♡ pairing: lee jihoon x f!reader
♡ theme: smut [18+mdni]
♡ wc: 1.5k
♡ warnings: sexting/phone sex, dirty talk, semi-public, masturbation, cum eating
♡ a/n: happy birthday woozi i hope u like this filth i thought of at like 1am the other night love u <3
SYNOPSIS: You send a scandalous voice message to your boyfriend while he’s at work.
Jihoon is about to pull his hair out.
He stares dully at his laptop, rereading the email on his screen for the third time. The email asking him a question he already covered in the meeting this morning. Irritating.
With a deep sigh he hits the reply button and begins typing.
As discussed in this morning's team meeting, the Q3 revenue reports won't be available until next week due to a delay in invoicing on Finance's end.
-Jihoon
A much more polite response than is deserved, but whatever. He's about to return to his spreadsheets when a small flash in his periphery catches his attention. He reaches for his phone, the screen lit up with a notification from you. He opens his messages to see a nearly 10-minute long voice memo, followed by a text that says Don't listen without headphones 😘.
He has about a thousand things to do, but he figures he can listen to your message like a podcast while he works. Grabbing his AirPods, he pops the left one into his ear and hits play as he resumes typing formulas into Excel.
"Hey baby," your voice croons into his ear. "I really miss you right now."
He freezes. You like to send voice messages pretty often, usually if you're on the go or you want to tell him a story that would be too long to type out. Jihoon is a fairly quiet person — a stark contrast to your bubbly personality — and though you haven't been dating too long he really really likes you. So he's always happy to listen to you yap about anything and everything.
But your tone here is different.
"I've been thinking about you," you mutter sultrily, and like a dumbass it finally hits him that this is no ordinary voice memo.
"Been thinking about the way your hands feel on me," you say. He hears a soft swishing noise, immediately picturing your hand sliding down your body. "Thinking about the way you touch me…"
You let out a soft moan. Jihoon's cheeks start to burn hot at the realization that you're touching yourself. You're jerking off to the thought of him and recording it, and now he's sitting here in his stupid office listening to it. He's extremely glad he heeded your headphone warning, but he simply cannot having you moaning in his ear while he's supposed to be working. He glances at the clock: 4:32pm. So fucking close to the end of the day. He just has to make it another 30 minutes…
knock knock knock
Jihoon nearly jumps out of his skin at the rapping on his office door. He quickly locks his phone and tosses it in his bag as the door swings open.
"Got a minute?" the company VP asks chipperly as she pokes her head in.
"Sure," he answers reluctantly. As she steps into the office he realizes, to his horror, that the voice memo is still playing.
"I'm so wet, baby," you whimper in his ear as the VP starts asking him about some missing invoices. Apparently, locking his phone was not enough to pause the voice message; he glances over to his backpack on the floor, hoping to see his phone at the top, but a faint glow from the bottom of the open compartment tells him it has fallen deep within the bag. He knows he should just quickly retreive the phone so he can stop the audio, but the VP is notorious for scolding employees for being on their phones on the clock — and he does not want her to ask questions.
"Fuckkkk, feels so good," you groan as you slip your fingers into your cunt. "Wish it was your hands though…"
Jihoon's feels his ears turning ruby red, silently praying his longer-than-usual hair is enough to conceal his flustered state. He wants more than anything to yank the AirPod out of his ear and throw it into the bag with his phone. But what if the AirPod disconnects and it starts playing out loud? says a little anxious voice in the back of his mind. That would be infinitely worse, and — if he had to guess — probably a fireable offence.
He musters all of his brain power to focus on what the VP is asking him, somehow answering her questions well enough despite you moaning incessantly in his ear. She appears to be satisfied with his response, and turns to exit the office.
"Oh, by the way," she says spinning back around on her heel. "About the client meeting tomorrow…"
Jihoon shifts in his seat, scooting his chair closer into his desk, praying to god that it's enough to conceal the obvious bulge developing in his khakis.
"I miss your cock, wish I was choking on it right now," you whine as the VP goes on and on about meeting details Jihoon is already well aware of. He wonders what he did to deserve this kind of personal torture.
"I want to feel it deep in my throat. Wanna choke on you until you're about to cum, then I wanna ride you until I cum on your fat cock," you continue relentlessly as you fuck yourself with your fingers. "I want you to fill me up with your cum…"
"Are you alright?" the VP suddenly asks, launching Jihoon back to reality. "You look like you're going to be sick."
"Oh, um, I'm not feeling too great," he lies. "But I'll be okay." He glances at the clock: 4:37pm. He's only been here five minutes, but it's been the longest five minutes of his fucking life.
"Ohhh," you moan in his ear, growing louder as you become more and more aroused. He imagines sitting in front of you, watching you stroke your clit as he jerks his cock in his hand. He tries to shove the thought back into the recesses of his mind, but his mouth is watering at the thought of your pussy, wet and warm and delicious—
"You should go home," he hears the VP say to him from a million miles away. "The day's almost over anyway, and I don't want you throwing up at your desk."
"Um, yeah," he agrees. "I think I'll do that."
"Oh, by the way, I'm moving our afternoon meeting tomorrow to 8am," she says as she walks out of the door, seemingly unfazed by Jihoon's miserable state. "See you bright and early!"
The moment the door shuts behind her Jihoon flops back into his seat, letting out a deep exhale as he rubs his eyes in distress. He looks down at the thick protrusion of his fully-hard cock, straining to be contained in his pants.
"I'm gonna cum soon, baby," you whimper. He thinks for a moment, knowing he should just turn it off and go home — but then decides, fuck it. He gets up and quickly locks his office door, plopping back in his seat as he finally retrieves his damn phone from his bag. He sees there's about three and a half minutes left to your voice memo, but at this point, that's more time than he even needs.
"I'm so close," your voice wavers. Jihoon unzips his pants, reaching in and wrapping his hand around his stiffened length. He strokes himself slowly, his tip leaking as his cock throbs in his grip. Your cries grow louder, and he knows he's not going to last much longer. He stops for half a second to open the front camera and take a quick photo, sending the blurry picture of his lap with his cock in his fist to you.
Look what you did to me, he types.
A few strokes more and he's on the verge of busting already. No time to find a tissue, he cups his free hand over the head of his cock, cumming into his palm as his orgasm takes over. His eyes roll back, his bottom lip between his teeth as he struggles to remain quiet, a few pathetic whimpers escaping from his throat as he listens to your symphony of moans in his ear. His head spins as he slowly comes back down to earth, listening to your heavy breaths as you too recover from your high. He releases his grip on his spent cock, bringing the hand filled with his release up to his mouth, slowly licking his own cum off his palm.
"Come over after work baby, I love you."
Your diabolical voice memo finally ends, leaving Jihoon with only the sound of his own heavy breaths. He quickly tucks his dick back into his pants, gathering his things in preparation to sprint out of the office before anyone can stop him. He pauses at the door, typing out a quick text to you.
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♱ pairing: hong jisoo x fem!reader
♱ theme: smut [18+ mdni]♱ wc: 4k
♱ warnings: blasphemy (please do not engage if this offends you), oral (m. receiving), unprotected piv sex (DON’T do this irl), fingering (f. receiving), masturbation (f.), nipple play, cum swallowing
♱ a/n: uhhhhh so i wrote this a really long time ago and just never posted it but thought i’d share !! hope u heathens enjoy hehe
You’re pretty certain going to mass every week is supposed to make you sin less, but you’re also pretty certain church isn’t supposed to involve thirsting after the hot priest behind the altar – so you decide to start going to confession.
You wouldn’t consider yourself a good Catholic.
In fact, you’re barely even a Catholic at all – you’d never been to church before in your life, but ever since moving to this small town you’ve started attending weekly mass. It’s just something everybody does here, and you don’t want the townspeople to start prying, questioning you as to why you don’t go to church. You just want to blend in and be left alone. Besides, it couldn’t hurt to start atoning for some of your sins.
That’s what you thought, anyway. You didn’t think going to church would cause you to sin more, but what was before meeting Joshua.
Father Joshua.
Seeing him that first week at mass really threw you off guard. The church is fairly small – there’s no true way of hiding, but you figured sitting in the back row would be a safe bet. Things were going pretty smoothly at first – you were singing along to the hymns to the best of your ability and flipping through the Bible provided in the back of the pew, following along with the passages. Unsuspectingly, you looked back up at the pulpit to see the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen in your life, clad in black robes, blessing the sacraments.
The first thing you noticed about the priest was how surprisingly young he was, probably in his mid-to-late-twenties. Your eyes fluttered over his features: his lips were perfectly-shaped, soft-pink in hue; his nose – defined but delicate; his eyes – big, brown, and warm. The loose strands of his dark brown hair were long, and his bangs flopped across his forehead in a way that did not seem very priestly. He was, for lack of non-blasphemous words, utterly divine.
When the other church-goers rose from their pews for communion, you felt your heart rate spike. You reluctantly lined up at the end of the queue, shuffling slowly toward the altar as each person ahead of you accepted the elements. Finally, it was your turn.
You took a step up to the priest. He held up the communion wafer, looking you directly in the eyes.
“The body of Christ.”
He spoke softly, his voice low and lovely. It was warm inside the parish, but you felt a chill run up your spine.
He lowered the wafer toward you. You started to reach for it, but he shook his head to stop you.
“Open your mouth,” he corrected. His tone was kind, his volume not more than a whisper – as not to make it obvious that you were about to make a fool of yourself.
You opened your mouth, sticking your tongue out slightly as he delicately placed the wafer on it, his fingers mere millimeters from your lips. You really wish you hadn’t locked eyes with him, but it was too far gone at this point. He let go, and you closed your mouth, accepting the communion. A flash of something you couldn’t quite decipher colored his eyes as you swallowed, but it was gone in an instant.
The whole exchange probably took less than 10 seconds, but it felt like it lasted about 500 years. You quickly turned around, breaking free from the priest’s gaze, and headed back to your seat. Your eyes were transfixed on the priest for the remainder of the mass, but you didn't process a single thing that happened.
The other church-goers began to file out of the pews as the final hymn played. You made your escape, quickly but not so quick as to be obvious that you were trying to get the fuck out of there.
You stepped through the heavy old doors and were greeted with blinding sun. People were gathering to chat with each other; you politely nodded as you passed them. You were nearly out of the crowd when you stopped suddenly at the sight of black robes immediately in front of you.
Fuck.
“I don’t believe we’ve met before,” the priest said to you with a warm smile.
He extended his hand. As you place your hand in his he takes it in with both of his hands, giving you a strong but gentle squeeze.
“I’m Joshua.” You couldn’t help but notice the cute crinkles around his eyes as the bright smile refused to leave his face. “It’s nice to have a new face in the crowd, doesn’t happen very often around here.”
“Y/n,” you replied, much more confident-sounding than you expected it would come out.
“Lovely to meet you, y/n! I take it you’re new to the Catholic Church.” His tone was free of judgment, which was a relief.
“Yeah,” you said, smiling sheepishly to try and not seem so embarrassed. “Sorry about that, I-
“No need to apologize,” Joshua interjected politely as he shook his head. “But just so you know, you respond to the Eucharist with an ‘amen’.”
In hindsight, that now seemed extremely obvious to you. Whoops.
“Oh, thank you,” you responded sincerely. “That’s good to know.”
“You’ll get accustomed to it all. Well, that is – if you continue to attend.” You appreciated how kind he was being to you.
“Yes, definitely,” you responded eagerly.
“Excellent!” he said as he clapped his hands together.
A couple of elderly ladies in fancy hats approached the Father, clearly wanting to speak with him. Joshua smiled to greet them.
Turning back to you, he gave you a slight bow.
“Again – pleasure to meet you, y/n.” It was subtle, but you didn’t miss the way he savored your name on his tongue as he spoke, locking eyes with you once more.
But surely, you were imagining things. He was a priest after all – their whole thing is celibacy.
“Peace be with you.”
“And also with you,” you replied proudly. You knew that one, at least.
Joshua beamed at you once more before turning to his new visitors.
“Doris! Margaret! Lovely to see you both, how are you?” His words trailed off as you departed. You were halfway across the church yard when you suddenly decided to glance back. You didn’t expect Joshua to see you, but he looked up at you right as your eyes fell on him. You turned quickly back around and continued on your way.
Unsurprisingly, one church service didn’t turn you into a pure being free from sin. However, you did not expect that later that night, as your vibrator hummed under your sheets, your mind would drift to a certain beautiful man in black robes – taking you places so unholy that you would almost feel guilty about it, if it didn’t turn you on so damn much. But for some reason the thoughts of fucking – no, getting fucked by a man of God atop his holy altar made you cum hard.
The thought of attending confession to atone for such blasphemy crossed your mind, but before you could even think about it you were fast asleep.
“Bless me Father, for I have sinned.”
You make the sign of the cross as you enter the confession room. The room is small – not bigger than a walk-in closet – and dimly lit. There are two chairs: one facing the partition, and one on the other side of it – facing the priest. You choose the one in front of the screen; you can’t see through, but you can make out the priest’s figure seated on the other side.
It’s been a few weeks since your first visit to the church, but this is already your third time going to confession. You’re not sure exactly how often one is supposed to go to confession, but you figure it’s more of a guilty-conscious-driven sort of thing. Not that you’re attending confession out of guilt – you do feel guilty, but only because you know the reason you keep going is sitting on the other side of the partition. Though, you have noticed the past couple times you’ve left confession you’ve felt… refreshed? You still wouldn’t consider yourself religious, but you suppose it basically kind of is free therapy.
So, here you are.
“It has been six days since my last confession.”
You divulge into the usual confession conversation, listing off any relatively-benign sins that pop up in recent memory. You’re actually starting to get the hang of the ritual, so the whole thing goes fairly smoothly. But, as you near the end of the session, the one sin at the forefront of your mind keeps intruding into your thoughts.
“I’ve also-” you start, but hesitate.
Joshua waits. You decide not to beat around the bush.
“I’ve also been struggling with… impure thoughts,” you cautiously admit.
“There’s somebody I can’t stop thinking about. Like, in a lustful way.” Your face grows hot as the words come out of your mouth. You feel stupid and this was probably a bad fucking idea. You continue anyway.
“I’m gonna be honest, I’m still pretty new to this, so I don’t know exactly what the Bible says about lusting after others. But I know it’s considered one of the seven deadly sins, which I don’t really even know what that means, but I figured… probably not good.”
“Well, I can tell you the reason they’re called ‘the seven deadly sins’,” Joshua begins. “They’re also called the ‘capital sins’: pride, greed, envy, wrath, lust, gluttony, and sloth. They’re not necessarily worse than other sins, but the reason they’re considered deadly is because they inspire further sin.”
You nod, mulling over his words in your mind. The way he speaks is always so captivating, you swear you could listen to the man talk about anything and he’d be able to make it interesting.
“So, for instance – say you are feeling lust toward another person. What kind of other sins do you think could be triggered by it?”
You think for a moment. “Well, let’s say the other person is somebody you know you can’t be with.”
“Sure, maybe this other person is married then?”
“Not… quite.”
The silhouette behind the screen pauses. You hear the faint creak of the chair as Joshua shifts slightly in his seat.
“But um, kinda similar yeah,” you add. “So if I lust after this person, then that could lead to the other person committing infidelity.”
“Exactly,” Joshua affirms.
“Right, and when someone commits…” You intend to finish that thought, but instead you decide to do a full 180. “Actually, can I ask a completely different question?”
“Oh, well sure,” Joshua replies. “I can do my best to answer.”
“Are there any sins that can’t be forgiven by God?”
“The Church teaches that there is no sin that cannot be forgiven – no matter how serious. God’s mercy is more powerful than any human ability to do evil. As long as we admit our faults and remain committed to God, our sins will be forgiven.”
“You say ‘we’ – do priests have to go to confession too?” The question slips out of you before you can think to hold your tongue. You curse yourself silently.
“Sorry – I don’t mean to get personal, I know this is about me. I’m just honestly curious.”
“It’s quite alright to be curious – in fact, I would encourage you to be curious! We all have to start somewhere after all.”
You smile to yourself. Not only is the man incredibly hot, but he’s smart and sweet too. No wonder you’re falling for the goddamn priest.
“But to answer your question – yes, priests do go to confession just like everyone else. We may be men of God, but we still struggle with earthly desires too.”
Earthly desires. Did he just imply that priests get horny too?? You shove that thought aside and try to focus.
“Makes sense,” you confirm. “I really appreciate your helpfulness, I didn’t know what to expect showing up for the first time but you’ve made me feel very welcomed here.”
You see the silhouette light up in a smile.
“I’m very happy to hear that, y/n.”
You didn’t know much about confession, but you were pretty sure it was supposed to technically be anonymous. But in a town this small, there’s no way the priest doesn’t recognize everybody. He knows that, and he knows that you know that – so you try not to take the name drop too seriously. But it undoubtedly still makes your heart flutter like an idiot.
You wrap up your session with the final prayer, thanking the priest and collecting your things. You have one hand on the doorknob when you hear, “Oh, and y/n?”
You pause, turning back around toward the faceless voice coming from behind the screen.
“If you ever want to have a casual conversation to learn more about the Church, or the Bible, or what have you – I’m always happy to help.”
You smile. You don’t know if he can see you, but you try to hide the fact that you’re blushing anyway.
“Thank you Father, I might take you up on that.”
You do, in fact, decide to take Joshua up on that.
Conveniently, you run into him pretty frequently at the local coffee brewery, so you set up shop early Saturday morning with your current book, waiting to see if he makes an appearance. As if on schedule, the doorbell chimes at 7:01am. You finish your sentence then casually glance up to see a young man in a tight black athletic shirt, grey sweatpants, and blue sneakers – presumably a runner coming back from their morning jog through the light rain. It takes you a moment to realize that the man you’re looking at is Joshua – he looks so out of place you almost didn’t recognize him. But, that sweet smile and the dimples that light up his face as he greets you with a friendly wave are unmistakable. You’re just not used to seeing him in a non-church setting, nor in casual clothes.
Especially not grey fucking sweatpants.
“Y/n! Good morning to you! Mind if I join?”
You take a glance around. The coffee shop is deserted except for you, Joshua, and the old man behind the counter, who seems to have nodded off while reading his newspaper.
“Sure!” you answer in a tone far chipper than your usual demeanor.
Joshua sits down, and you two start chatting like old friends. You’re not sure why you feel so comfortable talking with the town priest so casually, especially for not knowing him all that well, but the feeling seems to be mutual. And you’re not mad about it.
You make friendly small talk with Joshua about hobbies: outside of priest stuff he likes jogging, tennis, and – much to your surprise – he also appears to be a massive Star Wars nerd. The conversation flows naturally, and eventually you end up on the Bible, discussing everything from the teachings of John the Baptist to whatever fuckshit is going on in the book of Revelations. You may not be sold on the whole religion thing, but the way Joshua speaks so passionately about his studies is incredibly endearing – and is turning the whole not falling in love with a literal priest thing into quite a challenge.
As you leave the coffee shop after your nearly two-hour conversation, Joshua walks you to your car.
“You know,” you tell him, “You’re not what I expected for a priest. You’re really just so…”
“...normal?” Joshua finishes for you with a smile. “Yeah, I get that a lot. Some might find it unconventional, but I like to think of myself as a modern priest for a modern world. A lot of people get turned off from religion due to some of it being outdated – I believe it’s important that religion evolves with society.”
“Do other people get mad about that? Like, other priests or church officials.”
Joshua nods. “Some do. Some like to say I break too many rules,” he says with a soft laugh. “But I say to each their own.”
“I like that about you.”
You didn’t mean for that to come out sounding flirty, but you’re pretty sure it did. Shit.
But Joshua smiles at you. He looks like he’s about to say something, but then he stops.
“Thank you, y/n.”
You spend the entire drive home wondering what kind of rules it is that Joshua breaks, and if he is perhaps willing to break some more with you.
A blizzard rolls in one dark Thursday evening. You had been planning to go to confession tonight – you consider not going due to the weather, but upon realizing no one else will probably be there you decide to go anyway. You have given up trying to convince yourself you were going to confession for anything other than a chance to be alone with Father Joshua.
As expected, not a single soul is at the parish, but the lights are on so you know Joshua is there. You enter the confession room. He must have heard you coming, because you see his shadow on the other side of the screen, waiting for you.
“Bless me Father, for I have sinned.”
You go to take your usual place in front of the partition, but you pause.
“Can I… come around?” you ask tentatively.
A few moments of silence pass. “Of course,” Joshua finally answers.
You go around the partition, taking the seat directly facing the Father. Joshua shifts in his seat, hands folded over the thick leather-bound Bible in his lap. You look him directly in the eye as you begin.
“I have something to confess. And by the end, if you want me to fuck off forever just say the word and I’m out of here.”
“Y/n, you know I would never-”
“It’s specifically about you.”
Joshua stops. His big eyes, normally so warm, are filled with what can only be described as a combination of fear and desire.
“Specifically… I’m kind of in love with you.”
Joshua stares back at you. He doesn’t seem surprised by your words, but hearing you say it out loud has clearly flustered him.
“And I know that’s gotta be some advanced level of sin and I was feeling so guilty about it, but not anymore. I’ve come to terms with it, I’m admitting it to you, and I’ll promptly see myself out if you’d like me to leave. But I couldn’t go on without knowing… without knowing how you feel too.”
Joshua leans forward. The two chairs are so close your knees practically are touching. He takes your hands in his, looking you dead in the eyes – his face no more than a foot away from yours. You don’t realize you’re holding your breath.
“I’ve felt something I couldn’t explain since the day we met, y/n. Something I’ve never felt before. Something that made me…”
He pulls one of your hands toward his lap. The Bible shifts aside, and you see why he had been holding onto it so precariously. Even under the robes, his bulge is prominent. You gasp as he presses your hand onto his clothed cock, letting you feel how hard – how big he is. He lets out a moan as your hand caresses him. Your eyes dart up to meet his – the man is practically sweating, and the look in his eyes tells you he is more than ready to sin.
You slide off your chair onto the floor, kneeling before the Father.
“Are you sure about this?” you ask quietly.
Joshua says nothing, but nods. Seconds later, he’s undoing his robes, until his erection springs up before you. You take it in one hand, slowly moving along his length – you can tell he’s trying to maintain his composure, but a small moan still escapes him. You lean forward, placing your lips gently on his tip before swirling your tongue over the head. The sudden sensation of wetness causes Joshua to let out a low groan – his body, previously so tense, relaxes into his chair, his head leaning back as he places his hand atop of your hair, stroking it lightly. You circle your tongue around his tip a few more times before taking the rest of his length in your mouth. He cries out as you swallow his cock, his hand tightening its grip on your head. You begin to move your mouth up and down – slowly at first, but as your pace increases so does the pressure of his hand upon your head. You’re practically gagging on him, his length hitting you in the back of the throat as he pushes your head down onto him further and further.
Suddenly he grabs you by the hair, pulling your mouth off of his cock, your lips red and puffy and covered in spit. You look up at him with teary eyes – breathing heavily, he brushes his hand against your cheek, wiping away a tear with his thumb.
“You’re- fuck that’s so hot,” Joshua mutters, his voice hot and heavy. “Mouth feels so good on me…”
His cock throbs as you lick your tongue up his length once more.
“But… I wanna feel you,” he starts, practically begging. “Wanna be inside you.”
Immediately, you rise, unbuttoning your pants and removing them, standing before the Father in just your thin underwear – which at this point are rightfully soaked. You slide them off of you too – Joshua practically drools at the sight of your bare pussy. You pick up his hand, directing his fingers to your cunt. His cock twitches as he feels your wetness – you guide his hand as he slowly circles your clit.
“You see what you do to me, Father?”
Joshua nods fervently. He moans as you guide his fingers into your pussy, letting him feel all your wetness. He takes his hand out, placing his fingers into his mouth, savoring your juices as if he were absolutely parched.
You place your hands on his shoulders as you go to straddle his lap, your pussy mere inches above his desperate cock. You take him in your hand, placing his tip at your entrance as you lower yourself down onto him, his thick cock sliding in easily, immediately filling up your pussy.
You exhale deeply as you sit on Joshua’s cock, taking his entire length to his base. Joshua, practically whimpering, runs his hands across your breasts.
“Can I…”
You answer him by pulling your sweater off, unhooking your bra to reveal your boobs. He grabs them with both hands, squeezing them before leaning in and taking your nipple into his mouth. He sucks on the bud, running his hands across your entire body, desperately feeling every inch of you. You begin to ride him as he continues to suck on your breast – he takes your hips, guiding your body as you bounced up and down on his cock. His hips quickly start to buck as he squirms in his seat. Joshua throws his head back, moaning and crying out as his body begins to shake.
“I’m gonna cum,” he whimpers. “Please let me cum in your mouth.”
As soon as you nod, he pulls you off his cock, now utterly drenched with your juices. You hurriedly drop back to your knees, wrapping your hand around his base as you take his length in your mouth, sucking his cock while staring up at him, teary-eyed and desperate to please – and that is enough to unravel him.
He lets out a loud, long moan as his cock pulsates inside your mouth. He releases, hot ropes of cum spurting down your throat as he his hips buck into your face. You slow your pace as he finishes, his body collapsing into the chair with a satisfied sigh. He takes your hand, pulling you up with strong arms onto his lap. You gently stroke his hair as you rest your body against his, planting a delicate kiss on his cheek.
You sit there for a while, breathing in harmony as you play with his hair, and as he softly rubs your back.
“I think I might have a few additional sins to confess,” you mumble into his ear.
♡ pairing: boo seungkwan x fem!reader
♡ theme: fluff, non-idol au
♡ wc: 2.4k
♡ warnings: none
♡ a/n: seungkwan posted that picture today and i had to write a fic about it (yes, it happened again) bc i fear i am genuinely in love with him. shoutout to @nerdycheol and @tomodachiii for giving me the idea <3
The whole reason you're on vacation is so you don't have to think about men (derogatory) for a while — but a handsome stranger and a night to remember just might change that.
"I think that guy over there keeps looking at you."
Mid-bite of french fry, you realize Megan is talking to you. You look up at her, a blasé expression on your face.
"I told you, I have no interest in the male species right now," you reply. "That's the whole reason for this trip, remember?"
"I know, I know," she admits, apologetically waving her hands in the air at you. "But this one is really cute though, I'm telling you…"
You roll your eyes dismissively, but Daniela nods in agreement.
"She's right. He is pretty cute."
You sigh, but they have piqued your interest. You turn your head and peer casually around the restaurant. It's later in the evening, so it's not very crowded — the sparse tables are mostly occupied by older couples, but in the opposite corner of the room you spot a group of three guys, all seemingly around your age. The one facing you wears a loose, black button-down shirt, accompanied by a puka shell necklace. His sunkissed-pink face and his dark tousled hair, slightly dry and wavy from salt exposure, tell you he is also here on vacation. He is pretty cute, and he is definitely looking at you. The moment he notices you looking back at him, his eyes widen slightly; he quickly looks down at the phone in his hand, pretending to suddenly be very interested in whatever is on the screen.
"See? I told you," Megan says proudly as you turn back around.
"Okay, you're right. But I'm still not interested."
"Listen, I know we came here to get your mind off of… men for a bit," she starts, treading cautiously. Your ex did some pretty serious damage when he left you — you were holed up in your house for weeks before your friends finally told you to pack your bags and grab your passport. "But you're on vacation! Nothing counts here, there's no harm in having a little fun."
"True, but… I just don't know." You stare down at your plate, aimlessly stirring a fry in your ketchup.
"It's not like you have to marry him," Daniela points out. "Just go say hi and flirt with him."
You peek back at the man in the corner table again. The guy sitting beside him nudges him with his elbow. He looks up at his friend questioningly, and the friend nods his head in your direction. He glances over, making eye contact with you, and his face turns even pinker. He turns back to his friend, scolding him under his breath (but not quietly) in a foreign language, but the friend just smirks and giggles. You turn back around, the faintest peek of a grin flashing across your face.
"See!!" Megan nearly shouts, pointing at you excitedly. "You know you wanna!"
"Shhh!" you react, smacking her hand out of your face. "Stop being so loud, Jesus."
"Come on, do ittttt," Daniela prods. "Go talk to him!"
"I don't even know if he speaks English," you point out, trying to get yourself out of this, but you know it's a weak excuse.
"Y/n. It's 2025," Megan stares at you dully. "Just use your phone to translate."
"Go talk to him or I'm gonna go flirt with him first," Megan informs you, a mischievous grin on her face.
"Oh my god…" you groan. "Fine! Fine." You go to stand up, but as you scoot your chair back the man's friend materializes right next to you.
"Hi," he smiles at you, sticking his hand out. "My name is Jeonghan." You freeze at the forward gesture, but you extend your hand as you also introduce yourself; he shakes it firmly but politely.
"My friends," he says, gesturing to the other two men at the table. "Tonight we are going to…" He doesn't seem speak much English; he types something into his phone, reading off the translated word. "Yah-chut?" Confused, he taps the button. "Yacht," a robotic female voice echoes from the speaker. "Yacht tour," he finishes his sentence. He types something else into his phone. "To see the fireworks," the robot lady tells you. "Do you want to go with us?"
"We'd love to!" Megan tells him enthusiastically, answering for you. "Where is it?"
"Where is it?" Jeonghan repeats, pulling up the location on the map. He turns the screen to the three of you, showing you the little red map marker.
"Oh! That's right over here," Daniela responds, gesturing out the window down the beach. "At the docks. What time?" she asks, tapping an imaginary wristwatch.
"9pm," Jeonghan answers. You check the time on your phone: 8:46pm.
"Awesome, we'll meet you there!" Megan smiles at him.
Your friends stare at you eagerly as Jeonghan heads back to his friends.
"Shut up," you tell them before they can even say anything, but a subtle smile appears on your face. You glance back to the guys' table once more — the one in the black shirt is still eyeing you, seemingly a little embarrassed, but this time he doesn't break eye contact, giving you a soft smile in return.
"You guys know I'm afraid of boats, right?" you say to your friends as you walk down to the docks together.
"Oh hush, you'll be fine," Daniela replies. "What's the worst that could happen?"
"The boat could sink and then we all drown and die."
"At least she's not dramatic or anything," Megan remarks to Daniela.
You spot the three men waiting at the dock. Jeonghan waves as you approach, extending his arm to you. At first you think he's going in for another handshake, but you realize he's holding three small strips of paper.
"Your tickets," he says as you take them from him.
"Oh! Thank you," you respond amicably, handing one to each of your friends. "You didn't have to do that."
"Seungkwan paid," he grins, gesturing to the one who's been eyeing you all night. Seungkwan smiles sheepishly, looking down at the ground.
"Well thank you, Seungkwan," you say to him directly, memorizing the shape of his name as it rolls across your tongue. "That's very kind of you." He raises his head, focusing his eyes on yours; seeing them up close, they are big and round and attentive, sparkling dark pupils framed in warm brown irises, gazing at you softly. A rush of warmth floods your cheeks.
"Oh, you're welcome," he replies, blushing again.
One of the yacht staff approaches, handing out life vests to the group and telling everyone to follow him. He leads you down the dock to a modest-sized yacht and opens the gate. Megan goes first; you step nervously onto the gangway after her, slowing your pace as you tread up the precarious walkway, but Daniela gives you a gentle push from behind.
"Come on, you're alright," she encourages you. You make it to the deck, placing one foot onto the boat — but it sways beneath you as it bobs gently atop the water. You freeze, panicking slightly, but with a deep breath you keep going, clinging to the railing as you make your way to the front of the boat. There's a small seated area; you quickly plop onto the padded bench, sighing with relief. Megan passes you, wedging herself between you and Daniela, forcing you to scoot over next to Seungkwan, who takes a seat beside you.
"Are you okay?" His fixes soft eyes on you with concern.
"Yeah, I'm okay," you smile at him. "I've just never been on a boat before."
"Oh, first time?" he asks, making sure he understood. You nod, and he beams back at you. The boat suddenly lurches as it takes off; you flinch, instinctively grabbing his arm.
"Sorry," you quickly apologize, tucking your hands in your lap as you look away bashfully.
"It's okay," he smiles. Your stomach does a flip; he was attractive from afar earlier, but seeing him this close — he is incredibly handsome. You've never felt such a strong urge to kiss a complete stranger.
The boat sails smoothly out into the water. A breeze dances against your face as it drives into the night, cool but refreshing, as the familiar melody of a Harry Styles tune starts playing from the onboard speakers.
"Oh! I love this song!" Seungkwan tells you excitedly. As the vocals come in, he starts singing along. Despite not being fluent, he sings the lyrics almost perfectly, in perhaps the most beautiful voice you've ever heard. You stare him, mesmerized, captivated by his beauty, completely forgetting that there's anyone else on the boat besides you and him. Eventually he notices you watching him, suddenly turning shy.
"Sorry," he tells you, laughing as he covers his mouth with his hand.
"No, don't be sorry! You're amazing," you tell him, making his ears turn red. "Please keep singing."
"Thank you," he glows, smiling as he starts singing again, this time at you. It's your turn to get shy, but you can't take your eyes off of him.
The song ends, fading into the next as the boat zooms along the coastline, the lights of the town luminous as you drift past, the dark sky painted with a heavenly array of stars as the moon glows radiantly in the cloudless night. Just when you think you can't imagine a moment more magical than this, the boat slows to a stop. Two of the boat staff climb up onto the bow, hauling a large box with them. You wonder what's happening, but then a small flash sparks as they start to light the long stick-like objects retrieved from the box: fireworks. A whizzing noise fills the air as the rockets launch into the sky, exploding with a loud POP as the colorful displays of light burst in the air. You notice two other boats have parked themselves on the waves near you; they too start shooting off fireworks, and soon you are fully surrounded by a sea of majestic bursting lights. The whooshing and popping and twinkling overwhelm your senses, but in the best way — filling you with a rush of euphoria as you take it all in. Time is at a standstill, and you are on top of the world.
With a showstopping grand finale the fireworks display comes to an end. You blink away the tears that you hadn't realized were filling your eyes. Looking back at Seungkwan, you see he too is misty-eyed.
"Wow," you say to him, at a loss for words, but none need to be spoken.
"So pretty," he tells you, ostensibly about the fireworks, but you don't need to speak the same language to understand that he also means you — the way he smiles at you fondly speaks louder than words.
The boat starts up again, making its way back to the shore. Everyone else is chatting and laughing, but you and Seungkwan sit together in silence, enjoying the music and each other's company.
"Excuse me!" you hear Jeonghan call to the boat staff as as he stands up. He's holding an instant camera in his hands, extending it to the man and gesturing to the group, asking for a photo. You sit up straight, everyone leaning in together to squeeze in the shot. Seungkwan not-so-subtly rests his hand on your back, giving you an explosion of butterflies in your stomach. You lean your head against his shoulder as the staff gives the countdown.
"Alright, 3, 2, 1 — smile!"
The camera flashes brightly, whirring as it starts printing the photo.
"One more, please!" Jeonghan shouts. The light flashes again as he takes a second picture. A small wave of sadness hits you as everyone relaxes, breaking apart from their posed positions, because now you no longer have a reason to be so close to Seungkwan. He scoots slightly back to his spot, but you can tell he's thinking the same thing.
The boat parks back at the dock. Everyone exits the boat, handing the life vests back to the staff on their way out.
"Thank you so much for inviting us," you say sincerely to Seungkwan and his friends, a wide grin etched into your face. "That was such a cool experience." He doesn't understand all of the words you're saying, but he doesn't have to.
"So nice to meet you," he says to you and your friends, but his eyes stay fixed on you. Both groups linger on the docks for a bit, but the time inevitably comes for you to go your separate ways. You try not to get teary-eyed again. Everyone says goodbye, a bit awkwardly but with genuine warmth, all of you still glowing from the blissful shared experience. Just as you turn to walk away, you hear Seungkwan's voice shouting after you; it's the first (and last) time you've heard your name come from his lips, but you're enamored with the way it sounds. You turn around to see him jogging over to you.
"For you," he tells you, extending his hand to you, holding one of the polaroids delicately in his fingers. You smile, the same exuberant, joyous smile that's been on your face all night — a very welcome feeling returning to you after several weeks of having no reason to smile at all.
"Thank you so much," you reply, taking one last look at him. You bid each other goodbye once more, and then you part ways.
"I still can't believe you didn't ask him for his number," Megan tells you as you take your seats on the plane.
"I don't know, it just didn't feel right," you respond glumly. "It was such a perfect night, but I guess it needed to live in my memories only."
"Hey, at least you have the photo," Daniela reminds you. "To remind you it was real and not just a dream."
"True," you sigh. You flip through your passport until you find the polaroid wedged between the pages — for safekeeping. You smile wistfully at the six beaming faces; you are glad you have a tangible souvenir to remember that perfect night by. As you go to shut your passport, the polaroid flips. You pause, doing a double-take. There, on the back of the photo, scrawled lightly in neat penmanship:
♡ pairing: boo seungkwan x afab!reader
♡ theme: smut [18+ mdni], pwp
♡ wc: 1.7k
♡ warnings: bigdick!seungkwan, mutual masturbation, alcohol consumption, sexting, nipple play, cum eating, bit of dirty talk, whimpering (obviously), seungkwan hand appreciation pt. 293579234, seungkwan is a mega simp, lil fluff ending, petnames (baby girl, pretty girl / kwannie, good boy)
♡ a/n: this is all @haologram’s fault. ty for the inspiration bestie <3
Seungkwan has a boner that can only be fixed by a steamy facetime call with you.
Your phone died a few hours ago. It was girls’ night and you didn't think to pack your charger, but you and your besties were out barhopping, so you wouldn't have had anywhere to plug it in anyways. You stumble into your bedroom — not terribly drunk at this point, just a bit tipsy still — and plug in the device. You were expecting a handful of missed notifications, but the screen flashes as a string of texts pop up in rapid succession. Opening your messages app, you find 107 unread texts from Seungkwan.
They start out innocuous:
10:54pm
hi babe hope you're having a great night
just wanted to say hi and i love you
stay safe and text me when u get home ❤️
Nothing out of the ordinary, he always texts you pretty regularly throughout the day. But then the messages start getting more frequent — and a bit silly.
11:11pm
make a wish~
i'm wishing for you 😘
i know it's only been a few days but i miss u
11:15pm
did you know otters hold hands when they sleep so they don't float away from each other? isn't that so cute?
that’s us hehe
He texted you in bursts, with only a few minutes in between each set of messages. As if he couldn't stop thinking about you.
11:28pm
i can't stop thinking about you
you're so pretty
wanna kiss u
The further you scroll, the more suggestive the messages start to get.
11:45pm
baaaaabe
send me a selfie
wanna see how cute u look
bonus points if your boobs are in it
11:53pm
can you send me a pic of your boobs 🥺
ik you're out rn but if you happen to have an old one
pls 👉👈
12:01pm
nvm i found some :)
but i meannnn i wouldn't mind another ;)
Several more cute animal facts follow, up until about 10 minutes ago when he dropped the facade and started being straight up horny.
12:33pm
fuck i miss you
you're so hot
i'm ngl i had a few beers and now im just staring at ur nudes
god i wish i was eating you out rn
ur perfect
lmk when u get home
i need u
baby
pls text me back my dick is so hard rn
Grinning, you start typing a reply, but he responds before you can even send the text.
12:44pm
oh thank god
r u home
can i call u
Before you can write the word yes he is already facetiming you.
“Hiiiii,” you say with a giggle as you answer the call.
“You're home right? Alone?”
He looks nearly frazzled, hair unkempt and cheeks tinged pink as if he just ran a few miles. The glaring redness of his ears gives away his inebriated state.
“Yep,” you answer as you plop onto your bed.
“Okay good.”
He tilts the camera downward, showing you the thick bulge in his sweatpants.
“I'm so fucking horny right now.”
“Yeah, I guessed that much,” you grin.
He cups his hand around his bulge, groaning at the slightest pressure.
“Touch yourself for me,” he begs. “I wanna watch you cum. Please.”
The desperation in his voice makes your core ache. You raise the phone in your hand, angling the camera to show your body. The low-cut crop top you wore out shows off your boobs nicely; you grab one breast and caress it, causing Seungkwan to let out a low hum.
"Take your shirt off, baby," he pleads, stroking his cock slowly through the fabric.
"Patience, love," you coo at him. "What's the rush?" you add teasingly.
He lets out a laugh, accompanied by an eye roll. "The rush is that I've been trying not to nut in my pants all night, that's what."
"Aww you were waiting for me, such a good boy."
"Fuck," he growls, clenching his jaw. "Don't tell me that, are you trying to kill me?"
You smirk, blowing a kiss at the camera. Slowly, you pull your top down, letting your breasts fall free. You play with your nipples, already perky from being turned on and hardening further at the exposure to the cool air.
"God, you're so hot," he tells you, practically drooling. "Hang on."
He sets his phone on the desk in front of him, positioning himself in the frame so you can see his face. He scoots the chair back slightly, showing you his clothed erection, looking even larger from this angle. Reaching into his pants, he groans as he wraps his hand around his girth and pulls his cock out — it's thick as ever, its length flourished with pretty veins, its head flush and leaking with precum. He gives himself a few slow strokes, making his eyelids flutter and a delicious moan escape his lips. He opens his eyes, fixing them on you again, gazing at you with uncontrollable lust as his large hand grasps his cock tightly. You slide your hand down to your lap, dragging your fingertips softly up your inner thigh and reaching underneath your skirt. You smile deviously as you bite your lip.
"Oh I'm so wet right now," you inform him smugly. His grip tightens even further, squeezing his cock as a shiny bead of precum dribbles down its side. If his face was pink before, it is now an angry shade of red, the slight sheen of his sweat making him glow. "Wanna see?"
"Please," he begs, his voice nearly cracking.
You lift the skirt's hem, the garment sliding up over your hips as you spread your legs, revealing your bare, glistening pussy. Seungkwan's eyes nearly pop out of his head.
"Oh my fucking god, were you not wearing any panties all night??"
"Nope," you reply proudly. He reaches across the desk for something — you hear the squirting sound of the lube bottle, then watch as he spreads the shiny liquid over his cock. His head falls back against the chair as he starts pumping his fist up and down his length.
"God," he groans. "I'm glad you didn't tell me that, I would've shown up at the bar and fucked you in the bathroom right then and there."
Beaming at him, and quite pleased with yourself, you glide two of your fingers over your cunt, letting out a soft moan as they brush your sensitive clit. You collect the pooling juices on your fingers and lift them to your mouth, licking them clean — prompting Seungkwan to let out a string of pathetic noises.
"Fuck, that's hot," he says through gritted teeth.
With a smirk you spit on your fingertips and lower your hand again, adding the additional wetness to your already-soaked folds. You begin to play with your clit, tracing gentle circles around the bud, but it's already throbbing relentlessly. A firey ache burns through your gut as you watch Seungkwan stroke himself — faster now, as he urgently seeks relief from several hours of being painfully hard.
"I wish you were here Kwannie," you croon at him, slowly sliding your fingers into your cunt. It feels good, but not as good as when he does it. "Want your pretty hands inside me."
"You like when I fuck you with my fingers, don't you baby girl?" His voice is breathy, shaking slightly as his hand rises and falls in his lap.
"Yeah," you respond earnestly, your voice equally quivering. "They're so long and big and pretty, fills me up so good…"
Your words trail off, replaced with blissful moans as you return to your clit. Your fingertips work quickly, flicking across the bundle of nerves as juices drip from your hole. You stare at Seungkwan through the screen, wriggling in his chair as he grows unbearably horny — he licks his lips as he stares back, eyes glazed over as his climax nears.
"I'm so close," he moans. His hand flies up and down his length, mouth slightly ajar as he whimpers. The sound is so pitiful, so pathetic — your toes curl as the burning in your gut swells.
"I'm gonna cum," you whine.
"Cum for me, pretty girl."
You cry out as an electric current surges through you, your entire body trembling with waves of pleasure. You ride out your orgasm, forcing your eyes open so you can maintain eye contact through the screen. Seungkwan gawks at you, not knowing where to look: your pretty, opened mouth with your quivering lips; your supple breasts bouncing perfectly as your body shakes; your perfect, soaked pussy as it pulses; all of you — so perfect.
"Oh fuuuuck," Seungkwan groans. His eyes roll back into his head as he cums with you, gasping as thick white ropes shoot into the air. He grasps his cock in his fist as his hand stills, squeezing tight as it pulses with each release. His chest rises with heavy breaths as he finishes, his eyes still fixated on you as cum drips down his length and all over his hand. He brings his fingers up to his lips, licking the spilt cum off his knuckles and swallowing it, before dropping his arm again and sinking into the chair in his relaxed state.
"I love you," he mumbles, a lazy, blissed-out grin plastered on his face. You giggle, the rush of euphoria still making your head spin in the best way.
"Hey!" he exclaims. "Don't laugh!"
"I'm not! You're just so cute," you smile as you stare at him lovingly, eyelids growing heavy as sleepiness washes over you. "I love you too."
"What are you doing tomorrow?" he asks suddenly.
"Nothing, why?"
"Great, I'm going to come over and fuck you all day," he announces matter-of-factly, making you burst out laughing. He gives you a sheepish look.
"If that's okay with you," he adds.
"Of course, silly," you grin. A yawn overtakes you; you roll over onto your side and get comfy.
"Perfect," Seungkwan replies, his soft doe eyes gazing at you affectionately. "Get some sleep babe. I'll see you first thing tomorrow."
🪐 pairing: chwe hansol x gn!reader
🪐 theme: sci-fi/horror au
🪐 wc: 13.9k
🪐 warnings: suspense, scary imagery, mild gore (nothin crazy), minor character death, doppelgangers, lots of talk about goo, wistful yearning, some good old fashioned angst.
🪐 a/n: here it is!!! my longest work to date!! this fic is inspired by the movie Alien (1979), one of my all time favs - and who better to star in it than our favorite Movie Guy™️ chwe hansol. i truly had so much fun writing this, definitely made some stuff up about space ships and physics along the way but i hope u find the world of this fic to be immersive, intriguing, and best of all - spooky!! :) huge shoutout to @haologram for beta reading and @miniseokminnies for being my writing buddy and listening to me go insane ♡
You’ve been Captain of the Atlas IV for five years now, so a months-long interstellar cargo haul like this one is standard work for you. But when you’re mysteriously woken prematurely from your cryogenic sleep-stasis to find yourself still in the middle of deep space, nowhere near your destination planet, it’s up to you and your Pilot to figure out what triggered the Emergency Revival System - before it’s too late.
hisssssss
Your brain begins to awaken as you re-enter consciousness. Somewhere in the back of your mind you recognize the sound of the sleep pod unlocking, signaling your long journey through the depths of space must be coming to an end - but right now the only thing you can think about is how dead you feel. Waking up after such a long, artificial sleep is always physically challenging, but nothing you’re not used to by now. You give yourself a couple minutes to lay there, still half-lucid, letting your body slowly readjust from the months-long cryogenic sleep cycle. You listen to the ambient sounds of the ship. The noise is loud, but low - mere background noise that you’ve grown accustomed to. The mechanical rumbling of the engine amidst the otherwise silent ship brings you a strange sense of comfort, a contrast to the usual chatter of the crew and beeping and blooping of machinery. You decide to take a few more moments to enjoy the peace and quiet before you have to get back to work.
Suddenly, you are flooded in the sterile brightness of the ship’s interior lighting as the capsule lid is opened - nearly blinding you even behind closed eyelids. You reluctantly open your eyes to, to see-
A face, staring down at you.
You jump a little. You blink a few times as you sit up, still processing the identity of the face’s owner. Then it registers: it’s your Pilot.
“Jesus Hansol, you fucking scared me.”
“Sorry, Captain,” he apologizes. He just stands there, upright, so still that he could be mistaken for a mannequin if you weren’t paying too much attention.
“Why are you standing over my pod?" you grumble, still adjusting to being roused so abruptly.
He looks at you, his demeanor calm as always - but based on the concerned look in his eyes, you guess he’s going to tell you that there’s a bit of a problem.
“We have a bit of a problem.”
“Yeah, I guessed that much. What-”
Before you can ask anything, he’s already spun around on his heels, making a beeline back to the cockpit. You stumble out of the pod and quickly don your coveralls before hurrying after him.
You enter the control room, its many processors and screens humming all around you. At first glance, everything seems fine - all machines are fully operational, no blinking lights, no alerts going off. Somehow, you find this more worrying than if all the alarms were blaring.
Hansol hovers over the main computer. You join him, stepping up next to him to get a good look at the screen. To an untrained eye it would be incomprehensible, but you could interpret the map in your sleep. You take one look at the coordinates and the issue is glaringly obvious.
“Shit.”
Your whisper is barely audible, but Hansol gives you a stoic nod.
“Yeah.”
You’ve captained the Atlas IV for five years now - you’ve been on so many of these routine, months-long cargo expeditions that you’ve stopped keeping count; every last detail of its operations is ingrained in your memory at this point. The ship is programmed to wake up the crew in stages upon entering a 0.5 parsec orbital radius of the destination planet (Pilot first, Captain next, and then the remaining crew), allotting plenty of time to communicate with the ground crew and prepare for landing.
However, the blinking blue light indicating the ship’s position is nowhere near the destination planet. It’s not even near any planet - you are in the middle of fucking nowhere.
The system is designed to wake the crew early if an emergency arises - a critical built-in safety measure - but there’s no emergency. Aside from the fact that you’re deep in interstellar space, there doesn’t even appear to be a minor issue at hand.
You look up at Hansol, who is patiently awaiting your response.
“Why was the Emergency Revival System triggered?” you ask hesitantly.
He stares at you for a second before responding.
“I don’t know.”
“And is anything malfunctioning? At all?”
He shakes his head.
“I’ve run all diagnostics twice - nothing. If there’s a problem somewhere, it’s undetectable.”
You grimace. Hansol lets out a sigh. You both know you only have one option here.
“Well, guess we better start combing the place. Find the problem ourselves.”
He nods resolutely. You head to the supply room together, gearing up in silence. You grab as many tools as you can carry - anything you might need to repair… whatever the issue is.
“Alright, I’ll start at the fore, you start at the aft. Take your comms - radio me if you find anything, no matter how trivial.”
You prepare to head out, but the silence filling the room stops you. You turn around to see Hansol, geared up head to toe with supplies, holding two pulse rifles. He extends one to you.
“Why-”
“Just in case.”
“We’re the only ones here, and everyone else is still in stasis. Who would I possibly need to shoot?”
“Nobody. But you never know what you might come across.”
“Hansol if there was anyone, or… anything else on this ship we would know about it,” you reply, but not confidently. You know he’s right. Weird shit happens in deep space sometimes - better safe than sorry. You take the rifle.
“Be careful, y/n.”
Normally if a subordinate addressed you informally, you would scold them. You have a good camaraderie with your crew, but you still demand respect. But you and Hansol have known each other for years - although you were never super close, you were still in the same class at the Academy. You did all your basic trainings together - and that kind of shit builds an unspoken bond. You wouldn’t necessarily consider him a friend, but truthfully you do see him as your equal. Being on a first name basis with him just comes naturally.
You give him a firm nod. “You too.”
He clips his rifle to his utility belt. “Meet you in the middle. Unless I find something first.” He shoots you a playfully-smug grin. “Which I will.”
You roll your eyes, but you grin back at him. “Hey, take your fucking time, it’s not a competition.”
“I know,” he says as he exits the room. His voice echoes from the hallway. “But I’m still gonna win.”
[two hours later]
You wipe the sweat from your brow as you shut the large panel door. You’ve checked what feels like a million controls and systems at this point, but - frustratingly - everything appears to be in order. Still no insight into what’s going on.
With an exhausted groan you sit on the ground, leaning your head back against the wall. You grab your canteen and chug some water. This type of work isn’t hard, but it’s fucking tiring. Not to mention boring as hell. At least you have an old mp3 player to keep you company, but you’re still too alone with your thoughts for your liking. As level-headed as you normally are, your mind can’t help but wander, imagining every terrible thing that could possibly happen. You try to push those thoughts aside, knowing you’re probably overthinking it. But the worries still linger.
You close your eyes, zoning out to the sound of David Bowie’s voice in your ears:
I, I can remember (I remember)
Standing, by the wall (by the wall)
And the guns, shot above our heads (over our heads)
And we kissed, as though nothing could fall (nothing could fall)
And the shame, was on the other side
Oh we can beat them, for ever and ever
Then we could be Heroes, just for one day
“Captain! Come in Captain!”
You jolt upright. You curse yourself, realizing you must have drifted off to sleep for a bit. It takes you a moment to process where the voice is coming from - but then you notice the red light of your comms lighting up on your wrist.
“Hansol, come in.” you reply, bringing your arm up to your face.
“Geez, I was starting to think something happened to you.”
“Sorry, was just taking a rest. What’s up?”
“I found… something.”
“What do you mean ‘something’?"
“It’s easier if you see for yourself. Meet me in Cargo Bay 7.”
“Roger, on my way.”
The large pneumatic doors to the cargo bay open with a deep whoooosh. The coldness of the hangar stings your face as you step into the freezing room. Hansol’s head pokes up from behind several rows of large crates, his breath visible in the frigid air. He waves you over to him.
“What is it?” you inquire as you approach him, but as you step around to where Hansol is facing, you see it. Along the side of the crate, where the door is meant to be sealed shut, is a large hole ripped through the multilayered titanium walls. The shredded-up metal protrudes outwards in a peculiar manner, almost as if…
You lean in to get a closer look at the busted door. Hansol’s arm instinctively shoots out in front of yours to stop you from getting too close.
“Be careful - we don't know what's in there.”
You give him a firm nod. You retrieve a crowbar from your toolkit, sticking it into the small opening. Hansol lifts his pulse rifle into position, pointing it at the crate. Slowly you heave the large door open.
The beam of your flashlight illuminates the crate’s interior. In the center of the crate sits a biocapsule - not unlike the ones you use to enter stasis during long journeys, though notably larger. The capsule’s exterior is fitted with several, heavy-duty locking devices that appear to have been inadequate, given that the glass lid is almost entirely missing, accounting for the thick shards of broken glass strewn all over the floor. Dozens of tubes and wires connect the capsule to various bizarre pieces of machinery, presumably keeping its former occupant in stasis or something of the like. But now, it is vacant. Whoever - or, whatever - was in there, is gone.
“Okay, this is fucking weird,” you say, turning to Hansol. “Live cargo isn’t even permitted on this ship. What do the logs have listed for this shipment’s contents?”
Hansol lifts his arm and activates what looks like a sleek wristwatch. The watch projects its hologrammatic display into the air in front of his face, featuring a small keyboard. He types in the crate’s serial number into the interface.
“Um,” he starts, his face remaining placid, but you can see the confusion in his eyes. “There’s no record of this container in the system.”
“Like… at all?”
He types in the number again, checking if he made a mistake. But the projected screen once again only says 0 results found.
“Nothin’.”
You furrow your brow. That should be impossible - crates go through two checkpoints to ensure they are registered correctly before they are even allowed on the ship.
“Search the lot number.”
He types AT-07 into the device. It brings up the general cargo bay information - shipments are sorted into different bays depending on the type of contents they carry.
“‘General Plumbing Equipment’,” he reads from the screen.
You let out a short laugh.
“Plumbing equipment my ass.”
“Yup,” Hansol agrees. “This has gotta be contraband.”
Despite all the weird shit that’s been going on, the man has remained cool as a cucumber the whole time. You’re reminded why you’ve hand-selected him to be your Pilot for the last six missions.
“So, we have no idea what this is or where it even came from.”
Hansol nods. “Affirmative.”
You take a closer look at the hole. Crude, jagged edges line the gashes where the wall was torn asunder. Worse, however - deep scratches lay engraved around the hole’s perimeter, distinctly made in sets of three; they look eerily like claw marks. It looks exactly like what you’d expect a titanium crate to look like if something large broke out of it. But, the impenetrable thickness of the walls renders the crate nearly indestructible. Whatever being was held here - it is capable of gargantuan strength.
“What could have possibly done this?” you ask - not necessarily to Hansol, for you know he doesn't know either. You really would rather not find out, but that doesn't seem like an option at this point.
Hansol stares into the bizarre crate, mind racing with theories and questions.
“I don’t know, but I don’t like it.”
You turn to face your Pilot. His demeanor is unchanged, but he looks undeniably concerned. As are you.
“Well. What now?”
Hansol gives a slight shrug.
“It's your call, boss.”
“Right,” you sigh. Being in charge of decision-making is something you've gotten very good at over the years, but it certainly is a burden sometimes.
A sudden few beeps resonate from Hansol’s wristband. He lifts his arm to read the notification.
“The rest of the crew is waking up now,” he informs you.
“Shit. We better go brief them on the situation.”
Hansol nods in agreement. He puts his flashlight back on his tool belt and pulls his pulse rifle up again - safety still on, but ready to fire if needed. You do the same, silently praying to any god who might be listening that you won't need to use it.
But you're not too optimistic about that.
You head back up to the sleeping quarters to find the four other members of your crew mulling about - most still pretty dazed and grumpy from the waking process. Your Lieutenant, Jones, is the only one who doesn’t look like they want to kill somebody.
“Captain,” she greets you with a salute.
“Alright, listen up,” you command your squad, cutting right to the chase.
“We have a bit of a situation,” you start. Your crew is focused, listening attentively, but a nervous air of tension hovers in the room. Those are definitely not the words they were hoping to hear.
“First off, we’re not at the destination planet. Not even close.”
Hushed murmurs echo throughout the room. You continue.
“Chwe and I have not yet identified the source that triggered the Emergency Revival System. We did, however, find something of interest.”
You glance over at your Pilot. He gives you a subtle nod of assurance.
“A crate in one of the storage rooms was… breached," you start, trying to give as unalarming an explanation as you can manage. But, you know your crew isn’t stupid.
“To speak candidly, I have reason to believe this crate - which is missing from the ship’s logs - was transporting some kind of contraband life form.”
“Life form?” chimes in your Sergeant, Ridley. “What kind of life form?”
“Unclear,” you respond. “I don’t know exactly what I saw, but the crate seemed to be some kind of stasis chamber. Now, there is no reason to panic just yet. But I want everyone to remain vigilant, so I am issuing a Code Gray until we have an all-clear.”
A few subdued grumbles roll through your crew, but everybody knows it’s the right call. Code Gray indicates a potential hazard to the wellbeing of the crew or ship - not yet an emergency, but could quickly become one if things take a turn for the worse.
“Alright, let’s get going people,” you say, clapping your hands together. “Jones and Ridley, take the mid decks. Liang and Destin, lower decks. Follow code protocol, you know the drill. And radio if you find anything, no matter how small.”
The crew disbands, splitting off into designated pairs and gearing up for duty. As the duos depart, you nudge your head up at Hansol, signaling for him to follow you.
“Let’s go back to the cargo bay,” you tell him quietly. “I want to investigate every inch of that crate.”
You spend at least an hour poring over the crate’s contents, learning frustratingly little about its former occupant. All you can really tell is that the capsule was built to accommodate an individual approximately 8-9 feet tall, slender, with undeniably alien proportions. Your biggest lead is the mainframe - you’re not able to view any of its contents, as it appears to require an eye scan and a passcode, but you recognize the display language to be Acheron. Unfortunately, neither you nor Hansol can read a single word of it - and while it’s not the most ubiquitous language in the known galaxy, it’s still fairly widespread, only narrowing down possible origins to a minimum of 500,000 different star systems. But, it’s at least a start.
The only other discovery you make of potential interest is a thick, black, slimy residue coating the various internal components of the capsule. You collect several samples, scraping it into miniature vials for analysis.
“Well, let’s hit up the lab,” you tell Hansol as you wrap up your painstakingly thorough investigation. “I don’t think we’re going to find much else in here.”
“Should we send everyone an update?” he inquires.
You raise an eyebrow at him. “What exactly are we going to tell them? All we can say for certain right now is that it’s big and gooey.”
Hansol scrunches his nose in disgust.
“Please don’t say ‘big and gooey’.”
A subtle smile creeps onto your face. “Big and gooey,” you repeat.
“Blech,” he grumbles, pretending to gag - but the tiniest upward curvature of the ends of his lips breaks his facade.
“Let’s get these samples analyzed,” you say as you pack the vials into a red plastic bag bearing the words CAUTION: BIOHAZARD. “I don’t like how much time is passing without us getting any answers.”
“Do you remember that time at the Academy when you nearly killed that guy during a drill?”
The trek to the ship’s biolab has so far been traversed in silence, the only sound present other than the ambient rumbling of the engines being the muted echoes of boot-steps as you and Hansol walk down a seemingly endless number of corridors.
“Oh my god,” you groan. “I couldn’t forget about that if I tried. And trust me, I have.”
A wide grin spreads across Hansol’s face. One thing about your Pilot: you can always know exactly what he’s thinking by his expression. You know for a fact that it’s not that he can’t hide it - he simply doesn’t feel the need to.
“I still can’t believe I set my comms on the wrong channel,” you lament, shaking your head in embarrassment. “Did NOT get the memo that the drill was long over.”
“That’s why Sergeant Briggs personally went searching for you. We all thought you died.”
“Nope, not dead. Just an idiot,” you sigh. “And then he scared the shit out of me and I almost blasted him in the head.”
“Hey, we all make mistakes,” Hansol reassures you. “And in the end nobody got hurt, that’s what’s important.”
“You’re right,” you sigh in agreement. “Some mistake though, huh?” Hansol says nothing, but smiles.
You walk a few moments without conversation, but the silence feels too heavy. You’re not one to make small talk - but in the quiet your mind starts to wander, and now is not the time to let your nerves get the best of you.
You turn your head toward Hansol. “What the hell made you think of that, anyway?” you ask, the question genuinely on your mind anyway.
“Oh.”
Hansol looks up. His eyebrows scrunch a bit as he stares off down the hallway, seemingly deep in thought. He muses for a moment, then nods to himself.
“I felt similar then, like I’m feeling right now,” he tells you, his eyes still lingering in the distance. “I wouldn’t call it fear - I’m not scared. But there’s certainly the same… palpable sense of dread. And the anxiety of not knowing.”
He looks back at you. You meet his gaze, struck by the unexpected gravity of his answer. Despite knowing Hansol for years, he’s never opened up to you like this before. It’s not that he had anything to hide - he’s always been honest and communicative, and you trust him with your life. But, this conversation feels deeper, more intimate than any you've had with him in the past. Your eyes linger on his for a moment, unsure what to say, but as the next airlock whooshes open your attention shifts to the figure at the end of the corridor. It’s your Engineer, Liang, her back turned to you as she faces the next airlock - but given that she was assigned to search the ship’s lower quadrant with Destin, your Science Officer, her presence on the upper decks catches you off guard.
“Liang,” you call out, your voice carrying in a hollow echo down the long corridor. Her head snaps around to face you with startling speed. She stares back at you for several seconds, unmoving, before twitching slightly to stare at Hansol. Then, she bolts - disappearing into the adjacent corridor in the blink of an eye.
You glance at Hansol, who stares back at you equally confused.
“What was that about?” he questions. You lift your comms and page the Engineer.
“Liang? Come in, Liang.”
A couple moments later her voice rings through the device.
“What’s up, Captain?”
“Is everything okay? What are you doing in the upper decks?”
“I’m not in the upper decks,” she replies matter-of-factly. “Me and Destin are down on Deck 27 still. Haven’t found anything yet, though.”
You and Hansol stare at each other for a moment. The figure you just saw was undeniably Liang - her short stature and fiery red hair were a dead giveaway.
You switch the comms to all channels.
“Atlas Crew, report back with your positions,” you order the whole team.
A curt female voice rings through the comms. “Jones here, me and Ridley are on Deck 14, nearing the engine rooms.”
“Ridley here,” replies a deep voice. “Ditto.”
“Destin reporting from Deck 27,” a second male voice replies. “I’m here with Liang.”
A sinking feeling swells in your gut as the realization sets in: nobody is even remotely close to you and Hansol right now.
Your mind starts to race, but now is not the time to stand here and think. You raise your pulse rifle at the ready and motion for Hansol to follow you.
“Who the hell is up here with us, then?” he asks as he marches beside you with haste.
“I don’t know, but I don’t like this one bit,” you mutter as you head toward the corridor the figure vanished into. “Something feels very off here."
The pneumatic door to the connecting corridor is sealed, but not locked. It opens as you approach it, revealing a short, dimly lit passageway leading to a handful of Emergency Ejection Modules. The gargantuan ship has many such escape pod installments - fortunately, you’ve never had to use any of them, but they do offer a sense of security when you’re stuck on board for months on end. However, their quiet stillness feels eerie as you peer down the vacant hallway, their glowing red standby lights glaring ominously back at you through the darkness. As you and Hansol slowly move down the corridor, you notice a faint, mellow beep resonating in the distance. Then, you see it: the lights of the furthest Module blinking slowly, in sync with the beeping sound. In glowing green text, the panel screen beside the pod’s airlock displays the words MODULE DEPLOYED. You tap the screen and pull up the record log; sure enough, the pod is gone - deployed not even one minute ago from this terminal.
WHOOOOSH
Startled, you jump slightly at the loud sound coming from behind. You whip your head around to see the pneumatic door sliding open, gatching the briefest glimpse of a large, dark shadow fleeing the corridor.
You cock your pulse rifle and charge after the figure, bursting back into the vivid light of the main corridor to see… nothing.
Hansol appears beside you in a flash, but also stops in his tracks. The hall is far too long for anyone to have escaped on foot already, and the airlock behind you wasn’t opened. Whoever you’re chasing after has seemingly vanished into thin air.
“Atlas Crew, come in,” you call as you raise your comms. “I’m issuing a Code Orange effective immediately. Engage shipwide lockdown protocols and be on high alert. Rendezvous at the bridge ASAP.”
“Affirmative,” three voices reply one after the other.
“Affirmative,” Jones responds a moment later. “What’s going on, Captain?”
“I’ll explain when we get there, but be on high alert.” You glance nervously at Hansol, finding an equal amount of fear in his eyes. Somehow, you find it reassuring. You raise your arm once more to speak into the comms.
“There’s somebody else on this ship with us.”
“I just don’t understand,” Jones says as she reads the biologistics report on the screen for the fifth time. “There’s not a single biometric signal readout on this entire ship except for the six of us. If there were another human present on this ship - or any being for that matter - we would know about it even if they were dead.”
Your crew is gathered in the main control room on the bridge. You just finished giving them a detailed rundown of what you saw, relaying the uncanny events exactly as you witnessed them.
“And you’re sure it was me you saw?” Liang repeats, her brow furrowed.
“100%,” Hansol confirms. “They looked exactly like you. And besides, you’re the only one here with bright red hair.”
She lets out a somber laugh. “Fair enough. But it’s not like evil doppelgangers actually exist, and we’ve confirmed there’s no other living beings on board. So… you must have been seeing things right?”
“I don’t know,” you reply with a frown. “We both saw the exact same thing though.”
“You’re forgetting the missing creature.”
You turn, shifting your focus to the voice across the room. You see Destin, who had been silent until now. He sits hunched over in his chair, elbows balancing on his legs as he rests his chin upon his clasped hands. His legs bounce slightly in his usual anxious manner.
“What about it?”
“Nobody’s found the thing that escaped that crate,” he reminds the group.
“True,” you respond. “But whatever it is has to be dead by now. There’s no trace of it at all.”
“That’s just it, though.” His legs still as he sits up straight, resting his palms upon his knees. “Like Jones just said - if there were someone else on the ship we would know about it even if they were dead.”
The room fills with silence as everyone sinks deep into thought. Your mind races, trying to think of any logical explanation to any of this - but nothing makes sense.
“What about the Emergency Ejection Module?” Ridley finally asks, looking toward you and Hansol. “You guys said one was deployed as a decoy, but what if somebody… something was on it after all?”
Hansol quickly strides over to the nearest terminal, a blue glow illuminating his face as he pulls up the interface. His fingers fly as he speedily types upon the keypad. Every escape pod is equipped with a tracking device and a biometric monitor built in as a safety precaution; he hones in on the ejected module.
“I’ve located the pod.”
You hurry over to the terminal and look at the screen. Unfortunately, there’s no good news.
“It’s currently 0.02 parsecs from the ship. No sign of life on board. Or death.” His shoulders drop as he closes out the terminal in defeat. “There’s nothing.”
“Okay, so whoever we saw on the upper decks is still on the ship,” you state. “And we have an unknown specimen on the loose who is evading all detection. The most logical explanation is that the specimen is our mystery guy. But that doesn’t explain why they looked exactly like Liang. That part is…”
“Unsettling,” Hansol finishes your sentence for you. You nod in agreement.
Jones stares at the computer screen, reading the metrics over and over again in hopes of a revelation, but she knows the effort is futile. She shakes her head and turns the screen off with a sigh. “The way I see it, whatever escaped the crate is some kind of unknown biological specimen that can either shapeshift or induce hallucinations. Or maybe it’s advanced android technology. Regardless, we should still be able to detect something. But there’s not even a residual trace of electromagnetic radiation we can’t account for. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Chwe and I were on our way to the lab to analyze the substance we found in the crate,” you inform the crew. “Hopefully a molecular analysis will provide some insight into whatever the fuck is going on here.”
“I sure hope so,” Jones grimaces. “I’m not one to be superstitious, but I have a bad feeling about all of this.”
“What do you want us to do, boss?” Ridley asks from across the room. “While you guys run the tests?”
“Try and track down where that crate came from,” you tell him. “The mainframe language is in Acheron - that’s all I could glean, but start there and see if you can narrow down potential origin planets.”
You turn to the others. “Destin, you’re with me and Chwe. We need your expertise. Jones, Liang - try and figure out why we aren’t able to detect it. Search the scientific database - there’s gotta be something we’re missing.”
“What’s the protocol if we encounter the specimen?” Hansol’s voice resonates from behind. You turn, finding his eyes locked on you - focused and attentive.
“We know barely anything about it,” you respond, addressing the whole crew. “We don’t know its intentions or motives. But in an abundance of caution, assume the subject to be hostile. Set pulse rifles to stun - we don’t want to cause it any unnecessary harm. Worst case scenario, though…”
You hesitate. For all you know, whatever this species is may be friendly, intelligent. You certainly have a hunch that it has high intelligence - but as for friendly… Your gut tells you otherwise. And above all else, your duty is to protect your crew.
“If it comes down to it,” you continue, “do not put your life in jeopardy. Use your best judgement. Shoot to kill only as a very last resort.”
Several “yes, Captain”s are solemnly murmured through the room. Every member of your crew has years of experience under their belt, and you were all thoroughly trained for any type of situation. But simulated drills at the Academy, while intense, are nothing compared to the real thing - and none of you have ever experienced any true threats on a mission before.
Except for Hansol.
You don’t know the details. He’s never offered them, nor have you ever asked. But you know through the chatter of colleagues that one of his past missions involved an emergency on board, and - allegedly, according to some - one of the crewmates did not survive. Your gaze falls on him once more: still calm and collected, focused and taking his job seriously as usual. But his focus on you is more intense than you’re used to, and you detect a somber aura looming around him. You find yourself wanting to pat him on the arm, to tell him everything’s going to be okay. But, although you care greatly for each member of your crew, you know that would be starkly unprofessional. You cannot let your personal connection to Hansol cloud your attention right now.
And besides, you can’t tell him that anyway, because you don’t even know if you believe it yourself.
“These readouts are incredible - like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”
You and Hansol stare at the monitor as Destin pulls up the lab results. You both have a fairly extensive background in science, as everyone who graduates from the Academy does, but the overwhelming jumble of data readouts on the screen are far beyond your paygrade. So you let your Science Officer do the interpreting.
“99% of all life discovered in the galaxy so far is carbon-based - it’s one of the most abundant elements in the universe, so that makes sense. But this specimen has a silicon-based biochemical makeup. Now, we have seen a few silicon-based lifeforms from a few remote planets, but all of them thus far have been primitive, relatively speaking,” he explains. “We’re talking mostly single-celled organisms. There’s been a small handful of multicellular silicon-based species discovered, but nothing more complex than bacteria or algae. Certainly nothing like the large and presumably-advanced specimen that’s running amok on the ship right now. But look at this…”
He pulls up a 3D image rendering of what you can only assume must be the creature’s DNA - but it’s nearly unrecognizable as such. The main culprit is its triple-helix structure - something that’s been theorized as potentially possible, but has never actually been seen before in nature. Though, the bizarre molecular formations you’re staring at makes you wonder if this creature is even naturally-occurring - it’s so strange that it almost makes you think it must have been engineered in a super-advanced laboratory, on some planet unknown to science.
“Obviously, the triple helix is astounding in and of itself,” Destin continues. “But even stranger is there is no water present in its chemical composition.”
“No water?” Hansol echoes, a perplexed expression etched onto his face. “Like, at all?”
“None whatsoever,” Destin confirms. “There are some known species who use ammonia as a solvent - which makes sense, because ammonia and water are both polar molecules, so their structure is similar. But this specimen appears to use methane as a solvent instead. Which, it’s a hydrocarbon, so that is theoretically possible, but with its tetrahedral structure…”
He glances over to you and Hansol, seeing that he’s starting to lose you in his technical jargon. He shakes his head, abandoning the in-depth explanation.
“Basically, this creature is theoretically possible. But for all intents and purposes, it shouldn’t exist.”
The laboratory air hangs still around the three of you as nobody speaks for several prolonged moments. An unnerving chill runs through your body - you thought you would feel better after gathering more information, but at this point you feel even worse. None of these findings comfort you in the slightest.
“Well, at least we have a lead here,” Hansol points out, breaking the silence. “We can eliminate a large majority of possible origin planets.”
“True,” Destin agrees. “It’s a good start. But I have a feeling based on this completely unfamiliar biochemistry that we might be dealing with an unregistered planet here.”
You frown, but you know he’s right. You may have narrowed your search down, but the answers you’ve found thus far have only led to more questions.
“There’s one more thing.”
Destin types on the interface again. An empty chart pops up on the screen.
“These are the readouts on the spectrometry analysis.”
“It looks blank,” you tell him, confused.
“Yeah. It is.”
He turns back to you, the wrinkles on his forehead more prominent than normal.
“That’s not a mistake - the test was completed. The results are either nonexistent or off the charts, neither of which makes any sense. Basically, all living beings produce bioelectric fields, giving off some form of radiation. Radio, infrared, our visible spectrum, ultraviolet - wherever it is on the electromagnetic spectrum, there should be detectable waves. But there’s nothing.”
“How is that possible, then?” Hansol asks.
“I don’t know,” Destin responds quietly. “I can’t even begin to reason why this might be the case. But this must be why we aren’t able to detect it.”
He looks anxious, and you don’t blame him. It’s your job as Captain to know what’s happening on the ship at all times - uncertainty is not an option.
“Send these results over to Ridley and Liang,” you tell him. “We can rendezvous with them and see if they’ve found anything. Maybe they can help fill in some of the missing pieces.”
“The good news is: based on its system’s language, I’ve definitely narrowed down the crate’s potential origin.”
Ridley picks up a mug sitting on his desk, taking a large sip of what appears to be lukewarm black coffee. His small office very clearly is not meant to accommodate four people at once; you crowd around his screen, standing sandwiched between Destin and Hansol as you listen to his report.
“And the bad news?” Hansol inquires.
“The bad news… only to around 50,000 star systems.”
“Hey, out of the one billion star systems in the galaxy known to have life? Could be a lot worse,” Ridley counters.
“Did you import the data from Destin’s test results?” you ask. “Maybe that can help pinpoint it further.”
“Unfortunately, that didn’t help. In fact it eliminated all 50,000 of them - not a single one has an atmospheric composition matching the creature’s biology.”
“Sounds like you were right,” you nod your head toward Destin. “The creature must be from an unregistered planet, then. Whatever planet this crate came from was probably just transporting it.”
“I’ll check the ship logs and see if I can piece together where we might have picked this crate up,” Ridley states. “I don’t think that will tell us any more about the creature but maybe we can figure out how we ended up with it in the first place.”
You nod in agreement. “Destin, you go with Ridley. Hansol and I will see what Jones and Liang are up to.”
As if summoned, you hear Jones’ voice echo from your comms.
“Captain, come in. Are you alright?”
You stare at the device for a moment. The other crew members in the room turn to look at you, also confused. You raise your wrist toward your face to reply.
“I’m here. What do you mean?”
“We just saw you down the corridor but you were acting… weird. Are you on Deck 7 right now?”
Your stomach drops.
“No, we’re in Ridley’s office. Jones, that wasn’t me.”
“Shit. It looked just like you, Captain, I swear,” she replies.
“What was… it doing?” you ask reluctantly. But you have to know.
“You… well, the creature I guess - it was walking really fast toward the medical bay. I called your name out and it turned and looked at me but…” her voice trails off. “I’m not gonna lie, the look in your- its eyes scared the shit out of me. It was a cold dead stare. Then it said something but I couldn’t understand, it was unintelligible. But it was your voice, Captain.”
You instinctively look up at Hansol, meeting his gaze with horror in your eyes. He looks deeply concerned, but he remains calm. You would never admit it to him, but his presence always reassures you when you would otherwise be freaking out. You take a deep breath; your mind refocuses, and you decide you can worry about the details later.
“Should we go after it?” Jones’ voice rings through the comms.
“No, not yet - it’s too risky. Stay where you are, Hansol and I are on our way.”
You signal to your Pilot to follow, but he’s already by your side, pulse rifle at the ready.
"Turn your locators on your comms on,” you order to the whole crew. “Send a ping to check positions if you see somebody out of place. Report back with any anomalies. And stick with your partner at all times. I don’t want anybody going off by themselves.”
You and Hansol head straight for Deck 7, walking hastily but with caution. Every corner you turn, every airlock you open - you expect to see the image of a crew member lurking there, out of place. You remain focused, but there’s no denying you’re a little on edge.
Hansol notices, of course - he always does. You’re good at hiding it when you’re stressed or anxious - it’s part of the job, after all - but he’s known you long enough to recognize that you’re growing increasingly nervous. He watches the back of your head as you walk briskly down the corridor, alert and attentive as you clear each passing airlock.
“Hey,” he speaks softly. “Captain.”
You make sure the next hallway is clear before turning to face the voice behind you. It’s just Hansol, but something about seeing him gives you a sense of reassurance you didn’t know you needed.
“Yeah? What’s up?”
“Do you think we should send a distress signal?”
You pause for a moment, staring off into the distance as you mull over his words. Slowly, you begin to nod your head.
“I’ve been considering it for a while now,” you admit. “I didn’t want to jump the gun, but I think at this point it’s better safe than sorry.”
“I agree,” he nods. “Let’s head to the bridge after we meet up with Jones and Liang - no need to split up.”
You continue toward Deck 7. As you near where your crew is stationed, you hear loud banging sounds, followed by a thunderous CRASH. Your heart rate spikes. Glancing at Hansol, he looks equally as concerned. You raise your pulse rifles and start running toward the noises, when then you hear Liang’s voice ringing through the hallway.
“FUUUUCCCKKKKKK!!!”
You and Hansol burst into the room, prepared for the worst - but all you see is the Engineering Lab, looking like a tornado went through it. Liang is at one of the workstations, smashing some sort of device with a hammer while screaming expletives. Jones is laying on the floor, looking like she has given up.
“What the hell is going on??” you inquire loudly, relieved that there is no emergency but exasperated from the near-heart attack Liang almost gave you. “I thought you were dying in here!”
“Liang is smashing her third attempt at a tracking device with a hammer,” Jones remarks dryly. “I’m lying on the floor.”
“Yes, I see that,” you reply with an eye roll.
“It’s not BANG fucking BANG WORKING!!!” Liang bellows, giving the busted machine a final BANG before shoving it off the desk. Her shoulders slump as she hangs her head in her hands. You glance at Hansol out of the corner of your eye; he meets your gaze. You stare at each other for a moment, then the corners of his mouth start to twitch. You bite your lip to prevent bursting out in laughter; Hansol tries his hardest to stifle his grin. Nothing about this situation is funny, but the ridiculousness of it all definitely offers some comic relief.
Hansol clears his throat, shoving the laughter back down. “Um, so what have you tried so far?”
“Well, somebody fucked up the first machine because they got a little too solder-happy,” Liang grumbles, shooting a glare at Jones.
“I said I was sorry!” Jones retorts, exaggeratedly throwing her hands up into the air.
“The second one was close, I could feel it - but then I fucked up the wiring so bad I just decided to start from scratch again.”
“And you see how well that went,” Jones teases. Liang picks up a pencil and chucks it at Jones, hitting her in the forehead.
“OW!”
“Get up, dumbass. Make yourself useful and go get some power couplers,” Liang gestures at the giant wall of spare parts.
“Alright, alright! Damn!”
She hops up and brushes hastily past a shocked-looking Hansol to go fetch the requested parts. You laugh, remembering that this is his first mission working with these two.
“They’re always like this,” you reassure him out of earshot of your crew members. “Trust me, they’re best friends.”
Hansol scratches his head, letting out a nervous laugh.
“If you say so, boss.”
You head over to Liang’s workstation as she plops what you can only assume is Attempt #2 onto the desk. It’s a bulky, unsightly thing - a crudely-soldered collection of mismatched parts - but as she flips a switch it whirrs to life, displaying a blue hologram screen that you recognize as the ship’s schematics. Four glowing white dots appear upon the map.
“So obviously, that’s us,” Liang states. She makes some adjustments, zooming the display out to show the whole ship, and two additional white dots pop up. “And that’s Destin and Ridley up on Deck 3. Still no sign of our alien anywhere.”
“I assume you built an electroscope into the device?” Hansol asks Liang.
“Yeah, but it’s not detecting any anomalies.”
“What’s the detection threshold for static electricity, millivolts? Microvolts?”
“Microvolts,” Liang answers, raising her eyebrow at Hansol. “Why?”
“Instead of volts, hone in on the amps,” he instructs. “And up the sensitivity to nanoamps. I have a hunch.”
“Oookay,” she agrees with a shrug. “Can’t hurt to try anyways.”
Jones returns, setting a handful of power couplers on the desk. Hansol gets to work rummaging through endless boxes of parts; he returns in a few minutes with dozens of tiny pieces of machinery. He and Liang get to work, fine-tuning the machine. You don’t exactly want to sit around doing nothing, but you’re not much use here - and besides, you could use a few moments of rest. You plop down on a nearby rusty folding chair, watching your crew diligently fiddle with the contraption, but you quickly catch yourself zoning out. You didn’t realize how exhausted you were until right now. You close your eyes, just for a minute, you tell yourself. Just a quick breather…
“Captain!”
You jolt awake from the nap you didn’t know you were taking, nearly falling off the flimsy chair.
“What’s happening?” you ask frantically. “What time is it? What-”
You feel a hand on your shoulder. You look up to find Hansol’s face hovering above yours.
“God, you have got to stop doing that!”
“Sorry,” he replies with a sheepish smile. “We finished.”
“Fuck, how long was I out?”
“16 minutes and 58 seconds,” Jones reads from her watch.
“Oh,” you say as the panic in your body ceases. “That was fast.”
“Yeah, because me and Hansol are geniuses,” Liang says smugly.
“Well, does it work?” you inquire, getting up and walking back to the workstation.
“Don’t know,” Hansol replies matter-of-factly. “We’re about to fire it up.”
“Moment of truth…” Liang says with hesitant optimism. She flips a few switches, but the machine remains silent. Her eyes widen, looking like she’s about to reach for her hammer again, but fortunately the machine slowly starts booting up.
“Oh thank fuck,” she exhales. The blue screen pops up again, showing the same dots as before. Grimacing, she stares at the machine tiredly. “Well, nevermind that.”
“Wait,” you call out, leaning in to get a better look at the display. “Zoom in on our location.”
Liang zooms in on the Engineering Lab, the cluster of four dots growing larger.
No… five dots.
Everyone stares at the display in silence, processing what is being shown.
“Zoom back out?” Jones requests quietly.
Liang zooms out. Two additional dots appear for Ridley and Destin, still on Deck 3. You look back at the five dots in the Engineering Lab. Four are stationary, the fifth one slowly circling the others.
“There it is…” Liang utters, her voice barely more than a whisper.
You raise your comms to your chin. “Ridley, Destin, come in. State your locations,” your voice wavers as you ask the question you already know the answer to.
“Ridley here. I’m with Destin on Deck 3.”
“Destin here, copy that.”
You ping them on the locator, just to triple check - but they are indeed still up on Deck 3.
You stare at the fifth dot at your location. It’s still circling the other four, the eerie steadiness of its creeping pace sending a haunting chill up your spine. You feel the room shift, abject horror washing over everyone’s faces as the severity of the situation sinks in.
You slowly raise your pulse rifle, signaling for your crew to do the same. Everyone looks around the room anxiously.
“Where the hell is it?” Jones whispers reluctantly. The room falls silent as everyone tries to detect any trace of the creature. Then, you hear it.
swhoooooosh
The sound comes from above. It’s almost undetectable, but you hear it: the sound of wet, muted slithering from hell, accompanied by horrid crackling noises.
Hansol hears it too. He peers up, staring at the ceiling, his eyes widening with fear.
“It’s in the walls.”
“How…” Jones’ voice trails off momentarily. “I thought it was supposed to be gigantic… how can it fit in there?”
“I don’t know,” you respond as you cock your rifle, holding it at the ready. You point the barrel at the source of the sounds, tracing steadily along the ceiling as you hear it move above you. “But that doesn’t really matter right now. Everyone stick together at the center of the room - but hold your fire.”
“Blasters to stun?” Hansol checks, his arm brushing against your shoulder as he takes his position beside you. You turn, unintentionally staring directly into his eyes; your mind is racing, but his steadfast gaze grounds you back in reality. You nod at him.
“For now,” you add quietly.
The slithering and crunching continues, barely audible, but it echoes through your skull like nails on a chalkboard. You continue tracing the sounds with the muzzle of your rifle, when suddenly the noises cease, right above a vent cover.
“The vent!” Jones stammers. Time seems to freeze as you all stare at the hatch in the ceiling, terrified to blink or breathe lest it makes its move. You don’t know how much time passes - all you can focus on is the dreadful roar of blood rushing through your ears. Your heart pounds in your chest, so heavily it threatens to burst through your ribcage. But all there is is silence. Until-
BANG.
The vent cover rattles in its frame as the creature slams against it.
BANG.
Dust and particles trickle down from the ceiling. The whole room seems to shake.
BANG.
The vent protrudes from the blows, threatening to burst at the seams.
BANG!!!!
The dense metal covering gives way, falling to the ground below. Harsh clanging sounds ricochet through the room as it bounces off the floor - but the creature remains in the shadows above.
“I can’t see it,” Liang frantically hollers, staring up into the dark hole. “Where is it?”
Nobody moves as dust and shards of metal settle onto the ground, leaving behind deafening silence. Then, a series of deep, hollow clicks starts rippling through the air - you can’t tell where it’s coming from, it feels like it's all around you. A large dark figure suddenly plummets to the ground, landing with another deafening CRASH. You immediately fire your weapon, but it darts away, vanishing as quickly as it appeared.
“It’s over there!!” Jones screams, firing at a black blurry form in the corner of the room. You turn your head, trying to follow the horrid clicking sounds, but it’s as if you’re moving in slow motion - by the time you are facing it, it darts off in another direction. You do your best to aim and shoot, but your vision grows fuzzy, your head spinning with vertigo as you struggle to maintain focus.
“I can’t see!!” somebody shrieks. The room wobbles around you as you try to locate the creature, but it's near impossible. Finally, you spot the dark figure hovering not five feet in front of you, standing above one of your crew - your vision is too obscured to tell who. It raises its appendage, ready to attack. You scream, raising your pulse rifle with frustrating slowness, aiming it at the creature, but you know you’re too late. The crew member cries out in terror as the creature swings toward them, but then the room fills with a blinding flash of somebody firing point-blank at the creature. The creature howls, flying back up into the vent in a single leap. You hear it slithering away, its body crunching and creaking as it forces itself through the walls. By the time you can see straight again, it’s long gone.
Your eyes focus on the crew member laying upon the ground: it’s Jones. Her left sleeve is ripped clean off her jumpsuit, exposing a set of three slashes in her skin. You rush to her side, careful not to touch the wound. All things considered, it could be a lot worse - it’s not very deep, just a scratch, but the wound is already turning a concerning shade of purple. You whip your head up to find Hansol - you spot him across the room, helping Liang off the ground, both of them seemingly unscathed. Jones grits her teeth as she groans, clutching her arm in pain.
“How bad is it?” she asks reluctantly.
“Not the worst I’ve ever, but also not great,” you tell her truthfully. “Looks like our alien is venomous, unfortunately.”
“Yeah, might explain why it feels like my bones are on fire,” she remarks with a forced laugh. Hansol and Liang appear by your side, crouching down to get a good look at the wound.
“Yikes,” Hansol exclaims as his face grows contorted with disgust. Liang elbows him in the rib. “I mean, you’ll be fine,” he adds. He looks up at you. “Looks like we need an antidote. I think we can use the goo.”
“Shit, you’re right.” You jump into action, paging your Destin and Ridley on your comms. “Atlas crew, come in. We encountered the alien. This is Code Red - I repeat, this is Code Red.”
“Is everyone alright? What happened?” Ridley’s voice rings through the device.
“I… I don’t know really. We were attacked. Jones got hit and turns out the damn thing is venomous. We need an antidote - Destin, you there?”
“Copy, Captain. I can use the sample from earlier to cook one up. We’ll head to the lab, stat.”
“Wait,” you reply hastily. You return to the tracking device, thankfully unharmed despite the commotion. Zooming out, you see the seventh dot rapidly heading toward the upper decks.
“It’s headed right toward you. You have to go now - and FAST.”
“Roger that, Captain,” Destin responds. “We’re quite close to the Laboratory so we should be okay, but we’ll remain on high alert.”
“Keep us updated. Liang will take Jones straight to the Medical Bay. Me and Hansol will meet you at the lab to fetch the antidote.”
“Got it.”
You grab the bulky tracking device off the desk, taking a spare strap of leather from the ground and hurriedly fastening it to the device with some rivets. You go to put the strap around your shoulders, when Hansol stops you.
“I’ll take it,” he insists, attaching the device to himself before you can protest. “You’re a better shot than me, in case we encounter that fucking thing again.”
“Captain-” Liang shouts from behind. You turn to see her lifting Jones off the ground, but barely - as Jones is nearly a head taller than herself. They both stumble - you rush in to grab Jones’ torso, hoisting her back up while being careful to avoid touching the wound. You look back at Hansol.
“I’ll go get the antidote. You guys get Jones to Medical.”
“No!” you shout, louder than you mean to. “I don’t want you going by yourself. Come with us-”
Hansol shakes his head. “You know it’ll be faster if I go alone. We can’t waste any time.” He gestures to Jones’ arm, which is even more purple at this point.
You sigh reluctantly, but you know he’s right.
“But be careful,” you tell him sternly. “Please,” you add in a softer voice.
He gives you a quick salute, then disappears out of the room, tracking device and pulse rifle in tow. An anxious pit starts to develop in your stomach, but you ignore it. He’ll be fine, you tell yourself. And you know it’s true. But if something happened to Hansol… you would never be able to forgive yourself.
Turning back to Jones, you hoist her up so she can lean most of her weight on you. Liang pulls her rifle at the ready - and the three of you take off to the Medical Bay. It’s not terribly far from where you are, but having to drag an entire crew member with you makes the journey feel ten times longer than it actually is. You wish you had the tracking device to calm your nerves, but you know it was the right decision for Hansol to take it - he is heading in the same direction as the creature, after all. Eleven grueling minutes later, you arrive at the Medical Bay. You quickly help Jones into a medical capsule - the stasis technology won’t stop the venom from spreading, but it will at least slow it down slightly. You just hope and pray it’s enough.
“I’m going to the Bridge to send the distress signal,” you inform Liang. “Stay here with Jones, ping my comms if anything changes.” She stares back at you solemnly, not liking that you have to go off alone too, but she nods in agreement.
You run as fast as you can toward the Bridge, willing the creature to be anywhere else but in your path. You approach the final corridor, relief washing over you that you’re almost there. The pneumatic door whooshes open as you turn the corner; you look down the long hall to see the Bridge’s bright blue security door-
And Hansol is standing right in front of it.
Except, it’s not Hansol. You don’t even have to stop and think about it, you just know: that’s. not. him.
The creature disguised as Hansol stands unnaturally stiff, in an unnaturally wide stance, shoulders hunched in a way that seems painful. But the dead giveaway is the eyes - instead of the familiar warm gaze of Hansol’s brown eyes, you are met with a cold, hard glare of solid black irises. The hollow, disturbing clicking sounds from earlier begin again as the creature contorts Hansol’s lips into a hideous snarl. The same disgusting slimy goo you found in the crate starts to ooze from Hansol’s mouth, frothing and gurgling repulsively; it has also started pooling around Hansol’s boots where the vile creature stands. You stare back at it intensely, trying to see if you can get any read on it, any sense of kindness or well intentions - but all you can glean from its dead piercing eyes is a dark, harrowing sense of evil.
Then, it charges at you.
The Hansol doppelganger runs awkwardly, but startlingly fast, speeding straight down the corridor to where you stand. You don’t even have time to think - you shut the airlock and engage the blast shields moments before it reaches you. It thuds against the blast shields with a thunderous BANG.
You run. You don’t know where you’re going, you just run - as fast as you possibly can. All you can hear as you run away is
BANG.
BANG.
BANG.
It grows quieter the further you run, but you know if the creature can’t break down the blast doors it will just find another way out. You run, zig-zagging randomly down the corridors, until your legs feel like they’re going to give out. You slow to a stop - just for a moment, to catch your breath, when Ridley’s voice suddenly echoes from your comms.
“I just ran into the alien,” he frantically informs all channels. “And it fucking looked like me.”
“Ridley - are you hurt?” you quickly respond.
“My shoulder, it might be sprained,” he groans. “I’ll live. But shit, that was fucked up man, that was so fucked up…”
“Tell me what happened.”
“I turned the corner and saw myself standing right in front of me, god it was so fucking weird. But Captain - it talked. In my own voice. It said… It asked me, ‘Whoooo areeee youuuuu’. Fuck, it was so creepy. I blasted it in the face five times, that fucker barely even flinched. Then it picked me up and threw me into the wall. Landed on my shoulder, I think I might have sprained it - but I’ll live.”
“Where is it now, Ridley?” you ask imperatively. “Where did it go?”
“Ran off toward the upper decks, I think. Starboard.”
You look up, checking the corridor number where you ended up. Sure enough, the creature must be headed your way. Just my fucking luck. You start off in the opposite direction, aiming to avoid running into it, when you hear the thump thump thump thump of heavy footsteps growing louder.
It’s coming.
You have no time to think. You spot a supply closet - definitely not the world’s greatest hiding place, but it’ll have to do. You pull the door shut as you stumble into the closet, practically throwing yourself to the ground. You sit against the wall behind one of the shelves, pulse rifle across your lap in case you need to think quick. The thump thump thump thump-ing continues, the owner of the footsteps clearly getting closer. And closer. And closer. Then, they stop - right outside the closet door. You practically hold your breath, lest you make any sound to alert it to your presence. The doorknob squeaks as it slowly turns; bright light floods the small closet as the door opens. You raise your weapon, aiming it at- Hansol?
His eyes widen as he stares down the barrel of your rifle. He gently raises his hands, gesturing to you to lower the weapon.
“Hey, Captain-”
“Don’t move!!” you scream, rifle trembling in your grasp.
“Captain, it’s me-”
“How do I know it’s really you??”
Tears flood your eyes as you stare down your Pilot, blaster aimed directly at his head.
“Y/n, what happened?”
His soft voice fills your ears. You stare into his eyes - warm, brown, gazing down at you with concern. Those are Hansol’s eyes alright, but you know the alien keeps getting better at mimicking your crew - plus, it can speak now. You have to be sure.
“Tell me something so I know it’s really you,” you demand, your voice wavering. “Something only the real Hansol would know.”
He looks back at you for a moment, thinking.
“Do you remember how we first met?”
You stare up at him, still afraid, but you wait for him to continue.
“It was our first year at the Academy, on our third day of training. I was exhausted already - we all were. That first week was rough, I mean they really tried to kill us with the physical examinations, huh,” he says, a small grin appearing on his face as he reminisces. “Anyway, I didn’t know it but I had somehow already made an enemy. Chadley Praxton.” Mumbling, he adds, “stupid fucking name…” You’re still trembling, but the corners of your mouth twitch briefly into the tiniest of smiles. “Anyway, he was an asshole and decided I was a nerd or something, I don’t know what his deal was. In the mess hall that night he kept throwing peas at my head, for some reason. I ignored it, but then he started flinging bits of mashed potatoes with his spoon. I grabbed my tray and started to leave - but not before this random girl from my barracks walked right past him and dumped her full cup of cola and ice on his head.” He laughs, shaking his head at you. “You went, ‘Oops! Sorry!' in the most insincere tone and just kept walking. That’s when I knew I wanted to be your friend.”
He makes eye contact with you again, the smile on his face so kind you almost forget where you were for a moment. You go to lower your weapon, but realize you’ve already lowered it. You drop it to the ground, then burst into tears.
Hansol stands there, unsure what to do for a moment.
“Can I… come in?”
Your face is buried in your hands as you sob uncontrollably, but you nod. He enters the supply closet, shutting the door gently behind him, then plops down right next to you. Hesitantly, he gives you a couple pats on the shoulder - you lean in to him, burying your head in the crook of his neck. Fuck it, he decides, and wraps his arm around you, letting you cry as he holds you. After a few minutes, you start to calm down.
“Sorry,” you say with an embarrassed sniffle. “I didn’t mean to have a mental breakdown on you.”
“It’s okay.”
He rubs your arm as he embraces you, letting you lean against him still. You wonder when the last time you felt this calm was.
“I ran into the creature earlier. It looked like you, but it was all horribly wrong,” you explain. “That’s why I freaked out when I saw you.”
You feel him nod. “I figured.”
“Hansol, I was so fucking scared. I mean, I still am - I don’t know what’s going to happen. And I hate not knowing.”
“I know, me too,” he says as he rests his chin against the top of your head. “It’s going to be okay though.” He pauses, then somberly adds: “It has to be.”
You sit in silence for a few moments, listening to the steady rhythm of Hansol’s heart beating in his chest.
“Can I ask you something?”
You lift your head up to look at him after you ask. You see your trusty Pilot before you, but more importantly, you see your friend. Hansol.
“Sure,” he answers. “Of course.”
“I’ve heard rumors, but I’ve never known for sure. Did you have a mission that ended… badly?”
Hansol closes his eyes, giving you a solemn nod.
“Yeah. Four years ago, I was on a short transport mission. Was supposed to be super easy - one payload to be picked up and delivered. We’d all done it a hundred times. We were nearly at the destination planet when the ship had a strange malfunction. One of the engines shut down and nobody could figure out why. I offered to suit up and go check it out, but our Captain insisted he would go instead. Because it was my birthday.” He laughs softly. “He was always like that - he really cared about the crew. Just like you do.”
He looks back to you as he says it, and it makes your heart sink.
“So he went out to do a routine maintenance check. But, turns out the engine shut down due to a gas leak. I don’t know how it went undetected, but it did. The moment he took a pistol grip to the tank carriage, it exploded.”
“Oh my god,” you mutter softly.
“Yeah. It severed his tether and pierced his primary life support system. He died instantly.”
A gentle stream of tears falls from each of his eyes, running gracefully down his face.
“We had to make an emergency evacuation in the auxiliary shuttle. There was no time to even retrieve his body. That was the worst part of it all: watching him float off into the void of space as we flew away to safety, knowing there was absolutely nothing we could do. I’ll never be able to get that image out of my head. It haunts me.”
“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, placing your hand on top of his.
You stay there together, sitting in silence for a bit. You find yourself leaning your head on his shoulder again - it’s comforting for both of you.
“Thank you,” you finally say.
He tilts his head to look at you. “For what?”
“For being there.”
He smiles softly. “You too.”
You sit up abruptly. “The antidote!! And the distress call! Did we-”
“We got it,” he answers immediately, quelling your worries. “I noticed the distress signal wasn’t sent yet, so after I delivered the antidote to the Med Bay I went to the Bridge - everyone else stayed behind with Jones. You weren’t in the Bridge, so I sent the distress call and went to come find you.”
“Why didn’t you just call me on the comms?”
He grins, lifting up his wrist to show the busted remains of what was once his comms.
“What the fuck did you do?” you inquire, your eyebrows furrowed with concern.
“Had a brief run in with the alien. It was a giant dark blur again - I fired at it like 15 times in a row but it still managed to body slam me into the ground.” He shrugs. “Then it ran off.”
“And the only thing hurt was your comms?”
“Um, I might have a broken rib,” he admits, scratching his head. “But it’s fine.”
“What?! Okay, come on, let’s get you to Medical too.”
“I’m fine, really,” he insists, but he reaches for the tracking device from his stash. “Here.” He fires it up, the hologram display projecting seven white dots before you. Two are you and Hansol, in this stupid supply closet. Four are the rest of your crew up in the Medical Bay. And one lone dot lingers near the engine rooms.
“Okay, the creature isn’t close, that’s good,” you comment. “But why is it down there…”
“I dunno, but it can’t possibly be up to anything good.”
You and Hansol make it back to the Medical Bay with no issues - the creature appears to be staying put for now. You’re relieved to find Jones with two intact arms, the sickly scratches looking significantly less purple after the antidote.
“Practically good as new, boss,” Jones announces cheerfully. “I’m ready to get back out there. What’s our game plan?”
“Well, Hansol sent the distress signal but so far, no response. One option: stay here - lock down Med Bay and wait for someone to pick up our beacon.”
“And hope and pray that the creature can’t break in?” Destin questions. You sigh, but you know he’s right. “What are our other options?” he asks.
“Well, we could-”
Your sentence is cut off by the sudden blaring of the emergency alarms.
Startled, everybody jumps to their feet. A loud, grating bell rings on top of the piercing sirens.
“What’s happening?” Liang shouts over the noise.
Hansol is already at the terminal, pulling up the reports. His face drops as he reads the text on the glowing blue screen.
“One of the exhaust pumps on the portside engines is malfunctioning!” he shouts urgently.
“What??” you shout back. “How-”
You are interrupted by another bell ringing.
“A second exhaust pump is offline??” Hansol yells with confusion. He scrambles back to the tracking device - six dots up in Med Bay, one down in the engine room.
Another bell. You don’t have to look at the terminal to know exactly what is happening.
“That thing is dismantling the exhaust pumps!!” you shout, watching as fear washes over your crew’s faces yet again.
“The ship is gonna fucking blow if it keeps this up!!” Liang shrieks.
You find yourself looking to Hansol. He nods to you, and you know what must be done.
“EVERYBODY TO THE AUXILIARY SHIP,” you command your crew. “WE’RE EVACUATING - NOW.”
“What about the alien??” Ridley yells. “What if it comes after us?”
You look back at him, replying with a single word.
“Run.”
The blaring alarms screech in your ears as you and your crew bolt through the ship, heaving footsteps clanging against the metal floors as the emergency lights flood the hallways with their incessant flashing. You sprint, as fast as your exhausted body will allow, but time seems to lag, your movements occurring in slow motion. But you can’t stop - not until your whole crew is safe.
“It’s running right towards us!” Hansol hollers from right behind you. “Approaching fast, from behind, 1000 meters…” Then, seconds later, “800 meters… 600…”
“Shit,” you growl under your breath. You yank your pulse rifle up, cranking the blaster to maximum voltage. You’re not taking any more fucking chances.
“500 meters,” Hansol shouts. “400… 300…”
You stop in your tracks, whipping around to face the hallway you just came from. Your crew follows suit.
“KEEP GOING,” you shout to your crew.
“No way,” Ridley shouts back. “We’re sticking with you.”
“THAT’S AN ORDER.”
You scan the faces of your crew - they are filled with terror, but you see the determination in their eyes. They each salute you, then run. You watch the backs of their heads as they flee down the corridor. A horrible feeling that you will never see them again creeps into your head.
You turn back around, Hansol standing beside you, ready to fight.
“Hansol, GO.”
He shakes his head in refusal. “I’m not leaving you, Captain.”
He looks at the tracking device once more.
“200 meters, 150, 100…”
You hold your ground, bracing yourself for the worst. You hear the repulsive scuttle of the creature’s footsteps, rapidly approaching, accompanied by the god-awful scraping of its claws against metal. You aim at the airlock, finger on the trigger - but the pneumatic door doesn’t open. The horrifying realization sinks in as you hear it stomp and crunch above your head, passing you in an instant as it heads directly for the auxiliary ship.
“It’s still in the fucking walls!” you yell urgently to the rest of your crew over your comms. “It’s heading straight for our escape route - divert course immediately!!”
Several seconds pass with no response, and you fear for the worst. But then you hear Jones’ voice crackling through.
“We’re headed to the nearest Emergency Ejection Modules,” she shouts through the static. “We lost Destin though, I don’t know where he went!”
“Keep going - don’t stop for anything.”
You switch channels, pinging Destin’s comms.
“Destin, come in - where are you?”
“I’m going to distract it,” his voice rings distantly through the device. “You and Hansol get to the auxiliary ship, I’ll lure it away.”
“No! It’s too dangerous-”
“Godspeed, Captain.”
The channel goes quiet as he shuts off his comms.
“What the fuck is he doing??” you cry out, staring incredulously at Hansol.
“I don’t know, but it’s working,” he replies as he looks down at the tracking device. You see two stray dots on the map, heading for the aft. The confusion on Hansol’s face lifts as he realizes.
“I think he’s going to try and trap it in the garbage receptacle.”
“He’s going to get himself killed,” you grumble.
“What do we do?”
You meet Hansol’s eyes. He patiently awaits your order, looking back at you with all the trust in the galaxy. It nearly rips your heart in half.
“I don’t-”
BOOOOOOOOM.
The rumbling explosion cuts you off. You feel the ground shake beneath your feet.
“That was nearby,” Hansol announces with concern. Pulling up the map again you see a third dot on the deck above your current position, unmoving. Another dot speeds back in the direction of the other crew members.
“Quick!” You sprint up the nearest stairwell, Hansol right by your side. Up on the next deck you find yourself in Central Mainframe Storage, but one of the huge towers of computers has been fully knocked over. Spark zap in the air as the exposed wiring flickers to death. Then, at the other end of the room, you spot your Science Officer. He clings to the Terminal as balances himself on one leg, the other appearing to be badly mangled.
“Destin!” you shout. He peers over his shoulder, his face contorted with pain.
“You have to go,” he tells you somberly as he types a long string of codes into the Terminal. “I’m gonna blow this shit to pieces.”
Flashing red lights fill the room as a deep, thundering alarm overtakes the air. The sound fills you with imminent dread.
“Emergency Self-Destruct System activated,” a robotic female voice echoes through the chamber. “T-minus 10 minutes until self-destruction.”
“Destin what the hell?!?!” you shriek.
“This is all my fault,” he laments, hanging his head low in shame. “I’m the one who allowed the crate containing the specimen on board.”
“What? I…” you struggle to form words as shock, confusion, betrayal course through you all at once. “Why?”
“Three months ago I was contacted by a strange man. I never even found out his name, he told me just to refer to him as The Ambassador.” He rolls his eyes with a huff. “That should’ve been the first red flag. But he was looking for a recruit to help him on a project called Operation Prometheus. He told me it was a classified government-funded operation and that he couldn’t give me many details, but he needed somebody on the inside to help him bypass security measures to get a crate on this ship for its next mission. I don’t know where it came from, it was being transferred from another cargo ship. Another measure to bury the trail, I guess. But the payout was incredible, almost too good to be true, but he paid me 50% up front. So I agreed. He told me the crate contained new weapon technologies, but he assured me it was perfectly safe for transport.”
He lets out a deep sigh. “I should’ve known better. I don’t think he meant for the alien to ever escape, but regardless I shouldn’t have trusted a word he said.” He pauses, lips quivering as tears start to fall from his eyes. “The only reason I did it was for my family - my daughter, she was diagnosed with a rare blood disorder last year. I took on extra missions, my wife got a second job even, but the bills were insurmountable. We were drowning. Even just the 50% payment was enough to change our lives. My family can be free now.”
“T-minus 9 minutes until self-destruction,” the robotic voice booms through the air.
“You have to go,” he urges you and Hansol.
“We can get you out of here-” Hansol starts, but Destin waves his hand.
“It’s too late, I’m not going to make it,” he shakes his head in defeat. “My leg is broken to pieces and I’ve lost too much blood.”
“Shut up, you’re coming with us,” Hansol snaps, charging over to the Terminal, but he stops in his tracks as Destin raises his rifle at him.
“Please,” he begs. “I couldn’t live with myself anyway. My will to live is long gone.”
“T-minus 8 minutes until self-destruction.”
“Go!!” he insists again. You grab Hansol’s arm, pulling him along as you back out of the room. He looks at you, distress coloring his face. You shake your head in defeat.
“There’s no time.”
He nods, reluctant, but he understands. As you step back into the hallway, you take one last look at your Science Officer. Solemnly, he gives you a final salute. He disappears as the airlock shuts itself closed.
“The alien is still headed toward the rest of the crew,” Hansol informs you. “I think we can make it to the auxiliary ship in time.”
“Atlas Crew, come in,” you call to all channels, panting through labored breaths as you and Hansol run down the hallway. “The alien is headed directly toward your position, get out of there.”
“Roger, Captain,” Ridley responds immediately. “We’re all in the Modules, ready to Evacuate. We may lose contact once we stray too far from the ship.”
“Ejection in 10 seconds,” Liang announces through the comms. “Goodbye Captain, Hansol. If you two don’t make it out alive I’ll kill you.”
A smile spreads across your face. “Godspeed, Crew.”
“Catch you on the flip side,” says Jones. A loud whooshing sound overtakes the comms - the Modules have deployed.
“T-minus 8 minutes until self-destruction.”
“We’re almost there,” Hansol shouts over the awful cacophony of sirens and alarms. You turn the corner, the airlock to the auxiliary ship waiting for you at the end of the corridor. You sprint down the hall, traversing the final 50 meters as fast as you possibly can. You reach the door, scanning your hand to unlock it. It zips open, and you and Hansol practically throw yourselves into the airlock.
“T-minus 7 minutes until self-destruction.”
You scramble into the craft, sealing the blast doors on the airlock and taking your respective places on the flight deck. Hansol fires up the ignition - it gives a few sad-sounding spurts, but the engines fail to start. He stares at the controls, trying again. Same thing. He tries again. And again.
“Oh my fucking god,” he mumbles, burying his face in his hands as he sinks into the chair in defeat. “You have got to be joking.”
You flip a few more switches - the interior lights turn on, as does the climate control.
“We have power,” you tell him. “The engines just aren’t firing. Looks like the combustion chambers are offline.” You groan as you too sink into your seat. “I don’t think we could even fix that if we tried.”
“T-minus 6 minutes until self-destruction.”
“Fucking SHUT UP!!!” you scream at the robot voice. Taking a deep breath, you quietly ask Hansol, “What the fuck are we gonna do?”
He thinks, staring blankly at the ceiling. Suddenly, he bolts upright. He starts flipping switches and adjusting dials on the deck. “We have system power, right? So we can at least detach. We float away until the main ship self-destructs, then the explosion will propel us away. Comms are up, we can send a distress signal once we reach a safe distance.”
“‘The explosion will propel us away’.” you repeat. “That, or it blows us to smithereens.”
“Yeah, one of those.”
You mull it over briefly, then shrug your shoulders. “It’s the best shot we’ve got. Let’s do it.”
Hansol dismantles the coupling, detaching the smaller ship from the main hull. Without power, you linger for a moment, but then the ship jolts, sending you floating out of the bay.
“T-minus 5 minutes until self-destruction,” you hear the ominous voice fade as you slowly drift away.
The ambient humming of the ship’s generator fills the air as you sit there together in silence, unmoving except for the steady heaving of your tired chests, waiting out the longest five minutes of your life. You watch the seconds fall in the countdown as you drift, putting good distance between you and the ticking time bomb that is the ship you’d grown quite fond of over the past five years.
“Almost…” you announce as the timer approaches zero. Hansol extends his arm, placing his hand on yours. The unexpected sensation makes your stomach do a little flip, but you accept, turning your hand to lace your fingers through his. You stare out the window, bracing yourself.
Suddenly, the ship begins to burst. A blinding flash of light causes a momentary white-out - you abruptly squeeze your eyes shut; when you open them again, you watch as your ship silently erupts in a massive ball of fire. The explosion violently shakes the ship, the vibrations rattling deep in your bones. You don’t realize how tight your grip has become on Hansol, but he doesn’t mind. Together, you watch the fiery remnants of the Atlas IV grow smaller as your vessel is safely propelled away by the shockwaves, drifting aimlessly into the void of space.
“Do you think we’re gonna make it back home?” you ask Hansol softly after a few minutes.
“Yes,” he replies without hesitation. Without thinking, he rubs his thumb over your hand lightly, as if he’s done it a million times before. “We’re gonna be okay, y/n.”
“You think we’ll see the rest of our crew again?”
Hansol ponders for a moment, then a gentle smile appears on lips. He squeezes your hand in his, with no plans to let go.
“I hope so.”
♡ if you liked this fic, REBLOGS, TAGS, and COMMENTS are extremely appreciated ♡
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♡ pairing: lee seokmin x afab!reader
♡ theme: smut, pwp [18+ mdni]♡ wc: 2.9k
♡ warnings: sub!seokmin, (very)softdom!reader, but lowkey also switch!seokmin and switch!reader oops, unprotected piv sex (fr do not do this), mutual masturbation, fingers in mouth, cowgirl, breast/nipple play, oral (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), creampie, size kink!!!, dk nose appreciation!!!, LOTS of whining sorry i wrote it what do u expect, seokmin is down BAD dude, excellent aftercare, fluff at the end | petnames (m. receiving - good boy, pretty)
♡ a/n: happy birthday @miniseokminnies!!!! figured my first dk fic should be dedicated to the world’s biggest cuties g hehe. hope u like and hope i did your mans justice, i did my very best <3
Seokmin is - and always has been - a sweetheart. The man who steals kisses then runs away giggling, who gets excited every time he gets to tell you about a dog he met that day, who buys you flowers for no reason other than to see you smile. He simply would walk to the ends of the earth and back for you.
Seokmin is the epitome of the ideal lover - always treating you tenderly, checking in every step of the way to make sure he’s loving you exactly the way you want him to, prioritizing your pleasure above all else. And goddamn does he know to touch you in all the right places. His hand resting on the back of your neck as he draws you into a deep kiss, his soft lips kissing your breasts as he navigates your body with ease, his tongue dancing across your pussy as he savors your taste, his cock filling you to the brim - not just fucking you, but thoroughly loving every inch of you. He is everything you could ever want in a partner - and so much more.
Seokmin loves you dearly - but three months into your relationship, you find out he’s been harboring a secret. Without a doubt, he absolutely adores showering you with affection, treating the bedroom as the altar upon which he worships you. But, beyond the confidence and gentle masculinity lies a man who wishes, sometimes, that the roles were reversed - a man who yearns for you to take control.
“Ready, love?”
Seokmin nods, the expression on his face already pathetic, and you haven’t even started yet.
You flash him a sweet smile from across the room. Seokmin sits on the bed, back resting against the headboard, legs outstretched over the sheets, wearing nothing but a pair of soft gray sweatpants. The outline of his cock stands out against the light fabric - with no underwear on either, his bulge is practically on full display. You can already see him getting hard.
“What’s the rule again, baby? Tell me,” you instruct.
You see his Adam's apple bob as he swallows, anxious but excited.
“No touching myself until you say so,” he answers. It comes out barely more than a whisper.
“Good boy.”
His cock twitches. You smirk, pleased with how easily you’re able to get a rise out of him.
You recline comfortably in your chair, still fully clothed. Your hands reach to your breasts, lightly squeezing them through your sweater. Seokmin takes a deep inhale, exhaling steadily in a futile attempt to mellow his accelerating heart rate. Reaching for the hem, you begin to lift your top, taking your sweet time as you peel the sweater from your torso. As you reach your chest, you tug the knit fabric up and over your bra, taking a moment to caress yourself once more through the cute lacy undergarment. He shifts slightly upon the mattress. Pulling the sweater over your head and off your body, you toss it aside, letting one hand slip downwards. You spread your thighs, letting your dainty skirt drape across your lap enough to showcase a great deal of skin, but still covering your core.
“Should I keep going?” you ask, fiddling lightly with the skirt’s hem.
“Please,” he begs immediately.
You lift the skirt up, revealing your bare pussy.
“Oh,” he utters, his voice deepening.
You grin, shifting so you can lift your legs, swinging your calves over the chair’s arms to give him the clearest view. You drag your fingertips up your cunt, collecting the arousal that has pooled there and bringing it up to your lips, leisurely licking it off. Seokmin’s cock has quickly grown in his pants, forming a sizable tent in his own lap.
Your hand drifts back to your clit, stroking it gently, evoking a low hum resonating from your lips. You close your eyes as your fingertips work the bud, caressing it delicately with a practiced hand. When you open your eyes again, Seokmin is squirming. Despite his attempts to remain still, his chest rises and falls with heavy breaths, his jaw clenched, the bedsheets crumpled in his palms as he grips onto them tightly.
“You like watching me, baby?” you coo at him.
“Mhmm,” he mumbles pitifully with a fervent nod.
“I bet you want to touch yourself right now, don’t you?”
“Y-yeah,” his voice wavers. “Can I…”
“Not yet,” you decline. “But take those pants off for me, would you?”
He obeys, gripping the waist of the sweats and lifting it over his thick, fully-erect cock. He shimmies out of the pants and lets them plop onto the floor. You gaze at him longingly, mouth watering at the sight of him before you, fully nude and painfully hard, utterly losing his mind over you. This is agonizing for you both - you’d love nothing more than to leap out the chair and throw yourself at him, but you know the delayed gratification will be well worth the wait.
You let out a soft whine as you slip two fingers inside of your drenched, aching cunt, eager to be filled. Slowly you begin to fuck yourself, letting low hums of pleasure drift from your lips; it feels good, but you know this is nothing compared to how good Seokmin is going to feel inside you. Growing restless, you quicken your pace, squirming against the seat as excitement swells in your gut. Seokmin’s head falls back against the headboard, eyes glassy as he watches you. His white-knuckled grasp upon the sheets has only tightened, the fabric furrowed around his fists. His cock stands tall, its head bumping against his stomach as it pulses wantingly, desperate for relief.
“Oh my god, I’m gonna die,” he groans, his chest rising high and falling deep with each labored breath. “Please let me touch myself.”
You nod, gazing at him through heavy eyelids.
“Go ahead, baby.”
His hand flies to his cock, gripping it tightly in his fist. He lets out a sharp, loud moan.
“Oh fuckkkk.”
He begins to steadily stroke his length, fighting against the urge to jerk his cock at breakneck speed lest he cum all over himself in three seconds. As badly as he craves release, it needs to be in your mouth, in your pussy - anywhere, he doesn’t care, as long as it’s for you.
Slowly you retrieve your fingers from your cunt - any more, and you risk cumming far too soon. Swinging your legs to the floor you rise, sauntering over to Seokmin. He gazes up at you, hopelessly pathetic, hand rhythmically rising and falling as you approach. Leaning over him, you bring your fingers to his lips; eagerly he accepts, sweetness gracing his tongue as he savors your juices - a taste he can never get enough of. With an abrupt release he lets go of his cock, leaving it throbbing against the air, desperate for relief. You draw your fingers from his mouth and wrap them around his girth. He whimpers as you drag the mix of spit and juices up and down his length.
“Does it feel good, love?” you coo at him.
“So good,” he exhales breathily.
“You know what I want?” you mutter softly, leaning in, your noses brushing as your lips hover in front of his.
“What is it, baby?”
His breath is hot on your lips, his eyes gazing up at you from under thick dark lashes, ready to give you anything you desire.
Slowly you climb onto the bed, swinging one leg over his lap, resting your knees against his outer thighs as you straddle him. You grip his cock in your palm, guiding it toward your core, running the head along your slit.
“Ohhh my god,” Seokmin whines as his cock throbs in your hand. “So wet…”
He reaches for your skirt, lifting the fabric up so he can see. Your pussy glistens as you grind against his cock, the stickiness of your arousal spreading over its length. You align his tip at your entrance, lowering yourself slowly, the head pressing against your hole for the briefest of moments - but your cunt is too eager. It slips inside you with ease, causing Seokmin to let out a pitiful moan as your walls swallow his cock. You rest your palms against his chest as you slowly accept more of his length, groaning softly as he bottoms out. You sit there for a few moments, letting yourself adjust to the stretch - because no matter how many times you’ve fucked him, his size never fails to overwhelm you.
Breathing heavily, your chest rises and falls right in front of Seokmin’s face. He gathers your skirt in his left hand, keeping it lifted as he slips his right hand around your waist, reaching up your back and undoing the clasp on your bra. He practically yanks the garment off your body, chucking it across the room before grasping onto your breast. He kneads the soft skin in his hand, giving your boob a few good squeezes before guiding it to his mouth. The tip of his tongue flicks across your nipple, licking it delicately, before suddenly latching on. Your head falls back, soft moans escaping your lips as he starts to suck on the bud. Reflexively your hips grind back and forth, and you begin to ride him.
“Oh my god, Seokmin…”
The sound of you moaning his name sends an electric shock through his body. His mouth glides to your other breast, sucking the nipple as your pussy wraps around his cock so deliciously. You begin to bounce faster, and faster - he releases your nipple, grabbing onto your hips and pushing your skirt up again to watch his cock disappear into your cunt. His thumb reaches for your clit, easily locating the sensitive bud, making you cry out at the gentle pressure - heat rising in your belly as your body begins to tense up.
“Fuck that feels so good,” you whine as you sink onto Seokmin’s cock over and over again. “Make me cum, baby.”
He increases the pressure upon your clit, making you moan his name again. You clutch onto his chest, fingernails digging into his tan skin as you ride him, tears running down your cheeks as his thick cock fills your pussy with each stroke. Finally, the sensations become wholly overwhelming - your orgasm takes over, pleasure pulsing through your body as you cum on his cock. He rubs your clit perfectly, just the way you like it, guiding you through your climax as your body shakes atop him. The high is incredible, and you savor every lasting moment of it.
He slows as your body starts to relax, releasing the bud and wrapping his arms around you as you collapse onto him. You cling to his torso, burying your face in his neck as you catch your breath, deep sighs filling the room as you come back down to earth. Seokmin rubs your back softly, kissing your cheek lovingly as you lay there entangled with him. As you recover the ability to form coherent thoughts, you realize just how hard his cock is, throbbing against your walls as it rests inside of you. You sit up, smiling as you see your partner’s face - he gazes up at you, desperation off the fucking charts. As if drunk off your orgasm, you can’t help but let out a giggle,
“You look so pretty like this,” you coo as you run your hand through his hair. He gulps, using all of his willpower to not just cum in you right this moment. He groans as you shift, slowly letting his length slip out of you. He looks down, the sight of your drenched pussy dripping onto his wet cock making his mouth water.
“You’ve been such a good boy for me,” you praise. “Where do you want to cum?” You stroke his jawline with your fingertips, giving him a soft kiss on the cheek, but he shakes his head.
“Not yet,” he mutters.
“What? What do you m- whoa!” you yelp as he flips you over onto your back, rolling himself on top of you.
“What are you doing?” you ask, but you start to giggle as he kisses your neck. His kisses trail down your body, across your breasts and over your stomach as he scoots down the bed. Finally, he reaches your core, his lips hovering above your still-pulsating clit. You nearly shriek as he grabs your thighs, shifting your hips as he lifts your legs up, knees just about meeting your chest as he practically folds you in half. He begins kissing your inner thigh, making his way down to your core - he sticks his tongue out, nearly licking your pussy, but instead he starts kissing your other thigh.
“Stop teasing me,” you laugh as he nips at the tender skin with his teeth. He grins, giving you a wink.
“You got it, babe,” he replies, before burying his face in your cunt.
“Oh FUCK,” you cry out as he sticks his tongue into your hole, his nose rubbing against your clit deliciously.
“Tell me what you want, love,” he mumbles into your folds. “I’ll do anything you want.”
“Oh god, keep doing that,” you beg. “Feels so fucking good.”
Your body begins to wriggle beneath him, chest rising and falling as he fucks you with his tongue, hips grinding your clit further against his nose. You stroke his hair, running your fingers through the dark locks as he eats you out hungrily. You grip onto the sheets with your other hand, trying to still yourself, but to no avail. He knows exactly how to touch you to drive you fucking crazy.
“Want your fingers in me, please,” you whine breathily.
Seokmin looks up at you, brown eyes normally so soft and kind now overtaken with pure lust. His fingertips flutter through your folds, touching you gently, tracing circles around your clit before slipping two fingers inside you. You cry out as he pushes them deep into your pussy, curling his long fingers upwards to reach your g-spot with ease. Electricity jolts through your body as he latches his lips onto your clit, suckling on the bud as he fucks you. His tempo is slow at first, easing you toward another orgasm; but as you squirm against the bed he begins to quicken his pace. His fingers pulse in and out of your hole as his tongue dances skillfully across your clit, making you see stars as your eyes roll back into your head. You cum again, even harder this time, a powerful shockwave pulsing through your body as your cries of pleasure ring through the air. Seokmin’s name escapes your lips between the otherwise unintelligible babbling; he holds as still as possible, not letting himself grind his cock into the mattress - because he’s so fucking turned on right now that any amount of friction against his dick would make him cum all over the place. He yearns so badly for release, but he knows exactly what you both want.
Retrieving his fingers from your cunt, he crawls back up to you, his leaking cock pressing against your core. He brings his fingertips up to your lips; you eagerly put them in your mouth, tasting yourself as you suck your juices from his hand. He slips his cock inside you once more, your soaking pussy gratefully accepting his size. He slides his hands to your wrists, pinning your arms above your head as he starts fucking you. He doesn’t go slow this time, he can’t - it doesn’t even matter, because he’s already about to cum.
“Oh my god, baby, feels so good, so perfect…”
You wrap your arms around him, pulling his body into yours with a tight squeeze - and with that, he releases.
He moans loudly as he cums, his cock pulsating into you as hot ropes of cum spill against your walls. The overwhelming sensation of fullness makes you let out a string of whimpers into Seokmin’s ear.
“Fuckkkk, baby,” he groans, his cock still releasing inside you. After every last drop of his cum fills your pussy, his body relaxes, squashing you against the bed.
“Hey!” you squeal with a giggle as you sink into the mattress. “You’re squishing me!”
Seokmin raises his head, looking at you lovingly through heavy eyelids.
“Sorry, love,” he tells you with a big cheesy grin. He lifts himself up, shifting his weight off of you, slowly retrieving his cock from inside you. As his length leaves you, you feel his cum spilling from your pussy. You sigh at the sudden emptiness, reaching up to grab his face, drawing him in for a kiss.
“I love you,” he mutters softly into your lips. “So much.”
“I love you too,” you mutter back, before kissing him a dozen times more.
Quickly but gently he gets you cleaned up, heeding great care to your comfort - but always with Seokmin, you could never be more comfortable. He smiles to himself as he watches you struggle to keep your eyes open; you always get so sleepy after sex, and he finds it incredibly endearing. Crawling back into the bed, he pulls the sheets over the both of you, tucking you in as he wraps his arms around you and squeezes you tight. You giggle, snuggling yourself deep into Seokmin’s embrace. Neither of you had bothered with clothes; the warmth of his body radiates against your skin as he holds you - it should be too toasty, given that both of you are covered in a thin sheen of sweat, blood pumping and endorphins rushing. But, as everything always is with Seokmin - it's perfect.
♡ pairing: neighbor!jihoon x fem!reader
♡ theme: fluff, hurt/comfort
♡ wc: 3.9k
♡ warnings: post-breakup dynamics, cheating (from ex), swearing, mentions of food
♡ a/n: written as part of the Winter with You collab put on by @camandemstudios - make sure to check out the full collab masterlist here!! give all these talented writers some love <3 and big thanks to @lovetaroandtaemin for beta reading!!
As if your fiancé leaving you for another woman wasn’t enough to make this the shittiest week of your life, now you’ve managed to lock yourself out of your house during an incoming blizzard. At least your next-door neighbor is home, and he’s kind enough to offer you shelter from the storm. You barely know Jihoon, only having spoken to him a few times - but soon, you discover you have more in common than you initially thought.
Five days ago, you made the innocent mistake of picking up your fiancé’s phone when you thought it was yours. You noticed immediately when you saw the lock screen - it was a photo of you and him from last December, posed in front of a Christmas tree, taken minutes after he proposed. In it, you’re smiling ear to ear, enthusiastically showing off the beautiful engagement ring he bought you. The photo has been his wallpaper ever since. “You look so happy,” he told you a couple months ago. “I can’t bring myself to change it.”
You go to set the phone back down, but a notification catches your eye. You take a closer look, discovering a string of WhatsApp messages, all from somebody named Kelsey.
Huh, that’s weird, you think to yourself. I didn’t know he even used WhatsApp.
Normally, you’d think nothing of it - but something feels off. You hesitate for a moment. You know each other’s passcodes for the sake of convenience; you’ve never felt the need to go through his phone, and you feel bad about even thinking about doing it. But, your gut is telling you to investigate.
You input the password and open the message thread. You’re not quite sure what you’re even looking for, but two seconds of scrolling tells you all you need to know. Dumbfounded, you read the particular message three more times before it sinks in:
Can’t wait for our vacation next week baby, I really need to get away from all of this right now.
Your stomach lurches as if you’ve just been punched in the gut. He told you he was going on a business trip next week. He told you that months ago.
Get away from ‘all of this’? What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Does he mean… me???
Blood rushes through your ears as you read through the never-ending series of sexts, nudes, notes more romantic than anything he’s ever said to you before, an entire paper trail of all the times and locations of the evident affair - until you feel like you’re going to be sick.
No, it’s not real. It can’t be. There’s no way…
Paralyzed, you stand there in disbelief, but as several more minutes of scrolling pass, it becomes clear that this is actually happening. Tears start to well in your eyes, but you quickly bottle it up, converting the energy into anger instead. You take the phone and march into his office to confront him - ready to shut him down when he tries to deny it.
But, he doesn’t even try to deny it. He doesn’t even care.
“Well, it’s about time you found out anyway,” he tells you nonchalantly.
“Our wedding is in three months!! How fucking long were you going to wait to tell me??”
“I was gonna tell you soon, I just needed it to be the right time.”
“The right time??!! When is there a right time to dump your fiancé???”
“Listen, y/n-”
“Don’t tell me to fucking listen!!” you raise your voice at him. “In fact, don’t say anything else. Get the fuck out of my house.”
“You can’t tell me to get out, this is my house too,” he replies, with the sheer audacity to have a tone of annoyance in his voice.
“It’s MY name on the fucking papers. Get. Out.”
And so, he left. Didn’t even give you his set of keys back. Didn’t even say goodbye.
Now, you sit here parked in your driveway, the howling of harsh winter winds whistling over the melancholy tune playing loudly from the car radio. The volume is cranked all the way up, but despite your best efforts to drown out the outside world, the sharp whooshing sounds persist. Looks like the incoming storm is going to be as bad as predicted - if not worse. The blustering begins to jostle the whole vehicle. You stare aimlessly out the front windshield, watching chunks of snow flying erratically through the air as the winds pick up further. With a sigh, you turn the ignition off, the engine and radio going silent. If you're going to sit around moping, might as well do it inside where it's warm. You reach for the garage door remote clipped on the visor above you, but your hand only hits the soft padding. Right, you think to yourself, still gotta get that one replaced too.
You drag yourself out of your car, hastily throwing your coat on and stumbling through the wind toward your front door. Flipping through your keys, something feels off. You look down, assuming your frozen fingers are just too stiff to pick out the correct one. You stare at the collection for several seconds, but your house key is not there.
“What the fuck?” you mutter to yourself in confusion. Then, a horrible realization sets in: you never put your new key on the keyring after getting your locks changed.
You brace yourself against the wind, trudging through the pile of snow accumulating in your front yard. As you reach the window, you lean over the bushes, peering through the partially-shut blinds into your kitchen to see a set of gold keys, sitting upon the center of the countertop.
“You gotta be fucking kidding me.”
Your stupid ex-fiancé isn’t even around anymore and he’s still finding new ways to make your life miserable. If he had just returned your damn keys, you wouldn’t be in this situation right now.
Tears start welling in your eyes - and this time, you surrender. The droplets begin to freeze on your face almost instantly, but you let yourself cry. After several minutes, you’re feeling slightly better - but you’re getting quite cold. You decide to head back to your car, at least turn the heat on while you try and figure out what to do, no need to stand here and get frostbite-
“Um, excuse me…”
You jump at the sound of the voice coming from behind you, whipping your head around to see a very bundled up man. You can’t see much of his face, but he looks to be in his late-twenties, with dark hair peeking out from under a thick beanie. It takes you a moment, but you realize it’s your next-door neighbor, Jihoon, whom you've met approximately once.
“I just wanted to check if you were okay,” he says loudly, doing his best to speak over the noisy wind. “You’ve been standing out here for a while.”
“Oh,” you reply, also speaking up. You wipe the tears off your cheeks with the back of your gloves. “Um, I’m kind of locked out of my house.”
“Is the lock frozen?”
“No- well actually, I don’t know, it might be, but I don’t have my key,” you explain, gesturing through the window. “It’s in there.”
“How did you manage to do that?” he inquires, not being condescending, but genuinely asking.
“The front door locks behind you when you leave.”
“Ohhh. Well that’s no good.” He pauses for a moment, looking at you curiously, before continuing.
“Um, well I know you don't know me very well, but if you need a place to wait while you call somebody you are welcome to come in,” he tilts his head toward his house. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything, but it’s really dangerous to be out in this storm.”
Normally, you’d be standoffish to a man you barely know inviting you into his house - but, something about him tells you you can trust him. He looks and sounds sincere, and you really don’t have anywhere else to go. Plus, you’re fucking freezing. You nod at him.
“I would really appreciate that,” you shout over the wind. He nods back, gesturing for you to follow along. He walks with you to his front door, the both of you taking large steps to trek through the several inches of snow that has already accumulated. He turns the knob and ushers you inside, following quickly and shutting the door behind him.
The sounds of the howling wind abruptly stop, the door creating a barricade between you and the heavy winter storm. Your ears ring slightly, but as you adjust to the quietness of indoors you pick up on a familiar tune playing from the other room.
“Is that En Bateau I hear?” you ask as you unlace your boots.
He’s in the middle of unwrapping his scarf from around his head, but he perks up at your question. “Yeah! You know Petite Suite?”
“It’s one of my favorites,” you reply warmly as you take off your coat. You try to avoid letting the jacket’s heavy dusting of snow fall to the floor, without success.
“Dammit, I got your floor all wet,” you inform him with a sigh. You realize you’re shivering - the house is warm, comfortably so, but standing out in the cold for however long you were out there certainly chilled you to your bones. He takes your coat from your hands, shaking off the rest of the snow before putting it on a hanger for you.
“Don’t even worry about it,” he tells you, grabbing a neatly folded towel from the closet and mopping up the mess. “There’s some blankets on the couch, you should warm yourself up.”
The prospect of a nice cozy blanket sends you speedwalking into the living room. You spot the stack of blankets, also neatly folded, and grab the thickest one you see - it’s plush and velvety, dark red in color, and gigantic. You wrap the soft fleece around your whole body, plopping cross-legged onto the couch, practically turning yourself into a cocoon. Immediately you start to warm up, your poor frozen extremities finally relieved of the painful cold. As you defrost, your brain begins to work again, processing your surroundings. Though you’ve never been inside, your neighbor’s abode feels very homely - the decor is largely cream-colored, accented with warm earth tones, doused in low lighting sourced from a few lamps placed strategically around the room. Though a plain, warm white, the walls are flourished tastefully with various unique artworks - nothing you recognize, but all very pleasing to the eye. Not that your ex was a slob, but you’ve never known a man to be so neat and tasteful. Refreshing, you think to yourself.
You hear soft footsteps from behind you as Jihoon enters the room. You turn to see him bearing a glass of water, a piping hot mug, and a small metal tin.
“I don’t know if you like tea,” he starts as he sets the beverages on the coffee table’s coasters. “But I thought you might want something warm to drink.”
“Tea sounds great, thank you so much,” you reply as you wiggle your arms out of the tangle of blanket surrounding you. Reaching for the tin, you pull out a bag of Earl Grey and place it in the mug to steep.
“It’s y/n, right?” he asks as he sits in a nearby armchair.
“That’s me,” you reply. “And you’re Jihoon, yes?”
He nods to confirm. “I know we met once a while ago,” he adds, “but I wasn’t sure if you remembered.”
"Of course I remember, I accidentally stole your packages,” you say with a laugh. “I felt bad about that for months.”
“No harm done, it was an honest mistake,” he replies with a calm smile.
The tea is nowhere near ready, but you take a sip anyway. The hot liquid sends a wave of warmth through your whole body, making you instantly feel much better. Now that you’re not freezing and in tears, you can finally think straight, and you remember why you’re here in the first place.
“I should call the locksmith, god knows how long it’s gonna take them to get here in this storm,” you state as you look around for your phone, but it’s nowhere to be seen.
“Oh, I think my phone is still in my bag.”
You start to get up, but Jihoon is faster.
“Here, I’ll grab it for you.”
He disappears from the room in an instant, returning a few moments later with your bag in hand. Thanking him politely, you rummage around for your phone until you find it. You open Google and type locksmith into the search, calling the first one you see with good reviews.
“I’m sorry ma’am, due to the storm we aren’t able to send anyone out until tomorrow.”
You try another one, but it’s the same story. A third one, no luck either. Nobody is able to come out until tomorrow morning. Dejected, you go ahead and schedule an appointment for 7am the next day. You do your best to remain calm, but you’re too exhausted to hold in your tears.
“I don’t know what to do,” you say to Jihoon, burying your face with your hands.
“Hey,” he replies softly. “It’s gonna be okay. You can stay here as long as you need.”
“I don’t want to be a bother,” you sigh.
“You’re not,” he assures you. “I promise. You’re welcome to take the guest room.”
“Are you sure?” you say with a sniffle, wiping the tears from your eyes.
“Of course,” he nods.
“Thank you so much,” you tell him sincerely. “You’re a lifesaver.”
“No problem at all,” he says with a soft smile. “Also, are you hungry? I have some leftover stew I was going to heat up, if you’d like some.”
You didn’t even realize that you were hungry, but the mention of food makes your stomach rumble.
“That sounds amazing,” you reply.
Jihoon spends a few minutes in the kitchen, returning with two steaming bowls of a hearty-looking beef stew.
“This is delicious,” you remark as you scoop another chunk of potato into your mouth. “I’m gonna need your recipe.”
“Oh, thank you,” Jihoon replies humbly. “I’m glad you like it.”
Several moments of silence pass between you two as you enjoy the meal, the music of Debussy’s piano filling the room in lieu of conversation. But instead of it being awkward, you feel peaceful, replenished from the food and the warmth of Jihoon’s home.
“Is there anything you want to watch?” he eventually turns to ask you. “I like having something on while I eat, but if not it’s okay.”
“Sounds good to me,” you reply. “What are you watching right now?”
“Oh, um, I like… anime,” he says sheepishly, turning slightly pink with embarrassment. “But we definitely don’t have to watch that. What do you like?”
“Have you seen The Great British Bake Off?” you respond. “It’s on Netflix.”
“Never heard of it,” he admits, but he already has the tv remote in hand, opening the app.
“I haven’t seen the new season yet, if you want to start there.”
“Will I understand it if I haven’t seen the other seasons?” he inquires, causing you to giggle.
“It’s a reality show, each season is different,” you fill him in, proceeding to explain the premise. He listens earnestly, but his facial expression tells you he is skeptical.
“It’s really good, I promise!” you assure him.
“I don’t really get it,” he admits with a confused look on his face. “But if you say it’s good, I’ll take your word for it.”
He puts on the first episode, letting you explain the different challenges to him. About halfway through the episode, he turns to you.
“So… what exactly do they win?”
“A cake stand,” you answer. The look of bewilderment on his face makes you laugh again.
“So they don’t even get any money from it??”
“Nope,” you reply, cozying up under the blanket again. “That’s why it’s so wholesome.”
“Ah, okay,” he says, still unsure about the whole thing. But by the end of the first episode, he’s hooked.
“How do they do that??” he remarks at each contestant’s fanciful cake in the final challenge, his eyes glued to the tv. As soon as the credits start to roll, he clicks the Next Episode button.
“See? I told you it was good,” you say with a sleepy smile. The combination of the satisfying dinner, the warmth of the blanket, and the relaxing nature of the show is quickly making your eyelids turn heavy. You lean your head against the back of the couch, determined not to doze off - but within a few minutes, you are fast asleep.
The soft light of early dawn glows through your closed eyelids as you begin to awaken. You’re so warm and comfortable that you don’t even bother opening your eyes - instead you just lay there, relaxing under the blankets. As your brain slowly wakes, last night’s events start to register in your mind - you grimace as you recall the bitter cold of being stuck outside your own house, having a breakdown, feeling utterly helpless until-
Your eyes pop open. Sleepily adjusting to the morning light filtering in through the windows, you see that you’re still in Jihoon’s house, on the couch. You turn your face to see a pillow underneath your head that wasn’t there previously, and an extra knit blanket draped over the red fleece one that was already wrapped around you. Jihoon is nowhere in sight, presumably still asleep. You wonder what time it is - when suddenly you remember the locksmith appointment you made for 7am. Panicked, you bolt upright, searching for your phone amidst the blankets, until you spot it laying upon the coffee table, plugged into a charger that isn’t yours. You snatch it up, your heart sinking when you see the time: 7:34am.
“SHIT,” you grumble to yourself. You hurriedly unravel yourself from the tangle of blankets - it’s still warm in his house, but a chill hits you in the absence of the cozy covers. Sitting fully upright, you feel your feet bump something as they touch the carpet. Looking down, you spot a pair of slippers - light beige in color, women’s, brand new with the tags still on. For a moment you feel a bit weird about putting them on (Why does he have these, anyway?), but you’re cold, and at this point you don’t care. You slip them on, the comfort of the fluffy interior immediately making you glad you did. They feel high quality - luxurious even, and now you feel nice and toasty. Rising from the couch, you grab the top blanket and wrap it around you. The inviting scent of coffee suddenly hits you - you follow it into the kitchen, where Jihoon stands before a brewing coffee pot. Noticing you have entered the room, he turns to greet you.
“Good morning,” he says warmly. He wears a pair of plaid pajama pants, seemingly with a matching top underneath a dark fleece quarter-zip. You note that he also has slippers on, not too dissimilar from the ones currently on your feet. As the coffee finishes brewing, he grabs two mugs, gesturing to you with one.
“Would you like some coffee?”
“I’d love some,” you answer. He takes the pot and pours the piping hot beverage into your mug.
“Cream and sugar?”
“Yes, please.”
He fixes your drink and hands you the steaming mug. You take a small, careful sip, your insides instantly warmed by the smooth brew.
“Delicious, thank you,” you tell him, taking another generous sip.
“Of course,” he nods.
“Guess I missed the locksmith,” you say with a sigh. “I should’ve thought to set an alarm before I passed out.”
He turns, reaching for something on the counter. Turning back, he extends his hand to you, your keys laying in his palm.
“Already taken care of,” he says with a smile.
“How did you…” Your words trail off as you take the keys, your fingertips lightly grazing his warm skin.
“I met the locksmith and explained the situation,” he explains. “He picked the lock in like, one minute.” He gives you an apologetic look as he continues. “I’m sorry I went into your house without asking you first, I felt bad, but I didn’t want to have to wake you and drag you out into the cold.”
“Don’t apologize,” you reply, shaking your head quickly. “I really really appreciate it.”
“I’m glad I could help,” he tells you with a soft smile.
“Thank you for the pillow too,” you add. “And the slippers, glad you had these laying around,” you say with a grin. His smile fades slightly, glancing away for a moment.
“They were supposed to be a gift,” he says as he looks at you again. “But I didn’t need them anymore. You can keep them.” He smiles, but despite trying to hide it, his tone is tinged with sadness.
“Oh,” you say softly. “You sure?”
He hesitates slightly, unsure whether to tell you.
“They were for my girlfriend, but she left me a couple weeks ago,” he admits. He looks down at his coffee, stirring it aimlessly with the spoon. A pang of sympathy hits you.
“I’m sorry,” you say gently. “I unfortunately can relate. My fiancé left me five days ago, for another woman.”
He perks his head up slightly in surprise. “Oh wow, what an awful week this must be. I’m sorry, too.”
“Yeah, quite honestly, it fucking sucks,” you say, staring off into space a bit.
“I was about to propose,” he adds, unsure exactly why he’s telling you this. But you both are feeling a newfound, unspoken kinship in your aligned misfortunes. “But one day she just told me she didn’t love me anymore.”
“Jesus, that’s terrible, I’m so sorry,” you empathize. “I found out my fiancé was cheating on me and confronted him. He didn’t even give a shit so I kicked him out, haven’t seen or heard from him since.”
“Wow,” Jihoon says with wide eyes. He lets out a sigh. “I had already bought a ring, too. She didn’t know, but I had the whole proposal planned out.” He shrugs, shaking his head. “I guess it’s for the better that she left before I even bothered.”
“Yeah, doesn’t make it any less painful though.”
“Definitely not. And I wasn’t even able to return the ring.” He laughs, letting out an incredulous huff.
“Oh my god,” you react in bewilderment.
“It’s alright,” he says calmly. “Maybe I’ll be able to use it someday.”
His eyes linger on you slightly too long as the words roll off his tongue. The moment is brief, fleeting - but it’s enough for you to notice.
“Would you like any more coffee?” he asks before you can fully process anything, nudging the pot in your direction.
“I’m alright, thank you,” you reply, finishing the last bit in your mug.
“Here, I’ll take it.”
“I better get going, now that I can actually get into my house,” you announce with a smile. “I’ll get out of your hair.”
“You weren’t a bother at all,” he assures you. “But I’m sure you’re dying to go home.”
Jihoon walks to his entryway. He gathers your things for you, taking your coat from the closet and helping you into it.
“I truly can’t thank you enough,” you tell him sincerely. “You really saved my ass.”
He smiles at you. “You’re very welcome. It was nice to finally properly meet you, y/n.”
He hands you something as he opens the door for you. You take it - it’s a blue sticky note, with his name and phone number written neatly on it.
“You can always call me if you need anything at all.”
“Thank you,” you smile warmly, folding the note and tucking it safely into your pocket. “I will.”
♡ pairing: xu minghao x afab!reader
♡ theme: smut [18+ mdni], pwp
♡ wc: 1.1k
♡ warnings: unprotected piv sex (don't do this), fingering, oral (f. receiving), choking (f. receiving), size kink if u squint, creampie, cum swallowing, petnames (baby, good girl)
♡ a/n: happy holidays @haologram!!! written as part of @camandemstudios secret santa event - hope u enjoy bestie 🫶 and tysm @miniseokminnies for the banner <3
“Hao… please…”
Your whines fill the air as your boyfriend’s long fingers trace slowly up and down your pussy, the heat of his breath on your exposed cunt sending a shiver up your spine. He’s been at this for way too long, teasing you with the most delicate touches all over your body, torturously dragging out foreplay so long that you feel like you're going to explode.
“What is it baby? Tell me,” he speaks softly as he plants a slow kiss on your inner thigh. He fixes his eyes on your desperate face, eyelids heavy with a sultry gaze as he gives you another kiss. His mouth is so close to your cunt - but nowhere near close enough. Your clit aches, throbbing against nothing, begging for the relief of Minghao’s touch.
“Need your mouth on me,” you plead, your voice wavering pathetically. He drags his middle finger in a circle around your bud, causing you to let out a sad-sounding whimper, your hips involuntarily bucking into the air in search of Minghao’s lips. But, he’s quicker, raising his chin enough for his mouth to be just out of reach.
“Patience, love,” he responds, but you see the glimmer of a smile forming upon his face, relishing in watching you lose composure beneath him. He loves how needy you are, and the fact that he can do the bare minimum and still make you dripping wet in no time makes him incredibly turned on.
Eventually, he can't wait any longer. He presses his plump red lips against your clit, kissing it delicately, making you sigh from the relief of his touch. He flattens his tongue against your cunt, giving you a slow lick; he repeats it again, and again - by the fourth time, you're squirming against the sheets. He wraps his arms around your thighs, holding you in place as he swirls the tip of his tongue around your clit, eliciting a moan from deep within.
“Oh god…”
He drags his tongue back down, pressing it into your hole, again and again until he’s fully tongue-fucking you. His nose grazes your swollen clit, sending an electric shock through you each time. You feel like you're going to cum already - it feels too fast, he just started properly going down on you. But, you can't help it - Minghao is simply too skilled in bringing you pleasure.
He pauses, raising his head and making eye contact with you. His face is glistening, covered in your juices. Eyes filled with hunger, he grins at you lazily before suddenly hoisting your thighs upwards. You yelp as he shifts your hips, practically folding you in half so he can have full, uninhibited access to your pussy. He takes your clit gently between his lips, suckling on it lightly; with a low groan your head falls back onto the pillow. He unwraps his arm from one of your thighs, bringing his fingertips to your cunt, brushing up and down your soaked slit a few times before pushing his first two fingers inside you. You cry out as he curls his fingers, stroking your g-spot as he suctions back onto your clit. He fucks you with his fingers - slowly at first, but the more you wriggle beneath him the faster he goes, pumping his fingers at the perfect rhythm.
“Oh my god, Minghao…”
He's never told you outright that you moaning his name is the hottest sound he could ever hear, but he doesn't have to. He buries his face in your pussy, sucking on your clit while his fingers work their magic. You grasp onto the bedsheets, your back arching as your climax nears, closer and closer, until-
“Oh god, I’m cumming…”
You release hits like a bolt of lightning, sending shockwaves of pleasure rolling through your body as your orgasm takes control. Minghao sucks on your clit ceaselessly as you cum on his fingers, making you see stars as your body trembles, riding out your high. Your chest rises with heavy breaths as you start to come down, your body relaxing into the bed - but neither of you are anywhere near done.
Minghao gives you one last kiss on your pulsating bud before lifting himself up to kiss you on the lips, his hand caressing the back of your neck as he makes out with you lovingly. The head of his cock bumps against your pussy; you lower yourself onto him, your overwhelming wetness taking in his tip with ease. You groan as he slowly pushes the rest of his length into you, his thickness stretching your walls deliciously. He gives you a moment to get used to his size, but you're impatient.
“Please fuck me,” you whimper, looking up at him with utter desperation. He too can't wait a moment longer - he begins to thrust into you, long and slow strokes, letting his cock feel every inch of your pussy. You reach for his arm, tugging at his wrist - and he knows exactly what you want. He drags his hand up your torso, stopping for a moment to squeeze your breasts, before wrapping his hand around your throat. His fingers squeeze into your neck, choking you as he thrusts deep into your pussy. Your eyes beg and plead him to fuck you harder as gagging noises fill the air - a fire builds in his gut, pounding into you harder and harder, until he can't resist any longer. With a string of deep moans he releases, his cum spilling into your pussy, painting your insides with his hot ropes. His cock throbs against your walls as the last few spurts fill you to the brim. After a few moments, he slowly pulls his cock out. His cum dribbles out of your hole, but he quickly catches it, stuffing it back into your cunt.
“That’s my good girl,” he coos. “Taking all my cum in your pretty pussy.”
You whine as he slowly pulls his fingers out; you grab his forearm, drawing his milky-white coated hand up to your face. You wrap your mouth around his fingers, sucking slowly, swallowing all of the excess cum.
“Oh, wow,” he mutters softly. “My baby is so perfect.”
He wraps his arm around your torso, rolling over onto his side and taking you in his embrace. His skin is hot against yours, dewey with sweat, holding you tight as he presses a deep kiss onto your cheek. You breathe in tandem, warm and safe in each other’s arms, lulling you both into a blissful trance.