he reaches under you, hand wrapping around your throat, arching your spine. the sounds you make go straight to his cock. you're crying; he can hear it in your voice, feel it in the way your body shakes. your pulse thumps against his fingertips and his own heart flutters in the same rhythm. you're crying because of him. you're falling apart because of him. this is all his doing. he's floating, lost in the feeling of you, enveloping all his senses.
his hand slides down your body, between your legs, rubbing your clit with urgency.
"tell me you're mine," he pants, pressing his lips against your shoulder. your body seizes, cunt clamping tighter around him. he already knows you are, but he needs to hear you say it. he has to make sure this is real.
he pinches your clit when you don't answer, your cries muffled by the pillow. soft, broken noises sweeter than any sound he's heard you made before. his fingers pick up their pace until your body shudders and a gush of wetness covers his thighs, soaking the sheets beneath you. you go quiet as he fucks you through it, past it, not slowing down to give you a chance to breathe.
"i'm going to cum inside you." his thrusts become more erratic, and the way your back curves and your shoulders shake almost push him over the edge before he can finish his sentence. "and then i'm going to do it again. and again. until you understand that you're mine."
his hips stutter, burying his cock as deep as he can, holding it there and spilling hot and thick. his head swims, almost as hazy as yours, drunk on the feeling of your pussy milking him through his orgasm.
you're still crying. he feels your heartbeat against his chest, pounding like that of a small animal. he wraps his arms around you and rolls onto his side. at some point you've reached back and grabbed his hair, your hands still tangled tightly in the damp strands, and he shivers at the touch.
you're holding him. after all this time, you're holding him.
his lips find your shoulder, your neck, that soft ticklish spot behind your ear. he kisses you gently, relishing in the blissful warmth and your familiar scent surrounding him. he whispers into your skin, voice soft and gentle.
"i love you so much. you have no idea."
you don't answer. you're exhausted, throat raw from crying out his name, so he cradles you against his chest and listens to your breathing evening out. it's okay. he can wait. he's gotten very good at waiting, and he knows you need him now.
his softening cock slips out, followed by a rush of cum dripping down your thigh. he reaches down without thinking and cups a hand over your cunt, keeping it inside where it belongs. you flinch at the touch. he whispers more soothing words into your skin between kisses, familiar and comforting.
"i'll take care of everything," he promises. "your pills, i'll get them for you. and the makeup to cover up the marks. i know which shade you use, remember? i've bought it for you before. nobody is going to find out, i'll make sure of it. and if they do? i'm the leader. i'll protect us."
us. you and him, like it was meant to be. not just for tonight but for the coming days, weeks, months…. the rest of his life, if he has anything to say about it.
he pulls the blanket up to cover both of you, tucking it around your shoulders. his hand stays where it is, keeping his cum inside you.
"we can talk about this in the morning," he whispers between kisses, "about… us."
tomorrow you'll wake up sore and confused and alone. you might cry again, try to push him away, but he can handle it. you'll understand your life and career rest on his his protection. he'll hold you and tell you he loves you, show you in every way he can.
you mutter something in your sleep, too quiet for him to hear, but he knows.
