✧ characters: Valarr Targaryen x Cousin!Reader, Aerion Targaryen x Twin!Reader (voyerism) probably ooc
✧ summary: Aerion Targaryen has had a terrible day, and there is only one person in this world who can quiet the noise in his head. He goes looking for you. What he finds instead is Valarr, perfect, insufferable Valarr — and a version of himself he does not recognise and cannot look away from.
✧ wc: 2.1k
✧ warnings: 18+ MDNI !!!! voyeurism, exhibition, rough sex, power dynamics, dom/sub if you squint, targcest
✧ a/n: This was inspired https://www.tumblr.com/lady-lauren/663589844364214272/private-affairs-pairing-erwin-x-reader-x by @lady-lauren I just had to do something for Aerion and Valarr. Thank you all so much for your comments, reblogs, and likes.
The Red Keep at night was a different creature entirely.
By day it hummed with the buzz of courtiers and servants, a flurry of silken gowns and hurried footsteps against cold stone floors. The air was thick. But past the midnight bell, the corridors stretched out in a labyrinth of silence. The only sounds, the distant faint crackle of torches burning low in their sconces. Shadows danced between tapestries and the air was cool and still. Most of the keep had retired hours ago, the feast over, the cups drained, the old men snoring in their chambers.
Aerion however found no solace in his chambers. His thoughts bitter and relentless hounded him, punctuated by the irritation that festered since the feast’s second course. Valarr's face kept surfacing. That easy, unassuming smile. The way their grandfather's eyes had warmed looking at him, the magnetic pull he exerted on the guests. . As if Valarr were the sun, and Aerion merely a distant planet, cold and alone. He exhaled sharply though his nose, turning down the corridor. There was only one person who could soothe this turmoil, his twin, his other half, his dragon. She knew him, truly knew him without the cloak of “monster: the court draped over him. She was his sanctuary, his peace, and he needed her desperately. . Her door was ajar, a thin line of firelight spilling into the corridor. Relief washed over him, swiftly replaced by a chill as a man’s voice echoed from within. He recognized this voice. He hated this voice. Valarr. His low, unhurried tone grated on Aerion igniting his rage. He should burst in, what business could Valarr have with her? But a sound stayed his hand, a moan, soft and intimate. HHe pressed against the wall, angling towards the gap. The scene burned into his eyes. You, his perfect sister, his confidante, entwined with Valarr, the bane of his existence. Your silver-gold hair cascaded down, catching the firelight as your naked form moved in sync with Valarr’s. You had done this before. You sat on the edge of the bed, your legs wrapped around his waist, hands in his hair, mouths locked in a passionate kiss. Aerion had dreamed of kissing you like that.
“Gods, I missed you” Valarr murmurs, pressing kisses along your jaw.
“I need you” you whined in a voice that made Aerion’s fist clench and his cock twitch. Your lips pressed perfectly against Valarr’s a dance of familiarity and longing.
Betrayal hot and bitter welled up within him.
His breath grew heavy, a cough lodged in his throat. He couldn’t look away, frozen in this torment, desire? His eyes catch where Valarr’s strong hands grip the naked fat of your ass, pulling you impossibly closer. Aerion’s own hands slipped lower, not to his dagger,though he thinks he should kill Valarr for defiling you like this, for touching what belongs to Aerion. No, Aerion’s hand goes to the hard strain in his breeches. He frees himself quickly and quietly, loathing the heat coursing through him. His cock feels hot, blood molten under his silken skin, the alive feeling of it as the vein throbs with humiliating need. Disgusting. He is disgusting.
Aerion can’t focus on just one of you. Your arms wind around Valarr’s neck, your hands tracing the back of his broad shoulders. His shadow falls over you, dark hair against his forehead, arms flexing as they move you, touch you, feel you in all the ways Aerion has dreamed of. He notes the way Valarr’s throat moves as he lets out a low groan, the sound going straight to Aerion’s twitching cock and your already dripping core. Aerion doesn’t miss how your hips rock against Valarr’s front, desperately seeking friction. He has imagined you like this many nights, cheeks flushed, skin lightly glistening with sweat, your full lips swollen from kissing. You are a vision. Valarr seems hungry, powerful next to you; he is a dragon.
Aerion is sick. He watches as Valarr lays you down, cups your breasts, and engulfs one in his mouth. He sucks, bites, licks, and teases, eliciting the sweetest sounds from you before moving to your other breast, showing it the same level of attention. His hands travel to your thighs, gently spreading them even further apart, his hand briefly brushing past your needy core. You let out a shaky moan that leaves Aerion light-headed. What sounds would you make for him? What would Valarr’s hands feel like on him?
“The Gods couldn’t paint a picture prettier than you, my heart. So wet and needy for me,” Valarr murmurs, his voice a low rumble.
You whimper, pleading and Valarr chuckles, his tongue licking a tentative stripe through your folds.
You gasp, “I have thought about you all day.”
“Oh? What were you thinking of? My tongue?” He licks your inner thigh. “My fingers?” He grips your thighs harder "Something else?” he teases
“Please” is all you can manage
Valarr chuckles, “Who am I to deny the princess her wishes” he asks , leaning in to finally lick you properly. His tongue explores from your sensitive bud to your wanting hole. Aerion watches, jaw slack as his hand moves up and down his own length, his mind a whirlwind of conflict. He hates Valarr, hates him for having everything, for having you. Yet, he couldn’t deny the beauty in Valarr’s worship of you. The sight of his cousin, on his knees before you. Straight nose nudges your bud, his tongue fucking into you. Aerion wonders what you must taste like on Valarr’s lips. He wants to lick your wetness from his lips. Each of your moans rips through Aerion’s body. He studies how you throw your head back, how the rings on your slender fingers gleam in the light as your fingers tangle in Valarr’s hair, how you roll and buck your hips, toes curling as Valarr drives you ever closer to your pleasure. He can see Valarr’s cock straining, thick and proud, the tip gleaming with need. It’s beautiful. His own fist tightens as his mind wonders how Valarr would feel in his hand before a particularly loud plea from you catches his ear. You’re a pleading, moaning mess, writhing on the bed as Valarr’s tongue delves deeper into you. Aerion almost cums on the spot as he watches your orgasm crash over you. Valarr doesn’t stop; his thick fingers continue drawing out your pleasure.
Aerion takes a step closer, his cock aching, his mind a blur of jealousy and lust. Valarr rises, his face slick with your arousal, his fingers still in between your thighs. “Greedy girl, you're still not satisfied?” Valarr pulls his fingers out of you, licking the sweetness of his fingers, releasing them with a pop. “Delicious.”
He grips your jaw and kisses you, hard and brutal, his grip unyielding.
“I want to cum on your cock, my prince.”
So you shall”.
Aerion lets out a soft whimper. Fuck. If anyone could see him now. Cowering in the dark, jerking himself to the sight. Pathetic indeed. He is covered in sweat, hair sticking to his forehead as his other hand pumps his red, angry, weeping cock.
Valarr’s grip on your jaw doesn’t let up, forcing you to keep your eyes on him.
“Open princess,” and you obey, sticking out your tongue for Valarr to lick before spitting in your mouth. You swallow.
“Blood of my blood, you take orders so well”
Aerion watches intently as Valarr lines up with your entrance.
“I’m going to give you everything you need” He promises
“I need you, need you deep, hard, please please”.
Aerion wishes it was him, which one, he doesn’t even care anymore. Valarr pushes in with one swift thrust and your eyes roll to the back of your head, mouth open in a silent moan as your stretch to accommodate Valarr’s impressive length and girth.
“Fuck, fuck, so tight!” Valarr groans
Aerion deserves this, he has denied himself too long, it would be wrong of him to look away from this gift the gods have bestowed just for him.
Valarr sets a punishing pace from the start, pounding into you in a way that makes Aerion dizzy. The slapping sound of skin against skin paired with your moans, is the most beautiful sound Aerion has ever heard. You suck him in, over and over, nails scratching down his back, leaving red marks. The fat of your thighs ripples, your breasts bounce, and you are dazed. Babbling nonsense as Valarr continues his rhythm. You look like you were made for each other, and Aerion loves it.
Aerion fists his own cock at the pace Valarr pounds into you, imagining it was him fucking you, using you like a whore, he wishes it was his cock trapped in the velvety walls of what surely must be the sweetest cunt in the seven kingdoms. The power of those thrusts, the ecstacy written across your face. Gods.
“Fuck, Fuck, Fuck!” Valarr grunts, “You take me so well”
A string of nonsensical moans and pleas is all you can manage. Aerion couldn’t have imagined anything better than this until Valarr's hands lock under your knees, pushing them to your chest. He places one foot on top of the bed and angles himself to hit even deeper. You scream, and from this angle, Aerion can see Valarr’s glorious cock as it plunges into you. Heavy balls slapping your ass.
“Is this what you wanted?” he demands
“Yes! YES! So good Valarr!”
Would you scream that way for him, for your twin? Aerion feels he must be going mad, furiously pumping his abused cock. He’s so close, he's going to cum harder than he ever has at the sight of his cousin pounding your wanting, needy body. He’s wrecked, pants around his ankles. “Fuck me,” he thinks.
“That’s it. Cum on your dragon’s cock, take what you need”
Tears threaten to spill from your eyes, the pleasure overwhelming. Aerion’s balls tighten, as he wonders what you must look like through Valarr’s eyes, what Valarr must look like through yours. Do his mismatched eyes glisten? Is there a rosy flush to his cheeks? Valarr groans as he continues. You cum. Hard, screaming, babbling, and he fucks you though it, swearing as your walls contract around him. You turn your head, bleary eyes facing the crack in the door, you don’t see him, but Aerion thinks you do and that is enough to push him over the edge. Aerion comes undone, coating his fist and the stone with hot ropes of his cum just as Valarr’s hips push into your deepest point. His cockhead pressed against your cervix, as he releases inside of you.
Valarr leans and kisses you, this time tender, filled with adoration. For a moment there is no sound other than the two of you catching your breath. Your lover slowly pulls himself out of you. His fingers pushing his escaping seed back in, you whimper, everything sensitive.
“Aerion,” Valarr’s commanding voice cuts through the haze, “Enter”
His eyes turn from your folds around his fingers to the door. Aerion is filled with rage, hot and bitter. What sick game is this?!
You sit up, eyes wide.
“I will not ask again cousin”.
Valarr presses another soft kiss to your lips, his free hand cupping your cheek as Aerion pushes the door open. He steps out of his pants, cock hardening despite his shame.
“On your knees” Valarr commands,
A jolt of electricity runs through you and Aerion both. You watch your twin sink to his knees and crawl in obedience. He, the dragon reborn, reduced to this. Valarr’s fingers leave you, his seed following. He steps closer to Aerion, his cock still hard, bobbing dangerously close to Aerion’s face. He grips the platinum locks, tilting his face up to look at him properly. Valarr’s lips ghost over Aerion’s. It takes everything Aerion has not to moan; he wants those lips on him. He wants your lips on him. Valarr pulls on Aerion’s hair, directing him to look at you sitting on the edge of the bed, your knees up, legs spread, cum pooled in your folds.
Pairings: Sam x Reader, Dean x Reader (fake) (no Wincest) (one “see” the other having sex)
Summary: After a witch hunt gone wrong, Sam goes mad with rage. Accusing Dean of sleeping with his girlfriend. Can they save him before he goes insane?
Warnings: SMUT, rough sex, false visions, “cheating”, spells, emotional manipulation, emotional distress, taunting, forced to watch?, normal spn violence
Also any mistakes are my own, please do not repost my work anywhere however reblogs are fine and welcome :)
If you love it, please comment and/or reblog. Let me know your thoughts! :)
**IF YOU DON’T LIKE IT DON’T READ IT**
The Impala’s tires crunched over gravel as Dean pulled into the parking lot of a run‑down roadside motel. Neon lights flickered overhead, casting a sickly glow across the cracked pavement.
Dean killed the engine and leaned back with a sigh. “Welcome to scenic Ohio. Population: cornfields, bad diners, and apparently one psycho witch.”
Sam rubbed his temples, exhaustion already creeping in. “She’s targeting couples. Every victim so far was found drained of blood, with signs of ritual magic nearby.”
You shifted in the backseat, your duffel bag pressed against your knees. “So she feeds on love, twists it, then kills them. That’s… comforting.”
Dean smirked. “Guess that makes you two prime bait.”
Sam shot him a sharp look. “Not funny, Dean.”
Dean raised his hands in mock surrender. “Relax, Sammy. Just saying — she’s gonna notice you two.”
Sam’s jaw tightened, protective instinct flaring. He reached back, brushing his fingers against yours. “We’ll handle it.”
---
The abandoned farmhouse loomed against the night sky, its roof sagging, its windows boarded. Inside, the air was damp and heavy, thick with the smell of mildew and candle smoke. Sigils scrawled in blood covered the walls, their shapes jagged and unsettling.
Dean’s flashlight cut across the room, illuminating jars filled with strange herbs and bones. “Classic witch crap,” he muttered. “Creepy lighting, bad housekeeping.”
Sam crouched near a symbol etched into the floorboards. “She’s anchoring illusions here. These sigils are designed to mess with perception — false memories, hallucinations. She wants couples to turn on each other before she kills them.”
You shivered, hugging your jacket tighter. “So she makes them believe things that aren’t real?”
Sam nodded grimly. “Exactly. She manipulates trust.”
Dean snorted. “Figures. Nothing scarier than a breakup fight, right?”
Sam shot him a look, but before he could reply, his hand brushed against something half-hidden beneath the sigil. A small charm — a silver locket, cracked and stained with dried blood.
He froze, staring at it for a moment. The metal was cold against his skin, unnaturally so. A faint pulse seemed to thrum through it, like a heartbeat.
“Sam, you find something?” Dean called from across the room.
Sam quickly slipped his hand back, shaking his head. “Just… dust. Nothing important.”
Dean grunted, already distracted by another wall of symbols.
You glanced at Sam, catching the flicker of unease in his eyes. “You sure?”
“Yeah,” he said too quickly, forcing a small smile. “It’s nothing.”
But as you moved deeper into the farmhouse, Sam’s chest felt tight. His thoughts began to blur, shadows creeping at the edges of his vision. The locket’s cold lingered in his palm, even though he’d dropped it.
---
The motel room was suffocating, the neon glow outside flickering through the curtains like a heartbeat. Dean sat at the edge of the bed, flipping through notes, while you tried to piece together the sigils from the farmhouse. Sam paced like a storm, his movements sharp, his eyes wild.
“Sam,” you said carefully, “you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”
He stopped suddenly, his voice low but trembling with fury.
“I saw you.”
Your stomach dropped. “Saw me what?”
“With Dean,” Sam snapped, his voice cracking. “Don’t play dumb. I saw you together.”
Dean’s head shot up, his face hardening. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Sam’s fists clenched, his breath ragged. “Don’t lie to me! I saw it. You were kissing her. You think I’m blind?”
Dean stood, his voice firm. “Sam, listen to me. That never happened.”
But Sam’s head shook violently, the false memory burning behind his eyes. He saw Dean leaning close, your lips meeting his. It was vivid, undeniable, twisting his chest into knots. “I saw it,” he growled. “You betrayed me.”
You stepped forward, desperate. “Sam, it’s the witch. She’s in your head. She’s making you see things that aren’t real.”
Sam’s face twisted, rage overtaking reason. “Stop lying! You’re nothing but a liar… a whore.”
Dean’s fury snapped. “Don’t you ever talk to her like that!” He shoved Sam back, chest to chest, the motel walls rattling.
Sam shoved him in return, his voice breaking. “Stay away from me! Stay away from her! You think you can take her from me? I won’t let you!”
Dean’s jaw tightened, his fists clenched. “You’re out of your damn mind. I would never touch her.”
But Sam wasn’t listening. His eyes were wild, his movements erratic. He lunged again, irrational, consumed by the witch’s spell.
You grabbed Dean’s arm, panic rising. “We have to stop him. He’s not himself.”
Dean nodded grimly. “Yeah. Before he hurts himself — or us.”
Together, you wrestled Sam onto the bed, his strength fueled by rage. He thrashed, shouting accusations, his voice hoarse. “You’re proving it! You’re both against me!”
Dean grunted, pinning him down while you tied his wrists with the motel’s spare rope. Sam fought every knot, his eyes burning with betrayal.
Finally, he lay bound, chest heaving, sweat on his brow. His voice was venomous, but broken. “Go ahead. Leave me here. Run off together. Prove me right.”
The words cut deep, but you forced yourself to stand tall. “We’re not leaving you. We’re saving you. This isn’t you, Sam. It’s her.”
Dean grabbed his jacket, his face grim. “We’ll end this. Then we’ll bring him back.”
Sam scoffed, his laugh hollow. “Yeah. Leave together. Just like I saw.”
You froze at the door, his words echoing in your chest. Dean’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t look back. “We’ll fix this,” he muttered. “No matter what it takes.”
And with that, you stepped out into the night, leaving Sam bound and broken, the witch’s spell still clawing at his mind.
---
The cheap floral wallpaper swam in Sam’s vision. He blinked, trying to clear the strange fuzziness clinging to the edges of his sight, but it only made the patterns seem to writhe. He was tied securely to a sturdy wooden chair in the center of his own motel room, Dean’s knots expert and unyielding. "For your own good, Sammy," Dean had insisted, his voice tight with worry Sam now recognized as false. "That witch messes with your head again? We can't risk you hurtin' yourself or us. We'll be back soon."
The door clicked shut. Silence descended, broken only by the hum of the ancient air conditioner and Sam’s own ragged breathing. He strained against the ropes again, testing them. Solid. Unmoving. Just hold on. They’ll break the curse.
Then, the air shifted. It wasn't a sound, more like a pressure change, a sudden, jarring displacement.
They were back. Standing right inside the door they’d just exited.
Dean still had his hand on the knob. He wasn't looking at Sam. He was looking at her. His eyes held a predatory gleam Sam had never seen directed at her before. A low, unfamiliar rumble vibrated in Dean’s chest. Something about the light catching Dean’s face seemed… sharp. Too defined. Unnatural.
"Told you we’d handle it quick," Dean murmured, his voice rough, but laced with something dark and possessive. He took a step towards her, not towards Sam. The door swung shut behind them with a soft click that echoed in Sam’s ears.
She was leaning against the door now, her chest heaving slightly as if from exertion, but her eyes… her eyes were locked on Dean with an intensity that stopped Sam’s heart. Not fear. Hunger. Pure, raw need. The way she looked at him, at Sam, sometimes… but amplified.
"Dean…" she breathed, the sound trembling.
Dean closed the distance between them in one long stride. He slammed his palm flat against the door beside her head, caging her in. His other hand shot out, tangling violently in her Y/H/L Y/H/C hair, wrenching her head back. The movement was too fast, too brutal, almost jerky.
"Missed you already," Dean growled, the words thick and slurred slightly, like he was drunk on something other than victory. He leaned down, his mouth crashing onto hers in a kiss that wasn't tender. It was claiming. Devouring.
Sam sucked in a breath, ice flooding his veins. "Dean! What-What the HELL?!" His voice cracked. "Get off her! NOW!"
They didn't react. Didn't even flinch. As if he didn't exist. Dean deepened the kiss, a wet, obscene sound filling the room. Her hands flew up, not to push him away, but to clutch at his leather jacket, pulling him closer with desperate strength. A small whimper escaped her throat – not protest, but pure surrender.
Dean broke the kiss with a wet sound, panting. He rested his forehead against hers for a second, then turned his head slowly. His eyes met Sam’s across the room. The green was unnaturally bright, almost phosphorescent in the dim motel light. A cruel, satisfied smirk twisted Dean’s lips.
"See that, Sammy?" Dean’s voice was a low purr that vibrated unnaturally in the small space. "She can't get enough." His gaze raked over her body possessively. "Bet you never made her look like this." His big hand slid down from her hair, over her shoulder, and clamped possessively over her breast through her shirt, squeezing hard enough to make her gasp and arch into him. "Bet you never filled her up proper."
Sam roared, throwing his weight against the ropes with such force the chair legs scraped harshly on the worn carpet. "YOU SON OF A BITCH! LET HER GO!" The rope burned deep into his wrists, hot and slick. Blood? He didn't care. "Y/N! DEAN! YOU… YOU TOUCH HER AGAIN AND I SWEAR—"
Dean just laughed – a harsh, grating sound that didn't quite sound like him. "Shut him up, baby," he murmured against her ear, loud enough for Sam to hear. "Tell him how much you want it. How much you want me."
Her Y/E/C eyes fluttered open, dark with lust, meeting Dean's with terrifying devotion. Then they slid towards Sam. There was no recognition in them. Only a feverish haze.
"Show you what?" Dean taunted, his hand moving down to roughly undo her belt buckle, the clink echoing sharply. "Show you how much bigger I am?" He yanked her pants and underwear down her hips in one rough motion. "Show you how much deeper I can go?" His own belt was undone in seconds, jeans shoved down just enough to free his cock.
Sam saw it. Thick. Heavy. Angry red and straining. Unnervingly large, even for Dean. It pulsed visibly in the dim light.
"No..." Sam breathed, denial thick in his throat. This can't be happening…
But the sight was undeniable, seared into his vision.
Dean gripped himself roughly, guiding the broad, flushed head to her exposed entrance. He dragged the head of his cock across her open slit drawing a moan from her lips. “Mmm Fuck. Your little pussy is dripping.. this all for me baby?”
Your breath hitched as another longing moan escaped your lips.
“Yes… Dean…” your words dripped with need.
He looked right at Sam as he spoke, malice dripping from every word: "Watch close, little brother. Watch how she takes all of me." And with a powerful thrust of his hips, he buried himself inside her to the hilt in one brutal stroke.
She cried out – a sharp, high sound that morphed instantly into a long, guttural moan of pure sensation. Her head slammed back against the door with a dull thud, her Y/E/C eyes rolling back slightly before focusing with rapturous intensity on Dean.
"FUCK!" Dean growled, already setting a punishing rhythm, pounding her against the motel door with each deep thrust. The sound of flesh slapping flesh filled the room – too loud, too sharp. Her body jerked with each impact. "Feel that? Feel how deep I go? How much more I give you?"
"Y-yes!" she gasped, her hands scrambling for grip on his shoulders. "God, Dean! So deep! So much... more!" Her voice hitched on the last word.
"Hear that?" Dean panted, driving into her relentlessly, his hips pistoning with animalistic force. He leaned down, biting her neck hard enough to leave a dark claiming mark and making her cry out– not in pain, but in ecstasy. “Hear that clear enough? ‘More'. She needs more than you ever gave her." His eyes locked onto Sam's tortured gaze again. "Bet that pencil dick of yours never stretched her like this."
Sam strained until stars exploded behind his eyes, bellowing incoherent rage and betrayal. Tears blurred his vision. He saw Dean shift his grip, hauling one of her legs up high around his hip, opening her wider.
"Look at him," Dean snarled against her skin as he thrust harder, deeper. Her moans became desperate sobs of pleasure. "Tied up like a goddamn dog. Pathetic. Can't protect you. Can't satisfy you." He slammed into her again. "Tell him! Tell him who fucks you better!"
"Y-you!" she wailed, her voice cracking. "Dean! Only you! Please! Harder! Fuck me better than Sam!"
Each word was a knife to Sam's soul. He sagged against the ropes, choking on a sob.
Dean's rhythm became wild, erratic. "Gonna come?" he grunted, sweat dripping from his brow onto her chest. "Gonna come all over my cock while your boyfriend watches?"
"Yes! YES!" she screamed, clinging to him as if he were her only anchor.
"Then COME!" Dean roared, slamming into her one final time, burying himself impossibly deep and holding her pinned against the shuddering door. "SCREAM MY NAME!"
She convulsed violently against him with a piercing shriek: "DEAAAAAAAAAN!"
Dean threw his head back with a guttural shout of triumph that seemed to vibrate the walls. He pulsed deep inside her for several long seconds, his body rigid against hers.
Then it was over.
Dean slowly eased himself out of her, lowering her leg gently – a jarring tenderness after the violence. He kissed her forehead softly, murmuring words too low for Sam to hear as she slumped weakly against him.
Dean turned his head towards Sam as he held her close. That unnerving smirk was back.
“Sweet dreams, Sammy," he said softly, his voice dripping with venomous satisfaction.
Then they were gone.
Out the door.
Sam was left alone in the sudden silence of the motel room. The ropes dug into his bleeding wrists. The chair was solid beneath him. The floral wallpaper was still and flat again. The air conditioner hummed monotonously.
The only evidence they'd been there was the phantom echo of her cries, the searing image of Dean's triumphant sneer, and the devastating certainty burning in Sam's chest: His brother had taken everything from him. And she had begged for it.
He slumped forward in the chair, utterly broken, the ropes the only thing holding him upright as silent tears carved paths through the dust on his face. The scent of gunpowder and leather that always clung to Dean seemed to linger mockingly in the air… mixed now with something faintly metallic… like ozone after a storm… and salt from his own despair.
---
The farmhouse was colder than before, the air thick with the witch’s presence. Candles flared as you and Dean stepped inside, handguns raised, the custom silver‑tipped bullets gleaming in the chamber.
She appeared at the far end of the room, eyes gleaming, lips curling into a cruel smile. “Ah… the lovers come to play.”
Dean leveled his pistol, his voice sharp. “You’ve had your fun messing with my brother’s head. It ends now.”
You tightened your grip on your weapon, anger burning in your chest. “You twisted him against us. You made him believe lies. That’s over.”
The witch laughed, her voice echoing. “He saw what was already inside him. His doubts, his fears. I only gave them shape.”
Dean fired first, the shot ringing out like thunder. The bullet struck her shoulder, sizzling as the enchanted metal burned into her flesh. She shrieked, staggering back, black smoke curling from the wound.
You fired next, your round slamming into her chest. The witch convulsed, her spell faltering, the air vibrating with the force of her unraveling magic.
“Dean!” you shouted, reloading fast.
He surged forward, firing again, each shot precise, fueled by rage. “This is for Sam!”
The final bullet struck true, piercing her heart. She screamed, the sound tearing through the farmhouse as her body collapsed into ash. The candles extinguished in an instant, leaving only silence.
Dean lowered his gun, chest heaving, the acrid smell of burnt magic filling the air. He glanced at you, jaw tight. “Let’s get back. Sammy needs us.”
---
The motel room was heavy with silence when you and Dean returned. The witch was gone, her body ash and smoke, but her curse lingered in the air like poison.
Sam sat bound to the chair, head bowed, shoulders trembling. The ropes had bitten deep into his skin, blood dripping from his wrists where he’d fought against them. His breath came in ragged gasps, and though the spell had broken, his eyes were still clouded, haunted.
Dean’s jaw tightened as he stepped forward, knife in hand. He crouched low, cutting through the ropes with careful precision. The fibers snapped one by one, but Sam didn’t move. He stayed slumped in the chair, wrists raw, his gaze fixed on the floor.
Dean’s voice was low, almost gentle. “You’re free now, Sammy.”
Sam lifted his head slowly, and the look in his eyes made your chest ache. Tears streaked down his face, but behind them was torment — the images of you and Dean together, the cruel words he’d spat, all replaying in his mind like scars carved too deep to heal.
“I can still see it,” he whispered, voice breaking. “You and him. Laughing. Touching. Kissing. And the things I said…” His throat tightened. “I can’t take them back.”
Dean stepped back, giving you space, his expression grim but knowing.
You moved closer, your heart pounding. Kneeling in front of Sam, you reached up, your hands firm against his face. His skin was damp with sweat and tears, his jaw tense beneath your touch.
“Sam,” you said, voice steady but fierce. “Look at me. That wasn’t real. None of it. This is.”
Before he could protest, you leaned in and kissed him — not soft, not tentative, but with all the fire and certainty you had left. The kiss was desperate, magnetic, pulling him out of the shadows clawing at his mind.
Sam froze for a heartbeat, then melted into you, his hands trembling as they rose to clutch your arms. The bitterness, the illusions, the sharp words — they all fell away under the weight of what was real.
When you finally pulled back, your forehead rested against his, your breath mingling with his. “Do you feel that?” you whispered. “That’s us. That’s real. Nothing she showed you can change it.”
Sam’s chest heaved, his eyes searching yours, the torment slowly giving way to something softer. His voice cracked, but this time it carried hope. “I… I believe you.”
Dean, standing off to the side, exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing. “About damn time,” he muttered, though his tone was gentler than his words.
Sam’s hands tightened around yours, the magnetic pull between you undeniable. Even through the blood, the bruises, and the dark thoughts still lingering, he was drawn to you — tethered by something stronger than any spell.
Summary:Despite winning against your team’s biggest rival, you aren’t in the mood to celebrate afterwards, so Olivia takes you under her wing.
Warnings: N/A
A/N: Collab with the amazing @impossiblewolf
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-~-
The hard, loud smack of the volleyball colliding with your hand as you serve it never fails to be such a satisfying sound to your ears even with the crowd being as noisy as they are tonight.
Your team was playing against its biggest rival tonight, and the lead your team had on them was slim. Two points, to be exact, and only two more were needed to win the game. As the best server on the team, the coach had just put you back in to finish up the game.
Your serve went straight to the player in the far corner on the other side of the volleyball court. She quickly braced herself and the ball hit her forearms hard enough to make you wince internally as you imagined the nasty red mark that would surface by the end of the play. You watch as her single pass sends the ball back over the net directly to Jocelyn, your fellow teammate protecting the left corner of the court.
“Got it!” She yelled, assuming the proper passing position.
Eyes on the ball, you watch as she passes it to Olivia, who sets the ball to Maya, the middle blocker by the net. Maya jumps in the air like it’s effortless and smacks the ball downward over the net. Your rival’s defense narrowly misses blocking the ball, and it hits the ground with a loud boom.
The triumphant roar from you and your teammates is instant and in unison, the six of you briefly meeting in the middle of your side of the court to give each other a celebratory pat on the back or the waist.
“Nice serve, Y/N/N,” Olivia grins at you, her smile so bright it makes her eyes sparkle. Her hand when she congratulates you comes to your hip, her fingers curling slightly, as she draws you closer to her by an inch.
The moment is over in seconds but it doesn't matter. Your heart flip flops so hard in your chest you swear it falls to your stomach as you grin back, suddenly breathless.
“Thanks,” you reply, doing your best not to betray your excitement.
“Hey Liv!” You hear one of the girls from the opposing team — Calleigh, you think her name is — say as you and your teammates get back into position for the next play. “You should come over tonight and grab my hips like that.”
Olivia’s back is to you at this point, so you don’t get to see how she rolls her eyes good naturedly at the rival player’s flirtatious remark. Instead, a familiar ache blossoms in your chest at the reminder of just how out of your league Olivia is. She’s the captain of the team. A jock, according to many. Others called her a player because of her looks and popularity. And, of course, the ones who have kissed her say she has incredible lips. Calleigh was one of the lucky ones to have experienced this for herself. She and Olivia had been caught making out at the regional tournament last year. That little make out session had been one of many.
Olivia could have anyone she wanted, and had yet to make a move on anyone in a while. Rumor was that she had slept through enough of the rival teams that she finally wanted to look inward. Which to you meant one of the prettier, funnier, smarter girls that filled your team.
“This could be your last play of the night, girls!” Your coach yells from the sideline, abruptly pulling you from your thoughts. “Make it count!”
You take a deep breath, trying to rid your thoughts of Olivia Benson for more than a split second. All that mattered right now was winning, and showing your team that you were a key part of that win.
“Let’s do this guys!” Olivia yells as the rival team serves what could be the final ball of the night.
Their serve doesn’t go as far as yours did. Maya passes it back over the net with a rather anticlimactic whack against her forearms and a player in the back row of the opposing side passes it to Calleigh, the best setter on their team, who sets it to the player directly in front of Olivia.
Bad move.
The girl goes to simply tap it over the net, which would usually result in a point for the team, but Olivia is quicker. She tips the ball back over the net, just over the player’s head, and you and her watch as Calleigh narrowly misses diving for the ball. Olivia quickly looks at the referee standing guard on her right and they signal that your team got the point.
The crowd went wild and so did you, Olivia, and your fellow teammates on the court, the six of you meeting in the middle for a celebratory hug, where you feel Olivia’s hand resting heavy in your back and practically burning a hole through your jersey.
“Great job guys!” Olivia yells over the chaos of the crowd, a proud grin on her face as she looks at everyone. You think you imagine it, but her gaze seems to land on you for a moment longer than everyone else.
For a moment, her general praise pushes away the insecurity that Calleigh’s flirtatious remark had caused. But as your team lines up to congratulate the rival team on a good game, you see Calleigh still looking at her. It’s not long before they’re close enough to exchange whispers, and you see Olivia laugh at something Calleigh whispers in her ear. Her laugh reaches your ears a moment later, and the sound is so sweet that a pit forms in your stomach. You rush to the locker room before anyone else can see your crestfallen face.
———————-
The team throws a party like they always do whenever they win against this particular team. It’s the biggest party of the year and people spill out of every room of the chosen house. There’s always alcohol involved but it’s usually only a couple of teammates who are dumb enough to get wasted on it. Everyone else usually dabbles in it while you and Olivia tend to steer clear of the substance. You have heard rumors that Olivia’s mom is the drunk professor who is currently on probation, but you are too scared to ask her for the truth. Even with the drunk friends, you usually always find the parties to be a lot of fun.
Not tonight though.
Tonight, you can’t stop hearing Calleigh’s words in your head and can’t stop seeing the way she looked at Olivia. After having a crush on her for months and not having the guts to do anything about it, convinced that Olivia was out of your league and simply didn’t feel the same way — despite how friendly she always was toward you — being around a group of people is the last place you want to be.
Suddenly, too many emotions are running through your head that you don't know how to handle. The thrum of anxiety is building in the part of your brain you desperately try to ignore. You can't tell if it’s your brain closing in on you or the wall, but suddenly the house feels cramped and overheated. You look around, trying to find solace and your gaze lands on the table littered with alcohol. The ghost of its taste coats your tongue, making your fingers twitch for a moment before you curl them into a fist.
‘Not today. Not today.’ You think to yourself as you turn away.
Jocelyn nudges Olivia’s shoulder as she notices you reappear from the corner you had retreated to. Olivia hums an acknowledgment but her eyes are already tracking you. She has been frantically trying to find you since she got to the party, and now that she has she refuses to stop.
“Looks like someone’s not in the mood to party,” Jocelyn observes with a hint of disappointment partly directed towards you as well as the way she notices Olivia looking at you. “Maybe a few drinks could unscrew whatever has her so wound up.”
“Not everyone needs two shots of Tequila to keep mentally sane like you,” Olivia replies before pushing away from her spot on the wall. “I got her.”
“Y/N/N!” She says over the noise of the music and teenagers talking as she pushes through the thickest part of the crowd.
Your head turns at the sound of her voice against your will.
“Y/N,” Olivia exhales once she reaches you. “Where are you going?”
Her gaze is soft as she studies you from head to toe. She quickly notices how flushed you look, and she can’t tell if it’s from how warm the house is or because of the anxiety that’s beginning to show itself in the way you subtly squirm.
Finally, you stuff your hands in the pockets of your varsity jacket as you shrug. “I-I don’t know, to be honest. Home, probably. I’m just not in the party mood tonight.”
“Let me walk you home,” Olivia says.
You shake your head briefly as your gaze momentarily shifts to the floor. “You don’t have to do that. Stay and have fun. I’ll be alright getting home.”
Olivia leans a little closer as if she were about to tell you a secret, the sound of her heart pounding in her ears drowning out the noise of the party. “I want to,” she insists, her voice a little quieter, more personal. “Please.”
You swear your heart and your lungs simultaneously forget how to function as the smell of Olivia suddenly wraps itself around you. For a moment, all you can do is stare dumbly at her before you finally snap back to your senses and nod.
“Okay,” you reply dumbly.
You let out a trembling breath as her hand comes to rest low on your back to usher you out of the crowded party. She looks over her shoulder towards where she had been standing with Jocelyn and finds her and Maya watching. Maya smiles a little too knowingly for her own good and waves, briefly holding her thumb and pinky finger out in the shape of a cellphone. Olivia nods once and flashes her a smile.
The cold nighttime air the two of you step out into is a welcomed relief, and you inhale loudly but slowly through your nose, exhaling out of your mouth. Immediately, you feel some of the anxiety begin to fall away, and your thoughts begin to clear up.
“Better?” Olivia asks softly, and you nod.
“Yeah,” you sigh, running an anxious hand through your hair. You miss the way Olivia’s eyes immediately fall to your exposed neck before your hair falls back down. “I love a good party, but sometimes they’re just a lot, you know?”
“Yeah,” Olivia chuckles briefly.
The two of you begin to walk in the direction of your apartment, your shoulders nearly touching with each step. There is plenty of room on the sidewalk, but Olivia doesn't seem to care, only wanting to be close to your warmth. It isn’t long before Olivia stuffs her hands in her pockets to protect them from the cold. It seems like the air is only going to gain more of a bite to it as the night progresses. Definitely not the ideal weather to be walking home in, but at least you’re not alone.
“Where’d you go after we high-fived the rival team?” Olivia finally asks, breaking the silence, glancing sideways at you. “I couldn’t find you.”
“I thought I’d get a headstart on freshening up and getting changed,” you lie, suppressing the wrenching in your gut that resurfaces at the memory. “You know how the locker room gets after games.”
Olivia doesn’t buy your response despite the amount of truth it holds. She shakes her head briefly and, despite the cold, tucks some hair behind her ear.
“That girl, Calleigh,” she starts, still looking at you. “She’s really nice and all, but there’s nothing going on between us. What happened last year was just a one-time thing.”
You blink at the abrupt change in topic before you frown a little, studying her. “Why are you telling me this? It doesn’t matter to me.”
“I don’t—I don’t know,” Olivia smiles nervously, looking down at the sidewalk as she kicks at an imaginary rock. “I guess because I have a crush on someone and I haven’t told anybody, but I wanted somebody to know I’m not looking for a fling.”
The disappointment in your gut is instant. It’s heavy, heavy enough to bring your steps to a screeching halt. The anxiety that had started to dissipate comes back darker, hungrier, threatening to eat you alive.
“Wow,” you say a bit breathlessly, a strained smile with an unknown emotion attached to it briefly surfacing. “Must, uhm…must be really nice for them.”
Olivia swallows before she nods, her stomach feeling like an enclosure with a hundred panicking butterflies searching for a way out. “Yeah, I’d say it is pretty nice for you.”
“What?” You question immediately, convinced that you didn’t hear her right.
“It’s you, Y/N,” she admits softly. “It has been for months.”
Out of any moment to remember rumors of someone, the cold streets of New York is not a location you had thought of. People thought of Olivia as being a bit of a player, of allegedly sleeping with almost the entire rival team. As her friend, you find those rumors hard to believe. But a small part of you wonders if there’s some truth behind it to be feeling the urge to pull back, to put some walls up. Putting walls up is how you deal with everything, though. It is safer to push people out instead of letting them in.
“I don’t want to be just another girl for your scorecard, Liv,” you say with a hint of bitterness. You see the moment your words hit Olivia, the way her eyes squint a little as if you had physically hit her to cause pain.
She steps closer to you, the two of you practically standing toe to toe. “You aren’t just some dash or number on a nonexistent scorecard, Y/N. You’re the trophy.”
You feel the tears surface immediately from her words, the sincerity behind them completely blindsiding you. You part your lips to respond, but your brain comes up empty, so you simply lick your lips instead and roll them together.
Despite the cold air, you feel some heat blossom in your cheeks when you notice Olivia’s gaze drop to your lips.
“My place is closer than yours, if I remember right,” Olivia points out. “Why don’t we head to my place instead? Either just for a little while or overnight is completely up to you, but maybe we could talk some more?”
“Yeah, sure, that sounds good,” you nod, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.
This time, when you start walking again, Olivia holds out her hand as an invitation. You hesitate for a moment, but then curl your fingers through hers. She grins so broadly that your stomach flips. Olivia shoves your intertwined hands in her coat pocket to keep them warm, forcing you to walk with your shoulder pressing against her. Your face feels like a furnace now, and a small part of you is grateful it’s dark so Olivia can’t see just how red your cheeks are.
When you get to her apartment, your hand is clammy in hers. You try to pull away to wipe it off on your jeans but she only grips it tighter. With her free hand, she slides her key in the lock and pushes the door open. The apartment is dark when you enter, and you only get a couple of steps in when your foot hits something with a clink.
Olivia swears, and her hand releases yours as she rushes to pick up the vodka bottle you had accidentally knocked over. She flicks on a lamp to dimly illuminate the living room that is covered with alcohol bottles of various types and sizes. Her face turns a beet red as she rushes to pick them all up.
“They’re from my mom,” Olivia explains in a strained voice. “I-I know you don’t drink anymore, and I wouldn’t have brought you here if I had known it had gotten this bad.” Her words are rushed now as she refuses to look at you. “I’m really sorry.”
Again, you’re caught off guard with the knowledge that Olivia pays enough attention to you day in and day out to notice such a thing.
“Liv,” you say, grabbing her wrist gently, which forces her to look up at you, “I’m fine. The bottles clearly aren’t your fault.”
“My room is alcohol free, I promise,” Olivia says, taking a deep breath to compose herself. She deposits the bottles into the trash. Some of them sound like they break upon impact, but that’s an issue neither of you are particularly worried about.
She reaches for your hand again, and you walk behind her until you get to a room at the end of the hall. For a moment, you feel a bubble of nerves burst in your chest because there was no way you ever imagined you would be entering Olivia Benson’s bedroom. Before you can overthink it, she is pulling you inside and shutting the door.
Your eyes scan the room when she turns on a couple of lamps. Her walls are filled with a few posters of Dire Straits, women’s volleyball, the Empire State Building, and various group pictures of the team from freshman year until now. As you walk further in her room to investigate the group photos more closely, you notice your absence in many of them. You’re not a big fan of having your photo taken, so your absence doesn’t hurt your feelings. But given the scene you first walked into, maybe it was time to put aside that dislike so Olivia could have more physical memories of you, of someone who actually cares about her.
Her bookcase catches your eye next. A couple of shelves are filled with used books, and a third shelf has a record player with a collection of records that spans the rest of the shelf. Your first instinct is to walk over to touch it, but you would never forgive yourself if you actually wrecked it somehow, so you stay where you are and keep your hands in your pockets.
“You’ve got a nice room,” you say as Olivia takes off her coat and hangs it in her closet.
“Thanks,” she smiles briefly. “Not much to look at though.”
“Not from where I stand,” you reply before you can stop yourself.
Your cheeks instantly get hot as Olivia blinks, visibly caught off guard by your words. You only start to smile shyly when you notice her blush.
“Didn’t know you were the flirty type, Y/N/N.”
“Me either,” you chuckle nervously. You’ve made the occasional yet playful flirtatious remark to your friends in the past but you never had the opportunity to actually flirt with anyone in a more romantic manner.
Olivia pats on her bed for you to sit and you slowly plop on the edge of the bed, Olivia sitting close enough beside you that your thighs almost touch. You keep your hands in your lap, fiddling anxiously with your fingers.
“I like you too, you know,” you admit slowly. “In a crush sort of way. I can’t stop thinking about you when you’re not around and when I see you, you’re all I can focus on. And…god when you get close, like this, or you do that cute little thing when you flip your hair… my-my brain just…short circuits.” You laugh briefly.
Olivia reaches over and lays her hand over yours, squeezing gently. You steal a glance her way but refuse to lift your head, which doesn’t matter in the end since she places a finger beneath your chin and lifts it. You swallow nervously, but are met with a smile on her face and a twinkle in her eye that makes your heart melt.
“You don’t have to explain it to me. I go through the same struggles everyday,” she admits, her thumb slowly stroking your knuckles. “In case I wasn’t clear earlier, I want you to be mine.” Finally letting those words come out into the open is enough to make her pause for a moment, her gaze suddenly portraying how nervous she is too. “If you’ll have me, that is,” she added quietly, her gaze falling to your jacket.
“If I’ll have you?” You ask, your tone gentle yet full of disbelief, a huff of laughter forcing its way through. “You’re Olivia Benson, captain of the volleyball team and one of the smartest people in school. I’m lucky just to get to call you my friend. It’s me who should be asking that.”
“Well I’m asking, and I hope months of pining for you won’t end with an answer that includes rejection."
Your face grows warm again at her words, and it feels like flames are licking at your skin where she’s touching you. You gulp, trying to form words when you finally whisper, “Of course I’ll have you. But I’m curious, what does being yours include, exactly?”
Your lungs suddenly tighten when Olivia reaches over with her free hand and cups your cheek. “For tonight, it includes staying over and letting me hold you until we fall asleep,” she says, her voice a little unsteady from anxiety.
Just the mere idea of getting to do that with you has her heart in her throat and the butterflies in her belly threatening to make her fly away.
You smile at her simple request and Olivia visibly relaxes as you press your face a little harder into her palm. Your own butterflies are making your stomach vibrate with a mixture of nerves and excitement at the idea of sharing a bed with Olivia.
seonghwa's 27th birthday was a success. the day went just as he had hoped: a calm morning, quality time with the other ateez members, an eventful atiny livestream, a small celebration with family, and at last, an afterparty with close friends.
specs: seonghwa x reader, reader is an idol in kq's first-ever girl group. she is also one of seonghwa's childhood friends.
if you want to skip to the smut, it starts roughly 1/3 through the chapter. yw ;)
misc. tags: p.sh top/dom, established relationship, use of pet names (angel, baby, star, etc.), alcohol, inebriation, jealousy, swearing, possessiveness, dominance, restraints, m/f sex, birthday sex, subtle oral sex, subtle fingering, subtle degradation, spitting, subtle praise, gentle dominant, aftercare, mostly vanilla, mushy, multiple positions, L-word, some switching... please let me know if i missed anything!
word count: 9954
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
you sit with your hands underneath your thighs on the cramped couch, seonghwa to your left and yeosang to your right. across the circle, wooyoung is proudly explaining the rules of a drinking game to the newcomers--your old shared high school friends who showed up to celebrate hwa's 28th.
the birthday boy is only one soju in, but showing it. his frequent giggling pairs nicely with yeosang's airy conversation, and as you sip from your plastic cup, you find yourself growing warm and tipsy between the two, your cares slipping away. practice has been tough this week with your group's upcoming comeback, and although you may not have realized it, you needed this night to relax and celebrate your best friend.
"okay!" wooyoung claps his hands, and twenty-odd pairs of eyes snap to attention. with a grin, he points to seonghwa. "hwa-ya, you're up first. draw a card."
seonghwa, grinning and wiggling to the edge of his seat, leans forward towards the arrangement of cards in the middle of the coffee table. when he selects one, your eyes register its number just as he reads it aloud.
"five."
"five is drive," wooyoung nods.
everyone tentatively puts both fists out in front of them, many looking at woo for affirmation.
hwa is already grinning. "vroom."
the gameplay passes away from you. you sigh in relief. as the objective moves around the circle, you prepare yourself as it nears again.
yunho and jongho struggle with it, but, laughing, eventually pass it to yeosang... who drops it completely.
a chorus of laughter springs up from the group, and yeosang bashfully smiles. "ahh, oops.."
it's your mutual friend eunji's turn next. beside seonghwa, you feel a little exposed—not because your proximity to him is especially scandalous, but because the others aren't really aware of how your relationship with him has evolved over the past year.
everyone at kq knows about you two by now, but somehow you've successfully avoided letting outsiders in on the career-endangering coupling. until last year, you both had truly only been as close as the average colleague-to-colleague, and neither of you had intended for this to happen. everything changed at the golden hour: part 1 release party last spring, when you had your first full conversation with each other since becoming adults. since then, well...
you take another sip of your soju, effectively emptying the cup. seonghwa glances over fondly and silently takes the plastic from your hands. you start to protest, but he's already slipping out of the cramped living room, headed for the kitchen.
you watch as eunji designates someone for her card, two is you, to victimize, and to everyone's mirth, mingi is at the other end of her pointed finger.
"ahhh," mingi bows his head with a grin, and after a series of jeers ring out, he lifts his small ceramic cup and takes a swig of whatever is in there. yunho claps him on the back, nearly choking him, while everyone cheers.
seonghwa returns and passes you the plastic cup with a wink. you exchange a long, deciphering look with him before tasting the fizzy liquid. almost instantly, your heart and your belly warm at the taste. it's your favorite—peach soju with sprite.
the games continue through the evening, and you're generally having a good time until you notice eunji getting especially close to seonghwa on his other side.
you're not the jealous type. vying for attention isn't your thing. but when it comes to the way eunji's laughter rings out the loudest when seonghwa says something only mildly funny, you feel an itch in your mood, something unshakeable.
you try to wash it down with the peach soju, telling yourself it's nothing.
"birthday shot?" hongjoong is offering a small glass to seonghwa.
you laugh with the rest of the partygoers, clapping him on the shoulder.
"ahh..." seonghwa seems hesitant. his ears are red.
"come on, star," you encourage, laughing.
seonghwa casts a devious glance at you, then gives in. "alright, alright. everyone... cheers!"
hoots and hollers erupt in the room as everyone raises their glass. in one swoop, you down the rest of your soju, its warmth catching up to your head—or maybe it's the way how when you lower your empty cup, eunji's palm is literally, casually, on seonghwa's knee.
it's like the soju gets caught halfway down. seonghwa is laughing and waving his hand dismissively as hongjoong offers him another shot. he moves his knee absently out from under her touch, but otherwise shows no other sign of noticing.
it's that small, uncomfortable gesture that puts you in a mindset you can only describe as... protective?
san is tipsy and red in the face, retelling the story of how he met seonghwa while everyone listens intently. you find yourself paying close attention to eunji out of the corner of your eye, even though you're beside yourself with exasperation. you have never acted like this. why here, why now?
it's no secret to anyone that seonghwa is one of the most beautiful people on the planet, and this fact coupled with the reality of being an idol normally doesn't bother you. people are in love with him. you get it. it's not really a surprise that an old classmate is subtly making moves. can you really blame her?
eunji's soft, melodic laugh sounds again, and she leans in to whisper something to him.
you try to take another drink, forgetting your cup is empty.
"need another?" seonghwa's murmur surprises you. you jump a little, not expecting him to lean so close.
"i'm good," you shake your head, offering a grateful smile. you can feel the alcohol beginning to take affect. you drank this one much too quickly, and it's too late now. "thanks, though."
his smile is amused, and his eyes shine as he stands up anyway. "i'll grab you a water?"
you start to politely decline, moving to also stand up, but eunji is already on her feet, leading the way to the kitchen.
somewhat bitterly, although you know it's unfair of you to feel this way, you settle back into your spot and avert your attention as seonghwa follows her to the kitchen.
yeosang gives you a gentle nudge. "you look stiff. everything okay?"
when you look at him, his eyes are squinted in a soft laugh. you roll your eyes and playfully shove his arm, feeling your face burn. "shut up, hyung."
seonghwa returns first, pressing an ice-cold water bottle teasingly to your upper thigh, subtly lifting the edge of your skirt—not a lot, just enough that you would notice.
you snatch it from him, your cheeks still a little pink from yeosang's banter, now made worse as you take in the way he's looking at you.
"paboya," you mutter, pressing your knees together to make room for him on the couch.
eunji conveniently squeezes herself in on seonghwa's other side, and with mild irritation you can't help but think that you would have probably sat on the arm of the couch just to be polite.
seonghwa seems to notice how uncomfortable you look. he glances at eunji, then at you, his expression registering in understanding. with a smirk, he starts to put his arm atop the back of the couch behind you, then seems to think better of it, bracing his elbow on the upholstery instead. you just adjust your skirt, taking a sip of the water.
it's late. with the gathering in full-swing, you feel the repercussions of early-morning practice catching up to you. it takes a lot of effort on your part to not let your drunk body lean into seonghwa, and you start to wish your high school friends would take their leave already.
seonghwa's behavior grows muted too, the alcohol still keeping him warm and giggly, but his speech growing softer.
as eunji grows more inebriated, she becomes less inhibited with her wandering gaze, no longer bothering to hide her obvious admiration for seonghwa. she keeps trying to have side-conversations with him, catching up on life and whatnot, asking how often he visits home, if he misses anything about it, what the best thing is about being on the road.
seonghwa's social adeptness does not fade when he's drunk, unlike yours. as it grows harder for you to keep your facial expressions in check, he effortlessly navigates the questions in a polite and professional way.
"and you guys all live here, right?" eunji inquires, her eyes bright. "you all have your own rooms?"
seonghwa nods. "yeah, yeah—"
as he points down the hall, she interrupts him, putting her pretty little hand on his arm. "can i see? minho told me you still collect legos, and you have a whole display."
the water bottle in your hand makes a loud noise as it is crushed. several people look at you. embarrassed, you play it off like you're just opening it to take a sip, at the same time standing up and muttering something about using the bathroom.
you're drunker than you realize. as you head down the hallway, you stumble a bit and have to catch yourself on the wall. hwanjun, another old friend, is just exiting the bathroom. he puts a hand on your shoulder to steady you.
"whoa, you okay?" he asks, stopping you.
you nod, even though you're not, and all you can think of is seonghwa showing eunji his legos. the idea bother you so much. you feel ridiculous. "thanks. fine. i might actually—oh, god."
your stomach twists. you barely have time to barrel your way into the open doorway and throw yourself towards the toilet before your stomach starts purging itself of everything you had consumed in the last six hours.
it takes a minute, but eventually relief washes over you, despite a lingering disgust.
gentle hands swoop your hair back. your head spins. vaguely, you register wooyoung's voice asking someone for a hair tie, and then he's gently tugging your hair into a simple ponytail at the base of your neck.
"nothing to see here! move along, you nosy bastards," wooyoung snickers, patting your shoulder as he addresses the handful of people in the hallway apparently checking on you.
you can just make out four or five pairs of feet from where you bow over the ceramic bowl, and you groan inwardly as some familiar socks step into the bathroom and shut the door.
wooyoung gives you one last pat on the back before silently taking his leave. when the door is closed again, you sigh and rip away some paper to wipe off your mouth, slumping back against the wall across from the toilet.
you can feel the warmth of seonghwa's body. he's crouched beside you, concern obvious on his features. he holds your gaze, but nudges you playfully. "you okay?"
it's like his soft voice dissipates any remaining petulance. you nod, accepting the water bottle as he puts it back into your hands, the cap already off, wedged between his thumb and his palm.
as you take a long sip, he settles beside you, brushing some of your hair behind your ear. outside, you can hear distant chatter as the party continues like normal.
"want to go lie down?" he suggests gently, his fingers skimming comfortingly along the inside of your leg.
you take another sip of water. "maybe. do you still have my toothbrush here?"
"in the cupboard." he looks you up and down for a moment. then, the corner of his mouth lifts, that damn smile crease making an appearance. "too much soju?"
"yeah," you lie. "i guess so."
his smirk melts into a knowing smile, and he puffs a breath of laughter. "mmhm. okay."
you take a deep breath and let it out slow, the back of your head making a soft bump as it rests against the wall.
a comfortable silence falls between the both of you. after a while, you roll your head to the side to look at him. "go back out there. enjoy your party. i'll be in your room, 'kay?"
seonghwa's expression softens. "drink some more water," he murmurs, pulling your head closer to kiss your temple.
you listen, taking another slow sip from the bottle, waving him away. he snickers and hops to his feet, slipping out of the room. the door closes with a quiet click, leaving you alone again.
with a heavy sigh, you clamber to your feet and try to ignore the creeping pounding of your head as you fish the familiar green toothbrush from the vanity cupboard.
his room is a welcoming, cool temperature, and the only light comes from the uv lamp he has going in his beloved moss terrarium. a safe haven of sorts. you curl up beneath his heavy comforter, and it's like your body melts into a relaxed state, the familiar smell and feel of his sheets like a balm for your ugly emotions.
you can still hear eunji's pretty laugh ringing out every so often from the living room, and even though it's irrational, you can't help but feel irritated about the whole thing. luckily, the chatter has quieted, simmering into a lull that signifies the gradual end of the celebration.
safely behind the closed bedroom door, you miss all the goodbyes and promises to stay in touch as everyone starts to trickle out, dozing in and out of sleep for a while. it's only when you feel the weight of another body sinking onto the mattress beside you that you stir again, inhaling for a big yawn.
as you stretch your limbs, seonghwa takes the opportunity to snake his arms around you from behind, and it's a soft kiss on your shoulder that really pulls you back from sleep.
"happy birthday," you mumble affectionately, twisting to wrap your arms around him in return.
"it was," he whispers, his nose poking your forehead at first. he's still a bit giggly as he presses his lips to your nose. "are you feeling better, baby?"
you close your eyes again, snuggling into his pillow. "mhmm... better, now that eunj—"
you stop yourself, but not soon enough.
he grins. "oh, i knew it."
you groan and try to roll away, but his arms tighten around you.
"no, stay here," he snickers, his lips finding your neck. one of his hands spreads out against your thigh where he had put the water bottle earlier, fingers digging in just slightly, tugging your hip backwards into his, effectively trapping you against him.. "tell me about eunji, baby..."
"drop it," you groan, frowning as your body responds to his touch.
"i could tell something was bothering you," he mumbles against your skin, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses from your shoulder to your ear.
"seonghwa..." you protest weakly, but you're not sure if you're objecting to his kisses or his words.
"star," he says back, his tone playfully stern. his grip on your thigh loosens, only for his fingertips to start skimming upward, the fabric of your skirt bunching around them.
you bite your lip in frustration.
"you're jealous," he murmurs, as if proud of himself.
"i'm not jealous."
"she wanted me to show her my legos," he starts giggling, nuzzling into your neck. you can still smell the soju on his breath.
"brush your teeth," you deflect. your stomach is twisting unpleasantly again.
"what do you think she would have done, hmm? if i had brought her in here..."
as he speaks, his fingers slide higher, eventually meeting the fabric of your panties. your heart starts thudding, even while your stomach churns. "seonghwa," you plead softly.
"were you worried? i do apparently have a thing for friends to lovers, as you well know..."
you start to reach for his hand as his fingers dip underneath the elastic band holding your underwear to your skin, but his teeth gently nibble at the spot above your pulse, so you freeze, your breath audibly hitching.
he chuckles softly, his tongue soothing over the spot his teeth had pinched. "maybe you can show me what you imagined she was thinking of, hmm?"
"brush your teeth, you smell like soju."
"i'll brush my teeth," he sighs, lifting himself off the sheets. he puts his palms on either side of your body, swinging into place above you. "but first..."
the alcohol in your veins urges you to comply with this, every nerve ending suddenly extremely sensitive. luckily, his fingers aren't playing underneath you skirt anymore, but now they're gently picking apart the buttons of your shirt.
you lie beneath him, squirming helplessly as he continues.
"she tried to put herself in my lap after you left, you know," he murmurs, his teeth taking over on the last couple buttons while his hands start their work with touching all his favorite parts of you.
"wh.. huh?" you're dizzy, and you can't tell whether its the alcohol or his touch making you disoriented.
"well," he pauses, pushing apart your thighs with his knees, "not exactly. she was next to me on the couch again, and she pulled her knees up onto the couch, but they were practically on my thighs, you know?"
he seems to enjoy the lump that forms in your throat, grinning devilishly as he kisses on it.
"hmph," you manage, but even through the forced nonchalance, your fingers curl into the sheets.
seonghwa's tongue glides along the side of your neck, and he giggles when you flinch, your hand flying up to cover the spot.
"are you upset, baby?" he purrs.
you refuse to look at him.
his tone drops an octave or two. "oh, not gonna speak to me, huh? that's okay."
a gasp leaves your mouth when he starts kissing down your open shirt front, leaving more little love bites as he goes.
his next words come out in a heavy breath. "you don't have to talk for me to figure out what you want."
he lowers himself over you, and all you can think about is how his lips sound making contact with your skin, how his warm mouth feels in contrast to the cold air. the moisture left behind by his kisses leaves you shivering a bit, goosebumps rising all over your body.
his fingers continue torturous patterns over your sternum, your breasts, your abdomen, your hips. his touch is slow and fervent, like a potter with clay on the wheel.
you swallow, staring up at the ceiling. for whatever god damn reason, you can't get the vision of eunji's knees on seonghwa's lap out of your head. to learn that she was practically throwing herself on him after you got sick... it trips a switch in you.
"why didn't i just say something?" you groan suddenly, and seonghwa raises his head from where he's attending to your lower belly.
"hmm?" he muses, folding his arms over your stomach and laying his head over them. a perfect listener.
"i should have just said something," you mutter. "it's not like they would tell anyone about us, or have any credibility if they did..."
he registers what you're saying and smirks a bit. "mm."
you sigh softly. "why'd you let her touch you? you don't have to be polite, you know. not when someone's making you uncomfortable."
"listen to yourself," he teases, watching his own fingertip as it makes shapes into your waistline.
you push yourself up onto your elbows, looking down at him with a slight pout on your face. as your eyes trail after his movements, you realize he's tracing stars into your skin. a bubble of fondness rises in your chest.
"you can be jealous." he looks you in the eyes, his own twinkling.
"i just—" your brow furrows. "i think it bothers me because i—oh, fuck..."
as you start speaking, he wets his lips and sinks further down the mattress, his teeth finding your skirt hem.
"continue," he utters, and it's more of a command than an invitation.
you let out a soft breath, watching helplessly. when you speak again, your voice is airy with hesitance. "...i just... uhm... i think that if i were in her shoes, i'd... probably be just as starstruck, but i would never... oh, fuck..."
he's using his mouth to push and pull your clothes out of the way, looping his arms underneath your thighs, now. he plants a particularly wet kiss between your hips, then fixes his gaze on yours again. "you were saying?"
"seonghwa..."
his mouth lifts at the corners, obviously enjoying the way his name falls out of your mouth. "you'd be just like her?"
"no," you blurt, almost offended.
"i want to make you scream."
"what?" your eyes widen.
his eyes widen back, like he's mocking you. "what?" he grins. "focus. keep talking. i want to explore this."
you swallow. "uhm. i guess i'm just irritated."
"irritated...?" he starts kissing on the inside of your thigh, and you have to bite back a moan.
"yeah. i just wanted to—" you inhale sharply as his head ducks under your skirt. "i—mmh..."
he squeezes your thighs with his arms, pulling your hips down a bit. his tongue starts soaking through your panties, and his breathing is shallow now, coming out in hot puffs against your skin. you struggle to maintain your own breathing, shifting a bit under his touch.
you can feel where his nose is grinding against you, giving subtle friction, and it makes your mind go blank.
"i don't... want her to think... she can have you," you get out, your brain a mess of unconnected wires.
he hums from under the skirt, fully amused. "these are pretty."
"huh?"
your confusion is short-lived. he suddenly latches on to your panties with his teeth, then emerges from under your skirt, dragging the soaking wet garment down your thighs.
you gasp and instinctively squeeze your legs shut, to no avail. your knees press into his ribs.
he releases the lacey underwear from between his teeth, rising for a moment to grip them in one hand and drag them to your ankles. then he fixes a hungry gaze on you, his tongue sitting at the corner of his mouth, swiping a taste of his outer lip. "no, you're right... she can't have me. but you can."
you flush, glancing away while he climbs back over you, his hips meeting yours and pressing down.
"you can have all of me," he breathes, his mouth finding your neck. his fingers smooth up over your hips, to where your shirt sits open. he seems to be enamored for a moment, looking down over your body, taking in every angle, every curve. "you're just..."
you shiver as his fingers curl into the open fabric of your shirtfront, slowly sliding the two halves apart.
"...just like a present," he hums. "for me to unwrap, right?"
"seonghwa," you all but whine.
"relax..." the word is breathed against your neck, and you can feel your skirt being slid slowly up and over your hips. his mouth finds the spot where your throat meets the underside of your jaw, making a soft sound of yearning as he kisses there.
in an attempt to be closer, your body arches into his. almost immediately, his arm slips under your waist, keeping you there. his kisses grow hungrier, sloppier, on your neck.
"hwa," your breath is coming out a little faster now.
his free hand slips up between your thighs, feathering over your skin, torturously slow. when they find their destination, he groans softly, his teeth catching on your throat. you squirm.
"ah," he grins, kissing his way to your ear. "already this wet... and i've hardly touched you..."
underneath you, his other hand snags the corner of a pillow and drags it to replace his arm where it supports your waist. with the pillow beneath you now, his fingers find yours and pin the back of your palms to the mattress, squeezing gently.
"should i undress you more, or take you like this?" he questions, raising himself to drink in the sight below him.
you can't help the way your body grows warmer, your face flooding with color. he seems to enjoy your reaction, one corner of his mouth lifting.
he drops his voice to a playful whisper, bringing your wrists together over your head. his question is sincere, though obviously cloaked with desire. "are you still feeling unwell?"
you shake your head, becoming very aware of just how vulnerable and exposed you are as the cool air settles over your skin.
"it makes a bit of sense now," he murmurs through that damn smirk, one hand working free his belt. "you made yourself sick with jealousy, didn't you?"
you sigh softly, closing your eyes. "she was making you uncomfortable."
he hums, folding the belt to rest where the other pillow had been, close enough to make you wonder if he intends to use it for something else.
"she was oddly touchy," he agrees softly. while he talks, he drags two fingers from your sternum to your navel, a breath of a movement. "i can't remember her ever being like that before."
your breath hitches when he continues lower, his fingertips hooking into the waistband of your skirt.
"can i take this off?"
he's only asking to tease you. you huff softly, lifting your hips in compliance.
seonghwa just grins and tugs the garment down off your hips. you sit up slightly to shrug the open shirt from your arms, casting it aside. when everything is completely gone, he smooths both hands up from your knees, his palms slowly pushing apart your thighs to make room for his hips to settle between them.
his touch feels like worship. his lips meet your skin again, and the cool metal of the star pendant around his neck catches your attention, being the only thing other than him on your body now. it feels a little unfair that he still has all his clothes on, but he seems to rather enjoy the imbalance.
he kisses on your breasts, his lower body lying flush to yours, and his fingers find yours only to pin them above your head again. with nowhere else to go, you arch up into his kisses, biting back a moan.
his tongue presses against the dip between your ribs, and then trails up between your breasts to your collarbones, and then off to the side. his hips follow the movement, meeting yours as his breath finds your ear, and you can feel now through his trousers just how badly he wants you.
your breath catches as he rolls his hips, definitely getting his trousers a bit damp.
his mouth is still gentle as ever, decorating your neck in kisses. "mmmph..."
"hwa," you breathe, your fingers trying to escape from his.
he lets one hand go, but only to pin your hips in place with a firm grip.
you swallow nervously, reaching to pick at the buttons on his shirt. he had been wearing this damn white dress shirt all day, and it looked nice on him, but now you wanted it off.
his kiss finds its way to your mouth, growing hungrier. he brushes your fingers away, apparently impatient, and starts on the buttons himself. within seconds, he is shrugging the shirt off his shoulders. you feel dizzy at the sight. he's been working harder on his form lately, and it's paid off, to say the least.
he sighs, sitting up on his knees to work off his pants. his gaze is still fond, but as soon as the button comes free on his trousers, his eyes darken.
"for my birthday," he starts, jerking his garments down as he settles back over you, hovering just above your body. "i want to make you feel good. but i want you to let me hear it."
you nod, swallowing hard. he kisses you again as he takes up your wrists for the final time, pinning them firmly to the pillows. with his mouth to distract you, you're hardly aware of what he's doing until you feel the leather and hear the soft clink of metal. there's a few strips of strong, unbreakable fabric tucked under his mattress, used for nights like this. his headboard doesn't have rungs, so he fastens the belt to the strap on the right before you even realize what he's doing.
he seems pleased with himself as he tears away from your mouth, watching as you pull uselessly on the restraints, your face flooding with color.
"still feeling jealous?" he smirks, putting his fingers between your legs again.
he starts teasing you, apparently wanting to hear your moan.
with a small smile, he reassures you, "don't worry. i'm going to fuck the jealousy out of you."
his words make you inhale, squeezing your eyes shut.
he pulls your thighs up around his hips, then starts slow, putting himself against you at last. the pressure of his swollen cock against you gradually increases, making your whole body heat up. just as you don't think you can handle the intensity with which he presses down on the sensitive seam of your body, he uses his hand to guide himself lower, and the sound of him spreading you open makes you blush. he's already made a mess of you.
he groans in one long, shaky exhale. "fuck..."
he lowers himself to your skin again, holding your thigh in one arm, the other braced against the sheets. he breathes out as he presses slowly deeper, his mouth finding a spot beneath your ear to bite down on.
though his teeth are gentle, you whimper. he gradually fills you, and you find yourself squirming, your fingers clenching around the leather holding them together.
"ahh," he sighs, kissing on the spot his teeth had marked. "god, you feel so good, angel..."
when he recedes slightly, you both tense up, and he makes a soft, growling noise at how tight you've become.
"fuck," he moans, roughly pushing on your hip, trapping you against the sheets as he draws his hips back, nearly shaking at the effort it takes to come back from filling you.
you're panting and breathless, dizzy with pleasure already.
he doesn't finish pulling back fully, unable to resist pressing himself back inside.
"seonghwa," you moan, and he takes it as a signal to do it again.
"uh huh," he mutters, gritting his teeth with the effort of holding back. "ohhh, jagi... the way i want to fuck you into this mattress right now..."
you shiver. "mmh—"
"no. we're gonna go nice and slow, don't worry. can you feel it?" he waits for your nod, then presses his palm into your lower belly until it almost hurts. "how about now, angel?"
you try to squirm, but the pressure of his hand insists. he marvels for a moment at your reaction, at the way your eyes glaze over in neediness. then he resumes his movements, still going slow, but less patiently now.
you can feel him teasing you, rubbing his palm into spots that border on feeling good and feeling painful, whittling away at your pleasure.
he leans close to your mouth, his lips ghosting over yours. "you take it so well... i think you're ready for going a little faster, don't you?"
your moans become muffled into his kiss. he hums in satisfaction, gripping your waist for leverage as his hips start to quicken their pace. faster, then faster. soon, he is almost pounding into you, his heavy breaths in time with the fall of his weight.
you're crying out with every thrust. "s-seong—ng—"
he growls, as if relishing the way you can't even finish his name. his voice has a growl of an undertone as he works his hips. "ahh, sweet angel—you're so fucking wet, do you feel it? do you feel how you tighten up for me?"
his words only serve to bring more color to your face. you're writhing and whimpering, a complete mess, and it's just how he wants you.
"that's right, let me hear you—it feels good, huh? yeah? tell me how it feels, my sweet girl..."
and as you open your mouth to respond, his thumb slips over your tongue, effectively jamming your speech. if you were close before, you're one subtle push from the edge now. from the smug expression on his face, he knows it. but he's not going to let you off this easily.
you suck and drool around his knuckle, much to his pleasure.
"mmhm. good... god, you're so good for me..."
he doesn't relent, his breaths getting labored and heavy. all that vocal training on the treadmill, it seems, has paid off in other ways. as he cups your chin in his fingers, pressing his thumb onto the back of your tongue, he murmurs uninterrupted praises.
"so good, so wet, so needy... are you still jealous, angel? you're being so good, so compliant for me." his eyes spark dangerously. "is this what you want to yourself? hmm?"
you choke a bit trying to answer again, and he presses further into your throat, his hips abrasively picking up pace.
you squeeze your eyes shut, overwhelmed.
"look at me."
his tone change is enough to shock you into submission. you blink dizzily up at him.
his grin is dangerous. he withdraws his thumb, and you gasp for air, his puffs of breath mixing with yours.
"open."
you part your lips again, though they are shaking slightly now.
he spits into your open mouth. before he has to tell you, you swallow, and he gives a pleased growl.
"can you take it if i put you on your stomach?" he asks through gritted teeth.
you can feel warmth blossom across your features. "i—mmhm. yes. yes, please."
"that's my girl."
in an instant, he's withdrawn completely, leaving your body aching and empty, screaming for his touch. making sure not to hurt your bound wrists, he lifts you carefully by the hips, coaxing you over. you squirm to assist, twisting around, inhaling sharply when his fingers dig into the back of your thighs. once you've settled, he slides his palms up and down appreciatively for a moment.
this angle has hurt you before, so he bows down beside your ear and kisses on your cheekbone, his fingers skimming up your spine.
"stop me if it's uncomfortable," he murmurs, gathering your hair from your shoulders into one fist. "can i pull your hair?"
you nod, swallowing your nerves as he slides his knee up between your legs until it can't go any farther. he keeps you there, his thigh firm and unmoving while he tests out a soft tug on your hair. you know you're getting his thigh all wet, and you whimper softly only for him to respond with a pleased hum.
with his other hand, he grabs and pulls upwards on your hip until you comply. he takes the pillow that had been under your back before and wedges it beneath your lower belly this time, then begins to make more distance between your thighs with his knees.
he takes a breath and lets it out slowly, tapping your ass once, firmly, with his palm. "you're a dripping mess. do you really need me that badly?"
he taps again, this time a bit harsher, though not quite a smack. you make an involuntary sound, his touch no doubt adding to the moisture making your thighs slick.
"oh, does this excite you?" his voice is gravely and amused. "being spread out like this? if i didn't know any better, i'd think you were enjoying being posed like a slut."
you gasp as his fingers find your clit. he clicks his tongue when your thighs try to close.
"no," he says calmly, giving your hair a slow tug, bringing your head back a bit. "stay open for me. i'm going to fuck you until you admit to me that you like this. okay?"
your breaths feel louder in your tilted throat, but you mutter out your agreement, and he begins.
his cock is warm and stiff as he spreads you again, and he lets out a steady groan as he takes you this time.
you feel yourself tense as he approaches the depth at which he's hurt you before, but this is where he stops, drawing back to start again. when he still doesn't press deeper on the second stroke, your find yourself whining in frustration.
"i want it all," you mumble, stretching your body away from the restraints over your head, doing your best to push your hips towards him as he sinks deep again.
he caresses your waist appreciatively. when he speaks again, you can hear that he's starting to lose himself. "we'll see, baby. just be patient."
he doesn't make you wait long. releasing your hair, his hands find your hips and tilt them how he wants you, an angle that makes you moan.
"you do like this," he's pleased. "should i spank your ass, too?"
he clenches his teeth and delivers a firm smack without waiting for a reply. you react with a surprised cry and a jolt of your hips.
"yeah," he pants, moving relentlessly. "more? or are you going to admit that you're a slut?"
"seonghwa," you whimper, your fingers curling into the leather belt, hanging on for dear life.
when he smacks you again, you can feel your body wrapping tighter around him, and by the soft growl he makes, he can feel it too.
"mm, you feel that? you must really—" he grunts as he hits you again— "like this, huh baby?"
your thighs are shaking now, and you can feel yourself gushing around his cock. every sound you make is lost in a desperate whimper, but his strikes have begun to sting a little.
"does it hurt, baby? just tell me you're my slut, and i'll stop."
under different circumstances, you may be able to hold out a little longer, but combined with your exhaustion, you're already a mess. you manage to choke out, "i like it—i like it, i'm a slut, please—"
he slows at your words, a gentler version of his touch dropping to rub over the tenderness of your skin.
his slower pace has you trembling on his cock, and he's patient with you as you catch your breath.
"you okay, angel?" his voice is no longer aggressive in the slightest. "do we need to stop?"
"no," you shake your head, maybe a little too eagerly. there are only a handful of words swimming in your brain, so you say some of them. "please—please. don't stop."
he hums, easing a hand up and down your spine before bracing against your hip and, despite your plea, pulling his throbbing length out completely.
you shiver as he does so, groaning at the loss of contact. it's not what you wanted, and your pleasure now sits as if it has been shelved. put away. you can't help but feel a bit upset.
as you recover a bit, his fingers find the clasp on the belt and give a quick pull, releasing the tension. the strain of being stretched out on your stomach for him is mostly found in your shoulders and wrists, and you let them fall slack for a moment. recognizing this, he rubs the tired muscles on your back for a few minutes before asking anything else of you, letting you settle into the sheets. he moves to stretch out beside you, tracing patterns into your skin. you grumble, but don't push his hands away.
"here, baby," he eventually says softly, grasping your hips and coaxing you to turn over to face him.
you give a soft groan, compliant to him, letting him pull you closer by the waist. he just smiles at your grumpy pout.
"when you're ready," he promises with a kiss to your forehead, an open invitation.
"i'm ready," you insist, weakly pushing him onto his back. he could easily resist, but complies with your gentle touch. you take a small breath and then lift your shaky limbs over his body.
he chuckles softly, steadying you with his hands. his voice comes out caring and low, "are you sure?"
you settle your hips over his, ignoring the encumbering ache of exhaustion. he seems to see right through your tiredness, and helps you position yourself, looking up at you with quiet admiration.
you drag your sopping cunt over his length, satisfied when he lets out a groan of a sigh, his head tilting back, his eyes falling shut.
"oh, angel..."
your breath is getting quicker again out of excitement. you try not to hurry the slow slide of your hips over his, but eventually your impatience wins over, and you reach down to lift his cock to your aching body.
his eyes flutter as a sigh escapes his chest, rising and falling with your thighs. you sink down onto him, burying him as deep as he'll go. his hips rise to meet yours, making you let out a soft squeak of pain. when the noise hits his ears, he drops back onto the mattress, his eyes locked on yours now as he sits up.
"sorry," he murmurs, pushing the hair from your face with gentle fingers. his breathing is labored. he seems to be itching for friction.
you shake your head to indicate that it's fine, bracing your palms behind yourself, on his thighs. your fingernails dig in slightly as you start to ride him.
a muffled, strangled noise bubbles up in his throat as you begin moving. "fuck..."
"more of that," you beg between breaths.
his gaze is unfocused and hazy, but he keeps it on yours. "hmm?"
"more noise," you beg.
a smirk decorates his pretty mouth. "but baby, everyone else will hear—"
you come down slightly harder over his hips, eliciting another groan from him. it's louder. catching his breath, he glares at your satisfied smile.
"naughty," he notes, his octave dropping into that gravely measure while one hand smooths up your thigh. his eyes sink to where your hips are rolling, and he tilts his head to let out another sound, this one softer, more desperate. "fuck, angel..."
he gathers himself to watch while you gradually pick up the pace, growing faster until you're practically bouncing on his lap, which is filthy wet now. his grip on your hip is firm, and becomes tighter the faster you go, squeezing until it almost hurts. his tongue sits on the edge of his lips, his gaze hungry as he takes you in, panting and sweaty overtop him.
somehow, although technically in control, you have the notion that you're not the one in charge here. he confirms the inkling with a single word.
"slow," he says, amidst a purr and a groan.
you oblige, as if rewarding him for all the sounds he's making for you. in reality, you're hopelessly submissive to this particular version of him. hell, maybe to any version of him.
he responds by releasing his hold on your hip, leaving the reddened marks behind to push on the underside of your breast with his palm. his thumb hovers over your nipple, poised like a teasing threat.
"stop moving," he whispers. "just for a second."
you hesitantly abide.
"good." his thumb starts making slow circles over the sensitive nerves on your breast, causing your stomach to tighten. "now start slow, and steady."
you're starting to shiver, your thighs screaming for a break, the pleasure not helping. as you roll your hips, you whimper, "hwa..."
"that's good," he sighs. "just like that, angel. keep going."
you swallow and continue the agonizing pace. in your restless state, one of your hands drifts down so you can touch yourself, effectively soaking your fingertips.
his eyes flick to your wrist, then back up. "did i tell you to do that?"
you can't help but whine. you're too desperate, and you don't stop what you're doing.
he lets out a disapproving rumble that makes your stomach flip. "you're getting too bold up there."
you start to pull your hand away, but he catches your wrist in a firm grip, his eyes blazing. "your fingers are all wet now. lick them clean."
the only response you can muster is a blink of surprise.
your hesitation only seems to fuel him. he releases your fingers, but not before raising them to hover in front of your mouth. "go on."
your face burns. your hips have stopped their gradual saunter, and you have to take a moment to assess what this new command is doing for you.
he waits with patience, simply watching you think this over. you know you can say no, that he'll move on and continue with something familiar instead. yet... you do love to please him.
his gaze intensifies as your lips part. you take on the taste of your middle, then forefinger, never taking your eyes off his. he hums in satisfaction when your lips close around the digits, and then you're sucking and licking in slow circles, withdrawing your knuckles gradually.
he takes a moment to relish your obedience. then, as your glistening fingertips lower to his thigh again, he raises his hand to the back of your neck, pulling your mouth toward his.
you only have time to gasp softly before his tongue is in your mouth, collecting a thorough taste of what's left of your arousal. in the dizziness of the kiss, you hardly notice him hiking your thighs up around his waist, fitting his palm to the small of your back.
in one swift motion, you're underneath him again, but now your head is hanging off the edge of the mattress.
he separates his mouth from yours, but not before savoring the feel of your bottom lip between his teeth for a moment. you're both breathing heavier. his hips move slightly, a small rhythm, as if on their own accord. it's sticky where his base teases against your sensitive cunt, and the sensation makes you squirm. and then he's pulling out, leaving cold air to rush in. in protest, you reach for his waist, and he lets you pull him flush to your shivering form.
"the poster," he says, kissing sloppily on your neck now.
"mmh?" you look up, or rather across the room from your upside down view. there's a poster of the blueprint of a light saber on the opposite wall. you're not really sure why he's pulling you out of the headspace of sex, but you look at it anyway, your voice a breath away from a whisper. "what about it?"
"look at it. don't pull your head up, don't take your eyes off it. zone out if you have to."
you blink a few times, not quite sure what he's getting at until he grabs your hips with both hands, taking a steadying breath.
"ready?"
you only have time to swallow before he slams his cock into you, and then again, forcing a sputter of cries from your mouth.
"fuck," he sighs, unrelenting. "fuck, you feel so good—not so disobedient from underneath me, now, are you?"
he's got your thighs pulled up on either side of you, the underside of your knees tucked against his elbows. his thrusts are smooth and forceful.
"such a mess... such a fucking mess..."
you whine and squirm as his movements grow smaller but more intense. the way your head hangs off the edge puts a slight arch in your back that he seems to be taking advantage of.
he lays into you without mercy. "so good... just keep your head back like that, so i can see your pretty throat..."
one of his hand finds its way over your skin, clamping down over your neck, though not tightly. his sounds grow more desperate, as does his pace.
"seonghwa," you pant, but it turns into a gasp as his palm then slides down the middle line of your body, all the way down until his thumb brushes the base of his cock.
he pushes down into the hollow between your hips, rubbing repeating intervals into your clit.
your back really arches, now. "seonghwa! seonghwa wait, i—"
"what is it, baby?" he coos, his voice getting lost in labored breath. "close?"
you nod, closing your eyes, your hips shying back away from his, pressing as far into the mattress as they'll go. you hadn't noticed, but your fists are knotted into the sheets again.
"stay put," he mutters, his gasps for air growing more erratic. his hips chase yours. "i want you to give in to me."
you resist, though your legs are trembling. "seonghwa..."
a growl of desire tears from his throat. "come."
you try to say something, but all that comes out is an incoherent, "mmh—"
"come for me. come on my cock."
you won't have a choice soon.
"baby, i'm..." he tries to regain confrol of his breaths. although you can't see him, you can feel the moisture of his palm, mixing with your own, and you know he's probably covered in a sheen of sweat. the mental image makes your stomach coil.
"seong—" you can't even finish his name now.
"that's it," he encourages, feeling your body tense underneath his hand. "good, now just... come for me, baby, come on my cock..."
that gentle tilt to his tone is what does it. you're shuddering before you even give in, and he lowers himself over your body, gripping your hips now, coaxing you through the orgasm.
"good," his groan is as soft as his whispers now. "god, yes... god, you're so good... fuck..."
when you go limp in his arms, your heart stumbling along and your breath trying to keep up, he presses a couple slow, fervent kisses to your neck.
"hwa..." you feel like your senses are lost in radio static.
but he's not done with you. gentler than before, he drags your body towards himself, giving your head an anchor to rest on. his grip on your hips is soft now, and soon he lets go completely, instead taking your fingers and pinning the backs of your palms to the sheets.
"i love you."
at first he says it quietly, the words mumbled between his mouth's ministrations on your collarbones. when he says it again, it is uttered with a sort of reverence.
"i love you."
you feel your breath catch harshly in your throat. you return a broken, "i love you."
he raises his head to asses you. "are you alright, angel? can you still take me?"
you nod, incoherent to everything but him now. your eyes are closed.
"that's my girl..."
his hips start to move, spreading you open again. he begins a slow, deliberate worship of your body. a slow fuck. the tension that had slipped away after your release begins to brew again. your fingers squeeze his, grounding you in the floaty feeling.
"seonghwa," you breathe.
"keep saying my name," he pleads while he tucks his face into the crook of your neck.
you're still in a bit of a daze, but you're surprised that he seems to be enjoying this more than what he was doing before. "seonghwa..."
he exhales shakily in response. his pace becomes a bit quicker, but only enough for your body to notice. you widen your thighs without thinking, and the sounds that follow make you blush.
"fuck, baby," he whines. "you're so wet."
he's not wrong. you're practically gushing around him. by the way his lungs seem to tremble, you can tell he's approaching his plateau.
"seonghwa," you mumble desperately. "come for me."
the invitation makes him shudder. his breath is hot on your shoulder. "oh, god..."
you push your body towards his, arching into his ministrations. your own breathing starts to get rougher again.
his fingers give yours a light squeeze before he releases them and instead slips his forearm beneath the arch in your back. his mouth connects with your skin again, and though the rhythm of his breath is heavy, he finds his words between the impatient kisses.
"i'm going to... mmh, i'm going to make... make you come again..."
you shake your head, tilting your hips to give him an angle that will pull him deeper. he reacts with a grateful groan, lifting his face to your ear. without warning, he bites—more of a nibble, really—and the hot condensation on your lobe raises goosebumps.
"seonghwa," you whimper, which only encourages him.
"come for me," he pleads, right against your skin. "don't make me beg. i can feel your pussy squeezing. you're close again, aren't you, angel?"
his soft-spoken nature has you completely on the edge again. you fight off the pulses of pleasure threatening to take over and instead focus on weaving your free hand into his hair, soliciting another groan from deep in his chest.
his lips next kiss on a spot just beneath your ear. "where do you want me?"
your inhale freezes before it can escape, and instead comes out as a handful of largely incoherent words. "deep, i—please, fuck, inside, you have to—mnh, hwa—"
he grins against your skin, the heel of his palm pressing into yours while he adjusts himself, allowing his hips to stall.
amidst this momentary reprise, you gather your breath. you're just in time, too, because he can't seem to stay still. the slow fuck continues, only much less slow now. your breathing returns to uneven staggers.
"okay," he murmurs, planting a small kiss on your jaw as you fight to be good and lay still for him. "i'll give you what you need."
you resist the urge to squirm as his pace starts to build within you. he kisses across your face to your mouth, seeming to speak directly to your tongue.
"relax, baby..."
it's difficult to do as he says while he grinds so thoroughly into your hips. at least you manage to hold off the sudden rush of tension begging to be released. his more frequent sounds of pleasure aren't helping.
"seonghwa," you plead in an exhale. "seonghwa, please, i'm—"
"shh," he soothes, holding your torso against his while he rocks into you, shaking the bed a bit. "i've got you, i've..."
neither of you are finishing sentences anymore. in a bout of urgency, his hand shoves yours into the sheets where your fingers are still clasped. he catches your mouth in a quick kiss, muttering, "oh, fuck—you want it?"
you nod, gasping out affirmation. the sensations have brought you all the way back up, and now he's about to cave with you. "yes, yes—"
"take it," he demands, pushing himself as deep as he can.
as you cry out, he holds you there, not letting you move as you feel the heat of his release, long enough awaited.
his hips twitch as he indulges himself in your kiss. "ohhh, fuck, oh, angel..."
his hand grips yours in nearly-painful tremors for a moment. your legs are fully shaking.
in a sudden tenseness, you clench up completely, your cry soundless, and then all at once you're a sensitive, quivering mess. this release is followed with an exhaustion that weighs right in after you've fully finished.
he seems to feel the same. after a moment, seonghwa lets out another curse and collapses onto your body. a blissful brain fog floods your head.
you lie there for a moment, recovering, the both of you filling the silence with heavy respiration. you find it in yourself to rub soothing touches into his shoulders and spine despite the heaviness of your limbs, completely lost in what he's done.
as if pulling him back to earth, your fingers seem to snap him from his thoughts, and he lifts himself off your chest to let you breathe better, starting on the harrowing task of detaching his body from yours.
you reconcile the loss of his warmth by crawling up to the pillows and slipping your arm around one of them. he's not far behind, sighing as he settles down behind you.
he lets you rest for a moment, his fingers scratching small circles into your back. a thick sleepiness settles over you.
"we should get cleaned up," he kisses your shoulder.
you protest with a sleepy noise. you don't want to move, and you don't want him to move either.
he just chuckles. then, raising himself from the sheets, he pulls his heavy blankets up to your shoulder. from the shift of weight on the mattress, you can then tell that he's gotten up, and based on the quiet sounds, he's finding clothes.
"where are you going...?" you trail off, rolling over, your tiredness weighing your eyelids down.
"shh. i'll be right back, baby."
his warm lips brush your temple, and then, through waves of sleep insisting on dragging you under, you are vaguely aware of seonghwa leaving the room.
in the lonely silence, you start to drift off. soon, though, he returns, and lifts the blankets off of you, effectively freeing whatever warmth you've managed to condense underneath them.
you protest with a groan.
"hey," he murmurs, putting something warm and wet against your thigh. "i need you to open up, angel. one more time."
you can feel your blush, but you're too gone to fight it. you let him pull your thighs apart, his touch gentle as he cleans the sweat and other moisture off your skin with the damp towel.
"we'll..." he sighs wearily, shifting above you, probably discarding the towel. "we'll deal with the rest tomorrow, yeah?"
you nod, shivering a bit. the warmth of his body returns, this time his skin flush with yours, and he herds the blankets back up over the both of you this time. he encircles you in an embrace that makes any remaining tension flee from your body.
"mmh," he groans, settling into place. "god, you're so good for me..."
"no, you," you manage faintly.
he chuckles a bit, nuzzling his nose into your hair. "feeling okay?"
"perfect," you murmur.
"still jealous?"
you groan and make the weakest attempt to push him away, which only results in him tightening his hold on you, entirely amused.
"kidding, kidding..."
you intend to reply with something smart, but the strange concoction of bliss, exhaustion, and remnants of soju blend together, rendering you useless except to snuggle into him. you choose not to consider the type of hangover that this kind of drunk could bring you, and instead let yourself be coddled.
"good night," he murmurs.
"'night..." you muster, fading fast. "happy... birthday..."
he just smiles, placing one last small kiss on your shoulder before letting you sleep.
“I’m sending you the coordinates to his last known location right now,” Oracle’s voice beamed through the intercom system you had attached to your suit.
The Riddler had been at large for weeks now ever since his grand escape from Arkham a few months prior and worst of all, there were no leads as to just what he was planning this time other than the usual trail of glowing green question mark trophies.
“Just… be careful out there. Something isn’t quite adding up,” you could hear the concern in Barb’s voice as she softly spoke, her brow likely furrowed in thought.
You reassured her that you’d be fine, that you knew exactly what you were getting into as you’d dealt with the Riddler before on many occasions. When Bruce had been too busy fighting off other villains, he began sending you as his sort of “cleanup crew” dealing with Edward, something Edward wasn’t too thoroughly pleased about for a while. Though with time, he had become accepting you as the one he’d be seeing more often than not. Though lately, your attention has begun to waver. You’d begun facing the wrath of Penguin and Two Face leaving Edward to feel slightly neglected.
Up ahead you could see the eerie, winding road wrapping around Pinckney Orphanage, the dilapidated structure poking out into the grayish night skies of Gotham. You approached silently and steadily, ready for whatever lie ahead (probably more hostages and riddles as you silently cursed yourself for not freshening up on your puzzle knowledge). Upon entering through the orphanage, the room fills with a silence, only the creaking of the front door being yanked open being heard. No desperate screams, no taunts, just silence.
A few steps further in and you felt as if you had the wrong location, as if whatever was here had long vacated the premises. Shakily, your hand drifted over the intercom button to press to call Oracle and alert her when an all too familiar, sickeningly annoying voice broke the silence.
“I wouldn’t recommend that if I were you, my dear.”
Before you could gather your surroundings, a giant army of robots burst through the ground resulting you to leap into action, fists pounding through the metal. Fueled by an urge to triumph, to prove yourself as more than Batman’s protégé, you tore through metal, gears flying across the ground as you disposed of the small army riddler had unleashed.
“You’re fortunate those were only the prototypes. If it had been the real thing, I would’ve watched you pitifully struggle from over here.”
“What do you want, Edward?” You kept looking around attempting to find the source of his voice only to glare up at that infuriating projection of his staring down at your measly form.
“What’s the plan here… what have you been doing in this orphanage?”
“Plan? Tsk, even if I had one you should know by now I wouldn’t just tell you that simply. Though then again, I’m always overestimating the intellectual capabilities of a mind as measly as your own.”
You had to stop yourself from gritting your teeth and lashing out pathetically at the flimsy projection screen in an outrage.
“You broke out of Arkham.”
“I wanted to have dinner at that little Italian place… the food there is almost as plain and unassuming as the inside of your mind.”
“I don’t buy that you haven’t been up to trouble, Nigma. I was there in Arkham City, I saw what you did to those poor people.”
“Perhaps if they actually had their wits they could’ve avoided the situation entirely,” he scoffed, brushing it off as callously as expected.
Suddenly, your eyes flickered to an odd looking bookshelf, seemingly placed haphazardly out of shape. Your eyes perked up, noting the possibility of what lies behind as you yanked out one particular old Greek Mythological book you’d heard Riddler referencing during one of his previous taunts.
“Hey, what are you-“
The entire pendulum swung open, showcasing the man of the hour, clearly having come unprepared. He hasn’t finished designing the intricate puzzle room he’d be broadcasting from in the future so he had opted for this little secret room as a placeholder. Instantly, you reached out to grab him though he held his ground, squirming and thrashing around like an untamed animal. Your fist collided with his face a few times as you both rolled around on the ground, desperately fighting. Your heel had dug into his groin lightly earning a light hiss from him as you hurled him back to the concrete, dusty ground. You’d gotten on top of him, breath panting lightly from the scuffle though it wasn’t anything peculiar when you noticed an odd light flickering between his eyes.
“Back to Arkham Asylum with you…”
“I doubt you’ll actually take me there,” he suddenly challenged, stilling his movements beneath you as he stared up at your face.
“Excuse me?”
“With the way you’ve been bucking your hips and grinding against me in desperation, I think you have an entirely different… motive in your mind, my dear.”
You opened your mouth to fight the ridiculous notion he was spewing out, hands prepared to hit him more out of sheer fury rather than necessity at this point though a tiny voice in the back of your mind knew you were right. This tension between you two had been building for some time.
“You say you’re going to beat me to a pulp all the time, yet you never do. It’s obvious that what you really want is to debase yourself on my cock until you somehow become even dumber.”
“Shut up.”
“You know I’ve got a photographic memory. I can remember every minute you’ve landed yourself in this precarious position with me along with the way you’d practically dry hump me as if you’re an animal. Nothing goes unnoticed in my eyes, no matter how much that inferior mind of yours tries to convince you otherwise, my dear.”
You’d been remaining still on top of him by now, your knees against the ground while your core was positioned directly above his cock. The glossy feel between your thighs had begun to pool against the satin fabric of your panties. His teasing had gotten you riled up after all.
“I fucking hate you,” you growl as your hands move to begin tugging at the belt out of its loops, “you’ve been nothing but a thorn in my side since I started dealing with you. With your ego-“
“I don’t have an ego!” Now was his turn to snap as he stopped your movements on his belt and savagely perched himself atop you, switching your positions at a lighting speed.
“If anyone has the ego here, it’s you with that pointy little noise and attitude that you come even close to solving my riddles. I had to begin dumbing things down since the Dork Knight started switching things over to you.”
“Why you little-“
Both of you paused as you heard his belt hit clink against the concrete with a light patter. Instantly, he flew into action, brutishly devouring your mouth as you frantically moved to match his moves. His lips were feverish, tasting lightly of caffeine as he thrusted his tongue inside your lips, attempting to conquer, to subdue you. However, you weren’t done putting up a fight of being in control as you bit his lower lip harshly, causing a soft groan to spill out from him. Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, you gingerly reached down and yanked his boxers and pants down enough to free his erection.
Harshly, your fingers wrapped around his cock, pumping and gripping the length tightly causing his focus to finally shift back to your actions.
“Fuck! So painful, you’re such a moron that you can’t even figure out how to be a good slut!”
“Have you considered I’m doing this on purpose?”
To that he simply lulled his head back letting out another shaky fuck of ecstasy. Suddenly, his gaze locked in on you as he promptly tore your hand from his cock.
“Enough teasing.”
Before you knew it, he had swiftly unzipped the jumpsuit you wore, sliding it down enough to expose the pink heart panties you wore beneath. His fingers dipped down, sliding the fabric down with a brutal sharp movement before he notched himself right between your folds. He reaches down, rubbing at the wetness that had pooled there as he chuckled darkly.
“So wet already from all this fighting. Perhaps you get off to hearing about your own stupidity.”
Before you knew it, he pumped his hips forward, pushing himself in deep causing both of you to let out moans. He didn’t even have to prepare you with how aroused you’d gotten just from all this back and forth tension you had going with him. He gyrated at a steady rhythm, pushing forward and back as if on instinct though you questioned that he had any prior experience.
“So tight, you haven’t even been fucked properly, my my,” he paused to let out another mewl as he managed to push himself against your clit, “Not only… fuck… are you a novice to hero work but it seems every aspect of your life carries over that disappointment.”
“You know nothing about me!”
“I know what your insides feel like- oh fuck!”
He exclaimed, giving his hips a few more desperate, aching pushes before releasing another groan suggesting how close he is. Not wanting to cum before you, his free hand reached down to start rubbing tight circles on your clit as you hissed and sucked in a breath. Your hair splayed around your head like a halo while your head tilted back in clear approval of the action.
“Oh shit, I’m going to-“
You didn’t even get to finish before feeling a ground shattering release slip from your body right as he buried himself in deep and empty out his own fluids to mesh with yours. Shakily, he yanked out his spent cock with a wet, succulent pop as his head fell back against your chest only briefly.
“…. I still despise you,” he murmured despite burying himself against your chest to listening to the faint beating of your heart.
The final installment...
Smut! Woo! And... mild plot. I 'm so sorry to anyone about to read this. If you know me, no you don't.
¬
“Are you satisfied, little fox?” Thorin asked, voice rough as gravel.
Bilbo nodded, humming contentedly. “As satisfied as I can be, left happy from a night of pleasure and full from a morning of food. As satisfied as I can be, given that any chance of assassinating my target have dispersed into thin air.”
Thorin didn’t laugh this time. He just nodded, using a hand to pull Bilbo to his feet. “Indeed,” he said quietly. “I must state… I am not yet satisfied.”
“No?” Bilbo asked, looking at Thorin as they stood chest to chest.
“No,” Thorin assented, icy pupils sliding down Bilbo’s form slowly. The gaze is seduction
“Well…” Bilbo started, thinking slowly. He gently pushed Thorin away, and, much to his surprise, the king took a step back. “I’ll have to see if I can fix that, don’t I?”
So if this became a continuing series, would we see Cooke getting bigger on other morsels?
that's a good question! It's less likely than Dahlia WG for plot reasons- I've currently got it outlined as a trio of short stories (titled MEAT+ME, MEAT+THEM, and MEAT+YOU respectively) and the first one pretty specifically focuses on Dahlia and Cooke's relationship as uhhhhhhh cow and farmer. so to speak.
