threesome with fem minsung 😵💫😵💫 scissoring with lino and making jisung watch just to rile her up… rubbing your wet pussies together with min’s thick thighs caged around yours, teasing jisung with your slick noises. allow her to touch herself and she’ll be two fingers deep immediately, eyes trained on where you and minho meet and mewling breathy praises about how good you both look. minho would probably do something obscene like spread your lips to “make your clits kiss <33”
btw i love the new layout! the little bunnies as dividers is the cutest thing ever!!
waaa this is so hot ;( scissoring minho sounds like a dream anyway but of course adding hannie to the mix makes it even better. i think she’d like to watch the two of you fuck just as much as she likes being fucked because it’s so erotic to see…. the sight and sounds are the best thing ever to touch herself to <3 she’s desperate enough to scoot forward and try to rub herself against your shin or minho’s bent arm if she really can’t help herself. and minho definitely does everything she can to make the sight of you together even more obscene! she likes working you and jisung up with her words and actions but can’t lie about how much she likes being watched too. she does make your clits kiss, and hers is so swollen and slick that her own need is undeniable.
perv Minho headcanons? Tyyy and love your writing ❤️
i think more than being a pervert in secret he’s a pervert to your face lol. like for instance, he’d absolutely steal your panties, but it’s while you’re watching him… he’ll get up from his spot while you’re literally in the middle of talking and walk to your dresser to snatch a pair, or he’ll rummage through your hamper to find one that you’ve already worn and carry on the conversation completely unfazed like he’s not snatching your underwear. minho also gets off on seeing you debase yourself for him… he wants to watch you be dirty for his enjoyment. that’s probably his biggest perversion. he’ll kick off his boxers and toss them to you to see you touch yourself with them pressed to your nose, or maybe he wants to see you rub your pussy with them instead. don’t fuck yourself with a dildo, fuck yourself with the handle of your hairbrush because you’re so desperate to be filled up that you’ll use anything. that’s what minho likes to see.
and it pairs well with the sex you have too. you can’t call him a pervert without him calling you one back… you do everything he tells you to after all, and you like it. “i’m a pervert, jagi? mhm, that’s right. i am. i wonder what that makes you then.”
cw. this post contains dark topics, reader discretion is advised. stepbrother!jeongin, dub/noncon (sort of... they're a mess), infidelity, jeongin has a big dick wc. 1800 minors dni.
note. the first drabble for my 7k event is here! using the prompts #56 "is this turning you on? that's disgusting", #71 "aww, it's too big? better get used to it then" & #73 "what would your boyfriend think if he could see you like this?"
the house is quiet.
it's well past midnight; two cancelled subways derailed your hopes of an easy ride home. you should probably avoid waking your family — avoid waking him —, but you ran out of patience long ago.
you can't wait to go back to campus after summer. you miss being able to walk around your own place carefree, even if you share it with your roommate. she's staying with her girlfriend most of the time anyway, and anything's better than… whatever this is.
the clasp on your left heel is stuck and you struggle to get it off, nearly toppling over in the process, when the overhead light flicks on. you hiss and squint against the brightness.
a dim figure comes into focus as your eyes adjust. you'd recognize the outline of those shoulders anywhere. you ignore him, feebly tugging at the strap and nearly snapping the leather.
jeongin leans against the doorframe, watching you fumble, a lazy smirk plastered on his face.
you curse and kick the other shoe into a corner.
"rough night?" jeongin asks, though you know it isn't a question. he takes in your mussed state, sharp eyes catching your swollen lips and the faint red smudges on your cheek.
"let me guess. he's got you all worked up again and then… nothing."
you swallow. you hate how he doesn't need to say his name to make you feel a twang of disappointment in the pit of your stomach. hate how easily he reads you. but the worst part is how your body reacts to the sound of his voice; to the low, confident tone which has become so familiar. inescapable.
there's the echo of all the things he's said to you: whispers, demands, orders, pleas. the sounds that never leave your mind.
it annoys you how he's always all up in your business like he owns you.
you move to push past him but his hand settles on your waist. it isn't forceful; just firm enough to stop you in your tracks.
"jeongin," you warn.
"what? i'm not touching you like that. not again. not unless you ask." his thumb strokes over your hip, mocking your restraint. "but i do wonder what your boyfriend would think if he could see you like this."
your pulse quickens. "like what?"
"like you know i would never leave you unsatisfied."
heat floods your chest and creeps up your neck. somehow, you two being the same age made things worse. there was no older brother and younger sister, or vice versa. no one to look up to. no one to take care of. just plain old sibling rivalry mixed with something undefined, something unnamed that should've stayed buried.
you wish you could say he was the one who'd unearthed it, but you weren't so sure.
"come, or you'll wake mum and dad."
he wraps his arm around your waist to steady you and guides you to your room. it feels ridiculous, letting him lead you like this, one foot still heeled and the other on your tiptoes.
he nudges you backward until your knees hit the edge of your bed. "sit," he says.
you do. too quickly. the glint in his eyes tells you he noticed, and your face starts burning again.
jeongin sinks to his knees in front of you, slow enough for the heat to spread through your whole body. his slender fingers loosen the strap on your remaining heel and he takes his time gently lifting it off. then his fingers are tracing up your calf, your knee, the inside of your thigh, and you can't stop your hips from twitching.
he chuckles. "is this turning you on? that's disgusting."
there's warmth laced in his mocking tone. he loves how disgusting you are — and he loves being the cause of it.
you try to close your legs but he catches your knee with casual, surprising strength.
"relax," he soothes. "i'm just checking something."
his hand slips higher now, brushing the edge of your clothes. testing the boundary between what you'll permit and what you'll beg him for.
when he finds it — the damp heat of your panties — he groans softly.
"so he really didn't take care of you." his thumb presses lightly and you gasp. "figures."
you bite your lip in an attempt to stay quiet. he leans in closer, lips brushing your knee as he speaks. "i told you to stop letting him disappoint you."
"please…" you say, not sure what you're asking for exactly.
"let me show you how it's supposed to feel."
he touches with more certainty now, and when he slips two fingers past your entrance you jolt forward, grabbing his shoulder for balance.
"he got you nice and ready, though," he grins. "or is all this for me?"
you avert your eyes. he doesn't need to hear the truth from your mouth. there's no need for words anyway; he already knows.
"we're just playing. it's not like we're having sex." he curls his fingers, drawing another involuntary moan from you. "besides, you love my hands. i always catch you looking at them when you think no one's paying attention."
his thumb toys with your swollen clit, fingers pressing in deep until your legs start trembling. then he pulls away. you whine as he teases your hole, running the back of his knuckles over your slit, kissing the inside of your knee before standing up and stripping himself of his clothes.
"don't you want to have fun? it'll feel good, i promise." he's still grinning, looking almost innocent with his bright smile and crinkled eyes despite the hard lines of his body.
he's changed so much since the first day you met. he's grown from a lanky teen into this man your friends fawn over. you can't pinpoint the exact moment it happened — all you know is he was your annoying brother one day, and then suddenly the tension shifted into something unspeakable.
you've seen him naked before. seen his cock. you've touched it once, felt the weight of it in your palm. dreamed about the taste of it on your lips. but now, standing before you, he feels too real. the veins on his forearms. the trimmed patch of dark hair leading up to his bellybutton. the citrus-y scent of his body wash, the one you lie about stealing all the time.
he helps you out of your dress until you're left in only your flimsy lace bra and panties. he hovers above you and strokes his cock over your clothed slit, groaning low and rough, and you commit the sound to memory; file it away in the mental collection of things you touch yourself to.
his gaze drops down to the mess between your legs — precum soiling your soaked panties, the outline of your pussy visible through the sheer white lace, lips already puffy and sensitive.
it feels so good in every way it shouldn't. the weight of him on top of you, his arm trapped between your bodies and guiding his tip against your clit with every jerk of his hips. you barely notice him slipping underneath your panties until the soft skin of his cock touches your mound.
then his hips pull back and forward again, cock sliding down and pressing against your hole.
"jeong — n-no!" your eyes widen in panic. up until now you've been able to pretend — to lie to yourself — that none of this counts. it's not real sex when it's just wandering hands and mouths. when it's just make-believe, the two of you playing, not fucking.
but nothing prepared you for the way his cock throbs against your cunt. your core clenches, begging for him.
he backs off and relief washes over you. it's short lived, however, because on the next stroke you feel that same pressure again, your body already starting to open up for him.
"stop, w-we can't," you plead. "what if they hear us?"
it's a stupid excuse, and you know it. jeongin pauses and shakes his head.
"dad went out late, came home a little before you did, drunk off his ass as usual. he won't even hear you scream," he chuckles, and you don't know if his words are reassurance or a threat. "didn't you hear him when you came in? there's no way your mom isn't wearing her earplugs. he snores like a lion."
you're reminded of your earlier conversation, when he'd warned you about waking your parents. the stillness. the soft buzz of the hallway light.
you're not sure what to believe anymore.
"come on, sis," his smile widens as your expression sours at the word, "stop pretending you don't want this."
he kisses your open mouth, feels your arch up into him in response. the subtle tilt of your hips chasing his. he presses in deeper, the stretch making you gasp against his lips.
he laughs. "guess that answers it."
your hands fly to his shoulders. he's much bigger than anyone you've taken before, and he seems to be aware of it: taking his time to push in inch by inch, relishing in the way your cunt flutters around him.
"shit, you're tiny."
you frown, trying to breathe through the feeling. "'s not me, it's you."
jeongin shakes his head, but there's a faint smile around his lips. "so argumentative." he grabs your wrists and pins them above your head. "always needing to have the last word."
he pulls back, waits for you to gather your thoughts — and slams into you the moment your mouth opens, knocking the air out of your lungs.
"not today, though. all the sounds you'll make will be mine."
your own voice is distant to your ears. you hear yourself plead, mumbling something between moans. you've never felt this full — never thought it could feel like this, somewhere on the border of pain and pleasure and burning shame.
"aww, it's too big? better get used to it then." he mocks. "i'll work you open every day until my cock's all your pussy remembers."
you know he'll deliver on his promise. there's no going back now, not when he's fucking you deeper into the mattress with every thrust.
but the worst part is the familiarity of it. how, despite his tight grip and taunting words, you know he needs this as much as you do.
"j-jeongin…" your voice breaks, and he releases your wrists, wraps his hands around the back of your thighs instead. presses them up against your chest. there's an urgency to his movements now, sweat beading on his forehead.
"that's it. come on, let go for me."
his mouth find yours and you fall apart, giving him every sound he works out of you.
"now," he says, kissing the salt off your cheeks as he slows down to let you breathe, "tell me again how he's good enough for you?"
changbin saying “enjoy me take me” in the new code❗️like WHATTT
🏷️: light d/s dynamics, playful needy bf changbinnie, sub!bin, dom!afab!reader, unprotected sex, lowkey breast worship but just lowkey, also lowkey hinted free use
a/n: you read my fucking mind im so serious….. i’ve been thinking abt this alllll day HDJDJD i also feel like i haven’t written bin as this submissive in a minute even though that’s my brand, so here i am making up for lost time.
you’ve only held out this long because changbin likes when you do. he wants to sulk and whine; he wants to fuss and complain, such pitiful appeals only lightened by the smirk that tugs at the corner of his lips and the mirth twinkling in his eyes when you finally give in. the computer screen you’re trying to focus on might as well be turned off with how little of your attention it keeps. it hardly holds a candle to the sight behind you, what you really ache to see, but you’re practicing patience for your sake and his.
changbin is the picture of pure comfort where he lounges against the pillows of your bed, his arms spread wide and relaxed beside his head, one toned leg bent at the knee. he’s beautifully bare and beautifully spread, a decadent feast you’re not allowed to indulge in quite yet. his muscles lax and body pliant. you hear his feet swish against the rumpled sheets and a hum from so deep in his chest that he sounds like a purring cat.
a whine then. more rustling of the sheets.
“yeobo.” if you look at him, it’s over. of course it would be. you can’t resist his sweet eyes or the even sweeter curves of his small mouth in general, but especially not when he calls for you like that. “mmm~ pay attention to me.”
you haven’t gotten the chance to answer before he’s barreling on, his voice pitching as he complains from the bed.
“changbinnie is laying on such a nice, warm bed. wahhh… it’s really a shame there’s no one around to share it with...” you hear his head lift up from the pillow like he’s waiting for your reaction, his gaze pointed at the back of your computer chair. he sighs then, something put-upon and dramatic, and you hide your grin in the palm of your hand. “changbinnie is loooonely.”
“changbinnie is loud,” you say, and you’re met with a squawk. “i’m trying to pay attention to this.”
“if you paid attention to your best changbin you wouldn’t even have to try.”
you roll your eyes fondly and lean back in your chair. it squeaks with the added weight, and changbin makes some giddy sort of noise like he’s proud to finally get his way. but you haven’t turned around yet. no matter how much you crave the sight of him, no matter how much you want to see the pleased smile he’ll give you or the rounded apples of his cheeks.
“give me a little bit and i’m all yours. let me concentrate on this, hm?”
changbin clicks his tongue, huffy. “you’re already mine right now!” the sheets rustle again, and there’s movement out of the corner of your eye. you bite the tip of your nail like that will give you any more resilience, eyes nearly crossing in your failing attempts to stay focused on the screen in front of you. what website are you even on? what day of the week is it?
“concentrate on me.” the bed creaks. changbin braces himself at the edge, kneeling on the mattress and waiting so sweetly for your attention. you don’t have to see him to know his hands are placed primly on his thighs, his eyes wide and moony in wait. “if you do, i’ll be really good.”
another fond roll of your eyes. with raised eyebrows and your head leaned back against your chair, you finally roll your head to the side to look at him in mock sternness. “oh, so you’ll be bad if i don’t?”
changbin’s never bad. he’s a good boy to his core, working himself into a sweat to make you proud and bring you pleasure in any way that he can, his own endlessly heightened by yours. he whines and fusses to play coy with you but turns as sweet as spun sugar when you direct your gaze toward him, as pliant as a rag doll at a single touch. he’s your teddy bear, as gentle as a kiss, those toned muscles only put to use when you want them to be. changbin couldn’t be bad if he tried, and you know that he won’t try.
he shakes his head firmly, that smile you love so much curling the corners of his pink lips. his bottom lip hides his bottom row of teeth from view. it’s a smug little thing, spoiled, but you wouldn’t have him any other way. it falls into something softer when he speaks, his voice earnest and eyes the same.
“no,” changbin assures. his fingers twitch where they rest on his thighs. his cock follows their lead, half hard against the crook of his thigh and growing the longer you keep your eyes on him. “no, i’ll just be extra good. i’ll be extra good and make yeobo feel nice. hm? won’t you like that?”
you turn your chair and cross your legs. changbin follows the movement with wide eyes but slips them back up to your face when you still. he licks his lips, drags his teeth against his top one, and it comes away pinker than it was.
“you want to make me feel nice?” changbin nods. his breathing picks up, his chest heaves. his nipples are dusky and hard — if you sucked one into your mouth he’d whimper and writhe.
“please,” he begs. and isn’t that what you were waiting for all along? that sweet sounding word, desperate and wrecked as it tumbles from his lips. “i do, please let me. i’ll- sweetheart, you know changbinnie will do anything. you know i will, right?”
you coo, something condescending that makes his chin quiver and his cock jump. that’s when you stand on your feet, toes pushing into the carpet as you step toward him. your panties drop, your shirt lands on the arm of the chair. changbin follows you with eager eyes, his chin ducking like he wants to bow his head to you but can’t bring his gaze away from your face. you lift your hand to cup his cheek and he leans into it without hesitation, his skin warm and balmy under your tender touch. you’re just barely taller than him like this, and he looks up at you like you hung the stars in his sky.
“you’ll do anything?”
changbin nods slowly, still nuzzling into your hand. his eyes begin to droop, his lashes flutter.
his brows furrow when you slip your hand from his cheek. it doesn’t go far, trailing down the warm skin of his neck and stopping at his chest. changbin catches on quickly even when his headspace is settling in — a soft press to his sternum rocks him slightly on his heels, and changbin takes that as his cue to back himself toward the pillows. he slips from his knees and pushes himself back slowly on his palms, easing himself backwards to the head of the bed. it gives you enough room to climb onto the bed yourself, crawling on your knees and pushing yourself between his. changbin bites his bottom lip. his ears are pink, his chest is flushing just the same.
when he reaches the pillows, changbin leans back against them and arches his back. he lifts his hips to show himself off, his heavy cock standing proud and leaking at the tip from anticipation alone, and then he reaches for you when you come close enough, calloused palms sliding up your hips and squeezing the plush skin there.
you lick the tips of your fingers and bring them to his cock. a moan catches in changbin’s throat, his own fingers tightening their grip on you. he dazedly helps you settle into his lap, the backs of your thighs thrown over the tops of his, slick cunt kissing the crown of his cock as you raise onto your knees in preparation to take him. thick pressure at the warm give of your hole, twitching fingers and bated breath.
“enjoy me,” changbin pleads. his hips shift, and when you finally sink down on the short length of his cock, his thighs tremble underneath yours. “take me.”
changbin’s head is thrown back. you lean down to kiss the moan as it travels up his throat, trail your tongue to the hinge of his jaw to taste him there too, salty and sweet. he’s stretching you to your fullest, but it’s almost as if he’s the one who needs a moment to adjust to the silk between your thighs. his legs writhe, his chest jerks. a slow circle of your hips makes him keen. changbin holds you close to him in an absentminded display of strength he isn’t aware of showing — an arm around your waist, a hand on the nape of your neck. chest to chest like this, you wonder if he can feel the beat of your heart.
your nose bumps his earring. changbin squirms underneath you as your tongue laps at his lobe, a sultry whisper in his ear. “i always enjoy you.”
“yes,” changbin begs again. he squirms, his fingers curl shakily into your hair at the nape of your neck. “please.”
“yeah? you like it so much. you like being enjoyed, but i think you like being taken even more.”
he babbles then, a breathless stutter. both options too good to be true. you can hardly move with his hold on you, but your hips kick toward him softly, a grin settling on your face and tucked into his neck at the cracked mewl he gifts you with. you fuck him like that until your lower back strains; you kiss his cheek, his forehead.
“let me up, bunny.”
changbin whines. he shakes his head, sparkling eyes wide and yearning as he looks up at you.
“just a little bit, just a bit. i promise i won’t go far.” you kiss his round nose to placate him some more, but a kiss to his lips is what does it. changbin goes lax at the first press of your lips and the greedy slide of your tongue. he can’t stop touching you even now — his hands move with your body, sliding down to the dip of your back when you lift up on your knees and curling limply underneath your arm when you rest an elbow on the pillow underneath his head.
your breasts brush against his chin like this. if he leans up and you lean down, he’d have a face full of you. changbin’s throat clicks. his breath leaves him in a rush, and he promptly buries his face into your chest. he stays there as you start to roll your hips again, easier this time, the strain in your back lessening now that you’re positioned higher. changbin’s breath is hot and his lips are soft, frantic kisses pressed to every bit of you he can reach while you bounce in his lap.
“mm~mmm,” his hum bounces with you, muffled by his mouthful of nipple and his needy, flicking tongue. both of his hands slip underneath your arms to clutch at your shoulders and hang on for the ride. your nipple slips from his mouth with a slick noise, and he pants wetly into your bouncing breast, as pleased as pie, exactly where he wants to be. “yes, ahh-! take me. take me, take me.”
your hips move on their own accord, desperately rocking against him to take everything he willingly gives. changbin’s hips buck into yours like he just can’t help it, meeting you in the middle so that you feel him even deeper. your skin is beginning to stick together with sweat, the noise of your melding fills the room and makes your ears heat up. so sinful, so perfect, your beautiful give and take.
there’s no feeling in the world like this and nothing more breathtaking. changbin is like a mirage underneath you, panting and open and honest. his eyes glazed with a mixture of love and lust, his honey colored skin tinted red all the way down his chest. he’s desperate in his own ways but so are you; changbin wants to be taken and you want to take, so you do, and you will, for as long as he’ll let you.
“you like being used so much!” you whine, clenching down on his cock to make his eyes roll, but yours roll first. “you love it. you love it- i wanna-” your hips shudder, your clit rubs his smooth pubic mound and you growl like you’re rabid. “-wanna fucking keep you in my bed all the time, use you up just like you want.”
changbin hiccups. his head bobbles, a dazed nod that he can’t seem to stop once he starts. he tries so hard to focus on the words he wants to say, but his hips are rabbiting into yours and his hands are scrambling along your skin. “please. please- i’d let you, y’bo. i’ll be good, i’ll- m-mm changbinnie’s- changbinnie’s…” his words cut off. changbin arches off the bed to slam his hips into yours before he finishes his thought, breathless and overcome with pleasure. “changbinnie’s yours to use.”
“you are, baby, you are mine to use. isn’t that so nice?”
he just groans, groans and twitches and lolls his head to the side. his cheek bunches like that. his eyes are so hazy, his lips are so plump. you’re so lucky he allows himself be yours — there’s no one else you could ever want like this. changbin’s hands slide off your body like he just doesn’t have the strength to keep them there anymore. his arms flop to the bed, bent at the elbows and pliant by his curly-haired head. prime for the taking, spread out and vulnerable, changbin lets himself be used by you.
your palms find his chest so you can use him for leverage. changbin’s skin is slick with sweat but endlessly sturdy, and he watches with drooping eyes and buzzing hips while you move on top of him.
with aching thighs, you rock your hips until the burning in your belly ignites into something hotter. changbin’s thick cock strokes deep, and you cum around it with a guttural noise, as uninhibited as the way you feel about him. your knees snap around his waist, your nails claw crescents into his pecs. changbin takes everything you give him like he always does, like this is what he needs instead of a climax of his own — he circles your wrists with desperate hands to keep yours in place, grinds his hips up-up-up to lengthen your orgasm.
“did it feel good?” changbin slurs. “was it good?”
was i good? it goes unsaid, but you hear it all the same.
you lean over him again, hands sliding up his arms until your fingers entwine with his, your breasts pressing hot to his heaving chest.
“it’s always good with you. it always feels good, i always enjoy every bit of you i can get.”
he moans at your words and tilts his chin until you give him a kiss. his lips are slick, his tongue is warm. thank goodness his mouth is so little; it’s easier to learn, easier to map with your own probing tongue.
you want him to cum. you want to feel him cum inside, so you tell him just that, breathing the words into your kiss and feeling his body tense as you do.
“can i?” he asks, like he just wants to make sure you won’t change your mind. changbin is a good boy. he couldn’t be bad if he tried, and you know he would never try. “okay- okay, i’m- mmm, changbinnie’s going to- cum for you, for you… for you, i love you.”
changbin’s cum coats your insides when you tell him you love him back, eyes locked on his fluttering ones, fingers squeezing his once, twice, three times when his start to squeeze yours.
he’s cute when he cums. he’s cute all the time, almost unbearably handsome on even his worst days, but he’s really cute when he cums — his face scrunched, his cheeks puffed. he’s pretty pink and kissable, docile when he’s finished pumping you full of him, stretching underneath you like a lazy, purring cat.
“did it feel good?” you repeat his own question from minutes ago. changbin’s smile is slow and dazed, but that mirth is starting to dance in his eyes again.
“it’s always good with you~” he parrots. he was so fucked out you’re surprised he even remembered what you had said.
changbin’s soft cock slips from your clutches when you lift yourself up and off of him, laying flat on your back beside him with your arm thrown above his head. he rolls into your side then and throws a leg over your waist. his arms are tucked against the side of your chest, his nose nuzzles at your ear.
“yeobo,” he breathes. it’s hot and ticklish against your ear, and you scrunch your neck with a snort. “take me~”
“again?! slutty. you’re insatiable today!”
he sidles even closer to you, cooing silly noises into your ear and mouthing at the lobe. you squish his thigh with your fingers and he flexes it with a showy grunt.
“take meee…” he bumps the side of your face with his round nose and presses kiss after kiss to your cheek when he’s done. “to the kitchen~ don’t you want a snack now too?”
a/n: this made me crash the fuck out. what the fuck. he’s so. he’s. anyways here’s some subby changbin that has no real beginning or end because i’ve forgotten how to write. smut - MINORS DNI. >1k.
your lips tingle as they trace along smooth skin, rippling muscle vibrating under your ministrations as you move lower and lower. you’re teasing him and he loves it, he’s so responsive to everything you do that it makes you feel like a god. you’ve been at this longer than you can recount, teasing him to the point of him not being able to form full sentences or think for too long.
it’s just what he needs when he’s feeling overwhelmed, bogged down by pressure and expectations. the eagerness to please you takes over his every cell, turning him into your obedient little plaything.
“no one gets to see this but me?” you run the tips of your fingers down his chest, curling them just enough so your nails scrape against his skin and he shudders underneath you. your question is shaped like a command, a silent threat hidden between the syllables of your words.
“mmh, yours,” he gasps out, eyes hazy and half lidded in a way that makes you smirk against his pecs.
“good boy, changbin,” you ignore the whine he lets out, too used to his reactions to praise to let it fluster you. the thing that does pull at your restraint is the way he throws his head back against the pillows, hair forming a dark halo around him and throat fully exposed for you. you lean up to press a kiss to the newly unveiled patch of skin, scraping your teeth gently against his pulse and sucking until you can feel it jump.
“beautiful,” you mutter as you resume your previous path, sliding down until your breath is fanning the dark curls of hair above the band of his briefs. his hand reaches to hover above your head, fingers itching to run through your hair, but he holds it in place just a breath away from you.
oh, he’s such a good boy for you.
“you can touch,” your permission looses whatever taught strings were holding his body and his hand drops into your hair, the weight of it soothing.
“thank you,” he breathes out, well trained.
“touch, but no pulling,” you warn, letting a bit of warmth seep into your voice. you know that he knows better. he’s attuned to everything you want, knows how to read your sighs as you losing your patience and your hums as you being pleased with him. you don’t need to tell him anything to get him to follow instructions.
the power rush it gives you to have this man who’s built like your own personal super hero under your control is insane. you almost didn’t know what to do with the overinflated sense of ego that he gives you with every command he complies with. the weight of his hand against your hair brings you back down to earth, settling the chemicals bouncing around your brain, grounding you.
“ngh,” his voice is strangled as you slide his briefs just enough, the head of his cock catching on the fabric. it’s so hard that it looks painful, and you coo at him in sympathy. really, you had been teasing him with your mouth for longer than necessary, so it was your fault. you lick a slow, wet stripe up your palm, watching as he throws his head back again just to whip it forward. you can see the internal battle of giving in to the overwhelming feelings and keeping his head up to keep his eyes on you.
his lips begin to shape your name as you take his length in your hand, and you click your tongue against the roof of your mouth.
“that’s not what you should be calling me right now, is it?” you leave your hand still, giving him the chance to correct his mistake and leaving him throbbing in your grip.
“no, noona,” he gasps, the lovely pink flush traveling up his chest all the way to the tips of his ears.
“that’s my perfect angel,” you coo, resting your burning cheek against his trembling thigh as you let your hand move in a lazy pace. he wasn’t the only one blushing - you were affected by this too, you just kept some brain cells together most of the time.
changbin on the other hand was drooling into the pillows, one hand shaking in your hair and the other fisting the sheets. he gasps when you start to move your hand faster, the sharp intake of air jolting his entire body.
he’s quick to get to the edge of release after so long of being teased and touched and kissed. you can tell he’s close when the muscles in his thigh pull taught under your cheek and he removes his hand from your head to cover his eyes. he’s always shy like this, like he can’t stand to look at himself when he’s falling apart in pleasure. like he knows that the only one who’s allowed to see this is you, removing even his own gaze from the equation.
you’d brought him to tears once when you made him look at himself in the full body mirror you bought just for that purpose.
you keep going, twisting your wrist and letting your fingers dance along his cock until he’s right there -
and you stop.
the whine he lets out is absolutely pitiful, and he goes completely boneless against the mattress. he’s panting, gulping down greedy breathes of oxygen as he tries to understand why he isn’t tumbling over the edge right now.
“you’re perfect,” you murmur, your hungry eyes watching every small movement he makes. it’s beautiful to watch, the trust and adoration in his eyes shining at you even when you’ve denied him a release that he deserves. you turn your head, free from his grip now, and suck a gentle bite into his inner thigh. he garbles low in his throat, blinking slowly as his heartbeat returns to a regular pace.
his eyes drift lazily towards you when you tug his briefs back over his cock, the material of it straining over how hard it is.
“what do you say, angel?” you ask him, crawling up so you can tuck him against your chest. your nails scratch at his back and he chokes out a breath against your chest, floating and overwhelmed and happy despite it all.
“thank you,” it’s so quiet that it’s almost not there, but you hear it as if it was whispered right into your ear.
you deny him an orgasm and he thanks you. you’ve trained him so well. your blood rushes between your legs and you suppress the urge to rub them together - there would be plenty of time for him to take care of that for another time.
“keep being my good boy and I’ll take care of this later,” you shift your leg so your knee is pressed just against his straining cock and you drink in the sound he makes. your thoughts are rushing with ideas of what you want to do with him - tie him up with ropes and ride him until he screams? let him fuck you but don’t let him come until you have at least twice?
you keep petting him as you think, lulling him to sleep against you, a remedy for the dark circles under his eyes and a promise of sweet dreams as he thinks about the reward he will get when he wakes.
too bad you didn’t tell him how long he’ll have to wait until later comes, right?
also thank you @woahfruity for reminding me the difference between affect and effect because ill don’t know (even though she doesn’t know the difference between verb and noun)
warnings: ems’ official binchael myers debut!!, dead dove: do not eat, dubious consent, stalking, obsession, parasocialism, violence, mentions of death, blood, and related injuries, manipulation, inhuman strength, (not-established) consensual voyeurism, pain kink, praise kink, exhibitionism, masturbation, fingering, choking, kissing, overstimulation, finger sucking, dry humping, begging, oral sex, loss of virginity, nipple licking, unprotected sex, corruption kink, i actually don’t think this is nearly as dark as the tags make it sound lol
a/n: happy halloween! thank u to my @binniesdimple for sending the ask that inspired me to finally write this and for holding out so long for both! i was originally just going to make this an ask drabble, but i thought it deserved more since this is a concept i’ve wanted to write for a few years now. this is a Super Different type of fic from me lol, and i don’t really know when i’ll write another one in general, so please let me know if you enjoy🎃
w/c: 16.7k
the first time it happens, it feels like your heart is going to hammer right out of your chest. it pounds against your ribcage like it’s trying to escape, pulses so hard that it warms the skin above your sternum red-hot.
a shadow sluicing through the murky orange light of a street lamp, moths flitting around the burning bulbs and buzzing electricity. your front yard stands so still that you might would play it off as a trick of your tired eyes if they weren’t locked on the shadow in the middle of it. if the shadow weren’t there, if that mass weren’t reflected across the green of your grass, a body shaped black hole nestled between your trees, darker than the dead of night itself.
you can’t pull yourself from the window no matter how much your conscience begs you to. back away, it cries. lock your bedroom door and barricade it, pick up your phone and call the police. but you do none of those things, body frozen stock still in front of your bedroom window on the second floor of your newly renovated home.
it’s not like you don’t know the backstory behind the house you purchased. in fact, you went out of your way to find it, scoured countless websites of homes for sale in haddonfield when you finally decided renting there wasn’t enough anymore. your friends couldn’t talk you out of it, your family got tired of worrying over its black sheep. the realtor handed you the keys with a tight smile and guarded eyes. you knew what she thought of you right then and there, when you took the key from her hands with a growing grin and walked away with a pep in your step.
what type of person would buy this house? who in their right mind would ignore the dark history behind it? that’s what she was thinking.
you knew what house you bought.
you knew whose house you bought; that’s why you bought it after all. your boundless fascination with an old local family and their sinister little boy led you here, to the ill-fated seo home, and most importantly, whether it be by destiny or damnation, it led you to him.
it led him to you all the same.
it’s almost like his gaze is what locks you in place, the gaze you reciprocate without even seeing his eyes. your own are wide on your face, dry and burning because you can’t bring yourself to blink out of fear of the figure disappearing from your sight.
the figure, that shape. The Shape.
the mask he dons cuts straight through the darkness of the night, infamous white that’s grayed from years of wear, his navy coveralls. only with the help of the streetlight can you tell that his clothes are plastered with blood, dark maroon soaked into a shoulder, a side, a thigh.
it makes sense that he came back here. that he would seek the refuge of his childhood home after a night of hard work, after exhausting the body he dwells in. it makes sense that he would want to come home, but now, he finds you there. a stranger in the only home he’s ever known besides stark white walls and barbed wire fences. the slight tilt of head is the sole action that gives away his surprise despite how motionless he stands. something glints in his hand; pale moonlight reflects off of the surface of something sharp and unmistakably silver. something else, wet and dark and thick, drips from its bladed edge to stain the grass underneath a pair of heavy boots.
your breath finally catches up with you then, sputtering choppily through your lungs until you wheeze. you can feel the hair standing on the back of your neck, the tremble of your hands, the frantic rabbiting of your heart. despite your fascination with him, you never expected to see him like this. you never expected to see him at all, not really, you always assumed the notorious memory of changbin seo’s havoc on your sleepy town of haddonfield would remain as such. he’d rot away in an institution, and you’d be the lunatic living in his old family house, telling those ghost stories to squealing trick-or-treaters, to shithead teenagers who ding dong ditch the seo house like they’re trying to play with the boogeyman.
you should have known better than that. the devil is never finished with his work, and now he’s here for you.
yet he doesn’t move. he doesn’t come for you, doesn’t prowl his way across the stretch of grass to find an entrance into the house you’ve taken from him. he’s just as still as you are, watching. a predator stalking its prey, you’re a fly ensnared in a spider’s web, wound tight in the sticky silk of that endless, primordial black of his gaze.
you’d stay here all night memorizing the shape of him, The Shape itself, but he doesn’t hold the same sentiments. your eyes are burning — he’s still there when you force yourself to blink hard, still there as your eyes begin to water and tears start streaking down your face. his head tilts the other way. he surveys you, studies you like he’s looking at you underneath a microscope, a specimen squirming on its back, before straightening his head and backing into the shadows. you can see his figure walking across the sidewalk, his gait eerily slow and steady until he disappears behind the houses across the street like a fleeting apparition.
you slump into your desk chair with a frantic breath, almost like whatever was holding you in place has been snapped clean in half by the knife in his grip. your chest heaves, and you place your head in your hands. tear tracks stick to your blotched cheeks. you lift your head with a slightly crazed laugh, warm breath stuttering out of your mouth as viscous spit snaps between your teeth.
to the left of your window, newspaper clippings held to a cork board with thumbtacks and tape.
you don’t close your curtains that night. or the next.
you stop closing them all together, and your newfound routine of leaving your curtains open around the clock leads to an even bigger obsession of being seen. adrenaline fizzes in your gut like shaken carbonation at the nightly sight of that ominous form at the edges of your property, anticipation is the straw you drink it with. anticipation for what? the shhk of a knife plunging into your tender side? it would send no reaper or ferryman; death itself wields the weapon that steals the light from your eyes. morbid fascination of his actions aside, you don’t want changbin to kill you. you don’t want him to see you the way he sees the others; you want him to see you for what you are. someone different. someone safe.
so no, it’s not death that you’re anticipating, though you might should based on how unstable and unpredictable the object of your affections is. it’s a step closer to the home that calls to him, the broken glass of a smashed window in answer. changbin wouldn’t need to break anything to come inside. you’ve taken care of that already; the snick of your previously bolted windows, the loosening of their wood, porch light left on through the night. should you leave your extra key under the mat or keep the front door unlocked all together? maybe you can ask what he would prefer. maybe you won’t have to. all he has to do is come closer to find out.
yet he remains shrouded in darkness, a stationary figure beneath the trees illuminated only by a single streetlight. you won’t push your luck. you want to feed the rabid, stray dog, not scare it away with too much persistence.
so you keep to your routine, watching The Shape watch you until your eyes are dry and drooping, tossing and turning in your sleep when it manages to find you, that ever-present crawling sensation of being watched following you even into your dreams.
an old t-shirt you wear around the house takes the next step for you.
it’s been a quiet night, as peaceful as it can be with a masked man standing at the corner of your yard. it’s a constant thing, the way your eyes flit from your computer screen to the view outside, the shadow across your grass. you’re adjusting how you’re sitting at your desk underneath the window when the loose collar of your shirt dips down your shoulder. you tug it back up absentmindedly, a chill kissing your skin from the cool air of your bedroom.
slow movement out of the corner of your eye has your back stiffening ramrod straight. your hair stands on end, arms and legs pebbling with goosebumps.
“fuck…” you barely breathe the word, making sure your lips don’t curl around it like they normally would.
just as your eyes lock with his, those endless black holes carved into his mask, your shirt slips again. down your shoulder, baring your collarbone and the smallest hint of the swell of your breast.
you can’t bring yourself to blink, can’t bring yourself to lift the fabric back to its rightful place for a second time, not when he’s finally taken a step toward you. not out of the shadows, not all the way, but closer. closer than he’s been yet.
like he’s trying to get a good look at your newly uncovered skin.
“do you want to… see?”
it’s whispered again, gaze locked on the tilt of his head. your heart races. he’s killed people for less than this.
he’s killed people for more than this, you know that. several people, couples. women who started off with their t-shirt dipping down their shoulder just like you who wound up naked and writhing with a partner, so entangled in each other that they never saw the figure standing in their doorway or the glint of the knife raised above his head until it was too late.
is that what he’s thinking of now? what your body looks like under its clothes? how you’d use it for pleasure, yours or someone else’s? he’ll never find you with a man here, not when he’s the only man you ache for.
the dip of your ratty t-shirt doesn’t feel much like seduction to you, but to a man who’s only known confinement and solitude, a man who’s never felt the warmth and softness of a willing body, you must look scandalous. you feel scandalous. you feel desired with his eyes on you. you brought him closer after all. something hot and achy simmers in your belly at the thought.
you swallow hard then. the goosebumps ease away only to be replaced by a cold sweat; it drips down your temple and catches on a fluttering eyelash, salt dipping and expanding like an eyedrop when you go to blink it away. it stings, so you blink hard, and when you open your eyes again, the shadow of changbin seo is gone for the night.
“fuck!” it’s louder this time. confused, hurt. he wanted you, didn’t he? he was curious at least. wasn’t he? you stand up then, so quickly your chair rolls back on the carpet. you lift onto your tip toes to look all around your yard to no avail. “fuck, why’d you push it?”
upset with yourself, you rip off the shirt like you hate it. your shorts follow, panties next, stripping completely bare on your way to your bathroom to take a shower after procrastinating all night to spend more time with changbin. you open up the bathroom closet for a towel, and the shower curtain squeals on the rod when you push it to the back and turn your water as hot as it will go.
your nipples harden when you step under the spray and shut the curtain. smoothing your hair back from your forehead, you tilt your head back and let water soak your hair. it runs down your spine in rivulets, splattering against the shower floor until it swirls down the drain with a gurgle. the touch of your own hands is a silent comfort, nails against your scalp, gentle tugs of your hair to detangle it. soap slathered hands caress your body when you’re through with your hair.
you’re only human. it’s only natural. how would calloused hands feel in place of your own? a broad body behind you to lean against when the steam goes to your head. your hands slide down your stomach.
he’d smell of musk and blood, the water falling between your bodies turning pinky-brown and back to clear the longer you’d stand under the spray together.
when the soap is rinsed from your hand, you bring it between your legs. the touch would be rougher if it was his, with rugged palms and curious fingers. has he ever felt a cunt before? felt the stretch of a tight hole or the pulse of a sensitive clit? he can’t have. wouldn’t. yours will be the first he feels.
it’s easy to recall the feeling of those dark eyes on you, his attention so intense it feels like a physical touch every night.
you’re wet between your legs. it’s not from the steadily flowing water — this wetness is sticky and tart, and you dip your fingers into the opening of your clenching hole to coat the tips of them in it. your breath leaves your lungs in a heavy exhale at the first roll of your fingers over your clit. it’s not enough, even if the pressure on that tender place makes your knees wobble slightly. you press a hand against the shower wall and prop your leg on the lip of the tub. precarious. dangerous. one wrong move and you’re cracking your head on the tile. you’re not worried about falling; strong arms are locked around your waist even if only in the fantasy rotting your mind. hot lips on your neck, the metallic squeal of a knife blade being slid across the shower tile.
a whimper tears through your next heavy breath. you scramble for the removable shower head, skating your other hand across the tile until it reaches the nozzle to turn the heat of the water down. two twists of the head, two plasticky clicks drowned out by the new sound of jet streamed water, a concentrated flow right out of the middle. you spread your legs wider.
the warm stream teases your thighs first, accidental but not unwelcome, kissing the tender fat before you adjust your grip on the handle to turn it inwards even more. the first splash of water on your clit makes you keen, your empty hand slipping down wet skin to spread your puffy lips. you press your face to the wall and keen once more when your tits brush it too. your nipples pebble again as they brush the cool tile, and with your ear pressed to the wall, all you can hear is the hiss of the pipes, the echo of water hitting the basin of the bathtub, and your own pathetic cries.
it’s just too bad that you miss the creak of wooden floorboards outside the open bathroom door, or the slow twist of the knob on your bathroom closet. you don’t hear it ease open or click shut either, not when all you can hear is the sound of your own pleasure.
your wrist is cramping, your right leg is starting to shake, heel thumping on the lip of the tub sporadically. you adjust the stream again so that it hits your clit at an angle, bubbling water beating against it from below.
“please… please,” you beg. you vee your fingers wider so the water hits you more directly. your voice hitches, your toes curl. your imagination takes hold and runs wild — there’s an arm around your waist, a hand around your throat, a fat, heavy cock tucked snug against your behind. the scent of blood is so poignant that it’s like you can really smell its sharpness in the air, as if he’s really as close as you’re dreaming he is.
if you move the showerhead in small circles it almost, almost feels like the pressure from a rolling tongue. god, his tongue. changbin’s tongue, pink and slick. he wouldn’t know how to use it, but you’d show him how with fingers curled in his hair and bumping hips against his face. he’d have to take his mask off, and isn’t that a thought? you’d rut yourself against the latex nose of that infamous mask if you had to, but you’d rather see his face and feel the heat from his mouth. you’ve seen his mugshot, a copy tucked safely into a scrapbook on top of your desk. he has such pretty lips.
it’s with that thought that the heat in your stomach finally boils over. it builds in your belly and between your legs until it can’t anymore, and you cum with a warbled cry of death’s name, knees knocking and shower head clanking against the wall when your fingers rush to finish the job. your cunt pulses hotly, body jolting at almost the same rhythm until you finally give yourself a break. your fingers are pruny, your body freezing cold with the warmth of the shower spray trickling against the tile. you hang it back with shaky fingers and turn the water until it’s all the way hot again, sighing as the stream blankets your shivering body.
with your water finally turning lukewarm, you shut it off and ring your hair out lightly. the bathroom is fogged with steam when you push the shower curtain back and step out of the tub. you grab the towel from the counter to dry yourself off, wrapping it around your body before brushing your teeth and unwrapping it when you’re done to use on your hair on the short walk back to your bedroom. the towel gets tossed in your hamper as soon as you make it back, sparse water droplets cooling on your spine and dripping down your legs.
the thunk of your dresser drawer doesn’t cover up the slow creak of the floorboards behind you, and you swivel around with a sleep shirt tucked to your chest.
an empty hallway, still illuminated by the bathroom light you never turned off. you tuck your head through the hole of the shirt and sigh, frowning to yourself.
what were you expecting? a dark figure in your doorway? the brooding form of changbin seo standing between you and your only way out? a knife in his hand, a tilt to his head, his sights on you and no one else.
it’s only wishful thinking.
something wet touches your hand as soon as you grip the knob to close your front door. it’s late — much later than you usually step foot inside your house for the night courtesy of a work dinner that you couldn’t manage to get out of. a slow roll of your car into the driveway showed no sign of changbin beneath the trees, so you thought you missed him all together. a look down at your hand has you second guessing yourself.
red smears your palm, the unmistakable twang of iron fills your nose. your own fingerprints streak white through the bloody handprint on your doorknob. droplets of blood trail along the floor and lead only to your staircase. there’s another handprint on the wooden railing and a streak along the white wall, high enough from the steps for you to conclude it’s from a shoulder, like someone paused to rest against the wall before finishing their trek up the stairs.
it’s not just someone. you feel your stomach swoop with it. who else could it be?
“changbin?” you call. your voice teeters on the edge of frantic. he’s shown up bloodied before, coveralls smattered, butcher knife soaked, but it’s never brought him inside. it’s different this time. something is wrong.
you’re taking the stairs two at a time. the second floor of your home is dark; the lights you left on — the bedside lamp in your room, a night light in the hallway — have all been unplugged. the study to your left is empty from what little you can see, room only visible from the pale moonlight filtering through the glass panes of the window. your throat clicks when you swallow hard, and you turn to make your way to your bedroom.
the rush of heavy footfall intercepts you before you can get there. there’s a hand squeezing your neck, warm, wet liquid smears across the skin as your back hits the wall. your head follows suit, smacking the wood so hard that it bounces like a marble on the floor. something sharp digs into your side and pierces the skin. you’d feel white-hot pain clawing its way down your body if you weren’t so focused on how his hand feels around your neck.
he’s hurt. there are fingers missing from his hand.
it doesn’t stop him from lifting you up by his grip underneath your chin, and that’s when your vision starts to fade. black swims at the corner of your eyes, obscuring that old, worn mask you’ve dreamed about for so long, but once your hazy eyes settle on him you can’t look away even as the life slowly leaves your body. his eyes are as black up close as they were from across your yard.
black eyes. the devil’s eyes. words from a doctor who thought he knew changbin better than you could. i realized that what was living behind that boy’s eyes was purely and simply… evil.
looking into them now, the endless, black pits behind his mask, you realize now that he transcends every shallow word ever used to describe him. why should you judge a cat for killing a mouse? a lion for tearing into an antelope with its bloody, snapping maw. how could you ever cast judgement on changbin for doing what he does when it’s what he was made for? you understand him — you’re the only person who accepts him as he is, for what he was born to be.
you try to swallow but his hand is in the way, blocking the spit from sinking down your throat and choking you even further. your toes curl in your shoes. your eyes are starting to bulge.
“it’s okay,” you wheeze. “it’s okay, ‘s okay, ch’ngbin, you’re okay. you’re home now.”
he jostles you against the wall. your head knocks the corner of a picture frame but you hold in your wince. it’s then that you lift trembling hands to latch around his wrist. your grip is nothing compared to his, fingers weak from your lack of oxygen, but you’re not trying to push him away. you’re just holding him, thumb shakily stroking the sweaty, bloody skin peeking out from under the sleeve of his coveralls. changbin’s breath turns ragged under the mask at your touch. he jostles you again, squeezing your neck once before throwing you to the ground in a tangled heap of limbs. your knees hit the wood so hard you know they’ll bruise a nasty purple, tender skin scraping raw underneath your jeans, bones aching already.
you inhale your first available breath so deeply that it makes you cough, a gag working its way up your throat behind it. changbin watches you dry heave with an unnerving stillness, so completely motionless in front of you that he would fade into the darkness if it weren’t for the white of his mask. blood drips from his fingers and pools onto the floor by his boot, his chest heaves slowly.
“you’re hurt,” you wheeze. your throat stings around your words. “i can- can i help you?”
changbin doesn’t move. he doesn’t lend a hand to help you up when you brace your hand against the wall to try and stand on wobbly feet, beaten knees threatening to give out the moment you put pressure on them. it hurts to bend them, but it must hurt even worse to be missing the fingers on your hand, so you take a small step forward and look to him with open palms and a placating voice. you won’t spook the rabid dog tonight.
“there’s a first aid kit in my bathroom. i should have something to bind your hand with?” there’s nothing in his demeanor that tells you he’s listening to you or that he’s even going to let you past him unscathed, but the fact that he hasn’t cut your throat or pushed his thumbs into your eyes says something. “can you wait for me in my bedroom?”
you don’t wait for him to make a move first, instead, you brush past him as smoothly as you can while hobbling on sore legs. he’s still standing in place when you turn around to look at him, but he’s turned himself toward you now. it would scare you breathless if you were anyone else.
you cock your head at him, as he’s done to you so many times. your heart thrums in your chest. “go sit! i’ll be right there.” you shoo him with a shaking hand.
you’re half expecting that to be it, for him to stalk toward you with his knife raised and his boots heavy, but changbin surprises you once again by turning slowly and walking stiffly toward your bedroom. you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and flick on your bathroom light. the bulb buzzes for a moment before quieting down, and you take a moment to look into your mirror.
your eyes are bloodshot. faint bruises are already blooming on your neck; you watch your jaw drop in the mirror, turning your head from side to side to get a better look at changbin’s mark on you, his fingerprints branding your skin. they’ll undoubtedly look worse tomorrow — blue and purple and black — but what a blessing it is to wear them and still live to tell the tale, for now at least. what a blessing to be chosen in this way. the wobble of your tender knees tells you they’ll be just as bad as your neck in the morning.
the dark, growing stain on the side of your shirt reminds you that your neck and knees aren’t the only places that changbin has left his mark on tonight. your hands drop to the hem of your shirt, and you hiss when you lift it up, cotton fabric clinging and pulling at the shallow wound on your side. the skin around the cut is dark and hot and tender to the touch, blood still pooling at the gash when you press curious fingers to the skin around it. you lower your shirt with trembling hands and decide to worry about that later.
the closet door creaks slightly when you open it, and you rummage through toilet paper and cleaning supplies for the pink box containing your nearly untouched first aid kit. something else catches your eye before your first aid kit does, a gasp slips from your throat as you reach for the first towel folded on top of your pile. pink flowers and soft cotton meet maroon and dirt, fibers matting under your fingertips where it would usually be soft and smooth. you can tell just by the color that it’s blood that has dried into your unused bath towel. musk fills your nose as you lean closer to the towel, musk and stale blood and nature, and it hits you then that tonight isn’t the first night changbin has made his way into your house.
could it have been-? no, you surely would have heard him last night if he snuck inside and hid in your bathroom closet. right? but you opened the closet before your shower and would have seen the dirty towel sitting right there on the shelf. and- oh. you bite your lip. it’s a vague memory from the night before but clear enough to give you clarity. the scent of blood, pungent and sharp, filtered through the steam from your shower while you pleasured yourself. you were knee deep in a fantasy of him; you thought your imagination ran so wild that you could smell him.
you can’t keep him waiting any longer. it’s with renowned vigor that you reach for the medical kit hiding at the back of the shelf and shut the door when you’re done, leaving the dirtied towel where it sits like a trophy on a pedestal.
you pad toward your bedroom with a racing heart, gripping the handle of the box with tight knuckles.
changbin isn’t sitting on your bed when you find him, but he is standing in front of your corkboard. the light of the moon from your bedroom window shines a spotlight on cut-out articles detailing his most heinous crimes, his patient records from smith’s grove surrounded by hearts and stickers and flowers. a twinge of embarrassment burns your chest hot, but it’s gone before you can focus on it. he deserves to know someone still cares for him after so much time away. he deserves to know you care for him and how softly you’d do it.
“changbin,” you say. he gives no indication that he heard you, but he adjusts his grip on the knife held in his five-fingered right hand. “i’m going to turn the light on so i can see better, okay? just for a minute. so i can wrap your hand up.”
you see the cord from your bedside lamp laying on the ground, so you place the first aid kit on your bed and bend down to plug it back up. changbin is there to meet you when you stand to your full height and turn to face him. he moves so silently that his looming presence startles you more than the knife digging into your neck does, and your hands snap up to clutch onto his wrist for the second time that night. with the soft lamp-light cutting through the darkness of your room, you can finally see his real eyes behind the mask. endless black holes give way to a deep, chocolaty brown iris of one eye and a milky white of the other, a scarred gash running perpendicular through the injured eye. his stare is intense and more beautiful than you could have ever imagined.
he presses the knife to your neck harder and it knicks the tender skin under your ear, another mark his blade has kissed into your skin. you can feel the blood beading at the cut and sliding down your neck — changbin’s good eye follows the trail until it pools into the collar of your shirt.
“it’s okay,” you breathe once more. your fingers squeeze his wrist. “it’s okay. it’s okay, i swear. i only want to help, i don’t- it won’t take long to bandage up and then i’ll turn the lights off again, i promise.”
changbin’s chest heaves. he digs the blade of his knife into your skin hard one last time until you’re whimpering in pain. only when your face shrivels up does he release the pressure, but he doesn’t go far and neither does his butcher knife. he tilts his head to the side and keeps his eyes locked on yours before rearing back to pierce the blade of his knife into the wall. it’s deep enough that it sticks in place on its own, handle protruding mere inches from your face.
your lashes flutter. pitiful, sparkling eyes look into his as your mouth drops open slightly, and changbin regards your awe-stricken expression with a lone blink. he takes a step back from you then, and another, and your mattress creaks when he promptly sits down on the corner of it.
it takes a moment to get your bearings straight — for the breath to fill your lungs again and for your eyes to refocus on your surroundings. changbin’s injured hand twitches where it’s resting over a thick thigh, and his eyes raise towards yours.
“oh. oh, sorry. here, yeah. let me.”
you open the first aid kit and ruffle through its contents. bandaids, medical tape, advil. you find the roll of gauze and a bottle of saline before easing onto your bruised knees.
“can i…?” you ask softly, beckoning toward his hand. he doesn’t move, but he doesn’t lunge at you again, so you take his stillness as the go ahead to start working. changbin’s hand is soaked with blood and hot to the touch, and your stomach rolls with nausea for the first time that night. your spit gets thinner, curdling in your stomach as you swallow. jagged pieces of flayed skin surround protruding meat and severed bone, his ring and pinky fingers missing at the bottom knuckle. “oh, god, what happened?”
he’s not going to answer you and you know it. the only thing you do know is that this injury wasn’t from a knife — this was no smooth cut. did he get them caught in something? was he shot?
the scent of saline burns your nose when you snap the bottle cap open, but it’s not nearly strong enough to overpower the cloying scent of iron and musk. with a trip to haddonfield memorial hospital out of the question, you and your lack of medical knowledge are his only other option. you remember saline-soaked cloths from childhood, your mother holding onto your kicking legs as she applied gentle pressure to a nasty scraped knee to clean the wound. this is the best you can do for him.
“it’s- it’s probably going to sting,” you try. your cheeks feels hot with embarrassment again — of course it stings — he’s missing two fingers, a little saline is the least of his problems.
you squeeze the liquid saline onto a cloth tucked into the med kit. it darkens when the clear liquid soaks into the middle, and you brace yourself for bringing it to the two empty spaces at the far edge of his hand. changbin doesn’t hiss or shout or groan at the first touch of the cloth, it’s you instead, gasping in shock like you’re the one experiencing his pain for him. his body remains still, his eyes locked onto where you touch him. dark blood seeps through the cloth, but hopefully the pressure you’re applying over the spaces of his missing fingers gives the saline a chance to sterilize his wound. the pressure from your own hand slows the bleeding from his so much that you’re able to work with the gauze next.
changbin’s heavy breathing and the rip of the gauze away from the roll are the only sounds filling your bedroom until you speak up again.
“here, almost done. i’ll just wrap this around your hand, okay?” from your place on your knees, you glance up at him to find him already looking back at you. it’s a position you’ve dreamed of, just under different circumstances. his coveralls laying haphazardly on the floor, his knees spread, his hand in your hair while you mouth at his cock. the look in his eyes right now matches the look he always gives you in your wildest fantasies — heavy, intense, dark. it’s not too different, now that you think about it. your mouth may not be on his fattened cock, he might not be naked and hard and hot, the mask might not be resting on the nightstand, but you’re serving him this way, and he’s letting you do it. your cunt clenches.
you use your thumb to hold the end of the gauze against his wrist and drag the material up and over the spaces of missing fingers, repeating the process until the gauze is wrapped thick around his hand. a piece of self adhering tape gets wrapped around it next to keep the gauze in place.
“there, all done.” you settle back on your heels with a shy smile. “you‘re a good patient.”
his eyes drag from yours down to the wrap around his hand. it’s the first hint of true cognizance you’ve seen tonight, the first hint of personality. changbin lifts his left hand and flexes the three remaining fingers on it, surveying the work you’ve done.
and he’s up before you know it, standing so abruptly before you that it sends you onto your haunches.
“wait! wait,” you beg. you grab onto his pant leg like that could ever keep him from leaving, a risky move with him standing above you. you’d be ashamed of yourself if you weren’t so desperate to keep him for even the smallest moment longer, pleading on your knees for his attention like you have no dignity left. changbin tilts his head and breathes low, regarding you with unreadable eyes. “last night. last night, you came inside, right? while i was in the shower? you heard something. heard me? i… said your name. i’m sorry. sometimes i just- i think of you, i can’t help it.”
your grip loosens on the leg of his pants and you slump onto your hip, exhausted by your own honesty. blood has dripped onto the rug underneath your bed, and you drag your finger through the wet stain. the tip of it comes away tinted. what’s one more ounce of honesty? the presence of death emboldens you despite the fact that you don’t know what’s coming next. your rabid, stray dog. will he eat the food you’ve left for him or knock the bowl over?
your knees throb when you lift up onto them to heave yourself up fully. you’ll be brave and say it to his face, square your shoulders and stand level with The Shape so he knows you’re telling him the truth. a peace offering before your final blow — the lamp is unplugged again, just like you promised, shrouding the two of you in moonlit darkness. you reach for his knife next, black handle sticky with blood and still protruding from your wall, keeping the blade angled toward your own body when you pull it free so you can present the handle to him like a gift.
“i would have been louder if i knew you were listening.”
the silence is electric. his fingers graze yours when he reaches for his blade, his touch cold, the first chill of fall after a grueling summer heat. the knife settles into his hold like it belongs there, and changbin’s gaze flickers to the drying blood pooling in your neckline before he turns toward the door.
the floorboards creak under his weight, his boots heavy. he leaves you behind in the darkness and doesn’t look back, steps even and calculated as he descends the stairs and out the front door into the night like he was never there, the only sign of his presence being the blood soaking into your floor, the hole in your wall, and your own beguiling cuts and bruises.
his absence drains you, but it doesn’t discourage you like it did last night. it excites you more than anything now; something tells you this won’t be the last time the boogeyman lets himself into your home.
rabid or not, you might just tame the dog yet.
you can’t sleep.
you’ve tossed and turned for what feels like hours, bedside clock making you huff in annoyance every time you glance over to see another thirty minutes has gone by.
it’s because of changbin and you know it. it’s been a week since the night you helped him, since he finally heeded your invitation to come inside, but you’ve only seen him outside your bedroom window since, making eyes at him across your property as you do every night in the hopes to entice him again. you ache even more now for him to come back inside, to help himself to the home you saved for him and help himself to you, but he sticks to his own schedule, not yours.
if you’re honest with yourself, you’re almost upset with him. a look out of your window showed no sign of changbin’s silhouette before bed; you sat at your desk for so long waiting for him that you almost fell asleep right there. and now here you are, restless and agitated without your nightly fix.
jealousy flares hot in your gut. is there someone else? is hunting more important than seeing you? if that’s the case then he should hunt you instead, kill two birds with one stone — a game of cat and mouse that ends with you cornered and trapped, the tip of his knife digging into your back and his cock digging into your cunt.
you kick the blanket off of your legs with a heavy sigh and wet panties. always wet, always sticky. your pussy has a mind of its own where changbin is involved, a dripping mess at the mere thought of being watched by him, being taken and kept. your fingers creep to the hem of your underwear without a second thought, dipping under the band and dragging through hair that turns sticky and spiked the closer you get to your center. a shaky sigh then as your legs spread wider and a finger nudges your clit, circling the little bud until it tingles under the attention.
it’s easy to get lost in your own body. you warm up to your touches in no time, spreading yourself with your fingers and arching into the feeling. the elastic of your panties digs into the crease of your thighs when you spread your legs, so it’s an easy decision to kick them off as well. you can move more freely like this, your wrist won’t cramp as badly. an airy sigh keened toward the ceiling, toes curling into the rumpled sheets. nudging the hood of your clit back to feel the shock of your own touch makes you writhe.
“god.” your voice is ragged. you claw at the tender flesh of your inner thigh, digging desperate fingers into the skin. back arching, nipples hardening under your sleep shirt, you work yourself silly until you’re grinding up into your fingers. slick noises fill your bedroom and heat your cheeks, and you’re just starting to fantasize of a big, muscular body sliding between your spread legs when another noise cuts through the haze.
your heart lurches in your chest at the first sound of creaking wood. it’s only by the grace of the moonlit sky that you see the door to your bedroom closet cracking open slowly, old wooden slab squealing on its hinges as it opens wider and wider. you hold your breath then, your fingers lock in place where they sit between your thighs. a white mask cuts through the dark inside of your closet, the glint of a knife catches the moonlight and reflects it across the floor.
with two heavy steps, The Shape is standing fully in your room. his eyes roam the darkness, taking in the four walls of your bedroom before ever landing on your body. his breathing is hard, his chest heaving. he takes another step forward and your fingers twitch between your legs.
“you came back,” you breathe, breaking the heavy silence that has fallen between the two of you. just how long has he been here? “you came home again.”
with a hammering heart, you scoot yourself back slightly on your pillow to make more room for him in the bed. changbin doesn’t budge, he stands unmoving in the middle of your room and keeps his eyes locked on you. it’s too dark — you can’t see exactly what he’s looking at, whether he’s looking into your eyes or at how your pebbled nipples peak through your thin shirt. maybe his gaze has fallen to the space your hand is barely covering between your legs.
how much can you push that wild dog you love so much? how much will he let you take without the consequence of a snarling bite? your honesty from days prior didn’t drive him away like you worried about, it brought him to you again, and bolder this time. death inspires you once more; you can be bold again too.
you squeeze your legs shut around your hand and angle them toward him. his head tilts at the movement, gaze catching on your bare legs.
“i missed you.” his head snaps up then. as always, motivated by his eyes on you, your fingers move again, slight enough to keep your noises at bay, but with just enough pressure to feel. not everything is quiet, muted click-click-clicks pierce the air as you circle your fingers slowly, sticky wetness gathered around them while you waited. you sigh then, heavy and needy. “i missed you so much.”
it’s then that he takes another step forward, another, until he’s standing at the corner of your bed. it’s then too that you spread your legs for him, shivering slightly at the air that hits warm, tacky skin. you bite your bottom lip and watch him watch you, the unnerving tilt of his head and the expressionless face of the mask driving you mad with want.
his grip on the knife loosens, and he leans slightly to rest it on the bed beside your legs. you’re expecting him to stand there until he’s bored of you; you’re not expecting him to slowly round the corner of your bed and lower himself to your mattress. he sits by your right foot almost primly, his back straight and hands in his lap. your bed squeaks under the added weight, once more when he angles his body toward you and ducks his chin to where your fingers are moving.
if he wants a show, you’ll give him one. with a barely hidden smile, your fingers speed up on your clit. you haven’t dipped them inside yet, you won’t, you’ll save that for him, save yourself in the hopes that soon enough he’ll deem you worthy enough of what hangs between his legs.
up and to the side, right on the corner of that swollen little bud is where you like it the most. a good brush of your fingers has your eyes fluttering and your jaw dropping low. your reaction piques his curiosity — changbin cranes his neck forward somewhat and grabs your wrist harshly, three fingers digging into tender flesh and bone. he wrenches your hand away from your cunt and you cry out, the combination of his strong grip and the sudden loss of pleasure making you whine.
with your legs spread and your hand out of the way, there’s nothing covering your cunt from his calculating eyes. you can see them now that he’s closer, deep brown and pearl white, angled down toward your center. you’re wet for him, you pulse and clench for him, and he sees it all. you’ve never felt as vulnerable as you do now. he’s watched you before, he’s heard you, but not like this.
“you’re- you’re staring!” you whine. his grip remains firm on your wrist, and his other hand moves to hold you roughly by the thigh as soon as you try to snap your legs closed again. there’s no way you can close them now with him holding you the way he is, but despite your shyness, you don’t think you want to close them when you’ve got him this ensnared.
your thighs tremble; your hips arch and roll in search of pleasure, desperation sinks bone deep with changbin’s eyes locked on the glistening folds of your achy cunt. it’s all too much — his touch, his attention on your most intimate place. your arm goes lax under his grip around your wrist and you moan. “will you touch me more? please?”
changbin doesn’t move, three fingers around your wrist and five curled at the pit of your bent knee. he may have you in his clutches, but you still have one unrestricted hand, and it trembles when you lift it from the mattress. you lift your leg too so that you can snake your hand down your body and reach for his, fingertips trailing softly over busted knuckles and rough skin. you moan again at the way death finally yields to you — you’re not expecting him to be receptive to your touch, but he lets you clutch onto his fingers and guide them down to your tender pussy.
the first touch of his fingertips brings a deep arch to your back. you push your hips into the feeling to chase the friction you crave so much, your own grasp locking around his wrist to keep his hand still for you to use.
“that- that little bump, do you feel it?” you ask. your chest is heaving unevenly. you know he has to feel it, the pads of his rough digits are pressed right to your buzzing clit. your grip goes to his fingers to guide them in a slow rub over it. “keep touching me there. rub me there and i’ll cum for you again. please, i really want to.”
you feel the moment changbin gets fed up with your guiding, you can feel as soon as he takes control of the hand you’re holding because yours gets pinned to the mattress. he squeezes your wrist once in warning as if to tell you to keep it there. greedy fingers go right back to your cunt like they never left — he wants to do it himself, learn you on his own terms while you take what he gives. you can tell he’s never done this before, but what he lacks in knowledge he makes up for in deep curiosity, swiping through slick folds and waiting until you react to try something else.
pinches to our puffy outer lips, a shallow dip into your hole. the friction from his dry fingers makes your toes curl; it has your clit so sensitive, but the longer he touches you the more his fingers slick up with your juices, the more sure he becomes with the motions of his hand.
changbin returns his focus to your clit with a vigor that gets you squealing. you twitch, and he unhands your wrist to press down on your belly. he doesn’t like the thrashing — it frustrates him — you can tell by the quickened breathing from under the mask and the strength he’s using to hold you down. you’ll listen as long as he keeps touching you the way he is. you’ll be good; changbin is so graciously giving you a gift, doing you a favor, so you’ll be still and take it.
“baby,” you cry, a slip up that you can’t help. his eyes snap up to yours but go right back down to his hand at your pussy. “changbin, oh, that’s perfect.”
if you were touching yourself, you’d be at the point where you would be bucking into your own fingers and chasing the heat that’s burning between your legs. it feels deeper this way, concentrated and less frantic, a slow climb to a steep fall. with you forcing your lower body to cooperate with changbin’s wants, your hands grow restless at your sides. they slip your shirt up your trembling body to expose your chest, nipples pebbling once they’re bared to changbin’s gaze and the pale moonlight surrounding him. you squeeze your breasts in your hands, pinch your nipples roughly until your lip wobbles.
it’s not enough. you want to cry, so overwhelmed by changbin between your legs and rubbing your clit with such insistent fingers. his rhythm changes every time your belly starts to clench, and all he does is tilt his head at your pathetic cries. you’re brushing your hands back down your body when your fingers graze past something that sends a shock through your system. a stab of pain, the sharpness of a stainless steel kiss.
changbin’s palm rolls over your clit just as you dig shaky fingers into the tender skin around the gash on your side. you remember it like it was yesterday, the first night you truly shared together, the burn of his blade cutting into your side.
“ohmygod.” you press into the healing wound, feel the ridges of the scab against your fingertips. “oh! oh, that’s- fuck, changbin, i’m cumming, yeah, ‘m gonna- mmm!”
your head pops up so you can watch him, your eyebrows furrowed and mouth dropped open. changbin’s eyes have fallen to where you’re clawing at the broken skin of your side. does he remember that night as fondly as you do?
does he finally realize that you’re different? that the icy sting of his knife doesn’t scare you like it does the others he hunts. it doesn’t make you scream in terror or beg for your life.
it makes you cum.
changbin makes you cum, pussy fluttering around nothing as your clit pulses and pulses against his calloused palm. his three-fingered hand is still pressing you down by the stomach, so you have no choice but to feel your orgasm fully as it finally bursts under his attention. your thighs shake, your toes curl, and changbin presses his palm to you harder until your knees are knocking at his shoulders.
but he keeps going. he doesn’t slow down, gives you no time to breathe or come down from your orgasm before he’s chasing you to another one that your body isn’t just yet ready for.
“s-s-slow,” you try. there’s nowhere to go, not with his hand pressing you down, his strength gives you no room for wriggling out from under his touch. a squeal leaves your lips and you reach both of your hands down to grab onto his one, tugging hard to pull it away from your tender cunt. you don’t give him the time to get frustrated with your sudden act of defiance because you bring his fingers to your mouth before he can, thick and tangy on your tastebuds with your essence. clutching onto his wrist, you suck the wetness from his fingers and take your time memorizing how his fingerprints feel on your tongue. you slip them from your mouth with a pop and lap at the tips. “it gets so sensitive after i cum... i need a little bit of a break until i can go again.”
you suck two of his fingers back into your mouth with ease, pausing under the second knuckle to look up at him with wide, pleading eyes. you don’t have to pull them into your mouth any further because changbin does it for you instead, pushing his fingertips to the back of your throat and making you gag around them. he’s almost petting your tongue; he curls them slightly so you taste him all the way.
spit strings the two of you together when he removes them from your mouth. you’re wet down to your chin, and your eyes follow his hand all the way back down to your pussy.
you did tell him you needed a little bit of time, but you didn’t think he’d be this eager to touch you there again.
“okay, okay… okay,” you breathe. you sit up on your elbows then to watch. changbin’s eyes stay locked on yours, hand hovering almost tentatively over your center like he’s waiting for your instruction. “gentle, okay? y-yeah. that little bump, remember? ‘s my clit. don’t touch it yet… just… around it. you can- oh, god.”
wet fingers find your pussy again, skirting around your clit to familiarize himself with everything else he can touch. you’re still twitching and curling in on yourself, so changbin bullies your leg to the side with a three-fingered grip. you’re trying so hard to stay still, but even through sparks of oversensitivity you feel bubbling pleasure. his touch is so much. you’ve ached to feel it for so long.
changbin dips lower then, all the way to your clenching hole, but his fingers slip back up. he doesn’t know how to touch you there. you’ll have to tell him.
“put them inside of me.” it’s whimpered this time, voice unsteady as your throat clicks. changbin’s fingers prod at your hole as soon as you give him permission. he slides them in slowly, for his own benefit, not yours, feeling the silky warmth and gummy walls hugging his two digits, a sensation you’re sure he’s never felt before. changbin familiarizes himself with you that way, easing two fingers all the way inside before he stops completely.
the stretch burns. of course the stretch burns, but it feels okay soon enough. changbin’s fingers feel just okay, and you focus on the way his breathing quickens underneath his mask, the way a voyeur moon highlights the breadth of his shoulders. his fingers feel okay, and then they feel good, so good, a syrupy descent into a different kind of pleasure than he made you feel before.
but he’s still not moving his fingers; you’re starting to get antsy, speared open and vulnerable with his fingers hooked inside of your cunt.
“can- can you move them?” you reach down again, and changbin watches your hands find his. in and out, in and out, an easy demonstration and easy enough instructions. your thumb caresses the vein in his wrist as you fuck yourself with his fingers. “just like that. just like that, and. and, curl them? curl them up, baby, when you get all the way inside. that’ll make me feel really good.”
he fucks you with no rhythm for the first few minutes, something that makes you tug at your own hair to self-regulate when you want to thrash and kick. he’s studying you, studying his own movements because he’s never done anything like this before, but he curls his thick fingers just like you told him to when he plunges them inside. the lack of rhythm doesn’t mean that he’s not making you feel good; the curl of his fingers against your g-spot still sends punches of pleasure down your body and deep into your gut.
the longer he fingers you, the more he learns what it is that you like. changbin is calculated, his movements firm and finally steady once he realizes that certain things make you moan and whimper and cry.
your clit begs for attention now that the focus isn’t on it. it’s an indecisive little thing, aching when it’s touched too much but throbbing when it’s not touched at all. changbin is so focused on the way you’re wrapped around his fingers that you don’t think he’ll notice when you slip your own fingers down to rub at that swollen little button, but he snatches your hand away as soon as you try.
you cry out then, a cry of defeat more than a cry of pain, but he tilts his head at you like you’re the one in the wrong.
“you can touch it now!” begging, begging, begging. “please, please! changbin, it feels so good, it feels good, i just need- i need-”
you can’t get your thoughts together. you’re starting to tremble again, squirming like you can’t help it, writhing in search of a touch you want so badly.
there’s a firm hand around your throat and a bulky body above you now. his fingers still spear you open, but the angle is different like this. like this, with him leaning over you, his rough palm rests against your clit like it did earlier. you rut into his touch once and three fingers tighten around your neck. white-hot pain, white-hot pleasure — his thumb digs into his other mark that his knife kissed into your neck nights prior.
he hasn’t cut off your airflow completely, but you struggle under the weight of his hand. you can feel the pressure building in your head, your eyelids lowering, but most of all, you feel the way he curls his fingers into that special spot you like so much and the rub of his palm against your pulsing clit. over the ragged sound of your own breathing is the loud squelch of your hungry cunt. you’re soaking his hand and the sheets below you without a doubt.
even through the expressionless mask, changbin looks wild above you. his eyes wide, pupil dilated in his one brown eye. his breathing is just as ragged as yours, and if you listen closely, you can just barely make out the airy little grunts that are muffled behind the latex.
“good boy,” you praise, voice tight as it claws out from under his hand. “y’re such a good boy, changbin, fuck. fuck, ‘m’nna cum again, gonna make me cum again, baby.”
your mouth drops open as you do. your body tenses, your cunt clamps down on his fingers to keep them inside. you clutch pitifully at his coveralls and cum silently, robbed of air and so taken by euphoria that you don’t find your voice until you’re nearly done cumming, finally heaving a frantic cry of his name after your toes have started cramping from curling so hard.
changbin removes his fingers then and lifts them to his face. he turns his hand and watches your juices seep down the digits front to back, mesmerized by the shine and the way you’ve pruned up his fingertips.
he stands abruptly then. your legs flop uselessly onto the bed, and you watch him pick up his knife again, biting your lip at the glint of steel that shines in the darkness of your bedroom.
he’s hard in his coveralls. it’s a mouthwatering realization, that his body reacted to yours, that he wants you as badly as you want him, but you know better than to push too much when he’s not the one initiating.
you know better now — you’ll let it fester under his skin until he comes back to you and takes what he wants. you’ll wait for him.
The Shape watches you curl onto your side with a sated breath, underwear still kicked to the side and hidden under rumpled sheets, sleep shirt laying askew on your body. you take a look at his glistening fingers and huff a tired laugh through your nose.
“don’t let it dry up, okay? taste your fingers when you leave so you can remember me.” changbin squares his shoulders and turns around, slow steps retreating to your bedroom door. “i’ll see you soon, changbin.”
the thud of changbin’s heavy boots lulls you to sleep, a ruinous lullaby as he descends your stairs once again.
it’s the best sleep you’ve gotten in a week.
he doesn’t make you wait again, not like the last time. in fact, you haven’t seen changbin outside in days. you come home from work to find him in your house the next night, and the night after that. an interruption in your normal routine doesn’t have to mean something negative.
you can’t help but think it’s better like this. the sight of him looming across your yard was exciting on its own, but having him inside is different. changbin’s presence inside of your home makes it feel fuller. you’re meant to be there together instead of separate. after all, this was his house before it ever was yours.
changbin stands so still that you might miss him if you weren’t actively looking for him.
he’s standing at the window of his sister’s old room, a room you’ve hardly touched after buying the house. it’s dusty and stale, with cobwebs tucked into ceiling corners and windowsills.
you don’t bother him just yet, deciding to head to your own bedroom to shuck off your work shoes and unclip your bra, only shuffling your way back to his sister’s room after you’ve slipped into something more comfortable. changbin gives you no acknowledgement as you lean against the doorframe, but you know he can see you through the reflection of the window.
“changbin,” you coo. he lifts his hand to rest his knife on the windowsill. “welcome home.”
you wonder what it is about the window that calls to him so loudly, what he sees when he stands there. you don’t think he’s looking out into your sleepy little neighborhood or watching the wind snatch the leaves from the trees, no, it’s something deeper than that. something that can keep him rooted in place for hours on end.
changbin doesn’t react when you pad forward and take the spot next to him. it’s a quiet night; the streetlight flickers at the edge of your property. you can’t see much other than your own reflection and the moon above, and maybe that’s just it. your gaze slips sideways to find changbin’s in the window, his eyes boring straight ahead as if he’s looking deep into his own reflection.
what does death see when it surveys itself? what does the boogeyman see in his own eyes? an origin, a lost self. you’re not sure if you’ll ever know the answer. but as long as changbin returns home, as long as changbin returns to you, it’s not something you’ll worry yourself with knowing.
the man himself pulls you out of your own wistful reverie with a three-fingered grip on your hip. when you look up, you find his eyes on you, his head tilted toward yours for the first time that evening. he bullies you with rough hands until you’re standing in front of him, body pressed boldly to the dense width of his. he’s so warm, so sturdy and muscled that it sends an instant pang of arousal down to your belly. there’s something thick and hard prodding at the bottom of your spine when you press yourself to him; a wet gasp leaves your mouth, and changbin’s left hand snaps to your chin to hold you in place. he jostles your head until you’re looking straight forward, looking together at your shared reflection in the window.
his chest heaves against your back, his breathing muffled by your ear through his mask. you don’t know what changbin looks for in the window but maybe you can help him find it.
it’s easy to press yourself onto his bulge, just as easy to hold his unwavering eye contact. even if he didn’t have your chin gripped firmly in his hand, you still wouldn’t want to look away. you don’t know what changbin sees when he looks at his reflection, but if there’s one thing you can help him discover, it’s that even destruction deserves something that will persevere in its presence. a soft touch, a supple body that gravitates toward him like a wilting flower bows to the ground.
changbin ruts forward clumsily. you answer by arching into him and steadying your hands on the windowsill. you can press yourself into him harder that way, angle your hips to give him something sweet to grind against.
the uneven kick of his hips tells you everything you need to know: you’re the first person he’s done this with. you’re the first person to feel his cock and the first person to ever give his body pleasure.
changbin’s stare is unwavering. even through the window you feel it, his seeing eye searching your face and his own, shunting your body forward where you stand as his hips work against the globes of your ass and your cotton-soft pants.
“yes,” you plead. you bite your bottom lip, suck the drool threatening to spill from it back into your mouth. you feel the muscles tensing in his arm when you grab onto it to steady yourself once more, fingers clutching onto his navy coveralls like a tether. “oh. god, yes, fuck me like that.”
even over your clothes it’s good, his rocky movements aside, the fat tent of his cock feels mind numbing when it mashes up against your clit. the growing wetness between your legs clings the loose cotton tight to your cunt. your back bows again, you tilt your hips. like this the pressure is just right, like this you could cum, the constant, repeated stimulation to your buzzing clit along with the friction from your pants.
your leg is starting to shake. changbin braces himself behind you, drags the toe of his heavy boot under your foot so it doesn’t thump against the floor and send you off balance. his right arm wraps around your waist as the other stays snug in your grasp, your chin held just as snugly in his warm hand. you’re caged like this, curled over protectively, blanketed by a body that’s stronger than yours and held in place to be dry fucked until your eyes roll in your head.
“you make me feel so good, y’re so perfect to me. are you gonna watch? y’re gonna… make me cum for you again.” your mouth hardly moves, words muffled by the three fingers cupping your chin. you squeeze his wrist. changbin’s eyes haven’t moved despite the frantic kick of his hips, locked on your glassy, pleasure-stricken visage. his breath comes quickly, muffled under his mask but no less animal, shaky and uneven as he takes his own pleasure from your willing body.
changbin’s errant thrusts turn into a dirty, deep grind. the bow of your back is so pronounced that it hurts, but it only spurs you on, pushes you that much further to your peak.
the moment his clothed cock grinds into your clit, you’re cumming with a cry of his name. changbin holds you still and in place because that’s how he likes you, arms clutching your body hard as you slump forward on shaky legs.
he slows down then. you don’t know why until it hits you that he must remember your words from the night before, how you get sensitive after you cum, how you have to wait a few minutes, and god, if you didn’t ache for him before.
you turn around in his burly embrace, all wobbling knees and clenching stomach, your shaky arms lifting until they’re wrapped around his shoulders. only then do his eyes lower from the window, only then does he look into your eyes without a reflective barrier. your nose brushes the nose of the mask, your own eyes flutter and raise to look into his. the matted hair of the mask is rough under the tips of your fingers.
he smells of latex and musk when you lean in to press your lips to the mask. it’s only a semblance of a kiss — there’s no give of parted lips or the slick heat of tongue, but your heart still hammers in your chest over it. your arms wind tighter around his shoulders and curl over his neck. you deepen the kiss as best you can, part your lips and dart your tongue to taste what he’s allowing you to taste. you pull away with a smack and press your forehead to his chin, then your nose to his latex cheek. your fingers fumble with the collar of his coveralls.
“i want to make you feel good now,” you breathe. changbin stiffens when you wrap your fingers around the zipper, but he doesn’t snatch your hand away. he doesn’t reach for his knife sitting only inches from you. “can i take it off? can i kiss you more? please. please, changbin, baby, please.”
you lift your head then to watch his eyes. his hackles lower at the eye contact, his shoulders loosen, and that’s as good of an answer as any.
the sound of the zipper cuts through the sound of your shared heavy breathing. you pull it slowly so it doesn’t spook him, opening the torso of his coveralls to show a white singlet underneath.
he smells stronger like this. changbin’s musk fills your nose and you moan quietly, tugging at the collar to bare his shoulders for you to see. you knew he was muscular, but seeing him like this… he’s mouthwatering. his deltoids are firm and bulging, what little of his biceps you can see look the same. he’s surprisingly sunkissed and has scars littered around his skin. his cock is still hard where it nudges your hip, and it kicks at the first press of your lips to his shoulder.
changbin’s skin is so warm; it’s so soft under the clothes he wears. no wonder his scars refuse to leave him. a bruised, ripe fruit, supple under your greedy lips. if this is damnation so be it. he’s the serpent, the apple, and the garden all in one.
the first taste of him on your tongue almost sends you to your knees. it’s different from sucking on his fingers, more intimate even. you kiss the skin deeply, parting your lips and laving your tongue along the ridge of muscle just to repeat with the other side. his chest comes after that, the singlet dipping low to show the twin bulges of his pecs and the valley between them. your tongue catches on cotton when you lick up the valley and all the way to the neck of the mask, desperate to taste any part of him you can.
your lips follow the descent of his coveralls. every inch of skin that reveals itself to you is greeted with a kiss, and when you pull away from him to drop down to your knees, changbin’s hand curls frantically in your hair and yanks you back into him like he’s afraid you’re going to leave. despite the ache in your scalp and the sting of tears in your eyes… you coo. he’s sweet, learning to be greedy for your touch just like you are for his.
you nuzzle your chin and cheeks into the fabric of his singlet, his belly taut and heaving. “i’m right here. i’m here, ‘m not going anywhere.”
changbin’s grip eases in your hair only slightly, but it gives you enough leeway to slowly lower yourself onto your still-bruised knees. the waistline lightly cinches his waist, navy sleeves drop and sway at his knees when you pull his arms from them. you can hear changbin’s unsteady breathing through the mask, and you swear it stops completely when you drag the zipper over the tent of his cock, his boxers visibly soaked through where he bulges the cotton.
the legs of his coveralls fall to his boots with a fwump, leaving toned thighs and tanned legs on display.
your lashes flutter. you trail your eyes up his body and all the way to his eyes, making sure to look into them as you lean forward to nuzzle him again, this time caressing his cock with the softness of your cheek. an airy moan leaves your lips at the first touch to him. he’s boiling hot under the cotton of his worn boxers, precum seeps through the fabric and cools your cheek where you rub him. with your eyes locked on his, you slip your fingers under the elastic band and pull them down enough to bare his pubic mound. you kiss that too, openmouthed and hot, lips sticking to his sweaty skin even as you pull his boxers down further. down over his hips, down over his cock until it springs up like a weapon to bump your chin.
his underwear pools on top of his bunched coveralls, and you finally lean back on your haunches to see him in all his glory.
he’s gorgeous like this, beaten and bruised and strong, his aura still intense even as he stands over you with his pants around his ankles and his cock throbbing wetly. he’s dark and thick between the legs with a sweet pink tint at the head, and it bobs in the air like it’s happy to see you, his sac hanging heavy and full enough to make your mouth water.
“baby,” you breathe. “baby.”
he’s bitter when you taste him, tongue lolling out of your mouth to drag up his base and all the way to his leaking tip. his hand twitches in your hair and you sink down on him. with his fingers tangled in your hair, you can hardly bob your head, but all that does is make the desperation simmering in your belly bubble over, rocking your hips into nothing and whining around the head of his cock. you hollow your cheeks to suck him in, bat your tongue against the underside.
you smooth your hands up and down his thighs before wrapping your thumb and forefinger around the base to hold him closer to you, jutting your chin to take him further into your mouth. he’s so thick that he stretches the corners and brings a satisfying ache to your jaw.
changbin realizes soon enough that he can use his hold on your hair to aid you, so that’s exactly what he does. with your hair in a fist, changbin pulls you off of him until you’re puckering your lips against his weeping head. he likes it; he tilts his hips and bumps his cock higher where it nudges your nose, your lips kissing the crown and down the base just in time for him to push you back down. changbin’s hips twitch in aborted movements like he can’t stand still with your throat hugging him tight and your tongue caressing his underside. spit bubbles past your stretched lips soon enough, coating your chin and slicking his cock. the noise is sinful, your cunt throbs, and changbin’s thighs are tensing under your fingers.
it doesn’t take him long to cum, not when it’s the first time he’s ever had a mouth on him. he bucks his hips unevenly until you’re gagging, eyes watering as they look up at him. changbin’s cum is sharp and bitter. you hold it on your tongue to savor it for just a moment longer, slowly blinking your clumped lashes when you open your mouth to show his cum cupped in the cradle of your tongue. he watches you swallow it with wide eyes.
one lone tear trickles down your face as you swallow, and changbin removes his hand from your tangled hair to hover it awkwardly over your face. fingertips finally touch your cheekbone, and you close your eyes at the shockingly tender touch. his thumb traces the tear track down your face and he presses it into the salty bead, his own special way of wiping away your tears.
he’s sturdy under your hands when you brace yourself against him to stand. changbin lets you pull his clothes back up and zip his coveralls again, tilting his head when you place one last kiss on his chest before zipping it all the way up. you lean into him then, resting your head on his chest for only a moment. the beat of his heart — faint, so faint you can hardly hear it, but just barely noticeable if you listen as closely as you are. others might say he doesn’t have one at all, but how could you agree when it thrums against your ear?
“are you leaving?” you ask. your head lifts from his chest to find him staring once again into the window before you, searching for answers you hope he’s one step closer to finding.
changbin doesn’t move; he doesn’t head down your stairs and out the front door into the night like he typically does after a tryst with you. you leave him there with one last kiss to the latex cheek of his mask, feet slowly retreating from his sister’s room and down the hall to your own bedroom.
something tells you he won’t be leaving anytime soon, but you hope that you’ll see him again before you close your eyes for the night.
you find changbin somewhere in your house more often than you don’t now, another pleasant change in your months-long routine.
it helps that half the time he spends in your space is spent being naked together, learning each other. it’s new and exciting; changbin likes it. he likes the give of your body and the way you say his name. he doesn’t have to tell you that for you to know because it’s in the way he watches you, the way his body reacts and his hands roam.
the stray dog you wanted so badly stands collared and on guard, a protector of you and your house rather than a threat now.
changbin finds you this time, a replica of another from years past, sitting at the vanity in your room and brushing your hair before turning in for the night. you watch him walk to you through the mirror, your back turned to him.
“hello handsome,” you smile.
the hand that usually curls around the handle of a knife curls around something smaller now, something you can’t see between his bloody fingers or the tightness of his fist. you wait patiently as he raises his hand slowly. it pauses by your head for a moment before he opens his fingers wide, and the item clatters down onto your vanity and spins, slowing and slowing until it clinks in place and finally stills.
the ring is dainty and gold and bloody, though you’re not sure if the blood is from changbin’s hand or the one he must have taken it off of earlier.
“oh!” you gasp. you reach for the ring without a care, smearing the blood onto your fingertips in the process. “changbin, for me? oh, baby, it’s beautiful.” it slips onto your ring finger like it was meant to be there. you hold it away from your face to see the bloody glint, wiggling your fingers and extending your arm.
changbin stands behind you quietly. he raises his hand again to press his palm to the top of your head, his own version of an affectionate, tender caress. drying blood smears onto your hair, but you smile at the touch regardless.
“take a shower with me.” changbin’s hand drops from your head as you stand up from your vanity, sliding your hands up his chest to grip at the collar of his coveralls. “take a shower with me and come to bed after.”
it doesn’t take much convincing for him. it never does anymore; changbin is shockingly, beautifully obedient when you’re the one giving the orders.
changbin’s heavy boots follow you down the hallway to the bathroom, and you strip him bare after stripping yourself, leaving the mask alone at the airy grunt he gives you when you touch the neck of it.
you barely have time to dry yourself off when you’re done, not when changbin snatches the towel away from you with a glower and grabs greedy fingers at your hips, nosing at your neck to appease the way you click your tongue at him. changbin doesn’t even attempt to dry himself off, settling instead on walking you to your room with arms around your waist and eight fingers squeezing the skin.
he tosses you on the bed and you giggle when you bounce, rolling over onto your back and spreading your legs so you can see him stand between them. his cock is hard with arousal already, your pussy not far behind. it never is when it comes to changbin, aching something deep at the sight of him in front of you and slicking up as you watch him watch you.
you bite your lip and lean back onto your elbows. you then reach between your legs but changbin beats you there, pressing the fingers on his right hand to your slit while his left hand brackets beside your head. he leans over you like this, his beautiful body on display just as much as yours is, apart from one thing.
you whine, your eyebrows furrow. changbin responds to your distress with his own, pressing his rubber mask to your neck and kissing. you can’t feel his lips, but you can hear the sound of them smacking, your sweet boy. you run your fingers through the matted hair and wish it was curly and black instead.
changbin has given you more than enough — changbin has given you himself in ways he’s never given to anyone before, he’s trusted you more than he’s trusted anyone else, but it hurts. his mask is beautiful in its own ways, worn and dirty and battered, an extension of himself, but you want to see what’s underneath. you want to see his face and kiss his lips, you want to cup his cheeks and trace his scars with your fingertips. you want to see more than a mugshot and a blurry patient id photo.
“baby,” you cry. changbin’s hand is a flurry between your legs, rubbing so intently that you can’t help but buck into him. “baby, sweetheart, i want to kiss you, please. please, can- can i see you?”
he groans then, twitches something violent in your hold. the hand beside your head slams down onto the mattress with a force you haven’t seen in weeks. it scares you, even if only for a split second, but that flash of fear is gone as soon as it came. changbin trusts you too much to ever hurt you again, but the lamp on your nightstand doesn’t hold the same reverence as it goes crashing to the floor, a swing from his muscular arm sending it careening over the edge.
you’re clutching onto both sides of the mask before changbin can send something else flying or knock another hole in your wall, looking into his wild eyes with your own, apology after apology leaving your spit-slick lips.
“i’m sorry, i’m sorry, baby, i’m so sorry. you don’t have to, you don’t ever have to, oka-”
he interrupts you with a noise so animal that it surprises you. changbin wrenches his hand from between your legs and brings it to the mask, clutching the matted hair in his straining fingers. it’s off his head and tossed to the floor before you can blink, before you can even think, and the first thing you notice with the help of the moonlight is just how pink his lips are.
you wonder if he feels how you felt all those weeks ago, the first time he opened your legs to stare at the most private place on your body. does he feel like that now? that shyness, that intimate exposure. showing you what’s underneath his mask must be infinitely more vulnerable than anything below his belt could be.
changbin’s eyes are wide and searching when you pull him down to rest his forehead against yours. you cup his cheeks just like you wanted, your thumb brushes against the scar running through his milky eye.
“oh, my baby,” you whisper. changbin’s throat clicks, and he meets you in the middle for a kiss he doesn’t know how to reciprocate. you’ll teach him that too, like you’ve taught everything else, a meshing of lips and tongue and teeth that you can perfect together. his breath is stale but his plump lips are soft, so soft that it makes you whimper into the kiss. it’s a sound changbin replicates on his own with an unconscious tilt of his head, and his hand travels back between your legs again to feel you even wetter than you were before. he brushes your clit before curling two fingers to dip inside where you’re pulsing for him.
changbin fucks you on his fingers until you’re writhing, only held down by a three-fingered hand when you move too much for his liking all while licking into your mouth with a fervor you’ve never experienced from anyone else before.
you turn your head to the side to catch your breath, but that doesn’t deter changbin at all. he kisses down your neck to mouth at your breasts, sucking a pebbled nipple between his lips and batting at it with an inexperienced tongue. it takes you off guard and you jolt, your fingers curling into the hair at the nape of his neck to keep you grounded. you wonder if he’s seen this before, watching couples from the shadows before he butchers them, or if changbin’s own greed has driven him to something instinctual, the innate knowledge that this is a place his lips should go. you arch into his mouth, and he seals them around the tight bud to suck it.
you’re expecting the same attention to your other nipple; you’re not expecting his lips to trail down your stomach. changbin drops to his knees on the floor and yanks you closer to him, so close to the edge of the bed that your ass nearly hangs off the mattress.
the first swipe of tongue to your pulsing slit is so slick that you hardly feel it. you sit up frantically on your elbows to watch him, just in time to see him suck his tongue back between his lips to swallow the first taste of you. your eyes roll, your hands reach for him. changbin leans in again and drags his tongue up the seam of your cunt, the lack of coordination just another turn on in the pool of a million others, his inexperience something you can mold into experience the more you touch each other.
what changbin lacks in practice he makes up for in vigor. he knows your favorite spot, flicks a sloppy tongue against your clit and smacks his lips against it to get a feel of it with his mouth instead of his fingers. you know better than to rock against his face — you’ll take what he gives as he tries something new, you’ll be good and still.
your fingers crawl over his broad shoulders and latch onto the skin. “baby. oh, fuck, you like the way it tastes?”
you wonder if he’s seen this too, or if his eagerness to get his face between your legs stems from you and you alone.
taste your fingers when you leave so you can remember me, you had said. did he leave that night and suck his fingers between his lips like you asked? did it make him hungry for your taste, desperate to drink it straight from the source? changbin is a good boy. the answers to your questions are nothing but obvious.
changbin groans his answer into you anyway, a shocking vibration that makes your legs twitch on either side of him. he sucks hard again and buries his nose in your pubic hair, eyes flitting up to you intently as your fingers tighten their hold on his shoulders. all that does is spur him on. with your nails digging into the skin of those shoulders, changbin eats until you’re shaking, sticky and wet all the way from his round nose to his scarred chin.
he presses into you deeper, opens his mouth against your hole and swipes over it repeatedly with an obscenely sloppy tongue that gets you panting. his nose nudges your clit then, and your hips start buzzing before you can stop them.
“please,” you beg. changbin’s loyal tongue drags back up to its favorite place. he juts his chin back and forth slightly so he can feel the bump of your clit rubbing under his tongue, and he keeps his attention focused there while you whimper and plead for him. “please, please- please, there, there, i’ll cum.”
changbin likes it when you do that. he likes that word, likes that he can make you do it.
your breasts jump on your chest as you shiver and shake, and you lift onto your elbows again to watch him taste you. changbin’s already looking at you, his eyes locked on yours from between your trembling legs. the point of his tongue catches on the hood of your clit; your legs snap around his shoulders. he doesn’t fight it this time — the unconscious jut of your hips he takes in stride. you rabbit them against his face and changbin only grunts, trailing his hands down the backs of your thighs to feel them as they flex.
you cum on his tongue with a pitiful cry of his name. your body locks up tight as you cum and relaxes as changbin licks you through it. he’s only used to playing with his hands, but he knows to be soft with you this way too, his tongue going slack where you roll and shiver against his face, softening from a point and letting you coax yourself through your climax with his help.
changbin stands as soon as you’re done. you blink up at the ceiling and then back down at him, body taut and sternum heaving. his cock throbs and spits precum from the tip.
“come here.” you crawl back up the bed and rest your head on your pillows. he kneels on the mattress immediately, crawling between your legs once more and blanketing his body with yours when you reach for him.
his hips rut down like he just can’t help himself when he’s this close to you; your own hips following in search of his tip, aching to be filled and aching for him.
changbin’s breath stutters against your lips. you crane your neck to kiss him again, sucking his tongue into your mouth with a hum. his fingers twitch at your shoulders, his hips rock into yours in a semblance of the way he wants to fuck you.
“be a good boy,” you breathe. changbin quivers above you. you reach your hand between your sticky bodies to find his ruddy cock. it’s hard and hot at your fingertips, wet with how much he wants you. you press him to the give of your hole and wait for changbin to push himself inside. “sweet boy… you want to fuck me, don’t you?”
he thrusts forward then and buries himself inside. changbin coos something brittle against your neck, his soft hair tickles your cheek, and you tilt your head down to press your lips to any part of him you can reach. he’s just as overwhelmed as you are, still not used to something so hot and tight being wrapped around him or the tender way you touch him.
it takes a few moments with the twitching of changbin’s hips to grow accustomed to his size. he’s thick enough to stretch you out, thick enough to burn if you’re not prepared for him, but he braces himself onto his knees when you finally whisper in his ear that you’re ready for him to move.
he always starts off rocky. the sweet grip of your cunt is on the far side of just too much. changbin seo has always been a man of little words, but you know that this is a feeling that is indescribable for him. it’s just as indescribable for you. his back bows and curls, his legs scramble, but nothing stops the bump of his hips into yours or the way he hides his noises into your supple skin.
you can tell the moment changbin gets his bearings straight. he pulls away to sit on his haunches between your legs, gripping you by the waist to pull you down onto his cock as he thrusts forward. his eyes are wild, his one pupil blown wide as he looks down at your pliant body. your legs are spread around him, your hair a mess, your tits jiggling. your room is completely shrouded in darkness, moonlight eclipsed by his broad body. changbin’s eyes are made for the dark, but yours are not. you know without a doubt that changbin can see you clearly even though his own features are hard for your eyes to discern in such darkness.
his arms bulge lewdly and he ruts into you faster, jackrabbiting his hips and nearly shunting you up the bed. your fingers push at his stomach — he’s deep, deep and safe and you’d rather die than never feel this again. the glint of the ring he gifted you shines against tan skin and moonlight.
“yeah, is that nice? ‘s my pussy nice?”
changbin’s eyes fall there, to where he spears you open and fucks you messy. he groans while he watches, his voice bouncing with the rhythm of his thrusts. you clench down on his cock to hear his voice again. beautifully deep, raspy with unuse.
your pussy clings to him every time his hips pull back, hungry and greedy, a sleazy attempt to keep him deep inside. yet changbin’s thrusts turn sharper the more he fucks you pliant, they turn longer, a rhythm so suddenly mind-melding that you don’t know how it’s coming from him, your sweet, eager boy, always so overly excited to fuck you that he can’t control the bucking of his hips.
changbin’s focus hones as your silky, swollen cunt milks him tighter, but you watch that control break almost as soon as it came, like he can’t hold himself at bay anymore. the slap of skin is deafening; changbin gives it to you desperately, his hips hammering and cock pistoning until your eyes roll and squeeze shut. changbin whines. he whines again, three fingers touch the side of your face and trail over your eyebrow, a shocking juxtaposition to the wild way he fucks you. he doesn’t speak, but you know what he’s saying regardless.
open your eyes and look at me.
there are tears in your eyes when you do open them, and changbin’s eyebrows crease on his forehead.
“it feels so good,” you clarify, voice tight and high in your throat. changbin falls into you on his own, knocking his forehead with yours so he can watch you closer. “it feels so good, sweetheart. you were- you were made for me, weren’t you? just for me. my good boy was made for me.”
changbin’s fat cock slams deep, and his hips quake. he’s so close to cumming — you can feel it in the way he holds himself above you, tense and flexed.
“make me cum again,” you breathe. changbin presses his lips to yours and swallows your gasp when he slips his fingers between your bodies and down to your center. he feels over the place where he fucks you messy, nudges the edge of your hole and his pistoning cock with eager fingers before they drag to your clit. you reach down to help him then. he needs it, no matter how much it frustrates him to. you use his fingers to touch yourself with, pressing on his fingers so that they mash against your throbbing clit.
it won’t take much to cum, not with how he’s fucking you, not with his weight pushing you into the bed. it’s a dream come true, to have him this way, and he’s better than you could have ever imagined.
you clench around him hard before you cum; your pussy clenches like it was made to keep him, and you squeeze his wrist hard when that rope finally snaps, when that fire makes its way down your body and pulses through your hungry, greedy cunt.
changbin turns frantic. he groans into your neck. he wants to cum, but he knows you’re sensitive now.
“it’s okay,” you say. those two words seem to always calm him down when they come from you. “it’s okay, it’s okay, you can cum. i love you, cum inside me, please, good boy, good b- yes!”
you hold him close as he follows behind, mouthing sloppily at your neck to stifle his own noises and twitching through his orgasm. changbin’s breath is ragged and hot against your skin after such strenuous activity, his chest is sticky and heaving where it presses to yours. only when his breathing slows does he remove his face from the safe confines of your neck. his curly, black hair is sweaty and matted as it presses to your forehead once more, his eyes locked on yours. changbin lifts his hand to trace the swell of your cheek with his finger, soft and slow and sweet.
a dog barks from across the neighborhood; yours curls into your chest, sharp teeth tucked away with its tongue lolling out of its mouth.
changbin’s knife gleams on your nightstand the same way the ring on your finger does.
it’s a quiet night. curdling screams don’t echo their way across haddonfield the way they usually do. changbin sighs, his body lax atop of yours, and a cricket chirps its song outside your window. death knocks on no one’s door tonight.
The Shape is nowhere to be found, but changbin is right here with you.
havent been able to stop thinking about bin and his sexy sports car, with the sweet smell of new leather and music pumping through the speakers
reclining the passenger seat and squeezing in on top of his solid body OHHHHH… him driving one handed resting the other on your thigh across the centre console MY PEANITS !!!!!!
bjs in the lambo anyone?? please?? please??
🏷️: oral (m!rec), unprotected sex in a car, exhibitionism (not really but like just in case), tiny tease of degradation, kissing, clothed sex, ems’ bad attempts at humor <3
a/n: thank you @seolarenergy 😁 for sending this in so mama could write a lamborghini sex drabble lol… i haven’t written a bin drabble since MARCH and needed to change that asap
“would you stop?”
“stop what?”
“that, stop that! you’re-”
changbin doesn’t finish his sentence, but he doesn’t really have to. he tuts his tongue when you reach over the center to rest your hand on his thigh for the nth time that afternoon, your fingers curling over the muscle as he nudges his blinker on. he plucks it up and moves it back to the center console, entwining his stocky fingers with yours as if that’ll keep you in place.
you turn your head toward him and glare at him through your lashes.
“i can’t put my hand right there?” you lift your tangled hands and gesture to his thigh with them.
“you can’t!” he fusses. it’s his turn to gesture with your entwined hands, tossing them in the air to get his own point across and then using them to push his glasses up his round nose. “not when you’re- no.”
“not when i’m what?! finish your sentences!”
he hollers, silly and unserious and loud enough to almost cover the roar of the engine if only for a moment.
“you’re trying to seduce me! i’m trying to follow the laws of the road and you’re trying to seduce me! i’m carrying precious cargo, yeobo, you can’t distract me.”
he pulls his hand away from yours to wag a chiding finger at you. it’s as natural as it can be, the way his hand immediately goes for your thigh when he’s finished. his thick fingers curl over the tender inside, thumb caressing the sensitive skin absentmindedly. he’s so focused on the road that you’re almost certain he doesn’t even realize he’s done it.
“so you can touch mine but i can’t touch yours?” you ask incredulously. you cross your legs to trap him between them.
“huh? oh.” changbin does a double take. his fingers wriggle under the weight of your crossed legs, and he grins smugly. “yes, that’s right.”
“that’s really stupid.” with his hand not keeping yours at bay for the time being, you reach for him again, tucking your own fingers under the wide leg of his shorts to feel his skin. he’s warm. he always is, skin warm and soft to the touch, plush and squishy where it’s pressed to the seat. changbin lets you have your way for a moment, your ever indulgent sweetheart, but he ultimately picks your hand up again and brings it to his mouth this time, pecking slow kisses over your knuckles.
he’s quieter when he speaks up again; there’s a secretive little smile tugging at the corner of his pink lips that he presses to the back of your hand.
“you can’t put your hand there or else i’ll… get, ah. excited.”
you snort loudly, and changbin petulantly blows a wet raspberry onto the back of your hand before pushing it back into your own lap with a loud cry. he places both of his hands firmly on the steering wheel at ten and two. that doesn’t last for long though, not when you turn your body toward him and he uses his right hand like a shield for his face so you can’t see him.
“you’re a pervert!”
“did you want me to lie?!” changbin booms. it turns into a laugh at the end.
getting him excited wasn’t the idea, but it’s certainly not a bad one. there’s a long stretch of road ahead and a good while until you reach the vacation house the seo family booked for a quick, last minute getaway. changbin’s favorite r&b playlist is crooning through the speakers of his sports car, and suddenly you can think of at least one thing that’s more fun than a riveting game of i spy.
he’s gone quiet. you look at him again without the playfulness from moments before. his head is nodding to the beat, pretty lips mouthing the words from some song you don’t care to know the name of. every now and then his fingers tap the beat against the steering wheel, and it’s not until his other hand finds your thigh absentmindedly again that you decide to break the silence.
“changbin.” he hums but keeps his eyes on the road. “changbin. pull over.”
“hm? oh, do you have to pee?”
you thunk your head against the headrest and roll your head to the side to glare at him again. your glare turns soft around the corners the longer he goes without looking at you, so soft that it can no longer be considered a glare, eyes only saccharine and moony when they’re directed at changbin. he’s so fucking handsome. his car is so nice.
“changbinnie,” you coo, and that gets his attention all over again. he takes his foot off the gas and looks at you then, furrowing his brows once at your expression. “baby, pull the car over.”
he does it without question, easing his foot down onto the brake petal and veering off onto the empty shoulder of the road. he turns his hazard lights on after he puts the car in park, and you press your lips together. changbin can be so competent when he needs to be.
“what’s wrong?”
you shake your head and unbuckle your seatbelt. he raises his eyebrows at the sound of you removing your shoes.
“nothing’s wrong. ‘m gonna suck you off now, baby.”
changbin visibly blanks and then starts up again like a computer, wide eyes blinking rapidly as his lower lip pouts. he looks out the window and then down at his lap, and then over to you with a bobbling nod.
“you- ah. here?! right now? i- okay.”
he unbuckles his seat belt and bites his bottom lip when you lean over the center console right away. you have to pull his athletic shorts down a little to take his cock out, and changbin lifts his hips to help. he’s not hard yet, though he’s chubbing up already at the prospect of having your mouth. it’s easy enough to get him there when you know just how to press his buttons: a kiss to his mushroom tip, a slow trail down to his sac. he groans then, the corner of his lips tick. changbin snakes his hand onto the nape of your neck and caresses under your ear with his thumb.
“your mouth is so sweet,” he murmurs. you suck him down your throat and he moans, throwing his head back against the seat. he looks back down at you quickly, like he can’t go long without having his eyes on you. changbin’s cock hardens in your mouth under the attentive batting of your tongue and suction of your lips, wetting his slit with precum that you lap up as soon as it beads.
it’s not the most comfortable position to be in, but you bear it for the sake of taking his cock down your throat. your body is leaned uncomfortably over the center console, balancing on your knees and braced by your elbows. he must be able to tell how uncomfortable you are because he throws his arm over your back and helps ease you closer, using his strength to shift you while your mouth is occupied. his other hand cards through your hair to keep it out of your eyes.
you hum around his tip and he hums back weakly. changbin’s noises always spur you on; you’re always eager to pull more from that plump little mouth, and changbin is just as eager to give them to you. his sweet sounds make your cunt throb in the confines of your shorts — you’d rub your thighs together for some relief if only you could.
“fuck.” it’s grit through pearly teeth. “fuck. fuck, gorgeous, please.”
his hips raise to chase the warmth of your mouth, rolling forward just as you bob your head down to cram as much of his short, thick length into your mouth as he can. he bulges your cheeks, stretches the corners of your lips. almost like he’s forgotten where you are, he looks frantically to the windshield and through his driver’s side window and back down to you, cheeks and ears tinted strawberry pink.
you pull off of him with a slick pop. changbin wipes the spit from your chin with a calloused thumb.
“are you scared someone will see us, baby?” you ask. you raise into your knees and lean up for a kiss that he readily reciprocates, licking his own taste from your mouth with an eager tongue and soft lips. your kisses trail from his lips to his cheek, all the way over to a burning ear. you kiss that too, trap the lobe between your teeth before you speak. “don’t worry. you’re too small down there for anyone to see anyways.”
“yah!” changbin clicks his tongue, but it doesn’t stop his eyes from fluttering. it doesn’t stop his cock from twitching either. “tch. not- not that, not here! god. god, yeobo, beautiful… can you take your shorts off?”
you giggle then, leaning further into his space to kiss down his neck while trying to ease your shorts down at the same time. as soon as you kick them from your ankles, changbin is wrenching you over the center console and right into his lap.
you still hit your head on the roof with a thud — changbin hisses through his teeth right when you do, and he’s cradling your head to his chest with soothing hands.
“can i still get on this ride if i have a concussion?” your voice is muffled by his pecs. changbin thumps the back of your head and laughs.
“ahh, my sweetie’s head is too hard for that to give you a concussion. you might have dented the roo- ow, hey, stop biting me!”
he swats at your ass and your teeth let go of his pec.
your glower might carry more weight if your panties weren’t soaked at the gusset. changbin’s smile is sweet and sated, like just having you in his lap and in his arms is enough.
the scent of your shared arousal mixes with the smell of new leather and the vanilla air freshener he’s hung from the rear view mirror. he’s still smiling when he leans in to steal a kiss from your lips, kissing the pout from your mouth and easing the glower away when your eyes drift shut.
the hand that isn’t pressed to your spine sinks between your bodies to nudge at the hem of your panties. his tongue glides smoothly against yours, but his breath turns ragged at the first brush to your sex, his fingertips dipping into the wetness between your legs.
“mm. you’re wet,” he grins against your lips. “who made you this wet?”
you could tease. you could lie and play coy all you want, but your body doesn’t lie; it can’t when it comes to changbin.
“changbin made me wet,” you breathe, and the groan he feeds into your mouth coats your tastebuds like sweet sugar. he kisses you again, sucks your tongue into his mouth before he pulls away to look into your eyes.
“you make me so hard.” he shakes his head like he can’t believe it. “can you feel what you do to me? do you feel how much i want you?”
he’s not expecting you to reach down and touch him. his cock leaks in your soft grip, dribbles salty pre down your knuckles like it wants to further prove his point. you nod your head, your lip quivers. you want him just as much, so you lift onto your knees. changbin pushes your panties to the side with wide eyes and a bitten lip, watching you sink down onto him with bated breath.
“you’re stretching me,” your voice is tight. you whine, curling your fists into his curly orange hair. “stretching me!”
he growls. it peters off into a whine as pitiful as yours. he helps you bounce when you’re ready, strong hands holding onto your hips to ease the work on your thighs. you know changbin though, you know his hands can’t stay still when there’s so much in front of him that he loves, so many things he can touch. your beautiful breasts, the globes of your ass, the arms that embrace him, and the cheeks that hold your smile. he doesn’t know where to touch, so he touches everywhere, hands roaming your body in a way that only he can.
changbin is sweet, the most thoughtful man you know even when his cock is digging you out on an empty road in the middle of nowhere. his hands wind up cradling the top of your head in case you hit the roof again, and he pulls you down so that you’re pressed chest to chest, your face tucked into his neck.
“that’s it, baby,” he grunts. his praise meets your ears like a melody. “that’s it, that’s perfect. use me like this.”
you lift your face from his neck and take the glasses from his nose so you can press your forehead to his. it’s sweltering despite the air filtering through changbin’s expensive car, the windows beginning to fog up in random places. if you didn’t take his glasses off, they’d be steaming up too.
your cunt clenches around his cock, your eyes threaten to roll, but you don’t want to stop looking at him.
the clap of your hips together mixes with the sound of music playing from his speakers. the heady stream of moans and whimpers and cries that you and changbin give each other drown out the music even more than your melding bodies. changbin fucks you so well. changbin fucks you so well, and it doesn’t matter where.
“changbin,” you whine. “changbin, changbin, bin.”
your hips stutter. you cling to his arms like you’d float away if you were to let go. he cups the nape of your neck with one strong hand and squeezes, his other arm wrapped tight around your back to keep holding you close.
he nods. he begs. “yes. yes, don’t stop until you cum, you hear me? keep going and i will too, i promise. you’ll make me cum. i’ll make you proud and cum, yeo- yeobo, but will you cum for me first?”
your body answers him before your brain catches up enough to. of course you’ll cum for him, of course your pussy spasms and clenches and throbs through its orgasm as soon as he asks it to. changbin kisses the cry from your lips and gives you his own when he follows with his own climax, just like he said he would. changbin empties himself inside of you and eases his hands down your back, his neat nails scratching the skin soothingly. he heaves a heavy, content sigh and smiles against your forehead when your body twitches, ticklish.
“holy fuck,” you breathe.
changbin’s grin is smug and sated, but that sleepy demeanor is interrupted when he jolts in place, a surprised shout leaving his lips when you lean back to take a deep breath and accidentally press against the horn.
hai ems! idk if you’ve answered this already but who in skz do you think is into snowballing?
chan - chan has a thing for his own cum anyway, so i think this is something he’d be into. it’s almost like a compulsion… he needs his cum in your mouth, and it doesn’t matter how it gets there, just as long as it does. whether he’s cumming on your tongue after a blowjob or letting you lick that pearly white from his abs, you better believe he’s ducking in for a taste too. he’ll even lap it from your pretty pussy after filling you up. chan likes messy kissing anyway, but when his cum is swapped between your mouths it’s even better. depending on the day, it might just get him going again.
hyunjin - this is literally a mix of two of hyunjin’s most favorite things, messy sex and kissing, so this is right up his alley. hyunjin likes for things to get dirty sometimes, both of you covered in sweat and spit and fluids, and if some of that gets into his mouth, hyunjin is happy lol. a cum kiss is so romantic to him, sharing that part of him together is delicious. hyune wants it running down your chin and neck so he can lick it back up to your tongue. the dirtier the better, the noisier the better too. that and the feeling of your hands all over each other gets him worked up all over again.
jisung - big on reciprocity during sex, so if you let him kiss you after going down on you, chin all sticky-messy and tongue tangy with your juices, why wouldn’t he let you do the same thing? it’s kinda hot to him anyway even if he thinks his cum tastes a little weird lol. the longer you kiss, the more he just starts to taste you after a while, and that he loves. add some degradation in there and he’ll start leaking sooner or later too - “you like eating your cum, hannie? that’s so dirty.” climb into his lap and kiss him deep and he’ll be so sweetly pliant, he’ll even lap up the cum slipping from the corner of your mouth.
pairing: nerd!kim seungmin x f!reader genre/tags: smut, oral (f. receiving), fingering, squirting, nerd talk, idk what this is man
[ note. ] — this is hella short fwkdjdks but i’ve had this in my drafts for a hot minute and felt like posting it so ;p
you’re not even sure how you got here— splayed across seungmin’s creaky dorm bed, thighs pinned back by his scrawny arms, while he’s halfway buried in between your legs. his dorm smells faintly of coffee and the plastic tang of electronics, textbooks stacked haphazardly on his desk with highlighted notes spilling out of them. his glasses slide down the slope of his nose everytime he moans, but he doesn’t bother fixing them, too entranced by what he’s doing.
your skirt is hiked up to your waist, panties hanging somewhere forgotten on the floor, and seungmin looks like he’s studying for an exam he’s desperate to ace. his messy dark hair keeps tickling the insides of your thighs, dampened by sweat and your slick, and you swear he’s drooling more than he ever does over the ramen cups piled up by his nightstand.
“fascinating,” he mutters, licking a slow stripe up your slit, his voice low like he’s reading observations into a recorder. his nose nudges your clit until your hips jolt violently against him, and you can hear the way he breathes heavier at the reaction. “your body responds to direct pressure here at… what? less than three seconds? consistent stimulus equals immediate twitch reflex.. interesting.”
you choke out his name, your face burning, embarrassed heat flooding you from head to toe. “seung- god- stop talking like that—” you croak halfway through because his tongue is right back on you, unrelenting.
“control group would disagree,” he deadpans, like he’s actually defending his thesis. his tone is clinical, but the way he seals his mouth over your clit is nothing short of feral. he sucks, flicking his tongue in precise little circles, and your gasps makes his eyes flutter shut. the corners of his glasses misted instantly, and he slightly pulls back only to come up for air, a string of saliva connecting his lips to your drooling cunt.
“the data is clear. you taste… fuck—” his nerdy facade cracks, shredding into something guttural, a raw groan punching out of him as his chest heaves against the mattress, “—sweet as sugar.”
the sound of him moaning while saying it is humiliating and addictive all at once. his hands grip your thighs tighter, knuckles pale as if he’s holding you open for dissection, except he’s the one falling apart. he pushes two fingers inside without warning, the intrusion sharp and sudden, curling them ruthlessly until you’re keening. your hands fly up to his hair, yanking, but he only groans louder at the twinge of pain.
“see?” he pants, and you realize with horror and arousal that he’s still narrating, voice shaking with exhilaration but steady in its nerdy cadence. “every contraction around my fingers is another point of evidence. repeated pattern. measurable. predictable.” his pace is relentless, the thrust of his fingers perfectly angled as if he calculated it ahead of time, tongue and lips locking you down at the same time.
you feel your orgasm wash over you before you can even warn him, your whole body convulsing, and wetness gushes down his wrist in a sudden torrent. his eyes go wide, lips shiny, glasses completely fogged up. he stares at the mess you’re making with the awe of someone witnessing a chemical reaction for the first time.
“hypothesis confirmed,” he pants, and the smugness is ruined by the cracked, wrecked edge of his tone. his fingers are still fucking you open as you squirt again, testing the limits of your body. “multiple consecutive releases are achievable under consistent oral application. remarkable. oh my god—”
he moans low, like he can’t help it, tongue latching back onto your clit just to prove his point, dragging you through another wave until you’re sobbing his name into the stale atmosphere of his dorm. every thrust of his fingers hits deeper, rougher, and your legs are trembling so hard you feel like you’ll split apart.
he only pulls back when your thighs can’t hold still anymore, shaking too violently, threatening to knock his glasses clean off. he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, spit and slick smeared across his chin, his lips red and puffy from working you over. cheeks flushed a tint of pink, chest heaving, he stares at you like you’re the most important discovery of his life.
“conclusion?” he murmurs, sounding rougher than you’ve ever heard him before, “you’re the best experiment i’ve ever run.”
mimo fucking jisung but you're under them 😇 getting to hear all his sounds and minho's grunts and dirty talk.. "come on, you can fuck them, can't you? are you that useless?" jisung's pink ruddy cockhead is only tapping at your inner thigh.. unfortunately he is that useless, and minho has to do all the work 😊
a/n: hello….. hi maesie… i was just going to strictly go off of your ask but then i remembered your tag on this post of yours and thought that it would be a fun little addition. I HOPE THAT’S OK and i hope u enjoy <3 :)
“mm, i don’t think you can do it.”
minho’s voice is calm and collected while the man underneath him is anything but. he rocks his hips to prove his point without another word, digging small fingers into black ink and cooing at the noise it pulls out of a clogged throat. jisung whimpers then, hisses loudly through his teeth just before he gnashes them in determination.
“i can,” he insists on a warble. jisung’s sticky-wet cock drags across your sticky-wet thigh. he’s so close to where you need him but still so far, bumping your swollen clit or catching in the crease of a spread thigh in his many attempts to fuck you while he’s fucked. your hole pulses like it’s hungry, searching for a snack. “hyung, i can. baby, baby, i can, just-”
jisung’s palms flatten against the mattress on either side of your head, his hips tremble as he adjusts his stance where he’s sandwiched between you and his hyung. your greedy hands slide up his toned arms and a shiver wracks his frame. he eases closer on his knees, his cock kissing a tender fold of your labia before it finally puts sweet pressure on your hole. your fingers squeeze his shoulders then; pleading eyes locked on jisung’s, your breath catches in your lungs in anticipation of that delicious slide home.
the steady press of jisung’s cock crown parts your lower lips, and minho looms like a threatening shadow, grinning toothily over jisung’s shoulder.
you don’t have time to fret over what you’re sure he’s planning because it happens before you can, hazy, dick-drunk brain catching on a second too late — his hands tighten on jisung’s waist and he fucks deep in one single thrust, grinding so slowly into him that your own legs tremble where they’re bent because you know what he must be feeling.
in a perfect world, the sudden buck of minho’s strong hips would pop jisung right inside of your cunt. in a perfect world, you’d be filled to the brim the way jisung is, fucked deep and full like you ache for.
but the press of that beautiful cock is gone as soon as it came, minho’s mischievous hips rutting so purposefully that it makes jisung slide back up your pussy instead of in, hugged between slick, swollen lips and gliding over your clit in some semblance of an apology. you wail, chin quivering, and jisung follows yours with his own.
“didn’t i tell you?” minho huffs. blue-black hair bounces with his thrusts, sweat beads at his temples. his ears are red, red, red, and the clap of his hips sounds like sin. you follow the rhythmic pop of his pecs with bleary eyes, vision clouded in the corner by the sweaty tips of jisung’s hair as he pants and whines above you. “you just don’t know how to fuck, do you, jisungie?” minho shakes his head and addresses you next, tutting his tongue. his expression is full of sweet faux pity. “oh, honey, i’m sorry. our bug only knows how to get fucked.”
“ha-a-aaa,” jisung moans, and that’s all he can say. his hips rabbit then, a seesaw of movement that quickens the slide of his leaky cock over the sopping seam of your pussy while still managing to plow himself on the tip of minho’s thick cock, all while you haven’t even taken an inch.
“it’s-” you start. you want to kick your feet, you want to beat your fists against the mattress. your eyes are starting to sting, chin quivering again as your stomach tightens hard, like your body is trying to make you cum on its own. “it’s not fair! it’s- jisungie can get- but i can’t- it hurts, please!”
jisung’s weight nearly drops on you then. you can feel the flutter of his lashes on the clammy skin of your neck, his eyes squeezed shut as he presses frantic kisses there to soothe you from his own accidental actions. his hand determinedly slips between your bodies to reach for his cock and put himself inside to give you what you want, but minho catches his arm with a growl and pins it back against the mattress.
you try then, surely minho can’t see what you’re doing with jisung’s pretty body in between you. your own shaky fingers dip across your stomach and down between your legs, searching, until fingertips brush a bulbous head and angle it in the right direction. your tongue sticks to the side of your mouth in concentration, a throaty grunt leaving your lips, but minho’s stern, unfaltering gaze suddenly stops you in your tracks.
when he looks at you like that, you know you’re cruising for a punishment. it’s worth it this time, you think, the idea of jisung’s perfect cock sitting snug inside the grip of your aching cunt feels worth a spanking or a ruined orgasm when you least expect it.
“jisungie, look. you’re mistreating our baby.” how can a voice so sweet be so condescending?
jisung’s ruddy face pops up from its hiding place between your shoulder and neck. his eyebrows furrow, he pouts. his heavy, full balls mash against your cunt when he undulates his hips, miscalculating for the umpteenth time in an attempt to guide himself inside without his hands. there’s a sloppy kiss pressed to your lips, another and another until you’re opening your mouth for his pink little probing tongue. “‘m sorry,” he mumbles, almost inaudible where the words are pressed into your mouth. “i’m trying, baby, minho’s- hyung is mean, i can’t, he won’t let me-”
you both gasp loudly at the sudden movement, at the surprise change of position when it happens. you’re looking up at jisung until you’re not, his body bounces lightly as he’s roughly manhandled onto the bed beside you. jisung snivels in your ear, achingly empty now as you’ve been all night.
minho takes jisung’s place between your legs. the snap of him removing his used condom floods your ears, the opening tear of a new packet next. he slides the new condom snugly down his throbbing cock and polishes it in his fist.
“hyung is mean? ah, han jisung. if hyung was mean would he show you this? would he teach you how to do it correctly?” minho’s knees bracket your hips, the backs of your thighs rest over the thick tops of his. you’re trembling with how bad you want it, want whatever minho’s going to do to you, whatever lesson he’s going to make of you. he’s still jerking his cock when he presses the head to the tender give of your hole. “keep your eyes right here, right on this pretty cunt. watch how it’s done.”
he gives you his tip first, pauses there to smile sweetly at the wide gape of your mouth before he slides in all the way, balls deep, lifting up in his knees to grind his lower stomach into your throbbing clit.
it’s glitter and gold, and you reach for them both. you entwine your fingers with jisung’s, grip minho’s elbow for dear life as you’re finally fucked into the mattress.
jisung is propped up on his elbow, gaze intense and locked on your fucked open cunt just like minho told him. he licks his lips. he’s pressed so close beside you that he rocks with your movement. the hand not holding yours reaches to pull your leg back. it slides under the sweaty dip of your bent knee, pulling you further apart for minho to fuck and for him to watch.
minho hisses then, his chin ducked so he can watch himself fuck you sloppy too. his eyes are wide, his brows furrowed.
“touch that fucking clit,” he growls, eyes snapping to jisung and right back down to your slick pussy. he licks his lips when jisung immediately listens, when his fingers slip from your leg and down to what’s between it. “you know how to find that, don’t you? ah- fuck. jisungie. bug, let’s make our baby cum.”
letting your loser boyfriend hit it raw for the first time at a party turns out better than you’d both expected.
pairing: nerd!han jisung x popular!f!reader, established relationship genre/tags: college au, smut, sub!jisung, oral (m. receiving), jisung being a professional yapper as always, unprotected s*x, an ass slap or two, creampie, overstim words: 2.9k
[ note. ] — last fic upload before i leave for vacayy, hope u guys fw it. also i’m going to be posting all my fics in lowercase from now on for aesthetic purposes <3
you can read the other parts i’ve previously made here and here but this could be read as a standalone !
it’s always the same.
he’ll start talking about his newest little hyperfixation, voice notching an octave or two higher, words tumbling over each other, eyes lit up behind those too-big glasses that never sit quite right on the bridge of his nose. he fidgets with the drawstring of his hoodie while he talks, tugging it tight, then loosening it again, as if he’s trying to keep his own excitement from spilling out too fast.
and you’ll just be sitting there across from him, all pretty and patient, thighs crossed in your tiny skirt, chin resting in your hand, pretending to care. you try, you really do. but the longer he talks, the harder it is to focus, not on what he’s saying, but on him.
because he’s just so fucking cute when he rambles, way too animated and overly passionate. his hands always gesturing in wild, uncoordinated circles, one knee bouncing like he’s trying to burn off the excess energy. he talks super fast, stumbles over words, corrects himself mid-rant, and whenever he gets something right, like some equation or probability he’s been chewing on for hours, he glances at you like he’s hoping you’re proud, like he wants a gold star for being smart.
his lashes are thick behind the lenses, his lips are pink and plush and chapped at the corners, his voice isn’t that deep or confident— it’s soft, a little scratchy, but so full of warmth.
“so if you run the stats for the gacha drop rate and multiply it by, like, uh, thirty-two? you get this number, right? and then you compare that to the JP version’s old banners, and their pity system was actually better than what the global servers offer now, which is total bullshit, ‘cause mathematically it just doesn’t track when you- uh, wait, let me show you..”
he’s flipping his phone around to pull up some cluttered spreadsheet, thumb swiping too fast through endless tabs filled with numbers, graphs, and notes like he’s been preparing for this conversation all week.
you get a little closer, nodding slowly. not because you understand, but because just he looks so goddamn sweet when he’s talking like this. the way his cheeks are flushed from excitement, the way he’s sweating the tiniest bit under the collar of his hoodie, and how he’s so wrapped up in his own little world and still wants you to be part of it.
“baby,” you interrupt, reaching under the table to brush your freshly manicured fingertips along the inside of his thigh, slow and light.
he falters mid-thought. whole body stiffens up and his lips part in a soft little gasp. his glasses slip down a bit and his thumb freezes against the slightly cracked screen, looking up at you like he’s just remembered you exist and realized where he is.
“you’re so cute when you talk like that,” you smile at him, giggling sweetly like you weren’t thinking about jumping his bones right then and there.
jisung blinks, blushing immediately, making a little sound that even he couldn’t describe what it was.
“i-i wasn’t trying to be.. i mean, it’s just numbers. sorry, i was rambling again, wasn’t i? i know it’s boring…”
you shook your head, “not boring,” leaning in even closer now and never breaking eye contact with him, “just makes me wanna fuck you even more.”
he’s full-on glitching now. mouth half open, eyes wide and cheeks so red you can feel the heat radiating off him. his leg jerks under the table and his fingers clench around his phone, nearly dropping it.
“wha—” he squeaks, “you- you can’t just say that. we’re- this is a party, there’s people—”
he’s whispering now, but frantically. internally panicking. looking around like someone might’ve heard you, even though there’s absolutely no one paying mind to either of you.
you lean in some more, all slow and smug, until your lips are practically inches away from each others.
“there’s an empty closet down the hall.”
his breath hitches audibly.
you see the way his adam’s apple bobs, how fast his hand shoots up to adjust his crooked glasses, his thighs shifting under the table, voice caught somewhere between disbelief and arousal.
he’s already hard, you know him well enough to know the telltale signs. tenting his grey sweats, twitching against the fabric as you slid your hand higher. he doesn’t even try to stop you, just sits there, jaw slack, watching you with big eyes like you’ve cast some kind of spell.
maybe you have, because the thing is— jisung doesn’t really do parties. he wasn’t invited to shit like this before, not until you came into the picture.
he was always known as the weird kid in STEM. the one who played rhythm games in the library and forgot to eat lunch when he was coding. he wore sweatshirts in summer and muttered to himself and would gett teased by the lacrosse team. so he never really expected to be dating the prettiest girl he’s ever laid eyes on for nearly three months now, the one who wears expensive lipgloss and wears matching juicy couture tracksuits with her friends who stared at him like he’s an alien.
but you love and adore him in a way that still feels surreal to him. you’d hold his hand in public, kiss his cheek in the hallways, wait for him after every class, sit in his lap and call him baby, not caring if people swap odd locks about such an unlikely pair. it lowkey terrifies him, but he’s obsessed, because he’s yours.
and the fact that you want him this badly? it blows his mind. every. single. time.
your fingers drag up his thigh and he twitches again, a shaky moan falling from his lips before he bites it back. he’s warm, already leaking, probably. you can feel how sensitive he is, how badly he wants it.
you tug him up by the sleeve, smiling, your tone soft but firm.
“don’t make me ask twice.”
by your words alone, han jisung knows that he’s already done for.
+
the second the closet door slams shut behind you, he wastes zero time to be all over you— not in a confident way though. it’s messy, too eager, full of stifled sounds and nervous fingers, as if he’s afraid if he doesn’t kiss you now, he might never get the chance again.
his lips move over yours too fast and sloppy, his hands everywhere all at once, gripping your waist, your hips, your sides like he can’t decide where to touch first. his nose accidentally bumps against yours when he tries to kiss you deeper and you giggle into his mouth, gently slowing him down with your palms at his jaw.
“easy, baby,” you whisper, barely parting from him.
“s-sorry,” he breathes out, already so out of it. “i just.. you look so good tonight, and your skirt- fuck- i’ve been thinking about it all day, i couldn’t focus when you sat on my lap after class, i was so close to cumming—”
“ji,” you interrupt sweetly, brushing your knuckles over his cheek. “you’re rambling again.”
he shuts up immediately. blushing.
you lean in to press a soft, lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth, then his jaw, going down even further until your knees coil down to the floor, right in front of him.
he could literally feel his heart beating out of his chest.
“w-wait,” he stammers, his back already hitting the wall. “baby, you don’t have to- fuck..”
his words fall apart the minute you tug down the waistband of his sweats, his boxers go with them, and his cock springs free in front of you— flushed a pretty shade of pink, tip already leaking delicious precum, and twitching where it rests against his stomach. so thick, so heavy, so obscenely hard. you don’t even touch it before he moans.
you look up through your lashes, watching the way he presses the back of his head to the wall, lips parted like he’s trying to remember how to properly breathe.
then you lean forward, slowly dragging your tongue from the base to the tip.
he shudders so hard his legs almost give out.
“jesus christ,” he bit down on his lip harshly, “your mouth.. shit, feels too good, i can’t—”
his thighs are trembling, and his hand reaches out instinctively to cradle your jaw, anchoring himself to feel something.
you smile around the head of his cock before wrapping your lips around it, sliding your head down. soft, warm suction, just enough pressure to make him gasp. you suck deeper, taking more of him in your mouth as your hand strokes the rest in slow, steady pulls. spit runs down your wrist, the sound is wet, vulgar, echoing off the walls of the cramped space.
he groans again, louder this time. one leg shifts to stabilize himself.
“oh my god,” he gasps, “oh fuck- baby, baby- shit—”
his voice breaks on every moan, hips twitching forward, but he doesn’t thrust. he never does. he’s too good, too well-trained.
but he literally can’t stop shaking.
“you’re so good,” he whimpers, praising you to no end. “you’re so fucking good at that, i’m not gonna last.. ’m gonna- fuck, you’re ‘bout to make me cum—”
you pull off with a soft ‘pop’, your hand still stroking him agonizingly slow.
“you better not cum yet,” you warn, pressing your tongue under the head and dragging it gently along the slit. “you haven’t even been inside me.”
his whole body jolts. eyes going wide, almost scared, like the idea of fucking you now might actually break him.
“then let me—” he blurts out, hands twitching at his sides. “pleasepleaseplease. fuck, i need to. i wanna be inside, please baby, can i fuck you now?”
you smile and finally stood up, turning around to face the wall.
“fuck me like this, ji,” you whisper, hiking your skirt up and wiggling your ass against him. “fuck me raw.”
he’s completely frozen, his breath stuttering in his throat.
“wha- are you serious? wait- y/n- no condom?”
you glance back at him with half-lidded eyes, giggling.
“you wanna feel me, right?” you ask, no hesitation detected in your words. “you wanna cum inside?”
he nods so quickly its almost embarrassing, his hands are moving faster than his brain can form a thought.
“yes. fuck. please,” he choked out desperately, already fumbling his cock into his hand.
his grip is shaky, you feel the blunt head brush your folds once, twice, then he finally lines up right and sinks in— real slow and careful, bracing himself as he slides in every inch. his moan is strangled, like hes unsure of whether he’s dying or dreaming.
your wetness takes him easy, your pussy already clenching around him with need, swallowing him so greedily he loses control of his rhythm for a second. he bottoms out with a deep, gasping groan, cock buried to the hilt, your walls pulsing around him.
“holy shit,” he breathes out, practically shaking. “you’re so warm.. s-so tight.. baby.. oh my god—”
you barely have time to process the stretch before he’s stuttering forward with a broken whimper, hips twitching.
two thrusts. that’s all it takes.
you feel the sharp jerk of his cock, the way his whole body tenses up, and then the sudden warmth flooding you deep inside….
he cums early. too hard and way too fast.
you smirk, turning your head slightly, “oh no,” you murmur. “you didn’t just cum, did you?”
jisung lets out the softest, most wrecked noise you’ve ever heard and hides his face against your back, the tip of his nose pressed between your shoulder blades.
“fuck,” he groans. “’m sorry.. i couldn’t help it! fuck, it just felt too good, your pussy’s too perfect, i didn’t mean to—”
you clench around him, tight and deliberate.
his knees nearly buckle.
“you’re not pulling out.”
he gasps again, panicked and overwhelmed.
“b-but i already- baby, wait, ’m sensitive—”
you simply drown out his whines and start rolling your hips back, slow and deep, grinding against him, and he whimpers.
“then cum again,” you demand sharply.
his hands slid down the slope of your waist, fingers gripping tightly, mentally preparing himself for the next round. even though he’s overstimulated, his cock never softens. still rock hard inside you, still twitching, still leaking.
your pussy’s so wet now it’s sinful, every roll of your hips drawing a filthy squelch, your slick and his cum mixing into a hot, messy slop between your thighs. it’s dripping down his balls already.
“you’re milking me,” he whines, voice high and sweet. “fuck, fuck.. i can’t- ’m gonna cum again- already- baby, please. s’too much—”
“you can do it,” you breathe, forehead pressed against the wall. “you’re doing so good, ji. fuck, feel so full.. love your cock so much,”
he moans like it hurts.
his pace picks up, just a litttle. short thrusts. clumsy and deep.
your ass bounces back against his thighs with every movement, and he can’t stop watching it. can’t stop staring at the way your body moves for him, the way you take him. he reaches around and grabs a handful of your tits, squeezing greedily, fingers slipping under your top like he’s desperate to feel your skin. you’re bouncing in his hands with every thrust and he whimpers against your shoulder.
“you’re so beautiful,” he pants. “so fucking beautiful. your tits, your ass. god, your pussy’s made for me- i swear—”
you feel it again. the sudden twitch of his hips, the quickening pace, and then he slaps your ass once.
you freeze and so does he.
“…did you just slap my ass?” you say, trying not to laugh.
“i-i don’t know,” he stammers behind you. “i didn’t mean to.. i mean- i did, but also i didn’t- fuck, it just happened..”
you giggle and push back against him, grinding your ass into his hips.
“do it again.”
he moans and gives you another gentle, shy little slap.
“’m sorry,” he breathes. “you’re just so hot. your ass jiggles everytime i move, it’s driving me insane- i love you.. i love you so much—”
his arms wrap around your middle, pressing his lips to the back of your neck, kissing softly, over and over. each one messier than the last, wet and open-mouthed and desperate.
“i wanna stay inside you forever,” he mumbles into your dewy skin. “wanna keep fucking you like this, raw, every single day. wanna wake up buried in your pussy- cum in you before breakfast, again before bed—”
your whole body trembles. the heat’s unbearable now, your orgasm building sharp and tight in your belly.
“‘m gonna marry you,” he rambles again, “make you mine- fuck, i love you, love you, love you—”
you clench down and he cries out. hips stuttering.
his cock throbs inside you, deep and messy, and he cums again— hot and thick and endless, spilling into your cunt like he’s trying to fill you up completely. you feel it leak around him instantly, dripping down your thighs, making a mess between you.
your walls flutter and you go with him. body shaking, legs unsteady, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave.
you squirt. hard.
you feel it spray out around him, and he groans so deep it turns into a moan that curls into a whine. he’s still inside. still twitching. and your pussy’s squeezing every last drop from him.
you both go limp, falling forward against the wall, panting, soaked in sweat and cum, but fully in love with each other.
his arms stay looped around you. his lips trail down your spine, kissing every inch of skin he can reach, mouth whispering shaky little “i love you’s” in between labored breaths.
you’re still dripping. still stuffed full of him.
you feel him kiss your shoulder again, going up to your neck. his hands are still cupping your tits like they belong to him.
“you’re my favorite person,” he mumbles, voice dreamy and thick. “you’re so good to me. you’re everything.”
you laugh breathlessly. your legs are barely holding you up.
“you’re insane,”
“and you let me fuck you raw,” he says, smiling against you. “so who’s really the insane one?”
you snort and roll your eyes, tugging your skirt down. your thighs are all sticky and your knees are a little wobbly.
he pulls his sweats back up, still swaying on his feet. glasses fogged, damp strands of hair sticking to his forehead, lips red and puffy from kissing every part of you.
you’re about to open the closet door when he tugs you back in and kisses you— deep and passionate. nothing controlled. just all lips and tongue and the faint taste of sweat.
“was it… was it good?” he asks shyly, eyes wide and searching.
you grin, still panting. “ji, you have the best dick i’ve ever had.”
he whines, hiding in your neck like he can’t handle hearing such high level of praise coming from you.
“you’re so fucking lucky to have me,” he mumbles into your skin.
you roll your eyes. “you literally came in two thrusts.”
“okay, but it was two raw thrusts. that’s different!” he attempts to defend himself.
he has a point. kind of.
you both sneak back into the party a few minutes later. jisung’s face is flushed, hair a mess, his walk wobblier than usual. your thighs are still slick and your lipgloss is ruined.
if anyone notices they don’t say anything.
but jisung doesn’t let go of your hand for the rest of the night.
warnings: established relationship, does this count as poly??? or a crack fic?? lol, look at all those changbins!!!, eventual smut, kissing, sexual tension, sexy pre-workout stretching, sexy bathing, humping, rule 63, lingerie, nipple licking, oral (m rec), slight possessive dirty talk, cowgirl position, very light choking, unprotected sex
a/n: happy birthday sweet bin <3 this fic is based off of the game date everything! with a few of my own little twists, plus a very special surprise guest sprinkled in here that some of you might enjoy seeing again. this is a lot more lighthearted than my bin bday fic from last year lol, and it’s probably a little silly actually, but i had a lot of fun writing it. pls let me know what you think. reblogs and feedback are always appreciated :)
w/c: 18.6k
the jingle of keys, the shuffle of shoes, a fleeting kiss pressed to your forehead right after pouted lips meet yours in a quick farewell. you can hear the door open as he goes to leave, but it doesn’t close.
“oh?” changbin muses, loud voice muffled only by the rooms now between you.
his keys jingle again faintly when he bends down, his shoes shuffle once more, back towards the kitchen and back towards your spot at the table again, a rubbery squeak thrown into the mix of mundane, early morning noises as the bottom of a platform croc catches on the linoleum. you lift your eyes to see him holding a box, walking slowly enough to concentrate on reading the label on the package.
“here, it says it’s for you. were you expecting something?” you answer his question with a shake of your head and a slight frown on your lips. there’s no return label on the box, no identifying markers other than your name and address, and it’s light enough to pick up and shake. something clunks inside, rustles like it’s padded by tissue paper.
the tape wrapping the box doesn’t give easily under your prying fingers, so you hand it back to changbin for him to slice it open with his keys. right down the middle he does, huffing as he uses his strength to finish opening the remaining flaps of cardboard on the sides with two calloused hands, tape popping apart loudly under the force of them. you look into the box together then, two peas in a pod, heads almost colliding in your hurry to lean into each other.
the box is small enough that you can see its contents right away. pink tissue paper, wrinkled and messy like it was stuffed inside with haste. sitting in the middle of the rumpled tissue paper though, is a pair of yellow-tinted glasses.
they’re… nice. not necessarily your style, but they’re not ugly. you can tell they’re new, the lenses and legs are free of fingerprints and scratches like so many of your well-loved glasses don’t have the luxury of anymore. they’re objectively nice glasses, but the fact of the matter is, you didn’t order them.
“are you sure these aren’t for you?” you ask, looking up at changbin where he stands over you. “not like a… brand deal?”
you check the label on the opened box again and sure enough, it’s your name listed on it, not his. changbin still responds to your silly, obvious question with a genuine answer.
he hums, purses his lips. “hmm, no, i don’t think so. those are usually sent straight to the company. you didn’t order them?”
you’d remember ordering them if you did; you’d definitely remember ordering something you wouldn’t typically wear. maybe you won it somewhere? maybe a small online shop you frequent sent you a free gift? did changbin order them for you? it’s not unheard of; changbin enjoys surprising you with things, indulgent when it comes to spoiling you with gifts he thinks you’ll like. but he’s never played possum before, always open and honest when it comes to you.
“i didnt order them. did you order them?” you look up at him again, and his eyebrows furrow. he takes a closer look into the box to study the glasses and ultimately decides that no, he didn’t order them. the shake of his head tells you so.
changbin’s phone chimes before he can give you a verbal answer though, and he hisses through his teeth.
“ah, i need to go.” he stands up straight but leans into your side to smack a kiss against your cheek. “i can take them to the studio if you want. hannie might like them.”
you take the glasses out of the box and put them on, blinking to adjust your vision to the warm hue of the lenses. the yellow tint doesn’t bother your eyes as much as you thought it would.
“o-oh, oh my god,” you say seriously, waving your hand in front of your face and gasping.
“what?!”
changbin’s eyes widen. his pupils shake as he looks you up and down to figure out your problem.
“it can’t be! these- these glasses! your clothes are gone. i can see you naked!”
his hand slaps the table. “yah!” changbin hollers, bellow petering off into a goofy laugh at the end. “yah, you’re bad. you scared me! you’re lucky if you ever see me naked again.” changbin huffs when you join in his laughter, but there’s a satisfied grin tugging at the corner of his lips.
“i’m sorry, i’m sorry, baby,” you placate. the glasses creak on your face as you tuck your cheek into his chest, wrapping your arms around him in a hug that he easily reciprocates despite his posturing. “i’ll keep ‘em for now, but thank you though. now go! you’re gonna be late.”
changbin leaves with one last kiss to your forehead and a sweet squeeze around your shoulders.
the jingle of keys, the shuffle of shoes. one last goodbye called over his shoulder before the door slams shut behind him on his way out. the thud of the front door leaves you in an achingly quiet house, so suddenly devoid of that easy laughter and booming voice you love so dearly that the sound of it closing seems to reverberate straight through your bones. your home feels so empty with him gone. it feels empty even though you’re standing in the middle of it, space wide and echoing like it’s missing something important, only made full when your one becomes two again, so full that the floors creak and the rafters pop.
you take hold of your own keys and grab your wallet. you should get out for a bit, order a coffee or something sugary sweet to take your mind off of a quiet house. your index finger nudges the glasses back up the bridge of your nose as you make your way to the door changbin walked out of just moments ago.
the doorknob shocks you when you touch it, and you snatch your hand away with a curse.
“allow me.”
the voice is familiar, of course it is, the bulky stature is as well. what isn’t familiar though, is the chocolatey brown suit that dons his figure, the gelled quiff to his dark hair that exposes his forehead.
changbin stands with his shoulders squared and one hand crossed over the other in front of him, ducking his chin in a light bow when your wide eyes finally meet his. he gestures to the door like he’s politely telling you that you’re standing in the way. there’s an earpiece in one ear, bright pink and fitted, connected to a coiling wire that’s dipping down into the collar of his pristine suit.
“huh?” you ask dumbly. you look him up and down, and when you look back up at his handsome, round face, his ears are tinted pink. “you-? but? you were wearing that stupid shirt?”
that god forsaken dinosaur tee changbin loves so much. the dinosaur and his very good friend, the statue of liberty. your memory doesn’t serve you well all the time, but there’s no way you could forget that shirt.
“ah, you- you don’t like it?” changbin stutters. he runs his hands down his white collared shirt underneath the suit jacket, straightens out any nonexisting wrinkles he thinks you must see, and adjusts his stained glass tie. “i had it ironed! i thought you would- ah. hm,” he coughs. “nonsense! you were headed somewhere, dormouse?”
you shake your head like that will wake you from your stupor. changbin still stands before you, blinking slowly as if he’s waiting for your answer. it’s only when you remove your new glasses to rub closed fists against the corners of your surely dazed eyes does he disappear completely from your vision, just as quick as he came. you look around the entryway to find yourself alone, gawking at the empty space before you. all you can see is the dark wood of your front door, the stained glass of its window.
“what the fuck,” you intone. changbin is cocking his head at you when he appears again, right when you put the glasses back on. “what the fuck? seo changbin, are you messing with me? i just watched you leave!”
“did you?” he asks. changbin frowns, his head cocking the other way now. “well, that can’t be right. i’ve been here all morning! shift starts bright and early, you never know when someone’s going to come knocking.” something seems to click then, and changbin snaps his fingers. “oh! oh, you think i’m- ahhh. that makes sense.” changbin straightens himself up, rights his shoulders again so the breadth of them spans the doorway. he peers at you with a friendly smile and a tilt to his chin. “i’m changbin. not that changbin, just… me changbin. it’s- wow, what a blessing it is to finally meet you officially. we pass each other every day, but i never thought i’d have the chance to really introduce myself.”
“a-and that’s because…?” you blink rapidly, sputter a little bit.
“well because you’re always in a rush! sometimes you even forget to- ah…” he gestures with his hands, miming a key turning in the lock of a door knob. he shivers then, a dreamy smile blooming on his lips, cheeks pink. “you don’t have to worry about that though, i handle it when you’re gone — it’s my job to protect the house when you’re away, and you can trust me to do it well! i’m a much more dependable door since the two of you fixed my hinges.”
you’ve lost your marbles, every single one of them.
“you mean to tell me that i’m standing here talking to my front door?”
he nods excitedly then but is quick to take your disbelief a step further.
“that’s right! well, not just your front door. i’m all of them, really. you can never be too safe.” changbin presses his lips together resolutely and nods once. “listen, i really shouldn’t continue slacking on the job like this, and i can’t help but be distracted by you, dormouse. can i… see you again soon? can i open up to you when there’s more time?”
you’ve lost your marbles, every single one of them, but you can’t say no to those sweet, pleading eyes or that dulcet voice. in all the years you’ve been together, you’ve never been able to, and that hasn’t seemed to change even though this particular changbin is… different than the one you’re used to. your voice has left you — all you can do is nod. changbin takes it in stride.
“i’m so thankful, i promise you won’t regret it. ah, well. it was a pleasure to finally speak with you, my dormouse darling. if you need me, just knock, alright? any door in the house. i’ll be there.”
changbin’s hands curl over one another as you dazedly turn away from him, his gaze hardening in a straightforward, focused stare. his smile is gone, replaced by a curt pout of his lips. they look so small like that.
you return to the kitchen to put your keys and wallet back in the bowl, sweet treat forgotten before you even made it out the door.
made it out the door.
made out with the door? if only. but now is not the time; you’re too flummoxed and frazzled to be thinking about those plump little lips, about how handsome changbin is in his mocha colored tux and his neatly styled hair, with his stern face that lit up like the sun when he spoke to you. and called you a mouse?
you shake your head for what feels to be the millionth time. what the hell is going on? you saw changbin leave this morning, but now here he is standing guard, for some reason, at your front door. are you dreaming?
you pull your phone out of your pocket and swipe your thumb up the screen to unlock it.
google search: how do i know if im dreaming
“to determine if you’re dreaming, you can perform reality checks like examining your hands, reading text, or trying to push your finger through your palm…”
that’s easy enough. you just typed a sentence and read the answer; that’s one down. you take one hand away from your phone to wiggle your fingers next, so the last thing on your list has you curling your fingers into your palm. no hole to be found, just sensitive layers of skin that your nails tickle.
“definitely not dreaming,” you mumble. can he hear you from the entryway? you need to stop talking to yourself before your front door starts to think you’re crazy.
“definitely not, but i can pinch you just to make sure~”
you yelp, turning quickly to face the person speaking into your ear, just as familiar as the voice you heard earlier. you’re almost expecting to see the charming doorman again, but when you glance back towards the front door, you still see him standing stationary. you’re shocked to find this figure both similar and different all at once.
changbin stands before you again, grinning from ear to ear, a pair of techy glasses perched on his round little nose, a metallic colored jacket wrapped around a black, fitted t-shirt. his black cargo pants are baggy, his clunky boots just as metallic as his jacket. there are silver rings on several of his fingers, a keyboard-esque belt wrapped tightly around his thick waist.
“golden delicious!” he beams. “the apple of my eye! it’s me, your gigababe~ you recognize me, don’t you? you should, you know. i’m just saying. we spend a lot of time together.” you look down at the iphone in your hands and back up at him just to be met with a greasy wink. you place your phone back on the counter with a thunk, and he awkwardly rubs his shoulder.
“…changbin?” you venture. he hums sweetly, tittering off into a noise that sounds suspiciously like a text tone. “you’re-? jesus. i feel like i’m going crazy. i don’t know what’s going on.”
“hey, don’t worry.” his eyebrows furrow. changbin caresses your shoulder and leans in close, making sure to look you in the eyes. “you know i’m always here to help. what’s the problem?”
changbin’s tension eases as you explain your morning, and his answer comes easily when he taps a blunt, manicured finger on the frame of the glasses you almost forgot you were wearing. his face goes a little expressionless as he does, his eyes wide and completely white as a jumble of tiny, coded numbers and letters flash across them, the deep brown of his irises only reappearing when he blinks to disperse the code.
“dateviators,” he says plainly. “ha, i like that. that’s funny! anyways, like i said, there really is no need to worry! your fancy new glasses are magic, that’s all. see! you’re not crazy.”
you blink at him — he blinks back.
“magic.”
“magic! can’t you tell?” changbin gestures to himself. “according to some forums i’ve found on the internet, your dateviators allow you to bring everyday household objects to life and pursue relationships with them! for most people it seems like relationships with each object can end in one of three routes. i- well, i don’t see us having that many,” he chuckles, rubs his hand against the back of his neck like he’s suddenly shy.
“wait, what do you mean by us? like- you and i us, or?”
“of course you and i us! the others too though.”
you blink rapidly. you feel like you’re glitching, brain blue-screening like the laptop you accidentally spilled water on back in college. “okay. sure, right. others. the others, as in…?”
“the other changbins!”
another rapid set of blinks, a firm nod that feels far shakier than it is.
“so what you’re telling me is that,” you pause, and changbin leans onto his elbows to listen. “all of the objects i somehow bring to life with these magical glasses will be you? or like, i mean, um. him? you. him, my boyfriend. changbin.”
changbin nods, pursing his lips together to keep himself from laughing. the dimple on his cheek pops cutely. he angles himself back towards you, leans his hip against the counter, and sends you a downwards smile that always has you melting.
“exactly! it seems as if your dateviators show you the things you desire most, and well…” his chest puffs. proud, preening peacock. “you must like me a whole lot~”
“if your chest puffs up anymore you’re going to poke my eyes out with those things,” you grumble. avoiding the subject is no use though — it’s not like you can lie your way out of how much you desire your partner if what he says is true; it’s clearly manifested itself into every nook and cranny of your shared home. “and you said… relationships? routes? what- what does that mean?”
“ahh, you see, from the information i’ve collected online, it looks like they could either fall in love, form a friendship, or hate each other. again! don’t worry though, you don’t have to stress about that.” the pout on your face must give your feelings away. if every item in your house manifests into different versions of changbin, the thought of even one of them hating you has you feeling short of breath. changbin pouts back, leans into your space to nudge your shoulder with his. “why do you look so upset? don’t you know?”
“don’t i know what? i mean, i know you just told me not to stress about it, but! changbin, you don’t get it, i think i’ll die if any of you decide you don’t like me.”
“aiiish,” he breathes. changbin tuts his tongue. “please don’t say that. you really don’t know?” his eyes go white again, flashing with so many numbers and letters that you can’t even begin to follow them. he blinks them away a second time, smiling softly and collecting your hands in his to hold. “i was just doing some scanning again, of my own this time. probabilities, right? every possible outcome there could be. there’s not a single one that- ah, my sweet honeycrisp, you have to know. there is no version of us on this planet that isn’t compatible — no version of changbin that doesn’t already love you. we’re meant to be in every form! isn’t that just wonderful?”
embarrassingly enough, you find that your eyes are beginning to sting. you butt your forehead into changbin’s strong chest like a cat would, and he wraps his arms around you tightly.
changbin is right. isn’t that just wonderful, to be loved so endlessly?
“why- why are you crying?! you… oh, you can’t… do that.” changbin’s voice is soft and sweet, petulant like he’s trying to keep his own emotions at bay. “if you cry, i’ll cry, and i can’t get wet! you’ll have to put me in rice.”
you giggle at that, and the smile on his face tells you that’s exactly what he wanted. your glasses lift when you wipe your eyes — changbin’s lower half disappears and reappears as they adjust back onto your nose.
“sorry,” you whine. “sorry, this is embarrassing.”
“you can’t be embarrassed!” one of his silver rings clinks against his own pair of glasses as he pushes them up his nose. “no, no way. not with me! that was nothing. i know your search history, remember? on eeevery website~” changbin tips forward on his toes to giggle in your ear. you swat at him, and he cackles harder, glasses butting together at the closeness. “ah, look at you. even prettier from this angle, can you believe it? mmm… alright, you should go look for the others. we’re just going to eat you up, apple slice. but you have to remember i’m only one swipe away, okay? even when you go play with the others, just know i’m always here.”
he pats you on the side, a playful encouragement to get your feet moving so you can go exploring.
how do you even find them? how do your magic glasses bring your household items to life? and where did these ridiculous glasses even come from?! you blink hard and shake your head. these are all questions you could probably ask your phon- well, ask changbin, but your feet carry you away from him and past the other one standing quietly at the door. the stairs creak when you walk up them, railing smooth under the tips of your fingers.
it makes sense that you’d find your way back to your bedroom of all places, a silent comfort with how lived in it is, with traces of both you and changbin all around to calm your racing heart. a half empty water bottle on your nightstand, changbin’s sock drawer cracked open. you sit on the corner of the mattress and sigh. it dips under your weight, and you don’t realize you’ve zoned out, staring at nothing-yet-something in particular, until another weight joins you on the bed.
a raspy voice huffs, but it’s weightier than usual, sleepy, and the owner of the voice struggles to slip across the mattress to sit beside you.
socked feet drop to the floor, another sigh but not your own, and the weight of a heavy head rests on your shoulder.
“is it time for a nap yet?”
it’s changbin again, of course it is, but you realize exactly what this changbin is before you turn your gaze towards him. the feeling of nostalgia wraps around you like a well-worn blanket, the scent of your childhood bedroom fills your nose — hand-me-down books, toasted marshmallow scented markers, a watermelon juice stained t-shirt thrown carelessly in an old wicker hamper.
your childhood teddy bear sits on the far corner of the dresser and right beside you now, but one is much bigger than the other.
changbin lifts his head when you turn to look at him. one green button for an eye, a patchwork quilted sweatshirt that must be two sizes too big, and the fluffiest head of hair you’ve ever seen. you always hugged your teddy bear just a little bit too tight when you were young, so changbin doesn’t seem to mind at all when you snake your arms around his broad shoulders and squeeze. he settles into it with a content sigh, chin tucking over your shoulder and relaxing into you completely.
you relax into the hug just as comfortably, tucking your face into his warm neck and nuzzling. it isn’t until you hear a pop, and then another, and another — p-p-pop-pop-pop! — that you pull away to see what the noise was.
“oh, don’t worry about that,” changbin hums sleepily, but he sits up and rolls one shoulder like he’s trying to fix something you can’t see. “it’s just my stuffin’ again. it used to happen all the time when we were little, remember?”
he tugs his sweater to the side by the collar, and you gasp. pink, fraying thread sticks straight up from a neat rip in his clavicle. it seems to have busted right open under the pressure from your hug, polyester fiberfill protruding from the opening like soft cotton candy. it doesn’t reach all the way across to his shoulder, skin still held tightly together by zigzagging pink thread. thank goodness for little mercies; it seems that you only popped half of his stitches.
the first memory sticks out to you, of course it does. you gave yourself a headache with how hard you cried that day, fat, pitiful tears rolling down your puffy cheeks as you handed your teddy bear over to your mother who took him to immediate emergency surgery to fix the accidental rip, gently pushing the stuffing back into his soft, well-loved body and sewing him up until he was almost as good as new.
changbin still carries the scar to prove it, but now you’ve gone and popped it open again.
“i’m so sorry!” you rush, but he shrugs you off. changbin leans back into your space again and noses sweetly at your throat. it feels like velvet felt, ticklish and soft. “i can fix it for you?”
he heaves a heavy, content sigh, grumbles like a sleepy dog. his body has become so lax against yours that his weight sends you plopping down onto the mattress, changbin curled snugly at your side.
“it’s really alright,” he assures. his breathing is slow, the light puffs of air from his nose are warm against the skin of your neck. “it shows how much you love me, doesn’t it? being hugged so hard that i pop… that’s something a bear can only dream of, you know.”
he’s out like a light before you can respond, snoring lightly and twitching in his quick tumble into slumber. you lean up on your palm to admire him, to admire this changbin, so similar to yours yet so different, though it seems like they’re all already yours in their own special way. his button eye, his pouty lips, his round little felt nose. you bend down to kiss it and it scrunches cutely under your attention, but changbin doesn’t wake.
he doesn’t wake when you cover him with the throw blanket from the foot of your bed either, tucking it around his broad shoulders and making a mental note to see about fixing his stuffing problem later.
changbin is fast asleep and unbothered, as unbothered as a bear can be while taking a smallish nap or two.
standing up from the bed and walking away from your soundly sleeping teddy takes a lot of strength, but your newly found excitement to discover more propels you forward. there are so many options, so many changbins to bring to life and discover while you wait for yours to return home. you take a step out of your room. where to go? back down the stairs, to the home gym to your left? the attic?
there’s movement out of the corner of your eye though that stops you in your tracks. not big enough to be a person, not even big enough to be a critter, thank god, just a little twitch from the far corner of the hallway only made possible by the air conditioner clanking on. man, you… really need to dust. and sweep. maybe mop a little bit even. you’re staring such diligent daggers at the billowing piece of gray, fuzzy lint that so rudely interrupted your search for more changbin doppelgängers that you aren’t expecting one to show up right in front of you.
he falls to the floor with a thud then, just before your stunned eyes.
this one is… cute. painfully so. of course he is, with his wide, wide eyes and fluffy pajama pants. gray of course, gray like the thick sweatshirt he wears and gray like the lop ears on his head, twitching profusely as he stares at you in shock. it takes a moment for him to catch up after his fall, and you’re not expecting the flurry of movement as he scrambles away from the corner and takes off down the short hallway. he doesn’t stop when you call his name, so you follow him as quickly as you can, turning the corner just in time to see him ducking into the storage closet beside the door to the attic.
you call his name again quietly before you open the door. knocking would add your stylish doorman to the mix, and you’re not too sure if this skittish version of changbin that’s hiding in your closet could handle a second set of eyes on him. your fingers reach out to pull it open slowly, turning the knob with careful precision so not to spook the fraidy cat that’s hiding inside — or well, fraidy bunny.
he’s crouched in the corner of the closet and hidden not-so-subtly behind a small basket of beach towels, covering his eyes with trembling fingers like you won’t be able to see him as long as he can’t see you. you coo at him; it’s not something you can help, fond sigh slipping from your lips before you can manage to swallow it down. his foot thumps on the hardwood floor once in response, twice, a third time, and he huffs at you like you’re the one making the most racket.
“shhh,” he whispers. you resist the urge to coo again when he brings his hands from his eyes and beckons you inside. he doesn’t give you the chance to turn on the light switch before he’s tugging you down beside him and holding a finger to his lips. “we have to be quiet. he’ll find me!”
it’s almost too stuffy to breathe in here with the door closed. the sleeve of one of changbin’s winter coats flops onto your shoulder from its hanger and you swipe it off. “who? who’ll find you?”
changbin turns away from you suddenly and presses one tall ear to the wall like he’s listening for something you can’t hear. rather than worrying about it, you decide to focus on the cute, dusty colored cotton tail wriggling against your hip. he doesn’t answer your question anyways, not really, just mutters something about a man and his sucking machine.
you blink and blink. it’s getting easier to see in the pitch darkness of your confined storage closet, but everything is tinted an odd, off-yellow because of your glasses. changbin twitches, flexes his foot like he’s about to thump it again. his lop ears flap instead.
“um. sucking machine?”
he turns back to you with wide eyes and grabs onto the sleeve of your shirt. “yes! it’s so loud. he caught my tail in it the other day and it really hurt. but you don’t… you’ve never used one, have you?”
there’s a joke in there somewhere. your silly boyfriend might brazenly insist he’s seen you use a sucking machine on many occasions. in fact, there’s one right on your face, right below your nose. one he enjoys thoroughly and frequently.
but the bunny beside you is already so distressed, already looking at you with forlorn eyes and a quiver to his chin. are those whiskers on his cheeks? he visibly relaxes into your side when you confirm that you’ve never used a sucking machine, even though you hardly have the faintest clue of what that could be. you let him nuzzle you; he’s a lot similar to the sleeping teddy bear you left in your bedroom right up until the moment he starts butting your shoulder with the side of his head. the nudge of his head is light and doesn’t hurt, but he gets sulky when you don’t realize quickly enough what it is that he’s looking for. changbin huffs.
“you’re supposed to pet me now.”
“oh!” it’s not like that’s a difficult task. you reckon every version of changbin likes to be pet, a constant across all forms. he’s as sweet as spun sugar, velvet soft ears twitching in content under the gentle caress of your fingers when they move to his head. his hair is just as soft, curly and slightly unkempt from his needy nudging. “you’re so soft, changbinnie.”
the press of his cheek against your shoulder is soft too. so is the quiet chatter of his teeth, the gentle grind of them muted through the plushness of his smushed cheek. he’s not cold like you might assume, he’s not afraid. his foot taps the floor every few seconds in a relaxed thump.
this dust bunny is as pleased as pie if the signs tell you anything.
his head is in your lap before you know it, sweatshirt rucked up so you can rub his belly while your other hand smoothes along his ears. changbin isn’t asleep but he’s not far from it; his eyes are droopy.
“how about,” you whisper. changbin blinks up at you. “you tell me where to find the man you’re hiding from, and i’ll tell him not to use that mean old sucking machine anymore, huh? how could anyone ever hurt somebunny this cute.”
changbin wiggles then, body twitching oddly like he should be standing up to wiggle correctly. a slight kick to his bent legs, a jerk of his hips. changbin grins and sits up before he leans back towards the wall and presses his ear to it. he listens for a moment, and when he’s satisfied that he doesn’t hear any suspicious noises, then and only then does he turn the knob to the closet, helping you stand up from your seated position and stretching when he finally steps into the hallway.
your knees are asleep — there’s static in your feet. shaking out your legs keeps you stationary long enough for changbin to circle you once. he does it again and once more for good measure, weaving around your body with bright eyes and a sated smile.
“you will?!” he asks. “you’ll tell him? oh, how exciting! i won’t have to keep hiding… alright, listen. he’s usually in the closet in the laundry room. that’s where he keeps that machine at least. you have to be brave. do you really think you can do it?”
you think you’d do just about anything to keep that smile on his face.
with a parting scritch to his fuzzy ears, you make your way down the creaking stairs to find whatever, whoever, is scaring the sweet bunny who’s made your acquaintance.
everything clicks into place when you walk through the kitchen and open the closet in your laundry room to find your cleaning supplies. a broom, several cans of spray, clorox wipes and sponges, and what can only be the infamous sucking machine. bright purple and dark black, with a crevice tool attached to the side. you weren’t even lying when you told that scaredy bunny you had never used a sucking tool. your boyfriend is the one who typically handles the vacuuming.
you focus your attention on the vacuum long enough to feel a prim finger tap you on the shoulder.
there he is again, this one different from the rest of the changbins you’ve encountered so far today, frilly headband on his head, equally frilly black dress donning his broad figure yet leaving his shapely legs on display. there’s a white apron tied around his thick waist and a pink microfiber cloth sticking out of one of the pockets.
now this… this is something you’ve seen before, although under very different circumstances.
“ohhh, you’re a maid!”
he rolls his eyes fondly, but gestures to the closet so you’ll move out of his way. he reaches for the feather duster on the middle shelf. “i’m your housekeeper, scrubbing bubbles. who else would you trust to keep your house while the two of you are away?” changbin flutters the feather duster across the top of your head before he glides it across the doorframe of the closet. “is there something you need? something you want me to clean for you?”
“not- i mean, no, not really. i guess i do need something from you though.”
he hums, titters around you waving his feather duster like it’s his very own fairy wand.
“a favor!” he exclaims. changbin swishes the duster across the doorknob and sticks the handle in his apron pocket. now that you have his full attention, he regards you with a glint in his eye. “all favors come with a price~”
you scoff then. “what, you want me to scrub the sinks or something? windex all the windows?”
“no, i can do those things myself!” cute and huffy, petulant at even the mere thought of you doing chores for him while he does what, prop his feet up? reads a magazine? naps? his lips quirk then, something cocksure and confident. your eyes follow his as they tick to your nose and then your lips, gaze lifting right back up to your eyes almost as soon as it left. “i want something more than that. something better!”
as soon as the words leave his lips, a fluffy head of hair and a pair of wide eyes peer around the kitchen corner to spy. lop ears follow, drooping down and swaying limply with the sideways angle of his head. changbin tiptoes from the corner and moves quietly into the kitchen, making a slow turn into your downstairs hallway to — you guess — find another hiding spot. his backside is still visible when your housekeeper turns around and moves fully into the kitchen to straighten the chairs set at the kitchen table, so you jump into action before your skittish dust bunny gets caught sneaking.
“a kiss!” you squeak. the chair grates on the linoleum, and changbin’s smile turns mischievous. “how about a kiss?”
“a kiss, you say?” a widening grin, handsomely raised eyebrows. he crosses his arms in front of his wide chest at your answering nod, and the juxtaposition of such a masculine stance paired with his ruffled maid dress has your mind whirling. he steps closer to you then, close enough for you to feel his breath on your cheek and feel the warmth of his body. you’re half expecting him to kiss you first, but all he does is drop his eyes to your lips again. he’s still looking at them when he speaks. “you’re forward. you know what you want… i really like that.”
“is that a yes?” you ask, nothing more than a breath. your own eyes flutter to his lips then, still quirked in one corner and so inviting.
“i was just going to ask if you’d fix me something for lunch,” he laughs. it’s airy and quiet, purposefully undisruptive. “of course it’s a yes. i’ll take a kiss from you over a sandwich any day.”
you lean forward with a vigor not lost to you, and you meet in the middle with a flurry of limbs and the sweet press of eager lips. your arms wrap around his neck, his uncross to hold you in different places — one firm hand caresses the back of your neck while the other dips to your back. it’s a quaint kiss overall, close-lipped and chaste until changbin rumbles a low hum and deepens the kiss himself. his lips part slightly, his tongue laps against your bottom lip and acquaints itself with yours greedily. his grip pulls you closer; your fingers curl into his hair and grab hold of a strong shoulder. you’re so focused on the unhurried slide of your lips that you hardly notice the clatter of his headband on the linoleum floor beneath you.
the wet smack of your lips in the otherwise quiet kitchen heats your cheeks. it licks down your spine, coils itself somewhere deep in your belly. heady sighs and the rustle of roaming hands, a whimper is punched from your throat when changbin’s fingers slide themselves into the hair at the nape of your neck.
he pulls away from your mouth with a smack; his lips are puffy and pink, slick, kissable all over again, such an unyielding cycle. changbin’s smile is dazed, but his fingers are sure where they hold you. he licks his lips, tasting you again. “i liked that noise.”
you want another kiss, but he’s already dragging his thumb across your own slick bottom lip to wipe away the excess moisture. you bet your hair is a mess after that. the lack of steady oxygen still has you feeling swimmy in the most wonderful way. you watch changbin smooth out his dress after picking up his headband and adjust the band with your own shaky fingers when he’s done, straightening it for him while he stands primly in place.
what do you even say after a kiss like that? wow? your boyfriend has definitely said that before. that was fun? good work, champ? we fit together like puzzle pieces? i hope we kiss like that until the end of time?
changbin beats you to it though, when he snaps his fingers like he’s remembering something. “oh!” he exclaims. “what was that favor you wanted to ask me, scrubbing bubbles?”
huh. that’s right. you have a favor to ask him. that’s why you kissed each other breathless in the first place.
“uh, yeah. yes, i did have a favor for you, didn’t i?” he nods, looking almost annoyingly proud that he has rendered you so speechless. “the vacuum. can you not…? can you not use it, please.”
“can i not use the vacuum?!” he bellows. he runs his fingers through his hair in anguish and knocks the headband off a second time. “vacuuming is crucial for a clean house! how could- how could i forfeit something so important—!”
a kiss to his talking lips. you reach for him again and he sinks into you like it’s as easy as breathing. your kiss is short this time but no less heated than your last. you part from him once more with another slick sounding smack. changbin’s lips stay puckered goofily even as you lean away, and he blinks rapidly like he’s trying to wake himself up from a daze.
oh, how the tables have turned.
“—i mean, i don’t have to vacuum,” he says. “i don’t even like vacuuming that much. sweeping! i’ll sweep instead. but- but- why exactly am i not vacuuming?”
“you’re scaring that cute dust bunny.”
“oh. him… he is kind of cute for a piece of lint, i guess. is he cuter than me though? this dress comes in pink too, you know. it’s backless! and- oh, it’s almost time for the spin cycle to be done, isn’t it?” changbin grabs your cheeks in his hands and hauls you in for another kiss. it’s a peck this time, quick and loud and silly. “that was fun, huh?~ we’ll have to do that again sometime.”
he putters quickly over to the washing machine and leaves you to your own devices. you could always go find where your dust bunny is hiding or take a nap with your teddy bear upstairs. a hop and a skip over to the entrance of your living room shows your phone plopped comfortably on the couch and watching a movie, hand sunk deep in a bowl of popcorn. your front door remains as sturdy and stoic as ever. sure, you could happily join one of the changbins you’ve already met today, or…
or you could continue finding more of them.
but your stomach rumbles something horrible before you can decide where to go exploring next. that monstrous sound is as good of an answer as any; lunch shouldn’t be your only finding in the kitchen, there must be handsome boyfriends to discover here too.
cans of soda and glass bottles clink together on the side shelf as you open the refrigerator door. you look long and hard; there are leftovers from last night’s dinner you could heat in the air fryer, some fruit you could cut up and eat with some caramel on the side. there might be a box of pasta in the pantry, actually.
someone standing behind the door of the fridge isn’t something you’re expecting to see when you close it — thank god you weren’t holding anything in your hands. your busy, bustling housekeeper might not be too keen on kissing you anymore if you were to spill something all over his clean floor. changbin startles in surprise at the same time you do, an awkward sound leaving his lips like he wasn’t anticipating a similar reaction from you.
“holy shit!” you wheeze.
“cheese and crackers!”
you speak at the same time. changbin’s hand comes up to cover his heart as he takes a deep, steadying breath. roaming eyes take him in where he stands, and really, it makes sense he looks the way he does since you did find him in the kitchen, though this is definitely not a look you’re used to. he’s holding a purple spatula in one hand, a cookbook in the other. changbin is casually dressed and wearing a pair of comfortable house slippers, adorned in a long sleeved shirt that he’s rolled up to his elbows and a pair of nice, dark wash, expensive, flattering, fitted, tight, thigh-hugging… jeans.
when you finally manage to snatch your eyes away from his thick thighs, his white apron catches your attention next, haltered around his neck and tied around his waist.
KISS THE COOK BUT DON’T TOUCH THE BUNS!
ironic. funny, even. you seem to recall your boyfriend enjoying a good touch to the buns every now and then.
“not even a pinch?” you tease. that kiss has made you brazen.
“of salt? a pinch of what?” changbin tilts his head at you in confusion until he notices where you’re looking. he ducks his chin to follow your gaze and promptly rolls his eyes, a scoff leaving his subtly quirking lips. “no! not- not right now… i’m at work, cupcake.”
changbin places the cookbook on the kitchen counter and flips through its pages. he’s still holding the spatula and waving it around as if he’s talking with it instead of his hands, mouthing ingredients to himself and involuntarily ignoring you in his endearingly one-track concentration.
he startles again when he lifts his eyes from the cookbook, almost like he didn’t remember that you were standing across from him.
“oh,” he quips. changbin points the spatula at you. “what are you doing back here, anyway? you’re not supposed to be in my kitchen!”
“but it’s my kitchen? this is literally my house.”
he ponders that for a moment but ultimately finds your argument plausible.
“yes, that’s right, isn’t it? then that must make me your chef, sous chef! what would you like for lunch?”
your eyelashes flutter. how strange! of all the doppelgängers you’ve met so far, this one might blow your mind the most. even more than the bunny with lop ears and a cotton tail, more than the button-eyed, stuffing-filled teddy bear. changbin is usually your sous chef at home, if anything, not the other way around. he’s not exactly hopeless in the kitchen as long as he’s left with rules to follow and some soft-handed guidance. there hasn’t been any eggshells in your scrambled eggs lately, so you really think he’s making progress.
the possibilities seem endless now. changbin, a real chef! box of pasta in your pantry be damned, he could probably make the noodles from scratch if he wanted to. maybe he could surprise you with something from that cookbook he’s reading. a surprise… that sounds like it could be fun.
you’ve just gotten the words out of your mouth when someone else walks into the kitchen. your phone is carrying his empty popcorn bowl, boots shuffling on the linoleum floor. he shoots you a wink and places his bowl in the sink.
“gorgeous gala! i’ve been missing you. are you having fun with the others?” changbin takes a seat at the kitchen table and pushes the chair out beside him, beckoning you to take a seat. your knee knocks against his where you sit, and changbin snakes his arm across the back of your chair.
you tell him then who you’ve met so far, the fun you’ve been having. you leave out the life-altering kiss you shared with your housekeeper, but if changbin’s been in the living room since you left him this morning, he might have gotten a glimpse of it himself.
“i’m just a little hungry now. you guys have really made me work up an appetite.” he grins at that, proud to be part of the reason you want to eat something yummy. “chef seo here is just about to make me some lunch!”
changbin’s eyes widen, looking back and forth from you to the other changbin piddling around at the stove. he leans into you then, so close that you can see the light reflecting from his glasses.
“you have to- ah, how do i say this…” he drums his fingers quietly against the kitchen table in thought and twists one of his rings. “be gentle with him, okay? he’s not the best, but he’s trying! just look at him up there.” changbin coos then, looking at the other one fondly with a tilt of his head and a kind smile. “he made me popcorn while i was watching my movie, isn’t that so nice? sugarbee, listen to me. it was so burnt i thought i must be eating a bowl full of soot.”
“oh? oh my. and you still ate it all?”
“of course i did!” he whispers firmly. “look at that face, you can’t say no to a face like that!”
you jump apart from each other when a plate clatters onto the table in front of you. changbin stands there sheepishly but folds his hands behind himself to bow slightly.
“sorry! i didn’t mean to drop it like that. okay, well. lunch is served, sweet pea. today’s chef special is pancakes with chocolate chips, a syrup drizzle, and powdered sugar. i put some fruit on the side for some extra flavor as well. oh, and! here. an ice cold glass of water to wash it all down. i hope you enjoy. everything is made with love, sugar dear, and of course, flour, milk, eggs, baking powder…”
he’s still prattling on about his list of ingredients as he turns away from the table and heads back to the stove to clean up.
you look down at the pancakes then. they’re nothing michelin star, nothing you would find at a gourmet restaurant, but the pancake on top has a wonky chocolate chip smiley face and a powdered sugar beard, and you’re going to demolish these pancakes no matter how they taste.
they’re stacked three high. you decide to bite the bullet and just go for it. encouraged by the wide eyed anticipation from your human cellphone beside you, you cut into the top pancake and shove a small piece in your mouth. it’s definitely an… interesting combination. the chocolate chips on the outside are slightly charred from the stove, the inside of the pancake, however, definitely needed to cook a little longer. it’s a tad doughy, yet still slightly chalky with undissolved pieces of flour. you take a minute to chew and swallow, and your nosy neighbor leans in close.
“how is it?” he asks earnestly.
“…it’s so hard to get a pancake just right, you know,” you placate. changbin nods his head so hard it bobbles.
it doesn’t take too long to finish the top one. honestly, it’s not inedible. the bites of uncooked pancake make your mouth a little sticky and your spit a little thick, but the smiling chocolate chips and sweet syrup help to mask the taste of dough.
that just leads to your second pancake though, a complete contrast of your first. this pancake is so burnt that that’s all you taste when you bite into it. changbin winces sadly beside you when the pancake actually crunches under the gnashing of your teeth. admittedly, you don’t think you can get through this one as easily as the first, no matter how perfectly melted the chocolate chips are inside. you slide your knife down the middle of the pancake and tilt your plate towards changbin.
he pinches his mouth shut.
“mm-mm.”
“yes, you have to help me!” you frantically whisper, mouth dry.
“i’m not hungry, i just had popcorn!”
you push your plate toward him. “you told me that you were one swipe away! this is me swiping. i am swiping.”
he grumbles then, mumbles something whiny about you using his own words against him, which, sure. just this once. he takes one quick glance at the stove to see the other changbin still cleaning away his mess and grabs the remaining half of the pancake with his hand, shoving it in his small mouth unceremoniously.
of course your chef chooses to turn around right then, and he blanches at the sight of changbin with his mouth full.
“i jus’ had to haf a bite,” he explains, words muffled with his cheeks stuffed to the brim. he plucks a strawberry off the side of the plate to use as a chaser.
the third pancake actually doesn’t look half bad. it doesn’t seem burnt by the looks of it, although the chocolate chip smiley face looks more like it’s crying now due to the warmth of the other pancakes stacked on top. the inside remains a mystery until you cut a piece off and bring it to your lips while both changbins watch.
you gawk then, eyes widening in not-so-subtle shock at just how perfect the last pancake is. fully cooked and fluffy, with just the right amount of sweetness from the chocolate and maple syrup. it’s even better when you grab a blueberry on your fork with the next bite.
“changbin,” you say. it’s nearly a moan. his ears are pink, but you’re not sure if that’s from your tone of voice or from watching you eat something he made for you. “this is amazing!”
the smile that spreads across his face lights up the room. he’s so beautiful like this, when his cheeks bunch and his eyes crinkle. there’s a new found confidence in the way he holds himself before you, a proudness now that he knows he fed you well. ish.
“you think?” he asks. he rocks forward on his toes and back on his heels. “you enjoyed it, honeydew? i’m so glad! i tried something new and really wanted it to be special. and you-” he turns to the changbin seated beside you and points at him with his spatula. when did he pick that up? “you liked it too? i’ll add it to the regular menu!”
you bring the fork to changbin’s mouth so he can taste the last little bit of perfectly edible pancake on your plate and receive a happy text tone in return, something chirpy and bright. he taps his feet while he chews and shoots your chef a hearty thumbs up. he leaves soon after that with a parting kiss to your cheek, sticky, syrup sweet. back to the living room he goes — you can hear the television resume its place.
the remaining changbin takes your empty plate and discards it in the sink. he washes his hands then, unties the apron from around his waist but leaves the halter around his neck when he’s done. changbin turns back to you and shuffles to sit beside you at the table. he cups a hand over yours, caressing your knuckles with a calloused thumb.
it’s quieter now, more intimate than it was.
“thank you for making me lunch,” you say. you turn your thumb to catch his, linking them together before entwining your fingers. “you and my changbin could have a lot of fun together in here.”
“oh really? is he passionate about cooking too? i thought he was mainly a taste-tester. we’ll have to bounce ideas off of each other then! share tips and tricks. we can- or i can… i could cook for you again?” he squeezes your hand. the tips of his ears are red, pretty pink beginning to bleed all the way down to the lobes. “if you wanted. like a date.”
it’s not something you have to think about, even with his questionable cooking skills. you didn’t have to think when your changbin asked you on a date either, nor did you have to think when he asked if you wanted to be in a relationship with him, or if you wanted to move in together. there’s another question you hope he’ll ask soon, one that you won’t hesitate to answer either. it comes easy with changbin. it always comes easy with changbin, you’re learning, no matter which one.
“of course i’ll go on a date with you,” you smile. changbin smiles back, soft and slow. “how about we cook something together? wouldn’t that be romantic?”
“it would. that would be romantic! oh, biscuits. is that the time? i’ve gotta get started again, pudding pop, the lunch rush will be here soon! you’ll find me again though, won’t you? if you’re hungry again, i’ll make anything your heart desires.”
he’s up in a flurry, tying his apron around his waist and opening the refrigerator with a sense of renewed vigor.
there’s only one thing to do with your belly this full.
you pass your lovely phone again when you walk through the living room. your handsome doorman regards you with a smile and a dreamy afternoon, dormouse. his eyes are on you while you walk up the stairs that lead to your bedroom. you can feel them, dark, calculating, heavy. if you sway your hips a little extra and take your steps a little slower to keep his stare on you for longer, that’s your business and yours alone. you meet his eyes on the top step though, turning your head over your shoulder to blow him a small, teasing kiss. his head ducks then like you caught him with his hand in the cookie jar, but there’s a pleased smile on his face that makes you giggle.
your teddy bear is right where you left him even hours later, snuggled deep in the throw blanket from the foot of your bed. his eyes flutter as you crawl into bed and curl up beside him. they never open all the way, but his burly arms do. he pulls you into his warm embrace and tangles his legs with yours, and you’re asleep the moment your head hits his chest.
when you wake again, the sun is a little further down in the sky than it was, and a loose piece of changbin’s stuffing is stuck to your bottom lip. your glasses are smushed uncomfortably close to your face, courtesy of the warm, sturdy chest you’re laying on. a glance above you shows that sweet, sleepy bear still in the land of the dreaming, so you detangle yourself from him as gently as you can and sit on the corner of the bed to think.
you have a whole lot of house left to explore and even more changbins to find before the one you miss the most returns home to you. it’s with that thought in mind that you decide exactly where to go next.
it’s arguably one of changbin’s favorite rooms in the house. close enough to the bedroom that he can get there easily. there’s a television on the wall and a full body mirror to its right, a treadmill in the corner. changbin’s workout bench sits along the wall beside his dumbbell rack. you’re honestly not in here a lot. your pilates mat is rolled up in the corner, and changbin has started using your dumbbells to warm up. maybe some encouragement couldn’t hurt, maybe that’s exactly what you need to get back into the swing of things. though you don’t know how any other changbin could be more encouraging or persuasive than your own when it comes to working out.
the treadmill is what you focus your yellow-tinted sight on. it only takes a moment for the glasses to do their thing, and soon, there’s grunting coming from changbin’s bench behind you, followed by heavy breathing and a one-off curse.
you turn to see him then, black, fitted tank top and all. if you didn’t know any better, you’d think this changbin was yours, the only real difference you see is the pink striped sweatbands around his head and his wrists. he’s wearing a pair of black athletic shorts and equally black weightlifting shoes, but the laces are pink. he’s got one knee propped on the bench and a palm pressed to it too, working on his biceps.
changbin hasn’t noticed you yet and you’re glad he hasn’t. he’s in his element like this, focused, disciplined. that principled mindset he always carries is just as attractive as the body he’s worked so diligently for. just as arousing too, the heat rising in your belly is only aided by his dripping sweat, flexing muscles, and gruff noises.
“…six, seven,” he huffs. it’s the crossing of your legs that gets his attention — of course you catch his attention by being horny over him just existing, but he does a double take and straightens his posture when he sees your eyes on him. the arch of his back is criminal. “… thirty eight, thirty nine, forty…”
“oh wow,” you grin. changbin places his dumbbell back on the rack with a grunt and puff of his cheeks. he rubs his hands together then, bounces his shoulders. “is that a new record?”
changbin laughs, an embarrassed little thing. he rubs at the back of his neck and makes a face when his hand comes away wet with sweat. “ah, yeah. i mean, i always do my best when i have an audience.”
“you have a lot of people who come to watch you?”
“well, sometimes.” he starts counting on his fingers. “the trophies come watch me a lot. there’s that soccer jersey? he’s new around. and the nice housekeeper watches when he cleans up in here! they’re not as pretty as you are though, so, you know. i don’t need to impress them as much.”
such a sweet talker.
“you want to impress me?” you ask, a tilt to your head. that brazenness is back with a vengeance. “why?”
“so you’ll come back to see me, of course. but hey, you’re here already, champ! that counts for something. i was just actually about to get ready for my next set, you wanna join?”
well. not particularly. you’d actually much rather sit to the side and ogle him while he works out, twirl your hair and giggle when he takes a long sip of water maybe. but you went all in with all of the other changbins you met, so might as well go all in with this one too, leg aches in the morning be damned.
“i haven’t really done this in a while,” you clarify. changbin nods his head in understanding, and his eyes are kind as he listens raptly. “i’d like to join you, but you’ll have to go easy on me this time.”
“hell yeah! we’ll take it at your speed, champ, it’ll be fun! i’ve got just the thing in mind, but hey- can’t have you pullin’ a muscle. we’ve gotta stretch you out.”
yes. yes, that sounds like a great idea, being stretched out.
you’re feeling it now. that ache, that mounting need for changbin that makes your thoughts fuzzy and soaks your panties. it’s been building under the surface all day with each changbin you’ve met, with each one showing you their heart in their own special ways. you don’t think you could handle another easy touch without throwing yourself at their feet. you can’t handle another confident smile or gentle caress or silly pet name. or a kiss. a kiss. a kiss would ruin you; a kiss would break you down completely, turn you into something malleable and saccharine.
the ache deepens at the thought. being stretched out… on his tongue, his fingers, his cock. changbin fits inside of you like he belongs there; there’s no truer thought to be had.
you’re still thinking about it when changbin places a hand on your shoulder to bring you out of your daze.
“you alright?” he asks. the tilt of his head makes him look so puppyish. “are you still feeling up to it? i promise we’ll have fun! i- hm, you know what? i think i know what’s wrong.”
he’s found you out already. he can see it in your eyes, how you want him to lay you on his workout bench and have his way with you.
“and what might that be?”
“you’re intimidated,” changbin shrugs. he presses his lips together and nods. “listen, i get it. it’s normal. you’re just intimidated by these guns.” in a dramatic flare of movement, he poses. double biceps, bulging and sculpted. he pops his pec muscles until you’re giggling. “come on, you wanna touch? you totally wanna touch, bring it in!”
the first touch to his popping pec makes you squeal, and changbin laughs in accomplishment. he’s successfully gotten you out of your head and he knows it.
“okay! okay, i mean. i bet i could do that too, i’m just saying.” changbin raises his eyebrows. your comment makes his grin turn mischievous at the corners. “you said something about stretching…?”
“yes, that’s right! here.”
changbin leads you in some easy stretches. you stretch your shoulders and your neck and roll your ankles. you’re already feeling loose until you start to work your legs, the butterfly stretch you’re sitting in sends an uncomfortable twinge through your thighs, but that’s the point isn’t it? you’re stretching, loosening your muscles and releasing their tightness.
changbin finally takes notice of your wincing when you move to stretch your hamstring out. reaching down to your toes isn’t going to happen, but you can at least skirt your fingers across your lower shin.
“your legs are tense, huh?” changbin asks. he sits up on his knees and walks over to you on them. “let me help?”
the closer he gets, the more you lean back, and you’re reclined back on your elbows before you know it. changbin kneels between your spread legs and looks to you for confirmation. his hand touches your knee first — and there you go, that touch, you’re ready to bare your neck and give yourself to him. the higher his hand travels, the harder you bite your lip.
“is this alright?” his voice has gone quiet and slow around the edges, dipped in honey. “i’ll just… i want to help. your muscles must be really tight.”
you’re nodding before he finishes speaking, but that must not be good enough. changbin keeps his hand above your knee and squeezes it.
“yes,” you heave, finally finding your words. “it’s alright. you can- you can.”
the touch moves then, calloused fingers on soft, tender skin. propped up on your elbows like this, you can see everything. the way those thick digits work along your skin, the concentration on his face. his hand slips up your thigh then and squeezes, kneads, bares the heel of his palm against the meat in a semblance of a massage. both of his hands are magical — the dig of his thumb into the quivering muscle of your thigh makes your eyes roll. he pays the same careful attention to your other thigh, his own eyes locked on the heavy caress of his fingers.
“can i try something else? you’re still so tight here.”
his ears are pink, but those eyes, that gaze of his. it’s so heavy that it feels like it’s holding you down, pinning you in place.
your nod is good enough for him this time; maybe you’re not the only one who’s desperate. changbin’s hand smooths up the back of your thigh until it’s cupping underneath your knee. he lifts it then, so slowly that you end up easing off of your elbows and laying flat on your back, leg hoisted over his shoulder like it would be if you were naked together. his breathing has gone ragged, heavy in his belly. yours isn’t much better, and the heat of the room is causing your glasses to fog up. changbin leans his weight forward and stretches your leg back, straightening it out as he goes. it burns, but changbin’s fingers are there to dull the pain into something more bearable.
he can’t help but lean into you. no matter how strong his thighs are or how balanced his core is, gravity still plays a part in the weight he bears onto you. you can’t help but notice where you’re joined in the middle, the heat of his growing bulge pressed tight to the heat of your cunt while your leg is thrown over his shoulder. your panties are starting to stick to you — can he feel it? can changbin feel how ready you are for him through your layers of clothes?
he brings your other leg up to show it the same attention, and he eases the first leg down but stretches it to the side, keeping his hand under your knee to keep it bent. your pussy pulses, clenches arrhythmically against his bulge. his gaze goes heavy lidded; he can feel you, he can feel how hungry you are for him but continues stretching your legs despite how hard he’s growing.
“you’re hard for me. it’s- it’s because of me, isn’t it?” you angle your hips to meet him, and he growls.
there’s a kiss pressed to your ankle and a squeeze underneath your bent knee.
“of course it is,” he grunts. “of course it’s because of you. the way your muscles relax for me… it feels so good knowing that i can do that to you.”
you whine something truly pitiful when he lowers your leg again and eases his weight off of you. he smooths his hands along your thighs, pets down your calves like he’s trying to focus on the feel of your clammy skin rather than the hardness in his shorts.
“you still up for our workout? those pretty legs of yours should be ready to go now, don’t you think?”
the change in pace is almost like night and day. you’re not expecting to be left high and dry so quickly, but you did say you’d do his next set with him. funny for you to assume someone your magical glasses brought to life from a treadmill would prioritize sex over a good, old fashioned workout.
changbin helps you to your feet and leads you toward the television mounted on the wall. he reaches into the console underneath it and pulls out two white remotes with a smug glint in his eye.
after several countless grueling matches of just dance and three water breaks, you’re completely wiped out. you’re sweating more than you have in a good while, and despite your valiant efforts to stretch your legs, they feel like they’re going to fall off.
“good game, champ,” changbin heaves from his spot on the floor. thank god you’re not a sore loser — he tore you up. how could you forget he can move his hips like that? changbin has ripped his sweatband off his head and is using it to wipe the sweat off of his face. his adam’s apple bobs as he takes another long swig of water, and droplets streak down his chin when he speaks up again. “you should hit the showers. the water will feel crazy good on all those muscles we just worked. and hey, i really enjoyed myself today! maybe we can do it again sometime, i have a couple other things i’d like for us to try.”
you can’t tell if he’s coming onto you or if he genuinely just wants you as a workout partner again, but you’d be happy to find out either way.
changbin swats his sweatband against your ass when you finally leave and throws a handsome wink your way at the turn of your head.
he’s right though — you should hit the showers. you smell like sweat and workout equipment, and even though you know your boyfriend wouldn’t mind that ever familiar scent, you want to smell nice for him when he gets home.
conveniently enough, you don’t have to walk very far. your en-suite bathroom is right between your bedroom and the home gym.
eager to strip your sweaty clothes off, that’s the first thing you do. how ridiculous do you look standing butt ass naked in your bathroom in a pair of yellow sunglasses? oh well. you don’t exactly want to take a shower by yourself, and you need your glasses to do their job. eyeing the glass door does the trick, and you’re in the middle of sliding it open to reach for the nozzle when a calloused hand reaches for yours to stop it, gentle palm caressing the back of yours.
“let me,” your shower hums with an alluring tone. he’s warm behind you, bare skin on bare skin. “i know you like me hot.”
changbin cranks the knob in a counterclockwise motion and the water sprays to life. you study him while the water heats up, taking immediate note of the water droplets clinging to his damp hair and beading on his broad shoulders. he’s almost completely naked save for the fluffy blue towel wrapped around his waist. his chest his slick with water, soap bubbles hug his collarbones. changbin’s skin is like strawberries dipped in honey, dewy like he just got out of the shower rather than waiting to get back in it.
he takes note of your ardent gaze. of course he does, it’s not like you’re hiding the covetous roaming of your pupils across the ridges and curves of that big, slick, soapy body.
a confident smirk tugs at the corner of his lips when he decidedly drops his towel and stands naked before you.
you’ve seen him this way more than you can count, bare in the most base, intimate way, but the sight of him still makes you want to prostrate yourself at his altar like a sinner, pleading to a merciful, benevolent god. changbin’s body is a temple, a house of worship that beckons you.
this changbin doesn’t feign shyness. he lets you look at him, makes himself a spectacle for your viewing. it’s only when the water warms up does he step under the rain of the shower and hold a hand towards you. slick to the touch, you let him help you inside the steaming shower, glasses and all. they fog up from the steam immediately, distorting that seraphic face, that ambrosial body. you see his shape but not his expression, but the tender brush of his fingertips expresses everything his face ever could.
“you’re so beautiful. i’ve been hoping you would join me like this for so long now. don’t get me wrong, just having you in here every night is special, allowing me to be the one to wash the stress off of your body…” he clicks his tongue. “but this… this is more than i could ever ask for.”
changbin’s hands glide up your back. he cards his thick fingers through your hair and guides you toward the spray to wet it fully, cupping his hand above your glasses to keep the water from getting in your eyes.
you cling to his arms. “bin.”
it’s the first word you’ve spoken to this one, breathless and yearning.
“sudsy,” he replies just the same way. “let me wash your hair, hm? would you let me?”
it’s an easy yes, and of course his hands feel like magic. combing through your hair, scratching gentle fingers at your scalp. he manages to rinse the shampoo from your hair even as you cling to him like a limpet, chests pressed together and arms wrapped around the breadth of his shoulders.
water cascades around you. the soap from changbin’s collarbones thickens and trails between your heaving chests, slicking the slide of your wet skin together. he lets you rub against him, aides the needy curling and desperate writhing of your body with a hand on your waist and another palming the dip of your lower back. the heavy press of his thick thigh between yours is almost earth shattering — everything is so wet, everything, sticky-sweet pussy slipping across his skin with hardly any friction. you whine then; changbin hisses as you dig your nails into his shoulders.
his lips press feverishly to yours, all wet heat and desire, meshing lips bumping together wildly. he sucks on your tongue and almost sends you to your knees, only held up by the grip he has on you.
changbin must realize how frantic you’re becoming because he shushes you after he pulls away, nuzzles his wet little nose against yours and takes a deep breath.
“there’s no rush. there’s no rush, we have time. won’t you enjoy yourself? let your best shower pamper you, sudsy. let me bathe you. let me feel you like that. please? please.”
he’s already reaching for a wash cloth and your favorite bottle of body wash, but you stop him in his tracks before he’s able to squeeze a dollop onto the rag. your fingers graze his knuckles. changbin looks at you like you hung the moon. more like you hung his curtains.
“do it with your hands.”
it’s said quietly enough that it doesn’t read as a command, but changbin takes it as one, eyes pleading and besotted as he rubs his soapy hands together and brings them to your waiting body. changbin is gentle with you. there’s a firmness in his hands as he scrubs you clean, but he’s careful, attentive to the way you react to him.
a whimper crawls its way out of his throat when he massages the mounds of your chest; his thumbs drag over your peaked nipples that pebble even further under his touch. changbin echoes the small sounds of pleasure you breathe into the air with his own.
“everything about you is a gift,” he muses. he whispers the words into your neck just as a steady hand snakes between your legs. there’s nothing mechanical about the way he touches you there because he touches you with such devotion, but it’s obvious that his sole intent really is just to bathe you. you wish he’d dip those fingers inside, curl them deep until your legs are trembling and you’re crying out his name. he sucks a slow kiss into your neck, kisses up the length of it to mouth at your cheek. “you’re so warm.”
he drops to his knees then. it’s a slow fall, purposeful, changbin’s eyes remain locked on yours all the way until he reaches the tile.
soapy hands slide up your legs, your thighs. he picks up your feet one by one and slips his bubbly fingers between your ticklish toes. you grab onto his shoulders to keep your balance, but soon, all he’s kneeling for is to press reverent kisses to your thighs and the soft skin of your stomach. his hands caress everywhere he can reach.
“when you…” changbin drags his tongue up your thigh to catch a rivulet of warm water. his words are slurred between insistent kisses. “when you use me to feel good. when you take my showerhead off the wall and use it… you make me so crazy.”
you throw your head back and moan. you can’t look at him on his knees like this — your glasses are still foggy, still steamed up, but even the muddled shape of him is too much. you curl your fingers into his hair and pull him up, up, up, into another bruising kiss that he reciprocates immediately.
“it feels so good,” you keen. “it feels so good like that, you make me feel good.” he tugs your bottom lip between his teeth and kisses down your chin. “ahh, baby. bin-baby, you’re making me crazy too. if you won’t fuck me, we- we gotta get out. i can’t- i can’t-”
he shushes you again, taps his thumb against your bottom lip with a small smile. “soon,” he promises.
changbin dries you off with a towel from the rack, ruffling your hair with it until you squawk at him. he ties his own towel around his waist and disappears from the room completely when you take off your glasses to wipe the fog away with a dry hand towel. he’s right back in sight when you put them back on. changbin smiles fondly but takes a step back when he notices your gaze lingering on the mirror. you fluff your hair, scrunch it out, wipe your hand across the glass to get rid of the clinging steam.
“okay, have fun!” changbin says quickly. “if you get dirty, you’ll just have to come see me again soon, sudsy. i’ll be waiting!”
he leaves you with a parting wink before rushing out the door of the bathroom. the change of pace is a little odd, you’re not sure why he’s rushing when just a few minutes ago he wanted to take things slowly, but you guess it’s just a silly quirk of his.
you’re so focused on your own reflection that the second face in the mirror makes you shout. the second face almost looks like it’s on the other side of the mirror looking back at you, and you drop your hairbrush with a clatter as someone pops out of your bathroom mirror and sits before you on the sink.
a baby blue shirt tucked into a short, crystalline skirt. it’s pleated and reflective, showing off thick thighs and toned legs that end in a platform heel. you look up to see long, dark, beautiful curly hair held away from her face with a clip. glossy lips, a shimmer of glitter on small eyelids.
“look who finally came to see me!” she exclaims, ruffling two blue and silver pom-poms together in her hands before tossing them excitedly to either corner of the bathroom. she crosses one leg over the other. “you’re even cuter in person, did you know that?”
you gape at her. even though her bodice is smaller in stature, she still has broad shoulders, her arms still bulge through the tight sleeves of her shirt. there’s a smiley shaped scar on her chin. this is the prettiest girl you’ve ever seen, and she’s undoubtedly, indisputably, remarkably changbin.
your eyes are drawn lower, so shocked by this new version of your boyfriend — girlfriend?— filling your space that you can’t stop your ogling, drawn straight to a chest that might just put yours to shame. her breasts are so perky that you wonder if she’s wearing a push up bra underneath her shirt or if that’s just their natural shape. they sit so pretty, they’re so full, oh my god you can’t stop staring—
you snap your gaze away from her ample chest and try to focus on literally anything else.
“um, who-? who are you?”
“i’m just your number one cheerleader, of course. it’s me, cutie. your mirror!”
she scoots off of the sink and flits around the bathroom, heels clomping on the floor every step she takes. you’re still trying to keep your eyes a respectable distance from her boobs, gaze settling on the small basket of dried rose petal and lavender potpourri on your counter when someone else appears out of thin air, an ever faithful reminder of the abilities of your glasses.
“oh? we must be getting ready for something. can i help?!”
a second set of heels scurry forward. the hands that touch your arms are covered by lacy lavender gloves, and this other version of changbin meets your eyes in the mirror over your shoulder. poppy pink hair with cascading rose petals sewn into the strands, a delicate, powder pink babydoll dress draped over bronze skin. lavender chiffon wings sprout from the back of the dress like something you’d see a showgirl wearing. it hits you then — overdrawn lips and starkly underlined eyes, pink and purple painted lids — along with the gorgeous cheerleader nosing through your skin care, there’s a drag queen in your bathroom.
“changmi, my love! of course you can help, i could use an extra set of hands. you wouldn’t mind, cutie, would you?”
you shake your head. you don’t really know what’s going on, but you don’t think you do mind all that much.
“what’s the occasion? a night on the town, family get together, a party?”
changbin presses herself to your side and rests her chin over your other shoulder. changmi sets her chin down too, and it looks like you have three heads.
“date night,” changbin whispers conspiratorially. “that stud of yours will be home in a little while, won’t he? we need to get you ready! so. what exactly are you feeling, cutie? what can we do to make you feel the best?”
you think about it, held safely between two versions of one love of your life. you’ve been pulled in different directions all day, heart and body both fighting to satiate their cravings, clawing at each other for scraps. the attention has left you aching, buzzing under the skin with just how much you want changbin in any way you can get him, any version, but the one you covet the most is the one who’s been yours. before the glasses, before you knew of the secret lives of the things within your house. you ache for the touch of the man who wipes your tears and dances with you in the kitchen, the one who asked to be yours all those years ago.
you want to get fucked, but more than that, you want to show changbin how much you missed him and feel pretty while you do it.
“there is something,” you start. a matching set waiting patiently in your underwear drawer, cast to the side due to busy nights and shared exhaustion. it’s something changbin surprised you with a while back, sleek black box left on your bed with a sweet, chicken scratch love note, but it’s been so long since then that you think he might have forgotten by now. “but i’ve never worn it? i don’t know how it’ll look on me.”
“well, let’s find out, shall we?”
changbin plugs up your hair dryer as changmi flutters to your bedroom to rummage through your underwear drawer. the dryer roars to life, and you’re left shouting over the noise.
“it should be kinda shoved to the back? the black ones, with the pink flowers? can you- can you find them?” your hair whips into your face and you’re left trying to keep hold of the towel tied around your chest while changbin fusses over your hair. you can’t hear changmi’s heels, but you see her leaning in the doorway out of the corner of your eye, holding up the pretty set of lingerie you were talking about. when the hair dryer clicks off and the deafening roar peters to a stop, changbin whistles.
“it’s these right?” changmi asks. she holds up the panties so the thong in the back is facing you. she shows the bra next and holds the cups to her own chest. changmi looks at you with raised brows and a teasing grin on her overdrawn lips. “oh, pretty peony. if you ever wore these for me, i wouldn’t let you out of bed.”
“ohh please, oh please! you’d put your lovely mirror in front of the bed for some extra fun, wouldn’t you?” changbin sighs wistfully. “he’s so lucky. you’re going to look unreal. come on, let’s get you dressed!”
you can do it yourself, but changbin and changmi won’t let you lift a muscle unless they’re there to assist you. your towel drops to the floor as changbin squats low to help you step into your panties, and she eases them up your legs with a slow finesse, sliding the satin up until the elastic snaps in place at your hips. changmi works you into the bra next, waiting patiently for you to slide your arms through the straps to slip them up your shoulders. changbin joins in then, fretting with the cups of the bra so your boobs can sit comfortably in them while changmi focuses on hooking the clasps at the back.
it isn’t until changbin steps away from your front that you see yourself in the reflection of the mirror. the longline bra pushes your breasts up and accentuates your cleavage. the lacy demi cups ride so low that the faintest slip of your areolas tease from the top, surrounded by delicate pink flowers and a silky bow in the middle. the matching panties send a flush to your cheeks courtesy of the black mesh covering your public mound, but the black satin on the rest feels nice, feels expensive even, cool against your dewy skin. pink flowers dot the mesh, and a pink ribbon sits primly in the middle of the elastic band.
“turn around, beautiful,” changbin encourages, and changmi hums.
you do turn your body to the side, looking over your shoulder at the thin straps of the bra that shows off the length of your back and the curvature of your shoulders. the panties unsurprisingly leave nothing to the imagination, thong dipping sinfully between your cheeks to leave your ass on bold display.
the set is beautiful. changbin is so thoughtful, both pieces of the set fit perfectly, and you know he picked it out with you in mind. but it’s revealing, it’s new on your body, so you can’t help but feel a little uncertain even though you’re wrapped in such beautiful garments.
“is it- i mean, do i look okay?” you’re turning the other way now, plucking at fabric and elastic and trying not to nitpick yourself into taking it off.
“does it not feel good?” changmi asks. she tilts her head, and a coiled lock of pink hair falls to the side. “it’s supposed to make you feel good, rosy. does it not make you feel that way? we can try something else if it doesn’t.”
“i think it does. i like the way it feels. it’s really soft, and it fits well, but it’s, you know. a lot? is it too much on me?”
“i don’t think that man of yours would have bought it if he thought it was too much,” changbin smiles, fixing your derailing train of thought by adjusting the track. “but this is about you, cutie! what makes you feel good. what do you like best about it?”
“well.” you pause to think, another one-eighty in the mirror. “my boobs look really good.”
“they do! i really like that little peek of skin in the middle, see? right above the ribbon? look how pretty that is.” changmi leans over your shoulder again and brings a manicured, lace-covered finger to point at the sliver of skin she’s talking about.
“you fit so well in it too. it looks like this was made custom for you, gorgeous, no spillage on the sides, nothing digging in anywhere to make you uncomfy.”
“the panties are nice too, right?” you ask. “like- my butt does look pretty nice, doesn’t it?” you turn then, all three of you looking at the globes of your ass, black fabric nestled down the crack.
“baby, there’s a string back there. that’s all you. the panties have nothing to do with it!”
“i was thinking the same thing, but look! look right there. where the elastic digs into your waist just a little bit? do you see how soft you are here?” changmi growls playfully in your ear, nipping at the lobe. “i wanna bite it.”
changbin leans in just as close on the other side of you, nuzzling her tiny, scrunched nose at your other ear. “i bet we aren’t the only ones who wanna bite it~”
the front door opening downstairs makes all of you freeze in your tracks.
“yeobo? i’m home!”
that springs you into action, wide eyed and frantic, clomping heels and padding feet rush into the bedroom for the finishing touches. all you do is throw on a worn t-shirt of yours to cover up the lingerie you’re really beginning to love. changmi slams your underwear drawer closed, your mirror fusses with your hair and adjusts your glasses on your face.
changbin calls for you again.
“just a second!”
changmi rounds the corner of your bed and changbin grabs her hand so they can scuttle away to somewhere else in the house.
“good luck, beautiful! tell me all about it tomorrow. mmm, though i guess i’ll be able to put the pieces together when you stand in front of me to brush your teeth and you’ve got hickeys everywhere~”
“and!” changmi rushes. she pulls hard enough on changbin’s hand to stop her in her tracks. changmi leans close to you — she smells like flowers, roses and lavender to be precise. “i’m not just in the bathroom, you know? if you want to see me again under different circumstances, just check that special drawer of your nightstand, buttercup.”
she lets changbin pull her away then, and you hear the clacking of their heels recede until it disappears altogether.
you don’t bother turning the lamp off before stepping out of your bedroom and padding to the staircase. you see him then, standing at the bottom of the stairs like he’s been waiting in place there ever since he heard your voice. changbin is so handsome, god, the best thing that’s ever happened to you, standing clueless at the base of the stairs with a bag of takeout in his hand and his keys in the other.
his eyes widen when he hears you bolt down the stairs, but he still manages to catch you with a steady arm as you throw yourself at him, plowing into that warm chest and latching your arms around his shoulders.
“baby,” you keen. he rocks you in place like he doesn’t mind you throwing yourself at him the way you did, tightening his arm around your back and nestling his chin over your shoulder. “baby, i missed you! i missed you so much.”
changbin laughs kindly. his warm breath tickles your neck and flutters your hair. “i missed you too, gorgeous. what’ve you been up to today?”
you pull away from him then, unwrapping your arms from his shoulders and placing your palms on them instead.
“changbin,” you say seriously. he’s not going to believe the day you had.
his eyebrows scrunch. that pretty smile ticks at the corner like he’s confused. “you’re still wearing those glasses? have you worn them all day?” he laughs.
it’s then that you notice the figure standing to your left, ducking his head politely as if to give you a semblance of privacy. your doorman looks up then, and there’s a knowing smile on his face. a look to your right shows a small crowd in the living room. lop ears and wide eyes peek out from behind the couch, your housekeeper sits with his headband in his lap, reaching a hand down to scritch at fuzzy ears. your phone fiddles with the remote, and your enthusiastic treadmill points at the television from beside him. your teddy bear is curled into the corner of the couch, head pillowed by the warm, dewy chest of your shower. if you listen hard enough, you can hear the clicking of heels in the kitchen and the fizzle of something cooking on the stove.
when you look at your doorman again, he nods his head.
“we’ll see you again soon, dormouse.”
yellow fades from your vision when you take the glasses off. you have to blink a few times to adjust your vision to the muted light of your entryway, and you realize just how quiet the house is now. you and changbin are the only two there — a look around shows an empty doorway, an empty living room. silence from the kitchen.
but the silence isn’t unbearable, not like it was this morning. your house teems with life; how could you ever be lonely in the space you share with changbin? the floor creaks when he adjusts his stance, the rafters crackle and pop their greeting.
“changbin,” you repeat again, and you’re tugging him up the stairs and to the bedroom before he can even take his crocs off.
“but- wait, yeobo, the food-?”
“there’s no time!”
changbin places his keys and the bag of takeout on the entryway table and lets you lead him up the stairs with an eager grip. he’s just as malleable when you push him back onto the bed and crawl on top of him, kissing up the warm skin of his neck while the sound of him kicking off his shoes interrupts that of quiet sighs and slick smacks. you kiss his lips, slow and deep.
“the glasses are magic,” you mumble into his plump little mouth. you breathe the words into it. “they bring stuff in your house to life-” kiss, “-and they show up as what you desire most-” kiss, “-so i spent all day going around our house meeting different versions of you-” kiss, kiss, kiss, “-because there’s nothing i want more than you.”
changbin’s breath is ragged. he bares his neck so you have more room to kiss and lifts up to help you rid him of that god awful shirt. your tongue circles his adam’s apple and he shivers.
“ahhh, mm… muh-, shit- magic?”
“that’s all you heard?!” you pinch him on the side, but all that does is make him arch into your hands.
“i can’t focus on anything with you kissing me like that!” changbin whines.
you let him off the hook because you know he can’t. pleased to know you’ve already got him where you want him, dazed and trusting and open underneath your body, you lean down to suck kisses down his chest. a puffy nipple catches your attention, so you flit your tongue against it until he’s left twitching. he curls into you when you nip it with your teeth, knees bending inwards and knocking against your hips. changbin brings shaky fingers to your hair and pushes it back from your forehead so that he can kiss it, warm, soft lips searing on the skin.
changbin’s hands go with you as you work your way lower. kisses between his pecs, down to his belly, his sides. you nose at the band of his pants, looking up at him demurely.
“i’m gonna put you in my mouth, baby.” changbin’s breath stutters in his throat, but he nods nonetheless. “but that’s not where i want you to cum, okay? just let me taste you for a little bit.”
his eyes flutter when you nuzzle your cheek against the growing bulge in his joggers; they roll when you press your lips to it. changbin helps you take them off, his pants and his boxers, lifting his hips and moving his legs until you’re finally able to pull them from his ankles and toss the offending pair on the floor.
he’s a sight like this. changbin is all bronze skin and supple curves, a hard, toned body turning itself soft and pliable to your whims.
he spreads his legs just wide enough for you to be comfortable between them, skin still pressing together in too many places to count. all he wants is to feel you, and your all too happy to be felt, curling between those strong legs and leaning against a thigh to finally wrap greedy fingers around his hardening length. he’s pinking up at the tip, leaking too, a kiss to the head swipes his pre across your lips like a gloss. he feels pleasure so beautifully, those peachy doll lips dropping open to heave a shaky breath, his eyebrows furrowing in the middle. how lucky you are to see him this way.
changbin’s fingers cup the back of your neck when you finally slip that ruddy tip into your mouth. he drips onto your tongue, and you savor, savor, savor it, holding him in place between your lips just because you can. you build up a slow pace to reacquaint the wet heat of your mouth to that tasty intrusion, bobbing your head up and down on him while he struggles to keep his composure.
a fondle to his balls has his legs twitching. you feel the muscles in his thigh tense where it’s pressed to your back, eyes flitting up to see changbin with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth. you lift yourself off of his cock then to tongue your way down to his heavy sac, soft and furled and full under your fingers as you circle them under the skin. changbin throws his head back then, a choked grunt punching from his chest.
“fuck,” he heaves. he makes a valiant effort to lift his head back up to watch you suck on his balls, but it must be too much, the sight or the sensation, you’re not sure. either way, his head flops back down on the pillow with a loud moan. “yeobo, god.”
you hum then and suck his cock back into your mouth, massaging his balls as he finally meets the entrance to your throat. the faster your head bobs, the harder changbin fights to keep his composure. he’s tense — muscles jumping under your touch like he’s fighting not to buck himself between your lips at his own pace. he’s never selfish when it comes to his own pleasure, no, he takes what you give him and loves every second of it, but you make him feel so good that his body just can’t help but react.
it isn’t until changbin is quivering that you ease him from your mouth with a slick sounding pop. his hands take hold of your hips as you begin your ascend up his body, straddling your legs on either side of his hips. reverential eyes take you in, and they widen when you bare yourself to him. you slip the t-shirt over your head and toss it behind you somewhere, leaving you in the set changbin bought just for you.
“oh,” he whispers. those eyes haven’t left you — they search now, roaming freely, taking in every ounce of you they can. changbin’s rough hands slide gently over your belly, they squeeze your hips. “oh, yeobo. oh, i-” he laughs then, something tight and overwhelmed. “you’re so fucking beautiful.”
he’s not looking at your body when he says it. his eyes aren’t locked on the swell of your breasts or the mesh covering the mound of your cunt. he’s looking into your eyes as he speaks.
“yes,” you confirm. his gaze grows heavy. changbin’s eyes only move from yours when you start to lower the shoulder straps of your bra. one at a time, they slink down your arms and stay limp in place at your elbows. you don’t move to take the bra off, you’ll fuck him with it on. “i feel beautiful.”
your body feels good, you feel soft and powerful where you are. black and pink fabric kisses the contours and dips of your skin in a way that makes you feel confident, even if it took help to get there. changbin helps now too — he lives his life like it’s his purpose to make you feel beautiful, covetous eyes, adoring hands, and honest words.
you pull your panties to the side and he gasps. your jaw drops too, a low sound leaving your lips at the press of his hot tip to your tender clit.
you’re suddenly ravenous for it, unable to stop the bump of your hips that rubs you against the length of him. your swollen lips hug him like that, covering him in that sticky-sweet slick he’s coaxed out of you. you’d fuck him like this if you didn’t feel a bone-deep need to have him inside. you’ve been wound up on and off all day, teased, kept on the precipice, and who better to guide you down than the one who started it all?
one knee on the bed, you lift up onto the ball of your foot and reach for his cock. changbin angles his hips to help, squeezing your hips and holding steady for you to take him however you please.
you sink down on him slowly, not stopping until you’re seated on him fully. changbin pets your belly; you cup his hand and caress his knuckles. he’s the perfect fit. your hips move on their own accord, familiarizing yourself to the sweet stretch you love so much.
if lifting back up on your knees feels like rapture, dropping back down feels like creation, an uninhibited moan leaving your lips when you fill yourself with him again and again.
“this is mine.” you place your palms on his chest and ride, breasts finally popping out of your bra at your rough pace. “your cock is mine, changbinnie, it’s mine. mine to use, mine to play with, mine to- fff- ah!”
you’re losing control, so changbin gives you his.
“yes, baby,” he nods. his gaze is heavy, lashes fluttering like it’s taking all of his effort to keep them open. changbin licks his lips and groans, bringing his hands up to wrap around your wrists.
“it’s mine,” you repeat. “you’re mine.”
he’s already confirming before you’re done talking. “all of me is yours. every part of me, gorgeous.”
he hits deep like this, even deeper when his hips start to move on their own and aid your pleasure, bucking just as you drop down onto him so he strokes deeper. his hips move so effortlessly, the glide of him slick and dirty. your juices drip down the base of his cock and to his heavy balls that smack against you wetly as he thrusts upwards. every time you drop down on him, it shocks a cry from his lips. every time he fucks up into you, you repeat his name like a prayer. the slap of skin echoes noisily, the rhythm breaking in your desperation to have him.
the only thing about desperation is that your body can’t always keep up with it. your limbs grow tired before you want them to, your heart pounds just a little too fast, and your breathing turns a little too laborious. you whine, hands scrambling across his slick, heated skin for more leverage to no avail. your head hurts, you feel heavy, your muscles burn, and changbin pulls you down before you can start to panic.
“hey, hey,” he coos. your breasts press flush to his warm chest, and his hands rub up and down your back. he hasn’t stopped fucking you, thank god, the beat of his cock has turned slow, softer than before. “i’m right here. i’m right here with you, beautiful.”
it’s easier like this. it was good before, and it’s good now, in a different kind of way. you can kiss him like this, feel his thundering pulse under your fingertips when they wrap around his throat just to touch him more. changbin’s mouth can’t help but falter — he’s all too focused on the rhythm of his hips to choreograph the movement of his tongue or the pucker of his lips, so you use his mouth how you like, sucking on his tongue and nipping at his bottom lip when he fucks into that spot you like the most. you clench on him then, hugging him tight with tender walls to keep him where you need him. changbin twitches inside of you.
you rest your forehead on his. changbin’s breathing is uneven against your mouth, sweet, airy moans leaving his lips and slipping between yours. you’re not fairing any better. he feels too good, his cock inside where it belongs and his arms around you, being intimate like this in the bed you share, in the house you live in together.
“‘m gonna cum,” you mumble. it builds so fast that you gasp, body jolting on top of his at the warm, tingling sensation of a rapidly building orgasm. “baby. baby, baby- you’re gonna make me cum.”
“please. please cum for me, please. ah, my heart, show me how perfect you are when you cum on me… when you cum on this cock that belongs to you.”
he kisses the wail from your lips as you do, squirming fitfully on top of him and only held in place by the embrace of his arms. changbin is never far off after that. the clenching of your cunt, the sweet pulse of your orgasm always pulls his right out of him. he cums inside with a hiss, slamming his hips up one final time and using his grip on your back to push you down onto him so that you can take his cum deep.
you lay in his arms until your legs are going numb, finally using that as your excuse to pull off of him and throw a leg over his thigh, curling into his side. you’re going to drip cum all over his side, but you know he’ll only fuss a little bit, and he’ll do it with a smile on his face.
it isn’t until you’ve both caught your breath that changbin gets up to wet a cloth to clean you with.
you turn onto your side and watch him turn the water on in the bathroom, standing naked and sated under the bright light.
“ah, wait, i meant to tell you when i got home,” he says. changbin wrings out the cloth over the sink and comes back into your bedroom to wipe you down. he gets your hot spots and focuses his attention between your legs. “hyunjinnie texted earlier today and asked how you were liking the glasses?”
“hyunjin bought them for me?!”
“mm, he said something about waiting to see what you thought before he bought his own pair.”
“so i’m his guinea pig.”
changbin laughs. “i guess so, yeobong.”
a few minutes of talking go by, and changbin finally makes himself get up again to throw the cloth in the hamper.
your yellow glasses are sitting askew on the far side of the bed. he picks them up and surveys them before putting them on his own face.
changbin rounds the bed again and walks to the door of the bathroom. “so you’re telling me,” he starts. “you spent the entire day romancing all of these random objects in our house because of these glasses?”
“yeah! they were able to bring stuff to life, i dunno how.”
“and they were all me?! will- will i be able to see them too?”
that’s a question you don’t know the answer to, but you have a good idea of who could find the answer in the blink of an eye.
“i’m not really sure? i think it might be different for every person. like, you see what you desire most? but i mean, maybe. all you have to do is, like, focus your eyes on something you want to bring to life, and somebody will appear.”
he huffs then, puts his hands on his hips and looks around the bathroom.
you turn back over to lay flat on your back, nuzzling your head on the pillow to get comfortable. you don’t stay relaxed for long.
“oh. wuh- wah!” changbin shouts.
“bin? what’s wrong?” you sit up in bed but can’t see anything out of the ordinary, other than changbin standing naked and wide eyed in the bathroom with your glasses on his face.
“yeobo, you’re yellow,” he says very seriously. his eyes are still wide, but he’s not looking at you. “y-you’ll squeak if i squeeze you?” your eyebrows raise. of course he’s not seeing himself in these glasses at all, of course he’s seeing— “squeeze you where? a-anywhere?!”
changbin’s still staring at something you can’t see. if you lean far enough to the left, you can follow his gaze. you snort a goofy laugh when your eyes spot the only yellow item in your bathroom, something you wouldn’t have thought about twice.
the bed is too big without him. you want to curl around him again and fall asleep with your hand resting over his heart.
“changbinnie,” you call sweetly. “why don’t you take those glasses off and come to bed, baby? you can talk to our rubber duck tomorrow.”
a night full of confessions leads to your friend telling you his biggest secret—well, his second biggest secret.
pairing: virgin!lee minho x fem!reader
genre: smut, mutual pining, friends to lovers, soulmates, hurt/comfort, angst w/ happy ending
warnings (18+ mdni) : explicit sexual content, virgin!minho, loss of said virginity lol, soft dom!minho, oral (f receiving), disgustingly romantic sex, body worship, possessive behavior, just minho being completely whipped, minho is kind of a dork, miscommunication, heavy themes of past relationship (not minho x reader), open ending if you squint (but not really)
word count: 7.1k
playlist: a little death by the neighbourhood・wanna be yours by artic monkeys・ apocalypse by cigarettes after sex・champagne coast by blood orange・willow by taylor swift
♡ i poured my heart and soul into this fic 😭 idk if she'll be very popular but she's my baby! hope you like this one ♡
He finds you at the bus stop on the fifth.
You’re waiting in front of the bench, shivering in the winter air as you try to light one of the cheap Montego cigarettes you found in the convenience store, with that shitty lighter someone left in your bag ages ago. You don’t even smoke. And what a sight you make, cursing under your breath and slumped in a long chiffon skirt that does nothing to protect you against the bitter cold.
That familiar maroon Honda Civic rolls to a stop in front of you, the bright yellow headlights shining onto the blocks of snow framing the sidewalk, engines sputtering into silence. You hear the car door open and then close, the weak crunch of ice under heavy boots. You know it’s him. But you ignore him, keeping your head down as you keep attempting to get the lighter to work.
“It’s late.”
You give up too quickly, pocketing the useless lighter before tossing the unused cigarette into the garbage can next to you. You pull your cardigan tighter around your body, staring out at the glum row of apartments across the street. “What a waste of money.”
“Do you even know where you are right now?”
“The bus was supposed to be here twenty minutes ago,” you sigh unsteadily, screwing your eyes shut tight, knowing that a few tears will probably escape soon. Your phone’s dead, so you can’t even check the transit app, and you’re tired. So, so tired.
You feel something heavy and warm being placed around your shoulders, the scent of spearmint and cherry liqueur replacing the stench of tobacco. You finally open your eyes and let them find him, standing in front of you plainly.
Minho is dressed simple, as always, clad in a thin grey Henley and dark jeans. It hasn’t even been three weeks since you’ve last seen him, and yet, his hair is already much longer, the soft cut curving over his forehead and into his eyes.
The icy wind picks up, blowing harder and making you hunch over in the air like a useless reed, but Minho doesn’t even flinch, arms crossed over his chest as he quietly watches you.
“Minho. Take your jacket back.”
“I’m not cold.”
“Stop lying. It’s below freezing.”
“So let’s go.”
You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. “Where, Minho? Where would I go with you? And don’t you have someplace to be right now?”
“Don’t you?” he shoots back pointedly, effectively shutting you up.
It’s the twenty-first of December, the release date of Han Jisung’s sophomore album. You both had still been together when he sat you down in his studio, buzzing with excitement as you let him play the finished record for you. You were the first one ever to hear it, beside Jisung and his production team.
It meant something to him, you know that. Jisung called you a few days ago, drunk and sobbing over his words. The first time you heard from him in five months, and it wasn’t even when he was sober. He had pleaded with you to come to his release party, that every song he had ever written was about you. And—he missed you. You promptly hung up the phone.
You inhale deeply, willing yourself not to cry, but the tears leak out anyway, pathetically trailing down your cheeks. The dampness clings to your skin, mixing with the makeup you had caked on earlier to create a sticky mess. God, you feel terrible. You don’t remember the last time you ate anything.
“Leave me alone, Minho.” You try to be sharp, but your voice trembles, and you’re so obviously wounded that it’s almost embarrassing. “Just go to the party and have fun.”
He doesn’t say anything in response, just moving forward and wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into a hug. You can’t find it in yourself to complain, pathetically melting into his touch like you were molded to enjoy it. You had wanted so badly to be held, and here he is, obstinately staying put no matter how much you try to push him away.
“You know, I was lying,” Minho whispers into your ear, his breath tickling you. “I am cold.”
“So take your jacket back.”
Minho lets go of you, and you miss him already, but you keep your face stoic as he playfully backs away from you. “Come and give it to me, then.”
You scowl, recognizing the devilish smile dancing on his lips. “Stop it. You’re seriously being annoying, Minho.”
“But you know how I love it,” he replies easily. His laughter cuts into the air like wind chimes—lovely, carefree, and lighter than you could ever be again.
He quickly gets back into his car, knowing you’re going to follow. You rush after him, slapping your palm against the glass of the window just as he locks the door. “Lee Minho! Take your fucking jacket back!”
Minho cracks the window open just enough for him to speak through it. “It’s too cold for me to open the door again. Come through the other side and give it back to me.”
With a groan, you fold to his tricks, stomping over to the passenger door and getting into the car. You try shrugging off the jacket, but Minho doesn’t let you, buckling the belt over your arms before you can.
“I hate you,” you snap, as Minho puts the key into the ignition and gets back onto the road. You lean forward, turning the heat to max even though you’re already sweating under Minho’s puffer. His car always takes forever to warm up, and he’d been standing in the frigid outside for a good seven minutes.
“You don’t,” Minho responds, unfazed. He’s right and he knows it, so you turn away from him petulantly, refusing to look in his direction. “Want to listen to music?”
“Fine.” You switch on the radio, but the moment you hear one of Jisung’s songs crooning through the speakers, you turn it right back off. “The universe really hates me, doesn’t it?”
“Hmm, let’s see.” Minho taps his fingers against the wheel in mock thought. “You’re smart. You’re beautiful. You have a good heart. Yeah, the universe definitely hates you.”
You feel your cheeks heat up at what he says and silently thank the night for concealing how red your face must be. He doesn’t very much often compliment people, always choosing his words very carefully, so you know he must mean it. “Shut up.”
You can discern Minho’s smile in the dark, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of the road, simply passing you his phone. “You can use my Spotify, choose whatever you like.”
You take your time scrolling through his playlists, until you settle on a good song. Soft jazz floods through the speakers and envelopes you like an embrace, but nowhere near as warm as Minho’s.
Minho slows down as the car approaches a red light, until it reaches a complete halt. You brazenly stare at his side profile, sharp and handsome, and take in the way the traffic lights paint him almost like he’s some kind of an ethereal creature.
“How did you find me, anyway?”
“I have my ways.”
“Can you not be so cryptic all the time? It’s not funny.”
Minho doesn’t flinch at your audible irritation. “You forgot to stop sharing your location with me.”
The light changes to green, and the car starts moving again.
You scoff. “And why did you show up?”
Silence. You can see Minho’s shoulders visibly tense, feel how the air instantly becomes heavy with a pressure that you can’t quite place. You should have considered his actual answer to the question more carefully before asking it, especially because you have an idea of what it might be.
“Don’t.” Minho’s voice takes on a real edge, the first time it’s ever been directed towards you. “Don’t ask me that.”
You purse your lips, feeling the pit in your stomach grow deeper. It feels strange, talking about it out loud. Of course you had noticed, the way his eyes linger on you for far too long to be just a casual glance. The way when you enter a crowded room, he always finds you, quietly checking up on you and making sure you’re okay. Little does he know that with him, you seldom feel not okay.
“You have… you have a crush on me.”
“A crush?” Minho lets out a dry laugh. “Is that what you think it is?”
“Well, yes?”
You sit there stupidly, waiting as he wordlessly pulls into the driveway, parking the car before he finally turns to face you, his eyes blazing with an intensity that you’ve never seen in all of the years you’ve known him.
It frightens you a little, to be trapped in this state of limbo with Minho. Before, he had always been this steady, constant presence, kind and funny and so brimming with warmth. The appropriate distance was there, of course, but he was always there in your periphery, smiling and happy to help. You had been with Jisung then, before. And after… you had been emptied, left with nothing else to give.
Every single time, Minho had shown up for you, patiently wiping your tears and listening to you cry for as long as you needed. Minho, your friend, steady and constant. Maybe you hadn’t realized that the world kept turning in the after, that Minho could have changed too; you just never noticed.
“God, you know nothing,” he says softly, slowly reaching his hand out to wipe off the smudge of mascara under your eyes. His fingers are like silky petals on your skin, smooth and shy as they traverse the planes of your face.
“Know what, Min?” You whisper, the sting of bated anticipation in your chest. You’re terrified of what he might say next, but at the same time, you yearn for the truth, for the months of wondering to be sated.
Minho just stares at you for a few more seconds, and you have to keep yourself from squirming under his gaze, wondering if his eyes are deepened with the weight of all the secrets he must be hiding. But he just ends up shaking his head, breaking the moment like it never existed.
“This is pointless.” Minho looks away and exhales sharply, grabbing his keys and unbuckling his seatbelt. “Come on, let’s go inside. I’ll make you hot cocoa.”
“But—”
Minho cuts you off by opening the car door, unabashedly avoiding how you attempt to burn a hole with your eyes through his retreating back. “I’m not doing this. Let’s go warm up.”
“Doing what—”
“Cocoa.”
The door slams behind Minho as he makes his way up the gravel pathway leading to the front door of the house, ignoring your indignant protests—you definitely didn’t miss what a stubborn jerk he can be. Knowing you’ve lost yet another battle against the enigmatic and exceptionally evasive Lee Minho, all you can do is sigh and follow him inside.
You’ve always loved Minho’s place. Tucked away in an unassuming neighborhood, far from the central hustle and bustle of the city; it’s something out of a storybook, a little yellow house surrounded by rose bushes and a white picket fence.
The interior is even prettier, with its tastefully mismatched couches and brightly-colored walls that Minho had painted himself. Every corner is occupied by a potted plant, every surface crammed with books to satisfy Minho’s insatiable need to always be reading something. An antique floor lamp casts a hazy yellow glow throughout the living room, and your personal favorite—the three kittens that quickly abandon Minho to curl around your ankles, purring at you in greeting.
The cozy, lived-in feeling of Minho’s home is a striking contrast with the hard lines and lifeless modernity of Jisung’s high-rise apartment downtown; you had always felt guilty for preferring Minho’s style. It felt comforting in a way that Jisung’s never was.
You don’t come here often, but when you do, it feels like summer—perpetually so, even in the bleak wintertime. Or maybe that’s just what it feels like whenever Minho’s around.
“Ten minutes,” Minho says over his shoulder as he heads into the kitchen.
You unstrap your shoes and settle down into your favorite spot, the fluffy loveseat in front of the bay window strung up with fairy lights. You listen to Minho putter around the kitchen, pulling out a pot and chopping up chocolate like he always insists on doing, instead of just using a hot cocoa mix.
Dori, the youngest of Minho’s cats, flops into your lap and cuddles into you, purring for your attention. Giggling, you indulge him, as you let the peacefulness sink in, feeling calmer than you have in a long time.
Nothing about the house has changed, other than the small cluster of purple crocus flowers that peek through the snow outside the window. You appreciate his attention to detail, like how he’s chosen winter blooms to keep his garden thriving even in the harsh weather. Everything about him is so sweet and lovely that it almost hurts, pricking at your heart like a needle.
You glance over at the fireplace mantle, noting that he’s still kept up that picture of you both from May. You’re standing in the grass and holding onto your diploma like a ghost, amongst the throngs of your giddy fellow graduates. And there’s Minho, sticking bunny ears behind your head with his fingers, trying to make you laugh because he had sensed how sad you were that day, no matter how much you smiled and insisted that you were fine.
Jisung had texted you at the last minute, telling you that he couldn’t make it anymore because he had to meet with his manager. You knew it wasn’t really his fault, and he had apologized to you over and over again, but it didn’t change how unimportant you felt, especially since you had always supported Jisung despite your own commitments. He broke up with you soon after that anyway.
“They missed you,” Minho calls out from where he’s washing his hands at the sink, which faces out into the living room.
“Hm?” You look up, meeting his eyes across the room.
“The cats.” The expression on his face is earnest, soft and open, as he watches you play with Dori. “They really missed you.”
You feel the corners of your lips tilt up slightly. “Did you miss me too?”
You expect him to snort and say no, tease you like he usually does whenever you act bratty, or maybe even just play it off, given how the question could lead into a rather sensitive discussion. But instead, Minho blushes, his face turning a pretty shade of pink as he looks away from you to stare down into the sink like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.
“I did.”
You rack your head for something to say, but you’re speechless. Minho is by no means a dishonest man, but overtime, you have understood that he rarely ever likes to be so candid with his emotions, afraid of being vulnerable; you know it’s also why he deflected so quickly in the car.
So, as always, Minho just clears his throat with a note of finality, entering the living room with two steaming mugs before you can respond to him. He hands you one while avoiding your eyes, just pausing to pat Dori’s head, before he sits down on the armchair opposite to the loveseat.
You peer down into your mug, at the way Minho has added a generous swirl of whipped cream, and of course, mini marshmallows arranged into a small smiley face on top. So sweet, so lovely.
As carefully as you can to avoid disturbing Minho’s little creation, you take a sip of the drink, the rich, slightly bitter cocoa instantly warming you from head to toe. You can’t help but smile, squinting over at Minho, who hides his own satisfied grin behind his mug.
“How do you always know exactly what I need? You’re amazing, you know that?”
He shrugs, trying to act nonchalant, but you spy the lingering tinge of color on the tips of his ears. “Call it my spidey sense, I guess.”
“You’re such a dork,” you say, draining the last of the hot cocoa. “Lee Minho, you’re probably my life’s greatest paradox.”
He quirks an eyebrow at you, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “How so?”
“Sometimes, I feel like you’re an open book. The things you cherish are so clear to me. Bad jokes. Gardening. Libraries. And of course, the kids.” You lift Dori’s paw into the air in emphasis, waving it at Minho, who looks at you like you’ve just invented cats entirely. “But other times, I feel like I don’t know you at all. You keep so much to yourself, and I know you’re entitled to your thoughts, but sometimes, it hurts, thinking that you can’t trust me with some of them. It’s confusing.”
Minho ponders over your words, deliberating before he speaks any further, and you wait patiently, nestling your fingers into the kitten’s fur, trying your best to soothe your nerves. This could very well become the third time tonight that he succeeds at averting the subtle confrontation you have been building up in your head for so long. But as predictable as you think he is, he continues to surprise you, opting to answer your musings rather than ricochet into a different subject.
“I know that I’m confusing, that it’s frustrating,” Minho says in a small voice. “But I can’t help it.”
You give him a resigned nod, looking out the window. It has started to snow again, the delicate crystals spiraling down from the inky sky. “It’s fine. You’re not frustrating, Minho.”
“No, it’s not fine. And I know I am. But I don’t want to be. Not to you.” Minho takes a deep breath, setting his mug down on the little coffee table. “Ask me anything, and I’ll try my best to answer truthfully.”
Minho looks you in the eye, pinning you into place. How potent it is, the feeling of his gaze on you, and you drink it in, like it’s the alcohol you were tipping into your mouth three weeks ago, the night you ghosted Minho. You’d never been that intoxicated before, brave enough to pull him deep into the flashing lights of the club, dizzy enough that you forgot to miss someone else, completely enthralled by Minho’s hands on your waist.
The spell never broke, even after you stumbled in your heels and pushed Minho away, rushing out of the club in a panic after remembering yourself. You had thought about Minho the entire taxi ride back, his bewitching eyes and pretty eyes haunting you even in your dreams.
“Okay,” you agree, bracing yourself for the fallout. “What is your biggest secret?”
Minho goes rigid, and that horribly familiar, disconcerting feeling permeates the atmosphere between you both again. It’s like your question has sucked the oxygen out of the room, freezing you and Minho into an uncomfortable mold. His knuckles go white at where they so tightly clutch the side of the armchair, like it’s his only source of support. Immediately, you regret so directly asking him the question, impulsively blurting it out without easing into the topic. And now that you’ve made yourself blatantly obvious, you would probably never hear him say it.
“That’s the one thing I can’t tell you. I’m sorry.” Minho clenches his jaw, turning his head to the side, as if he’s willing himself to keep quiet.
“Yeah, whatever.” You pinch the bridge of your nose, wondering how you’ll ever get him to open up. But he’s not the only one to blame this cat-and-mouse game on—barely an hour ago, you were in the sketchiest part of town, trying to catch the last bus out so you could indefinitely table your problems. “How about we just—”
“But I can tell you my second biggest secret,” Minho offers, and you lean forward, startled. His knee bounces up and down, like whenever he’s nervous, and you so quickly soften.
“Minho, you don’t have to tell me anything. It was a stupid idea.” You let out a small huff. “I know I have a bad habit of running away… but I’m here for you too.”
“You can run as much as you want, I’d still find you anyway,” Minho counters.
Instantly, you go warm, trying to play it off by feigning annoyance. “You’re so…”
“I’m so…?” He smirks, echoing your words.
“I don’t even know.” You roll your eyes, focusing very intently on the eyelet hem of your blouse and trying not to react too excitedly when he moves from the armchair to sit down next to you. “I just want you to know that you can tell me anything.”
Minho smiles. “I know I can. I’ve just never told anyone this before.”
“Alright, let’s hear it.”
All of the possible answers he might give you flip through your head, your mind skimming the pages in a book full of completely absurd ideas that could probably never be true. Minho failed his LSAT. Minho is the neighborhood plug. Minho’s famous tiramisu that he brings to every Friendsgiving is actually store bought. Or maybe—
“I’m a virgin.”
“Oh.” You just blink at him for a moment, unsure of what to say. Out of everything you thought of, you definitely never imagined it would be this. Of course, you aren’t one of those people who believes in losing your virginity as soon as possible; you yourself never slept with someone until a little over a year ago, and it was only ever with one person you were very deeply in love with. You suppose you fell for meaningless stereotypes, when you just assumed that someone as attractive and charismatic as Minho would have already had sex. Watching countless women flirt with Minho during outings also wasn’t much evidence for the truth.
“Sorry,” Minho says, laughing lightly. “I just blurted that out. Was it too much information?”
“No, no, Minho, you’re fine,” you immediately backtrack, realizing how awkward your reaction must have looked. “It’s normal. I completely get it, you know.”
Minho pauses, frowning in confusion. “Wait, so you and Jisung never…?”
If you were a little warm before, you’re positively aflame now. “No, um, we did. I’m just… I guess I get wanting to wait for the right person. I mean, that’s why you haven’t yet, right?”
“Something like that.” Minho’s eyes glitter, completely unreadable. “But I can’t reveal everything at the same time. It’s your turn. What is your biggest secret?”
“I saw this coming,” you mumble, glancing back at the mantle, at that picture of you both. Minho’s bunny ears, your reluctant smile. The blank space in the photo that should have been occupied.
Minho grabs your hand, and you jerk in surprise, but his eyes are full of sincerity. “I was just messing with you. You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.”
You shake your head, running your thumb over the side of his ring finger, the callus he has there because of the strange way he holds pencils. It’s strange, how you have just innately memorized the fine details about him, how you treasure each one like it’s a gift.
“It’s not that I don’t want to, Minho. I’ve just been unable to confront it for so long, you know? If I say it out loud, then it’s final. I’m alone. And I don’t want to be.”
There’s a look of understanding that passes between you both, Minho’s eyes widening by the slightest fraction when he realizes what you’re hinting at. Or rather, who.
“You’re not alone,” he says quietly, his hand tightening around yours, affirming himself. “We can confront it together.”
It feels easy when Minho says it, facing the truth. Everything’s easy when he’s around. You hate the beach, but you’ll go to California and get sand in your hair if he was with you. You’re afraid of cemeteries, but he whistles your favorite song whenever you both pass one, so then it just seems like another sunny park. You’re perpetually stressed about grad school, but Minho always cuts up fruits into star shapes and brings them to you when you’re camping in the library, and suddenly, studying doesn’t seem so scary anymore.
You don’t want to run anymore.
“I don’t love Jisung anymore.” Your voice is soft, maybe a little strained. “I haven’t, for a while. That’s my secret.”
People have been pestering you nonstop for the last few months, whispering behind your back about how hung up you apparently are over your ex. The disdainful looks you shot at the romance section in the bookstore, the hours you spent your free time swaddled in bed, staring at your ceiling. That was enough for people to make their assumptions. But it felt easier that way, rather than acknowledging that you’ve moved on, that you’re afraid of what’s next, the unknown. Wallowing felt better than square one.
“Still feel alone?” Minho questions, letting go of your hand to tuck a loose piece of hair behind your ear. “Because I promise you’re not.”
“No,” you admit, the weight in your heart shifting elsewhere. “I told you I was going to marry him, remember?”
“I do,” he whispers. “I remember.”
“That’s in the past. I don’t love him anymore,” you repeat yourself, pleading with him between the lines. “I’ve been selfish, Minho. I didn’t want to say it, but at the same time, I was praying you understood. I was wrong. But tell me you understand now, Min. Please.”
You don’t know who moves first, and it doesn’t matter. Not when the gap between you and him is so unbearably small, the tension so painfully heavy.
Fireworks don’t go off, an offscreen crowd doesn’t burst into applause. The faint howling of wind can be heard, and the cats mewl from somewhere else in the house. It feels so shockingly normal, so right, with his lips on yours. Minho kisses you, and it feels like coming home.
“No one else,” he murmurs your name over and over again, like it’s a prayer. “There’s been no one else.”
Minho cups your neck with one hand, circling the other around your waist, tugging you closer to him. It’s almost overwhelming, the feeling of him all over you. It fills you with a yearning, even though you have him right here, where he reels you in so deftly. The sleeve of your cardigan slips down, exposing the bare skin of your back, but neither of you moves to fix it back into its place. The kiss deepens with your longing, the urgency in which you crave each other abundant. The sound of your sighs fill the room, your desires bared to each other so completely. This is all you have wanted for so long, but you can’t forget yourself, the uncertainty that tugs in the back of your mind.
With strength to rival the gods, you pull away from his lips and bore your eyes into his, to catch any sign of doubt. You find nothing at all, save for utter devotion. “Minho. I can’t—we can’t. I don’t want to feel like you’re being pressured into this. You should wait for—”
“For you. I’ve been waiting for you.”
You let out a sigh of disbelief, shaking your head slowly. “What if we never had this conversation? What if I left this city, and we went our separate ways? And you never saw me again?”
Minho’s eyes sadden even as he loops his fingers under the straps of your tank top, swiftly pushing the material off your shoulders. “No one else.”
“Lee Minho, you can’t be real…”
“But I am. And so are you, somehow.” He runs the pads of his fingers down your arms, looking down at you in awe, as if he can’t even comprehend that this is truly happening. “Tell me you want this too.”
You reach your arms up, cradling his beautiful face in your hands so you can look him in the eye. “I want you.”
And then Minho’s grasping the backs of your thighs and lifting you off of the couch with ease, moving you to the adjacent room while simultaneously kissing you. You’ve never been inside his bedroom, what has been a vastly forbidden territory to you in your mind, all this time. It smells overwhelmingly of Minho, of mint and of cherries and of a heady je ne sais quoi.
Minho’s soul is made of sunshine, so pure and gentle in every single aspect, but the way he touches you is nothing but electric, like he’s lightning and you’re a midnight sky. You feel like you’re nineteen and having your first kiss again, shy and unsure of yourself, even though you are far from inexperienced. But ironically, it’s Minho who moves confidently, who maneuvers you onto the bed so expertly that his own innocence can very much be doubted.
And then he’s slotted between your legs, kneeling in front of you at the edge of the bed like your hips are his altar. And you really might as well be some deity, with how he carefully, reverently peels off your stockings, worshipping every inch of skin that he frees.
He kisses the spot right above your knees, and then trails his lips even higher, onto your inner thighs, so close yet not nearly enough. Curious fingers skim the thin waistband of your panties, and he looks up at you—questioning, hesitant. “Can I take this off?”
You can barely muster a reply, merely nodding as he slides the panties off, haphazardly throwing them elsewhere. Minho slowly pushes your legs apart, his gaze focusing on your dripping core. You feel your breath hitch as he takes you in, staring at you with his mouth slightly agape, eyes glassed over in astonishment. And then he smirks at you, promptly burying his head in between your thighs in order to finally satiate himself.
Minho’s face scrunches up in a delight that has you blushing, like your pussy is the sweetest meal he’s ever had in his life. “You taste so fucking good. Is this what I’ve been missing out on?”
You can’t find it in yourself to answer, when he dives back in, his enthusiasm manifesting in something hungry and achingly steady. He takes his time, mapping out your cunt with his mouth, memorizing the way you twitch when he alters a specific movement. Minho takes his time eating your pussy, tonguing at you in leisure, learning what exactly makes you tick. Every flick of his tongue is deliberate, measured, like he’s already done this a thousand times before, but with the way his eyes never leave yours, you know this is his love letter to you, written out in the most intimate, intricate way you could imagine.
You gasp as he firmly runs his tongue through your folds, the pressure building into a tight coil of heat in your stomach, an unmatched feeling of ecstasy you can just never seem to achieve on lonely nights. But Minho makes it seem effortless, torturing you by avoiding just the exact place where he knows you need him the most.
“Minho,” you whine, palming at your breasts over the lace of your flimsy bra. “Don’t tease.”
He laughs against your cunt, sending the vibrations of his own filthy enjoyment through your core. “That needy already? Is it that good, beautiful?”
You pout, unable to fathom how controlled he is, how assured he is in something that should be completely uncharted for him. But you know Minho is a learned man, approaching all actions both in and out of work fully prepared, having done his research on every single hypothetical. It’s extremely attractive, and it turns you on even more, thinking of how he undressed you with the focused goal of making you come.
You also know that Minho can never say no to you, so he obliges, suddenly sucking at your clit with an obscene precision that has you seeing stars even on this stormy night. The way he speaks into you is almost enough, the dirty promises he whispers under his breath, how he groans your name when you arch into his mouth. Minho spreads his palm flat on your stomach, keeping you anchored to both his bed and heart, completely greedy over you.
He kisses your pussy like it’s a gift—the best one he’s ever had, with how he moans into you like he’s the one being so relentlessly pleasured. He eats you out like a starved man, drinking in every drop of arousal that you release, revelling in your taste like you’ve blessed him. Somewhere in the middle, he’s discarded his shirt, engrossed in only you.
Minho’s nose bumps against your clit as he delves deeper into you, the tip of his ring finger teasing at your entrance, making you flutter in need. Carefully, he eases his finger inside completely, delicately curling it into you. He gauges your reaction, studying how your brows pull together as you moan, how you tremble when he adds in another finger, steadily building up speed.
Your fingers tangle into his soft, soft hair, holding onto him for support as he brings you to that final wave of euphoria, locking eyes with you. Your legs tremble around his leg, threatening to close and shut him out, but he grips your thighs like a vice, keeping them open as he finishes what he started. Every stroke of his tongue is a hot flash of white on your vision, every thrust of his fingers inside of you coaxing you through the high. You come undone like that, crying out as Minho brings you back down, gently reeling you back in with hot, open-mouthed kisses pressed upon your drenched thighs.
Minho rises to stand up, towering over you as you fall back into the sheets, dazed. His pupils are dilated, his heady gaze is intensified rather than sated, like he just can’t get enough. Neither can you, leaning up to meet his lips in the middle as he unbuckles his belt and kicks off his jeans.
Minho unclasps your bra and tosses it to the side, cupping your tits in his beautiful hands as he kisses over your clavicles, traveling up your neck. You grab at his boxers, trying to get them off, but Minho catches your wrists, halting you as he pulls away.
“Sorry, just give me one second,” Minho says sheepishly, turning to open the bottom drawer of his bedside drawer. He rifles through its contents with an impatient huff, until he slams it closed, finding what he’s been looking for. He tears open the golden packet with his teeth, meeting your eyes. “Never thought I’d have to use this, but a man can never be too prepared, you know?”
You giggle, rolling your eyes. “I know you, Minho.”
He frees himself of the final layer that separates you both, before leaning into you, speaking against your lips in a low tone that sends a cool shiver through your body. “You really do.”
Minho gently pushes you back to rest you comfortably on his pillows, your hair spread out like a fan as he cages you in with his body. Your bare chests are pressed against each other, skin sticking to skin, and you can feel the racing beat of Minho’s heart; he’s nervous, no matter how confident he appears to be.
“Hey,” you murmur, pressing a small kiss to the corner of his mouth. “It’s okay if you want to take a break, Min.”
He blinks cutely, mulling over your words. Minho once told you that blinking slowly means “I love you” in cat language, and the memory of that is enough to have your heart cracking completely open and spilling out all warm and cozy.
“I’m not nervous because it’s my first time.” Minho smooths a loose lock of hair out of your eyes. “I’m worried it isn’t going to be good enough for you.”
Considerate, even when it shouldn’t be about you.
“Minho, it's going to be perfect because it’s you.” You let out a sigh, quirking an eyebrow at him playfully. “Besides, I honestly would never have thought you’re a virgin, given your performance so far tonight.”
He huffs out a small breath of relief. “Okay, good, because I did do some—”
“—research,” you finish.
You both just smile at each other like idiots, before the hazy wave of arousal sweeps over, and you become aware yourselves again, that you’re finally here, alone and completely bared to each other. Minho looks deep into your eyes, and you just can’t remember the last time you’ve experienced something so romantic, so fervent and utterly consuming. One hand holds your face— tender, like it’s your first time—while Minho uses the other to guide himself inside of you.
The feeling of Minho entering you is an exquisitely tortuous stretch that has you both sighing into each other’s mouths—you definitely aren’t used to how big Minho is, but it’s the months of pining, of inexplicable need, finally being satisfied that you really need to process. The first few thrusts are slow and experimental, with Minho giving you the time to adjust to his size, but then you wrap your legs around his lower back, prompting him to go faster.
You never thought Minho could get any more beautiful than he already is, but now that you have him like this, his sharp features contorted with pleasure, you think otherwise. You meet him in a messy kiss, tugging at the ends of his hair, and you don’t anticipate that simple action to have such a profound consequence, because before you realize it, Minho lets out a choked moan, his hips stuttering against yours.
“Did you just—”
Minho pulls back to look at you, his cheeks flushed with both exertion and a bashfulness that would have you kicking your feet if you could. “I can’t help it, it was hard enough not to when I was going down on you. You’re just so fucking sexy.”
“Okay, now I can believe that you’re a virgin,” you snicker, but you peck him on the cheek, smoothing out any lingering embarrassment. “And now that it’s done, how do you feel?”
He frowns, shaking his head. “Fucking amazing, but I’m not done yet. You haven’t finished.”
“But technically I already did—”
“Are you really arguing with me right now?”
You concede. “I—no.”
Minho smiles in satisfaction, before turning to his side, pulling over an extra pillow and slightly tilting you over so he can slide it under you. You let him do as he pleases, but give him a questioning look.
“I read online that it helps you finish faster,” Minho explains, grinning. “Something about the angle, I suppose.”
Giggling, you trace your fingers along his jawline and then kiss him, lightly biting his lower lip as you do. “Lee Minho, you’re such a dream.”
That clear proclamation is enough for Minho’s eyes to initially widen and then fill with something dark, spurring him to ram into your pussy so suddenly that you jolt in his arms. He picks up his pace with a newfound determination, and as always, he’s right—the angle in which he slams into you is sharp, hitting you in just the right place.
“Baby…”
You whimper at the roughness in his tone, at the desperation in how he groans sin into your ears. It all so starkly contrasts with the achingly sweet way his hand clasps yours, keeping you tethered to him like a promise.
You feel that high approach you even faster than before, and Minho notices too, with how your sighs have taken on an unsteady rhythm. He presses his fingers against your lips, you obey his unsaid command, opening your mouth and letting him wet them, before he begins to rub circles into your clit, urging you to come.
“Minho, Minho,” you gasp out his name over and over again, the multiple sensations clouding over your mind and overwhelming you in the best way, forcibly enticing you to your climax.
“He’s my best friend,” he says against your lips, panting. “But I was never his the way I was yours.”
That’s all you need to be pushed over the edge, the feeling so intense that you teeter in that delicate balance between utter bliss and unconsciousness. You let out a broken moan as you finish, but Minho’s grip stays on you, firm and possessive, before it’s his turn again. It’s addictive, how he shudders so softly, his shoulders slightly shaking against yours.
“And I am yours.”
Minho’s body slumps against yours, and he buries his face into your neck, as you both catch your breath. He then rolls off of you, settling himself against the headboard and encircling you in his arms, kissing you all over your face and hugging you close.
“I think I get it now,” Minho whispers, his breath tickling your ear. “Why they call it a little death.”
“Hm?” you mumble, still caught in a haze. Minho just smiles at you fondly, kissing your forehead.
“People say that when you orgasm, it’s a little death. I used to think it was rather morbid, but I now understand. It feels like I’ve just died and been reborn. It feels like you’ve brought me back to life.”
“Was it that good, beautiful?” You give him a teasing smile, echoing him from earlier.
“Mhm. So good that I’m ready to die again, actually,” Minho says, laughing as you grip his shoulders, letting you push him back onto the pillows. He falls back with a small grunt, a sound so insignificant that it shouldn’t be reigniting you so quickly.
You sling your leg over Minho’s torso, straddling his hips. “So am I.”
The night doesn’t claim you until hours have gone by, when Minho is finally fast asleep, many little deaths later. You can’t help but admire him in the silence, him lying there with his face pressed into the pillow, one arm thrown over your waist, keeping you close even when surrendered to sweet slumber.
His hair flops over his forehead and into his face, where it slightly flutters as he breathes. The moonlight filters through the gap in his gauzy curtains, lighting him up in the most gorgeous way. He is so precious, more than anything you have ever seen.
Gently, you place the smallest kiss on the tip of his nose, on that tiny freckle that enchants you so very much—Minho is enchanting. He stirs slightly, mumbling your name under his breath, but fortunately, he doesn’t wake up. You don’t want to give him any more trouble tonight about his biggest secret, after all.
“I love you too, Lee Minho.”
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AUTHOR'S NOTE
it's 1 am and i have a flight in a few hours FML but i just loveeee soft fluffy sexy soulmate!minho. i have a part 2 in mind for this universe bc i adore it smmm but idk??? maybe i'm just delusional because i have a new crush </3 anyway, i now promise to get onto my other wips hehe, just had to get this out of the system🥰🤞
warnings: unprotected sex, creampie, finger sucking, cum tasting, idk it’s real lovey-dovey read at ur own risk lol!
a/n: inspired by this fun drabble that u should go give a read!!! obviously i saw it, loved it, and decided that i had to do what i do with most things and make it about changbin lol. pls let me know if u enjoy <3
“changbin.”
he grunts. it’s deep, gritty in his throat. it sounds like it’s rumbled all the way up from that beautiful chest of his, rough like sandpaper but as warm as a quilt. changbin holds your legs up with strong hands, keeps you spread at the ankles to give himself more room to dig deep.
he’s so focused on the messy sight between your legs that he doesn’t notice the tone of your voice. you don’t want him to stop — not even close, if he were to pull out now you’d probably cry, and not in the way either of you like.
the skin of his belly is warm when you press your hands to it. his abdomen is taut, firm with the effort he’s using with a layer of sweet softness over it. your fingers sink into him, indenting the skin white. they dip to his waist then, clutching onto the meat of him so you can hang on for the ride. changbin grunts again, his hips stuttering.
“changbin.” it’s whined this time, reedy and pitiful and bouncing right along with his fluid thrusts. those dark eyes of his remain locked on your cunt to watch himself spear you open, eyes wide and enamored in his unwavering focus, his cheeks puffing with effort.
“ah, yeah, gorgeous. say my name. you sound so beautiful, sweetheart.”
he shakes his head slowly like he’s in disbelief. you could too, but that’s just changbin, still sweet talking you like he doesn’t already have you naked and in his bed, like he’s not already buried balls deep inside of you and coated in your sticky sweetness.
“no, no i mean- changbinnie…” you squirm. it finally pulls him out of his stupor — changbin’s hips grind to a halt immediately, and he pets his calloused hands over you like he’s feeling for a wound. the look of concern that dampens his handsome features makes you pout in annoyance with yourself. you’re going about this all wrong, but he’s got you so dick drunk that it’s the best your hazy mind can do.
“what’s wrong? y’bo?”
you cover your eyes with your hands, and changbin makes a soft, questioning noise. he holds your wrists and pries them away, eyebrows furrowing, his head ducking to look into your eyes. you can’t have him thinking he hurt you somehow, so you ignore that niggling embarrassment that’s coiling springs in your belly to set the record straight as soon as possible.
“it’s silly,” you warn him seriously, and changbin tuts.
“tch. you? silly?” his smile is soft. “will you tell me anyway?”
you’d do anything if he just keeps looking at you like that. like you’re precious, like you’re a miracle to him. that look… the obvious answer to your unasked question burrows itself right into the nooks and crannies between your ribs. you feel warm all the way down to your toes.
“do you still like me?”
changbin sighs. it’s not put-upon, it’s not indignant, it’s fond. that’s all he knows how to be with you.
he grinds forward just enough to remind you that his cock is still buried deep inside. he looks from your eyes and down to your stuffed cunt, back up again, back down. up. his eyelashes flutter quickly like he’s waiting for you to catch on. there’s a handsome grin growing on his handsome face.
“do i still like you…” he mutters. “do i still like you? ahh, do i not tell you enough? yah, seo changbin, are you an idiot?”
he doesn’t drop your legs; he guides them back down to the mattress instead with a gentle squeeze to your ankles, sliding one hand up the length of your bent leg and clutching onto your thigh while the thumb on his other hand brushes against your parted lips, elbow planted firmly on the mattress. changbin blankets you completely — he’s always warm, but it feels like you’re being roasted over a fire like this, melting instantly under his attentive touch. you wrap yourself around him, arms and legs just as greedy as your softened cunt. changbin hums deep in his throat, licks up, up, up your bared jawline until he’s able to kiss hotly at your earlobe.
“there you go. hold onto me, yeobo. hold onto me tight, don’t let go. let me- ah, fuck, let me show you.”
changbin fucks you deep like this, but that look. that look in his eyes feels even deeper. his eyebrows tick, but he doesn’t look away, leaning his forehead to yours and keeping your gazes locked. changbin’s nose brushes the tip of yours, a happy accident only until he leans forward to do it again on purpose, nuzzling them together in a kiss before he finally gives you the real thing.
“s-show me what? hm? mmph, yes. bin.” he kisses the question from your lips with his little mouth, laps it up with his needy tongue. you already know the answer to this one too. you feel it in every move he makes, every jut of his hips and every steaming press of his lips to yours. it’s always hard for him to vocalize like this, when he’s loving you so diligently and working so hard, a one track mind your changbin is, but he grits his teeth and tries his best because you asked him a question he wouldn’t dare ignore.
“how much i love you. how much i love you, ah yeobo, i like you so much, gorgeous, i love you.”
his eyes are dazed, still wide and enamored and so endearing when paired with the pout of his plush lower lip that you just can’t help but suck on it. changbin’s pink tongue meets you in the middle; he kisses you breathless as his hips snap, snakes his hand around your thigh so that the pit of your knee rests in the crook of his elbow for a better angle. he’s so deep it shocks a squeal from your mouth.
“baby! baby, changbinnie i love- love you,” comes your babbled response. your desperation claws itself from underneath your skin. “so- so good, you’re so good. gonna- mm! make me cum, g’na make me cum.”
he whines then, his own desperation a perfect match for yours. changbin ruts his thick cock into you like his life depends on it; his whole body shakes as he presses his flushed face into the sweaty skin of your neck, and he finishes you off with a probing hand between your leg, his dexterous tongue lapping at your shoulder. he feels you cum, feels the pulse of your sopping cunt and the way your thighs snap closed around his thick hips just begging him to join you, so of course he does, helpless to obey whenever you call.
you spend several blissful moments wrapped in changbin, only interrupted by him heaving himself up onto his fists and settling on his haunches. his grin is sleepy and sated, his chest rising and falling quickly. your legs try to snap shut again when his softening cock slips from your clutches, but he catches them in calloused hands and pries them apart again. your pussy clenches fitfully on a gape, pulsing in search of that thickness that plugged you up so nicely.
you’re leaking him. you can feel his cum oozing, so you push outward to show him more now that he’s watching. his fingers find you again, keeping care to touch you gently in your oversensitivity.
“do you see?” changbin hums. his fingers are dripping white when he lifts them from your cunt, cum coating the pretty shimmer of your essence. “hm? that’s how much i love you, gorgeous.” he leads his dripping fingers to your mouth, groaning at the way you suck them inside and curl your tongue around them.
he’s bitter, tangy now that his cum has mixed with your juices. your eyes flutter closed, and changbin’s pointed fingertips drag along your tastebuds.
if this is how he tastes when he loves you, you hope he’ll bend down to taste yours from the source.
You call Seungmin pretty once—he makes you cry it into the sheets
⤷ That middle picture brought me to my knees this morning... and theeennnn this happened♡ [this is kind proof read... just kinda]
⋆｡‧˚ʚ Masterlist ɞ˚‧｡⋆
You're not even sure when he shoved your panties to the side, only that he’s ruined them now, soaked through with your slick and his spit. They’re still caught around one ankle as your legs tremble, hooked over his shoulders, ankles crossed behind his back to keep him right there.
But that’s not what gets you.
Not the tongue — though that’s working you open with slow, excruciating precision.
Not the hands — though they’re holding your thighs apart like you’re something to be studied.
No.
It’s his eyes.
It’s the way they don’t waver.
Sharp. Dark. Locked on yours like he dares you to look away.
“Minnie—” your voice breaks. “You look so fucking pretty like that.” His eyebrows lift, just a little.
“You do,” you choke out. “God, your eyes—keep looking at me. Don’t stop.” He groans, deep and ragged, like he’s getting off on the praise alone. The vibrations shoot through you.
He keeps his mouth on you, blinking up at you with those dark, burning eyes while he traces soft figure eights around your clit, then he pulls back—only long enough to let a long strand of spit fall from his mouth and land right on your swollen clit. You gasp, hips bucking but he presses you back down, fingers splayed over the plush of your thigh.
“You think I’m pretty?” he asks, quiet. Dangerous.
You nod, breathless, wrecked.
“You like the way I look between your legs, baby?”
“Y-yeah, I—fuck, I love it—”
“Say it again.” He licks a stripe up your cunt, coaxing the words out of you while those fucking eyes stare up, surveying the way your brow furrows and lips part.
“You’re so—fuck—you’re so pretty, Minnie. You look so good between my legs.” He pulls back only long enough to murmur, “You wanna come while I look at you like this? While I eat your pussy and you cry about how pretty I am?”
You whimper. That’s all he needs.
His hands lock tighter on your thighs, pushing them wider, and he devours you. Tongue fucking, lips sucking, pace quickening until all you can do is hold on. Your fingers thread through his hair, back arching off the ruffled sheets and you sob. Every time you look down, his gaze is there — hot, wild, completely locked on you.
“Oh, fuck, you’re crying?” You try to cover your face but Seungmin is quicker, he grabs your wrists and pins them above your head. “Uh-uh. Don’t hide. Let me see.”
His fingers slip in, press up and curl. “That’s it, baby,” he sets a brutal pace from the start, lewd sounds echo and mix with pathetic whines and gasps. Seungmin leans in and kisses your tears away.
“Oh, she’s gone, huh?” he grins, cocky and hot before going back down and slipping his fingers out of you. He lands a soft slap to your cunt and you jolt, crying out his name. “My baby is wrecked, isn’t she?”
He spits directly onto your cunt—warm, thick—and watches it drip down to your hole before licking it back up with a groan that sounds inhuman
“This pussy's so wet for me,” he mutters, nose bumping your clit. “All this cause you think I’m pretty? Just a couple looks and now you’re begging to come on my face.”
“Seungmin—” he slurps, it’s obscene.
“You’re shaking,” he rasps against your clit. “You gonna cry harder for me, baby? You wanna cry while I make you come all over my fucking face?”
You sob something that might be “yes,” might be “fuck,” might just be your soul leaving your body.
“Good girl,” he growls, sucking your clit between his lips then pulling back, “Cry, then. Show me what that pretty face looks like when you lose your fucking mind.”
And you do.
Your orgasm rips through you like a scream, like a full-body confession, thighs convulsing around his head as you wail. He keeps going—grinding his tongue into you, licking through your orgasm like he’s trying to push you into another. Your body tries to jerk away, but he doesn’t let you.
“Oh, no,” he says, voice hoarse, face soaked. “You're not done. You don't come once and expect me to stop.”
He flattens his tongue again, licks a broad stripe up your slit. You sob, raw.
“S-seungmin, please, please—I can’t”
“God, I love when you beg.” He pressed his face back in. “You can,” he hisses. “You will.” His fingers slip back in, dragging out your climax to impossible heights. You arch, squirm, try to fight it but all it takes is one hand pressing down on your lower stomach to keep you in place.
“I want you ruined. Wanna keep you here all night. Just like this. Pretty little mess crying on my tongue.” Your second orgasm blinds you, hitting and crashing like a wave you never stood a chance against. You’re arching again, sobs clawing their way out of your throat as you shatter, twitching through it while he moans like he was getting off on your taste alone.
And still—he doesn’t stop.
“Too much?” he murmurs, licking through your aftershocks. “Then cry harder.”
His fingers work you open while he kisses up your stomach, dragging his spit-slick mouth along your skin, all heat and menace. The squelching of come and spit is nearly louder than your cries, or your heart hammering in your ears while you fight to catch your breath.
He kisses you—filthy, open-mouthed, forcing you to taste yourself, then he whispers against your lips
“Next time you call me pretty, I’m going to make you come until you pass out. Got it?”
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❑ NOW PLAYING: 「 몸 (body) 」 「 FEVER 」 「 Moth to a Flame 」
When your dad remarried after your mother’s death, you never expected to get a step-brother out of it, especially not one as mean as Christian. Despite bullying you in your youth, Christian finally mellowed out and now you have a playful and teasing relationship, like most siblings. Except Christian isn’t like most siblings. On the surface, he’s your step-brother who playfully teases you but deep down, he hides something much darker.
Or the one where your hot, tattooed, older step-brother has the hots for you and thinks none of the guys you date are good enough for you so he makes your boyfriend break up with you on a family vacation and shows you that only he can make you truly happy.
step-bro!Christian × fem!Reader
«« previous || m.list || taglist || end.
❑ WORDCOUNT — 22.3k (total: 47.3k)
❑ WARNINGS — adult dialogue, female reader, curvy reader, mentions of: food & alcohol consumption, fictional versions of real places, axe throwing, parental death, marriage, wild animal encounters, scooter riding, cheating & infidelity; THIS FIC CONTAINS A TABOO TOPIC. IF STEPCEST BOTHERS YOU, DO NOT READ THIS!
❑ CONTENT — slow burn, angst, smut; themes of stepcest, taboo topics, family vacation, Thailand; non idol au, step-sibling au
❑ NOTES — this is my first major DPR IAN fic so be nice. He mainly goes by Christian in this so keep that in mind. The location is a fictional version of a replace: Phuket, Thailand. I’ve never been but I did a LOT of research ((as usual)) on the places mentioned but of course, I can only learn so much from a screen. If you’re from Thailand, I don’t mean any disrespect. It’s a beautiful country and learning what I have makes me want to visit sometime. THERE ARE THEMES OF STEPCEST AS WELL AS ACTUAL STEPCEST IN THIS FIC. IF THIS TOPIC BOTHERS YOU, DO NOT READ THIS AND MOVE ON. YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. Thank you so much for hyping me up @unholywriters you have been my rock during this long ass writing process and thank you for beta-ing for me. It means so much! Thank you to everyone else who reads and reblogs this and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.
MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED.
AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED.
❑ SMUT WARNINGS: STEPCEST (do not read if this makes you uncomfortable), oral (f receiving, m receiving), fingering (f receiving), dry humping, spanking (f receiving), protected & unprotected sex (do the first, not the second), choking (f receiving), biting (f receiving), dirty talk, praise (f receiving), body worship (f receiving), breeding kink, strength kink, and that should be all of them but if I missed any, please let me know!
The next morning, you woke up and decided to shower, hoping to wash away the guilt and shame of what you’d allowed to happen in the car the night before. You heard your boyfriend stir and even more guilt and shame hit you as the events of what happened after you returned surfaced.
Daniel had waited up for you and when you returned, he immediately apologized for his behavior and his words. His apology included a long night of groveling and though you shouldn’t have allowed it to happen, you needed more after what happened in the car.
The plan for the day was to visit the Soi Dog Foundation followed by a boat tour with dinner provided. The morning was spent learning about the foundation, interacting with the dogs, and playing with the puppies. Afterwards, you returned to the resort to relax for a bit before heading out to the marina for the boat tour. Back at the villa, you decided to relax while Daniel showered.
While lying on the bed, an arm thrown over your eyes to block out the light, you felt your phone buzz and grabbed the device as it lay next to you. Lifting your arm from your eyes, you checked the screen to see you had a notification from Christian. Sitting up quickly, you unlocked the screen and opened your messages.
Christian: I can’t stop thinking about last night.
Your heart started to beat faster in your chest as you read over the text again. ‘Did he… enjoy it?’ you wondered, a mix of conflicting emotions swirling inside you. As you were trying to figure out what the tone of his message was, another text came through which confirmed your suspicions.
Christian: the way you fell apart and came because of my fingers. Makes me want to spread you out on my bed and see how fast I can make you cum
Your walls clenched around nothing as your lips parted in shock. ‘Where is this coming from?’ you asked yourself, thumbs hovering over your keyboard, contemplating what you could even say back. Before you could reply, another text came through, even more inappropriate than the last.
Christian: Want to hold you down and make you cum over and over again. Fuck you until you can’t walk and my name is the only thing you can remember.
You quickly typed a response, hoping that Christian was texting you by mistake.
You: uh, i think you’re texting the wrong person lol
Feeling a small sense of relief at perhaps catching your step-brother’s dirty texts meant for someone else, you were about to set your phone aside when another text came through which completely squashed that relief.
Christian: no i’m not, Y/N. those texts were meant for you
A fresh wave of arousal surged through you, your thighs clenching together involuntarily. He meant to send those texts to you. Was he out of his mind? Last night was a mistake, you both had a bit too much to drink and the tension between you had been thick for days now.
It shouldn’t have happened and most importantly, it could not happen again.
You: Christian. What the fuck?
His response was instant.
Christian: what? Am I remembering it wrong or did you not enjoy it last night?
You: we were drunk!
Christian: we weren’t that drunk
You: and it shouldn’t have happened at all!
Christian: but it did. And it could happen again
You: no it cannot! That can never happen again!
Christian: oh come on Y/N. stop fighting it.
You: stop fighting what? You’re my brother, Christian!
Christian: no, I’m not. I’m not your brother. I’m your step-brother but if I had a choice, I would have never become that. I can never be your brother. Not when all I want to do is bend you over the edge of my bed and fuck you until your legs are shaking and you’re screaming my name.
Christian: Your boyfriend was right. I want you so bad and I’m tired of pretending like I don’t.
Christian: there’s a reason I’ve never liked any of the guys you’ve dated or brought home and it’s not because I’m being an older, protective brother. It’s because none of them are good enough for you.
Christian: There’s only one person good enough for you Y/N.
Christian: only one person who can treat you like you deserve.
Christian: Only one who can really make you happy.
Christian: me. I’m the only one who can truly make you happy and treat you like you deserve
You stared at your phone screen in shock. The words didn’t stop there. Christian kept going.
Christian: I’m the only one who can make you feel like you felt last night. I did that. Not your boyfriend.
Christian: No, he stayed behind like a sulking child. He couldn’t even be man enough to apologize to you until late last night after I gave you that leg shaking orgasm. I did that.
Christian: and he’s clearly not fucking you right. I would. I can make you feel better than he ever could.
Christian: I thought I proved that last night but maybe we need round two so I can show you that I’m the only man you need.
As you were staring at your phone, you heard the shower shut off and quickly typed a response to Christian.
You: what we did was wrong. Despite whatever we feel, you’re my step-brother and I’m in a relationship. We were drunk and that’s no excuse. I think it would be best for the both of us if we just forgot what happened last night and move forward. We can never let something like that happen again. I’m with Daniel and while he may not be perfect, he is good to me and I do love him.
You: we can never, ever, under any circumstances do what we did last night again. You need help. And maybe I do as well but this, you and I, can never happen. For the sake of our parents and for the sake of my relationship, please stop.
You could hear your boyfriend moving around in the outdoor bathroom as you scrambled to try to delete the messages but another text came through that made you pause.
Christian: despite whatever we feel? So you do feel something for me?
You sighed exasperatedly, typing in a response before Daniel walked in.
You: we’re not talking about this right now. Just stop
Closing your messages, you put your phone on Do Not Disturb and locked the screen as Daniel reappeared, a towel hanging around his waist. He looked over at you sitting on the bed as you moved your phone to the bedside table. “What time are we leaving for dinner?” he asked suddenly, glancing at the clock on the wall.
“Uh, not for another few hours,” you answered as he moved towards the bed, leaning over to grab you behind the knees and drag you towards the edge of the bed. You let out a playful shriek as he pulled you towards him with a mischievous grin. “Daniel!”
“A few hours, huh?” he asked, leaning over to cage you against the mattress, his hips slotting between your thighs. “I think that’s more than enough time,” he murmured, starting to pepper kisses over your cheeks while you giggled.
“Enough time for what?” you asked, looking up at him as droplets from his hair dropped onto your neck and chest. He snaked a hand between your bodies, tugging at the towel which became loose and fell to the floor. “Does that answer your question?” he whispered against your skin as his hands wandered down to your hips, pushing your dress up to grab the waistband of your panties.
“Yeah,” you gasped as he pulled them down, discarding them on the floor as he knelt down.
“Yeah I think that answers my question.”
After your impromptu romp in the sheets with your boyfriend, you needed a quick shower, cleaning off your body before you got ready for dinner. The dress code was listed as classy and formal so you pulled on the only formal dress you brought with you, a strapless, sparkly dusty pink bodycon dress with an asymmetrical hemline, slit on the side leading up to a tie with ruching.
Over it, you wore a white scallop lace shrug that buttoned down the front and reached just under the bust. You donned your only nice pair of earrings, a pair of diamonds your father gifted you for your 18th birthday, a nice necklace and the bracelet Daniel had given you on the first day of the trip.
With the dress, you wore the most expensive shoes you’ve ever owned, a Christmas gift from Daniel. A pair of sparkly heels with red bottoms. As you finished applying your lip gloss, Daniel appeared behind you in the mirror, pressing a kiss to the back of your head.
“You look nice,” he said softly as he held your gaze in the mirror. “Well, you’ll have to wait until we get back to ruin this,” you said as you put the wand back in the tube of gloss. Daniel’s smile turned into a smirk as he watched you in the mirror. “I don’t know if I can wait that long,” he joked, wrapping his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.
“You will if you want a reward,” you replied as you put your lip gloss in your small clutch. “Fine,” he said, pressing a kiss to your neck. You stayed like that for a few moments before he spoke softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I love you so much. You know that, right?”
You turned in his hold, looking up at him as you gently cupped his cheek. “I know,” you replied, pressing a quick kiss to his lips and then wiping off any gloss that transferred. “I love you, too,” you continued. After a few more moments of exchanging mushy words, the moment was cut short by the ringing of your phone.
You walked back into the villa to answer it, unplugging it from the charger and swiped the button to answer it without checking the screen. “Hello?”
“Your dad told me to call you to check to see if you were ready yet,” Christian’s voice said. Your stomach did flips at the sound of his voice, low and husky like it had been the night before in the backseat of the SUV. You tried to force the memory out of your mind. “We just finished getting ready,” you said, glancing over where Daniel was going over his appearance once more, picking at his hair styled with product.
“Did you have fun?” Christian asked suddenly, drawing your attention away from your boyfriend. “What?” you asked softly. “With your boyfriend? You weren’t exactly quiet, you know,” Christian continued with a chuckle. “Were you trying to prove a point? Cause I haven’t changed my mind, Y/N,” he added. “I still want you. Regardless if he’s fucked you or not. I know I can do it better.”
You cleared your throat. “Where are we meeting?” you asked as Daniel walked into the room. “My villa if you want,” he said, the flirtatious tone in his voice telling you that your family wasn’t around him. “Where’s my dad?” you asked as Daniel grabbed his jacket and pulled it on. “Your dad, my mom, and Emmy are in the car,” Christian replied. “I’m standing outside it. Hurry up and join us. Maybe you can sit in the back with me again,” he added with an amused tone.
“We’re coming now,” you said, turning to look at Daniel who gave you a quizzical look. “See you soon,” you added and hung up. “They’re waiting at the car for us,” you explained as you put your phone on silent and slipped the device into your clutch. “Let’s not keep them waiting,” Daniel said, offering you his arm which you took.
The walk to the car was short and soon, the SUV came into view. Christian was still standing outside, leaning against the passenger side. As you approached you noticed how his attention shifted to you. He stood up straighter as you approached.
“Finally,” he said. “We’ve been waiting for you two,” he said, turning to open the door. “We’re in the back,” he added to Daniel. “Both Emmy and Y/N are wearing dresses and I personally wouldn’t want anything embarrassing to happen to them getting in and out of the car,” he continued.
If Daniel was upset about this arrangement, he didn’t voice it, instead moving into the seat behind the one left for you. Christian followed, taking the seat behind Emmy leaving the last middle seat for you. Emmy glanced over as you got in, a smirk forming over her lips.
“Damn,” she said softly. “Pulling no punches, I see,” she continued. You rolled your eyes as you shut the door and pulled the seat belt to buckle it in place. Emmy leaned over the space between you to speak in a lower voice. “Or are you trying to keep your man in line?”
You turned to look at her, sending her a warning look. Emmy gave you an amused smile and sat back up. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Christian looking at you, a fire in his gaze. You turned away, looking out your window as your dad started the car and pulled out of the parking space.
You weren’t sure how long the drive to the marina took but by the time you reached it and parked, the sun was on the descent. Daniel joined you outside the car as Emmy and Christian got out. Your dad had dressed up in a nice suit while Kate donned a fitted knee length black satin dress with an asymmetric neckline, and ruched sides and black heels.
Emmy had worn a very beautiful velvet bodycon dress in a light apricot color. It had a twisted bust and off the shoulder straps and gold chain straps. The hem hit the middle of her thigh and she wore a pair of gold heels with straps around the ankles.
Christian had also dressed up, wearing a pair of black slacks, a black lace button up with a blank tank underneath and a black blazer. You turned your attention away from him as you took your boyfriend’s arm and followed behind your dad and Kate.
Boarding the boat took no time, your tickets were scanned and you were shown to your seats. You ended up between Kate and your boyfriend while Christian sat across from you, your dad across from Kate, and Emmy across from Daniel.
You decided to occupy yourself by looking at the menu. Most of the options were seafood with a few steak and lamb options. When the server came by to get your drink orders, you ordered a simple sparkling strawberry lemonade, wanting to avoid alcohol. Daniel ordered a drink as did Emmy while your dad and Kate picked out a bottle of pinot noir.
When the drinks were brought around, you noticed Christian had ordered something that looked suspiciously like your drink. One of the sparkling lemonades in a deep blue color. ‘So he’s abstaining from alcohol tonight, too?’ you thought to yourself as you took a sip of your drink.
For an appetizer, the steak tartare and yellowtail sashimi were ordered as were two orders of caviar. You’d only had it once and didn’t mind it and as tonight was supposed to be the very nice, fancy dinner, you decided to partake a little.
For a second course, your dad and Kate split a wedge salad while you, your sister, Daniel, and Christian finished the appetizers and the server came to get your dinner orders. Emmy was on the same wavelength as you, ordering from the seafood menu. She picked the Norwegian salmon entree while you picked the Chilean Sea Bass.
Daniel ordered the lamb chops and promised to let you try if you let him try your fish. Your dad ordered the filet mignon and lobster for him and his wife to split while Christian followed their lead and ordered the filet medallions. You glanced at his choice and wondered what ‘Oscar style’ was.
Once dinner had been ordered and the menus taken away, you were suddenly left with nothing to occupy your attention. Thankfully, Kate struck up a conversation and you could look away from your drink and stop pretending to be interested in the textured glass.
“I’ve never seen this before,” Kate said, gesturing at your dress. “I bought it for the trip,” you replied, turning to look at her. “It’s gorgeous. I love the color, it looks so lovely on you,” she continued. “And this is beautiful,” she added, gently touching the scalloped lace shrug.
“Did you buy that for the trip too?”
As you continued to chat and talk about your outfit, you could feel a pair of eyes on you and glanced across from you, regretting it immediately. Christian was full on staring at you. Glancing back at Kate, you hoped your step-brother would stop being so obvious.
When dinner arrived, your ability to converse was hindered. The food was incredible and as promised, Daniel cut you a piece of his morel-crusted lamb chop. It was just as delicious as it looked and you swapped it for a bite of your sea bass.
Everything was cooked to perfection and now that the food was there, you could see exactly what Oscar style was on the steak medallions Christian ordered. Piled atop the steaks were helpings of lump crab meat, asparagus, and a creamy yellowish-sauce which your dad said was called béarnaise.
As you eyed Christian’s steak, he glanced at you, a smirk forming on his face. “You want to try it?” he asked. You shook your head. “No, that’s okay. Thank you though,” you replied, returning your attention back to your food. It was a lie. You did want to try it but didn’t think it appropriate to do in front of your boyfriend and family. Sharing food like that was intimate, something lovers usually did.
Like your dad and Kate. Christian was your step-brother, not your lover.
Thankfully, Christian didn’t bring it up again and the rest of dinner passed in casual and light-hearted conversation paired with amazing views of the island from the boat. After dinner, dessert was ordered and you decided to split the créme brûlée with Daniel while your dad and Kate split the bananas foster and Emmy ordered the berries and créme. Christian only ordered a black coffee.
When you’d taken your last bite, you pushed the ramekin towards Daniel. “The rest is yours,” you told him, setting your spoon down. “I’m going to use the restroom,” you announced and carefully got up, grabbing your clutch and made your way through the boat towards the restroom.
Once inside, you picked a stall and sat down to do your business. As you were sitting there, you decided to check your phone, pulling it out of your clutch and unlocking the screen. Your heart jumped into your throat upon seeing the notifications.
Christian: not now? Then we’ll talk about it later
Christian: don’t think i won’t remember
Christian: we’ll talk about this later
Those must have been the ones he’d sent after you put your phone on Do Not Disturb. There were more and judging by the time, he must have sent those while you were in the car.
Christian: you must be insane to wear something like that in front of me
Christian: especially after all the things i said to you
Christian: is it on purpose?
Christian: are you torturing me to prove a point?
Christian: god you’re driving me insane
Your walls clenched around nothing as you read on, reading the more recent slew of texts, ones he must have sent while sitting at the table.
Christian: you’re really playing with fire here, Y/N
Christian: don’t think i don’t know what you’re doing
Christian: you can ignore my texts all you want but i’m still here
Christian: i always will be
Christian: part of me wants to behave in front of your dad but part of me doesn’t care anymore
Christian: i’d take you right here if i could
Christian: don’t pretend like you didn’t notice me watching you
Your lips parted, breath shaky as you read on, thighs squeezing together.
Christian: do you want me to follow you? Cause i will
Christian: lock the bathroom door and bend you over the sink
Christian: lift that dress over your ass and pull those soiled panties down your thighs
Christian: drag it out until you beg me to fuck you
Christian: then slowly fill you up, stretch that tight cunt until you’re full of nothing but me
Christian: would you like that, baby?
Christian: want me to fill that sweet pussy with my cock and fuck you until you’re seeing stars?
Christian: i’ll do it. Just say the word and i’ll come to the bathrooms.
Christian: cover your mouth or even better, stuff those panties into them. What color are they? I bet they’re pink. I know how much you love that color
Christian: fuck you hard until you’re crying, your makeup ruined and all you can say is my name
Christian: maybe i’ll cum inside you and make you keep it inside you for the rest of the night
Christian: you want that? Want me to stuff you full of my cum?
The sound of the door opening tore you from your text and you quickly closed your screen, shoving your phone into your clutch before finishing your business and exiting the stall to wash your hands. Afterwards, you exited the restroom to the thankfully empty hall and made your way back to the table which had been cleared.
Your dad and Kate were no longer sitting in their seats and when you returned, Emmy told you that they had gone to the top deck of the boat to enjoy the fresh air. Daniel looked up as you returned and took your seat, reaching up to rub your back gently. “Everything okay?” he asked and you looked up at him, eyes wide. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Emmy joked. Christian, who hadn’t looked up when you sat down now glanced up.
You forced a smile and shook your head. “I’m fine,” you said softly. “I think I’m just a little tired,” you added. You smiled at your boyfriend who reached up to caress your cheek. You turned away after the gesture and noticed Christian staring at you. He had a quizzical look but the moment your eyes met, it was like he knew you’d seen his texts even though you had read receipts turned off.
There must have been something on your face, something in your eyes or expression that told him the truth and a smirk started to form on his face. You looked away, turning to your boyfriend. “Do you want to go up to the top deck?” you asked. He smiled and nodded. “I’m gonna use the restroom first,” he said, removing the napkin from his lap. “Meet you up there?” he asked, to which you nodded.
As he got up, you turned to your sister, anxious to not head up to the deck alone. “You coming?” you asked. She shook her head. “These heels and a moving boat are not a good mix,” she said with a chuckle. “I’m gonna stay here.” You nodded and got up. Heading for the steps alone, you climbed them until you reached the top deck, looking out over the open ocean to the right.
The sun had reached the horizon and started to dip below it, being at the perfect angle to look out without burning your retinas. Most of the guests were near the bow of the boat, with a few being on either side. You decided to move towards the stern, passing a few of the other patrons. Upon reaching the railing, you looked around, enjoying the view and ocean breeze.
The temperature had started to drop and a chill was settling in the salty air. You were about to turn and start looking for your boyfriend when you felt a hand on your arm gently tug you away and out of view of the other guests. You looked up to find Christian caging you in, your back against the wall behind you.
“Christian,” you hissed, trying to push him off. “What are you doing?”
“Did you enjoy those texts I sent you?” he asked softly, leaning closer, his body pressing against yours. Despite wanting to push him away and knowing it was the right thing to do, you couldn’t ignore the feeling inside you, the heat rushing to your core and the excitement that flooded your senses.
“We can’t do this,” you murmured, turning your head away as he leaned in closer, lips inches from your ear. “Why not?” he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. “Because I’m in a relationship and you’re my brother,” you answered. You heard a growl deep in his chest.
“I’m not your fucking brother,” he said in your ear. “I’m not related to you.” You shook your head. “It’s still wrong!” you hissed. “Says who?” Christian asked, lips ghosting over your neck. “Your boyfriend? He’s the only one who has even noticed,” he continued.
“Not even our dear parents or your sister have noticed.” A shiver went up your spine as you felt his lips against the spot where your neck and shoulder met. “We can’t,” you said weakly, head tilting to the side. “We can,” he replied softly. “We could. We should. I need you,” he continued, one of his hands sliding down your side, moving around to grab your ass as he pressed against you.
“We could sneak down to the bathrooms while everyone is up here,” Christian said, pulling back only to turn you around so you were now facing the wall. You felt him grind against your ass, his hardening cock pressing into you. “I could lift your dress right now, pull your panties to the side and slip right inside,” he whispered in your ear.
You let out a low moan as he continued to rut against you. “Cover your mouth as I fuck you against this wall. No one would even know. Not when the fireworks start. You felt his hand close around your throat. “Do you want that?” he whispered. “Want me to fuck you out in the open like that where anyone, including your precious boyfriend, could stumble on us?”
You shook your head, biting back another moan as he grinded against you. Christian scoffed in your ear. “Don’t lie to me,” he murmured. “I be the idea has you fucking dripping right now. If I reached down between your legs, your panties would be soaked. You love the idea of getting caught with my cock buried inside you. I bet your cunt is throbbing at the thought right now.”
He was right in that regard, your walls were clenching around nothing, the emptiness making you silently beg for something to fill you. “Christian,” you gasped, clawing at his hand around your throat. “Please. We’re gonna get caught.” He let out another humorless chuckle. “So?” he asked. “Don’t you want that? Want me?” He punctuated his question with another roll of his hips.
Before you could say anything, you heard a sound that made your heart sink.
“Y/N?” It was Daniel.
Christian, despite all his teasing, quickly let go of you and backed away as you hurried to fix yourself, straightening your dress, smoothing it down and shaking your head. Daniel wasn’t in your line of sight and you turned to Christian. “You need to stay away from me,” you murmured as you started to walk past him but stopped when he grabbed your arm.
“You know I can’t do that.”
Without answering him, you pulled your arm from his grip and started out of the secluded space you shared with him. Daniel was standing near the stern railing, looking over the ocean, turning only when you approached him. “Hey,” he said with a smile as you reached him. You caught him by surprise, reaching up to grab him by the back of the neck and pull him into a kiss.
You hope Christian was watching. You wanted him to see the truth. You loved Daniel. You were with Daniel. Pulling back, Daniel tried to follow your lips but instead settled for resting his forehead against yours. “What was that for?” he asked softly. “Just cause,” you answered, pressing a quick peck to his lips. Daniel smiled and pulled you tight against him in a warm, embracing hug.
When you glanced back to where Christian had been standing, you saw he’d left, clearly put off by your show. Hopefully it would be enough. Despite the rush of excitement you felt when he was pressed against you, the way he touched you, held you, it was all wrong.
You and Christian could never be anything more than step-siblings.
The ride back to the resort was quiet with you sitting in the middle seat, Emmy by your side and Daniel behind you. Christian had taken the seat behind your sister and kept his eyes to himself as he looked out the window at the passing scenery.
The walk back to the villa was also silent, the sun having set and darkness creeping in. Ahead of you was your dad and Kate, Emmy walking beside you and Daniel with Christian bringing up the rear. You were tempted to look back but you couldn’t. Not when it could give Christian hope. That was something you could not give him.
After saying goodnight, you and Daniel headed into your villa and you sighed as you removed your shoes, letting out a groan as your feet met the cool floor. Daniel carefully shut the sliding glass door and turned as you removed the shrug, leaving you in just your dress.
“You looked really nice tonight,” Daniel said as he followed you to the outdoor bathroom where you turned on the light and started removing your jewelry. He came up behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder as you finished removing your earrings. “So did you,” you replied, smiling at his reflection.
“I’m not the only one who noticed,” Daniel continued and you immediately knew where this was going. “Your step-brother really is something else,” he continued. “He was blatantly staring at you tonight.” You let out a sigh and turned to face him.
“I really didn’t notice,” you said softly, reaching up to take his face in your hands. “I don’t pay nearly as much attention to Christian as you do,” you continued in what was meant to be a joke only Daniel didn’t find humor in it.
“How can I not when he’s eye fucking you all the time now?” he asked and you sighed, pushing him back gently and moving into the villa. Daniel didn’t stop there and continued to follow you. “Daniel, please,” you pleaded. “I don’t want to talk about my step-brother,” you said as you tried to reach behind you to unzip your dress.
Daniel moved behind you to help. “It’s just so weird,” he continued.
You sighed. “Daniel,” you admonished but he didn’t stop. “Don’t you find it weird?” he asked, sliding the zipper down, and you nodded. “Of course I do,” you replied. “But I really don’t want to talk about this right now.” Daniel scoffed as you let your dress fall to a pile on the floor and changed into your pajamas.
“You never want to talk about this,” he said angrily. “Because it’s ridiculous!” you replied. “He’s my step-brother!” Daniel crossed his arms, glaring at you from the edge of the bed, still dressed in his clothes. “Yeah, your step-brother. He keeps making that distinction,” Daniel continued.
“Like if he wasn’t your step-brother he could be more,” he added, an unmistakable scowl on his face. “Well, he couldn’t,” you snapped. “Regardless of what ifs, he is still my step-brother and nothing will change that. I wish you would stop talking about this,” you added as you laid back and rolled onto your side, your back now to your boyfriend.
The tension in the room was thick and palpable as Daniel undressed in silence, his movements more noticeable in the quiet of the room. Finally, he joined you in the bed, throwing the covers over him and turning off his bedside lamp before he turned and faced away from you.
The next morning, you woke in silence, Daniel passed out beside you. Deciding to take a shower before the day started, you got up and headed out into the outdoor bathroom. The hot water felt good and worked to undo all the built up tension in your body as you attempted to wash away your worries.
After your shower, you pulled on the bathroom and went about your post-shower routine, skincare, body lotion, and the like before heading back into the villa to find Daniel was waking up. “Morning,” you said softly, testing the waters.
“Morning,” Daniel murmured, rubbing his eyes. “What time is it?” You glanced at the clock on the wall. “A little after 9 am,” you answered. “We’re supposed to be doing a cooking class here at the resort with my family,” you added. “So if you wanna shower, you might want to get up now.”
You turned away to start cleaning up, picking up some of the clothes you’d left on the floor. As you were starting to gather more items, you heard Daniel get up and could hear him moving around. As you moved to your suitcases to set the dirty items down, you felt Daniel come up behind you.
As his arms went around your waist, you stiffened under his touch briefly. Slowly, you started to relax into his embrace. “I’m sorry about last night,” he said softly. “I just don’t know how else to react. Your step-brother is really starting to piss me off.” You sighed, pulling from Daniel’s hold.
“Please, let’s not talk about this. I am so tired of all our conversations being about him. For once I’d like to not talk about my fucking step-brother!” you snapped, moving to grab the clothes you planned to wear for the day. Daniel scoffed and stormed off, slamming the door to the bathroom.
You quickly changed and did your makeup and finished picking up the villa and cleaning while Daniel was in the shower. When you were finishing up, he returned and started getting dressed. “I’m gonna go get some breakfast,” you announced. Daniel nodded wordlessly, a defeated feeling rising in your chest.
You grabbed your bag, making sure your gate key was inside before grabbing your phone from the bedside and heading out the door. As you opened the gate and stepped out onto the path, you ran into something hard and stumbled backwards.
A pair of hands caught you, preventing you from falling down. You looked up, seeing Christian and your heart skipped a beat. “You okay?” he asked as you stood up straight. “Yeah,” you said, nodding. Silence fell and Christian looked around. “Where’s your boyfriend?” he asked.
You hesitated before answering. “He’s still dressing,” you answered. “I’m going to grab something to eat before the class,” you added. The two of you stood there, staring at one another, an awkward silence building so you decided to stop it before it truly started.
“Look,” Christian started.
“Did you wanna join me?” you asked.
You both stopped. “Sorry,” he said softly. “What did you say?” he asked. You cleared your throat. “Do you want to join me for breakfast?” you asked, looking up at him. A smile slowly spread across his face before he nodded. “Yeah, alright.”
At the resort restaurant, you were shown to a table and given menus. Looking over the breakfast menu, you decided on jok with egg, sliced pork, and scallions while Christian picked khao tom and you split grilled pork skewers.
While you waited for your food, you stirred your tea while Christian took a sip of his coffee. You wrinkled your nose as you watched him. “Do you actually enjoy that?” you asked, prompting him to look up at you as he set his mug down.
“Enjoy what?” he asked as he rested his arms on the table in front of him, crossed. “Black coffee,” you said, nodding towards his mug as you set your teaspoon down. Christian chuckled while you took a sip of your tea. “No,” he finally answered, shaking his head. “I don’t. I prefer coffee with cream and sugar,” he continued. “But sometimes, we have to do things we don’t like to.”
You stared at him over the rim of your teacup before setting it back down on the saucer. “Is that some sort of profound wisdom you’ve decided to drop on me?” you asked, leaning back in your seat. Christian let out another laugh, turning his head to look at the empty table beside yours.
“Does it sound like wisdom?” he asked, turning his head back towards you, meeting your gaze. You shrugged silently. Christian laughed again. “I’m not really one to be spitting wisdom,” he continued. “Only facts.” You rolled your eyes, resisting the urge to smile.
“Oh shut up,” you said with a light laugh. “‘I only spit facts,’” you said, mimicking his voice. Christian joined in your laughter as the server approached your table with your food. “You’re such a dumbass,” you added after thanking the server. “Yeah but at least I’m charming,” he replied. You looked up from your bowl to see him smiling at you. “That’s debatable,” you retorted.
Silence settled over you as you ate. Christian started to chuckle, causing you to look up at him. “What?” you asked softly. He looked up to meet your gaze. “I was just thinking,” he said simply, going back to his food. You waited for him to continue and when he didn’t, you spoke up.
“Thinking about what?” you asked. Christian looked up at. “It’s nothing,” he started. “I was just wondering if this is what it would be like,” he continued. You tilted your head. “What ‘what’ would be like?” you asked. Christian stared point-blankly at you.
“What it would be like if we were dating.”
Your eyes widened, not entirely sure you just heard what he said. Christian noticed your lack of response and looked up to meet your gaze. “Oh come on,” he said, leaning in slightly. “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it,” he continued. “Especially after last night?”
You cleared your throat, shifting in your seat. “I hardly think this conversation is appropriate,” you said softly, setting your spoon down. “We’re in public.” Christian set his spoon down and looked up at you. “Should we go back to my villa?” he asked, tilting his head. “Talk about it there?”
Before you could answer, your phone buzzed in your bag and you quickly fished it out, checking the screen to see your dad was calling. You swiped the screen to answer, holding the device to your ear. “Hey, dad,” you said, glancing at Christian.
“Hi honey, where are you?” your dad asked. “The grill,” you answered as the server came by to bring your check. You watched as Christian pulled out his wallet and handed his card to the server. “We got breakfast,” you added as the server left to run Christian’s card.
“We?” your dad asked. “I ran into Christian as I was leaving the villa and asked if he wanted to get breakfast with me. We’re finished here so we can meet you for the class,” you continued as you watched Christian sign the slip the server brought back and put his card in his wallet.
“Okay, we’ll see you soon,” your father said and you hung up. “They ready for the class?” Christian asked. You nodded as you put your phone away. “Yeah,” you answered. “They’re waiting for us.” Christian nodded as you got up, following your lead. As you headed for the exit, he caught you, gently grabbing your arm and turning you to face him.
“I still want to talk about this,” he said, talking about your conversation before your dad called. “We really shouldn’t,” you said softly. “I’m your step-sister and I have a boyfriend,” you said under your breath.
“So you keep saying,” Christian said. “And yet we keep finding ourselves in …compromising positions,” he continued. You looked up at him, chest rising and falling with each heavy breath.
As you were about to respond, you heard someone calling out to you and turned to find your dad, Kate, Emmy, and Daniel waiting for you, your dad waving to you and Christian. You pulled from his grip and walked over, your step-brother following behind you.
“How was breakfast?” your dad asked as you joined them. “It was good,” you answered, noticing the way Daniel was looking from you to Christian and back. “Think you’ll have room for what we make today?” your dad asked jokingly. You forced a smile as you entered the waiting area.
When the instructor finally came to collect your group for the private class, you were relieved to not only be distracted for the next few hours but also get some space between yourself and Christian. Once inside the kitchen, your hopes of being paired with your dad or even your sister were dashed when the instructor paired your dad with Emmy, Daniel with Kate, leaving you to pair up with Christian.
The dish you were learning to make was a traditional Thai dish, pad see ew. After washing your hands and suiting up in an apron, you moved to your assigned station to listen to the instructor as the assistant set out the ingredients at each station. There was thinly sliced flank steak, wide rice noodles, garlic, and Chinese broccoli, several small dishes of portioned out sauces and spices, and eggs.
The first task was slicing the garlic and preparing the steak and broccoli. While you let Christian handle the knife, you decided to work on the steak, adding the dark soy sauce, vegetable oil, and cornstarch before mixing until it was well combined.
“You with a knife makes me nervous,” you joked as you set the beef aside and started to mix the oyster sauce, light soy sauce, more dark soy sauce, fish sauce, and white pepper into a small bowl, whisking them together. “And you with a whisk makes me nervous,” Christian joked.
You snorted as you continued to mix. “It’s a whisk,” you said plainly. “What can I do with a whisk?” you asked. He shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said softly. “Smack me with it?” You burst into laughter, immediately apologizing for your outburst.
Once the ingredients were ready, it was time to get cooking. You decided to take over, turning on the gas stove and setting the pot of water over the flame. Christian watched you work, putting the noodles into the boiling water and setting a timer.
You glanced over at Daniel and Kate who seemed to be deep in conversation as they worked together and you wondered what they were talking about. Over at your sister and father’s station, you could see that your dad was still just as hopeless, standing back as Emmy did most of the work.
After the noodles were done and strained, you had Christian toss them in a tablespoon of oil while you heated up the wok. Once it had been heated up, you added the beef, searing it until it was almost cooked before you had Christian assist you in moving it back to the bowl it had been marinating in.
Next you added the garlic and Chinese broccoli while Christian watched. “Why do you get to do all the cooking?” he asked, leaning on the counter to watch you work. You glanced at him before laughing. “Have you ever cooked with a wok?” you asked, not looking over as you didn’t want to take your attention away from the wok.
“No,” Christian answered. “I’d probably just burn everything, wouldn’t I?” he asked with an amused tone while you nodded with a smirk. “Add the noodles,” you said, nodding towards the wide rice noodles. Christian stood up and grabbed the bowl, dumping them into the wok while you moved them around. “Sauce,” you said, nodding at the bowl with the mixed sauce you’d made earlier.
Christian rolled his eyes, a smirk on his lips, as he grabbed the bowl and carefully tipped it into the wok while you stirred carefully. “Beef,” you said and Christian let out a chuckle as he grabbed the bowl and dumped the beef back into the wok while you stirred.
“You sound like a doctor,” he joked. “Nurse, scalpel.” You snorted and bumped him with your hip. “You’re dumb,” you said, shaking your head as you pushed the finished dish aside and nodding towards the eggs. “Crack those into the wok for me?” you asked.
Christian did as you asked, cracking the eggs one by one. You mixed them up, scrambling the eggs thoroughly before mixing everything up and continually stirring for a few minutes before the instructor came by to check.
“I think yours is done,” he said, looking into the wok. You removed the wok from the heat and carefully poured the mixture onto two plates while Christian turned off the stove. As you set the wok back on the burner to let it cool. Turning towards Christian, you could see that your dad and Emmy were nearly finished and Kate was close to finishing their own dish.
“Want to try it?” Christian asked and you turned to find him holding one of the plates and a pair of chopsticks. You nodded, moving closer so he could feed you the fruits of your combined labor. The flavor was savory and delicious. “Oh that’s good,” you said softly, nodding your head.
Christian took a bite, letting out a moan. “Oh, yeah,” he said, going in for another before nodding towards the other plate. “If you don’t eat it, I will,” he warned. “This is so good.” You rolled your eyes and grabbed the second plate and pair of chopsticks immediately taking a bite.
After enjoying the food, cleaning up was the next part and then you were free to go. You removed your apron, tossing it into the hamper and following your sister outside of the kitchen. It had been a fun filled afternoon and now you had plenty of time to relax before the motorbike tour later.
As you walked back to the villas, Daniel was silent and the tension from the morning was still there. As you reached the gated entry to your villa, Christian kept walking and you unlocked the gate to let yourself and Daniel into the yard. He let the gate shut behind him and followed you quietly to the villa.
Once inside, you expected him to go on ignoring you but what happened instead was a shock.
“What the fuck was that?” he asked loudly, causing you to turn to face him. “What was what?” you asked, looking around, expecting to see something weird but Daniel merely walked forward towards you. “Were you trying to piss me off?” he demanded, his voice rising in pitch. “What’re you—?”
“You were flirting with him!” Daniel said, his tone accusatory. ‘Flirting?’
You stared at him, lips parted in shock. “I was not! He’s my step-brother, Daniel! I wasn’t flirting with him!” Daniel growled in frustration and turned to walk around the bed towards his suitcase. “What are you doing?” you asked, turning to watch him. “Packing!” he shouted, the volume of his voice making you flinch. He’d never raised his voice with you before.
“Packing?” you asked. “Why?” You watched as he roughly shoved his things into his suitcase, not bothering to fold it properly. “Why do you think?” he snapped, moving to gather his things from the cabinet. “I’m leaving and catching the first flight home.”
You felt your heart sink into your stomach. “What?” you asked, your voice rising in panic. “I’m through with this,” Daniel snapped as she shoved his things into his suitcase and shut the lid, zipping it up hastily. “I’m sick of constantly second guessing our relationship because of whatever is going on between you and your step-brother,” he continued.
“Daniel, please.” you tried as you moved in front of him to stop him as he tried to exit the villa. “Can’t we just talk about this?!” Daniel pushed you off him. “No!” he shouted. “I’m done, Y/N! I can’t do this anymore!” he knocked you aside and exited the villa. “We’re through!”
“Daniel! You said as you followed him out into the yard towards the gate. “Daniel please, don’t leave!” He turned to look at you, a mixture of anger, disgust, and disappointment on his face. “Goodbye Y/N,” he said as he pulled open the gate and stepped out, disappearing from sight and your life.
It had been a few hours since the cooking class and Christian had spent the first hour lounging in the pool at his villa before showering and getting dressed for the motorbike tour. As he was leaving his villa, he noticed your dad and his mom standing outside, speaking in hushed tones. He shut the gate, announcing his presence to them.
“Christian,” your dad said as he approached. Christian looked between their faces, noticing the hint of worry. “What’s going on?” he asked, a sudden nervous feeling taking over him and he worried that something had happened to Emmy or even to you.
“There’s been a slight change in plans,” his mother said, her tone gentle. “Y/N won’t be coming with us.” Christian felt his heart skip a beat. “She’s not?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady. His mom shook her head, glancing at your dad with a look Christian couldn’t exactly decipher.
“Y/N’s…” your dad started but trailed off, glancing at Christian’s mom. “Daniel left,” Christian’s mom finally said, giving Christian a look. “He left?” Christian asked, an incredulous tone in his voice. His mom nodded. “He broke up with her and left.”
Deep inside, Christian was beyond excited but at the same time, he could only imagine how upset you must be feeling. He glanced toward your villa. “So she’s going to stay behind while we take the tour. Christian nodded slowly before he turned to look at your dad.
“Let me talk to her,” he offered. “Maybe I can talk her into coming.” Your dad grimaced. “If you can get her to agree, but don’t force her,” your dad said, to which Christian nodded. “Of course,” he said softly. “I’ll go check on her,” he added as Emmy exited her villa.
Christian stalked off, making his way to your gate and pushed the buzzer while your dad, Christian’s mom, and Emmy headed towards the lounge to wait while Christian spoke with you. He waited for a few minutes before pushing the buzzer again.
He pulled his phone out and unlocked the device, scrolling through his contacts until he found your name and pressed the call button, holding the phone up to his ear. While it rang, he tried the buzzer again. The call went to your voicemail and he hung up, dialing again while pressing the buzzer.
As the call went to voicemail again, Christian could hear footsteps from inside the gate and looked up as a crack in the gate formed and he caught sight of you. He felt his heart break into tiny pieces at the look on your face. Your eyes were red, cheeks tear-stained, and it was clear you’d been crying.
“What is it?” you asked, your voice hoarse. “I wanted to check on you,” Christian said softly. “Your dad told me what happened.” You sighed, less annoyed and more defeated. “Of course he did,” you said softly. Christian slipped his phone into his pocket. “Can I come in?” he asked.
You looked up at him for a moment before stepping back and opening the gate more, allowing him space to enter. Once inside, he gently shut the gate behind him as you started back towards the villa. Christian followed behind, glancing around the villa as he entered behind you.
All of Daniel’s things were gone and the villa looked a little empty. Christian watched as you walked over to the bed and sat on the edge, hands resting on your lap. He walked over as you let out a shaky breath, stopping in front of you and kneeling down.
“What happened?” he asked, reaching up to take your hand gently. When you pulled back, he couldn’t deny that it didn’t hurt but he understood. You were hurt and the last thing you were thinking of was moving on. He just wanted to be a source of comfort for you.
“We fought again,” you said, your voice low and shaky as you fought the urge to cry. “About what?” Christian asked, his voice soft. “What else?” you asked, shrugging your shoulders. Christian felt a pang of guilt, knowing that most likely the fight had been about how you and he interacted at the cooking class. “He just kept blaming you,” you added.
Christian fell silent, looking up at you as you tried to blink away the tears. He felt bad, he really did, and not because Daniel left but because it hurt you. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you. Taking a deep breath, he reached out again, taking your hand.
“I’m sorry,” he started, thankful you didn’t pull away this time. “I really am, but you deserve so much better than him,” he continued. You didn’t look at him as he spoke. “I know you really liked him, Y/N,” he added. “But Daniel wasn’t good enough for you. Trust me.”
You shrugged your shoulders weakly. “I guess,” you said softly. “But every single relationship I’ve had has failed. I can’t help but think there’s something wrong with me.” Christian’s grip on your hand tightened. “Look at me,” he said in a gentle but firm tone. Your eyes met his and despite the tears, he thought you looked absolutely stunning. He pushed those thoughts aside to address you.
“There is nothing wrong with you. Absolutely nothing. These guys have all been low hanging fruit. You deserve better than any of them. And when the right one comes along, you’ll know for a fact. You won’t have to guess cause you’ll know. And whoever it is, will treat you with the love, devotion, and respect you deserve.”
You stared at him for a moment longer before glancing back down. “You’re probably right,” you said softly. Christian leaned forward to try and meet your gaze. “Save your tears for someone who deserves them,” he said, giving your hand a gentle shake. “Your ex doesn’t deserve a single one.”
You quickly wiped your eyes and looked up, meeting Christian’s gaze once more. “Thanks,” you murmured, leaning along the edge of the bed to grab a tissue from the box and blow your nose. “Come on,” Christian said, getting up and moving towards the closet. “What are you doing?” you asked as he disappeared for a moment and returned with an outfit.
“Wash your face, put on these clothes and do your makeup if you want,” he continued as he set the clothes on the bed. “And then come outside. You’re going on that tour.” You looked up at him. “I don’t really want to ride around by myself,” you countered but Christian walked back over, taking your hand. “Emmy can drive herself. I got you,” he replied.
“Now get dressed.”
You weren’t sure how, but Christian did manage to cheer you up and talk you into joining them on the motorbike tour and as promised, he reluctantly told Emmy she’d have to drive herself as Christian was going to drive his and Y/N’s bike. Your sister was actually excited about this.
A van picked your family up right outside the resort and drove you to the meeting location, something your dad had paid extra for. Upon arriving, there was a safety briefing, itinerary discussion and then you were given your safety gear and shown to the bikes.
Bikes was a stretch and they were actually mopeds. Specifically Vespas. Yours was a very clean, very pretty light green color with a black seat meant for two riders. The helmets you wore were black with chin straps. Christian helped you onto the back before climbing on and starting the engine.
He followed behind Emmy who in turn followed your dad and Kate. The instructor led the group through down, down busy streets and winding out of the center of town until it started to open up and soon you were heading up into the mountains.
The roads were winding and curving but everyone took their time rounding the curves and being careful not to go too fast so as to not lose control. As you held onto Christian, you took the opportunity to look around at the scenery.
The first stop was a viewpoint just above the town. Stopping here, you took a few pictures of the view as well as pictures of your dad, stepmom, and sister. As you returned to Christian he had removed his helmet and was brushing his hair back.
“What? No picture of me?” he asked jokingly. You quickly raised your phone and snapped a candid picture of him, locking the screen and tucking your phone away in your bag. “I don’t even get to pose?” he asked with a laugh as you climbed onto the back of the scooter.
“Nope!” you chirped, resisting the urge to laugh as he put his helmet back on. “You’ll have to wait to see them and candid is better.” Christian jokingly revved the scooter as the instructor started to take off, leading your group further up the mountain.
At each stop, you got off, took pictures of the view, the area, your family, even taking a few self-portraits with your sister. At the very top of the mountain, the last stop before the descent, the instructor used your phone to snap a few pictures of the whole family.
Now that the descent was upon you, you could go at your own pace. Christian decided to hang back, going slow as you went down so you could get some aesthetic videos. As you were tucking your phone away, Christian called over his shoulder.
“Hold on,” he said. You quickly wrapped your arms around his torso and before you could say anything, he kicked the scooter into gear and started zooming down the mountain. You ducked your head, letting out a squeal at the rush. Christian let off the gas, laughing loudly.
“Did that scare ya?” he asked. You shook your head as you raised up, peering over his shoulder at the road ahead. You couldn’t see your family anymore and they were no doubt still ahead of you. “Let’s stop here,” Christian said as he slowed the scooter, pulling off to the side at one of the view points. He pushed the kickstand down with his foot and turned off the engine.
Undoing the strap of the helmet, you watched as Christian got up and removed his own helmet, hanging on one of the handles of the scooter. He held out his hand for you, helping you up. You set your own helmet on your seat and walked over to the guard rail, leaning against it as you looked over the town.
Christian joined you, a comfortable silence falling over you. The sun had started to set and you were starting to feel a lot better than you had earlier. You glanced over at your step-brother as he looked towards the sky, his hair blowing gently in the breeze.
“Why did you cut your hair?” you asked suddenly, drawing his attention. The last time you’d seen him was Christmas and back then he’d had longer hair that he sometimes pulled back into a ponytail or a small bun. When you saw him in the airport, his hair was still the same dark color but much shorter. He ran his fingers through it.
“I don’t know,” he finally answered. “Maybe I was tired of messing with it,” he replied. You reached up, combing through his hair. “I like it but I think I liked the long hair more,” you said as you started to pull away but Christian gently grabbed your wrist.
“Yeah?” he asked, tilting his head. Your cheeks started to burn under his gaze, your skin seared at his touch. It was starting to heat up your entire body, some of the heat settling in the pit of your stomach. “I thought about bleaching it all,” he continued and your eyes widened. “Don’t you dare,” you warned.
“You have such a pretty hair color,” you added as his eyes narrowed. “Not that I’m trying to tell you what to do,” you continued frantically. “Maybe the blond will look really good on you. I can’t be sure. I’ve never seen you with anything but this color.” Christian shook his head and pulled you closer, pulling your body into his. “You’re rambling,” he said, his hand moving to reach around, resting against the small of your back.
“Are you nervous?” he asked, resisting the urge to smirk. You could see him fighting it. “Do I make you nervous?” You swallowed the lump in your throat before shaking your head no. Christian snorted as he pulled you impossibly closer, rotating you so your back was against the guard rail.
You looked everywhere but his face, which he rectified by gently grabbing your chin and tilting your head back to meet your gaze. Your stomach fluttered as he studied your face. “Have you ever been this flustered?” he asked softly. “Around me, I mean.”
You shook your head again. Christian’s eyes dipped down to your lips as the tip of your tongue darted out to wet your lips. His gaze lingered before he finally looked back up into your eyes. Your breath caught in your throat as he leaned in slowly, his body pressing against yours and pushing you against the rail. You could feel his hot breath, a hint of something minty as it fanned across your face.
Your eyes fluttered shut in anticipation and just as you felt them ghost over yours, the loud sound of a motor broke the tension and Christian quickly pulled back, your eyes snapping open. You both turned to look at the bend of the road to see an older man on an old motorbike, riding past up the mountain.
As he rounded the bend and out of your sight, Christian turned to look at you, a look of relief on his face, matching exactly how you felt. The two of you broke into laughter before Christian suggested you return to the meeting place. “They’re probably waiting for us.”
The rest of the ride down was uneventful and soon you were pulling up to the meeting place where your dad, Kate, and Emmy were waiting. You returned the scooter and helmets to the instructor, thanking him for the experience and apologizing for taking so long to come back down, citing the beautiful views at sunset.
The taxi took you back to the hotel where you went to dinner at the on-site restaurant. You sat across from Emmy, Christian across from his mom and your dad next to her. As you sat there, eating and talking, you felt Christian’s hand brush against the side of your thigh, just above your knee.
It felt less inappropriate and more like a comforting check in. You glanced over at him and he leaned in to whisper in your ear. “Are you okay?” You pulled back and nodded, giving him a genuine but small smile. “What secrets are you two sharing?” you heard Kate ask suddenly.
You turned to look at her. “Nothing,” you replied quickly. “I was just asking if she’s okay,” Christian added. “After what happened today. I just wanted to make sure.” Your stepmother let out a soft “awww” which Emmy mimicked. “I’m actually getting kind of tired,” you continued. “I think I’m going to call it a night.”
“Are you sure?” your dad asked. “We were gonna grab some drinks after this at the bar.” You shook your head. “It’s fine. I’m not really feeling like drinking tonight. I’m just going to go to bed early. The scooter tour kinda took its toll on me. And after everything that’s happened today, I think I deserve some sleep.”
Your family nodded understandingly, wishing you a goodnight as you got up and grabbed your bag. Christian got up and followed. “You want me to walk you back?” he asked as you headed for the door. You turned your head to look at him. “No, that’s okay. Thank you though.”
“I can walk you, it’s no problem,” he continued but you declined again. “Go have a drink, spend some time with everyone. I’m really just going to take some Tylenol and pass out,” you said softly. Christian took your hand, turning it over to look at your palm. He looked as though he wanted to do something but thought better of it.
“If you’re sure,” he finally said, letting go of your hand. You nodded. “I’m sure.”
Your walk back to the villa was quiet and for once, you weren’t thinking about the disaster that happened after the cooking class. Instead, the only thing occupying your thoughts were your step-brother and how he went out of his way to cheer you up and take your mind off things.
It was a lot of fun, riding around on the scooter with him taking pictures of him and your family and then on the ride down, yet another interrupted kiss because of that old man on the motorbike. Not that you should be kissing Christian. He was your step-brother.
Only by legal or technical terms. He never really behaved like a brother towards you. For your entire life basically, he was everything but the kind, protective older brother figure that Emmy got from day one. To you, he was a stranger who came into your home and tormented you for years until he finally grew out of his bullying phase.
He became someone you could play around with, someone you could lightly tease, and even someone you could confide in. You’d come to enjoy his company, before dating your ex and even after. As an adult, seeing him at family get-togethers and holidays made you happy.
Christian made you happy.
Back in the villa, you undressed, took a quick shower and laid out your clothes for the next day. You were supposed to have a spa day with Kate and your sister so you picked out some comfortable clothes to wear to the spa and finished your night routine, finally turning off the lights and getting into the king size bed you now had all to yourself.
The next morning, you woke up when your alarm went off. It was a lazy day today, the last beach day before the flight home. You lazed around in the sheets, playing on your phone before finally getting up and getting ready for the day.
At the spa, you had massages, bath soaks, facials, and pedicures booked. It was a day for you, your step-mom, and Emmy to relax before the final trip home which you already knew were brutal. Your previous pedicure, you’d selected a nude pink color of your nails but this time, you decided on black, something you didn’t normally wear on your nails.
While you were in the spa, your dad and Christian were supposed to be taking a muay Thai boxing class. Daniel had been meant to join them but since he left the day before, it was just your dad and your step-brother.
As the pedicurist was rubbing lotion into your ankles and calves, your step-mom spoke up.
“How are you doing?” she asked softly, drawing your attention. Turning your head, you could see Emmy on the other side with her headphones on, eyes shut as she mouthed along to whatever song she was listening to. “I’m okay,” you answered. “I was initially really upset,” you continued.
“But Christian really helped cheer me up.”
Kate smiled at the mention of her son. “He really cares about you, you know,” she said as she turned her attention back to her own technician who was applying a coat of the deep red lacquer she’d picked out. “He was asking about you the week leading up to the trip.” You turned to look at her again.
“He was?” you asked. Kate nodded. “He kept asking if you were coming and if you were bringing your boyfriend. He was very interested,” she continued. “I don’t think Christian really liked Daniel,” she added, which made you almost snort. You knew christian didn’t like Daniel. He made that plain from the beginning. “Maybe Christian wasn’t so far off.”
You looked over as she covered her mouth. “I’m so sorry,” she said softly but you shook your head. “No, don’t apologize. I think Christian was right, too. None of these guys I’ve dated have been right for me and Christian could see that. I don’t know what kind of insight your son has, but he’s been right on the mark each and every time. Maybe he needs to play the lottery,” you joked, which made Kate chuckle.
“Maybe he does.”
After the spa, you returned to your villa and changed into your bikini, the last of the three you’d brought with you on the trip. It was a cute cow print one with a pink lining. The straps and ties were the same pink color. The cover for it was an oversized, white, loose knit sweater. The sandals were white and strappy.
You grabbed your beach bag with a couple towels, sunscreen, a hat, and a few other things and headed out to meet up with your family. Outside your gate, your sister and Christian were waiting for you. Looking around as you joined them, you wondered where your dad and Kate were.
Sensing what you were about to ask, Emmy spoke up.
“They wanted to stay behind. Time to themselves,” she said pointedly and you didn’t need to ask any further questions. The walk to the beach was mostly silent and upon arriving, you found a nice place to set up your chairs in the shade of the trees.
Emmy immediately removed her own swimsuit cover, asked for your assistance in applying the sunscreen before taking off and heading for the water, leaving you and Christian alone on the beach. It wasn’t a busy day today as it was really hot but in the shade, it wasn’t too bad.
You turned to Christian who was sitting in his chair, phone in hand as he scrolled through his feed. “Are you going to go down to the water?” you asked, drawing his attention from the device. “Are you?” he asked. You nodded, holding up the sunscreen. “Could you?” A smile spread across Christian’s face as he slipped his phone into a pocket on his chair and got up.
“Emmy left without helping you?” he asked. You nodded as you stood up and handed him the sunscreen before pulling off your cover. You tossed it down on your chair, your back to Christian so you couldn’t see the way his breath caught in his chest.
He let out a breath, popping open the cap and squeezing a generous amount of the white cream into his hand. He shut it with one hand, handing it to you over your shoulder. He rubbed his hands together, smearing the cream before starting to apply it across your shoulders and upper back.
His hands felt nice as he rubbed the sunscreen into your skin, hands moving down your back. Your eyes fluttered shut as he worked his hands over your back and sides. Your heart nearly stopped as his hands slid under the back strap of your bikini top, making sure to get all of your back.
His hands moved up to your shoulders, spreading what little remained on his palms as he slowly dragged his hands down your arms. “You feel like you’ve loosened up,” he commented, his voice low. “I suspect that’s the spa’s doing?” You nodded slowly as he rubbed the remnants of the sunscreen into your shoulders and base of your neck.
You leaned back against him, head resting on his shoulder. “Do you still need help?” he asked into your ear. “I probably shouldn’t,” you replied, voice just as low. “What would everyone think?” Christian chuckled as his hands moved to your hips.
He glanced up, towards the beach. “The only person who knows who we are to each other is busy helping a couple kids with a sand castle. No one else knows we’re step-siblings,” he continued in your ear, pressing a feather light kiss to your pulse point.
“Christian,” you whisper-yelled but made no attempt to move or pull away. “We could slip away right now and no one would be any wiser,” he murmured, lips against your skin. “Emmy might,” you countered. Christian glanced over once more. “She’s really preoccupied,” he replied.
Your eyes finally opened and you turned your head to look out where your sister was. She was indeed deep in helping two kids build a sand castle. “We can’t just leave Emmy here on her own,” you whined. Christian’s grip on your hips tightened and he pulled you back against him.
“You sure about that?” he asked in your ear. You bit back a moan as you felt something hard press against your ass. “We can’t,” you whispered. Your part of the beach was mostly empty save for a few chairs out in the sun a good fifteen to twenty feet in front of you.
“We could,” Christian countered. “Just grab a couple towels, slip into the trees,” he continued, one of his hands moving down to cup your ass, your body blocking what he was doing from view. “I could just undo these,” he added, tugging at the ties of your bikini bottoms.
“You can climb on top of me and I’m sure I’ll slide right in.” Your walls tightened, clenching around nothing. Your core was begging to be filled. The sex you’d had with Daniel before his sudden departure wasn’t awful. It wasn’t the best you’d had with him before, but you were left unsatisfied.
“Can’t you feel that?” he whispered, grinding against you. “How badly I want you. How badly I need you.” You choked back a moan as his hips bucked against you again. “We could slip away and I could bend you over, take you from behind.” Your knees threatened to give out but you soldiered through it.
“Not now,” you hissed, pulling from Christian’s grip and grabbed your cover to pull it on. Christian sat down, hoping to hide the obvious erection as Emmy started back towards your spot. Christian set his towel in his lap to hide the tent as you pulled on your cover.
“It’s so hot,” she complained as she sat down in her chair between yours and Christians, grabbing her water and chugging half the bottle. “Do you want to stay?” you asked. She turned to look at you, giving you an apologetic smile. “Would you be mad if I said no?”
You smiled and shook your head. “We can go back. There’s the pool and we also have pools at the villas,” you offered. Emmy nodded. “I think I’m just gonna veg out in my pool,” she said as she got up, pulling on her cover and starting to gather her things.
You finished gathering your things and made your way back to the resort. Emmy headed for her villa leaving you and Christian alone. You let yourself into your gated entry, Christian following. Not wanting to disturb your dad and Kate, you decided to store the chairs at your villa.
Once inside the villa, you dropped your stuff in the bathroom area, rinsed off and let Christian do the same as you wiped down your legs. As you walked into the villa, you turned to look at Christian. “I’m probably just gonna lounge in my pool,” you said, looking up at him.
“Is that an invitation or a dismissal?” Christian asked as you opened up the sliding door by the pool and quickly removed your cover, tossing it aside and stepping down into the pool. Christian followed as you backed away, sitting down in the water.
You watched as Christian stepped down, his eyes locked on yours as he approached. “We’re alone,” he said softly as he waded over. You nodded wordlessly. “We are,” you confirmed, your stomach fluttering at the realization that it was just after lunch time and there was no chance of anything interrupting you this time.
“Emmy is either lounging in her pool or in her villa. Who knows what dad and Kate are doing,” you continued as he stopped right in front of you, one of his hands moving to your side and pulling your body against his while the other moved up to your chin, tilting your head back.
“Nothing to stop us now,” Christian whispered, lips ghosting over yours. “Unless, of course, you don’t want to do this.” You looked up at him, eyes searching his. “We’ve been denied this too many times already,” you breathed. “Let’s not play this game anymore.”
Christian’s thumb brushed over your lip before he pulled you in, his lips finally meeting yours, muffling your gasp. His hand moved down to your waist, pulling you closer as his lips parted, your own following. The moment you felt his tongue slide into your mouth, you were certain you were done for.
Christian pulled back, backing towards the edge of the pool. “Come here,” he said softly as he sat down on the step, guiding you to straddle his lap, your knees on either side of his hips. Your hands rested on his shoulders, chest rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath.
“Do you want to stop?” he asked, reaching a hand up to cup the back of your neck. You shook your head, leaning in. “No,” you whispered before pressing your lips against his. Christian responded to you, his hands cupping the sides of your neck as your tongues met again. One of his hands slid down over your chest, cupping your breast over your swimsuit.
Your back arched, pressing into his touch as his lips trailed kisses down the side of your neck. Your hips rolled, grinding against him with a soft moan. Christian groaned against your skin. “Do that again,” he whispered into your ear. You moved again, grinding against his hard cock.
“Fuuuck,” he groaned, head falling back as you continued to roll and grind against him. “Let me take this off, please,” Christian muttered, fingers moving to the ties of your bikini top. “No,” you gasped, grabbing his hands, moving them instead to your hips. “Not yet.”
Christian let out a frustrated growl as he buried his face into your shoulder, his hips bucking up to match your movements. “Fuck, baby,” he moaned into your skin. “Just like that, keep going.” You let out a whimper, core aching to be filled as you chased your orgasm.
“Shit, I’m close,” you gasped.
The moment the words left your lips, Christian quickly stood, turning and laying you down on the floor of the villa. “What’re you—” you started to protest but Christian pressed a finger to your lips before kissing down your chest, his hands sliding down your sides to your hips where the ties of your bottoms were.
He gave two sharp tugs, undoing the bows and pulling the front of your swim bottoms down, letting them fall over the edge of the step and exposing your slick cunt. “Christian,” you whined as he grabbed your hips and lowered his face down level to your core.
“I just need a taste,” he said, not giving you a chance to respond as he spread your folds with his thumbs and went in, licking a slow wide strip over your clit and making you gasp, one of your hands knotting into his hair as he gave you another slow, deliberate lick, the tip of his tongue toying with your clit. “Oh god,” you moaned, back arching slightly.
“My name is Christian but I guess god works, too,” he joked before his lips wrapped around your clit, giving it a slight suck, making your hips buck. His tongue went back to work, circling your clit and dipping down to your entrance.
Your free hand moved to your chest, kneading your breast as Christian continued his assault on your swollen clit, nipping, licking, and sucking at the sensitive nub. “Oohh shit,” you gasped, thighs trying to squeeze around his head. Christian held them open as he made out with your pussy, your arousal coating his lips and chin.
“M’close,” you gasped, thighs shaking as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge, tongue moving with renewed vigor. “Christian!” you all but shrieked, your grip on his hair tightening, hips moving on their own as you grinded against his tongue. Just as you were about to climax, Christian pulled away, sliding two of his fingers into your sopping hole as he kissed up your stomach.
His fingers picked up where his tongue left off, two fingers buried knuckles deep while his thumb slowly circled your clit. With his free hand, he undid the top tie of your bikini top and pulled one side down, immediately taking your nipple in his mouth, tongue swirling around it as his fingers worked in and out of you.
“Fuck, fuck, oh shit,” you gasped, hips matching his pace as he worked you towards an orgasm. “M’gonna —” your words failed you as your walls clenched around his fingers. “I know,” he murmured against your skin. “Let go and cum for me, baby. Make a mess on my fingers.”
With his encouragement and lips around your nipple, you came undone, orgasm washing over you as your cunt spasmed around his fingers, a fresh gush of your juices spilling out of you as he guided you through your orgasm, thumb massaging circles against your clit.
“That’s it baby girl. Good girl. Keep it coming.”
His fingers never faltered and while helping you ride out your high, he coaxed you back up to another orgasm. This time, he swallowed your moans and cries with his tongue in your mouth, holding you down with his weight until you were whimpering and begging him to stop through kisses. He finally pulled his fingers from your spasming cunt, bringing them to his face and licking your essence off.
“Christian,” you whined, reaching for him by the waistband. “I want you.” He leaned over, a smile spreading over his face. “I know baby,” he said between kisses. “But not tonight. I don’t want to do too much at once.” You whined in protest as he chuckled and helped you with your swim bottoms, tying the sides back together.
“I know, I know,” he muttered as he leaned over, pressing a kiss to your lips. “But you need to shower and get dressed and I need to get changed. We’re supposed to be meeting our family for dinner,” he reminded you. Letting out a whine, you reluctantly propped yourself up.
“This sucks,” you groaned. Christian chuckled, leaning in and pressing another kiss to your lips. “I know,” he murmured. “But we have to.” He gave you another kiss before stepping up out of the pool. “I’m gonna go grab my stuff. Go take a shower and get dressed,” he added and then disappeared into the villa as you got up and stepped out of the pool.
As Christian emerged he stopped, dropping his sandals to put on and moved to where you were standing. “I’ll see you later, okay?” he said, his hand finding its way to the small of your back, pulling you in and kissing you again. “Okay,” you whispered when he finally pulled back to look at you.
“See you later.”
The following morning, you woke alone in bed and rolled over onto your back, staring at the ceiling as the events of yesterday replayed in your mind. Images of Christian with his head between your thighs, the feeling of his lips against yours, the way his fingers felt inside you as he coaxed you through more than one orgasm, and the expert way his tongue brought you to the edge all lingered.
It was wrong. He was your step-brother but like you had reasoned before, he never really felt like your brother. He’d always just felt like some stranger that moved in when your dad married Kate. And it’s not like you were blood relatives. You were siblings only by law and as weird as it might be to outsiders, there were things you felt for Christian that you couldn’t help anymore.
And you were done trying to shove those feelings down. Daniel had been one hundred percent right; your step-brother definitely had a thing for you but until your break up, you had no idea that you also had a thing for your step-brother. After your revelation yesterday, you now knew that no man could ever make you as happy as Christian could.
And no man ever would.
After getting up, taking a quick body shower and washing your face, you got dressed for the day, now glad you saved this outfit for the last day. Your plan had been to wear a nice set of lingerie under your clothes for Daniel but now that he was gone, you’d just wear it for Christian instead.
The set was a stunning pink with sheer mesh cups that had a darker pink floral design like vines around the top of the cups. The thong panties matched and were also sheer pink with the same darker pink floral lace around the waistband. It was a set you felt confident and sexy in.
Over it you wore a high waisted baby pink skirt that fell to the middle of your thigh, an off the shoulder white sweetheart top with ruching. With your outfit, you slipped on a pair of black shorts in case the wind decided to kick up, a pair of thigh high white socks and some pink suede booties with heels.
Your makeup was soft with lots of light pink. You knew that you might be playing a dangerous game dressing like this after your encounter with Christian but you really wanted a continuation of yesterday. Hopefully this would be enough to entice him to come to your villa after dinner.
Grabbing your small white crossbody and making sure your essentials, sunglasses, phone, wallet, lip gloss, and a small compact mirror were in there before grabbing a hat from your collection, sunscreen, and your gate key.
As you opened the gate, you saw that the only one waiting for you was Christian. He turned as the gate opened and you stepped out.
His eyes immediately started wandering your body, a dark look coming over his face as he drew closer as you shut the gate. “Hey,” you said breathlessly.
“Are you insane?” he whispered, glancing around. “You’re wearing a skirt to the pearl farm?” he asked. You glanced down at your outfit and back up, nodding. “I’m wearing shorts underneath,” you told him.
Christian’s eyes scanned downwards, lingering for a moment before coming back up to meet yours. “You have any idea how difficult you’re making it for me to keep my hands to myself right now?” he asked, backing you against the wall beside your gate. “Do you know how badly I want to drag you into your villa, rip those shorts off you, and bend you over the bed?”
Your heart skipped a beat as he leaned in, his hands on either side of your head as he caged you against the wall. “Did you have to wear thigh highs?” he asked, a teasingly pained sound in his voice. “Not that you would know but I am weak for thigh highs.” Your cheeks burned.
“Is that so?” you asked, tilting your head, pulling your bottom lip gently between your teeth. Christian reached up, cupping the side of your face, his thumb gently pulling your lip from between your teeth. “Is this you trying to seduce me?” he asked, leaning in closer. You giggled softly as his lips brushed against yours. “Cause it’s working,” he muttered before his lips enveloped yours.
“Let me guess,” he continued, pulling back slightly. “You’re wearing either nothing under this or a really nice set of lingerie, aren’t you?” he asked, pressing a light kiss to your lips. “I guess you’ll just have to find out later,” you replied. Christian’s head dropped and he let out a low groan.
“Fuck you’re going to be the death of me, baby.”
Before you could respond, you heard talking and laughing and Christian immediately pulled away as you pushed yourself off the wall just as your dad, Kate, and Emmy appeared from around the corner. “Oh, hope you haven’t been waiting long,” your dad said as they joined you and Christian. You both shook your heads. “Nope,” you replied.
“We’ve only been standing here for a few minutes,” Christian added, glancing at you. “Alright,” your dad said. “Let’s go get breakfast!” Your dad led the way to the resort restaurant where you grabbed a table and ordered breakfast. Afterwards, you left the resort, making the drive to the pearl farm.
The pearl farm was located some 40 kilometers from the resort near the most southeastern part of the island and took almost an hour to reach by car. In the car, you’d purposely chosen to sit in the back with Christian while Emmy sat in one of the middle seats and played her game with her headphones on while your dad and Kate chatted in the front, with music softly playing.
Christian had been scrolling on his phone while you were looking out the window, enjoying the scenery of the mountains as the car headed south. The mountains were home to thick, lush rainforests and winding mountain roads. Occasionally the forests would open up to stunning views of the ocean that stretched out to the horizon and beyond.
You were watching the sparkling blue water when you felt a light tap against your thigh and turned to find Christian holding his phone out for you. You glanced up at him before he nudged you again, offering his phone. Taking it from him, you checked the screen to see he’d opened his notes app and written something down there.
Christian: When we stop for gas, pretend like you have to go to the bathroom. I’ll go with you.
You glanced up at him and when you met his eye, he winked at you before taking his phone back, locking the screen and tucking it into his pocket. You weren’t entirely sure if your dad was even going to stop but just as Christian predicted, your dad turned off the road into a gas station.
Once the car rolled to a stop, you climbed to the middle, opened the door, and hopped out. “I have to use the restroom,” you announced to Kate who nodded. “I’ll come with you,” Christian said from the back and climbed out. “Wouldn’t want you to get lost,” he teased, giving you a playful shove.
The two of you walked towards the building where you obtained the key for the bathroom and walked around to the back where the single bathroom was. Christian stood behind you as you unlocked the door, pulling it open and stepping inside. After glancing around once more, Christian followed you into the bathroom, shutting the door and locking it.
The moment the lock was engaged, he turned and grabbed your hips, pushing you back towards the sink as his lips met yours in a heated, passionate exchange. Your back hit the sink and Christian easily lifted you onto the counter, his tongue slipping into your mouth.
Your hands tangled into his hair as his hands pushed your skirt up. “Let me see what you’re hiding,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to pull your shorts down your thighs and past your knees. He leaned back, glancing down at the pink mesh and lace and let out a low growl before diving back in for another kiss.
“I wish we had more time,” he mumbled against your lips. “I really want to bend you over this counter and fuck you from behind,” he continued. “Then do it,” you challenged. Christian growled in your ear, pulling you from the counter and spinning you around to face the mirror before he bent you over, rutting against your ass.
“Fuck I want you so bad,” he said, his voice low as he grinded into you. “But you deserve so much better than to be fucked in a gas station bathroom,” he said, meeting your gaze in the mirror. “No, not for our first time,” he continued, shaking his head. “The first time I fuck you, I want you spread out on my bed, completely naked and entirely at my mercy. I want to take my time with you.”
Your walls clenched around nothing and you whined, pushing back against him as he rutted against you again. “Fuck, if you keep doing that, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop,” he groaned, eyes fluttering shut as he continued to rut against you. Testing the waters, you decided to speak up.
“But it feels so big,” you said softly, ending in a low moan. “Wanna feel it deep inside me.” Christian’s resolve almost melted entirely as he dropped his head, looking down at where your mesh pink thong did nothing to cover your ass. “You could just pull my panties aside and slide right in.”
“Baby,” Christian warned. “Don’t tempt me.” You pushed back harder. “I really want you to fuck me, Christian. Want you to split me open and stuff me full of your cum.” Christian let out a groan, grinding harder against you. “M’gonna cum if you keep saying that shit.”
You pushed back again. “Wouldn’t you rather cum inside me?” you cooed. “Can’t,” Christian said, shaking his head. “Not yet. You deserve better.” Before you could say anything else, Christian’s movements halted and he took a step back, taking a deep breath.
You stood up straight and turned to look at him. “We’ve been gone long enough,” he said as he stepped back towards you, kneeling to grab your shorts which had fallen to your ankles and pulled them up, helping you adjust your skirt back over before he ran his fingers through his hair.
“Come on,” he said, a reluctant tone in his voice. “But your—” He shook his head. “I’ll make it. Come on,” he continued, beckoning you towards the door. You unlocked it and pulled it open slightly, peering out to make sure the coast was clear and stepped out, Christian following.
After returning the key to the attendant, you headed back to the car, joining Christian in the back again and then you were off to finish the drive to the pearl farm. Christian kept one of his hands on your thigh, out of sight from everyone else behind Emmy’s seat.
His hand was a constant reminder of what transpired in the bathroom and what was to come later that night if you played your cards right, though you suspected you didn’t need to do much more to entice Christian to give in when you returned to the resort.
When you reached the pearl farm, your dad found a place to park and from there you would have to walk to the farm which was on the beach. Thankfully, you’d looked the place up and saw that there were wooden walkways you’d be on and off the sand, so your footwear was appropriate.
The building was almost entirely open, allowing the breeze from the ocean to blow through. You walked around, watching the harvesting demonstration where they collected the pearls without killing the oysters and returned them to the water. Part of the farm was a shop where they sold pearls and locally made jewelry.
The demonstration was extremely informative and went through every step of the collection. After watching the demonstration for a few minutes, you decided to head over to the shop and take a look around. Inside, Emmy was looking at strings of pearls while Kate and your dad stayed outside to watch. Christian had entered the shop at some point and was looking around at the items for sale.
Deciding you didn’t really need a pearl necklace, you decided instead to head back out and enjoy the sea breeze, pulling out your phone to snap a few pictures of the water. As you were finishing up, your dad and Kate called you over. Emmy had rejoined them but Christian was nowhere to be seen.
“Where’s Christian?” your sister asked, looking around, prompting you and the rest of your family to start searching. “Oh, there he is,” Kate said and you turned around to see him exiting the shop, a small paper bag in his hand. He’d bought something. As he joined your group, you eyed him suspiciously but he feigned ignorance.
After finishing up at the farm, you headed back to the parking lot but instead of heading to the car, you headed to the restaurant near where you parked. It wasn’t super busy and you were able to get a table for lunch.
Christian sat across from you, keeping his hands to himself but his feet were another story. You tried to focus on the menu because everything looked and sounded amazing. As you were contemplating your choices, the server came to get your drink and appetizer orders.
You ordered water and decided to get the scallop with cheese appetizer which you ended up splitting with Emmy after she offered to split her deep fried spicy minced pork with you. For lunch, you ended up ordering the spaghetti with crab which was amazing.
After lunch, you loaded back into the car, sitting between Christian and the window behind Emmy again as your dad made the 40 minute drive to the mini golf place where you would spend the rest of the afternoon and evening as there was a place to eat on the premises.
To say you were bad at mini golf was an understatement. You spent a good portion of the day hitting the ball either too hard or at the wrong angle, much to the amusement of your family. It didn’t bother you that much. You’d never been good at mini golf so it’s not like it was a competitive thing for you. Emmy and your dad weren’t much better off but they were still better than you.
Christian was surprisingly good at it but when you saw Kate play, it all made sense. He got it from her. While trying to line up one of your shots, you hit the ball too hard and it merely bounced off the rim of the hole and rolled away. You let out a sigh and went after it. Christian was on the same hole as you and snickered, leaning his club against a nearby railing.
“Let me help you,” he said softly. A couple holes away, your dad was facing Kate and Emmy was on the next hole after them. Christian moved into position behind you, reaching around to grab your hands and reposition them on the club. “Hold the club like this,” he said, closing your hands around the handle.
“Now, turn,” he added, hands moving to your hips and turning you slightly. He then reached back around, grabbing the club over your hands. Your breath caught in your throat as your back pressed against his chest as he looked over your shoulder. “It should be lined up,” he said in your ear. “Just gently hit it. Don’t swing. Just bring your club back,” he instructed, guiding your movements.
“Take a deep breath and let gravity bring the club down and just tap the ball.” You did as he said, taking a deep breath and gently swung the club, tapping the ball. It rolled easily, right over the edge of the hole and dropped inside with a light clunk. “See?” Christian asked. “It’s easy.”
He let go of you and moved to grab his own club, turning back around and giving you a mischievous smirk as he walked over to his own ball and got into position. “My turn.” You watched as he easily guided the ball into the hole. “Onto the next,” he said nodding towards the next green where your balls were waiting having just popped out.
The rest of the day, Christian stayed with you, helping correct your form. Your game improved with his help and you couldn’t deny you didn’t like the way it felt when he was pressed up against you from behind, arms snug around you as he showed you how to hold your club and how to swing to get the best hit.
It was very informative and incredibly attractive.
As you were finishing up the course, the sun had started to set and it was getting close to dinner time. You returned your clubs as your family had finished for the day and made your way to the restaurant where your dad had already put in a reservation.
You were shown to your table and given menus which you immediately started looking over. Christian chose to sit between you and his mom, Emmy across from him and next to Kate. Looking over the menu, you saw there was a lot to choose from. Christian leaned over to whisper in your ear.
“You want to split an appetizer?” he asked. You glanced at him. “Or two?” You looked down at the menu. “What are you looking at?” you asked. “The spring rolls or the satay,” he answered, giving his menu a look over. “Let’s get the spring rolls and the wontons,” you suggested.
Christian nodded as he continued to look at the menu. “You want to split a salad?” he asked, looking up as you shook your head. “No salad,” he said with a smile and returned his gaze to his menu. “What are you getting for dinner?” he asked without looking up.
You shrugged as you read over the options. “I thought about either a burger or the pad se-iew. What about you?” you asked softly, not noticing how Emmy was watching the two of you. “I thought about the langos,” he answered.
“You two look cozy,” Emmy finally said, drawing both your attention. “You really seem to have bonded this trip,” your stepmom added. You glanced at Christian who shrugged. “I guess we have,” he said simply. “Would you rather we be bickering and fighting?” he asked to which Kate shook her head.
“Not at all,” she replied. “I’m glad to see the two of you have gotten so close. Makes up for all the shit you put her through when you were kids.”
Your jaw dropped, as did Christian’s. “You knew about that?” you asked, leaning forward to see past Christian. Kate smiled, turning her head to look at you. “Of course I knew,” she answered. “I noticed how you never wanted to be around Christian. Almost as if you dreaded it. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together. He was picking on you. I’d spoken to him about it and he denied it but I’m not a fool,” she continued. “I’m glad he finally grew out of that phase when he went to college.”
Christian glanced at you, grimacing. “Sorry about that,” he added. You narrowed your eyes. “You made my life hell,” you countered. “But I’m also glad you finally grew up.” Emmy snorted and you both turned to look at her. “Grew up? More like got his head out of his ass,” she chimed in, making you burst into laughter while Christian scowled. “Look, I was a cranky and hormonal teenager,” he argued.
“My life was changing really fast. I didn’t know how to process those emotions,” he continued. “But I figured it out eventually.” You shook your head, picking up your drink and taking a sip. “Finally,” you joked. Christian turned to glare playfully at you.
Under the table, you felt his hand on your thigh where your skirt ended. “Yeah,” he responded. “Finally.”
The rest of dinner passed by. You ended up splitting the spring rolls and wontons with Christian and ordered the pad se-iew while Christian ordered the salmon langos and also the skagen ones which you learned were prawn. Emmy ordered the salmon spaghetti while your dad and Kate ordered a couple pizzas to also split with the table.
After dinner, you ordered the Swedish pancakes with Emmy while Kate got some ice cream. Once the bill was paid, your lot headed back to the car and you climbed once more into the back with Christian. Emmy went back to her game and under the cover of dark, Christian’s hand was back on your thigh.
He pulled his phone out to shoot a quick text and you felt your phone buzz in your purse. Opening the bag, you pulled the device out and checked the notification. It was a text from Christian. You glanced at him and he merely smirked and looked away.
Opening your texts, your eyes widened at what you saw.
Christian: when we get back to the resort. Go to your villa, wait ten minutes, then come to mine
Christian: we’re going to finish what we started
Excitement flooded your body as you read over his texts again before responding.
You: what if I’m tired and want to sleep?
You hid your phone screen as the message went through and Christian opened his texts. He typed a response very quickly, pressing send and vibrating your phone. You checked it immediately, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.
Christian: don’t play with me baby.
Christian: Go to your villa, wait ten minutes and come to mine
Christian: you don’t want to know what would happen if I have to come to yours.
Christian: noises coming from your villa would be suspicious
Christian: noises coming from mine, however, wouldn’t be nearly as suspicious
You typed a response and hit send. Christian turned his phone over to read your reply.
You: how would it be suspicious coming from mine?
You: my ex left and maybe I brought some random guy back as a rebound?
You watched as Christian’s eyes narrowed.
Christian: you better not be bringing back random guys
Christian: you’re mine. I thought I made that perfectly clear
Christian: no other man is allowed to even look at you
Christian: I’m the only one allowed to touch you
Christian: to taste you
Christian: to be inside you
Christian: that pretty little cunt is mine and no one else is allowed to touch it
Christian: if you keep this up, I’m going to have to punish you
Christian: you want me to punish you, baby?
Christian: want me to bend you over my lap and spank you until your ass is red and sore?
Christian: and tease you until you beg me to stuff your tight pussy with my cock
Christian: is that what you want?
Your response was swift.
You: yes daddy
You could hear Christian’s breath hitch in his throat as he read your text, the hand on your thigh tightening as his fingers dug into your skin. He sent back a reply.
Christian: we’re almost back. ten minutes. then your ass is mine
You locked your screen and slipped your phone back into your purse while Christian put his back into his pocket, keeping his hand on your thigh. You could feel the heat radiating off him and his hand, sending a wave of heat coursing throughout your body.
The anticipation nearly sent you over the edge as the 30 minute ride seemed to drag on but soon, your dad was pulling back into the resort parking lot. You followed Emmy out of the car, Christian hopping out behind you. “Let’s call it an early night,” your dad announced. “We’ve got a long day of travel tomorrow.”
The walk back to the villas was mostly silent. You reached your gate first, calling goodnight to your family as you unlocked the gate and let yourself in, glancing back at Christian who was looking in your direction. You let the gate shut and headed to the villa to start packing up everything you wouldn’t need in the morning, making the most of those ten minutes.
When all but your toothbrush and toothpaste and the clothes you’d be wearing on the flight were packed, you grabbed your pajamas and keycard, turning off the lights in your villa and heading for the gate. Upon opening it, you peeked outside to check that the coast was clear and made your way over to Christian’s villa.
You were tempted to ring the bell but didn’t want to draw attention so instead, you knocked on the gate. From behind the gate, you heard footsteps and the gate opened quickly. Christian grabbed your wrist and tugged you inside while you stifled a giggle as he shut the gate behind you.
“Keep it down,” he admonished as he took your hand, dragging you towards the villa. Once inside, he slid the door shut, pulled the curtains down and turned to watch as you set your pajamas on one of the couches. “Shoes,” Christian said as he kicked his off. You carefully removed your boots, setting them aside and backed towards the bed as he advanced.
Once he reached you, one of his hands moved to the back of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss while the other smoothed down your side, darting under your skirt and pulled down one side of your shorts. The other hand moved to join and pulled your shorts down.
He broke the kiss long enough to pull your shorts down enough so they would just fall to the floor at your feet. “Get on the bed, back to me and bend over,” he instructed. You did as he asked, turning to face the bed before climbing onto it, knees spread as you bent over, your ass now on display.
Christian moved to stand behind you, hands bunching the fabric of your skirt up and pushing it past your ass. He let out a groan, running his hands over your ass. Temporarily, he left, moving to dim the overhead lights before returning.
“I want you to count,” he said softly, running his hand over your backside. “Count wha— ah!” you gasped as his hand made contact with your ass, a loud smack ringing out. “Count,” he demanded. “O-one,” you stuttered. You let out a cry as another smack followed.
“T-two.”
Christian continued, his hand hitting the same side ten times and smoothing over the area between spanks. “Halfway there,” he said softly. He repeated the same thing on the other side as you counted to twenty. Once he finished, your panties were fully soaked and your ass was raw.
“Good girl,” he murmured, smoothing his hands over your irritated skin. “Get up.” You carefully backed off the bed, holding onto the edge for support as your legs shook. “Face me and get on your knees.” You turned around slowly before lowering yourself to your knees.
“Open your mouth,” Christian said as his hands moved to undo his belt. Adrenaline pumped through you as you did what he asked, opening your mouth, letting your tongue hang out slightly while he undid his belt and pants. “Fuck,” he groaned. “Such a good girl,” he continued as he pushed his pants and underwear down enough to free his cock.
This was the first time you were seeing it and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t even more excited. It was just as big and thick as it had felt when he grinded against you. The shaft was slightly paler than the rest of his skin, the head was a dark red with a small bead of precum already leaking from the tip.
Your mouth started to salivate as he gave himself a few languid strokes. “Keep your mouth open,” he said as he guided the head towards your lips. “Breathe through your nose,” he added and you pulled back slightly to look up at him.
“I know how to give head,” you reminded him. “I’m not a virgin.” Christian rolled his eyes, his free hand moving to the back of your head to move you back into place. “Open,” he demanded, guiding the tip past your lips when you obliged.
You held still as he pushed more past your lips, letting out a sharp hiss as the weight of his cock rested against your tongue, filling your mouth until the tip was pressed against the back of your mouth. He was thicker than Daniel had been and you were already certain your jaw was going to be sore after this.
Christian let out a couple deep breaths before he started to guided your head. “Alright,” he said softly, stroking your hair. “Show me what you can do.”
You would make him regret those words as you took over, hands grabbing his hips and immediately starting to bob your head, each time letting his cock hit the back of your throat with a wet gagging sound. Christian let out a slew of curses as you continued, setting a steady pace.
It wasn’t the first time you’d given head and it wouldn’t be the last time. You pulled back, taking a moment to breathe while your hand worked his cock, stroking him at the same pace your mouth had been. His head fell back as he let out a groan and you gave the tip a light lick before taking the head into your mouth, your tongue swirling around it while your hand kept moving.
You weren’t sure how much time passed while you kept him teetering on the edge but you could tell he was getting closer and closer. Removing your hand, you took all of him back in your mouth, sinking his cock as far as it would go, the head slipping into throat.
Christian moaned out a curse as you swallowed around the head of his cock, it lodged in your throat. “Fuck baby,” he gasped. “M’gonna cum if you keep doing that.” He tried to pull you back but you swatted his hand away, swallowing again and urging him to thrust.
“You sure?” he asked. You pulled back slowly until his cock fell out of your mouth. “I can take it,” you told him. “Just fuck my throat.” Without another word, you took him back in your mouth until his cock entered your throat again and held still, allowing him to give you a shallow thrust.
He let out a gasp as your throat tightened around him. “God that feels fucking amazing,” he groaned, setting a slow pace, thrusting shallowly into your throat. You’d done this probably a hundred times for your ex and were accustomed to it. Christian was definitely thicker than Daniel had been but it wasn’t anything new for you.
Christian held your head carefully as he continued to thrust, his cock sliding into your throat with ease. The wet sounds of his cock in your mouth as well as his deep groans and breathy moans filled the room as he used your mouth and throat to get himself off. You could feel him shudder as his orgasm approached. “M’close,” he gasped.
“Where you want me to cum?” he asked. Instead of answering him, you tightened your grip on his bunched up jeans, pulling him closer. “In your mouth? Fuck you’re so hot,” he moaned as he started to chase his high, thrusting a little harder. His moans climbed in volume as his orgasm approached, culminating in one final low moan as his hips stilled for a moment.
When the first spurt hit the back of your throat, you pulled his hips closer, forcing his cock down your throat as he released, his hot cum spilling down your throat as his hips bucked through his climax until he finally fell still, gasping for air. You pulled back, his soft cock falling from your mouth.
Christian gathered his composure before he grabbed your hands and pulled you up and into a kiss, his hands working to undo your top and skirt and strip you down to your underwear. Once he discarded your clothes except for the socks and your lingerie, he pulled back to allow his eyes to wander.
“Oh fuck,” he murmured, his hand sliding down to cup your breast before wandering further still. “Did you wear this for me?” he asked, looking back up to meet your gaze. You nodded, a shy smile on your face. His eyes dipped back down, hands gliding over your breast. “You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he muttered, his thumbs brushing over your mesh and lace covered nipples that were still visible through the fabric.
“On the bed,” he murmured, pulling you in for another kiss. “Oh your back this time.”
You backed onto the bed, scooting back as he removed his shirt, tucking his cock back into his underwear but ridding himself of his pants and followed you onto the bed as you scooted back against the pillows. “I’m going to worship every inch of you,” he murmured, lips ghosting over yours.
“Kiss and taste everything. I won’t leave anything untouched,” he continued, kissing down the side of your neck. He pulled back, pulling you up so he could undo the clasp of your bra and pulled it off, tossing it aside before guiding you to lay back, resuming his kisses down your collar and between your breasts.
Your eyes fluttered shut as he took one of your nipples in his mouth, his other hand moving to knead the plush flesh of your other breast while his tongue swirled around the bud. You sighed, fingers combing through his hair as he suckled. “Christian — ah — I need you, please,” you whined. He pulled back, glancing up to meet your gaze.
“In a little bit, I promise,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your stomach as he moved further south. “Just let me make you feel good, baby,” he added as he reached the apex between your thighs. You let out a sigh as he left a trail of kisses down the inside of your thigh, sinking his teeth into your skin and making you giggle.
After repeating the same thing on the other thigh, he licked a slow strip up your cloth covered sex, tasting your arousal through the mesh. “Let’s take these off,” he murmured, sitting up to pull your panties down your legs and tossing them aside. He lowered himself down onto the mattress, spreading your legs and then your folds before he glanced up at you once more.
“I just need another taste.”
Christian had you at his mercy in a matter of minutes with his tongue alone but the moment he added two of his fingers, you were done for and came quickly, moans of his name slipping from between your lips along with a slew of curses. Christian couldn’t help but chuckle as he coaxed you through a further three orgasms before he was sure you were ready for his cock which was hard again.
Stripping himself of his underwear, he fished a condom out from the bedside table. You watched as he tore the packet open with his teeth, removing the condom and carefully rolled it on, discarding the wrapper as he moved between your thighs.
“This is the only time I’m going to ask you this,” he started as he looked down at you. “Are you sure you want to do this?” You looked up at him, pushing yourself up to grab him by the back of his neck and pulled him into a kiss. “Yes,” you mumbled against his lips. “I want this. I want you.”
Christian hooked his arms under the backs of your knees as you laid back down and tugged you towards him until your ass was resting on his thighs. He took his cock in one hand, resting it against your cunt. “No going back now,” he said as he guided the head to your entrance and carefully pushed the tip in. You let out a gasp, feeling his cock start to glide in, filling your hole.
Inch by inch, he pushed into you until his cock was buried deep inside, stretching your walls and throbbing. You let out a shuddering breath as he stilled, your walls spasming around him. “Relax baby,” he sighed, his eyes shutting as he focused on the feeling of your tight walls closing around his cock.
“Deep breath,” he added. You did as he instructed, taking a deep breath and letting it out. As you did, he gave you a thrust, driving his cock back inside you. “F-fuck,” you gasped, fingers digging into the sheets under you as he set a slow but steady pace. “F-feels so good,” you moaned, back arching off the mattress.
Christian responded with his own moan as his hands moved to the backs of your thighs, pushing them against you as he leaned over, the new angle making you groan as he thrust deeper into you. “How’s that?” he asked breathlessly as your other hand gripped the pillow by your head.
“Oh fuck, Christian,” you gasped as he pounded into you, the wet sound of your cunt and the smacking of skin on skin filling the room. “Harder,” you gasped out. Christian let out a breathy laugh as he obliged, thrusting harder into you and making you cry out in pleasure. “Oh god, yes, right there!”
Christian growled as he slammed into you. “Such a greedy little cunt you have,” he grunted. “Taking my cock so well like you were made for it.” You mewled in response, walls clenching around his cock as he repeatedly thrust into you.
“Chr-Christian,” you gasped. “Choke me.” You heard him let out another breathless chuckle. “Fuck, you’re really nasty, aren’t you?” he asked but obliged, his fingers closing around your throat, squeezing against your pulse points but not crushing. Your head started to swim as he kept thrusting, fucking you harder like you asked.
Dizziness started to take over and when you tapped his forearm, he released your neck and you gasped as the blood went rushing to your head at the same time you came with a cry, thighs shaking and body shuddering under him. “That’s it baby,” Christian groaned, urging you through your high. “Good girl. Make a mess for me.” You whimpered as you felt his thumb over your clit, massaging and flicking it until you were coming undone for a second time.
“Good girl,” he cooed. “Good, baby.” You moaned as you came down from your high, blinking back tears. “Hey, hey,” he said gently, leaning over to wipe the tears away. “Are you okay?” he asked. You nodded. “Feels so good,” you said, your voice thick. Christian pressed a kiss to your forehead.
You whined in protest as he pulled out of you. “Roll over for me,” he instructed, grabbing a couple pillows to put under your hips as you did, propping your ass up. “Christian,” you called out as he was about to reenter you from behind. “Yes baby?” he whispered, leaning over your back to press a kiss to your shoulder.
“I want you to come inside.”
Your admission caught him off guard. You wanted him to do what? “Baby,” he started, his voice low. “Is that a good idea?” he asked. “I’m on birth control,” you replied. “And Daniel never did. We always used condoms.” Christian looked down at his cock, the condom coated in your release. He took a deep breath as he weighed his options.
“Please,” you begged. “I really wanna feel all of you. I want you to fill me up and breed me.” His resolve melted almost instantly and without another word, he pulled the condom off and guided the tip to your dripping entrance. Pushing into you unrestrained felt better than words could describe. With the condom, you felt amazing but this? This was beyond words.
Christian choked out a moan as he buried himself to the hilt inside you, feeling every inch of you. On your end, you were going through the same thing. The feeling was indescribable. You could feel every ridge and vein of his cock throbbing inside your velvety walls.
It was enough to almost tip you over the edge.
When he started moving, his hands moving to grip your waist, you were putty in his hands. He could do whatever he wanted and you’d let him. You’d even let him fuck your ass. His cock felt so good and you wanted him to fill every hole you had. Christian resumed the same heavy, deep pace from before, thrusting into you hard like you wanted.
Every thrust knocked the breath out of your lungs and left you begging breathlessly for more. Your fingers dug into the sheets, the bed under you two now a mess, the sheets tangled, pillows thrown aside or stacked under your hips to keep them level with his. Each thrust had you gasping and moaning, drool starting to drip from your bottom lip and onto the sheets.
“Fuck,” Christian groaned, burying his cock inside you and stilling as he tried to stave off his orgasm. He wanted this to last as long as possible. “You feel so good,” he said, his voice low. “Fuck me harder,” you moaned. “Are you sure?” Christian asked. “Yes, god, please daddy. Fuck me harder please.”
Hearing the word actually leave your lips and having you call him that in this setting set off something primal deep inside Christian and he gave into your demands immediately, grabbing your hips and pulling you back to match his movements as he thrusted hard into you, pounding into you. You let out a scream of pleasure, feeling his cock ram into your walls.
Christian quickly covered your mouth as he continued to ram into you, muffling your cries and screams of both pleasure and pain. “You’re gonna get us caught,” he grunted, sweat rolling down his brow. “As much as I love the sounds, you need to keep it down. Moaning is one thing but screaming. Fucking hell, baby,” he growled as he felt your teeth sink into his palm.
“You wanna play that game?” he asked in your ear, pulling his hand away and pushing your head down into the sheets to muffle your screams and he continued to ram into you with deep, powerful strokes.
You tried to fight and push yourself up but he kept you down, putting his weight on you as he continued to fuck you hard. You cried out in pain, muffled by the sheets, as you felt him bite down into your shoulder.
“You like that?” he grunted. “You deranged little slut? Biting me like a wild animal. I’ll treat you like an animal if that’s what you want,” he continued. “Fuck you into submission.”
You cried out as his hand landed on your ass, the slap ringing out. “Behave,” he hissed. You tried to push yourself up again. “Fuck you,” you hissed. “Fuck me?” Christian asked. “Don’t ask for it if you can’t take it, baby,” he added.
He grabbed your arms, pulling them behind your back and holding your wrists together as he continued to plow into you. “You asked me to breed you,” he grunted. “So let me do that. I’ll fill you to the fucking brim. Make you keep all of it inside you.” You moaned, sheets muffling all sounds as Christian rammed into you from behind chasing his orgasm.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he growled as you fell over the edge, coming with a scream that sounded something like ‘fuck.’ Letting go of your wrists, he reached around to grab your throat from the front and lifted your head. “Fuck me please, daddy,” you groaned, chanting your pleas over and over.
“Cum inside me please. I want you to fill me up. I can take it.”
Christian groaned, burying his face into your shoulder briefly before raising his head as his hips continued to chase his orgasm. “I know you can take it, baby. Such a good girl for me. Taking daddy’s cock so well. You’ll take everything I give you, won’t you? Like a good girl.”
You nodded, your pleas and whines turning into incoherent babbles as he rammed into you, feeling the first wave of his climax washing over him. “Oh shit, I’m gonna cum. Gonna fill this tight hole. You gonna take it all, baby?” You nodded fervently, gasping and pleading for him to give you everything.
You cried out as you came a final time, Christian falling over the edge with you as thick ropes of his sticky seed painted your walls, pumping and emptying himself into your cunt with erratic and feverish thrusts as he moaned into your ear with each movement.
“Shit, baby,” he groaned. “So fucking good for me.”
As his hips finally stilled, you could feel some of his cum starting to spill out, sliding down the inside of your thighs slowly, turning thick and sticky in the air conditioned room. You would definitely need a shower before tomorrow morning.
Christian carefully pulled his now soft and sensitive cock out of you, more of his cum dripping down onto the sheets. He couldn’t care less and you would sleep under them anyway. He carefully climbed off the bed, disappearing into the outdoor bathroom area.
When he returned, he had a warm, wet washcloth and started wiping the inside of your thighs and sensitive parts before he helped you into your pajamas and pulled back the covers, pulling them back over you before he cleaned himself up and pulled on a pair of sweats.
Once he was done, he turned the lights off and climbed into the bed with you, smiling as you cuddled into him, allowing him to wrap his arms around you. Silence fell over the two of you as you rested your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat slowly return to normal.
“Christian,” you finally said, breaking the silence. “Yes, baby?” he replied. “What are we going to do?” Christian fell silent as he contemplated. He’d been wondering the same thing himself. There was no going back now, not that he wanted to, but there were still some challenges that lay ahead of you. He wanted you in every single way, emotionally and sexually.
He had no doubt in his feelings for and towards you. He knew you felt something towards him as well and after tonight, you would have to have a discussion about where you wanted to go from here. He was willing to fight for your relationship if it came to it. He knew a lot of your friends and family would probably be disgusted but he really didn’t care.
“I don’t know, baby.” he said softly. “We’ll just have to play it by ear. And I think we should have a talk when we get home about what we wanna do and where we want this to go.” You nodded, letting out a sigh. Silence fell again before you broke it once more.
“I’m willing to fight for this if you are.”
Christian smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Of course I’d fight for you, baby. You’re mine and no one can take you away from me,” he said softly. “Not even your dad. I will fight for us everyday for the rest of my life if I have to.” You snuggled closer, arms tightening around him.
“I love you.”
It was so soft that he almost didn’t hear it but he did and had he not been comfortable in bed, his arms holding you tightly, he’d probably be jumping for joy and punching the air but he would have to settle for doing so in his head.
“I love you, too, Y/N.”
He knew it wasn’t his fault he fell in love with you. He knew you couldn’t control who you fell in love with but he also knew that this was a taboo subject and that from here on out it would be an uphill battle. But for you, he’d do anything. He’d climb a mountain and slay the dragon if that meant he got to spent the rest of his life openly loving you.
You were worth all the potential fights and arguments. You were worth the risk of never seeing or talking to his family again. He loved you more than anything and he would love you until the day he died.
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