#My latest offering to the Muse

[mugmegan]

Dyeing Power's hair so they look like siblings to hide her identity.

This is for the latest chapter of the Devour You Whole series by @mistystarshine

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | oneshot smut [18+]

luxury & lingerie. a retail au

“𝐀𝐥𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲’𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞. 𝐋𝐞𝐭’𝐬 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐭. 𝐈’𝐦 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤.”

ᰔ pairing. retail au - rolex salesman gojo x victoria's secret associate reader (f)

ᰔ summary. gojo is the rolex watch shop's pretty boy & you're the victoria's secret lingerie store's new hire that works across from him. let's just say he's determined to get inside your pants.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, porn with plot (seriously that's all it is), smut, casual sex, possibly comedic, lots of terrible flirting, tiny bit of fluff if you squint, gojo's got a daddy kink that you really have no interest in entertaining, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, creampie, blowjobs, oral sex, praise kink, some degradation, sort of cum play, banter, suguru & choso are in it too (the hot-boy sales trio)

ᰔ word count. 6.5k

a/n. hellooo this started with this concept idea i had of hot retail worker gojo who just wants to flirt with you instead of actually do his job lmfao. this was seriously just a stream of my consciousness. hope you enjoy! and thanks to everyone that wanted to be on taglist for this. creds to @quinnyundertow for the sephora lipstick idea.

The sound of Suguru’s voice was the last thing going through Gojo’s mind right now.

“Anyways, I put the car in reverse, she’s on aux. I’m thinking, she’s gotta have good taste, right? She’s the one that suggested the Maneskin concert in the first place. But you know what she starts playing? Country music. Fucking country music. And I’m not necessarily opposed to a good— dude, are you even listening?”

Choso leans over the polished display case of the mens’ latest Rolex models, staring at the two idiots in front of him. “No, he’s not. He’s been ogling the tits on that mannequin over there for the past five minutes.”

Gojo finally blinks out of his trance, irritated. “I’m not staring at the mannequin, I’m staring at—”

You. New hire. Over at the Victoria’s Secret that was across from his turf at the mall. You were standing on your tiptoes on a mini ladder, wobbling a little, reaching up for a mannequin at the display window to switch out the corny yellow sleeping mask on its face for one that was a more sleek, satin blue. 

The fabric of your uniform slid up slightly, skin of your midriff exposed, and he has to suck a breath in through his teeth.

“I called dibs on that a week ago,” Suguru says from where he stood, lazily leaning on the counter.

“No fucking way. I’ve got dibs.”

“Dibs? Really? I work with a bunch of prepubescents,” Choso groans, tipping his head back to stare up at fluorescent mall lighting.

Suguru’s voice sounds like he’s lax at the jaw. “Is anyone gonna tell her that’s the ladder they use to prop the door open, and not the one to flash Satoru’s horny ass while changing out a mannequin?” 

“I’ll be the one to tell her,” Gojo says.

At the display window, you slowly peel the panties off of the mannequin without a thought in the world to use the store’s modesty curtain, and Gojo, Suguru & Choso are all staring. And probably every other man within the store’s radius.

“Holy fuck,” Gojo says, strained.

“Holy fuck, indeed,” Suguru marvels.

“She’s clueless,” Choso sighs.

“You can have the mannequin, I get the girl,” Suguru offers, something just to get under Gojo’s skin.

“Shut up. I’m going over there.” He stands up onto his feet from the leather client chair he had been sprawled across up until this point of his shift.

“Can’t wait for you to royally fuck this up,” Choso muses with a smirk, arms crossing at his chest.

Gojo grumbles something under his breath when he hears Suguru’s coo of agreement, and then he’s making his way across to the Victoria’s Secret entrance. He unbuttons the top two buttons of his black dress shirt, as if he expects the sight of the skin at his collarbone to have you seduced like a victorian man seeing a lady’s ankle for the first time.

He makes it through the welcoming glass doors that lead into the sultry & dark ambience that you would expect of a lingerie store, and he rounds to the right, stopping a few feet away from you.

You were combing through a rack now, lips pursed in concentration until he clears his throat.

Glancing over, your shoulders tense and you pull your retail headset earpiece down, leaving it hanging by the wire that was clipped to the neckline of your shirt. His eyes flicker to the nametag pinned above the curve of your breast. You look at him with wide eyes. “Oh, hi sir. How can I help you?”

“Oh, no, I’m not a customer,” Gojo quickly corrects you, although he liked the sound of sir from your lips, “I work over there.” He points with a jerk of his chin towards the obnoxiously gaudy exterior of the Rolex watch store facing the two of you.

You blink at him. “Ah, I see.”

“You new here?” Gojo asks, taking a step forward and resting his elbow up on the metal bar of the rack just to get more into your space. “Haven’t seen you around.”

The corner of your lip turns up slightly at his words. “Why? Do you keep a roster?”

“I—no, not really,” he responds, already a little speechless, “wait, a roster of what?” He’d say he does if it’s a roster of pretty girls he’s been fantasizing about tit-fucking all day long, with you being at the top—no, the only one—on that list.

You shrug a little. It’s kind of meek and cute. “Of new hires?”

He breathes in deep. “Yes. Yes, I do. I just like to make sure the newbies feel welcome around here. Y’know, taken care of.” 

You smile, turn to face him and relax your posture. “Oh. That’s sweet. Yeah, I feel pretty welcome here, thanks.”

“That’s good.”

“I mean, everyone’s been really nice to me so far.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm, and I really like the break room on this floor. The last place I worked at didn’t have a toaster oven.”

“No way.”

“I wish the clock-in machine was easier to use though…”

“For sure.”

You glance at him suspiciously in the middle of your rant. “Why are you staring at me?”

“Cause you’re real pretty, angel.”

Your brow raises, the keys hooked to the loop of your jeans jingling as you place a curled hand to your hip. “Angel? Really? Cause of— cause of Victoria’s Secret angels?”

Gojo’s stiff, his elbow still resting on the cool metal pole, and he glances up at the ceiling before looking back down at you. “Uhh…sure? Yes.”

“That’s not very original.”

“Man, you’re really making me work hard for this. Unfortunately, that only makes me want you more.” He leans down closer to you, to catch the scent on your skin, and he can’t tell if you’re amused or annoyed from the way your cheeks round as you narrow your eyes at him.

“This is you working hard for it? You haven’t even told me your name yet, watch boy.”

He sees your fingers wrap around the cold metal bar of the rack, and he tries hard not to picture them wrapped around something else, but to no avail. You jut your hip out to bump him, pushing him out of your way, before you start rolling the rack down the store.

He trails behind you. “My name. It’s Satoru. But to you, I can be dadd-”

You stop in your tracks, turning around to face him with a scowl, but he was too distracted by the shape of your backside to be reflexive enough to stop himself in time, and he ends up crashing right into you. The momentum has you falling back with a gasp, tripping over the foot of the rack, and his arm flies around your waist to keep you upright, and then pressed up against him too just for good measure.

His face is just inches away from yours. “Shit. Sorry.”

Your arms are squished between his chest and yours, pinky tickling the skin at his collarbone, and the contact has him reeling. “I-It’s fine,” you say, lashes fluttering, “now let go of me, before I file a harassment complaint.”

He instantly retreats, releasing you, watching you stumble a bit before gaining your balance again. “God, no, please,” he sighs, “I really need this job.”

“You don’t act like it,” you mumble. You fix your hair in front of him and tuck the fabric of your shirt that came loose back into your jeans. He doesn’t have to touch your cheeks to know they feel hot, he can tell from the purse of your lips and the way you won’t make eye contact with him. 

The voices of a couple women are heard from down the aisle, as well as the plastic clinking of hangers on racks as they peruse the sheer bralettes dangling in color-coded fashion. Gojo sees you struggling to pull the rack you were working with away to the side to let them through, and he comes up behind you, gripping the metal bar to do it for you. He catches the fragrance of your hair at the crown of your head, and he inhales slowly.

The women walk by, throwing a few curious glances at the two of you, and Gojo doesn’t move from where he’s holding onto the rack and has his arm pressed against yours, his only lifeline to find some reason to touch you right now.

You start pushing the rack forward again, and he continues to follow you, keeping a more respectful following distance this time. He’s distracted by the pair of crotchless panties hung over your shoulder. He picks them up by the string. “Who the fuck actually wears these?” he asks, dangling them in front of his face and turning them around in the air to inspect it.

Your eyes are set forward for your destination. “Middle-aged women that are desperate to seduce their husbands before those men ride the high of buying a $100k watch by fucking a twenty-something-year-old instead.” You snatch the pair from his hand. “I’m rooting for those women. The men at your Rolex store? Not so much.” 

He’s on your heel until you round to a smaller section of the store, wheeling the rack over to a corner near the collection of lace panties sprinkled across cubbies under dim purple lighting. He glances over his shoulder and takes note that this area’s tucked away from the eyesights of the cash registers and storefront. 

He hears you sigh, then say “Why are you following me?”

He meanders closer to you with his hands shoved in the pockets of his slacks. “Because…y’know, like I said, I wanna make the new hire feel settled in.”

“I literally feel so very unsettled by you right now,” you say to him with a wry expression as you start sorting through lace underwear, referencing some chart in your hand to get it right.

He walks up to you and peers over your shoulder at the illustration, and notices the way you stiffen a bit but also lean back into him. “Huh…so the cheeky panties go in the left top & bottom cubes. And they’re the ones with medium coverage and…” he squints his eyes at the chart, dim lighting doing him no favors, “and they have an alarming fit.”

You scoff through your nose. “It says alluring fit. Can you read?” 

“I— shut up. Yes I can read.”

You twirl around to face him, a hint of an amused smile to your lips. His eyes widen a bit at the sight of it, until he registers it’s a cheeky one, like those panties.

“Watch boy is illiterate. Must be why you still work in retail.”

“Yes, keep being mean to me, new hire. It’s hot,” he groans, hands still in his pockets as he leans towards you. You don’t shy away, just keep on looking up at him in this little corner he has you in, a twinkle in your pupils now that he wasn’t seeing earlier. 

He’s surprised when your finger hooks the fabric in between two of the buttons on his shirt. You play with the material, pinching it, but never tug on it. “What’s a grown ass man like yourself doing still working for commission at a mall?” 

“Okay, ouch, a little too mean,” he backtracks, watching your tongue briefly swipe across your lip, “let’s be a bit nicer.”

Now you’re tugging on the fabric, hooked finger pulling him closer to you until his hands have to fly out of his pockets and his palms press against the wall, caging you into it. “Illiterate and can’t take a dig. Pick a struggle,” you say to him with a sweet look up.

He’s getting the sense that you’re into him too. He grabs hold of your waist, thumbs rubbing your torso over the fabric of your uniform just to get a feel. “Well,” he starts, bringing your hips forward to his, pressing the erection he was building against you, “this illiterate retail worker could fuck you real good if you’d just give him the chance.”

A small gasp leaves your lips, eyes widening and you tuck your bottom lip under your teeth. Fuck, he wants to kiss you. Wants to be the one biting your lip right now. Your hand grabs his forearm, over the veins strained from his grip on you, your nails sinking into the skin left exposed by his rolled up sleeve. “It’s…It’s real well, watch boy. You’d fuck me real well.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, I’ll fuck you real well,” he tells you, as his head tips towards your cheek, lips brushing against it. It was just a tease, so he pulls away but still looks down at you in closeness. There’s voices around the corner, but he doesn’t really care.

“You’re awfully forward,” you breathe out, and he almost goes insane at the soft whimper that leaves your lips when he can’t help but jerk his hips forward a bit. 

“Y’know what? Fuck it,” he grumbles, pulling the rack across behind him so he’s created a covered haven for the two of you against this wall, and then he kisses you.

There’s a yelp that he muffles from you as his lips move against yours, slow, because you're new to him and he wants to savor it. His hand finds the small of your back, spreads across it, pushing you to arch towards him, and his teeth catch your bottom lip when he feels your breasts press against him. You’re pliant, opening your mouth for him, and he takes up the offer to taste you. Soft & warm pressed up against him, a subtle sweetness on your tongue, and he only pulls away because you squeeze his shoulder hard.

You’re breathing fast, cheeks shy, a little cutely cross-eyed from his proximity when you look up at him. “I-…okay, I’m a little mad that you’re a good kisser.”

He hums, tip of his nose brushing against yours slightly and you grip the collar of his shirt to keep him close. “I’ll kiss you nice in a lot of other places too.”

It doesn’t really take much convincing after that.

“Oh…oh my god—,” you mewl, back against the mirror of one of this fine lingerie establishment’s fitting room stalls, legs wrapped around his waist as he fucks you raw with the aim to please.

“Shit, knew you’d be tight,” he groans, pressing a kiss to your jaw when you tip your head back in pleasure, throat loose with a moan, “pretty little new hire. Just had to break you in.”

“S-Satoru,” you moan through a breath, the sound of his name on your tongue having his cock twitch inside your walls, mixed with the pain of the grip you had on the hair at the back of his head. 

He has your shirt bunched up along with your bra, tits exposed for him. His head dips to pull a nipple through his teeth as he feeds you with a few slow, deep thrusts, and his eye catches the earpiece of your headset, still clipped to your shirt, bouncing around with every one of his movements inside you. “Really hope that thing’s off,” he mumbles against your skin, “but if it excites you to have it on, I—fuck, I wouldn’t really mind either way.”

Your hand flies to his bicep when he runs his thumb over your clit, legs wrapping around him even tighter. “More. Need more,” you say, head in a haze, and he really could’ve cum inside you right then and there but he holds out to enjoy some more time buried in the warm pleasure of your cunt.

“If you want something from me,” he grunts between thrusts, “you’re gonna have to beg me for it, love.”

“Fuck me harder,” you cry, eyes shut closed, and he almost feels sorry for you.

“That’s a demand,” he informs, pinching the flesh of your ass and enjoying the way you clench around him from the action, “I told you to beg.”

“Please, oh my god, please—,” you start, moving your hips against his now, and he hears the lewd sound of your flesh slapping more fervently against the mirror. “Please fuck me harder.”

“Good girl. Pretty girl,” he praises you, thumb finding your clit again as a reward, “see what you get for being so nice to me now.”

He bucks his hips harder, your arms wrapping around his neck in desperation, chin resting at the top of his head as his lips fall to your neck, and he kisses, nibbles, sucks, anything to get that sweet taste in his mouth while he draws stars over your sensitive bud, eliciting broken whimpers from you over and over again. 

“Gonna let me cum inside?” he asks, feeling his balls jump at just the thought of filling you up, his thighs feeling hot from the anticipation of you giving him the permission. “All that shit talk earlier about me being a dumb mall worker, but you’d still let me finish in you, right?” His hips stutter slightly, vision starting to blur, and he feels your walls flutter tightly too, “cause I bet it turns you on that you’re letting this dumb retail man fuck you senseless in a flimsy little fitting room right now, regardless.”

“Satoru, please,” you’re begging, the crack in your voice hoarse like you’re about to cry from the pleasure.

“Answer me,” he demands, retreating the thumb that was toying with your clit. He pulls one of your arms from where it was wrapped around his neck to pin your wrist to the mirror. “You want me to cum inside you or not?” 

Your hips press so harshly against his that he hardly has any leeway to thrust anymore, and it makes him hiss in protest, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass to let up. “I want—mhh, I want you to cum inside me, please, please,” you plead, desperate, grinding your clit against the skin above his cock, above the place he was buried to the hilt inside of you.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, the sweet words processing in his head, and he loses all sense of control, motions eager and desperate, chasing after his high and his thumb is barely considerate enough to chase after yours too as it rubs relentlessly over your puffed up clit. You shiver against him, walls clenching around his cock impossibly tight, legs wrapping around his waist possibly even tighter, and he feels every nerve as you come undone around him. The gripping sensation your orgasm had on him has him faltering with harsh thrusts forward, and he holds your hips flush to his as the first spurt of his cum spills into you, followed by more with repetitive juts of his hips until he’s emptied himself entirely into you, and you’re just pumped full of him.

You swat at his chest, squirming as he leaks the last drop from the tip of his dick, and he can tell you’re overstimulated.

“Sorry,” he says through a short exhale, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, and he slowly pulls out of you, cock falling limp over his thigh, and he holds you until you find footing on the ground, albeit a bit wobbly. 

“Oh no,” you mewl, clenching your thighs together when you feel his cum starting to drip out, and he quickly bends down to hook your panties up back into place. You give him a pointed look. 

“What? The easiest clean-up is not letting it out,” he says, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you to him so he gets to feel the plushness of your bare breasts against him and he kisses the top of your head. “You’re real good, new hire. Or whatever the fucking proper way to say it is.”

He can tell you’re rolling your eyes even though your face is buried in his chest.

“You’re a dumbass,” you say, sounding muffled.

—

Gojo spends about 90% of his shifts meandering across the shimmering tile floors of the mall to the Victoria’s Secret, and only spends about 10% of them actually being a watch salesman. His boss was starting to get real fuckin’ fed up with him, threatening to fire him yesterday for the two-hour lunch break he took because he was eating you out in a storage closet, but he really couldn’t be bothered to care. He was an addict, and he needed to get his fix. Not before annoying the shit out of you, though.

“Alright, daddy’s home. Let’s get to it. I’m on my lunch break,” he says, walking right up to you in the middle of your shift while you’re folding slip dresses onto a display table, his hand reaching for your waist but you retreat from him.

“For that, get the fuck away from me.”

He sighs. “I’ve been wanting to touch you all day long. Do you purposefully walk your gorgeous self across the front of the store that many times just to tease the hell out of me? I’m suffering.”

“I walk across the storefront because I’m doing my job,” you mumble to him.

“No, I swear, you do it to—”

“Sweets,” one of your coworkers calls out to you from the other end of the store, the one with a pink buzzcut that acts kinda scary. “Is that man bothering you?” she asks through a smack of her gum, “want me to call security?”

“Yes.”

“What—”

After a couple of minutes of vindicating himself to mall security that he is not a threat to public safety, which you watch in amusement with no help at all, he’s shortly back at your side in a different section of the store to annoy you.

“When are you gonna wear one of these for me?” he asks, holding up a pair of jaguar-print panties. 

“Never,” you say to him, scanning the tags on the underwear in a box of new arrivals, “those are ugly.”

“Okay, how about these,” he says, pulling a pair out of the box. “They’re see-through. I like that.”

“No,” you say, snatching it out of his hand.

“Oh c’mon,” he groans, doing a quick glance over his shoulder to check if the coast is clear before taking a step forward, pulling you to him by a finger hooked through the belt hoop of your jeans. “I’ll buy them for you. Ring me up.”

You look up at him, hand placed on his chest but you weren’t pushing him away just yet. “Really? You’re gonna buy me panties from the store I literally work at? At least have the decency to shoplift them for me.”

He has a smile on his face when he leans down closer to you, both hands now playing with the loops of your jeans. “Ohhh you’re into criminals. Will you tackle me to the ground if I do?”

“Yes, to arrest you. Not to fuck you.”

“Why not both?”

“Satoru,” you chastise him when you hear footsteps around the corner, and now you’re pushing him away and clearing your throat before busying yourself with the box again as a few customers walk by. Gojo shoves his hands in his pockets, and then his eyes widen a bit when his knuckles hit something.

“Oh yeah,” he says, “I got you this.” He pulls out a small, shimmering black tube and holds it out to you with an up facing palm. 

You lean forward to glance at it. “Is that…lipstick?”

“Yeah,” he says, “the lady outside Sephora was giving out samples.”

You cross your arms at your chest. “The lady outside Sephora was giving out free samples of lipstick to you?”

“Can you just take it already? My arm’s starting to hurt.”

You swipe it from him and inspect it. Popping the cap open, you twist the cheap plastic adjuster so that the tip of the wax peaks out. It was a deep shade of red. “Did she try to talk to you?”

“Uhh, yeah. Something about how this new formula is smudge-proof or something. Was hoping we could test that out.”

You roll your eyes. “She probably wanted to test that out. With you.”

“What, are you jealous?” 

“Not really, no,” you say and hand the lipstick back to him. He looks at you puzzled. “Lipstick isn’t really for me, sorry.” 

“I literally saw you wear some the other day. That’s what gave me the idea,” he says, “of turning my dick into the shade of your lipstick.”

“Could you be any louder?” you hiss at him, glancing at a coworker who could’ve potentially been in earshot.

He shrugs and pinches the tube of lipstick between two of his fingers, holding it up between the two of you. “You sure you don’t wanna?”

Turns out you were not too opposed to the idea, but he had to earn it by making you cum a couple times in the janitor’s closet at the end of the floor. He likes having to earn the sight of you on your knees, it turned him on way more than he had expected.

“My jaw is so fucking sore,” he complains, opening and closing his mouth a few times to stretch it out, then runs a hand across his jawline. “You were a lot less sensitive today. Took way longer.”

“Maybe you’re just not as good as you think you are,” you say, pulling the buckle of his belt loose, sitting back down onto your heels to get more comfortable while you undress him.

“Bullshit. Should’ve used that insult maybe the first or second time I gave you head. It’s too late now, after the filthy things you’ve said to me in your desperation to cum.”

He watches you flutter your lashes a few times, fingers stopping their movements, and you shift a little from where you were seated on the ground. You were aroused, but still committed to the attitude. “I don’t have to do this for you, you know.”

He shudders a little. “Wait, you seriously don’t want to? You don’t have to.”

You sigh. “You were supposed to demand me to do it anyways. Would’ve been hot.” You pull his belt loose and your thumb and index finger pinch the button open with ease. “You don’t wanna fuck me, though?”

“Of course I want to fuck you, I will always want to fuck you. But the last time we got rowdy in here, I almost killed you when I knocked the shelf over.” A chill runs down his spine. “Not taking any more chances.”

You giggle a little at the memory while zipping down the front, then your fingers dig into the fabric of both his slacks and his boxers, pulling them down until he’s sprung free, fully thick and hard, courtesy of the cute sounds you were making earlier while his tongue was playing with your clit.

“Are you not gonna put the lipstick on?” he asks.

“No.” You grab a hold of him mid-way, giving an experimental tug, and raise from your seated position onto your knees. 

“But—”

“I told you, lipstick isn’t my style,” you say, eyes flickering up to him when you kiss the tip. He sucks a breath in.

“Damn, okay. I was genuinely curious if it was smudge proof. The lady was really hyping it up,” he says and he sees your shoulders drop.

“Enough of the Sephora lady,” you mumble, pressing your lips against his tip again, but as less of a kiss.

There’s a sulk in your posture from where you look up at him on your knees. His heart does this weird thing where it aches a little, and he wants to get rid of the pout on your face with a few sweet words, but he settles for pushing the tip of his cock past your lips instead. Works all the same in the end. “Good girl,” he groans when you take him all the way to the back of your throat, and your fingernails dig into the skin of his thigh as you let out a muffled moan.

“Fuck…” He pulls his hips back slightly, allowing you to adjust, but when you swallow and his tip feels the roll of those muscles, he’s pushing into your mouth again. “C-Can you take more?”

You try your best to give him a nod and you bob your head once, tongue swiping over the vein that was throbbing the proof of his need for you right now. 

“I’ll finish fast, baby,” he tells you, voice husky, fingers combing through your hair gently, “just take it how I want it, and I promise I’ll be quick, okay?”

You nod again, thumb rubbing the skin near his groin in reassurance. You squirm a little and press your thighs together when he grips your hair tighter now, encouraging your head to bob up and down on him, and you do as he wants. Your cheeks hollow out, sucking on him, and he swears he’s already close to cumming.

“Yeah…fuck, yeah,” he grunts under his breath, “good. Just—just like that. You’re so good. Pretty girl,” he juts his hips forward to see if you can take it, and you do, “on her knees for me.”

Your throat vibrates with a moan, and he sees you squirm even more. You take him all the way in, to a place deeper than the back of your throat, so well without a gag but there’s a prickle of tears in your eyes, and he rubs your cheek softly while he feels the sweat collect at his temple. “Oh fuck, I’m— shit, baby. I’m close.”

You drag your lips across his length, retreating with a thorough hollow to your cheeks, and release him with a pop and your tongue stuck out connecting a string of your spit to his tip. Your hand immediately starts to rub him up and down as you look up, and the soft panting leaving your lips and fanning across his cock has him swallowing hard. “S-Sorry, needed a break.”

“That’s okay,” he says, swiping at some of the saliva pooled at the corner of your lip. “Take your time.”

You kiss his tip in acknowledgment, then take him in again, this time both hands working at the base as you bob up and down, more free with your moans and the sensation of them reverberating in the canal of your throat makes him grip your hair with both hands, desperate.

“Yes—fuck, yes,” he grunts, head tipping back and hitting the door. “Real close. Your mouth feels so good, you’re driving me insane.”

You suck on him, hard, taking him in to his favorite place that’s at the back of your throat, and when your hand reaches out to play with his balls, paired with the sensation of fast exhales through your nose onto the skin of his groin, his eyes close shut and strained and he’s jerking his hips forward to spill his cum down your throat. “Fuuuuck. Oh my god.” He exhales, watching you swallow over and over again as he pumps into your mouth, then he slowly pulls out when he feels that he’s done.

You sit back down on your heels, hands now neatly folded on your lap, looking up at him and his thumb prods at your bottom lip for you to open your mouth. You do as he wants, tongue hanging out in the process, and he sighs in satisfaction when he sees you’ve swallowed it all. “Beautiful, baby. Come here.”

With a hand wrapped around your arm, he gets you up on your feet and kisses you. You hold onto the fabric of his shirt for purchase, and he pulls away to rest his forehead against yours. “Doing okay?”

“Mhm,” you nod, tightening your grip on his shirt, “I liked it. Liked it when you said I was good.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead. “More than good, angel. You’re perfect.”

—

“C’mon, it’ll be fun. You look like you could use a break,” Gojo says to you in Victoria’s Secret on a random Saturday morning. He usually always works on Saturday, but he’s never seen you here on a Saturday before. Apparently you were picking up extra shifts since you were going on vacation next week, something about a wedding in Spain. But you’d worked six consecutive shifts in a row, and the exhaustion was starting to show.

“I don’t know…your store scares me,” you respond back to him. You were behind the register, and he was pretending to buy forty-two pairs of panties just to talk to you.

“It’s not scary. I just want to show you around,” he says, standing up straight from where he had been leaning over the counter.

You eventually give in, toying with your name badge as you make your way around the counter to him, eyeing the smile on his face before he leads you through the aisles and eventually across the mall to the Rolex watch store.

It wasn’t horribly busy for a weekend, but there were still a few clients around. Choso was helping out a regular, a man who has bought four $200k watches within the past two months, and Choso’s been biting his nails worried he’s going to have to play witness in a tax evasion court case should that client eventually get caught by the IRS for fraud one of these days.

Suguru comes around the corner the second he sees you walk through the polished glass doors, and Gojo’s already annoyed.

“Hey, it’s the new hire,” he greets you, stretching his hand out and you accept it in a shake. “I’m Suguru.”

“Not really new here anymore,” you say to him after introducing yourself, “been here for a couple months now.”

“Oh really? Time flies. Thanks for all the shows, by the way,” he jerks his head off to the Victoria’s Secret store, “I’ve enjoyed watching the 101 ways you can remove a bra on a mannequin. Might have to incorporate some of them into my personal life.”

Gojo scoffs. “Yeah right, like a woman would let you within a hundred feet of her bra.”

Suguru raises an eyebrow with a sleazy smirk on his face, before leaning closer to you. “Should we prove him wrong about that, darling?”

Gojo hates the way he sees you blink your lashes at him and blush, so he’s grabbing your hand and walking you across the store, away from Suguru. He circles you around to the back near one of the display counters. Ladies’ new Datejust models, pretty classy and feminine. He walks to behind the counter, with you staying on the other side, like you were a genuine sale.

“See anything you like?” he asks, resting his elbow on the glass and peering down through it.

You blink at him. “Uh…of Rolex watches?”

“Yeah.”

“Mm…” you press your index finger to your chin and glance at a few. “I like that one.” You point with that same finger and he follows the line with his eyes.

“Hm,” he says, using his key to unlock the case, then slides the opening to the side to gently pull the watch out. “Oystersteel and yellow gold, 18 karat. Wanna try it on?”

“Sure.”

He releases the safety clasp, pulling apart the band, and slides it through your hand down to your wrist, then fastens the clasp until he hears a click. You immediately raise your wrist up into the air, twisting it to assess, and there’s a sparkle in your eyes.

“How much is it?” you ask.

“Thirty.”

“Thirty-what?”

“Thirty-thousand.”

Your jaw drops. “Oh my god. Get this thing off of me.”

He laughs and his hands find the clasp at your wrist, unfastening it and you’re trembling a bit as you shake it off before he catches it in his palm. “Not my fault you literally chose one of the most expensive watches we have in this section.”

“This is insane. How do people afford any of these?” you ask, feet wandering and now you’re clearly curious as you inspect the cases.

“We have more affordable watches available for lingerie store workers,” he tells you, clicking his tongue to get your attention and you turn around then follow him to the other end of the counter. He points at the glass. “These are all under three-thousand.”

“Oh…” you peer at them with interest, and he watches you. His eyes fall to your wrist.

“Here,” he says, sliding the display case door open, and pulls out another watch, “I think you’d look nice in this.”

He shows it to you for a second before releasing the clasp and holding onto your hand to slide the watch through it. After fastening it, he looks up at your expression, and his heart’s beating a bit faster. You turn your wrist in the air to marvel at the watch, and he thinks your eyes look stunning from the way the shimmer of the watch reflects off of them.

“Wow,” you say.

“I knew you’d look good in anything rose gold,” he says, both elbows on the counter as he watches you, “this one’s only a couple thousand.”

You’re still a little speechless as you look at it, right index finger tracing the dial. He wants to buy it for you. He could, it’s not much of an issue, he’d just have to kiss goodbye to that used gaming PC he’s been eyeing on craigslist for the past couple of months, but something in his gut tells him it’d be worth it. Something in the soft look in your eyes right now tells him it’d be worth it.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, his voice quiet.

“That it’s beautiful,” you say to him, swallowing and then extending your wrist out to him. “Sorry, wearing it for too long. Probably lost a few hundred bucks in value just from the two minutes it was on my wrist.”

He shakes his head. “I’ll buy it for you.”

Your mouth gapes. “W-What?”

“I mean—if you actually like it. Then, I don’t mind,” he says, suddenly a bit flustered.

“Satoru. That’s insane. This is a two-thousand dollar watch.”

He shrugs. “I know, but it looks good on you. I can’t shoplift this one for you, though. But I’ll buy it if you actually want it. And if you lie and say you don’t like it, just to be nice, I’ll read right through it. So be honest.”

“I…” you start, “I really can’t accept that.”

His eyes are level with yours, and something about your persistence in your refusal just makes him want to buy it for you even more. But he’s not gonna push it anymore. He’ll just try to work towards a day where you’ll accept it from him. Where it won’t even be a question to want to decorate you in something as pretty as you are.

“Alright. Then give it back, it’s probably only worth a couple hundred now.”

a/n. hope you enjoyed!! this was fun to write. it was supposed to be longer but i cut it short so maybe part two lol?? i also wanna write versions for choso & suguru in this au lol maybe like a multi in one verse kinda thing haha i like the idea of a hot watch salesman trio. thank you for reading 💕

taglist: @ohsehuniiee @lost-resonance @whereflowerswenttodie @horisdope @therealestpussyeater @satorminniett @tobaccosunbxrst @alekssashka7 @ritsatoru @angrychinchillanoises @shleepyking @crimsonmarabou @mxlktae @bloopsstuff @slut-4-gojo @lil-cinn @wateronlyhaha @strawberiicreme @wintertoru @mo0nforme @whispersofbeskar @who-can-touch-my-boob @quinnyundertow @ramluvr @anthastudios @sabokunsmalia @ninjaturtletoes @rylierev @dvarlinggg @heyitsmirae @sleepyyammy @lofasofabread @lolthatsnice @tetsuski @bakuhoethotski @sureconfused

[queers-gambit]

Shower Shenanigans

part one: Perpetual L's and Overwhelming Dubs

prompt: midnight callers turn your quiet night upside down, but at least it ends with you riding your stranger in the shower.

pairing: Tangerine x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 4.7k+

note: nobody asked for this but he's my muse now

warnings: cursing, smut (unprotected, in the shower, she's on top), blood, wounds, brain rot, author isn't British, probably setting up for part three, wonky brain doesn't care what warnings are missed.

A storm had rolled over Osaka, a steady thrumming at your hotel window creating a calming ambiance as you lit a couple of the candles you ordered from the front desk. Curled up on the tiny loveseat offered in the small living space, you flipped through your latest novel you grabbed before running into Tangerine at the train station. Speaking of, you glared at your phone for the hundredth time in an hour, feeling a sort of overwhelming dread that he hadn't called yet - or at the very least, texted.

Was it silly? Oh, you KNOW it was.

But he had said some really pretty things that rang in your ears on a haunting repeat the rest of the train ride. Then the whole taxi ride through Osaka, and the three days it's been since meeting him - he just wouldn't leave your conscious. Every meeting you had was vaguely interrupted by some sort of thought about your mysterious stranger, driving you up the wall.

Sure, you could call him, but the idea of calling a stranger for no reason other than to hear his voice felt a little too vulnerable to you. Yo could ask where he was, if he wanted to come for a visit - or hell, even before you departed Japan back for London, England, you could come see him... If he so wanted.

But your mind refused to let you dial his number, which was left in your recents after he had texted himself in the bathroom. The memory of your ex was still so fresh, making you feel silly for having such vivid, intense fantasies about a man you've met once. And for the love of Christ, you didn't even know his real name! Just his silly, fruity codename!

Man, if you hadn't been embarrassed before, the memory of moaning a fucking fruit surely made you cringe to the point you wanted the Earth to open up, swallow you whole, and never spit you out.

Your trip was soon to end with your departing flight tomorrow night, giving you just a day of leisure time in the city - but you didn't feel like doing much since the storm. Your book was interesting enough, keeping you entertained with a cart of hot food from room service within arms reach. Your tea was lukewarm by now, being much easier to drink, bowl of air-popped popcorn sat in your lap. Over the sounds of thunder, there was a knock at your door.

More like a banging, but hey, logistics. This was odd considering it was close to nine in the evening and you hadn't called for anything.

With a sigh, you marked your page and stood; annoyed by the continuous knocking, oversized tee shirt falling back over your thighs, socked feet stuffing into your slippers before traveling to the door. You called in Japanese, "Who is it?"

There was a small scraping, making your brows furrow and call your question again - but with much more urgency. "'S me, love, open the door, please," a raspy, British accent croaked seemingly through the crack. You left the chain lock in place, slowly opening the door a fraction to discover Tangerine - bloodied to high hell - leaning on the doorframe of your hotel room with two other bloody men behind him.

"What the fuck? Jesus Christ," you hissed, shutting the door, snapping the chain off and yanking it open once more. "Get in here, are you okay?" You asked, gasping right after when Tangerine stumbled a little, making you catch him; assualting your sinuses with the smell of citrus, metallic blood, and cigarette smoke. "All right, all right, you're safe now, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon," you muttered, helping him over your shoulders and into your decently spacious hotel room. "C'mon, you two! Step lively before you trigger hotel security!"

You shuffled your stranger into the room and deposited him on the sofa; hearing his grunt of exaggerated pain. You looked at the others, sighing as you moved things out of the way, inviting the other two men to sit around the furniture. You tried not to worry about the cleaning bill you would surely get for all their blood.

"Jesus Christ, did you get shot?" You asked, seeing the fleshy wound in his shoulder that was very poorly staunched.

"That arsehole did it," he panted, pointing at the blonde stranger.

"Hi," the arsehole waved, "it was an accident, for whatever it's worth. I, uh... I have bad luck, don't really like guns," he shrugged meekly.

"You lot look like hell," you sighed, shaking your head and standing to your feet to take a few steps away. You asked over your shoulder, "Guess I shouldn't bother asking what happened?"

"Train wreck," the man Tangerine had been with earlier answered.

You blinked in shock, the men all wincing as they were seemingly finally able to relax. Only now, you noted they were all in the same clothes as days ago, just tattered, torn, burnt and singed, soaking wet from the storm, stained with blood. You looked at Tangerine, demanding, "Is that why you told me to get off the train? You were gonna crash it!?"

"No, no, darlin', that wasn't the plan," Tangerine coughed, head tilted back. "Just... Happened."

"Call it his bad luck, huh?" You shook your head and moved for the hotel's phone, dialing the front desk and waiting. When they answered, the cheery front desk girl asked how she could help and you asked her what first aid supplies the hotel kept stocked. She answered and you asked if you'd be able to get enough for three kits - claiming you were practicing for a medical school final. She was more than happy to oblige, telling you her brother did much of the same, and she'd send the kits right up.

Thanking her, you hung up, and turned back for room. You found a pair of shorts and hopped into them for modesty, using your ice bucket to fill with water, grabbing whatever hand towels and washcloths you could. You set the bucket to the coffee table, dipping the cloths in for the two strangers, asking, "You guys wanna clean up a bit?"

"Please," the blonde wheezed.

You nodded, handing over the wet towels and moved the bucket a little closer for them to reach. You introduced yourself to them, offering a smile, turning for Tangerine and taking a seat beside him to start cleaning him up. "Lemon," your companion's counterpart introduced.

"Ladybug."

"More fucking codenames," you mumbled, shaking your head, trying to mop up Tangerine's forehead. "Jesus, fuck, sweetheart, what did you do? Bash your head through a glass wall?"

"Window, actually," he mumbled, reaching up to caress your wrist and cracking his eyes open. "Thank you, darlin'."

"Hush," you smiled, wiping the blood from his mouth. "You guys are gonna need showers and new clothes, huh?" You looked at the other two, who were scattered around the room to use whatever reflective surface they could find.

"That'd be nice," Ladybug nodded. "Anyone any cash?"

You sighed, "I've got you guys, 's all right."

As you reached for the bucket of warm water again to rinse the washcloth and wring it out, you missed the looks Lemon and Tangerine exchanged; both mildly impressed with your generosity and kindness. Certainly, someone who would never get tangled up in the lot of them on regular circumstances.

The knock at your door made the entire room still, you sparing them a skeptical look and reprimanding as you stood, "Relax, it's just the supplies."

Still, Lemon and Ladybug made sure they were out of sight as Tangerine just couldn't move once deposited on the sofa. You greeted the service worker, strategic in how wide you opened the door, and accepted the supplies; thanking the man, closing the door, and depositing the materials on your still-made bed.

However, a new thought occurred and you picked up the phone once more. When it connected to the front desk, you asked if your conjoining room was vacant - and to your shock, it was. You asked if they would add the room to yours because your friend suddenly decided to join you (not a total lie), and some 20 minutes later, you were giving Ladybug and Lemon their own room keys. You propped the conjoining door open, the two men using the first aid kits and the other room's shower as you got Tangerine to a point you didn't think he would bleed out.

"Okay, sweetheart," you caressed his jaw, "I'm gonna pop over to the shops across the street, okay? Grab you guys some necessities."

"You don't have to, we shouldn't burden you like this," he whispered.

"You guys can't walk around in these clothes," you chuckled.

"Have been."

"Yeah, on the side of the road, huh?"

"Back of a tangerine truck for a bit, too," he chuckled.

"Well, that's fitting. Look, just," you sighed, leaning in to peck his lips softly, "stay here, rest, eat, I'll be right back. Get a shower if you feel able, yeah?"

He nodded, just looking you over for a moment. "I'm sorry," he whispered, shaking his head, "I didn't know where else t'go. Whole plan went t'shit, we were out of options, love, just... Didn't know where t'turn ta."

"How'd you even find me?"

He shrugged, "I have my ways."

"Well, that's doesn't vaguely make you sound like a stalker." Another peck to his amused smile. "I'll be right back, promise," you stood, found a pair of sweats, a hoodie, and changed your shoes before heading out the door.

Was it stupid to leave three strangers alone in your hotel room? For sure. But you still went, you were a caring person by nature and the idea of making them fend for themselves felt wrong.

Especially after the state they showed up in, Tangerine's soft words about not knowing where to go; you just wanted to help since you had the ability to.

Across the street, splashing through puddles, you zipped around what was available and gathered three sets of sweatpants, shirts, jackets or hoodies, and figured their shoes were fine for now until they could change them later. You grabbed a few snacks and bottles of water, sports drinks, and energy drinks, paid, and made it back to your hotel room.

"Oh, blessings, you sweet girl!" Lemon gasped when you presented the change of clothes and snacks. "Oh, fuck yeah," he whispered to himself, taking the gift and going to change as you tossed Ladybug his own set.

When you found Tangerine, he was in the same place - but at least he didn't look worse. Just exhausted.

"Hey," you cooed, caressing his head and watching his eyes crack open.

"You're back," he smiled.

"Mhm," you hummed, "and you need a shower. C'mon, then you can get in bed, get some rest."

"Nah, love," he groaned when you took his wrists, "let's jus' go t'bed."

"Tan, you're absolutely disgusting right now, you'll feel better under the water. C'mon, there's a shower seat, you don't have to do anything, I'll help you."

He winced when you helped him on his feet, hobbling into the bathroom as Ladybug and Lemon were chowing down on whatever they could get their hands on. In the bathroom, you shut the door, set a clean towel on the counter, and turned to see him leaning on a wall, just watching you. You offered a soft smile, starting the shower to hea up, and then approaching him.

"Easy," you whispered, helping him unlatch his belt, step from his shoes, and then shed his trousers. His waistcoat followed, then his button-up, you gasping lightly, "Oh, fuck! Oh, my God. Yeah," you gently pet his side, prodding the dark wound, "you've got some broken ribs, sweetheart. Fuck's sake."

"That arsehole did that, too," he mused.

"Seriously? Damn, how'd you get your arse handed to yah by a lad named Ladybug?" You joked, dropping his boxers and pulling him from the wall. You made sure he was on the shower seat before stepping back and stripping yourself, joining him in the heat and getting to your knees.

With another washcloth, you gently suds over his body, the soap helping sweep away from grime. He let you work, scrubbing his feet, then working up his legs, rinsing, reapplying the soap, and continuing on your way. You washed his thighs and up his hips, to his waist, ignoring the way his cock stirred to life, bobbing into your elbow as it swelled. You were gentle over his bruises, the water feeling nice over your tired bodies; the soft scents of the soap soothing.

When you straightened up to wash his chest, you missed the way his eyes scanned over your soaking wet form. Feeling your hands on his collarbones, he reached down to seize your hips and heave - making you yelp. "The hell are you doing?" You gasped, needing to stabilize yourself on the wall and his non-shot shoulder.

"'S been three days too long, just wanted yah close," he whispered, sighing as his hands smoothed down your hips; gripping the flesh until indentations appeared.

You tisked, "You're hurt, you don't need t'fuckin' lift me. Use your words next time, won't you?"

He chuckled, "And what? Risk you sayin' no 'cause you don't wanna hurt me? Nah, love," he sighed. "Just wanted yah close, t'feel yah."

You hummed, "Close your eyes."

"Hmm?"

You held up the shampoo bottle, squirting a generous amount into your hand before starting to lather it into his scalp. He groaned, hissed at a few intervals, but overall let you work your fingers through his curls; pulling out any knots, shards of glass, and loosening the dried blood.

"You all right?" You checked, lifted on your knees to work; breasts all but pressed into his face.

"Mhm," he hummed, coiling his arms around you so he could literally just press his face into your cleavage. You chuckled, giving him a quick cuddle as he pecked your skin slowly, and continuing your work. When you lowered yourself back to his lap, your bare cunt drug down his shaft, making you both groan. "Baby," he seethed through his teeth, gripping the back of your neck to keep you close, "please, just - get on me, yeah? Need yah - on a biblical level, darlin'."

"You're hurt," you weakly refused, your resolve barely hanging on by a thread.

"Not so hurt that I can't enjoy this, huh?" He argued, licking over your lips to halt all rational thought. "C'mon, love, we hiked it three days here - after a fuckin' train wreck. I would've dropped if not for the thought of you, seein' yah, touchin' you again. Don't even gotta move, just sit there, love."

"If I do, will you finally just sit still and let me clean you up?"

"Whatever baby wants, she'll have, swear it," he grinned, hoisting you into his arms so he could grip his throbbing cock, lower you, and line himself up until you were impaling yourself on him. "Jesus, fuck!" He snapped, mixing with your whimper at his impossible stretch. "Ah, you feel so fuckin' good, doll, this is it - this is what I needed, huh? All I fuckin' needed - fuck - right fuckin' here."

"Hush," you whispered with an embarrassed smile, glancing back. "I need the shower head."

"I got us," he answered, holding you tight and standing with a small grunt. He easily grabbed the shower head, handing it to you, letting you rinse his hair out as he turned to pin you against the wall with his hips for balance.

"This isn't just sitting," you mocked, soap flowing down his shoulders and chest. "Close your eyes, please," you whispered, wiping the frothy suds from his face as he did. "God, your curls are magnificent, seriously, why does God give the best qualities to men - who don't even appreciate what they have?"

He laughed lightly, "Gotta get your attention somehow."

"Mhm, these lashes? Not even a drop of mascara," you mused, pecking the tip of his nose while one hand held his jaw. "And this jawline? Baby, this alone could cut glass."

"Like your nipples, right?" He teased, nipping your collarbones; both acutely aware of your pebbled nips dancing across his flesh each time you moved. He chuckled, readjusting you when you reached to set the shower head back in the holder; making sure it could cascade over the bench still. "We done?" He asked softly.

"Nope, got the conditioner," you rolled your eyes, holding his shoulders when he moved back for the seat; still firmly inside you. When he sat again, you released a high-pitched breath when the position pushed him further into you; your legs folding beside his thighs to keep the ideal grip.

"In a second," he smirked, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. "Just need this, yeah?" He spoke against your lips, licking into your mouth. "Been hiking with a fucking hard-on for days, love, just fuckin' need this," he hissed into your mouth, teeth raking over your bottom lip in a possessive bite. You moaned quietly, lost in the ministrations of kissing him like a drunk teenager, barely aware when he started moving your hips over him.

"Tan," you tried.

"C'mon, love, we both need it," he shook his head. "Tell me to stop and I will, but I think we both need this."

With a long sigh, you pet his cheek, deciding, "Fine, but we're taking it easy, you're still - " But then there was a loud knock at the bathroom door, Lemon calling your name in question. You slapped a hand over Tangerine's irritated mouth when he looked ready to yell his protest, answering, "What is it, honey, are you guys okay? What's wrong?"

"Yeah, just, uh... Can we order a couple things from room service? Bit starving, thinkin' something hot?"

"Oh, yeah, whatever you guys need!" You encouraged happily, Tangerine biting your palm and making your hand retract with a small whine and pout.

"Oi!" He called over the shower stream.

"Yeah?" Lemon was heard laughing.

"Don't run up her bill, mate!"

"It's okay," you whispered, pecking his forehead. "Get what you need, Lemon," you called, "but order Tangerine something to eat, too, please!"

"On it, love! Thank you!"

"Oh! Of course!" You beamed back at Tangerine, who offered you a mild look of annoyance.

"Now, why do that?" He asked, grinding your hips on his again. "Huh? Those two will eat you outta house and home, love."

"It's fine, you guys have been through a lot," you promised, connecting your lips in a long kiss. "Now, you wanna keep talking financials or put the rest of this hot water to use?"

"There's my girl," he grunted, standing from the bench to move fully under the water; pinning you to the wall again.

You grunted when you collided with the cold tile, but the warm tongue in your mouth was plenty distraction. You held his neck like it was your single tether to life, teeth clashing, tongues wagging, lips wet and creating obscene sounds the more intense the kisses turned.

"Fuck," you felt the air punch from your lungs when Tangerine pulled his hips back to start thrusting; brows furrowed together in concentration as he worked in and out of you at an already brutal pace. You didn't complain - he obviously needed this, and by God, it felt otherworldly.

"'Ats my girl, so fuckin' good for me," he muttered, needing this more than you have ever before; each hand holding a thigh to keep you spread open for his taking, hips hammering into yours as his balls slapped the apex of your cunt to echo around the room.

You felt incoherent when he picked up his speed, dropping his forehead to your shoulder when your head was thrown back as he worked you closer, closer, closer to your release. There was no thought in your mind, just Tangerine; drunk on his smell, taste, touch, never wanting this feeling to end.

Just outside the bathroom, Ladybug was accepting the room service order when he heard the messy, obscene noises coming from the bathroom; looking wide eyed at the closed door. Lemon laughed, "Might wanna walk away, Joburg, he don't like nobody listening in."

"Kinda hard to when they're that loud," he blanched when you released a pornographic moan as Tangerine readjusted his stance so his cock was piercing what felt like straight through you. Lemon laughed at Ladybug being startled so much he literally scurried away.

"C'mon, love," Tangerine panted.

"Go back," you moaned, pawing at his shoulders as you felt too slippery in this position.

"Huh?"

"Sit!" You insisted, him pulling back from the wall and backing up until the bench hit the back of his knees - dropping him. "There's my boy," you mocked, a hand on the wall, the other on his good shoulder, supporting you to vigorously ride him. You felt renewed energy now that he was obviously okay, only his bullet wound still weeping - something you'll patch up once out of the water.

"Oh, holy fuck," Tangerine moaned, louder than you would've thought; his head thumping back to the wall and losing all composure. "That's it, doll, keep like that - ohhh, fuck me!"

"Exactly what I'm doing, yeah?" You teased, moving your hand to his throat and keeping pressure enough not to fully choke his air supply, but enough to make him moan at the feeling.

His mouth dropped open as you rode him enthusiastically, feeling determined to reward him for coming all this way to track you down. Yeah, sure, for a moment, it was concerning, but now, you simply didn't care that three strangers had found your hotel room and now crashed with you.

Nothing mattered when this deliriously delicious cock was inside you.

"Jesus!" Tangerine moaned, hands to your hips to help you move, but it seemed the years in your youth as an equestrian was truly paying off. Call it muscle memory, but years after mastering the posting trot and the correct canter diagonal, you were riding Tangerine as if you'd drop dead if you didn't. And he felt it, he felt all of it. "Yeah, you're too good at this," he groaned, "so fuckin' good - Goddamnit - fuck me. Just like that, love, keep going - fuck, I'm right there."

You smirked, pushing his neck back so we was pinned to the wall now, his eyes locked with yours, mouth agape, your breasts bouncing with vigor. You squeaked when Tangerine braced his feet, his own hips thrusting up into you to match your movements; adding to both your mounting pleasures as the shower created a cloud of steam around you both in a welcomed lung-choking heat.

You honestly didn't mean to, but the absolute gut-wrecking pleasure you felt was enough for you to moan in Tangerine's ear, "Daddy."

It seemed the right word as Tangerine groaned in an echo, thrusting faster to the point you couldn't keep up. You could only moan, groan, squeak, cry-out as he jackhammered up into you - something that made Lemon and Ladybug exchange looks, gather their things, and rush back over to their adjoining room to leave you both a fraction of privacy.

"Yeah, tell Daddy how good it is," he seethed in your ear, opening his mouth, and biting down on your neck; hand tightly wound in your hair.

"So good."

"How good?"

"Too good, Daddy, please," you sobbed, braced on his shoulders and chest as his arms held you tight to let him thrust with abandon. "Oh, my God, oh, my God, oh, my God, yes, yes, yes," you praised, your orgasm rushing higher and higher to a new height. "Fuck," you moaned in his ear, "need this cock everyday. Went three days without, felt like I was losing my fucking mind."

"Feelin's mutual, love, so fuckin' mutual," he agreed, his cock swelling, "just needed t'get here, find yah again. Shit, fuck," he looked to where you were conjoined, praising, "gonna need yah home address - ain't no way we're goin' without one another, huh? Hey?"

"Yes, yes, yes," you squeaked, "there - there - there!"

His thumb pressed to your clit and you were done for. Grinding and humping into his hips, you crashed over the other side of your orgasm; feeling mildly limp as you slumped against his shoulder, letting Tangerine thrust a few more times.

"YES!" He shouted your name through clenched teeth, holding you with a vice grip as he bottomed out, balls contracting, squirting his full load inside you with shuddering breaths.

"Oh, my God," you sniffled, holding onto him as your legs were spent and you knew, the odds of you moving any time soon were slim to none.

"Yeah," Tangerine chuckled, leaning back to the wall as he panted; keeping hold of you. "Yah all right, love?"

"Uh-huh," you breathed, still absentminded.

"Yeah," he mused, pecking below your ear. "Just what the doctor ordered, huh?"

"Think the doctor would want your wound closed," you slowly sat off him, looking to the bloody hole and frowning as you pet around the irritated skin. He winced gently, making you frown, "Let's go, love, you need this tended to."

Only, when you dismounted, his cock flopping out of you once released, you tried to find your feet but only found the floor.

"C'mon, love, you just sit," he sighed, scooping you up and switching spots. He set you on the bench, stood, rinsed off under the water, readjusted the stream so it hit you a little better as he lathered conditioner into his curls with one arm.

"You're supposed to leave it sit for a bit," you tisked when he washed the conditioner out; shaking his curls.

"'S all right, still does the job."

"Your girlfriends never taught you haircare?"

He cleared his throat, looking a bit sheepish as he avoided your eyes. "Never really had one outside of secondary school. Job doesn't make dating the easiest, yeah?"

You furrowed your brows gently, then nodded, "Okay, well, just means you've room to learn, right?"

"Yeah, sure. You gonna teach me, love?" He mused, slicking his hair back in the water before shutting it off; wringing a few strands out.

"Why not?" You smiled. "But you gotta teach me something in return."

"Hmm? What's that you wanna learn?"

"How to shoot a gun."

He offered you a long look, seemingly skeptical. You accepted his hand and got from the bench, squeezing when the weight of your body made them tremble lightly. Stepping out, you both dried off with towels as he offered, "Why d'you think I know how to shoot a gun?"

"Tellin' me that Ladybug fellow is the only one? That's fine, I can ask him," you quipped, making him instantly respond,

"Nah, nah, nah, nah, don't do all that, I'll teach yah, love."

You smiled softly, wrapping your hair in a towel and approaching him - still naked. "Thank you," you whispered, kissing his lips in a soft, sweeping motion that made him hum in the back of his throat and reach for your bare arsecheek. "Now, c'mon, let's get you stitched up before you go startin' something you can't finish."

"You met me, love? I always finish," he gave a cheeky squeeze.

"Mhm, might be the last time, too, with this blood loss. Huh?"

He relented in a head nod and wrapped the towel around his hips, watching you shrug on a fluffy white robe and tie the sash. He took your hand, laced your fingers together, and exited the bathroom - only to come to a shocking halt.

There was blood trailed all over the room, medical supplies strewn around, and several food wrappers. "Told yah, love," Tangerine sighed.

"It's okay," you smiled, "they'll clean it."

"You're so sure?"

"I'm very persuasive," you eased. "C'mon, sit," you ushered him back to the bloodied sofa, figuring damage was already done and anymore blood wouldn't make much of a difference. You grabbed whatever material you could, snapping on rubber gloves and taking a deep breath. "Ready?" You asked Tangerine.

"One more kiss and you can have at it," he sighed, leaning in until you met him happily; offering several swipes of his tongue before resting his forehead on your own.

"It'll sting for a bit," you warned, holding the bottle of alcohol.

"C'mon, darlin', 's all right, I can handle - OH! FUCKS SAKE!" He cursed when you poured the disinfectant over his bullet wound.

In the next room, Ladybug and Lemon shared a look before snickering as if two juvenile boys at a sleepover. And honestly? Spot the difference.

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist

[russellsppttemplates]

I'm right here! (Oscar Piastri)

People seem to forget you're dating Oscar

Note: english is not my first language. Another Oscar piece 🫶

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Cw: jealous themes

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

"Do you think this will translate as well on the track though?", Phil, the head of the engineering department, asked as you showed him the latest set of data.

"Even with the interval we've set for changes, these numbers show it could improve performance, especially in race pace", you pointed to the calculations on the side.

"We would only have it for Miami, though", he reasoned, "we don't have enough time to get this done for Shanghai and I don't think it would be wise to test this in a track we haven't raced in five years", Amelia argued as you nodded in agreement, "but it looks promising - good job, Y/N", she patted your back.

"Would you feel comfortable talking about it in the meeting with Zak, Andrea and the mechanics? You have been the one working the most with this, makes sense for you to be the one taking point. Lando and Oscar should join you as well - I think they're doing something on the Sim", William mused.

"Absolutely! Yes, Oscar said he was driving a new set up and strategy Tom also wants to discuss in the meeting", you offered with a smile.

"Having insider information makes this easier - I don't have to check every single e-mail and wonder about things, especially Oscar's schedule", Amelia chuckled, rubbing your shoulder before she got up.

As everyone gathered in the meeting room, you set your laptop up so the latest data would be seen by everyone as you spoke about the changes, "we don't think nor expect this will be ready for China, but we're hoping to have the new package in Miami already - gives us enough time to work on it and the track there is ideal for us to have an idea of how this could play out for the rest of the season", you concluded.

"I agree - I think China will be damage control racing and we're accepting it as it goes", Andrea stated.

"We just need to get going with these then and also get the guys to try it out on the- Oh! Speaking of the devil", Zak chuckled as Oscar and Lando stepped inside the meeting room.

"So that's that, I think - thank you for all your work and let's hope we can bring some points next weekend", the British driver said before everyone scattered out.

Closing your laptop and getting your tablet, you held them against your torso so you could go and set them back to your station before lunch. You didn't make it very far as Oscar stood just outside the room, his hand snaking up your back carefully as he didn't want to startle you.

"Good morning, love", he smiled, kissing your cheek and walking with you.

"Morning, Osc", you kissed his cheek back, "how was training?", you wondered.

"Same old - went for a run this time, though, it was nice enough outside", your boyfriend offered as you reached your desk, tidying it a little bit before leaving to get some lunch, walking hand in hand.

You didn't expect to fall for a driver, especially after the relationship you had with Lando. You behaved like siblings, often pranking eachother, and it had helped you grow more confident around him and the senior staff when you felt you were all but a small intern. Over the years, you grew more comfortable as your ideas and pitches would get considered and tested, finally feeling like your place was well earned and that at the right time, the development would come to bring McLaren to the top where it belonged.

When Oscar joined the team, however, you didn't expect to feel the way you felt about the Australian driver. He was handsome, very shy and very kind and thoughtful as he sat all through the meetings as you explained the changes. Jeopardising your career was something you didn't want to do, but after some not so careful touches and glances, the team assured you it wouldn't be an issue in case you and Oscar were to pursue a relationship together.

"Here's my favourite team-mate! And she brought Oscar with her!", Lando joked as you sat at the same table as him.

Swatting his neck playfully, you sat down next to him so you could face Oscar as he put his tray down, "I will revoke new updates package from you and you'll be stuck in the midfield", you taunted before you started eating.

"Do you want to spend the night at my place? I need to sort a few things out still this afternoon, but I'm hoping I can leave on time today", you squinted your eyes.

"What do you mean on time?", Lando quirked an eyebrow.

"Yesterday, she got so caught up in the calculations, I barely got a text out of her when I asked her if she wanted to have dinner with me", Oscar chuckled as you held hands on top of the table, playing with his fingers, "what was it you texted me? 'I'm having a breakthrough' I think it was", your boyfriend offered.

"I did, though! Amelia checked it over and we might be onto something - I have to go to Race Base this afternoon so they can check them out", you shrugged your shoulders."We're spending the whole afternoon in the sim", Oscar checked with you, "when you get off, then we can leave together - how does that sound?".

Coming back to your place after you stopped by the supermarket, you set the bag on the counter and pulled out all of the ingredients you bought to make sure the dinner would be suitable and appropriate to Oscar's plan.

"I haven't had a proper cuddle today", Oscar pulled you to him, beggining to litter kisses on your forehead all the way to your cheeks and jaw, "I can't ever do this at the center", he mumbled against your neck, tickling you.

"We could, just where there are no other team members", you giggled before cupping his cheeks, "which happens to be nowhere most of the time", before you kissed his lips.

"I'm going to start working on the chicken", Oscar said after you stole a few kisses, "are you going to be in the Center for the race?".

"No, I'm travelling with the team", you smiled as you took the fresh pasta out of the bag, "which means we can spend more time together - and people will actually see us together", you mumbled the last part.

"People know we're together, love", he smiled, cutting up the last bit of garlic and tossing it in the pan.

"Sometimes it doesn't seem like it - they didn't see me in Jeddah and the rumours flew out of control", you wiped your hands on the kitchen towell before hugging Oscar's back, resting your cheek between his shoulder blades.

"You know how the media works - they see the smallest hint to something they want to see and then they're there", he offered, taking one of his hands to squeeze your hip, "you're the one here, aren't you?", he tsked.

.

"Where are you going?", Oscar asked as he saw you grab a tablet and push the chair back under the table, "I thought we could have some time together now".

"The stewards picked out eight cars at random to get checked over a few components - Mike and Barry are waiting for me", you offered, pecking his lips quickly, "hopefully they're just not messing around with our schedule because everything is supposed to be how it is!", you smiled before you started to walk out.

"I'll go with you, then", your boyfriend assured, "can't have you go to the wolves on your own when you can have company, beautiful".

Oscar walked up to the building with you, kissing your temple before you stepped inside, "I left some data from the sprint for you to look at, and tell Lando I also left a file for him with his tire deg - I told Will to do it, but he might forget!", you alerted before letting him go.

Knowing how long it would take, he went back to the McLaren garage, stopping whenever fans snapped a couple of pictures or autographs.

By the time you were back in the hotel room after the sprint and qualifying, Oscar went to the bathroom so he could have a shower, leaving you to lay on the bed and scroll through social media.

You looked at the photos the media team had posted, along with the stories where you could spot yourself in the background and spotted a few comments as you flicked through the carrousel of pictures, the comments under it weren't something you hadn't seen before.

Hear me out, Oscar and Elaine are the perfect match

I know, right? 😭 honestly, they need to get together! They would be so cute together

She's so polite and put together, but I get rhe vibe that she's really shy too, they would be perfect for eachother

Are we forgetting Y/N? aka Oscar's girlfriend

I still can't believe the people at the top have let their engineer date a driver

Y/N's way too out there, I call PR relationship

She couldn't even build a great car, I'm not sure why you would defend her

She was literally the reason the car and the turnaround last year and we started getting podiums?

These have been the best 12 months in terms of development, what are you on about? Just because she's with Oscar, you can't dig at her like that

The last few comments don't come up too often, but you had to admit it was nice when they did even if they did nothing to the way you felt.

The green eyed monster took over more times that you'd like. You work with numbers, probabilities and direct correlations, so it was hard to miss the reason behind how you were feeling.

"Why are you looking at your phone like that? You promised you wouldn't work once we got back to the room", Oscar warned, using the towell to dry his hair before he looked at you again.

"I'm not working", you mumbled, locking the phone and setting it on your stomach, pondering whether or not you should talk to Oscar about this.

"That long silence tells me that there is something bothering you", Oscar began, "I'm not saying you have to talk about it right now - I won't force you to -, but I'm here for you when you want to do it", he offered earnestly.

"I'm jealous of you and Elaine", you stated, earning a quirked eyebrow from your boyfriend.

"Me and Elaine? The communications' intern?", he looked for some clarification.

"Yes!", you answered loudly.

"We don't - I don't even spend that much time with her, what do you mean?", Oscar asked.

"I know you don't, but people online seem to think you should! First, it was that actress that McLaren invited for Abu Dhabi - the weekend where Natalie and Naomi kept approaching us because they wanted to chat and there was actual visual proof we were together after all the rumours -, now they're saying how you should go out with Elaine!", you admitted, "they're all saying you really should have someone and that she should be the one to go, that she has all the qualities you should look for and I-", you took a big breath in, "I'm literally over there, every single day of the races - in the garage, sometimes in the pitwall!", you stated, "I barely do any races from the Center anymore, so it's not like people forgot that I exist!".

"Love, I'd never do that to you - you're the only person I care about like that", Oscar replied instantly.

"I know you don't, but it hurts to see", you admitted, "comments people make about my boyfriend and how he really should start dating someone when our relationship is public - I'm there, I see them, they see me!", you let a tear fall down your cheek, "there's only so much I can do to make it obvious, Osc!".

Oscar sat down next to you on the bed, throwing the towell on the floor for the moment so he could pull you to face him.

"Y/N, I didn't know it was bothering you so much, I don't even notice all of that", your boyfriend craddled your face in his hands, thumbs wiping the tears that continued to fall and looking into your eyes.

"I never told you and I know you don't read all of the comments", you reasoned, "I just thought it would stop at some point! Everyone keeps saying that you should have someone and I want them to think I'm that someone - because I am!", you said bitterly.

"Is there something you'd like me to do? That would make you feel better about it?", Oscar combed your bangs away and behind your ears.

"What can we do anyway? Have you walk around with a t-shirt that says "I have a girlfriend - Y/N, the engineer"?", you scoffed.

"I will do that if you think it will help - throw in a headband with "Y/N's boyfriend" too if it helps!", he tried to pry a smile out of you.

"Don't be silly", you playfully shoved his chest before holding his hands in yours, "I honestly have no idea what to do, but I know I want it to stop without putting our jobs on the line", you pouted.

"Maybe an Instagram post from us then? Something chilled but serious enough so anyone can get the hint - and I wouldn't mind arriving into the paddock with you in the morning", your boyfriend suggested.

"Oscar, I have to be there way earlier than you need to", you argued.

"Then I'll be there earlier, I'll have breakfast there with you and we'll spend more time together in front of everyone - as much as you feel comfortable with", Oscar offered you an assuring smile, "I don't want anyone else the way I want you, I don't love anyone the way I love you, Y/N".

Smiling at the honesty and safety he was transmitting you, you kissed his lips, starting with small pecks before one last long kiss, letting your foreheads touch as you pulled away, "thank you, Osc, I love you".

The next morning, reporters were surprised when they saw the McLaren driver show up in the paddock so early, his hand laced in yours as they asked a couple of questions.

"My girlfriend had to come in earlier, so I thought I'd join her and see a little bit of the preparations", Oscar replied before you continued to walk to the McLaren hospitality.

"Is it bring your boyfriend to work day?", Anna asked after her usual morning greeting.

"He's always with me at work though", you squinted before giggling, "but I really need people to know he's mine and that I'm here!", you half joked.

[amongemeraldclouds]

But Daddy I Love Him

Mattheo and the Slytherin boys rescue you from your father who held you captive one day before your wedding.

Mattheo Riddle x f!Reader ft. The Slytherin Boys

Warning: fluff, one use of y/n, cursing, the boys being chaotic. Inspired by the Taylor Swift song with the same title.

✿ Masterlist | 872 words

“Can’t this bloody car go any faster?” Mattheo asked gripping the leather seat, straining against his seatbelt as if he could steer the car faster out of sheer will.

Draco scoffed, “it’s the latest model of flying cars, of course it can. The car is not the problem.” He was insulted that Mattheo would even question the calibre of cars they kept at the Malfoy Manor. They borrowed it from his father without asking, but he didn’t think he would mind.

“We already went over this,” Theo grit his teeth, trying to hold on to the last dregs of his patience. He drove the car over the roofs of buildings and clouds blurred past them. He was going as fast as he could without compromising their safety. “If we let you behind the wheel, you will drive us all straight to a tree. You can’t have a wedding if your corpse is busy rotting in a tree, huh?”

“I’m not some foolish Gryffindor who would do that!” Mattheo argued.

Blaise sucked in his breath, tired of having to play peacekeeper. “Arguing would not get us to her any faster, okay Matty? When has Theo ever let you down?”

Lorenzo chimed in, also eager to diffuse the tension. “What’s next, mate? You just roused us all out of bed to rescue your girl the night before your wedding, what happens when we get there?”

Mattheo narrowed his eyes, “I only roused Theo then Draco offered his father’s car when he overheard us. The rest of you tossers invited yourselves.”

“That’s besides the point,” Enzo continued knowing Mattheo would do the same for any of them if they ever needed help. “What’s your genius plan?” 

“When we’re close enough to the estate, I’ll signal y/n. She says she has a plan to escape and we’ll swoop in as the getaway driver.”

“Sounds simple enough when you say it like that,” Enzo mused.

“But daddy I love him!” You declared, losing track of how many times you’ve had to defend your fiancé to your father.

“He’s the Dark Lord’s son-” he begins, his favorite line whenever he tried another argument to dissuade you from you marriage plans.

“Father, I’m having his baby!” You spat out, tired of his same old lines. That shut his mouth.

Your news drained the color from his face as he opened his mouth again to say something and closed it. This was going to bring shame to the family name. He was too stunned to speak.

You tried to hold it in, but burst out laughing. Your father was a man hardened by business and the ways of the world. He was not easily shaken so this reaction was priceless.

“Oh father!” You held your stomach to control your laughter. “You should see your face! I was just joking! See, there are worse things that could happen? Father, I promise this is not as bad as you think. He is nothing like the Dark Lord. He’s doing his best to be better than him.”

Your father mumbled incoherently as if holding back a string of curses. “Dear child, you will send me to my funeral! These white hairs will turn even whiter than snow.”

“Please,” you approached him, holding his hand. Trying to appeal to his affections, the way you did when you asked for a pony when you were younger. “He’s the one I want, if you could just give him a chance and get to know him.” “What about our family name? It will put us to ruin, think about us,” he responds coldly.

“I’m taking his last name, father. You won’t have to worry about that. My name is mine to do with as I please.” You were losing hope, nothing was getting through to him. You just needed to wait for the signal.

As if you summoned it by your thoughts, you saw a light flash three times and you grabbed your wand from a hidden compartment in your dress. That’s on your father for underestimating you, he couldn’t just lock you in - you were no longer his little girl. You saw the car approach the window and withdrew the wand.

“Well father, I wish you would come around. Come to the wedding tomorrow in peace, the cake is fantastic,” you bid him goodbye with those words and you cast an explosion with your wand, bricks flying and dust spraying through the air. You took one last look at your father as he stood to catch you, but you moved faster.

From the clearing that once formed the east wing of your father’s mansion, you grinned at Mattheo and your friends. 

“That’s your escape plan?” Blaise broke through the silence when the car was near enough.

At the same time, Mattheo cheered, “that’s my girl!”

You shrugged, running towards them and taking Mattheo’s hand. You sat on his lap in the front seat of the car as there was no other vacant seat. But you could hardly complain at the chance to snuggle with him.

“It worked, didn’t it?” You simply said as Theo drove you away from the mansion.

Theo just chuckled and shook his head, “you two are really meant for each other.”

✿ Masterlist

A/N: I was listening to TTPD when this whole scene came to mind. It’s the fastest I've written and uploaded a fic so far.

[delirious-donna]

My Lover’s The Sunlight [Higuruma Hiromi]

an: a wonderful thought that I simply couldn’t pass over when it was suggested to me, especially as a glasses wearer myself… Hiromi likes it when you keep your glasses on.

pairing: Higuruma Hiromi x female reader

warnings: reader is a glasses wearer, bit of domestic bliss, alcohol mentions, making out turns into much more, NSFW

The evening had been a pleasant one. Not often did you take the time to cook together these days, more often than not it was hastily thrown together hodgepodge meals or heated up prepackaged food for convenience alone.

It was understandable when you were both so very busy, and it wouldn’t go on forever, that much you knew for a fact. So, to have shared a delicious home cooked meal and a lot of laughter at Hiromi’s supremely lacking culinary finesse, it was a balm for your heart and soul.

With bellies full and good humour in abundance, settling into a nightly routine was as easy as pie. Your latest book rested on your chest, legs up on the couch with your feet in Hiromi’s lap. He massaged the tired arches, rolling his knuckles along the soles and pinching playfully at your wiggling little tootsies. The movie he had stuck on played quietly as background noise to the idle chatter you indulged in, everything was perfectly at peace.

“We should have evenings like this more often,” you mused out loud whilst reaching for your wine glass and taking a long, well deserving sip.

Hiromi agreed with a noise in his throat. His gaze moved from the screen to your face, dipping from your eyes to your mouth, watching as you licked away a stray droplet of cabernet. The hand at your foot moved to your ankle, thumb grazing over your ankle bone before grasping to tug you deeper into the cushions.

You offered a saccharine smile, dripping in honeyed possibilities. “Need something mister lawyer man?”

~

It had started innocently enough from that point. Discarding your book in favour of indulging in the spicy heat of your husband’s mouth. His tongue licked across your teeth to curl with yours. Your fingers ran through his thick head of hair, twisting the black strands near the roots just how he liked.

Soon you were sat on his lap, straddling him with your chest flush to his and your hips undulating to rut your pelvis against the bulge that was awakening impressively fast. Hiromi’s hands explored beneath your sweater. Broad palms glided along the length of your sides and his fingertips teased at the lace of your bra, dipping past the cups and tweaking at your nipples to hear your breathy little squeaks.

Hiromi’s kisses moved to your jaw, your neck and your décolleté. His hooked nose nudging insistently at the modest neckline whilst he grabbed at you more firmly, making you gasp.

“Off,” he ordered to your surprise. The bark of the word was so unlike him that you merely blinked for a moment, meeting simmering eyes that told rich tales of how he was going to devour you this evening. “The sweater, please… it’s in the way.”

“You’re lucky you added a please or else I might have said no…” you teased, knowing full well that was not the case. The arousal between your thighs had increased from his tone alone, causing you to clench in anticipation. There would be no refusals, but it was always fun to toy with him a little. A sleek eyebrow rose by reply, Hiromi questioned your certainty and gazed down to where you were mercilessly grinding into him.

Huffing at being caught in the obvious lie, you reached up to remove the glasses from your face only to be stopped. Hiromi’s hand encased your wrist, stroking over the pulse. “Keep these on. I like it when you wear them when we—y’know, when we… fuck.”

Oh.

A jumble of hastily discarded clothes surrounded you. Underwear sticky with arousal obscured the corner of the television, Hiromi’s tie decorated the side table lamp and a stray sock had managed to land in the plant pot by the window. None of it mattered, not when the man beneath you had a mouthful of your breast and was lining himself up for you to sink onto his cock.

You glanced at him over the rim of your glasses, eyes low-lidded and sultry. You were aware your glasses were perched further down your nose than usual, knocked slightly askew from the fervour of shared kisses. Hiromi bucked upwards without thought, his cock slick with precum lost its place at your entrance, slipping to your clitoral hood and adding such sudden pressure and friction against your pert clit that your nails clawed into his shoulders. The chain reaction continued; hot moans muffled around your breast, streaks of red decorated his shoulder down to his chest and you twitched in Hiromi’s hold, desperate to be stretched and filled.

“Hiro—dear god… you’re going to be the death of me! Come… here.”

Reaching between you, the velvet skin of Hiromi’s foreskin rolled back with little effort. Pumping him once then twice, gasping when his teeth sunk a little deeper around your areola, you rose higher and welcome him inside—welcomed him home with a low guttural moan of satisfaction.

You rode him slowly, careful to roll your hips and draw them back enough that only the tip of him remained lodged between your walls. Hiromi hissed through clenched teeth, finally withdrawing from your tender breasts to let his head fall backwards, sweat edging his hairline and the tendons in his neck stark in their strain. His hands pawed at your backside, spreading you further open whilst he watched you through near shut eyelids. Leaning in, your lips claimed his. His hot breath mixed with yours, spurring you to move faster when his stomach contracted, and he whined into the depths of your mouth.

“You—I… oh fuck—fuck! Look at me, lemme see you,” he wailed, his voice an octave higher and filled with urgency.

The second you pulled back to glance at him, he bit savagely into his bottom lip and his eyes travelled between your face and your tits that moved in time with your frantic bouncing. It made you smile, lopsided and punch drunk, seeing your husband still so affected by you after all these years. His cheeks were a ruddy pink, droplets of sweat running from his hair to his jaw and if eyes could look like hearts, then that would be the only way to describe the love and adoration following your every movement.

“Fuck—love you. So much. Fucking goddess… so beautiful,” he slurred enthusiastically.

Hiromi wrapped a hand around the hair he could reach, tugging it into his palm and driving upwards with sudden ferocity. Hiccuping from the unexpected change, you clenched around his length, letting him take over as the pressure in your belly reached the point of no return. Your orgasm broke over you more quickly than expected, the taut stretch of tension snapped in half as pleasure contracted your muscles and made you spasm over and over. He fucked you through it, holding your pliant body to take every impact of his cock drilling into you, angling you so that the soft tissue near your belly cushioned him perfectly.

He was lost to his desires, to his obsession of memorising every line and detail of your blissed out face. Your glasses squint and foggy, eyelids drooped and mouth agape. Your breasts jiggled perfectly, shiny from his spit, tender and swollen from his mouth and how he had bitten and suckled your skin. What pushed him over the edge was the reflection in your lens, his face reflected back to him and the raw adoration more than evident in his expression. He loved you. He loved you much, and he would never able to verbalise it as eloquently as he would like, despite his years of schooling and far from lacking vocabulary.

Everything was perfection to him; you were his everything and he poured the entirety of his essence into the orgasm that shot through him with a sound like a war cry. Only then did he loosen his hold, welcoming you to drape yourself against his panting chest. Boneless and dewy with sweat, your skin tasted salty when his lips found your shoulder and he licked at it like a kitten drinking milk.

“That was…” you panted, trying to catch your breath. “That was something, huh?”

“It was more than just something.” Hiromi kissed your cheeks before returning to your mouth, speaking with his lips ghosting yours. “You’ve really got no idea how sexy I find you, do you?”

His cock twitched, sloppy movements causing you to arch and stretch from the continued fullness of being impaled. Of course you knew, it was written all over his face, but it still made you flush to think about, not least admit.

“I have some idea.”

Hiromi sighed, a happy sigh though he shook his head. “Darling, you have no idea.”

[saylorsaysstop]

Home | Dick Grayson

↪ Likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcome! ⭐️

↪ My Masterlist

↪ Prompt: “Nothing feels as good as coming home to you.” “Nothing feels as good as having you come home to me.”

When Dick made the transition from Blüdhaven to Gotham when the team needed him, you came along. He couldn’t rest comfortably knowing you were thirty minutes away from him. He wanted you there every night he came home, wanted the knowledge that you were safe in a home with him each night. He was more than relieved when you immediately said yes to coming to Gotham with him. 

It was another late night with you hounding the evidence board, placing sticky notes on the latest clues in crime. Cobblepot was heavy on the radar at the moment, where Nightwing, Red Hood, and Red Robin were going to– scout and interrogate suspects on the whereabouts of the Iceberg Lounge owner. 

Nibbling on the cap to the Bic pen in your hand, you stand back and observe. Using a red string, you connected crime scenes and possible hits Oswald would take to next in the city. Dick was lucky to have you, and you even went and impressed the Batman himself. He joked frequently that he was two seconds away from making a secret identity for you and suiting you up to join on patrol, only quieting when Dick threw very aggressive glares in his father’s direction. 

You heard the jostling of the door before it opened, revealing the man in question. Dick Grayson strutted into the room, his powerful legs bringing him into the room in seconds. The automatic doors shut behind him and he removed his cowl, his dark strands of hair mused from what you knew to be his hand running through it. 

“Hey, you,” You shoot him a smile. Dick looked up and took notice of the board. 

“Hey, baby,” He sighed, smiling at you. “Anything?” He points an index finger toward the evidence board. 

“I’ve got a little headway,” You answer truthfully. “I mapped out possible locations Cobblepot may place his guys, but I’m hoping Tim or Jason will offer more insight once they get here.” 

Dick exhaled, nodding his head. You notice him wince. 

“Dick– are you hurt?” You gasp, putting the pen down and rushing. Immediately, your boyfriend lifted his hand and shook his head.

“It’s fine. Just a scrape.” He chuckled. That’s when you noticed the red seeping through the cut in his suit.

“Richard John Grayson!” You gasp, rushing over to him. Dick never wanted to worry you. He took a seat after pressing his hand to the scanner to lift the medical bed from the floor. In one fluid motion – and a groan – Dick unfastens his suit and slowly rolls it down his body, revealing ab after chiseled ba. Cuts and grooves in his sides often make your mouth water, but right now you were thrown into protective mode. 

You rushed to grab the first aid kit and make it to him to see the gash on his left side, just above his hip. “Someone worked on their knife skills. Caught me off-guard.” He admits with a sheepish grin. You shake your head and quickly get to work, cleaning the cut with an antiseptic that makes Dick flinch under your touch. 

“I can’t have you getting hurt out there, Grayson. I need you.” You sigh, giving all your attention to mending his small wound. Dick watched your hands work on his side, his tongue gently wetting his lips. 

“I need you too,” He whispers, softly grazing your hip with his hand. “Have I told you lately how much I adore you?” 

Smirking, you take a peek at him through your lashes, seeing he is wearing his signature smile. Pearly whites on display, you feel the heat creep up your neck. 

“You like to remind me, I’ve noticed.” You sigh. “But it never hurts to hear it again.” 

Dick grins wider, knowing he’s got you under his thumb. You finish up by adding a bandage as he gently rises to a sitting position. Spreading his legs apart, he pulls you into the space between his knees and stares at you adoringly. 

“Nothing feels as good as coming home to you,” Dick whispers, cradling the back of your head in his large hand, his fingers splaying across the back of your skull. A soft whine falls from your lips as you savor the thorough feel of his digits lightly massaging your scalp, earning you to rise onto the tips of your toes, lavishing in his attention to you. 

Falling forward slightly, Dick wraps his arms around you and holds you close to him. The heat radiates off his skin even through your clothes, and you ease your head back to stare up into the beautiful ocean he has for eyes.

“Nothing feels as good as having you come home to me… Even if you did take a little injury,” You giggle. 

The feel of Dick’s lips crashing to yours is all you need to succumb to the insatiable want that develops deep in your belly for him, the desperate need to have all of him. He reaches for the hem of your shirt, working it over your head. Although it could be any moment that the rest of the group would return from patrol, Dick read your thoughts.

“I don’t need much time to get you screaming for me… We’ll be quick.” He seals the promise with a chastising kiss to your throat, his tongue unlocking a deep moan to rise in your throat and pierce the air. 

[hanasnx]

MINORS DNI 18+

“I don’t like it.” you muse, scrunching your nose as you uneasily stroke it with your fingertips. HAYDEN CHRISTENSEN catches you around the wrist, gently leading your hand away from his mustache.

“Well, lucky for you, it’s almost gone.” he assures, stroking your skin with his thumb. He’d been working on his latest project which required that he not shave, and it was jarring to say the least. You still haven’t gotten used to the look of it on your usually clean-shaven partner. It’s not that it offends you, or disgusts you in the slightest, merely unnatural. The film is close to completion, which means it won’t be here for much longer. You tilt your head at it, and when he leans in for a kiss you turn your cheek. He idles, and scoffs. Understandably taken aback. “Really? Still?”

“I don’t like the feeling of it on my upper lip.” you insist, and with a sigh he plants the peck on your upper cheek. Those soft and plump lips make you yearn a bit, clutching a little tighter onto the front of his coat. The familiar feeling of your cling signals him to linger, letting his breath wash over you as he places another, an arm winding around your torso to press your body to his. This kiss is sweeter, longer, deliberate.

It breaks, but his lips brush your skin. “I miss kissing you.” he says softly, an edge of defeat to it. The ends of the firmer hairs graze you as he speaks. He knows you have a sensory issue, and you’ve complained about a rug-burn-like sensation stinging your sensitive skin inexperienced in dealing with facial hair scraping against it carelessly. Tentatively, you face him, meeting his hooded gaze.

Peering up at him like this, seeing as he towers over you, you chew your lower lip while you deliberate over whether or not you should ask this. “You could… keep kissing me.” you suggest, and when he accepts the request he leans forward again. You’re quick to interrupt him, “I mean- somewhere else.”

Having successfully lured him into bed with you, you’re quick to shove his head between your legs, tangling your fingers in his darkened hair as you lift your hips. Eager lips latch onto your folds to scoop his tongue through your slit, tracing your lines with spit before dipping in. Your grateful hole loosens for his entry, his experienced tongue sinking in to devour all you have to offer.

Your hand slides to the back of his head, pushing it down to grind on it. Wet pussy ruts on his face, and the new sensation of hair scrapes against the sensitive tissue every so often. It feels… good in a way. It’s foreign, but you chase it anyways.

“Tastes so fucking good, baby.” he groans, his low voice reverberating through you, “You like humping my face?” You let out a whimper, tensing from his dirty talk which in turn draws him closer. Not that he cares about suffocating, in fact he’s enthusiastic about using his breathing holes to get you off. He moans as his lips enclose around your clit, massaging it between the velvety skin with a light suck. Facial hair grazes your vulva with a pleasant scrape, and the rock in your hips intensifies. Encouraging you, he hums excited “mhm”s, letting you twist your fingers into his hair at a near painful degree just to follow your orgasm. He parts his lips, the warm wetness of it imbibing as much of your tissue as it’ll allow, and his tongue flicks your clit around. Tremors pass through your body, nearing its limit as he peers at you from over your writhing form. He digs his face in, shaking it to swipe the flat of his tongue side-to-side against your bud, and you cry out. His mustache scratches your mound, but you don’t care, riding his mouth until you finish, soaking that facial hair with your cream.

“See?” His tongue rolls between his lips, tasting you with a proud smile. “S’not so bad.”

[rosehxnt]

why am i me?

characters: deuce spade, cater diamond, leona kingscholar, kalim al-asim, vil schoenheit summary: you can’t help but compare yourself to those you see on social media warnings: overall mentions of insecurity about appearance/personality, reader wears makeup (vil), kind of implied post book 4 (kalim), possibly ooc, anyone can be pretty, grammar is what i want it to be

Deuce Spade  “Why is everyone on this app prettier than me?” you mused, looking through the pictures of various magicam stars. “Ugh, I hate it here,” you said dramatically as you threw your phone down against the couch.  “Did someone say something?” Deuce was already on his feet, ready to fight someone on your behalf.  With calculated words and good reasoning skills of course. Not fists, never fists.  “No one said anything I just feel…” you trailed off, hoping you didn’t have to say it but your boyfriend’s look of concern pushed you on.  “…lackluster compared to everyone else.”  "That's not true!" His enthusiasm about it almost startled you. "I think you're the prettiest in all of twisted wonderland."  "But look at all these people." You went to retrieve your phone but Deuce intercepted you and tossed it on a nearby table. You were slightly concerned about the state of the screen but were quickly distracted.  "Those people don't matter right now, so stop comparing yourself to them." He sat next to you. "I like you how you are, and I won't stop reminding you of that until you realize you're just as pretty, if not exceeding in prettiness, compared to everyone else."

Cater Diamond  He couldn't say he didn't relate to you, but other things were more important at the moment.  Cater watched your frustrated face as you tried to pull off the latest trend on magicam. He wished he could secretly capture it and post it with a 'totes adorbs' caption but he had promised you not to do that without permission.  "I can help you if you want," he offered from across the table.  "I got this," you assured him. "I just need to figure out how they did this one part."  You also needed to figure out how they did the part after that, and the one after that.  Cater could tell, and you could tell that he could tell. There was no other option at this point.  "Okay, I need help."  The next few minutes consisted of Cater leading you through the steps of the trend but you just couldn't get it down like everyone else seemed to. Cater could sense the previous frustration was close to making you even more upset.  "How about you do it this way." He shifted your phone so it'd be easier.  "But it looks cooler the way everyone else is doing it," you said as you moved it back in place.  "What if we do it as a couple? That'll be cool."  "You promise?"  "I promise," Cater said as he took control of your phone again.

Leona Kingscholar  Laying next to Leona in his bed, you scrolled through your magicam feed to find that some students in your class were throwing a party.  "Do you ever feel like we're not fun enough?"  He barely shifted to look at you, his green eyes opening to meet yours.  "What do you mean by that?"  "Like we never go to parties or school events and stuff." You sat up. "Places where people have fun."  Leona was sitting up ever so slightly now. "Do you really want to hang out with people you barely know?"  You stopped to think about the excruciating small talk you'd have to go through since as far as you knew none of your friends were going to be attending.  "I know I'd rather be spending my time here with you," Leona broke the brief silence. "It's fun in our own way."  "Really?"  "You heard me, herbivore. I'm not gonna say it again." He settled back down.  Giving no response you dove back to where you were laying. Leona grabbed you by your waist and pulled you towards him, settling his face in the crook of your neck. You smiled, knowing spending the evening in his arms would be much more fun than some party.

Kalim Al-Asim  With your living conditions being less than ideal, you couldn't say you had the resources to buy any trendy or expensive clothes.  This often caused you to silently lament over the fashion of others, sometimes growing into jealousy. The worst part was that you felt bad whenever you became envious of your boyfriend, Kalim, who was by no means lacking in money.  Today was one of those days.  Watching him sift through his latest shopping spree you found yourself becoming quieter in your responses. You didn't think he would notice until he spoke.  "Is something wrong? You're not as energetic as normal."  "No, I'm just feeling a bit tired right now." You tried to force a smile as you reassured him. But he could sense something was up with your facade.  "Did you want to go shopping too? I know you said you were busy but we can always go again," Kalim said, moving closer to you.  "I'm fine, I don't exactly have the funds for it anyway."  "I can pay!" Always the optimist, a smile spread across his face. "We can make a date out of it!"  "Thank you for offering but I don't want to use you like that," you said.  "I'll be okay." He met your eyes. "Please let me do this for you."  You couldn't help but smile at Kalim's actions. "Okay, let's go."  "Yay! Shopping date here we come!"  "Maybe we should ask Jamil first," you suggested while you took his hand as he led you out of the dorm.

Vil Schoenheit  You shuffled across the floor of the pomfiore dorm, phone dangling from your hand as students both avoided you and somehow led you to who you were there to see.  "I'm sorry if I'm bothering you but-"  "My dear potato, you could never bother me," Vil turned to look at you. "What's the matter?"  You stared at your shoes for a moment, too embarrassed to show your face even from this far away. Sensing your apprehension, he stood and took even, elegant steps your way.  "If you don't tell me, I can't help you."  You finally raised your head to make eye contact with the man. "I tried a makeup tutorial I saw online and I look like a clown, not in a fun way. I don't understand how the person in the pictures looks so good and I can't."  "Show me what you were going for, I'm sure I'll be able to help."  Over the duration of the afternoon, Vil showed you not only the proper way to perform the look you were going for but also what colors suited you best and the proper technique to use. He even redid your makeup and allowed you to borrow some items from his collection to use for practice.  Vil sat you in front of his vanity mirror, letting you get used to your new appearance. You inspected how the soft hues looked against your skin, how they complimented you much better than the ones before, enhancing your nose and showing off your eye shape.  "I went with something more natural looking," he said from behind you. "I hope you don't mind, liebling, for you are lovely just the way you are."

a/n: my apologies for some being longer than others or more self-inserty but this will be the first piece of writing i'm posting so i hope it's enjoyable at least m.list & rules

© rosehxnt

[daizymax]

the ways we love | lfl (m)

summary: periods of work mean periods without play between you and your longtime boyfriend. after he offers to be the muse for your latest artistic piece, you realize just how much you appreciate his never-ending support.

pairing: felix x fem reader

genre: smut

word count: 7.9k

rating: mature (18+)

warnings & features: established relationship; profanity; mentions of alcohol consumption and (past) drunken sex; public marriage proposal; brief mention of having children; graphic sexual content; dom!felix; dirty talk; use of pet names; fingering; some spit play; oral sex (m receiving); some spanking; penetrative sex; multiple orgasms; creampie; aftercare

author’s note: rewritten for stray kids and reuploaded from my old blog. i think this will be the last of the fics from my old blog that i'll be reuploading here for the foreseeable future. also, i forgot how much fun i had writing the smut in this one. hope you enjoy!

( click here to read on AO3 instead )

---

He had started off so well. He was relaxed, comfortable, cheerful. Happy to help. This was his idea, after all.

But now… now he’s fidgety. Anxious and bored. You sympathize with that, but if he doesn’t — “Doll, can you please stop moving?” — then you’re ready to give up this entire project already.

“I’m sorry,” he sighs in that sweet, deep voice of his. “You’re just being so quiet. I thought you’d at least talk to me and let me know how it’s coming.”

You spare him a quick, direct glance before refocusing on the canvas. “I’m not going to give you a play-by-play of every mark I make, Lix. I need to concentrate. I want this to be as perfect as you are.”

Felix huffs and averts his eyes, but you know you have appeased him from the way he falls silent and relaxes his shoulders again. The new pink hue spreading across his freckled nose, ears and cheeks would be a nice touch if only you were ready to add color to the piece. For now, you store the inspirational image away for later.

You manage to finish your outline and flesh out some details around his nose before his real-live self ruins his posture — and subsequently, the lighting on his face — by shifting in his seat yet again. With a sigh, you set your utensils aside, wipe your palms on your pants and say, “How about a break? Let me get you a drink.”

Whatever his answer was going to be — agreement, argument, or otherwise — does not have time to be voiced before you are breezing by him and into the kitchen. When you return, he accepts the glass of water and obeys your command to drink up. You watch as he tips an ice cube into his mouth and licks his heart-shaped lips afterward.

He mistakes your admiration for scrutiny. “What’s wrong?”

You smooth some stray hairs near his ear and poke the bulge of ice in his cheek. “Nothing at all. I just like looking at you.”

He crunches the ice and blushes deeper. “Thanks. Don’t you need to do that from the other side of the room, though? Any idea when you might be finished?”

You shrug and fuss with the collar of his shirt until it un-creases. “You know I can’t answer that. A few hours? Days? Weeks? Whenever I’m satisfied with it. Or whenever you say, ‘Fuck you, I’m done with this.’ I told you I can always just use a photo to finish this so you don’t have to model for me.”

Felix smiles softly. “No, I don’t want you to do that. I volunteered, didn’t I? I like modeling for you. It feels fancy to do it this way, like it might turn out better if we do it like this.”

“Maybe, maybe not. Maybe it’ll be so awful you’ll leave me over how monstrous I make you look.”

“Well, at least that would make an interesting story to tell my next girlfriend.”

You giggle. “That’s true. Why don’t I just do a caricature? That way, if it looks bad, I can pretend it was on purpose.”

“No. God no,” he says firmly. “You’re too good an artist to be making pieces look silly on purpose.”

You peck his forehead. “Well, if you want this to be ‘professional,’ you have to sit still for me, doll.”

“I will. I’ll behave.” He tilts his chin to seek out your lips, and you willingly give them up. You smile into the kiss when you see him fumble to set his glass aside on the coffee table beside him without breaking contact with you. Before he can free up his hands to do goodness-knows-what with them, you slink away, back to your easel.

“You just told me you’d behave. If you’re not backing out, then I’m still working, and that means no playing,” you remind him.

He knows, but there is still a hint of disappointment in his dark brown gaze.

These abstinence periods are relatively new to your long-standing relationship. You suppose most people would think a couple purposefully denying themselves sex would tear a wedge of stress and resentment between them, but that has not been the case with you and Felix. It’s a stimulus. A game. A challenging one, to be sure, but always immensely rewarding.

So that is what you have both agreed: there is no sex while you are working on a piece. Not until the job is finished.

“How long do you think this one will take?” Felix asks again.

You plop down in your seat with a light groan and gather your utensils again. “The answer is the same, Lix. I can’t say for sure. A few hours, days, weeks?”

Your pretty muse nods and takes another sip of water as he mentally prepares himself for the oncoming drought. He does his best to relax in his seat again, and you flash him a smile before getting back to work.

---

It takes twelve days to complete the portrait, and Felix is not even sitting across from you when the last stroke falls upon the canvas. He might be offended by this once he finds out, but you couldn’t stop yourself from finishing without him. Besides, you know he will ultimately be as happy as you are that it is finally finished.

Truthfully, you might have been able to do most of the portrait simply from memory; you know his face as well as your own by now.

A sigh flutters past your lips. You take a step back to better admire (and scrutinize) your work. As you scan it over, you can’t help but smile. Not just out of pride for the job you did, but because of the striking resemblance you have been striving to achieve.

It is always difficult to instill life and warmth into mere lines and dots and smudges, but the two-dimensional rendition truly seems as though it could begin breathing at any moment, and a fresh wave of fondness for your best friend and lover as the real-life person he is comes over you. That is how you know you are satisfied, and not just in terms of your finished project.

This is something to celebrate, so after deciding how you want to do so, you pick up your phone to text Felix about an important dilemma.

[You: hey i forgot what you’re wearing today]

There is enough time to change out of your old, splattered overalls and heat up a late lunch before your phone buzzes back.

[Felix: i know it’s been a while since we’ve sexted but i think you meant to phrase that as “what are you wearing” with a smirk emoji]

You almost choke on a bite of your food as you laugh out loud.

You: dfjfdjso i’m not trying to sext you. i just need to know if you’re dressed nicely enough for a restaurant with a decent wine list tonight. we have some celebrating to do

[Felix: how come?]

[You: it’s finished]

This time your phone does not buzz. It rings.

“You finished the portrait?” Felix’s voice is hushed and a little rushed. You can tell he is on the move, probably heading somewhere away from his co-workers and customers for a more private conversation.

“It’s signed and everything,” you say cheerfully.

“That’s fantastic!” he says, not the least bit offended. “This is definitely worth celebrating. We should go to the nicest place in town and dress to the nines.”

More laughter bursts from deep in your chest. “Wha— I mean, it’s still just a portrait, Lix. I didn’t win an award or solve a murder case or anything.”

“So? I” — you hear the sound of a door closing in the background — “sat in that chair for a hundred years and went celibate waiting for that portrait to be done. No offense. This deserves a grand celebration.”

Your eyeroll can probably be heard through the receiver. “It didn’t take that long, did it? It was less than two weeks. Remember that waterfall landscape I did?”

Felix grunts at the memory. “Yeah, how can I forget? Longest month-and-a-half of my entire life.”

“It was worth it in the end, though, wasn’t it?” you say, remembering how neither of you could walk properly for at least a couple days after you finished that particular piece, which is now proudly mounted on a wall in the master bedroom. “Come on, doll. When I pick you up, we’ll go out and have that decent wine with a decent meal so the public knows we’re celebrating something, and then we’ll come home and fuck each other blind, okay?”

There was a time years ago when he might have choked and sputtered over your words, but this lewd proposal is mild, and today he doesn’t flinch.

“If that’s what Madame Artiste wants, then that’s what she’ll get,” Felix says.

He offers you a choice between two restaurants he deems himself dressed appropriately for without having to come home and change, and once you choose, he asks, “Can you just bring my navy suit jacket with you so I can make this outfit work, please? I’ll see you later. I can’t wait.”

He ends the call with the sound of a kiss.

---

The chimes on the door draw the attention of three pairs of eyes, and the sight of you stepping into the salon brings a smile to Felix’s face. Well, the mask on the lower half of his face prevents you from actually seeing his smile, but the happiness is there in his deep brown eyes.

“Hi,” he says, scanning your date-night outfit with obvious appreciation. “Be right with you.”

“Take your time,” you say, smiling at the customer sitting across from him. She smiles back politely and returns her attention to Felix, who goes back to focusing on her fingernails. He meticulously sweeps an emery board across the rounded ruby shapes to finish smoothing them out.

The third person in the salon gets up from his cozy perch in one of the pedicure chairs at the end of the row and crosses the floor.

“You look so nice, Y/N. Is it date night?”

“Yep, we’re off to dinner,” you say, accepting the man’s hug. “What’s new, Ji?”

“Oh, not much.” Jisung shrugs and takes one of your hands. He inspects your fingernails, which have unsightly matte polka dots chipped in the gloss. “Want me to redo these before you go? It won’t take that long.”

You let out a fleeting giggle. “Honestly, I don’t know why I bother getting them done in the first place when I put so much wear and tear on them. This damage only took me a week.”

“Well that’s because—” Jisung shoots your boyfriend a quick look and clearly alters the second part of his statement, “—you did them at home. You need to have them professionally done.”

His way of criticizing Felix’s work while leaving the customer in the room none the wiser is clever, and you have half a mind to applaud him for poking fun at his friend without hurting their business.

The comment is not lost on Felix. He glares over at you and Jisung, but he cannot seem to think of a subtle rebuttal, so he stews in silence.

“Ah, maybe that’s my problem,” you say, grinning.

“Give me, like, fifteen minutes and you’ll be all set,” Jisung promises.

As he’s making his offer, Felix finishes with the woman. From the edge of your vision, you see him remove his mask and lead her to the register to finish the transaction.

“Are you working Saturday morning?” you ask Jisung. “I’ll stop in then and you can do my toes, too.”

Before he can either confirm or deny the appointment, Felix interrupts by coming up behind you and waving his tip in front of your face. “Here, look what my ‘unprofessional’ work got us,” he says. “Buy yourself something nice, baby.”

You chuckle at his little joke until you flick through the bills and realize just how much worth is in them. “Wow, Lix, she was so generous!”

“She was appreciative of the amazing job I did,” he corrects with a peck to your cheek, then he takes his suit jacket from your arms to slip it on. “Sorry, Ji, we have to go. Ready, Y/N?”

“Ready,” you say.

“Sounds good,” Jisung replies at the same time. “I’ll lock up here. Enjoy your date, guys. See you Saturday, Y/N.”

---

The wine is more than decent, the food hits all the right spots, and the company is absolutely perfect.

Felix laughs happily from across the table. Strands of pale blonde hair trickle past his ears the further he tips his head back, and the apples of his cheeks are hued pink from where the rosé has gone. His smile loses none of its dazzle when the waiter interrupts to check on the two of you. The sheer warmth he radiates is boundless in the most endearing way.

When the waiter leaves, you watch Felix lean back in his chair. His eyes land on yours, and while some of the amusement fades from his face, the fondness remains. You see it there, twinkling in the inky pools of his irises; you feel it in the comfort he exudes while he is with you.

For some reason, the contentment of the moment draws something to mind. “Do you remember when we first met?” you ask out of the blue.

The corners of his eyes crinkle. “Of course I do. Remember how you tried to kiss me?”

“Oh my god, yes,” you groan. “Honestly, I still don’t remember a whole lot about that night, but I definitely remember you saying, ‘Oh, no thank you,’ right in my face.”

“Listen,” he laughs in defense, holding up a finger. “I was trying to be polite. I was trying to be a gentleman. You were a hot mess. That party had you twenty so’s-worth of shit-faced.”

“Twenty what?”

“You were so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, soooo…” he starts chanting his stupid joke.

You giggle and hang your head. “Okay, okay, I get it.”

“Hang on.” He holds that finger up higher. “So, so, SOOOO—”

“I said I get it already!”

“—so shit-faced. I didn’t want to embarrass you.”

“You did embarrass me, though! By rejecting me.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he says, dipping his head in apology, “but we both would’ve been way more embarrassed if we’d slept together that night. It would’ve been a disaster.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “What makes you think I would’ve slept with you so soon?”

“Uh. Did you or did you not sleep with my roommate that night instead?”

“Fair enough," you say, toasting your wine glass in his direction. “It’s only funny now because we’re the ones who ended up together.”

Felix smiles. “Thank goodness for that. Life is pretty incredible with you in it, sweetheart.”

His words sober you a bit, and you smile back almost shyly. “I could say the same about you, doll.”

He probably does not always love you as much and as effortlessly as he does right now. He certainly is not always his best, most charming self the way he is right now. Neither are you. But he is still worth loving when he is at his worst, and if you could have moments like these scattered all throughout the rest of your life, you feel it would be enough. His love and support and respect and admiration are more than enough.

So it comes as a soft entreaty rather than a question; out of the blue again, but also a long time coming: “Please marry me.”

This time Felix raises an eyebrow. He seems more intrigued than surprised by your impromptu proposal. Then he half-purses, half-pouts his lips in a cheeky sort of expression, like he thinks you’re bluffing but is willing to play along anyway.

That feeling of overconfidence you had that first drunken night when you leaned in to kiss him in a stranger’s kitchen comes back, as does the fear of the rejection you suffered immediately afterward. If he says ‘Oh, no thank you,’ again, you wonder if you’ll die of embarrassment right here in this restaurant, surrounded by different strangers with different alcohol on your breath.

But you know he won’t, not even as a joke, because he knows you now. He knows you well, and he sees the sincerity in your face.

“I don’t have a ring,” you go on, “but I’ll get down on one knee right here, right now. This dress won’t stop me.”

Wordlessly, Felix lifts his napkin from his lap to lay it across his plate, then leans sideways to pull something from his pocket. He casually holds it up for your inspection, and once you realize what it is, you move to kneel in front of him as promised without even questioning the coincidence. Now is not the time for questions. Now is the time to show how serious you are about this.

Felix stares down at you and pries open the tiny case to reveal the brilliance of the diamond’s sparkle. Your fingers are sure and steady when he slips the top-heavy band onto the appropriate one.

“I would be honored to marry you,” he says softly, poking back and forth at the engagement ring with the edge of his thumbnail.

By now there are dozens of eyes on the quiet scene the two of you are making, but his are the only pair you see. His smile is still there, softer and smaller now, but still brimming with the adoration he has gained over the years. It widens when you rise up just enough to press your lips to it. His hand finds the back of your head the same second yours cups his.

A round of coos and charmed applause from the crowd goes up around you, but it is all background noise to the sound of Felix’s precious, giddy laughter.

---

He is no longer laughing by the time you throw the front door shut and press him up against it. The needy kisses between here and the car have taken most of his oxygen.

“Shit,” he hisses, watching you work his belt buckle. “You get a ring on your finger and you turn feral, is that how it works?”

You growl playfully but say nothing.

“You better slow down, tiger, or we won’t last five minutes.”

“Don’t care.”

“Aren’t you gonna show me what we waited so long for this for first?”

“Later. I thought you were dying of celibacy?” you sass.

Felix clicks his tongue. The simple sound is quiet, but it shifts the air. You stop trying to get into his pants to give his dark eyes your undivided attention.

“We have all the time in the world now, don’t we?” he murmurs, as though the hard-on in his jeans is not growing as impatient as you.

You swallow. “I just want you so badly. It hurts.”

His gaze sharpens at your tone. “Does it?” He reaches up to graze a thumb along your bottom lip. “Where does it hurt, sweetheart? Here?”

The sound you let out is something between a hum and a whine. You feel so sex-starved, so desperate for any morsel of pleasure he can feed you. You try to take his thumb into your mouth, but he slips it away too fast, plucking your lip as he goes. He brushes across your breast next. The sensation is dulled by your clothing, but your nipple stands to attention nonetheless.

“What about here?” he whispers.

“Yes…” The fingers that had been so keen on removing his belt cling idly to the leather.

“Aw.” Felix pouts and bats his eyelashes at you, but his sympathy feels insincere. He’s amused by the state of you. He adores seeing you so riled up and pliant for him.

His thumb trails further, straight down your stomach, while the rest of his fingers are kept stiff and carefully away from your buzzing body.

Eventually, he reaches the crease between your thighs and presses through the layers of your dress and your panties where he estimates your clit to be. He is a little north at first but quickly readjusts his position. The soft moan you let out is a dead giveaway for when he has found it.

“And here?” He takes a step closer while he begins drawing tiny circles. “Tell me, angel, does it hurt here?”

“Yes. Yes...”

He kisses your cheek tenderly. Mercifully. His deep voice is pitched even deeper when he murmurs, “Shh. I know it does. It’s finally time for me to make it better, isn’t it.”

You cant your hips against his hand. “Felix, please...”

“Come here.”

He trades places to cage you up against the front door. You reach for him, but he draws back out of reach to shrug out of his jacket first. After he carefully pushes the sleeves of his sweater up, he uses both hands to hike your dress up along your waist. There is no rush to his movements. In fact, it’s almost graceful the way he does it, as though the actions he is about to perform could be considered decent.

When you try to remove your underwear from his way, he nudges your hands aside. “Ah-ah-ah,” he tuts. “We’re getting ahead of ourselves. Tell me the safe word first, Y/N.”

After all this time, he still has you say it out loud beforehand. Beneath your eager lust, you appreciate the basic act of care and commitment to playing the dominant role.

“Candle,” you answer.

He thanks you as though you’ve done him a favor and places a light kiss on the edge of your jaw. Then he hooks his thumb through the side of your panties to touch the hood of your bare clit directly. A jolt of electricity singes your nerves from his first flick. Your body noticeably quivers, and Felix smirks at his quick, effortless effect on you.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” he drawls lowly.

You swallow again, drier this time. “Mm-hm.”

“Because we don’t play while you’re working anymore, do we?”

You shake your head. “Hm-mm.”

“And you’ve been working so hard, haven’t you, baby?”

You hum again, louder this time. Or maybe it’s a full-blown moan. Whatever the sound is, it becomes incessant over each passing second and each pass of his thumb. Every noise you make is met with a return sigh or hum from Felix. Every jerk of your hips is matched by a tilt of his head or other shift in his posture.

Getting fingered like this, fully dressed and up against the front door of your home, spikes a carnal, filthy pleasure into your blood. It sears through your muscles, hotter and hotter until it beads between your skin and your clothes. You want to take them off, but you dare not stop Felix for a second. You keen with lust and desperation.

“I know. I know,” he purrs, soft and sweet as a kitten. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Feels so good...” He nuzzles the space between your jaw and your neck and inhales deeply.

You tilt your face away to give him better access, but he peels back and takes your chin in his other hand to steer you back toward him. A puff of hot breath hits your damp temple; it almost feels cool.

“Eyes on me. Good girl.” His gaze skims down your form. “You’re still shaking. All I’ve done is touch your clit and you’re that close already, huh?”

“Yes, so close,” you admit, completely unashamed. “Just keep going, please just keep going.”

Felix smiles and takes the sweat from your temple with a pair of kisses. “How can I say no when you beg me so nicely like the perfect angel you are? Hold onto me. C’mon.”

You instinctively go to clutch his biceps but think of a better idea and hook your arms around his neck instead. Felix allows you to pull him even closer and finally — finally — slips another finger into your panties. He pushes it into your opening with almost no resistance, and you gasp when his knuckles bottom out inside you. Just as quickly as the finger entered, a second one joins and curls. He keeps them buried for a moment, then drags them back out to smear the juices he collected around your swollen bud. The slipperier his work gets, the more he enjoys it.

“Your pussy is so perfect,” he breathes. “Spread your legs. I want to feel just how wet it gets for me.”

You obediently open your legs wider, and he delves back in immediately, fast enough that his palm audibly claps against your slick lips, hard enough to send your head tipping backward to thump against the door. When his thumb drops back to your clit and nudges under the hood this time, you know it won’t be long until you’re unraveled.

“Ohhh my god,” you groan. More sweat builds on your forehead, on your chest, under your arms, along the backs of your knees. You grow lightheaded from the static in your veins from being fucked open by Felix’s talented, diligent fingers.

“That’s it,” he pants. You’re not sure when he became so breathless. “That’s it, sweetheart. Let go. Come for me. Come for me. Come.”

Another dozen strokes and you do as you’re told with a pinched yelp. Felix kisses your throat as he works you up your high and eases you back down, undulating his wrist and babbling encouragements into your sticky skin.

“That’s it, squeeze my fingers, just like that. Squeeze ‘em tight. Tight. There you go. That’s my good girl. So gorgeous when you come. So fucking perfect. Hey.”

The hand not still knuckle-deep in your pussy cups your cheek and pulls you in. He swallows the whines and the airless, nonsensical words of thanks you huff between kisses.

Once your breathing has had time to settle, he gingerly slips his fingers from your sensitive, throbbing walls. He doesn’t even look at those fingers as he brings them to his tongue. In fact, he closes his eyes altogether as he laps the tips and moans indulgently, as though this is the first time he has ever tasted you.

When he is done cleaning the mess you made on him, he looks you in the eye and says, “Now that we’ve rubbed out that easy one, I’m open to suggestions on what to do next.”

“Let me return the favor?” You inflect it as a question.

Felix smirks. “It wasn’t a favor, sweetheart, it was a pleasure. But since you’re asking so nicely again… c’mere.”

He tugs you by the hands and begins walking backward, slipping out of his shoes as he goes, and you follow his lead. You assume he is bringing you to the bedroom, but he stops when his feet hit the carpet in the living room and glances over his shoulder. It must be the chair he was looking for because he then moves toward it with a sense of purpose, leaving you a few paces behind.

“Strip,” he orders. His voice is even and his expression is calm as he sits and crosses an ankle over his opposite knee.

You move to obey without hesitation, twisting your arm behind your back to yank down the zipper on your dress. Felix keeps his eyes fixed on your face as you peel the gown away from your shoulders. Gravity takes the fabric to your waist, and you shove it down the rest of the way to step out of it completely. Next, you snap one of your bra straps with an eyebrow cocked in question.

Felix nods. “Mhm. Keep going ‘til you’re in nothing but that ring.”

You had nearly forgotten about it. You lift your hand to look at it again, but a sudden noise startles you. It sounds like more of a crack than a snap from the way it ricochets off the walls of your home, though you know a snap is exactly what it was by the pose of Felix’s fingers in the air.

“Don’t get distracted now,” he says, deep voice rumbling. He drops his hand back to his lap. “You’re being so good. Finish taking off your clothes, then come here.”

With his instructions, you unhook your bra and let it drop to the floor. His eyes dip to your naked chest, but his expression is more clinical than enticed.

You shove your thumbs into the band of your panties and stall there until you get the attention you want. It takes Felix a few seconds to realize you’re not moving and look back to your face. When he meets your eyes, he mouths the word ‘off,’ leaving his teeth planted in his bottom lip for an extended moment. Even when he is silent, you feel the authority radiating from him. You shiver when the air hits your slick, heated center.

Felix uncrosses his legs, and you finally glean a proper peek at your effect on him. The erection in his pants looks past the point of painful, but his demeanor is still relaxed as he invites you to stand in front of him by casually tossing a throw pillow at his feet. Once your toes brush against it, he reaches for your hands and sweeps his lips across your knuckles, quick and affectionate. Then his hands are on your waist, and near your ribs, and around the curves of your ass, and across your thighs. He soothes them up and down your skin, imprinting patches of heat everywhere he roams.

“There’s my gorgeous girl.” He leans forward and plants an open-mouthed kiss on your lower stomach, then peers up through his eyelashes at you and directs, “On your knees for me, gorgeous.”

Another look at his covered crotch and you do as you’re bid. When your knees touch down on the pillow, Felix shifts to whip his belt out of its loops at last. By the time it clanks to the floor, you’re already helping him with the button and the zipper. He lets you tug his pants down to and away from his ankles. His socks go next, and he takes care of his sweater and undershirt himself. His underwear is last but gone in a flash and then there he sits, stripped bare with his toned abdominals twitching and his cock standing flushed and rigid just for you. He is so goddamn beautiful.

“Is this what you want?” He leans back and takes his rosy length in a loose fist. “Is this what you’ve been being so good and working so hard for?”

You swallow and pretend it’s his precum sliding down your throat. “Yes.”

“What’s that, baby?” He strokes upward.

“Yes.”

“What do you say?” He strokes downward. Back up again. Your eyes may as well be stringed puppets with the way they follow helplessly.

“I said yes,” you repeat again.

And he patiently repeats: “No, what do you say? Look at me.”

Once you meet his lust-glazed stare, you don’t have to wrack your brain for the answer he’s looking for.

“Please,” you say, “let me suck your cock. I want it so badly. You deserve to feel good after waiting so long.”

Felix tucks his chin down, puckers his lips, and releases a ball of spit onto the head of his cock. Another soon follows, racing alongside the first, joining the trail of wetness that already leaked from the slit.

You shuffle closer between his knees and take him in your hand. He lets go of himself, but not before brushing his fingertips along the back of your hand. The gesture is deliberate, not coincidental, and you smile up at him. He smiles back, more with his eyes than his mouth. His mouth is used to give commands such as, “Put it in your mouth, sweetheart,” before leaning back comfortably. Even with his pulsing erection at your mercy, he is a marvel of beauty and dominance.

You give him a few strokes to spread the wetness around and simply enjoy the slick glide, then bend to take in his wet tip. He tastes delicious. Good enough for you to moan on contact, good enough for you to want to fill your entire mouth with his warm heaviness. He is tangy from his natural body and sweet from the taste of wine lingering in his spit. You sink down further, letting your tongue follow the path of a prominent vein.

“Open wide. That’s it,” he says. His voice is steady but barely there. The relief of finally being touched where he wants it most runs a succinct shiver through his legs, but otherwise he remains controlled, even when you tighten your lips to hollow your cheeks. “There you go. So good for me. So good at sucking my dick.”

His praise leaves you hungry for more, so you slather your tongue down and around his balls to hear the way his sighs and quiet pants start to crack his composure. He shifts his hips to ensure you can reach every sensitive part of him, and his cock feels just a bit stiffer when you try to swallow it down your throat.

“Hah,” he gasps. “Oh, fuck, baby, that’s it.”

On the armrest of the chair, his fist clenches tight enough to pop a knuckle. He soon releases it, however, and moves his hand toward you. You half-expect him to hold you in place because you know how much he enjoys being in your throat, but instead, he eases you off of him and uses his loose grip on the top of your head to roll it back in a slow, gentle circle along your neck and around your shoulders. A strand of spit — there is no way to tell whether it is yours or his — still bridges your lips to his swollen cock. You reach out to break it with your tongue, curling it devilishly. Felix watches with dark, hooded eyes.

“Dirty girl.” He wipes away the dribble on your chin with his thumb. “Where do you want it?”

You don’t quite understand his question. “Hm?”

Once again, he takes your hands in his, this time to help you up off the floor and onto his lap where he can sling your arms around his neck. The only conceivable reason for him to cut a blowjob so short is that he is already too close to coming. You won’t call him out on it, but you’re thrilled to know it’s true.

“I asked you where you want it. Where do you want me to fuck you?” His vulgar inquiry is warm honey on your tongue. “You want me to take you up against the wall? Fuck you so good and so hard that you can’t fucking walk in the morning? Hm?” His hum vibrates your lips with the sweetest melody. “Do you want me to take you in our bed, under the sheets, nice and slow, until you can’t remember your own name?” His lips are a soft, decadent treat you sink your teeth into. “Or do you want me to take you in this chair, right here where I sat while you were across the room working for hours and hours instead of bouncing on my dick?” His perfume is a laced drug that could leave you high in bliss for hours.

“Yes,” you breathe into his mouth. You pull at his lips, molding and folding them with yours while you feel up every inch of his skin you can reach — his jaw, his back, his arms, his chest, his stomach.

Felix relinquishes a shred of his control with a groan as he ravishes your lips right back. His own hands crawl along your shoulder blades, your spine, your ass. Eventually, he clears his head well enough to say, “That’s not an answer, sweetheart. You need to tell me right now where you want to fuck, or I’m choosing for you.”

“Here. Chair. Now,” you rasp brokenly.

He hoists you up right away, perching your ass halfway onto one of his forearms and using his other hand to drag his swollen, spongy cockhead through your folds until he finds your entrance. The tip slips inside with a stretch but little resistance, as does the rest of him until your lap and his are pressed flush against one another’s.

You rock your hips slowly to welcome the intrusion and ensure he is as deep and you are as full as possible, and his breath hitches from the movement. He lowers his eyes in a straight path from your eyes to your nose to your chin. His lips part as though he is going to say something, but after a couple seconds, he leans forward to give you another searing kiss instead, bracing a hand against your spine to keep you from tipping backward from the sudden motion.

Whatever he was going to say about how good it feels to be sunk in your wet heat again is conveyed through his tongue on yours and the way he clutches your bare skin.

Just when you think perhaps all his words have dried up, Felix sucks his mouth off yours, lays a slap across your ass, and grunts in deep bass: “Bounce for me, baby.”

You would love nothing more than to do just that, so you build up a steady pace as quick as you can. He is just thick enough to rub your walls and make them burn in the best way imaginable. The smacks that come from your pelvis and thighs meeting his over and over are lewd and wet and so fucking good. So fucking good.

You shut your eyes and hang your head back. “Oh my fucking god…”

Felix keeps an arm hooked around your moving waist while he paws at you from the front. He splays his free hand across your throat, applying just enough pressure to get a feel for your erratic pulse, then slips down your collarbone, down your chest to squeeze one of your tits.

“That’s it, baby. This is what we’ve been missing, isn’t it?” He lifts your breast and leans forward to wrap his lips around the perked nipple. The sensation makes you involuntarily clench around him, and he whimpers from the tightness. “Fuck, I’ve missed this so much.”

His admission spurs you to speed up. You try to roll your hips at the bottom of every drop, but your movements are getting sloppier the higher your pleasure climbs. It doesn’t seem to matter to Felix, though. His ragged breathing is a telltale sign of how good it feels to have your soaked pussy dragging up and down his cock. He tries to find your staggered rhythm in order to buck upward in time with your drops and help drive himself into your sweetest spot, but although both of you are hyper-concentrated on reaching your peaks, the coordination is not quite there.

“Sweetheart, you’re falling apart on my dick,” he moans with the little breath he has. “Jesus, you’re squeezing me so goddamn tight. You’ve already come once and now you’re about to soak my whole fucking lap, aren’t you?”

“Lix, I-I’m s-s-so-” you trill mindlessly.

“So close, I know.” He gives the fleshiest part of your ass another solid slap, then digs his fingers in to help you rock back and forth against him. “Do it. Come again on my fucking cock, baby. We’ve earned it.”

You work to get all the friction the ridges of his raw cock can give you, but the edge you’re chasing is still on the horizon, just a bit too far out of reach. “Felix, I can’t…”

“I’ll get you there,” he swears. “Let’s just—”

In no time, you’re on your back on the floor and Felix is plunging his steely length back between your drenched folds. Your legs automatically anchor themselves around his hips to steady yourself against the jarring pace he sets. The aftermath of the rough carpet on your bare skin is a worry for a later. Right now, you whine at him to go faster, go harder, just don’t fucking stop, whatever he does.

Felix leans close and takes one of your knees to push it back toward your chest so he can fuck into you deeper. His breath is hot and shaky and somewhere in the vicinity of your earlobe as he whispers, “Fuck, you’ve gotta come now, angel. Please.”

He readjusts his weight and his grip on you, pushes deep just a few more times, and you’re finally coming again, crying out and clenching around him so tight it nearly hurts from how hard he is inside you. He fucks you through your entire high, never stopping the solid snap-snap-snap of his slim hips.

“God, fuck, I’m right fucking there,” he huffs and pants. Sweat drips from his brow onto your cheek. “Where do you want it? Where should I come?”

“In me, come in me,” you beg, reaching down to squeeze his tight ass and urge him even deeper into your soaked depths.

Felix whines something wordlessly lyrical in a high alto as his release fills you with a sticky warmth. He fucks his cum into you with rough, staggered thrusts, his pace slowing but never completely stopping. Your legs begin to ache as he continues gingerly pumping himself. You assume his spent cock must hurt from the rising sensitivity following his orgasm, but he is not quite finished.

“Holy shit,” he whimpers. “Your pussy’s so fucking tight, I think I could come again.”

Your walls clench around him because you know he is serious. “Do it, baby,” you pant hard. “Use my pussy to come again. I want it all.”

“Yes, yes, yes. Just a little more, I’m gonna— fuck!”

He finds a second shaky high and buries his fingers in your hips deep enough that the bruises may last until your wedding day. The force with which he pulses a final spurt of cum toward your cervix is something you’re certain to remember for a long time as well.

“Holy shit,” Felix sighs again, blissful and fucked out. The two of you moan together when he slips out of you, still half hard. “Come here, angel.”

He slumps to the side and gathers you in his arms to face him. You tuck your forehead between his jaw and his shoulder, and he traces his fingertips along your shoulder blades where the skin is a little irritated from its row with the carpet. You’re not worried about the sting, but your nerves wince under his touch anyway, and he apologizes immediately.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I’m such an idiot. I shouldn’t have—”

“You’re not an idiot,” you giggle tiredly. “We’ve had worse rug burn before. Much worse.”

“I know, which means I know better than to have sex on the carpet.” He kisses your forehead and sweeps a thumb across your cheek. “I shouldn’t have gotten so caught up, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you insist. “Being fucked into the carpet never felt so good.”

Felix laughs quietly, deeply. “It was definitely worth the wait. I haven’t come twice in a row like that in a while.” His sigh is exhausted but pleased; his hug is weak but loving.

After a moment of recovery, he helps you stand and urges you to use the bathroom and change into something comfortable, and you agree on the condition he does the same.

Before you dress, he peppers sweet kisses along your lightly scraped skin and helps you apply lotion over it. He also insists that you drink at least half a glass of water to rehydrate yourself before you both return to the living room so you can finally show him what the two of you have been celebrating in the first place. He massages the back of your neck soothingly as you walk side by side.

“Alright, now I’m actually really proud of this, but you still need to be honest with me, okay?” you preface. Without waiting for him to respond, you whip the sheet covering the easel away with a flourish.

The moment it is revealed, Felix eyes dart over the portrait in patternless directions. You want to see inside that pretty head of his to know every thought going through his mind while he examines your depiction of him, but you can’t, so you keep your eyes trained on his pensive face and wait quietly for him to share whatever feedback he chooses.

“Y/N,” he eventually begins. You can’t tell if the hush in his tone is because he is awed or appalled.

“Yes?”

Felix turns to look you in the eye. “How do you keep outdoing yourself?”

A note of laughter pops past your lips, and the nervousness in it surprises you. “Well, you know what they say about practice. Does that mean you like it?”

“Are you kid— I love it! I don’t even know where to begin! The detail, Y/N! It’s so—” He faces his two-dimensional self again and waves his hand through the air in front of the canvas in a gesture you have no idea how to interpret. Then he extends a single finger toward the bottom edge of the canvas. “Like right here. The shadowing is so good. And the way you did the lighting here...” He lifts his finger higher to point at his painted cheekbones. “You did my freckles so well, I wouldn’t even be surprised if you captured literally every single one of them. It’s, like, scary good. And I don’t know if this is technically a critique towards the realism, but I don’t think my hair has ever actually looked this good in real life.”

You laugh louder, more happily. “I do think I did a pretty good job, but your real life self is way better than this, doll. Trust me.” You tuck a lock of hair behind his ear, and he brings his face back around to look at you again.

“I don’t even know what else to say without sounding dumb about it,” he tells you. It is not often he sounds bashful around you anymore, but he does now. “I’ll have to keep processing it. But in my unprofessional opinion, to my untrained, non-artistic eye, I’d say this is certifiably amazing work, sweetheart.”

You touch his cheek. “As long as you don’t feel like leaving me over it, you don’t have to say anything else.”

Felix takes your other hand and kisses the center of your palm, then each of your fingertips separately, then the ring between your knuckles.

Tomorrow, you’ll ask him for the story of how he happened to have it in his pocket tonight. Saturday, when Jisung sees it on your finger, you’ll ask his advice on how you should do your nails for the wedding (though you’ll probably end up having them done by your groom anyway). Next week, you’ll ask Felix what time of year he has in mind for the ceremony, or if he even wants to make a big pageantry of it. The week after that, you’ll either start looking into wedding venues or making an appointment with City Hall.

And years from now, when your children ask you about the portrait you painted of their father, you’ll tell them you did it because he was always your biggest supporter, and you’ll be reminded just how in love the two of you were tonight.

---

if you enjoyed, please consider re-blogging and/or leaving me some feedback. take care! ��

copyright © 2024 by daizymax. all rights reserved. back to masterlist

[belovedspector]

Written in the Stars

Pairing: Steven Grant x gn!reader (implied Marc Spector x gn!reader and Jake Lockley x gn!reader)

Word Count: 800

Summary: Steven doesn’t have a birthday. He takes the task of choosing one very seriously.

Content: Fluff, one use of a pet name (love)

A/N: This follows Leap Year, but it’s not necessary to read that first. I don’t know a ton about astrology, so I’m learning as I go. Enjoy! :)

Masterlist

“Here it is!” you say triumphantly, pulling a purple book off one of Steven’s lower shelves.

Steven takes the book in his hands gingerly, as if it’s something sacred. “Why do you have this, anyway?”

You shrug. “My college roommate was really into astrology and tried to get me interested, too. I just never got rid of it. It’s sentimental, I guess.”

Steven nods, already flipping through the pages as he makes his way to the couch. “So, what signs are Marc and Jake, again?” he asks, not looking up.

You join him on the couch. “Both Pisces, oddly enough,” you remark.

He hums. “Maybe I should be, too.” He quickly consults the table of contents before flipping to the page on Pisces. “‘Empathetic, imaginative, creative,’” he reads. He skims a few more pages before saying, “It’s all a bit vague, innit?”

You laugh. “I guess it is, yeah.”

“Well, you can turn on the telly or grab your own book, if you like. This will take me a bit to get through.”

You stare at him. “You’re not gonna read the whole thing, are you?”

He looks back at you, confused. “How else will I know what sign I am?”

“I don’t think it’s that serious,” you say. “Jake just picked a date he liked.”

Steven just shrugs. “I’d like to see what the book says, I think.”

“Alright,” you say with a shrug of your own. “Knock yourself out.” You scooch towards the other end of the couch, where your latest read is waiting on the end table. You turn on the lamp and settle in.

Steven’s a fast reader. In the time it takes you to slog through a few chapters, he’s closing the astrology book with a satisfying thump. “All done,” he announces.

You close your own book after marking your place with a bookmark (a slightly crumpled receipt counts as a bookmark, right?). “And? What’d you pick?”

“Virgo,” he says.

“Yeah?” you ask, interested. “Why’s that?”

Steven finds the appropriate page and reads, “‘Intelligent, analytical, hard-working.’” He looks to you, his confidence wavering. “That…sounds like me, right?”

You offer him a kind smile. “I think so, yeah. Did you pick a date?”

He shakes his head. “Not yet.” He briefly looks down again. “Says here I can do any day from the twenty-third of August to the twenty-second of September.”

You hum.

“Wait a second…” Steven trails off, grabbing his phone out of his pocket and typing something in.

“What?” you ask.

“Aha!” he says. “Twenty-fourth August. That’s what I want my birthday to be.”

“How come?”

“Tomb Buster premiered on that day in 1990. I reckon us Steven Grants should have the same birthday,” he explains with a grin.

You can’t help but match his smile. “August twenty-fourth it is, then. I’ll add it to my calendar.”

He closes the book again and hands it back to you. “Thank you for lending that to me, love.”

“Any time,” you say, taking the book and returning it to its spot on the bookshelf. You glance at the clock. “Ready to start on dinner?”

“Sounds good to me,” Steven says, standing up and following you to the kitchen.

After dinner has been taken care of and you’ve watched a movie, you’re in the bathroom getting ready for bed. You can hear Steven talking outside the door. You assume he’s conversing with his alters.

When you exit the bathroom, you see Steven standing at the fish tank, bottle of fish food in hand. He doesn’t seem to notice you as he continues on speaking. You realize he’s talking to the fish.

“Maybe I should’ve picked Pisces, Gus,” he muses.

Gus II and his two tank-mates, Tom and Jerry (named together by Marc and Jake, despite Steven’s protests), swim around in slow circles, seemingly waiting for Steven to feed them.

He shakes the bottle, watching the flakes drop gently into the water. “Then all three of us would be the same. And Pisces is fish, innit? It fits.”

“Steven!” you groan playfully. “You can’t just change your zodiac sign!”

“Why not?” he counters. “I just picked it today. There should be some sort of trial period, right?”

You snort. “Maybe, but I like the day you picked. It means something to you.”

“Alright, fine,” Steven says. He bids the fish good night before following you to the bed.

You settle in under the covers and say good night to one another. Your eyes are closed when you hear Steven ask into the darkness, “Do I get a cake for my birthday?”

You smile to yourself. “If you want one.”

“And presents?”

“Of course.”

It’s quiet for a moment. Then, “What about balloons?”

“Whatever you want, Steven,” you say fondly. “Whatever you want.”

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Please feel free to let me know what you think. :)

[eldritch-spouse]

Shags get obsessed with a girl that works at an art store where he gets his supplies. She's laid back and chit-chats with him about any projects he's working on.

[Okay but what if you had a really strange thing going on?]

You like this little freak.

Yeah, okay, that's a bit of a mean thing to say. But can you be blamed? There's no word that fits him more aptly than freak. Not even in the physical sense, there's a lot of variety in mushroom monsters, you know some of them can be tall and gangly like Shags. He's just bizarre.

The way he speaks, moves, conducts himself. You swear, not a single mannerism this monster makes feels natural or reflexive. Even the way he seems to intensely wait and make himself an obstacle until you initiate conversation with him... God, even the fucking topics of conversation, it's like he makes an effort to speak in riddles.

In this rather boring dead-end of a job, seeing this weirdo bend and squeeze through the doors like Samara about to crawl out of the TV is the highlight of your shift.

That's why he's your favorite client.

He's been standing still in the same supplies isle for too long, you already know what he wants.

" Having trouble finding something, Mr Shags? "

As if, he probably knows this store better than yourself.

In fact, he outright told you he used to be a client before you started working here.

He murmurs a response too quietly to interpret, forcing you to come closer. And, predictably, as soon as you are within grabbing distance (not hard to achieve when you're a lamppost of a monster featuring branch-like arms), a spider hand slithers onto your shoulder. It's cold, he's always a little cold.

You're urged in front of a shelf, his head looming over yours.

" Ahh, I need your honest opinion on something... If you don't mind? "

This is the paints section, a mural of hues that hurt the eyes.

" Sure. "

" What shade of orange do you think I should get? "

You love these questions. Because never once does he elaborate on what he's creating or why he wants you to choose. It's happened many times before. What size of canvas should I get? What pen should I get? What sketch books should I get?

You like the strange autonomy of getting to pick, offering him the same level of context he does to you.

Absolutely none.

" Alloy. " You point.

Shags reaches towards it with little effort, snagging several little containers with his root-like digits. The hand on your shoulders tightens.

" What a choice. Thank you very much, my dear. "

" No problem. "

It takes a bit of shifting before the hand on your skin is lifted.

You stroll back to the cash register with a small smile and occasionally observe the monster in the same way you'd study an animal at the zoo.

It's strange how little he moves sometimes. Initially, you thought it was just so he wouldn't drip ink everywhere, but it seems to be a part of him now. Blending in with all his other vaguely creepy mannerisms. Mr Shags gets all his items at a snail's torturous pace and finally, finally approaches you.

" How are the latest projects going, Mr Shags? " You start while scanning the paints first.

The shroom actually seems to frown for a second. Fingers busy on the balcony. " Not as smoothly as I wished... "

Tap tap tap.

" My latest muse and I, our chemistry, I'm afraid it has no substance. "

" Oh? " Your eyes deviate to his face for a moment.

" Yes... Something tells me it's time to move on. But I do want to honor our time together with one last, preserving piece. "

Tap tap tap.

" Mhm. Sounds good, I hope the next one works out. " Frankly, you're not sure what he's talking about, but you usually never are to begin with.

" Me too. " Then he smiles again, and you get the distinct feeling his stare has turned into a more scrutinizing one.

Far from the first time, it doesn't scare you like it did initially.

It's pretty funny, actually. You started out thinking this guy was some kind of loser looking to harass you, to intentionally make you uncomfortable. Nowadays he's more of an entertaining almost-friend.

Tap tap tap.

" Will that be all, Mr Shags? "

" Shags. "

He's told you to call him just by his name a couple of times. You always ignore it, but he keeps trying anyway.

There's a silent beat.

During your first years of work, the lack of action would have made you antsy enough to break the silence, which is what you know he wants you to do. But now, you have no trouble staring back placidly until he continues the conversation.

Apparently, the shroom enjoys that continuous challenge, because his grin widens slowly.

" You have a peculiar facial definition. " He eventually rasps.

A nothing statement, not quite a compliment, not quite an insult, definitely said to confuse and prompt a question. One you don't give him the satisfaction of hearing.

" Thanks. " The customer service smile has an edge of playful smarm this time.

Tap tap tap.

" ... I would enjoy sketching you sometime. Your facial expressions are intriguing. "

This is essentially his way of asking you out, you presume.

" You've drawn me before. "

He's even given you the pages, pencil depictions of you caught in a selection of moments. Mostly bored to tears and staring at the little universe between the cracks in aged walls.

Shags tuts. " It's quite different when the muse in question is part of the experience. I much prefer it that way. "

You can't help the hint of a snicker that tugs at the corners of your lips as you bag his items to hurry things along. Not that there's anyone else inside right now.

" Mm. And what if we don't have good chemistry? "

The shroom monster hands you his card, not even caring about hearing the total.

" I think we both know that wouldn't be the case. "

Tap tap tap.

It's only a few moments of intentionally creating suspense until you hand him all his new belongings and card.

" See you soon, Mr Shags. "

His grin only twitches for a delightful glimpse of a second before he carefully takes his possessions and leaves.

Playing with fire is fun.

One day, you'll get burned.

[russellsppttemplates]

Herve, Amelie and Thomas all pitching in together with their allowance to get Charles the latest watch he's been looking at for his birthday!

"Do you have any idea for papa's birthday present?", you asked the kids, genuinely wanting their opinion on the matter. Charles had the possibility to buy himself something he liked, often he was gifted things he liked from the sponsors and brand s he worked with, and while having known him since you were kids was great because you knew his taste better than anyone, it was also meant that you had gifted him every possible type of present known to mankind.

"We saw him looking at a watch the other day", Hervé pointed out, making you think about it for a second. You gifted him a watch for his twenty-first birthday, so it seemed okay to gift him another one since a few years had passed by.

"I think I know which one it is if I look at it", Amélie offered, browsing the website on her iPad until she found the right one, "we also saw it in a shop by grand-mère's house, the one where I got my ears pierced", she informed, scrolling until she found the accessory. "It's this one, yes", Thomas confirmed, pointing at the screen.

"Good job, guys, thanks!", you cheered, "I'll see when I can go to the shop and buy it, maybe tomorrow", you smiled, kissing each kid's head sweetly.

Because Charles would only get home later that night just in time for dinner, you saved some time of your morning to go to the shop, telling the kids as much so they knew where you were headed, "before you go, mama, we have something to help you", Hervé said, getting up and heading to his room before he came back, "myself, Thomas and Amélie what to pitch in for papa's present, here's our contribution", he said, handing you and envelope with some money inside, "we really want to do it, mama", he defended himself and his siblings.

When Thomas gave Charles his present, he immediately blushed and gasped in awe, "how did you guys know I wanted this one? Thank you, mes amours", he smiled, pulling all three children into his embrace, or as much as he could since that now that they had grown up, it was harder to get them all in one place.

When you all retired to your bedrooms, you couldn't help but gush in pride of your kids, "you know, they all pitched in with their pocket money", you said as Charles placed the new watch on his bedside table, "really? Wow", he said, remembering the time Amélie followed Thomas around the house for the whole afternoon until he gave her the change of the ice cream she had lent him money for.

"They insisted they wanted to help and they were so happy with that", you said, patting the spot next to you on the bed so he could lay down and then you could lay on top of his chest, "we did good with them, didn't we?", he mused, "We did, amour", you smiled, kissing his chest.

(Thank you for submitting an ask ✨️)

[neteyamsyawntu]

Kinktober 06

B l i n d f o l d e d

Neteyam x Na’vi!Reader

✨Friendly Disclaimer: The content of this story contains aged-up characters! If this is something that makes you uncomfortable, please feel free to click or scroll away. The last thing I want is for anyone to read something they are uncomfortable with, however if you decide to interact with any negativity, you will be blocked from my blog as a result.

Warnings: 🔞MINORS DNI🔞, vulgar language, dirty talk, P in V, lubed up/oily Neteyam, blindfold play, stimulation, dom!reader, needy!Nete

It was late in the afternoon when you found yourself sat with your legs crossed in the center of your marui, hands busy with your latest concoction of lotion. While you found that you were a skilled healer, you often experimented with alternative uses for specific plants. One of which included a warming sort of lubricant. This had been your second time making this recipe and you felt as if you had finally mastered it. Just as you had released a sigh of satisfaction with your work, your ears flick to the sound of your tent flap opening to reveal your mate, muscles taut and many dark bruises littered his body. “Ma’Teyam you look exhausted, my love.” You coo shifting your position to sit on your knees as Neteyam plops down loudly beside you with a thump, “If Lo’ak does not master this combat maneuver soon, I will kill that skxawng myself.” He huffed, wiping the sweat off his brow bone with the back of his hand. A small giggle softly echoes through the hut as you place yourself slightly behind him, setting your hands on either one of his shoulders, gently applying pressure to the obviously overworked muscles. Your smile stretches slightly when Neteyam releases a strained groan at the sensation, starting to feel the exhaustion hit his body now that he was sat and finally allowed to rest. 

“I’m sure it will not come to that.” you purr, leaning forward to place a tender kiss against his temple, your mind suddenly sparking with the perfect way to test your new recipe. “Why don’t I take care of you tonight? Help you ease your muscles?” You ask sweetly as you continue to gently knead at his stiff shoulders, a soft hum rumbles from Neteyam’s chest as he contemplates your offer, before taking hold of one of your hands, and bringing it to his lips, “You are too good to me, ma’muntxate.”. His response sends a warmth through your chest as you look at him endearingly, gently moving away from him as you set out a couple soft pelts on the floor for him to lay down on comfortably. “You know the drill” you muse, kneeling down beside the pelts, leaving an open space for him as you set the bowl of thick oil beside you. Neteyam smiles, giving his own amused chuckle, leaning in to place a soft kiss on your lips, “Thank you, yawne.” He purrs before carefully moving to lay on his stomach, laying flat with his arms to his sides. “Mhm… I just hope Lo’ak looks as bad as you do.” This triggers a stronger chuckle from your mate which quickly transitions into a tired sigh, “Yes, he is just as frustrated as I am at this point.”. 

Adjusting your position, you carefully settle yourself behind him to straddle his thighs, draping his tail over your thigh to keep it out of the way, before leaning into forward to move his braids and kuru from off of his shoulders. Just as you are about to dip your fingers into the liquidity substance you pause for a moment as a fascinating thought streams into your mind. Before long you are lifting yourself from your positions, fetching a thick strip of spare fabric from one of your latest weaving projects. Neteyam raises his head to watch you as you crouch down in front of him with the object in hand, “What is that for?”, “I was just thinking this may help clear your mind… help you focus on the massage and keep those other pesky thoughts out of your head.” Neteyam looked skeptical for a moment, but ultimately agreed, having a hard time saying no to you. With a victorious smile you carefully place the fabric over his eyes, wrapping it around the back of his head and typing it securely. “I can’t see anything, yawne… I’m… not sure how this is supposed to help.”, “Trust me, Nete, it’ll help.”. You say as you lift a finger under his chin to arch his neck further back, not being able to help thinking how vulnerable he looked like this. Soon enough you are moving back to your previous position on the back of his thighs, your hands slipping down to the strings of his loincloth, skillfully loosening the knot to slip the garment from under his body, “Wouldn’t want to stain this now would we?”.

Finally you submerge your fingers into the bowl of lubricant, scooping out a generous amount. With your clean hand you allow your fingertips to ever so slightly drag along the length of his spine, your ears perking when Neteyam slightly jumps at the sudden touch, his senses now heightened with the loss of his sight. Starting on his shoulders you lather the clear substance all over the length of his back, being sure to take your time working it into each tight muscle. With his backside glistening in the dim light of your marui, you begin with Neteyam’s lower back, rolling your knuckles into the space just above the base of his tail. Muffled groans emerging from your mate as you had more and more pressure working the tautness out of his back as you progressively move your way up his spine. “Does that feel nice, ma’muntxatan?” You hum watching as Neteyam practically melts under your touch, “Mmm~” He moans in response, nuzzling his face into the soft pelts below him. You begin a simple pattern of rolling your palms against his back in repetitive motions, with just enough pressure to make his tail reflexively curl around your thigh. As if his own body heat had transferred to your own, you could feel the heat slowly creeping up to your cheeks as his pleasured and satisfied noises send a flurry of butterflies to your stomach. 

You can’t help, but feel slightly embarrassed by the fact that you were getting turned on from just his voice alone, yet you weren’t in the slightest surprised by this outcome. Absentmindedly you begin rolling your pelvis against his rear ever so slightly in efforts to feel a bit of friction from sitting on his thighs, disguising it as a simple move of your body as you rubbed his back. Neteyam could tell there was a difference in your body language however, yet made no moves to question or stop you. Instead his tail swiped across your thigh loveling, letting his moans slip more freely. You could feel your body getting hotter and hotter by the second, graciously drinking in the view of him all lathered up and slippery, a flurrying sensation flowed through your body, directly to your core. You needed more of him.

“Turn over for me, love.” You instruct in a sweet, soothing tone to which your mate eagerly complys, carefully rolling onto his back beneath your straddling legs. Your eyes trail over his bare chest, his body seeming more relaxed than it was prior to you starting your treatment. Your gaze then lands on his hardened cock. Of course you weren’t surprised that something like this would arouse your mate, but it was taking your better judgment to stay focused and work on his sore muscles first. Collecting another dose of the lubricant on your fingers, you attentively spread the substance along his chest, using both hands to get an even coating, watching as his lips slightly parted at the contact. As your fingers gently trace down his pectorals, his back arches slightly when the tips of your fingers run over his nipples. With your tail now flicking curiously, you can’t help, but repeat the action, letting your lubricated fingers run upwards to graze his nipples once again, now earning a hitched breath from your blindfolded mate. Trying your best to hold in your soft giggle, you return to the task at hand, letting your fingers move downward, moistening his abs with the lubricant, a sigh of relief leaving Neteyam’s lips as you massage his sides. Again you find yourself distracted as his cock lays proudly across his lower abdomen. With your hands still decently moist you trail your fingers down his pelvis, cautiously rubbing your fingers around the base of his cock, not quite touching it, but getting close enough for it to twitch in anticipation, as if his body were begging for it, “My mate, I know when you are teasing me. Please, let me feel you.” He whispers hoarsely as his chest begins to rise and fall a bit faster with the increased beating of his heart. “Relax my love, I told you I’d take care of you, didn’t I?” You muse, finally moving your hands to cup the base of his cock, spreading the warm oil along his shaft. 

Another sigh of relief, although this time shifting into a broken moan as you begin to slowly work the lotion into his erection. You gaze with desire as his cock now glistens in the light, looking all the more appealing. Looking up to take a peek at Neteyam’s face, you can’t help, but absentmindedly clench around nothing, seeing how his face is directed toward the ceiling of the marui, mouth hung open, while his sleek chest rises and falls, anticipation coursing through his veins, now bringing his hands up to gently grip into your thighs. “Yawne, please… I need you.” He manages to whimper, his cock twitching needily in your hand as you start to stroke him at a faster pace. “You know you are going to have to tell me what you want, Teyam.” You coo in a sweet voice, admittedly taking joy in watching him struggle.

 “You know what I want, yawne…” he says through his moans, sliding his hands up to your hips to pull you forward on his lap so that your mons is just pressing against his standing erection, “I need to be in you, please. Before I take off this foolish blindfold and take it for myself.”. You bite your lip at your mate’s eagerness, letting out a soft giggle as you lift your hips, slowly crawling over his form to capture his lips with your own. He is caught off guard at first, but then eagerly welcomes it with his own hungry pursuit of your mouth with his tongue, yet you pull away before he can get too worked up, “You know I love hearing you beg, Muntxatan~.” You mewl teasingly, as you align your moist pussy lips with the head of his cock before very slowly lowering yourself onto him. His grip on your hips immediately tightens, head falling back to create an attractive arch in his neck, “Ahh fuuuck…” he groans as the tightness of your walls eagerly suck him into you. Your own eyes flutter closed for a moment as you sink lower and lower onto him until you are sitting flush against his lap, mushroomy tip pressing against your cervix lovingly. It was times like this, when the two of you took your intimacy slow, that you were truly able to appreciate the girth and length of his cock, feeling a satisfying stretch even with the help of the lubricant. 

Biting down on his bottom lip, Neteyam greedily starts to move your hips back and forth, causing you to place both of you hands on his chest, in fear you may keel over from the assertiveness of his movements. “Yes… feels so good, my yawne. Fuck I needed this…” he moans, chest heaving as starts to slowly thrust up into you, milking every second of being this deep inside of you. Your body now felt completely hot, knowing full well that if you caught a glimpse of your reflection somewhere, your face would be painted in the heaviest blush. Carefully moving your hands along his moist chest, your fingertips find their way to his nipples once more, now tweaking and rolling them beneath to pads of your fingers with more passion. “Mmm!~” he whimpers, arching his back at the sensation, simultaneously digging his own fingers into the flesh of your hips harder, the bucking of his hips following suit. 

Your moans echo beautifully in Neteyam’s ears, his own face contorting in pleasure as he can just imagine what your face looks like in this moment, “My yawne, take this off of me. I want to see your face when I fuck you like this.” He groans, bucking his hips harder at the word. Leaning back, you place your hands on his legs, now rolling your hips to meet your mate’s hungry thrusts, “Mmm, but you look so breedable like this, my love~. So cute and submissive.”. The comment makes your mate blush from under his blindfold, ears folding back, taken a back for a brief moment by the bold comment. “Breedable hm? Are you sure that’s not what you are, my muntxate?” He quips back with another hard thrust into your leaking cunt, hitting exactly where you needed him to. His ears perk at the sound of your passionate cry, a smirk growing on his lips as he repeats the action again, “Ohhh, Teyam- fuck!”. You merely hear a confident chuckle in response, a hand lifting from your hips to push his blindfold from off of his eyes, finally able to drink in your look of utter arousal; eyes closed, head rolled back, mouth open as lewd moans cascade from your vocal cords, “Mmmng, you look so pretty on my cock, yawne.” He purrs before his eyes drift over to the bowl of oil beside him, acting on instinct he dips his fingers into the substance himself, bringing his hand to your breast, and spreading it all along your torso.

You shiver at the sudden sensation, yet allow him to continue as he brings his slippery hand down between your pelvises, letting his thumb roll the liquid over your erect clit, coaxing out another shiver as Neteyam starts a familiar pattern of rubbing your clit in tight circles, moving and pulling the bundle of nerves in every which way to get the best reaction out of you. When pulled at a certain angle your body reflexively clenches tightly around his cock, earning a gravely moan from your mate, “Ahh… you're so tight, my love. Are you going to cum already?” He purrs, sitting up to wrap an arm around your backside, pulling your slippery bodies against one another, bending his knees slightly to better bounce you on his lap with loud, wet smacks as your arousal creates a sticky pool on Neteyam’s lap. You nod in response, nuzzling your nose against his own, letting out more and more desperate whines the closer you get. “That’s it, yawne… let go for your mate.” He whispers breathily, eyes closing, brows knitting together as he feels his own release toeing closer. 

In an almost euphoric scream, your juices are flooding around his cock, the new warmth fueling his own release as both of his arms encased around you to hold you close to him as spurts of cum shoot into your cunt. Panting in each others air you both sleepily gaze into one another’s eyes. Neteyam breathily chuckles before letting out a strained groan, “I think my muscles need a bit more rubbing, if you don’t mind, yawne.”, “Of course my love, lay back for me.” You coo pressing a tender kiss on his nose, before urging him to lay back with a gentle palm. “No funny business this time. I feel like my body may break if we got too carried away again.” 

You merely giggle, following him down to the floor with a mischievous smirk on your face, holding eye contact as you dip your fingers into the oil once again, “And what would be the fun in that?”.

Tag list: @pandoraslxna @dvxsja @jakexneytiri @blue-slxt @neteyamsoare@tiredmamaissy, @neteyamsikran @oceanstar19 @hadesbabygurl @xylianasblog @neteyamssyulang @anonymousailurophile @netyamstruelove @eyrina-avatar @justcaptiannoodles @teymars @neteyamyanw3 @eyweveng

[whipped-for-kpop-fics]

X Marks the Spot - K.SY

🏴‍☠️Who; Kwon Soonyoung (Seventeen) x female reader 🏴‍☠️What; Humour. Bestfriends to lovers. I guess some tiny fluff? Adult themes. 🏴‍☠️Wordcount; 5.8k 🏴‍☠️Warnings; Profanity. Party typical alcohol mentions but neither SY nor reader are drinking. Kind of jealous/possessive Soonyoung. Making out in public places. The whole point of this story is Soonyoung in a costume marketed for women, so if that's not your vibe then this story is not for you, friend.

Although there isn't any smut, this is definitely an 18+ fic so Minors do NOT interact. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in the bio.

Summary; You stupidly left the job of buying your costumes for the party down to Soonyoung, and now you're paying for it and have to spend the night watching him dancing in those little shorts initially intended for you.

-2024 Masterlist-

A/N; this is all because I can't get the thought of Soonyoung in the pirate outfit from my "Sexy costumes for Seventeen to wear" post out of my head. made myself feral with that one.

Completely out of the blue last week, Seungkwan decided to send a message in the group chat that he's throwing a costume party. No reason for it, nothing had happened to warrant a party, he had simply decided he wanted to do it and demanded the entire group be there and in costume.

Soonyoung had, unsurprisingly, already been by your side on our couch watching the latest episode of the drama you two were obsessed with, when the message came through. After the episode you both looked at your phones and Soonyoung immediately started to look for costume ideas excitedly. He soon found and fell in love with a pirate outfit and after showing you it, he said it's part of a couple costume and as besties, you have to match because 'that's what besties do'. In the year you have known Soonyoung, you have never truly said no to him and this was no different.

Though perhaps you should've at least looked at the female half of the matching costume before agreeing instead of blindly trusting your best friend.

Which leads us to here. It's an hour before the party is due to start and Soonyoung has just turned up at your apartment to get ready together just like always. He has the parcel of costumes in his arms and a bright excited grin on his face when he hands it over to you to allow him to remove his shoes.

"I haven't opened it yet," He informs, watching you walk over to the couch to lean the parcel against the arm and open it like you knew he wanted you to. Soonyoung knows you get an odd sense of joy from opening parcels whether or not they're for you so he often brings his orders over or invites you to his apartment to allow you to open them for him.

"So I see," You muse with a little giggle.

Soonyoung appears at your back a moment later, leaning his chin on your shoulder to peer into the bag as you open it. The first costume out is his, packaged in another bag though this is clear revealing the cardboard insert with a picture of a man in the costume on the front. He takes it happily when you offer it and bounces aside to start to open it excitedly.

There's only one more item in the bag, your costume so you take it out, excited about your matching pirate outfits too. Up until you turn the packet over to look at the picture and realise that this truly is not what you expected, especially not from your best friend.

"What the actual fuck, Kwon Soonyoung?!" You demand flabbergasted.

"Uh-oh, the full name," Soonyoung looks up at you in alarm, all sign of joy gone. "Did they send the wrong thing?"

"I hope so because if you saw this on the site and still ordered it, you and I are going to have some issues." You turn the packet to show him the picture on the cardboard insert. A picture of a woman in a tiny pair of high-waisted shorts, if they could even be considered that with fishnet tights underneath. There's an attempt at a white top that honestly could be a lot worse, it's off the shoulder and cropped but it's honestly not as bad as it could be for a female-focused costume, but still far too revealing for your liking. To finish it off, she's wearing a striped bandana on her head with a plastic sword in her hands and you're very certain that the sword alone is the only reason the packet is that big because there's certainly not enough material creating the costume to require such a size bag.

Soonyoung stares at the picture for a second then looks up at you with a confused little pout. "It's a pirate outfit."

"Show me yours," You demand with a sigh. He doesn't hesitate to move over and hand you his costume, still in the packet just about.

There's a clear difference in costumes. The picture on his packet depicts a man in three-quarter length vertically striped trousers and a simple white shirt with an open neckline revealing a thin triangular strip of skin down to his sternum, finished with the same bandana as your costume and a plastic sword. Though, of course, the man's sword is bigger than the woman's sword. Of course, the men get the big boy sword and the women get the toothpick.

"You seriously don't see a problem with this?" You ask, holding the two packets up side by side so that he can see the photos together. Poor, naive Soonyoung looks between the pictures rapidly in a desperate attempt to understand. Yet he winds up just shaking his head as he looks at you with such an innocent expression that you know that he seriously doesn't understand the problem here at all. "Then you can wear this one." You declare, handing him the woman's outfit before turning to stalk off to your bedroom.

"What?!" He sputters, scrambling to follow you down the short corridor. "This is for women!"

"You've said before, clothes have no gender!" You remind, turning at the threshold with a hand on your open door ready to close it and a sweet smile on your face. "If you want to match with me, Soonyoungie, you wear that and I'll wear this."

He stares between you and the packet in his hand for a moment before agreeing with a nod and a simple "okay".

And that right there, is your second mistake.

When you had told Soonyoung to wear that outfit, you really had not been prepared for how fucking good he'd look in the skimpy little outfit. So now you have to spend the next hours at Seungkwan's bustling apartment pretending that your gaze isn't constantly locating Soonyoung in the dim lighting as he happily dances amongst other costumed bodies.

Sure, you've seen Soonyoung topless before so you know the man has a frankly incredible body usually hidden under the baggy clothes he usually prefers to wear, but the sexy little pirate outfit highlights his strong torso and biceps so well. The cropped top stops at his sternum giving full view of the top half of his defined abs, the bottom half hidden by the high waist of the shorts. And those shorts? They really do not leave a lot to the imagination at all so Soonyoung has spent the entire night so far carefully doing his best to keep the sword strapped around his hips dangling in front of his crotch. You had obligingly given him the bigger sword when you had realised that the 'woman's' sword wasn't exactly wide enough to cover him. Neither of you had made eye contact when you had handed it over without a word because you both knew what it meant and the fact you had obviously seen the bulge of his flaccid dick in the tight shorts.

Which honestly, had only made you wonder how big he was hard, and that was a thought that you usually try to avoid; thinking of your best friend in a sexual situation. Though his pure existence alone makes it very hard.

Kwon Soonyoung doesn't realise how attractive he is and you're kind of grateful about it. Because if that unfairly effortlessly attractive man knows how hot he is, then you know he'll be cocky and dress to show off more often than just for nights out or special occasions, and you would not mentally survive that.

As it is, you're not sure you'll survive the night.

"One day, you two are going to stop being stupid and just fuck it out," Chan comments from your right where he stands in his doctor's outfit; Seungkwan's wearing a matching one somewhere else in the apartment and you really can't tell if it's intentional or not with those two. They're always bickering and acting like they hate each other but they're always the first the other goes to for any reason whatsoever.

"Please make it before the end of summer so I don't lose money," Seungcheol requests from your left, leaning against the wall with you and dressed in a suit just like his own best friend and roommate, wherever she has disappeared to. She's likely with Junhui based on the way the pair have been eyeing each other for the past hour -and since they met really but that's another story entirely.

"You assholes have bets on us fucking?" You gawp in betrayed disbelief at the suited man.

"Yup," Seungcheol confirms shamelessly while Chan tries to sputter out a denial that makes you level the youngest with an unimpressed look. However, it doesn't last because you hear Soonyoung's loud voice even over the music and automatically look over to where your best friend is trying to stop Seokmin from grabbing at his sword. No euphemism even if the plastic is in the right place. "Looks like Seok's going to get further with your boy than you ever have." Seungcheol sniggers. You shove his arm making him laugh harder.

"Swordplay," Chan giggles then wanders off without another word to refill his cup after swallowing the last of its contents.

"Seriously though, you should like, go fuck him," Seungcheol speaks a moment later when Soonyoung has successfully distracted Seokmin by grabbing the younger's hands to make him dance with him. Soonyoung shoots you a world-weary, wide-eyed look that makes you snicker and wave innocently at him.

"You really don't want to lose money, huh."

"It's not even about that, just you two. This has been going on for over a year now; this gross pining shit. Just sit on his dick and ask him on a date, it's not that hard."

"You can't say shit, Cheol."

"Hey, I've fucked her, regularly," he defends with a pout before sipping at his drink.

"Oh yeah, because fucking your best friend who you've been in love with since childhood while encouraging her to go after your friend who she's been mutually eyefucking for the past three months is so much better." You retort sarcastically and give him a look. He can't refute it at all, it's entirely true and he's confided in you enough for you both to know that he's constantly making his own heartbreak worse by continuing to indulge his best friend both in bed and when she comes home and whines over how good Junhui looks.

"We're as bad as each other," he decides after a second.

"Don't lump me with you, I've never fucked him." You scoff and turn back around to naturally locate Soonyoung where he's back to smiling away as he dances with Seokmin and some others.

"You want to,"

"Yeah, I really fucking do," you exhale and swallow down the last of your drink only to frown down into the empty disposable cup. "I need a real drink."

"You know you can't drink around him like this or you will ask to suck his dick." Seungcheol reminds you of the very reason why you're always the designated driver when Soonyoung dresses up.

Because yes, you have come close to getting on your knees in the middle of a club for him. Luckily, Seungcheol had noticed and took you home before you actually acted on the urge to publicly defile your best friend. Unluckily, Seungcheol had noticed and has not failed to mention it at every chance. But at least it's stayed between the two of you.

"At this rate, I'll do it regardless," you mutter, still frowning into your empty cup. "Back in a bit." Seungcheol just grunts to show he heard before you slump off to the kitchen to refill your cup with one of the non-alcoholic beverages lining the counter.

You've barely finished filling your cup when a familiar hand reaches around you and picks it up to start gulping down. Even though you know it's Soonyoung, you still look over your right shoulder where he's chugging down the drink entirely unaware of your thirsty gaze watching the drop of liquid that escapes from the corner of his mouth trail down over his chin and jaw and down his neck to catch on his collar bone. You refrain from leaning in to slurp it up and lick your way up the trail it left all the way to Soonyoung's mouth.

Instead of staring at the way his throat bobs as he swallows down the last drops, you turn back around and wait for him to place the cup down so that you can refill it. And then he grabs it again before you can, making you groan. "Seriously?"

"M'thirsty," he defends barely pulling the cup away and accidentally dribbling some of the liquid from his mouth onto your shoulder. You look at him in disgust. He just grins sweetly and kisses your cheek in a sticky apologetic way before leaning back up to get back to his task of once again, stealing your drink.

At least this time when you've refilled the cup, he doesn't steal it away and lets you actually lift it to your own mouth. You can feel his eyes on you as you drink so you side-eye him questioningly without moving the cup away.

"Are you taking Seungcheol home again?" He asks, stepping closer to you as someone passes too close behind him, his left hand falling to your hip and his right on the counter, sort of caging you in though you know it's unintentional even if you wish it wasn't.

"He can take himself home, he's not drinking tonight," you reply, distracted by the feeling of plastic pressing against you. "Your sword is digging into my ass."

Soonyoung lets go of the counter to tug his sword belt around and lays the toy on the outside of his left thigh leaving him pressed directly against you. You genuinely can't tell if he's even noticed that as he seems to be focused on the conversation judging by the concentrated furrow of his eyebrows. "That's not what I mean and you know it."

"If I know it, wouldn't I respond to what you mean?" You give him a look, puzzled by his own words and hoping he understands that you seem to very much not be having the same conversation here and you are completely unaware of the conversation he's having with you.

"Not when you're both pretending nothing's happening,"

"What?" You nudge him back enough so that you can turn and face him, which admittedly, is not your smartest move when he moves straight back in. He doesn't press against you again but his left foot is between yours as you lean your ass back against the counter. Any closer and his thigh will be very close to pressing to your crotch.

"Come on, I'm your best friend, I think you should at least be honest with me, even if you play ignorant with the others," he frowns and leans heavier onto his right hand on the counter beside your hip, bringing him in closer so that he doesn't have to talk so loudly to be heard over the music. "You two often leave together when we go out. And even though his place is closer than mine, you drop me off first so it's just you two left. I'm not stupid."

"Wait, you think that's so we can go fuck?" You realise with wide eyes.

"It's obvious, you always find each other when we're all together like this and spend the whole fucking night hiding off to the side whispering to each other,"

You can't help but laugh. "Do you all think we're fucking?" He nods. You laugh again. "Oh man, I gotta tell Cheolie this," you start to push off of the counter with every intention of going to find the man knowing he will find it as hilarious as you do, but Soonyoung puts his left hand on your lower stomach to push you back and then he pushes himself against you to pin you there. "Soonyoung,"

"No."

"What? No? No what?"

"I'm not letting you go back to him. You came with me, you're staying with me and leaving with me, no one else." He declares firmly.

You stare up at him trying to decipher what the fuck is actually going on right now, what prompted this sudden conversation and behaviour. Not that Soonyoung has never pinned you before but it's usually playfully as he whines and pouts cutely to get his way, or to just joke around. But he's entirely serious now and looking at you with something kind of dark in his eyes. Admittedly, it's pretty fucking hot. "Are you drunk?" You ask, even if you know he's not; you can't smell any alcohol on him and drunk Soonyoung gets cuddly and clingy, not whatever this is.

"You know I'm not," he places his left hand on the counter on your other side, well and truly caging you in and causing him to lean down a little closer to reach comfortably.

"Then why are you suddenly acting like this?"

"It's not sudden." You give him a look. "Okay, fine, acting on it is but wanting to, that's not sudden. I've wanted to do this for a long time,"

"Then why haven't you?"

"Because I care about you too much," he frowns a little as he takes in your features from up close, gaze catching on your lips for a few seconds before lifting back up to meet your eyes. "There's a bet you know, about us fucking?"

"I just found out." You pull a displeased expression. "Cheol's in on that, you know? He wouldn't bet on us fucking before the end of summer if he's fucking me."

"He is?" He raises his eyebrows in surprise. "They made it sound like he's against the bet, said he's been trying to stop them from always talking me into it,"

"Yeah, no, he just told me to fuck you. He's always telling me to fuck you."

"Oh," He licks his lips as his eyes divert thoughtfully. "Guess I should stop being a dick to him then,"

"You've been a dick to him?" You ask, genuinely surprised. You really haven't noticed Soonyoung acting badly towards Seungcheol at all.

"Mm, I always take his favourite snacks at movie night." You can't help but burst into giggling laughter at his confession.

Of course, the man doesn't have a single genuinely mean bone in his body and would think purposely taking someone's favourite snacks would be a big dick move. You bet he's been feeling kind of guilty about it while no doubt Seungcheol hasn't even noticed.

"What? Why're you laughing?" He pouts at you.

"Oh, Soonie, you're so fucking cute," you coo and cup his cheeks fondly. He smiles a little dopily at the compliment, the same smile he reserves for you and your doting attention on him even if neither of you has noticed that. The rest of your friends have though.

"Nice ass," You hear before Soonyoung's hips jerk into you when he yelps and tries to escape the slap that landed on his ass.

"Hyung!" He complains, looking over his shoulder to pout at Jeonghan as the man appears from behind your best friend.

You really can't tell exactly what Jeonghan is supposed to be, you think it's some kind of anime character, or something kinky. Maybe both. Either way, his costume is a strange mix of faux black leather and shimmery red lacey wings. And he pulls it off unfairly well considering that you know he hadn't been prepared for the party that morning at all.

"What? Don't look at me like I'm disturbing something," Jeonghan scoffs, reaching around you to grab the same big plastic bottle you had been filling your cup from. Though he stops and looks at the way Soonyoung is very much pressed against you. Jeonghan grins after noticing that Soonyoung's crotch is definitely smushed against your upper thigh; something you have been doing your best to ignore yourself because yes you can feel everything through the thin material covering you both. "Or maybe I am." He smirks at you both.

"What are you supposed to be exactly?" You ask in an attempt to change the topic to one that won't kill your last remaining dregs of sanity. Then again, with the things that come out of Yoon Jeonghan's mouth, you could still be rendered insane but for a reason other than feeling your best friend's dick pressed against you.

"No idea just grabbed some shit from Hao's costume closet." Jeonghan shrugs as he looks down at himself. "Kind of think this might be less about his costume designing and more about sex though."

"He's definitely worn that harness while fucking someone." You agree and reach out to hook your finger over the thick horizontal strap over Jeonghan's chest. You're pretty sure it's directly over his nipples, but the slightly sheer tank top he's wearing underneath the harness kind of obscures your view enough that you don't have confirmation.

"Mm, definitely." Jeonghan agrees and smirks at you. "Want to take it home yourself?"

"And take it from you? I wouldn't dare, you look so handsome, Hannie," You coo, playing along with the flirty banter you two have always partaken in. Not because anything has ever happened between you nor will it, you've discussed it plenty of times to make sure you're both on the same page still. But it's just fun to harmlessly flirt.

"Never said I won't be wearing it," he licks his lips and gives you a suggestive look.

"You're not going home with her," Soonyoung argues firmly, crowding up against you further though his gaze is on Jeonghan in warning, so he misses the way your eyes widen and dart down to where Soonyoung is now pressing his crotch against your hip, his own thigh pressing up between your thighs. Jeonghan doesn't miss it though and cackles, taking the bottle and his cup away entirely without another word.

"S-soonyoung," You stammer, hands fluttering at his sides, wanting to push him back for your sanity but you think putting your hands on his exposed skin will just make you pull him closer.

"Do you have to flirt with him all the time?" He frowns at you, entirely unaware of the screaming in your mind, mostly just sounds with the odd yell of the word penis. He'd probably laugh if he heard it, to be honest, just because of the word penis. He wouldn't even realise it's his penis you're mentally screaming about. "And when I'm right here too. Did you forget I'm here or something?"

"No," You choke out.

"Then why- are you okay?" He suddenly realises how wide your eyes are.

"I can feel your dick," You blurt, unable to think of anything else.

He blinks at you for a moment then looks down at where he's pressed against you as if he hasn't even noticed until now. "Oh," he pulls his hips back and his thigh from between yours making you let out a heavy shaky exhale as your body relaxes a little. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"Ha, not the word I'd use."

"What word would you use?" If he was any other man, you'd say the little quirk of his head and innocent eyes locked onto you is fake, just some kind of game, a way to flirt. But it's Soonyoung and you've seen this man miss the most obvious of flirtations since you've known him; the amount of times you or the guys have had to bluntly tell him that someone had been trying to take him home to fuck is frankly absurd. "Stop touching my ass!" His sudden exclamation makes you jump a little while he looks over his shoulder in annoyance, glaring at Seungkwan who's giving him an innocent look.

"I'm very happy that you two are finally doing something about your consistent sexual tension and mutual pining but take it out of my kitchen, please. I don't want to have to burn my home down if you defile my counters." The younger man speaks bluntly with a slightly sweet edge to his words. You can't even see him but you just know that he's got that too sweet smile on his face that always feels more threatening than anything.

"What?" Soonyoung blinks at him, the annoyance of his ass being grabbed melting away. "We're not doing anything."

"Hannie told me you're being possessive and we all know that she likes that so-"

"Hey!" You exclaim offendedly, not because you can argue it, but just more that you're being talked about like you're not there. "She has a name!"

"Well take hyung home and he can moan it for the neighbours to hear." Seungkwan gives you that sweet-threatening smile as he leans around Soonyoung to meet your gaze. "My neighbours don't want to hear it."

"My neighbours won't hear that," you scoff. Soonyoung can't help but frown, he feels like he's just been rejected even though he hadn't even gotten to the point of actually asking to take you home and fuck you like he wants to, like your mutual friends had convinced him you want him to. But your firm dismissal of Seungkwan's words sounds like you putting that boundary securely in place before he can even ask to tumble over it into your arms.

"He's loud-" Seungkwan starts to point out but you're not done talking even if you had taken a quick scoff break.

"I don't live in a cheap-ass building with paper for walls like you do, Kwannie." You finish.

Both men stare at you for a second, Seungkwan at first just blinks in surprise at the fact you're not even disputing the Soonyoung moaning your name part, just whether or not your neighbours will hear. And Soonyoung is full-on gawping at you, mouth open and eyes wide, wondering if this means that boundary even exists between you.

"Does that mean you won't get a noise complaint? Hyung is pretty loud, you know? There's a reason we don't live together anymore."

"I don't know." You reply with a shrug.

"Then go fucking home already and stop humping against my kitchen counter!" Seungkwan grabs Soonyoung by his hips to yank him backwards away from you while the scantily dressed pirate yelps and flails a little at the unexpected action. Then he's shoved towards the kitchen exit while Seungkwan grabs your wrist to tug you along.

You're both too genuinely dumbstruck by Seungkwan's sudden forceful actions to do anything but stumble along until you're both outside of the apartment, shoes in hands and staring in shock at the door that's just been shut in your faces.

"Did we just get kicked out?" You mutter.

Soonyoung nods slowly and then looks at you. "I think we got kicked out for sex."

"Is it still sexile if you're the ones getting kicked out and told to go elsewhere to fuck?" You muse, attention down as you focus on shoving your feet into your shoes, one hand on the wall behind you and the other out in the air pointlessly.

"Uh, reverse sexile?" He offers, dropping his shoes to shove his feet into.

"Sounds like a sex position."

He laughs. "What would that even look like?"

"No idea." You grin at him then figure that well, it seems like you've both been outed enough already seeing as all of your friends have stopped hiding the fact that they expect you to finally have sex, which really implies a mutual attraction. So you suck your bottom lip into your mouth for a second as he frowns down at his shoe that just will not accept his right foot for some reason. "Shall we go find out?"

Immediately, Soonyoung looks up at you with wide eyes. "What?"

"Shall we go find out what reverse sexile looks like?"

"Like…us?"

"Yeah, Soonyoung, us," You confirm with an amused twitch of your lips. "You said you're the only one to go home with me, right?" He nods. "Then let's go home and find out, Young-ah."

"Ye-no, wait." He steps closer and takes your hand gently before you can start walking down the hall to the staircase. His fingers are barely holding onto your own. It's perhaps the most cautious he's ever taken your hand into his. Even the very first time he had boldly laced your fingers together and you had only met ten minutes previously.

"No?" You ask, feeling really kind of stupid all of a sudden. You had been so unusually confident in asking him to go home and fuck you.

"Not because I don't want to because I do seriously, I really want to fuck you." He breathes out, sounding rather affected by the thought alone as he stares at you longingly and holds your hand a little more securely. "I just…I don't want it to wind up like Seungcheol."

"Uh, what about Seungcheol?" You shuffle a little closer while giving him a questioning look.

"Regularly fucking his best friend who has a crush on someone else, while he…while he wants her as more than just company in his bed." The way his expression turns serious and yearning makes your heart start to race a little with hope.

"While he…Are you saying you want more?" You ask quietly.

"Earlier when I said I care about you too much, I meant I care too much to be able to have sex with you if it means nothing. I really fucking like you and I don't want to go home with you like this if you don't feel the same. I can't do that." He shakes his head a little. "As much as I've thought about this, about you and me doing all kinds of kinky shit all over your apartment, and mine when Jihoon isn't there. Or when he is if you're into exhibitionism, I don't know your kinks and I'm pretty sure he wouldn't even notice anyway because he never leaves his fucking room an-" He's rambling at this point, frowning down at your connected hands as he talks.

"Soonyoung." He makes a soft hum of a noise as he looks back up at you with rounded eyes. "We can talk kinks later, I'd really like to get back to the matter of it sounds like you're confessing to me?"

"Oh, right yeah, I guess I am." He chuckles a little and scratches the back of his neck with his free hand. "So uh, yeah, I really like you and uhm, I guess now comes the part where hopefully, you say you like me back but I really don't know if you do because the guys just really said you want to fuck me and-" You cover his mouth with your hand that time to shut up his second bout of nervous rambling.

"I really like you too, Soonie," You confirm softly and giggle at the way his features light up adorably behind your palm. "Can we skip the trial dating bullshit and go straight to being together? I'd like to show you off as my boyfriend," His eyes widen dramatically and then he's nodding rapidly in agreement without dislodging your hand. "You're so cute." You coo and lean in just to press a kiss to the back of your hand over his mouth. He looks utterly betrayed and heartbroken when you lean back. "What?" You play innocent and lower your hand while backing up, lacing your fingers behind your back.

"You can't tease me like that, baby!" He whines, toddling after you and dragging his feet in a sulk as he moves along the carpeted flooring of the hall.

"Tease? Me? Never," You grin at him then stop as your back hits the door to the staircase.

"You are, teased me for the past year. Teasing me now." He continues to mumble away as he nears, though cuts off when you reach out to grab the sword and yank on the plastic to pull him in right up against you. His hands automatically fly up to catch himself on the door above your head while his breath catches in his throat.

"If you're so worried I'm going to keep teasing you, Soonie, you better hurry up and take what you want." You warn in a low voice, chin tilted up so your faces are only inches apart.

Soonyoung groans in the back of his throat before he leans down and seals his lips against yours in a hungry, desperate kiss. He presses his left forearm flat against the door beside your head so that he can firmly hold your jaw with his right hand and tilt you further into him with his thumb pushing on your chin to urge your mouth open wider and deepen the kiss in a manner much too filthy for a public hallway of your friend's apartment building.

"Oh for fucks sake!" The loud voice of the friend in question forces you both apart to peer over Soonyoung's shoulder to where Seungkwan is in the hallway with the cute neighbour he's recently started to date, their hands together and clearly with one intention in mind while sneaking away from his own party. They're standing outside of the neighbour's slightly open door but Seungkwan is staring at you and Soonyoung in disbelief. "I told you to go home! Not get your booty here!"

"Ha, booty, pirate joke." You snigger and Soonyoung giggles, both at your amusement and the pun he honestly hadn't even noticed.

"You two are fucking useless." Seungkwan decides and lets his neighbour tug him into the apartment. "You better be gone before I'm back!"

"90 seconds, right?!" Soonyoung calls as Seungkwan disappears. The younger's head pops back out to glare at the other and flip him a very heartfelt middle finger before the door actually shuts behind him that time. Soonyoung turns to look at you with a mischievous smirk. "Should we go fuck on his bed just to piss him off?"

"As tempting as that sounds, I'd rather only I hear you like that, Soonie," You pout at him cutely. "I'm not very good at sharing my toys, you know."

"Oh, I'm your toy now?" He muses, reaching down to open the door carefully to back you through it with his other arm wrapping around your waist.

"Mm, mine and only mine to play with when I want, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, yours and yours only, baby." He agrees lowly. "And you're mine."

"I am." You confirm and tilt up to kiss him teasingly. "Let's hurry and get home so I can show you everything that now belongs to you."

A/N; There is more to this but I had to cut it all because it really was me mostly rambling with a sort of hand job thrown in there. The title comes from a conversation in the part I haven't included, by the way. Working title was "Yo ho hoe". But if I continue that part I removed from this, I guess there will be a part 2 as a direct continuation from this and it'll include smut.

[writeplace-wrongtime]

The Bet

*cracks knuckles* fine, I'll do it myself.

Okay but seriously, I've only binge watched the first 6 seasons of criminal minds, so I'm probably a bit off with character personalities.

This turned into mostly the team finding out, so if anyone wants a part 2 with more scenes pre-reveal I'd love to write it!

masterlist coming soon

Word Count: 3k

CW// brief mention of kidnapping case, use of y/n (i'm sorry), not beta'd

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

‘When was the last time you saw Hotch leave before the rest of us?’

The most recent case had been a relatively short one, allowing the team to get back to Quantico reasonably early. A young man caught kidnapping local women, caught easily when he appeared on CCTV taking his latest victim. Three women, three days. All had minor injuries, but all were alive. It had been the ideal end to the case and no loss of life meant the paperwork was minimal.

Emily’s voice caught the attention of Derek, who followed her gaze to the elevator, where the Unit Chief stood waiting. He raised his eyebrows, trying to think back on the last few months of late nights, week-long cases and multiple middle of the night calls.

‘Not since before his divorce,’ Spencer piped up helpfully from behind his desk, packing away the days half-finished reports and case notes before he too looked up. ‘Hey, has anyone seen y/l/n? They mentioned going for food on the jet, and I know this really nice Indian restaurant not far from here, I was going to suggest we all go.’

Now that Emily thought about it, she hadn’t seen you after you’d gone to Hotch’s office to drop off your report. Barely five minutes later, Hotch had made a beeline for the elevator, leaving unusually early compared to normal, and then you too had disappeared.

‘Holy shit.’ The dots were connecting in her head. ‘They’re totally hooking up!’

This gathered the full attention of everyone in the room.

‘Who’s hooking up?’ Penelope had her bag in hand as she peeked in the door, drawn to the gossip like a moth to a flame.

‘Y/l/n and Hotch!’

‘Oh my god!’ Penelope was quick to rush over to the group now huddled around Emily’s desk.

‘No way,’ Derek was shaking his head, arms crossed over his chest. They’d been working as a team for years, there’s no way you and Hotch were in a secret relationship, and no one had noticed. ‘Come on, you really think they could have hidden something like that from us?’

Spencer shrugged, joining the conversation fully. ‘Hotch hid the fact that Emily was alive from all of us for months, so a secret relationship wouldn’t be that hard for him.’ Emily grimaced at the comparison, searching for any hint of bitterness in his tone, though found none. He had been hurt that they hadn’t trusted him to know the secret, but that hurt had faded over the couple years since Emily had returned. He offered her an apologetic smile, as if only realising what he’d said.

‘Want to make this more interesting?’ Quick to bring the conversation back to inane office gossip, Emily reached into her bag to pull out her purse. ‘100 dollars they’re doing it.’

‘Oh, you’re on. 100 they’re not.’ Derek placed two fifties on top of Emily’s two. Another two went down, and they both looked up to see Spencer sheepishly tucking his wallet back into his pocket.

‘I think they’ve been dating for a couple weeks now, I assumed everyone else had noticed.’

Quickly, Penelope had joined, and much to everyone’s surprise, so did Rossi. Penelope thought they’d just started dating, and Rossi thought it had been at least six months. JJ scooped up the cash, promising to be a neutral party to assure the winner got the whole lot. Plus, when this inevitably went wrong, she did not want to be involved in the fallout.

‘Okay, but how do we get them to admit-‘

‘Or not admit,’ Derek cut in.

‘Or not admit, what’s going on?’ Emily mused. Everyone’s eyes instantly went to Penelope.

‘Oh no, no, no-‘

Penelope’s office felt quite cramped with some many people in it, the space only meant to house one technical analyst, not one technical analyst and five nosey special agents. Five nosey agents who were all huddled around Penelope to peer at the screen over her shoulders.

‘Oh it does not feel right tracking their phones like this,’ Penelope’s fingers danced across the keys as she brought up both locations, ‘My powers should only be used for good, not- not snooping on our friends personal lives!’ Still, she let the trace run its course, displaying the address for the others to see.

‘That’s Hotch’s apartment.’ Spencer recognised the address immediately. Two little dots blinked on the screen, Hotch’s address hovering above them.

‘So they’re together, that doesn’t mean they’re hooking up.’ Derek knew his argument was weak, but hell he had 100 dollars riding on it.

‘Oh come on, they sneak out and go to Hotch’s apartment and you think they’re what, making cookies?’

‘Kids, stop fighting,’ Dave put a hand on both Derek and Emily’s shoulders. ‘Why don’t you just phone y/l/n, invite them for food, see what happens.’

‘You think they’d lie to us?’ Spencer asked, as Penelope pulled out her phone and dialled your number.

‘They’ve been lying to us about this for weeks, if you’re bet is right anyway,’ Emily nudged him with her elbow. He nudged her back.

‘Technically it’s an omission not a lie, since none of us directly asked if they’re-‘

‘Shhh its ringing!’ The room fell to silence as Penelope put her phone to her ear.

~

Even though it had been a short case, you had been looking forward to getting back. And by how quickly Aaron had offered up his apartment for a movie night, he had been too. It was important to keep a clear line between boss and boyfriend while in the field, and it was only professional to stay in separate rooms during cases, so it felt good to have Aaron back in boyfriend mode, with comforting touches and quality time away from the office, away from the titles and roles that accompanied your positions at the BAU.

You had finished your report in record time. It was pure luck that everyone was too caught up in their own work to notice you slipping away. After dropping your report on Aaron’s desk, you had made a quick exit, waiting by Aaron’s car until he joined you in the car park. It had become routine to leave short gaps between your arrivals and exits, allowing the illusion that you had travelled separately, from different apartments, in different cars. It was a short ride back to his apartment.

You had only just settled back against Aaron’s side, a bowl of popcorn perched between your thighs when your phone buzzed.

‘Hey beautiful, where’d you run off to?’ Penelope’s sweet voice rang out from the other end of the line, ‘We’re going for food, you coming with?’

You glanced sideways at Aaron, who kept his eyes on the TV, though you knew he was listening in by the way his arm tensed around you. You gently squeezed the arm closest to you, relaxing further into his hold so he knew you weren’t planning on leaving.

‘Sorry Pen, not tonight, I’m, uh, not feeling great after today’s case…’ You trailed off, hoping she’d accept the excuse and you’d be home free. You should’ve known it wouldn’t be as simple as that. There was pause, and you could’ve sworn you could hear hushed conversation. Must’ve been the rest of the team packing up to leave. You felt almost guilty that they were still at the office, when you’d left as soon as your own report was done.

‘Oh honey!’ Her voice was laced with sympathy, ‘That’s it, we’ll bring the food to you! Nothing like good food and company to cheer up the soul!’ Your head fell back against Aaron’s chest with more force than necessary. Curse her and her kindness.

‘No, no it’s okay, really-‘ You tried to prevent your voice from giving away your panic, ‘No need to go out of your way! Tell the guys I said enjoy!’

‘Its not out of our way at all! See you in twenty, gorgeous.’ The line went dead before you had a chance to respond. You could feel the vibrations of Aaron’s quiet laugh behind you, tilting your head back to look up at him.

‘You think this funny?’ Your words were pointed, but the smile on your lips gave away your hidden amusement. In lieu of an answer, he leaned down to pepper kisses along your shoulder, the side of your neck, anywhere he could reach. You savoured the warmth of his lips against your skin, a soft moan escaping your parted lips as the kisses became more heated. Tilting your head back to give him easier access, you let out a disappointed whine when he instead detached from you, gently pushing you up until you were sitting straight.

‘They’re going to be at your apartment soon,’ He reminded you, giving your arm a squeeze before moving to stand. Your cheeks were flushed red, taking a few steadying breaths as he took the popcorn from your lap, placing it on the coffee table, before holding his hands out to you. Shooting him a mock glare, you resigned yourself to getting off the comfortable couch and getting your shoes on. As much as you loved your co-workers, so much that they were practically family, you really did not want to spend the evening with them, not when you could be curled up on the couch with Aaron, pretending the outside world didn’t exist.

‘Shit,’ You nearly tripped over your untied laces in your hurry to turn, ‘My car’s still at the office, Aaron I don’t have time to get back there, get my car AND-‘ Your words were halted by the soft press of his lips on yours. Clearly, you weren’t the only one wishing you could stay. Melting against him, your hands found purchase on the solid expanse of his shoulders, fingers digging into the soft material of his t-shirt. He pulled back, just far enough so he could press his forehead against yours.

‘I’ll drive,’ His voice was quiet in the minimal space between you, ‘Tell them your car broke down and I offered you a lift home.’ You just hummed your agreement, too caught up in his closeness to really be paying full attention. Overwhelming warmth encompassed you as you breathed in the faint smell of his cologne, trying to catalogue the feeling in your mind as your panic disappeared with the gentlest of touches.

‘Or,’ You offered mildly, blinking up at him through your lashes, ‘We could just turn our phones off, lock the door, and deal with all of this tomorrow?’ Soft open-mouthed kisses were pressed to the column of his throat in between your words, hands climbing to wrap around the back of his neck. Your fingertips teased the baby hairs at the base of his skull. You knew he wouldn’t take you up on the offer, even when his hands gripped at your waist, pulling you flush against him as he once again claimed your lips with his.

 It had been a tough decision, keeping the relationship from your team, but you had both ultimately decided that it was for the best, at least while things were still new. Then, six weeks had turned into six months, and six months into nearly a year. It was becoming harder and harder to keep a secret, and you nearly wanted the team to catch on. You’d met Jessica, and had a proper introduction to Jack, even going so far as to have gone to a few of his soccer practices at Jack’s insistence. You had been slowly moving your stuff into his room, small things like toiletries, pyjamas and a few spare work outfits. You spent more time at Aaron’s apartment than your own. You loved it. What you didn’t love, was having to hide it all from your friends.

‘We really should go,’ Aaron murmured against your lips, ‘At least you’ll get free food out of this.’

You laughed softly at that, pressing one last kiss to his lips before pulling back, cheeks dusted pink. ‘I’d rather have you.’ A rare boyish grin was your only response, before he turned to grab his keys and you quickly tied your laces. You were soon on the familiar road home.

 ~

They didn’t wait around to see if you were rushing from Hotch’s apartment, instead piling into the back of Derek’s car haphazardly. All but JJ, who had familial responsibilities, and Rossi who just wanted to go home, managed to fit into one SUV.  If Rossi had been with them to take some of the blame, Derek might’ve even thrown on the sirens and lights. Instead, he skipped through a few orange lights, and just barely stuck to the speed limits. When they arrived at the Indian restaurant, Spencer was sent to pick up the order, being deemed least likely to do something stupid like flash his badge for quicker service. Emily followed him inside to help carry it all back to the car. Even without the badge, they managed to make it in and out in under ten minutes. Luck was on their side, getting them to your apartment just 25 minutes after Penelope had hung up on you.

When they came to a stop outside your apartment complex, your car wasn’t parked in its normal spot, and they had a moment of celebration before Spencer realised the light was on inside. A light that meant you had beat them.

They all had to hide their disappointment when you greeted them at the door, not showing any sign of having rushed from one apartment to the other. Being one of the closer apartments to the office, yours was often used as a base for nights out, girl’s nights, and team movie-nights. It was the team’s apartment more than it had ever been just yours. Moving seamlessly through your kitchen grabbing plates, cutlery and glasses, Emily and Penelope set to organising the food, while Spencer and Derek moved your coffee table to the centre of the room so everyone could sit around it. It warmed you to know they felt at home here.

‘I’ll have to get someone to look at it tomorrow,’ You sounded morose enough that Emily almost believed your “car trouble” story. She just hummed her commiserations before stealing some chicken from your Jalfrezi. As much as she’d hoped to catch you and Hotch in your lie – or omission as Spencer would remind her – she enjoyed spending time with you, and this had been the perfect excuse for a team night.

‘Hotch didn’t stick around after dropping you off?’ Emily asked casually, scooping up a mouthful of curry with the edge of a poppadom. If you noticed the groups sudden interest in your conversation you didn’t show it. You shook your head, pushing the thought of his hands on your waist and his lips on your skin, out of your mind.

‘He was just being nice, he probably has better things to be doing after a case than hanging out here.’

Derek had to hide his laugh with a cough. You frowned at him, but before you could question it, Emily dragged you back into a conversation about Sergio and how he stole her bagel the other day. She glared at Derek when you weren’t looking. Conversation flowed easily after that, and it wasn’t long before everyone was on their second helping of food and the booze cupboard had been ransacked.

‘Hey babygirl, you seeing what I’m seeing?’ Derek had just sat back down with his second full plate when he spotted it; the start of your downfall. He nudged Penelope, nodding his head toward you. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, before rising nearly to her hairline. A sharp “oh my god” left her lips, before she covered her mouth. Just beneath the edge of your oversized t-shirt, a small red mark was blooming on your skin. It looked suspiciously like a hickey. A very, very new one at that. Penelope’s little outburst was quickly noted by Emily, who paused mid-conversation to notice what they had. Her shit-eating grin matched Derek’s perfectly.   

‘What?’ You frowned at her, quickly glancing at Spencer opposite you. He shrugged, offering no help.

‘Maybe Hotch stuck around for a little while after all?’ There was a teasing lilt to her tone as she reached out to tug your collar a little lower. You could feel heat rising up your neck into your cheeks, a beautiful shade of crimson. Covering the offending mark with your hand, you tried to come up with an excuse. Nothing came. Opening your mouth and then closing it a few times, you tried to look anywhere but at your friends. You were caught and you knew it. They knew it too.

‘Is there any point in me saying I burnt myself?’ You tried for a smile, but it turned out more like a grimace.

‘Nope.’ Emily said, popping the “p”.

‘Aaron and I, we, uh…’ You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, your blush darkening, as Penelope mouthed “Aaron!” at Emily, who practically giggled. You were going to have to restock your alcohol cupboard before they came round again. You took a breath, glancing around the room. All eyes were on you.

 ‘We’re dating.’

There was an immediate outburst of “oh my god!”s and “I knew it!”s. You had expected to feel awful when your secret was finally out in the open, but all you could feel was relief. Well, and a tinge of embarrassment. Warmth bubbled in your chest, looking around the room at your team, your family, knowing you didn’t have to hide it from them anymore.

‘What ya thinking about over there?’ Emily nudged your arm, a small tendril of guilt creeping through her. You’d obviously wanted to spend your evening with Hotch, and instead they’d dragged you away in a hurry, all just to invade your privacy. A small grin broke through your façade.

‘I’m thinking, seeing as it’s not a secret anymore, I can leave you losers and go back to spending the night with my boyfriend.’ A chorus of cheers followed your words, and someone (you suspected Emily) shouted “Go get some, girl!”.

Spencer wrinkled his nose at that. ‘Gross, remember that’s Hotch we’re taking about, he’s pretty much our work dad.’ His words caused a laugh to bubble in your chest, and you leaned over Emily to plant a big kiss on his cheek.

‘Guess that makes me your new work-mom!’ He made a big show of wiping your kiss from his cheek, but the small smile that followed gave away his charade.

‘What are you waiting for beautiful? Your man is waiting for you!’ Your wide grin echoed Penelope’s as she ushered you up and out of the living room. Your overnight gear was already at Aaron’s, so all you needed was your shoes and phone. You felt almost giddy as you threw the spare key to Spencer.

‘Don’t stay up too late kiddos!’

‘Hey, hold on a second,’ You glanced at Derek, who had started stacking plates to take to the kitchen, ‘How long has this been going on?’

‘Oh… Y’know, only about 11… months.’ You shot them an abashed smile, before darting for the door as all hell broke loose.

‘You didn’t win the bet either!’ Emily and Derek’s argument floated out the door with you, and you couldn’t help but laugh. Of course they had bet on it. You didn’t have it in you to care, instead shutting the door with a sound click. Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you dialled Aaron’s number.

‘Hey handsome,’ You couldn’t help the smile that carried through in your words, ‘You want to finish that movie?’