#Timing Solution for Marathon | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

teeskzagain · 4 months ago

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» pairing: arrogant!sunghoon x bratty!reader

» summary: it's nearing the end of mid-term season, and sunghoon is truly on the brink of death. luckily, his roommates have a solution to help him recuperate from the treacherous week: one large ass, big ass, loud ass party. even if it may not be his scene normally , sunghoon figures there's no harm in trying it out. little did he know, from the moment he would step foot into that house, the night was going to be full of mistakes.

» genre + warnings: college au, alcohol consumption, heavy kissing + hard make outs, lots of arguments, hickies, rough sex (like rough), choking, unprotected sex (DONT DO THAT), cream pies, dirty talking, t e n s i on, mean!dom sunghoon, batty!sub reader, enemies to NO lovers, shitty depictions of sim jake and lee heeseung (don't take this seriously)

» w.c: 10.9k

» a/n: not on time, but at least it's within the hour! (no its not) still, give me some credit...

» taglist: @indigoez @jakeswifez @aanniikkaa-blog @slut4hee @heeknow @rairaiblog-blog @no1likeneo @d-dilemma @soobingf-blog @shuaxzcake @mingyuslice @heelovesmeknot @mitmit01 @hpnsfwaddict @jooniesbears-blog @notrosemary @remii830@jooniesbears-blog @pasteltheghost16 @goodforgyu @sunghoonsbigcoketip

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Entering his shared apartment, Sunghoon is quick to throw off his backpack and sling off his coat. He doesn’t even bother putting them in their designated spots, rather deciding to leave the items scattered about. Yep, he's that out of it, that he doesn’t even care for the mess just now created.

Despite having recently finished his latest mid-term exam, it's as if the burden of stress still weighs on him. His shoulders are tense, there's pressure in his head, his eyes are hanging low. Truthfully, he doesn't even remember the last time he smiled within the past week. Mid-terms were absolutely brutal this time around.

The only saving grace is the fact that it's now done. Finally. After damn near killing himself for the past week and a half; the sleepless nights, the treacherous study hours. Even if he may not have his results for some time now, he's just glad to have it over with.

“Thank, god.” He mumbles more to himself. Currently, he’s beelining straight into the kitchen and to the refrigerator.

He grabs the first water bottle seen, and waste no time screwing the cap off and gulping down sections of liquid. Because of the back to back exams, he couldn’t even find time to properly eat or drink anything, leaving him parched and fatigued. He swings his head forward to cut off the remaining water flow, a small gasp falling from his throat as well.

Little huffs continuously erupt from Sunghoon. Today must’ve worn him out even more than he realized. So much so, that he finds himself going in for another swing, downing the bottle half empty until-

“Holy shit, dude!”

Sunghoon rips the bottle away from his mouth, slightly startled from the sudden outbreak. There, standing in the kitchen, is his roommate and close friend, Sim Jake. Who from the looks of it- with his messy hair, oversized shirt/shorts combo, and titled glasses -probably either just woke up or got done boning someone.

Maybe….both?

“Did you just run a fucking marathon? Why are you drinking it like that?” Jake questions as he goes in above to reach for the cabinet. He originally came in for some snacks, only to get jumpscared by his roommate acting strange.

Realizing he must have looked crazy, Sunghoon lets out a small chuckle, “I just got done with my last exam, and now I’m exhausted.”

“Clearly...” Jake mutters. Quickly, he retrieves a couple of chip bags then closes the cubby door, “But, I hear you. I mean, you did take 19 credit hours this semester. Probably wasn’t gonna be a walk in the park when it came to the tests.”

And to that, Sunghoon could only nod in agreement. Yes, he’s fully aware how psychotic it must have been to request 19 hours this semester. But, Sunghoon has his reasons for doing so, plus he was certain he could have handled it. Now….not so much. If this amount of stress is already getting to him, he doesn’t even want to think about finals week.

Jake lets his own words linger as he’s about ready to step out of the kitchen. Before doing just that, he catches a glimpse of Sunghoon’s face, causing him to instead move in closer. Eyeing the stoic boy, Jake’s face scrunches, “Oh, god. Dude, and your eye bags are getting darker. How much sleep have you been getting?”

With a ‘tch’, Sunghoon swats the boy away and does a side step from the space invasion. He opts to leave the crammed space and book it towards the connected living room, “None, basically. I was hauling ass these past couple of weeks to prepare for mid-terms. In which, there’s no such thing as sleep.”

As he flops down on to the couch, a laborious groan leaves his chest and even that surprises Sunghoon. God, what’s wrong with him? Jake follows him into the living room as well, watching the way Sunghoon’s body stiffly sinks into the cushions.

“Jesus Christ,” Jake comments, the scene unfolding before his very eyes becoming increasingly sad. It looks as if Sunghoon has strained something in the process of….relaxing? and is now rubbing his lower back, “No wonder Y/N called you a hallowed-out machine the other day. It’s like you’re wearing down more and more by the hour.”

At the mention of your name, Sunghoon’s neck snaps up towards Jake’s vicinity. Jake, in turn, finds himself shuffling backwards slightly out of fear, “Don’t you dare speak her name in this apartment. Are you asking for a death wish?”

He and his other roommate, Heeseung, know the rules: no mentions of you ever. It irks him every single time. Coupled with the fact that Jake had brought up the insult thrown at him not too long ago by you? Yeah, maybe he did have a death wish.

Jake swiftly raises his hands in the air as a sign of surrendering, “Look, I’m just saying. You’re so rigid, your spine doesn’t even curve.” Sunghoon instinctively glances behind his shoulder, then goes to straighten his back. Well, as much as he could.

Regarding him, Jake continues, “You’ve been stressed out of your mind lately, Hoon. And now, you can’t even relax properly.”

The disgruntled boy scoffs, shifting around in his seat briefly, “Oh, fuck off…” It also didn’t help that minor sounds of his back cracking occurred.

“I’m being serious!” Throwing his arms out, Jake tries to emphasize his point by a, ‘just look at you!’ claim of evidence. Sunghoon merely jeers, opposing his statements.

Just as the conversation gained traction, out comes Lee Heeseung from his room, a bowl of finished noodles in hand as he slurps the last remaining ramen. He gets only a couple steps in when he gazes up and stops in his tracks, and with wide eyes, he darts back and forth between the always stressed out Sunghoon and a growing stressed out Jake.

He swallows his food, “What’s going on in here?”

“Oh, Hee! Great, now you can be apart of this, I need backup.” Jake’s eyes scan Heeseung’s body as he travels into the kitchen to wash his dish.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Sunghoon rests two fingers on his forehead and goes in for a message, swearing he’s going to lose his mind soon. The swooshing from the running water causes Jake to shout over it.

“Our mate over here doesn’t believe that he’s lost it. You know, with his terribly designed schedule and all.”

Sliding the digits down his face, Sunghoon could only deadpan towards his roommate, “I’m going to strangle you.”

While looking back behind him, Heeseung is wrist deep into cleaning the bowl. Though, that doesn’t stop him from answering, “Oh, yeah. Sunghoon, you’ve been out of it for weeks, man!”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Sarcasm oozes from Sunghoon’s statement which only acts as more fuel for the fire Jake has created.

“And that’s the issue,” Jake counters, “You’ve been wound up for so long, it’s starting to impact you even after the fact.”

The faucet promptly gets turned off, him placing the bowl in the nearby drying rack, and soon Heeseung is strolling out of the kitchen and up to Jake. The two stand side by side each other as a small pout forms on Heeseung’s face.

“You haven’t slept in days. I know, cause I’ve heard you up past like 1 AM every single night, groaning about your tests.” It took Heeseung about a couple of days into the week to realize Sunghoon wasn’t just jerking off unusually loud, but instead was producing pained moans from his grueling study hours.

A low grumble bubbles out from Sunghoon, with him throwing harsh dagger eyes towards his roommates, “Is this some sort of impromptu intervention? What the fuck?”

“What? No-”

“Yes.” Jake butts-in before Heeseung had a chance to satiate him, “You know what, actually, yeah it is. As your best friends and amazing roommates-”

Holy god.

“-we can’t just let you work yourself dead. Then, who would help us pay for rent?”

Sunghoon stares blankly at Jake’s stupid puppy dog eyes and stupid half grin. After a quick round of silence, Heeseung then takes the time to chime in.

“On a more….sincere note,” he starts off by accentuating the sincere part, “we really are just worried for you, Hoon. Yeah, you’ve always been pretty stiff in manners, but now that’s like…been amplified.”

Jake uses the crown of his head to point towards Heeseung, signaling his consensus. He then brings his hands to his hips, his face morphing into a pondering pose. As his brain churns, the remaining boys just wait for whatever idea is brewing.

“Oh!” Like a light bulb going off in his head, Jake gets the brightest idea. One, for the record, he just knows will cure whatever academic illness Sunghoon’s been subjected to, “What you need…is a few drinks in you.”

“It’s 2 in the afternoon.” Sunghoon turns his nose upright at whatever proposition that was, only for Jake to come back with a retort.

“No..no, not right now. I mean later tonight.”

It’s after those words Heeseung perks his own head up. Ah, okay. He’s picking up what Jake’s putting down, “Ohhh, right. Jungwon did say he was gonna throw tonight.”

“Exactly, and it’s supposed to be the biggest one yet.” Jake sticks out his tongue wickedly, “You should be able to loosen up there. Cause if anything, Jungwon is gonna make sure you will.”

Sunghoon truly can’t think of any other place he would hate going to more than a party. What kind of shitty idea is that?

“No.”

Jake raises an eyebrow, “No?”

“I have to study-”

“No, you don’t!” He exclaims back at the boy sitting on the couch, “See, it’s like you’re infected. Always worrying about school, always concerned about your grades. Blah. Blah. Doesn’t it get tiring?”

Sunghoon can’t believe what he’s hearing. Of course his dumbass friend couldn’t understand the hard work and care he puts into university, when he’s too busy practically sleeping the day away. Or fucking someone, who knows, really. Hoon opens his mouth and is ready to refute the comment when Heeseung jumps in, stopping any forming sentences.

“Just think of this as a chance for you to actually enjoy yourself. You know, getting out, putting some alcohol into your system, maybe….finding another way to relieve some stress?” His eyebrows shoot upwards with a wiggle, indicating an innuendo. Jake immediately yells in delight.

“Fuck yes!” It’s as if Jake’s figured it all out. No wonder why Sunghoon’s been so cranky, “You need to find some girl and stick your dick in her. You’ve been celibate for too long.”

Sunghoon glares over to the two standing near him. One of them bears a look of plead while the other waits patiently for his answer. He doesn’t get it. His friends know he’d rather drop dead than go to some party. So, why try to convince him? Letting out a ghostly sigh, Sunghoon thinks for a bit.

“What if…that’s by choice?” Sunghoon attempts to counter argue. He brings his forearms down to his knees, resting them there.

Jake could only roll his eyes, “Oh, we know it’s by choice. Too many girls have asked us for your socials and shit.”

“They like the whole unapproachable act you do. Apparently, it’s hot.” Heeseung adds, which means it’s now Sunghoon’s turn to do a dramatic eye roll. There is no act. There is no strategy. That’s just how he is.

“You guys are crazy.” He mumbles with a light shake, though Jake doesn’t falter. Instead, he inches closer towards Sunghoon with another single attempt.

“Listen to us Hoon,” Jake starts again one final time. He is determined to get his friend to see the bigger picture, “You’re finished with your midterms, which we know for fact you killed them. At least do it as a celebration for yourself.”

Heeseung points a finger in Sunghoon’s direction, “And the weekend is coming up. You could use this party as a gateway into your much needed time away from school.”

“Plus, you’ll have us there to make sure you don’t get too bored. And wingman if you want us too.” A wink gets thrown in from Jake, and that finally cracks down Sunghoon’s hard exterior. He lets out a short laugh.

So, maybe there is some plausible truth to what he is hearing. And, if Sunghoon’s being honest, he does feel as if he has accomplished something. Is there really any harm in celebrating? Plus, it’s only for one night and he knows the host, Jungwon; if things get too crazy, he can always just leave.

“Are you considering it?” Heeseung quips, leaning in towards his friend. He truly does believe this will help resolve some of that pent up frustration.

Sunghoon blows out a harsh breath, dropping one arm as the other goes in to scratch the back of his head. He thinks it over one last time. Jesus, is he really about to go to this thing? Giving it some more thought, Sunghoon raises back up and soon flashes a tired smile in the boys’ direction.

“What the hell. Alright, fine.”

His two friends cheer proudly. Finally, an actual chance at winding down and enjoying himself. They’re happy Sunghoon made the right choice, or else he would’ve been holed up in here by himself. Which, it’s already sad enough he does that on the regular, at least now he can have somewhat of a social life. All thanks to them.

“Damn, it’s gonna be so much fun tonight.” Exclaiming, Jake knocks himself into Heeseung with a fat smile.

Heeseung laughs back, “I already know Jungwon’s gonnna be psyched to hear that Hoon’s coming. I think Jay and Sunoo said they’ll show up too. Plus Riki, maybe. Either way, it’ll be great.”

Sunghoon sits up and brushes his palms over his thighs, already feeling a mixture between excitement and nerves, “I hope it is.”

“Don’t sweat it. Jungwon’s parties are always fun. You’ll enjoy it.” Jake reassures him and Heeseung throws in his own attestant, confirming the statement.

As they all finish out their conversation, soft footsteps creak against their hard floors, causing the talking to die down. They all look over to see where the noise came from, only to find a disheveled looking girl with messy hair and an oversized T-shirt standing idly near the hallway.

Sunghoon tilts his head in confusion.

“Jake…I was getting worried,” She begins, rubbing her sleepy eyes, “Come back to bed.”

While Sunghoon and Heeseung exchange a glance with one another, Jake placates the girl with a quick, ‘Be there in a second’, then turns towards the two. He drags a lip into his mouth, which does nothing to stop the devilish smile from taking over.

“Well, duty calls.” And then he’s gone.

Heeseung takes his leave as well, returning back to his room after saying his departure to Sunghoon. Now there’s only him.

Sunghoon rethinks the events of what just happened, and although he feels some wariness beginning to creep inside of him, he also knows the feeling of elation is ever more present. Yeah, he really does see himself as being excited for tonight.

Because truly, what’s the worst that could happen?

Sunghoon feels as if his mind is on Cloud ni- no, scratch that -Cloud 20 right now.

With a sappy grin, flushed face, and hooded eyes, the boy spends his time hovering in a corner, basking in the warmness that's practically radiating off of him.

In contrast, his eyes scan around the chaotic mess of dancing bodies, crowded groups, and alcohol flowing throughout the living room of some giant ass mansion Jungwon was able to rent out. There’s colored lights bouncing off the walls, and if he didn’t know any better, they were synced with the music blasting all around.

He finds that he can’t exactly pinpoint what’s making him feel so at ease. His muscles are relaxed and not tense as usual. He rests casually against the wall. The cup in his hand had only a few sips remaining, and even that would be gone within the next 5 seconds.

Even though he usually chooses to stay indoors and rest, Sunghoon doesn’t truly understand why or how he actually found enjoyment at something so degenerating as a party-

"Hey!"

As if he's moving in slow motion, Sunghoon twists his head to see where the voice is coming from, his light smile not faltering once. Jake comes into focus, who’s sporting a similar manner as himself right now. He walks up with another red cup in grasp.

"You good, man?" He asks once standing next to Sunghoon.

Eyes glossy, Sunghoon regards his friend before whipping his head forwards to the sea of people. Sighing, he allows his head to fall back gently onto the dry wall, "I feel great. Feel so fucking good right now."

"Holy shit. See," Jake laughs a little too hard into Sunghoon's shoulder, causing both boys to stumble slightly, "Aren't you happy Heeseung and I brought you here tonight? You’re finally relaxing.”

Sunghoon could only chuckle softly at the words. Nothing truer could have been spoken. Right now, he is completely at peace and is tranquil all thanks to his persistent friends.

“So,” Jake starts as he moves to the left of Sunghoon, “Found someone worth exploring yet?”

Sunghoon laughs even more, though he knew nothing funny was really said. He didn’t know why, but everything seems more humorous. He loves it, “No. No, I haven’t been looking.”

Groaning, Jake begins to chastise his friend for acting like such a rookie, “Seriously, come on,” he jabs a finger into his temple, “You need to- to get your head…in the game. Start scoping out the scene.”

“What the fuck, man.” Sunghoon playfully darts his eyes away, the corners of his mouth staying upright.

“No, really. You gotta do it for Little Hoon.”

Sunghoon shoves Jake’s arm with a guffaw. What is he even saying right now? The two of them continue laughing and talking, the the topic of ‘Little Hoon’ becoming the forefront of their conversation, when a loud whoop followed by cheers interrupt them.

Entering through a doorway with a silver platter in hand, Heeseung emerges from god knows where, wearing a nearly identical expression to his two buddies. Even with people shouting and yelling at him, he stalks right up to them standing near the wall, and it’s at that moment Sunghoon notices the tray holding six more shots.

“It’s time, guys.” Heeseung parks right in front of them, now blocking Sunghoon’s view of the chaos. He lowers the platter so it’s waist level with everyone, “Rouuunnd three. You know the drill, Hoon.”

Since this is Heeseung’s third time bringing out the tray, of course Sunghoon knows what to do. The first time there were only three shots, second time a merely two- Heeseung had already taken his, and now this is supposed to be the final punch.

Sunghoon reaches down and picks up one of the plastic shot cups, then brings the rim to his eyes, “I think…I should’ve asked earlier. But, what’s in here?”

For a moment there’s silence. Then, instead of answering, Heeseung simply shushes at the curious boy while Jake helps guide Sunghoon’s arm down to his mouth. Once there, he grabs at a mini cup and so does Heeseung.

“Don’t ask. Just drink.” Jake directs, and it’s only then Sunghoon notices just how much thicker his accent gets when he’s inebriated.

“Here we go!” Heeseung leads first with him throwing his head back, and shortly everyone followed suit.

The first of the two shots slide down Sunghoon’s throat with no problem, but he’s still not used to the burning that arises with the liquid. After drinking the last remains in his cup, he goes back in for the final shot, in which the three of them take simultaneously.

“Oh, god.” Jake grimaces from the taste and shakes his head.

“Fuck, those hit me. Yep, I’m feeling those now.” Heeseung shuts his eyes reactively then quickly opens them, letting out a small huff.

Sunghoon feels the alcohol course down his pipe and land right in his chest. It leaves him with a tingly feeling that doesn’t leave him right away. And then, he’s coughing. Oh, wow. That one must’ve went down the wrong way.

“Whew. Alright,” Jake claps his hands together, and with a rub, he glances back and forth between his friends, “Now that we’ve gotten Sunghoon really loosened up, let’s see what’s around.”

Heeseung cheers and does a side step, the three of them now lined up against the wall.

Sunghoon takes a deep breath, yet even that simple task makes him feel strange, “If I’m- being honest. I don’t even know what I’m looking for…” Sunghoon half-shrugs while his eyelids slowly drop then widens.

Heeseung cranes his neck upwards, essentially dismissing the comment. He attempts to see over the crowd in front of him, then instantly, something catches his eye, “Oh, there’s Park Jia,” he peers back slightly towards his friend, “If you’re wanting a screamer, she’s your match.”

Both Sunghoon and Jake try to follow Heeseung’s eyeline, then quickly spot a girl downing a cup near the beer pong table.

Jake scrunches his nose, “Dude, she has a boyfriend. Of like…3 years.”

Sunghoon glances back over to Heeseung, to which he dryly chuckles, “Not my fault if she came on to me. Suho should have a better grip on her.”

“Fair.” Jake nods then scans his head once more, “How about Lee Chennie? Apparently you can make her wet in seconds, she’s that desperate.”

“But she also does those high-pitched fake porn moans. It’s so annoying whenever you’re trying to fuck her.” Heeseung sneers, obviously not a fan, “How do you feel about Kang Minhee, Hoon?”

“What about Kim Gyuri?”

“Kim Haeyun?”

“Oh, shit. She does give great head.”

“I know.”

As his friends continue to explain previous flings, ex-hookups, and horror stories, Sunghoon’s finding it rather hard to keep up. Just from their recaps, apparently they’ve gotten with nearly every single girl within a 10 meter radius, with each girl having their own unique experience. ‘This girl can do this’, ‘this girl can do that’, ’this girl has a trick with her tongue…’ Sunghoon feels his head is gonna explode with all of this new information. Instead of narrowing down his options, he feels his horizon has expanded. Now, how is he supposed to choose?

“Look, I really don’t have a preference,” He waves a hand around to try and calm the boys down. His own head is getting jumbled from listening to them, “I’ll just see if there’s anyone worth pursui….”

His eyes are trained forward as he kept speaking. He watches the crowd begin to disperse in front of him. People made their way from out of the living room, clearing up space in the once packed area. And it’s only then, when the living room is now much more barren and empty, in which he finds a sight that captivated him, causing him to trail away from his speech.

And not in a good way.

You.

Straight across from him, there you are. You’re passionately dancing with a couple of surrounding girls, a cup waving alongside in the air. You look ecstatic. A bright grin is etched onto your face, body moving along to the thumping beat. While Jake and Heeseung start up talking his ear off again, Sunghoon zeros in on your presence.

What the fuck are you doing here?

He eyes you down. You’re grinding against nothing like a fucking dog in heat, then do a quick twirl. Unintentionally, the movement causes Sunghoon to briefly drop his gaze down to your backside that sways in circles. The dress plastered onto you is short, tight, and black, so it leaves little room to the imagination. His lips quiver from disapproval. Of course you’re going around parading yourself like this. What a whore.

While working his vision back up, a loud giggle floats across the room and stabs him in his ears, courtesy of you. Instinctively, his eye twitches from the sound. It sends him back to the bittersweet laugh you had given him days prior, when you were insulting him. Murmuring behind his chair in class, calling him every name in the goddamn book, ‘an arrogant prick’, ‘a hallowed-out machine’, and other rude things. It ticked him off to no end.

Just like that, he feels his chest begin to burn once more, and this time it’s not from the alcohol. It’s the swirling anger that starts from his inside and radiates outward. Sunghoon tilts his head to the side, squinting his eyes to further look at you.

How is that you always manage to get underneath his skin? One glance in your direction and he’s already losing all rationality. You’ve always had a way of doing this to him, and he absolutely despises you for this fact.

He keeps his sight on you, now feeling his chest heave up and down. Even as the two girls you were fooling around with begin exiting to somewhere else, you keep on dancing; not a care to your name. You’re by yourself now, yet the only drive that’s keeping you in motion is the rhythm that’s blaring aloud.

Jake and Heeseung are still conversing with him, even as they keep recalling more and more girls that walk on by, a few of the girls sending flirty looks their way. Once Heeseung flirts actively back with one of them, only then did Sunghoon snap out of whatever minor trance you had him in.

Right. He should be focusing on relaxing. He should be picking out the girl that he’s going to take upstairs and fuck nice and hard tonight. He deserves at least that. He should be thinking about those kinds of things, and certainly not you. Because when it comes to you, there’s nothing to even consider besides your bratty ass attitude.

Even when trying to distract himself with his friends and their continuous talking, Sunghoon is certainly not fleeting his gaze over towards you every so often, catching glimpses of your winding curves. He knows for a fact that he shouldn’t be staring at your dress which is constantly riding up, almost as if it’s teasing him. Or….inviting him? Fuck, what the hell is he thinking right now?

He shakes his head and rips his gaze away from you, suppressing whatever feeling was creeping up inside him. This is dangerous. He’s becoming too aware of your presence.

That much is evident when he catches himself peering over to your body once more. He follows your hips down to the floor before seductively rising again, and a pang quickly surges throughout his core.

He needs to stop this now. His senses are becoming jumbled, from ideas of hooking up with a girl to you intercepting his attention. It's all leaving him a mess right now. Yet, he finds himself addicted to the risk. Inhaling deeply, he fixes his gaze back on you. This time it's permanent.

He recognizes the fact that his mind is not right. Sunghoon knows this. So why does he find himself shifting against the wall, itching to go over towards you. Why? He has no fucking clue. It has to be the alcohol coercing through him, otherwise in a sober state he’d conclude you as nothing more than a thorn in his side. But, he’s not sober. And his head, which is now flowing with thoughts that just can’t be his, is making him consider going up to you.

His brain feels hazy. Not so much scattered, but full. Full of those unwanted thoughts he would otherwise typically suppress. The kind that normally repulses Sunghoon on a daily basis, but for some reason is invading his head tonight and not wanting to leave. It’s becoming unbearable.

He doesn’t know what comes over. His legs just start moving. Even as he peels from the wall and amble forward, he really isn’t sure what’s happening. His friends shout at him, perplexed about his actions, but he’s direct in where he’s going. With one foot in front of his next, he’s running on autopilot.

It doesn’t make sense why he’s doing this. He’s certain, that with every fiber of his being, he would never allow himself to do something so horrendous had the circumstance been different. Unfortunately, this isn’t any usual scenario.

Soon, he’s standing right in front of you. Sunghoon just regards your carefree stature with glazed eyes and a burning heart, waiting.

You don’t notice your absolute enemy standing mere inches from you. Your eyes are closed as you continue grooving and flowing, the bass hitting your sternum just right. It’s not until you make a full circle, bringing your head up and around, in which you finally crack them open- revealing a scolding Sunghoon now in your vision.

You immediately recoil at the sight, shrieking from being startled, “Oh- what the fuck, Sunghoon?”

He stares at you with flared nostrils, his gaze boring down harshly into yours, “What are you doing here?”

“Huh?” You start to scowl, “What am I…? What are you doing here?”

“Oh.” Sunghoon tries to focus his blurred eyes on your expression; wide, yet confused, “Is me being here really that surprising?”

When going to refute that, you lose your balance momentarily, though you try hiding it with a quick dance move. Regaining yourself, you look back up to him. Your puzzled face has now been replaced with a snarl, “Yeah, actually it is. A hallowed-out machine with nothing better to do with his life….is actually attending a party?” You drop your face mockingly, “Who would’ve thunk it?”

Anger builds up inside of Sunghoon, proven by his eyebrows furrowing in discontentment, “Really? You’re really gonna…gonna act like this? Hasn’t even been a minute of us talking and you’re already being bitchy.”

You simply shrug your shoulders while you keep on dancing, your legs moving about. If he thought he could ruin your good time, oh, he’d be so wrong.

Spinning around, you let a few seconds pass before deciding to addres him, “Did you come alone ‘cause no one else wanted to be around you? Is that why you’re desperate for company?”

He laughs dryly, though his hard expression says otherwise. In all honesty, he isn’t completely sure why he came over here either. Was it the adrenaline rush? The fuzziness of his brain? His brewing thoughts? It wasn’t clear. One thing for sure, he would never reveal that to you.

Rather, he tightens his face as you keep gyrating in circles, “Just like how you’re desperate for attention? You were in my eyesight, and I saw you practically humping the air- thank you for that.”

A disgruntled huff trickles from your mouth. What a fucking scrooge, “Now you’re watching me? Like a fucking creep?”

“I’m sure you wanted the attention,” He makes it obvious he’s referring to your outfit, with the way his eyes casts a disgusted look downwards. He hates how it outlines each and every curve of yours, and pours out your breasts, “Which, now that I think about, doesn’t surprise me. You’ve always had to seek it out somehow.”

Despite your easy going attitude, you find Sunghoon’s words are starting to penetrate you. He always does this. Inputting his beliefs onto you, degrading you. He loves causing unnecessary problems. All. The. Time. God, you can’t stand him. You glower angrily towards the irritating boy, this time putting a halt to your dancing, “What is your problem?”

Sunghoon shifts his weight onto his other foot, crossing his arms. The action causes his muscles to bulge outwards against his short sleeves. Watching that annoyed you, so you peer eyes up. His dark hair is parted and styled, in his usual classic manner. The straight-faced expression he wears perfectly captures his stoic personality, even if his dumb, flawless features help to sculpt his perfect face. Ugh, he just irks you so bad.

“My problem?” He mulls the question over, an eyebrow slightly raising, “To be honest, everything you do pisses me off. It’s hard to pick just one.”

Holy- You think you’re going to kill him.

Abruptly, you spin on your heels- which give you an extra inch of height, and begin staggering your way towards the staircase, “I’m done.”

Sunghoon’s face contorts unpleasantly. His brain short-circuits, and for a second he doesn’t register you leaving, until he’s shaking his head to get his vision clear once again, “Where the hell are you going?”

“Away from you.” You yell over your shoulder. Having made it to the staircase, you grip the railing and start ascending upwards.

“No- no….” Sunghoon’s bunched-in face is ever more present, and this time he takes a step closer to you, “No, I’m not done with you.”

“How about you just take it up the ass.”

“Excuse me?”

You didn’t care if there was no correlation between your statement and his. Instead, you’re too concerned about having to will yourself up each and every stair, “You heard me,” you mumble the next part, “Such a fucking cunt.”

Sunghoon’s absolutely confused, because what? Even as he reels in from the shocking phrase, that doesn’t stop him from leisurely trailing you to the staircase. He still has more to say to you.

“You’re so-”

“-so what?” Cutting him off, you have a bite to your tone. You continue to work your way up the steps, and find it bothersome that you sense his presence lurking directly behind you.

Each time his mouth opens you just want to throw your hands around his throat and strangle him. However, even in your state, you knew unfortunately that wouldn’t go well at a party. Strangling someone and all…

“So fucking annoying. Seriously. I don’t know how anyone can like you.” He jeers. With him following close behind him, he has to stop himself from fully taking in the view of your round ass intruding his space. Oh, fuck him.

“Are you kidding me? I don’t know how anyone can like you.” The two of you reach the top of the staircase and fall into silence afterwards. You dart out a hand to glide against the wall, mainly using it as an aid to maneuver your way down the hall.

He follows your path through the tight area, dodging passerbyers along the way. For the most part, this floor seems to be much more secluded than downstairs. Hardly anyone resides up here. Which also means that once you both reach a bathroom at the far end of the hall- apparently that was the destination all along, you yelp in joy when realizing there would be no line.

As you scurry in, you brush a palm against the door frame then swing around to face Sunghoon who’s coming to a stop, “I’m gonna pee now. So, you can take your….entitled, arrogant, annoying ass somewhere else.”

Those words send him into a spiral. When you go to shut the door close, he’s swiftly throwing it back open, his head jutting out in perplexity, “What was that?”

You waste no time repeating yourself, “You’re an entitled, arrogant ass. That’s also dumb,” you attempt to push harder on the door, “You have a stupid, dumb face.”

“What the…you think you can just say that and leave? Are you trying to piss me off?” He doesn’t let up on the door, and so you quickly give up.

Aimlessly, you make your way over to the toilet, though you don’t sit down immediately. You’re too busy staring down Sunghoon, who’s now worked his way into the bathroom and promptly shuts the door, and locks it.

“You're not so perfect yourself, Y/N,” Sporadically, he gazes all over your body, irritation and something else seeping from within him, “You whine and complain and start problems. You've always had since high school.”

“Oh.” Mentioning the past was not a good idea. Your eyes go large as you now stare intensely at him, taking one step forward, “You wanna bring up high school? Hmm? You wanna? Fine. Let's talk about just how shitty of a person you became.”

“Here we go, again.” Sunghoon rolls his eyes into the back of his head, “That’s what you always say.”

“Because it’s true!” You throw a hand in his direction for emphasis, then without hesitation you plop down on top of the closed toilet lid, “You became friends with those two fucking idiots, and ended up as one yourself.”

Your words simmer aloud before a light chuckles leaves Sunghoon. He shuffles and places his back onto the bathroom door, while crossing his arms yet again, “That’s rich."

You narrow your eyes in his direction, "What?"

"I find it funny you think you have any room to call someone an idiot."

That takes you aback, “What?”

He tilts his head mockingly, "Did you think I forgot? How you almost flunked out our third year because your grades were so low?"

Oh, screw him. Actually, screw him. How could he bring that up? One of the worst periods of your life. Your college career was at stake and he just casually drops that as if it were nothing? Fuck, he's such a cunt.

You don't reply to him, obvious that this struck a nerve so deep. Even Sunghoon is surprised to hear you shut up for once. A chilling silence overtakes the air as you continue to sit on the toilet, sinking in your detest.

Your leg begins to bounce and instinctively, you drag your puffy lip into your mouth, gnawing gently as you begin thinking. Thinking about how to retaliate. You're lost in thought when a past memory brims to the surface of your head.

This time, you're the one to do the short laugh, "Our third year...right. Just like how Na Sohee started that rumor about you being the worst lay she's ever had," you pull your attention over towards his stance, a more apprehensive attitude overtaking him, "Yeah. When she said you were sloppy and gross. That you repulsed her.” you practically spit those words back at him, then finish off your statement, “Which for the record, I never thought of it as a rumor. I'm sure you are shitty in bed, too."

Now that cuts deeply for Sunghoon, evident by the quick inhale he does and his chest raising high. Yeah, he wasn't expecting you to say that. Sohee knew she was wrong for spreading that about him, after he didn’t want to sleep with her. It was disgusting for her to even say such a thing. And there you are, smirking back at him as his jaw clenches.

He’s quiet for a second, then uncomfortably clears his throat, “…..whatever.”

Yeah. That’s what you fucking thought. You eye Sunghoon down menacingly while he becomes visibly twitchy in how he’s constantly moving around. It makes you glad to have made him so scattered, “Yeah, embarrassing isn’t it? Having your past throw in your face…”

He waits a beat before speaking up. Sunghoon’s not blind. He gets why’re saying this. He started the conversation, meaning he can’t necessarily fault you for bringing…that up. However, he feels his pride is getting the best of him. To which, he darts his eyes away and mutters, “Alright. I hear you.”

“Sooo fucking embarrassing. Oh, are your ears turning red, Sunghoon?” You lean your torso in further to tease him, though judging by the plain look he sports, he was clearly not amused by your joke.

“Very funny,” in a deadpan tone he blinks back at you, “You can cut it out now.”

But, you don’t. No, you decide to keep going. Because if there is one thing about you, once the topic of Park Sunghoon gets brought up, you can speak on it for hours. You bring up how the rumor must’ve made him feel so insecure about himself, and how his ego definitely took damages from hearing it. You mention how he probably hasn’t gotten fucked since then, because of how much of a fucking loser he is. Poor Sunghoon.

With each passing second, and each passing insult being hurled in his direction, Sunghoon feels himself dwindling down in composure. He’s already said all of the different variations of ‘You’re right’ without actually saying those surrendering words: ‘Okay, I get it’, ‘Yeah, got it’, ‘Okay’, ‘Yeah’.

And yet, you still ramble on. Like the floodgates are open and nothing’s being done to stop it. You dish out harsher words, “No one is going to ever-”

“Y/N. Just stop talking.” His voice is raised and even slightly reverberates between the walls of the bathroom. He casts a look and regards you with bewilderment. Whatever else that was about to leave your mouth immediately stops after his interruption.

You twist your body even more, so you’re holding eye contact; your knees slightly opening and closing because for some reason you can’t seem to sit still. While you think of a retort to say back, your vision goes away from Sunghoon and focuses on the nearby details. In doing so, you miss the begrudging glance down Sunghoon gives your thighs. He spots a brief glimpse of something white alongside it.

And then, he’s retreating his gaze. He’s not going to allow himself to get distracted. Especially from you. His mind was just cleared. Yes, it took a while for those previous thoughts to fade out, but he was finally escaping them. It would be catastrophic if he permitted himself to start thinking like that once again. To view you as anything more.

You become more vocal about your animosity, which then breaks his internal thinking, “Such a fucking loser. I can’t believe someone like you could even think you had a chance with Na Sohee. With your shit personality? Who the fuck do you think you are?”

In a matter of milliseconds, Sunghoon is back to fuming. Fuck, you just never know when to shut up, “I’m telling you. Seriously, stop it.”

The hotness in his chest is slowly consuming him, and you are doing absolutely nothing to ease him.

Instead, you simply fuel his anger. You put on a fake pout as the movements from your legs gradually widen. You even feel your dress start to hike up a bit, though not a single part of you had an ounce of care, “What? You’re gonna cry? Whiny baby gonna cry? Give me a break. You’re pathetic, truly. A pathetic piece of shit who’s gonna live a shitty life because you’re just too obsessed with yourself to be an actual, functioning person. Good riddance.”

Something snaps within Sunghoon that instantly makes his eyes go dark. You’ve done it. He told you to stop. He told you. The audacity you must have to blatantly disregard and talk down on him, makes him sick. Sunghoon gave you chances to stop. You didn’t. So, can he really be blamed for what’s about happen?

Similar to earlier, he doesn’t know what comes over him. His mouth moves before even a thought registers in his mind. With his eyes narrowing in vexation, and jawline prominent, Sunghoon erects himself from resting on the door. He’s now at his full height when he says the low, simple words, “Come here.”

You didn’t understand the threat that’s laced within the warning, so unbeknownst to you, you shoot up like a rocket taking off, “Gladly.”

There isn’t much room for you to go, but you do in fact make the quick trek to stand right in front of Sunghoon, whom of which harbors a dark and still expression. Even when you challenge him in stance, you glaring upwards to meet his eyes while he stares you down, you feel nothing. You’re not scared.

“What the fuck do you want?” You mutter through your teeth. Though, he heard you perfectly clear.

“What I want….” His wild eyes dart back and forth between your gaze, making sure you were really present for what he was about to say, “Is to put my hand around your throat, and make you shut the actual fuck up.”

And your heart drops.

You register his words- his threat. Scanning his face, you become aware of your heavy breathing because now, your heart is beating ten times faster. He stares at you right back. Coldly. Not a moment of regret is present in his eyes. He meant what he said.

What’s worse? You know that. Sunghoon’s not one to bluff, so you understand the words thrown at you were nothing short of the truth. Your heart begins to beat in your ears, with the acceleration almost deafening you. Yet, for some reason, you want to call him out.

You remain silent as you take one step closer to the fuming boy, scoffing. You don’t break eye contact, not once, not even as the pit of your stomach churns deliciously at his statement. It’s sadistic, how you already know the consequence to your upcoming response. But, that doesn’t stop you from going, in barely a whisper, “Then. Do it.”

Sunghoon’s unmoving, at least initially he was. Then, in a quick turn around, his hand goes flying in the air and grips onto your neck. Five fingers, all squeezing your skin. You immediately seize your breathing and your mouth falls agape, labored breaths tumbling from your open hole.

Sunghoon watches carefully your expression, and with all of his pent up thoughts, pent up feelings, pent up stress, all of it comes spilling out this moment, not another second was wasted, and soon he’s taking your lips within his.

A kiss is what you two share, if you can even call it that. His mouth envelopes your own, but there is no tenderness. No passion. You close your eyes, and follow down the rough path he started, the kiss increasingly becoming messier and sloppier.

Even with his hand around your pretty throat, you both continue kissing, the hatred and loathing seeping out from either ends consuming you two. There are no other thoughts. None of how wrong this is. Internally, you both sense the stirring feeling of regret, however, externally- lust and desire overrides it.

Until a brick of clarity hits.

Almost as if you two simultaneously awaken, you’re breaking away from one another. Sunghoon backpedals closer to the door and you and throw yourself towards the other end of the bathroom. You’re panting and so is he.

“What the fuck was that?” You grit, eyes scattering about. Did you seriously just make out with Park Sunghoon?

Sunghoon stays quiet as he tries to gather his own thoughts. Why did he just do that?

“You came in here to ambush me, didn’t you?” Throwing out an accusation, you find the kiss messed with your head more than you realized. It leaves you dizzy, disoriented, when you try to walk forward, you trip just slightly over your own feet.

He merely grunts, running a hand through his thick hair as a distraction, “Don’t flatter yourself, Y/N. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Yeah, clearly…” You try to regain your senses, putting one foot in front of the other, when you lose your balance once more and fall into the sink. A few items resting on the counter fly off, and you instantly sigh as Sunghoon scoffs lightly, saying, ‘Great job.’

You tell him to, ‘Fuck off’, then swiftly drop to your knees. The objects are all haphazardly placed around the floor, and so while reaching to obtain them, back arching in the process, your dress begins to raise. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Sunghoon.

His attention gets drawn to those same cotton white underwear he saw earlier this night. This time, they’re cheekily cutting into the lower fat of your ass, and another surge courses throughout him. Dammit. He’s averting his gaze, yet again. Each and every time, you rile him up. How? He’s already lost his mind when he went in to kiss you, how can he trust his thoughts to not progress things further?

Before he knows it, you’re rising to your feet and placing the items back on top of the counter, just as they were. You’re mumbling quietly to yourself during the duration, but Sunghoon could pick out snippets of your words: can’t believe, how did, fucking idiot. He almost wants to tell you to learn how to mutter better, though he knew you were doing it on purpose. You just love pissing him off.

You flip around towards him and in that moment he sees part of your lip tint is smeared off to the side; and for you, you realize part of his lips has been dyed a shade darker. At the recognition, you two glance off to opposite sides of the room. Stillness engulfs the air, until eventually you speak up.

“I can’t believe you did that.” Your voice is hushed, and this time when dragging your bottom lip in- you almost recoil from how your body throbs pleasantly at the taste. The taste of Sunghoon’s spit coats your skin.

“Well, it was an accident. So, calm down.” He throws his head against the door frame, still reeling in from his actions. Even though his mouth claims one thing, his fuzzy head somewhat misses the close interaction. And for some reason, Sunghoon doesn’t mind this fact.

You still can’t help but shudder from disbelief, “You’re fucking crazy.”

“Thank you.” He accompanies the sarcasm with a half-assed eye roll. He’s really not in the mood to hear you whine or complain.

“For real,” You slowly turn to face him, “You’re insane. And drunk.”

He raises an eyebrow tiredly, now looking at you through his eyelids, “So are you.”

“That’s not the point.” You don’t really know what the point is, just not that.

“Oh, really?” He stares at you with hooded eyes as those same thoughts from earlier slowly begin to enter his mind again. The longer he keeps looking at your unkempt stature, the more he finds that same itch fixing to be scratched. By you, “Then what is it? Hmm?”

There’s a change to how he’s looking at you, no, staring at you. It’s not the same as earlier, which was lustful yet hateful. Now, you think you only see one of them. You switch your eyesight to something else, hating the warm feeling that was arising in your pit, “The point is. I would never kiss you sober. Never.”

He’s quick to add on to that, “And I would never kiss you sober.”

“Good.” You say final. Despite whatever longing your body does for Sunghoon, you allow yourself to suppress those growing emotions. It was dangerous territory anyways. Why are you even in the bathroom still? Your urge to pee has been gone for some time now, and really the close proximity is making you enact on otherwise bottled up-

A ragged sigh flows from Sunghoon’s mouth, his skin tingling from a desperation that just has to be curated. Now that he’s gotten a little bit from you, he’s needy for the full thing. He’s needing you.

“Come back here.”

Without thinking, you turn to his wispy tone and immediately the two of you lock eyes. He’s waiting for you to do as he says, him standing still with a resting gaze. The intense contact has your stomach in knots, and you feel your legs shifting in suspense.

“Hey,” you watch his tainted mouth form the sentence, and unhurriedly he does a once over at your uneven dress. He then rakes his eyes back up to your face, and tilting his head down just the slightest bit, he lets out the faintest groan, “I said come back.”

Without thinking, movement starts up in your legs as you feel yourself walk over to him. The closer you get to him, though, the faster you notice your pace increases, until you ram straight into his body and capture his mouth inside of yours. The heat and intensity all comes rushing back to you, to you both, and you hate how good this feels.

As if you two had never parted from one another, the kiss transforms quickly back into the one from earlier, the same insatiable make-out. No longer a kiss, it’s a grueling act of roughness that has you melting. You’re moving your heads in a rhythm, tilting and parting when necessary. You get into a pattern of closing in on his lips before sucking gently on his lower one, opening your lips more, then repeating. When a low buzz passes through his mouth, happy with your treatment, you want to moan right back. You think you even felt it shoot straight down to your pussy.

Sunghoon takes a few steps forward, now moving away from the door. While still entangled in you, he begins walking you back until your ass hits the adjacent wall. When he slips his tongue slightly into your mouth, the action causes you to mewl accordingly. He’s kissing you with hunger, delving deeper and deeper into your whiny mouth, as more faint groans erupt from him. His body leans harshly into yours, and his pelvis pushes even harder against your own.

You relax onto the wall and feel his weight sink down on top of you, his heavy kissing making you addicted. You feel some growth develop below you, and soon a large bulge is pressing against your naked thigh. You’re so turned on by the feeling, the fact that you got him to this point, that even you could sense the slickness from your cunt beginning to coat your fabric.

Then, he’s tearing himself away from your lips, and immediately dives down for your neck. His mouth nips and bites at your skin, quickly finding a sole spot to focus on and delivers stimulation there. You lean your head to side and give him access to the area, your face grimacing from the pleasure. You go to moan from it, when he thrusts his clothed erection against your hips. He just couldn’t help himself, his cock is throbbing so fucking bad right now.

Your hands, which were messily laced throughout his hair, leisurely begin to work their way down. The two of you move in sync, as he’s nearly humping through the wall, and your hands travel all around Sunghoon. Tiny whimpers escape your throat from and every thrust, while his sucking provides the gratification you’ve been needing all night. You feel his tongue lap at your throat, but when his mouth encloses on itself, resulting in a bite, you scream out, “Ah- shit!”

Instantly, you grip his shoulders for support, him continuing to rut rather harshly into your lower half, while his teeth grab at your throat, essentially marking you up. He rotates his head until he’s near your sternum, kissing and licking at that area. You bite your lip when an ungodly whine nearly leaves you.

You’re breathing heavy as increasingly you become lost in the sensation overtaking you. Sunghoon’s worked his way down to your breasts, sucking only the top of both. He leaves dark marks strung about as he switches back and forth between the equally soft tissues. He stuffs his mouth full, basically coating your flesh in a immense amount of wetness.

When he lifts his head up for a brief second, first to make split eye contact with you, then he’s quick to raise up his hands up and yank down that little ass dress which hardly covered your tits.

Now with easier access, the moment he takes one of your flesh within his damp mouth, you gasps sharply, “Nrgh- my god. Sunghoon, fuck, that feels good.”

He doesn’t respond, though you feel his smile against your skin. Swirling and licking all over your nipple, he knows you’re feeling good. He senses it in the way you’re squirming underneath him, hands gripping his backside. He’s becoming increasingly aware of how much this is affecting you, your shaking body has proven that for him.

He pops over to your other breast, sucking fast and harsh for this one. Your hips begin to wiggle, the euphoria starting to become too much. Fuck, how did he make you so aroused in a matter of minutes? You continue to move about from his licking, when suddenly he pulls away. Removing himself from your supple mound, though staying eye level with it, he holds his lips mere inches away from the spot of pleasure.

He only peers up to look at you through his eyelashes, “Are you going to let me fuck you? I have to know what you feel like. Need to know what you feel like.”

You spew out a mewl from his words and feel yourself clench around nothing. Just him saying that makes your body weak. When going to answer him, a blatant, 'yes', so close from toppling out, you don’t realize a sneaky finger creeping its way underwear you dress, and pushing your underwear ever so gently to the side.

With your mouth already opened, a loud groan unintentionally bellows out from your gut, all in response to Sunghoon now circling your soaked clit. His eyes still remain on you, a whine abruptly follows after your groan.

“So, are you? You’re going to let me fuck you, right?” He asks yet again. The ripples of pleasure send you into a frenzy, your hips chasing alongside his digit. His adds a second finger to his stimulation, rubbing largely around your active bud, and you feel your eyelids fluttering open and shut.

You rest your head against the wall, a low grunt emitting from you, “Fuck..fuck you. You know-” before you can speak, he presses his digits into your thick skin, causing your eyes to shut tightly and pussy to contract, “Ah! You know I’m going to say yes.”

He keeps his hand right in the spot that produces the most pleasure for you, your body now shaking from the arousal. Oh, fuck. You’ve never been turned on so quickly before- and have been this close to cumming. He’s barely touched you, and you already feel the knot in your stomach beginning to loosen.

“Yeah?” he gives your cunt a rapid shake, wiggling the pads of his fingertips back and forth at speed that must be criminal to your already sensitive clit. Then, as you're seconds away from having your fastest orgasm, he alleviates you from the torture, “Okay, let’s go.” Unplunging his fingers, he removes his hand from under your dress.

“Wha….?” Shaking your head along the wall, you’re too much in a daze to even recognize what’s happening.

One second your drowning in ecstasy, when the next, Sunghoon’s guiding you over to the bathroom sink. He pulls you in front of him, then before you can think, he proceeds to bend you over the counter, your back flattening and ass spreading.

“Good, girl,” he murmurs more to himself, absolutely loving how easy it was to put you in this position. He knew deep down this is what your slutty ass would like. Who is he to stop you from having it? “Gonna fuck you nice and hard from right here. That okay?”

You go to say something, your head slowly lifting up, yet a hand just shoves your face down against the flat surface. It's horrible that you let out a whimper in response.

He wastes no time lifting your dress the rest of the way up- it had already failed to cover half of your ass, and with his free hand he trails your plush skin, preparing himself for when he wrecks you.

The light feel gives your cheek quickly turns into a harsh slap. Your skin jiggles from the impact and you scream as a reply. Sunghoon forces himself to stop a moan from slipping out, “Fuck, I already know you’re gonna take me so well.”

He does the action once more, with you moaning aloud once again, and then he’s ready. He’s practically already pantsless, from how fast he was able to pull them off. His rock, hard cock springs out proudly as Sunghoon relishes in the freedom, finally out of restraints. He’s been untouched for too long, and so he knew he needed you bad.

“Can already feel my cock pulsing, Y/N,” little clear beads bud out from the tip of his cock, just from looking at your sexy ass. He stroking his foreskin while hitting his lip. “You’re lucky I didn’t….”

He has to rethink what he was about to say. He was about to say, ‘Cum all over you’, though, he had plans for that later on. Don’t worry, you’ll see soon.

Aligning his hard-on with your entrance, and without sparing another minute, Sunghoon inserts himself straight and far into your pussy. The moment contact was made, the two of you move forwards slightly, with your head nearly hitting the wall. His cock is lodged so deep inside of you, you swear wholeheartedly, that he’s in your stomach.

“Oh, fuck!” Your eyes go white from the feeling. With him smushing your face hard against the counter, you were left practically immobilized when goes in for another thrust. And then another. And then another.

His hips soon fell into a rocking motion, and Sunghoon has to clench his ass from almost cumming inside of you the moment he sank himself into your forgiving hole, "Holy, fuck."

You feel yourself moving along with him, and your forehead scrunches from the indulgence, your face constantly changing and morphing the faster he pumps in and out of you. Your moans become choppy, disorganized, from the quick movements, “Ah- ah- oh, god…Sung…”

As your eyelids are squeezing shut, then popping wide open when a particularly sharp buck causes you to, you begin to realize that not once did he allow you time to adjust to his length. Just from the feeling, however, you already know that he’s big; but frankly, you did not care.

No, because immediately, you’re already succumbing to the growingly fast pace he’s only offered you. The kind that has you bouncing right back against him. And it feels so, so good.

He holds true to what he said earlier; he’s really is fucking you nice and hard. He's giving you everything you would want in a hook up session. And, you hate him for this. The fact that he felt he could just have free rein over your body. The way he didn’t even let you talk unless it’s to praise him. The fact that this is Park Sunghoon, completely drilling into your leaking backside with no remorse. All of it pisses you off so much.

But, you hate that you're also loving it so much. You love the sensation that builds within your core, and how it grows more and noticeable the quicker he thrusts. The more he keeps pounding into you, the more you feel the sensation change into utter bliss. The kind of pleasure that is going to have you finishing in merely seconds.

“Fu-uck, so fucking good,” He clenches his teeth while raising his head high, his hips continuing to buck deep inside of you, “So fucking good. Yeah, take me like the good brat you are.”

Sunghoon could get lost in this feeling forever. How you velvet walls wrap tightly, perfectly, around his throbbing, bulging cock. You squeeze out just the right amount of pressure that's making him see starts. It pleases him in a way he thinks he wouldn't be able to get anywhere else; from anyone else. Even if you irritate him to no fucking end, he’s always known you're good for something, something magnificent.

“Oh, fuck me,” His body contorts in half, folding in a similar manner to yours. His mouth hangs near you ear as he lets out a low buzzing moan, which falls delicately into your brain. “Oh. S-shit. You’re gonna let me cum inside you too, right? Right?”

He hammers his dick in and out of you, and soon, you find that he’s hitting your pleasure point. Now, it's game over. You begin more rounds of shrieking, mewing, crying; all because Sunghoon somehow found exactly what ruins you. You'll be done in no time.

You whine, “Stupid. Stupid- fucking... I hate you. Hate you so-”

“Answer,” he’s now wrapping his arms around your torso, his hips slamming harshly into your flesh. You better answer soon, or else he’s going to make the decision for you.

A sob bubbles out from your lips, though not a single tear flowed. You were so consumed in your rapture, it made you nearly wail.

“F-Fine! Fine, cum inside me, Sunghoon. Please, please-” a guttural moan gets in the way of you finishing and soon you grow limp. Little moans replace whatever it was you were going to say, and you wait for your orgasm to take over at any point.

You’re so aroused, you can’t even think straight.

Sunghoon’s heard enough. Oh, he’s heard plenty, actually. The moment he heard the slightest bit of confirmation, he relaxed himself into your body with the full intentions of you filling you to the brim with his sticky, thick load.

He’s already unclenched his ass and is just waiting for him cum to shoot out of him, which happens the moment he knicks the special spot that has his cock twitching and releasing hot fluids within your walls.

“Ohh, shit,” he grabs ahold of your hips and forces you close to him, as his dick spills out basically ounces of his semen all inside your pussy. He creams inside of you.

Your eyelids vibrate for the last time, "I'm- c-cumming..."

At the feeling of his orgasm, you quickly experience your own. Your eyes roll back. Your body becomes a trembling mess. Your cunt pulses so much that it’s milking Sunghoon dry, causing his overstimulated dick to shoot out spurts of remaining liquid.

“Fuck, Y/N, fuck.” Sunghoon’s hips stutter as he slows his thrusts down. You’re babbling you’re own incoherent sayings, still experiencing the after shakes of your explosive pop.

Although Sunghoon's climax is slow decreasing, him feeling his once hard cock now softening, he doesn't remove himself immediately.

No, he keeps himself inside of you, and relaxes his tired body, now drenched in both arousal and sweat, on top of yours. Both of you need a breather. And a breather was definitely taken. Which, after a few minutes of heaving panting, turned into a round 2, with this time, Sunghoon fucking you from the front.

While you two stayed in the bathroom for much longer than intended for, trying out different positions, or simply enclosing each other's lips over their own, there’s was an unspoken agreement. A peace treaty, as one might say.

Because, one thing is for certain.

Even if you allowed Sunghoon to continuously stick his dick inside of you round after round, or even as Sunghoon let himself get off to how horny you make him. Even as you two came over and over and over, consecutively…..

Neither of you would remember this night had ever happened, by the time morning came around.

Right?

- Bonus -

Your eyes crack faintly open, the sun shining directly onto you. It acts as a natural alarm for you, which, as you begin stirring awake and slowly sitting up, that fact almost annoys you.

You sit resting on a plush, comforting top, and only after a few bounces, you're able to register that you're in your on-campus apartment, on top of your bed. Though after a few more bounces, you quickly stop because the action begins to hurt your abdomen.

"Oh, god..." Croaking, you let out a good stretch. Then lazily, you swing your legs over your mattress and soon stand up. Your bladder is for some reason screaming at you to go pee.

Even as you shuffle softly into your bathroom, part of your brain must be turned off, because you sense that you're still so out of it from last night. You have no recollection. Of. Anything. You don't even have a memory of getting home, it was bad.

Quietly, you scold yourself for even allowing you to get so inebriated. You mentally said you wouldn't do this again, yet here you are, lost for your memories. You don't remember a single event from before pregamming with your friend, Jungwon.

Screw his stupid jungle juice. That's the last time you'll ever drink that abomination.

Flicking on the light to the bathroom, you find the artificial light creating an even greater headache for you, you squinting your eyes the whole way to the toilet.

Plopping down, you finally relieve yourself your, wipe, flush the toilet, then you're on your way back towards your sink, your head staying down the whole time.

You're mid-washing your hands, with you doing a brief glance upwards, when a quick scream leaves you from what you saw staring back at you.

Red splotches are marked all along your neck, some darker than others. It travels down, you can tell that much, though the random shirt you had on covers the rest.

You lean in closer to the mirror, extending your head up to see the full extent. Oh...is that a hand print? Your eyes go wide at this, the outline becoming much more apparent the longer you stared at the marking.

Just what the actual fuck happened last night?

» next

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captain-huggy-bear · 6 months ago

Text

Squish Time

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Anxiety, panic attacks, mental health

Summary: Sometimes there is only one way to regulate your nervous system and that is squish time.

Notes: In honour of my anxiety disorder and the fact that sometimes I just want a hockey player to squish me into a mattress to help my brain regulate itself. 👍

2 fics in one day? More likely than you think.

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

You've had anxiety for as long as you can remember, more of your life had been spent worrying about seemingly silly little things, adrenaline buzzing through your system, than not. It's something you've learnt to deal with and over the years, the work you've put in has made it less of an issue. You have your mechanisms to minimise it, to cope, to enjoy your life and keep panic attacks to a minimum but that doesn't mean that they don't ever happen. Sometimes they happen without any explanation, like your body has been storing up anxiety for a random moment.

It hits you slowly, a winding sort of buzzing through your veins like a thousand bees have decided to make their way into your body and start an orchestra or brass band. It's a familiar but unpleasant sensation that has you wandering around the apartment hands tapping any surface you find in an attempt to expell the sudden burst of adrenaline.

Your heart races, palpitations that feel so strong in your chest that you're certain your heart wants to leap out of your chest and run halfway across the world. Sounds feel dull, deadened like you're underwater, a muffled sense of everything being distant, not there, not with you, taking over. Then the sick feeling hits, like you might be sick at any moment, queasiness hitting you just to add to the other issues. Despite it all, you try to manage it on your own, even knowing Quinn is a room over, you don't want to bother him. Instead you pace and pace and pace even as you struggle to breathe.

It's your pacing, the sound of your feet urgently moving back and forth, around in circles that has Quinn popping his head out of the bedroom where he'd been sorting laundry.

Green eyes assess you, trailing from head to toe. You're biting your lip so hard he's certain you're going to break skin, while your entire body is shaking as you pace, like you've drunk 4 redbulls in quick success or just run a marathon. But it's the way you cycle through various stimms, fingers tapping together in rhythm to try and ground yourself, as your chest heaves in an attempt to get more air in your lungs that really tips him off.

"You okay, baby?"

Your reaction is instant, a sharp turn towards him, eyes wide, head shaking back and forth as tears well in your eyes like you might just cry the Niagra Falls. You look so fucking fragile and he hates it more than anything.

"Okay, okay, c'mere..." He's over to you in three long strides, pulling you tight against his chest, pressing your face into him. You're shaking so hard that it feels like you're a phone on vibrate, like you might blow away in the wind.

It's not everyday you get like this, a rare occurance more so lately, but Quinn's seen it enough to know his options, the sorts of things that do and don't help. Sometimes it just takes his arms around you, a tight grip, as his hands rub paths up and down your back. Sometimes merely the sense of being held for a few moments, the smell of his cologne and the beat of his heart under your ear is enough to ground you.

He can sense that today that's not enough. The way you shake doesn't let up, not even after two minutes of him holding you, there's this calm collectedness to him that hits. A sense that there's a problem, he needs to find a solution and he needs to do so without panicking. Call it his background as a big brother or maybe just being captain of the Canucks, but he sets his own worry aside, his own panic bricked up into a little room.

"You need squish time?" Quinn's voice would be loud to anyone else, heck its loud to his own ears, but muffled to you. He knows how the panic muffles everything for you, the way sounds are quieter, duller, you've told him time and time again that you feel deaf when you're in a panic, so he forces his voice louder to accommodate.

The instant you nod your head, he's moving you to the bedroom, shoving laundry on the floor, not worrying about the mess and helping you to lie on the bed on your back. He's careful to pop pillows under your head and neck for support. There's very little preamble, no real hesitation before he's crawling all 180 pounds of himself up and over you, flopping down ontop of you like a living weighted blanket.

The first time you'd asked for squish time he'd been terrified that he'd hurt you. That you're shallow breathing would be made worse by him compressing you into the mattress, but over time he'd learnt that it was needed sometimes. There was some sort of natural reset that happened to your body when he laid on top of you, a sort of nervous system do over that helped you to ground yourself when all else failed. Squish time was like the fail safe.

For you it was grounding, all encompassing, to feel the weight of Quinn ontop of you in that moment, the way the mattress rose to meet you, the sensation of the blankets under you, his clothes atop you. The weight of him pressing down until you felt surrounded by Quinn. It helped you to calm yourself, so you were thankful in that moment for the 180 pounds of hockey player squishing you, the way your arms wrapped around his waist, the sensation of his hoodie under your fingertips. You were thankful for the way the smell of his cologne and your laundry detergent surrounded you, how you could feel your breaths pushing up against his chest, the resistance calming, the way his face pressed into the crook of your neck like he could use his entire body to shield you from the outside world.

Each breath you took underneath him helped, each moment of being squashed was grounding. You found it easier to focus on the fact you were there, you were safe, you were okay. Each moment drained the adrenaline from your system like Quinn had opened the bee hive to let the swarm of bees escape your bloodstream. Like he'd physically removed the adrenaline himself.

Quinn doesn't even consider moving until he can feel your entire body go boneless, relaxed, till your breaths are even and slow. Even then he just lifts his head to look at you, arms bracketing either side of your head.

"Better?" You look exhausted, in the way you usually do after a panic attack, the influx of adrenaline having worn off and leaving you completely drained.

"Mmm, much better, thank you." You blink at him almost sleepily, but your smile is thankful, Quinn can't help but push forward and press a lazy kiss to your cheek, still keeping most of his weight on you.

"Don't need to thank me, baby, it's what i'm here for. 'm always going to look after you." He means it. He's pretty sure he has 2 goals in life: play good hockey and look after you. The latter he hopes he does for his entire life, it never feels like a chore to help you, he enjoys doing it. He likes that he can calm you down from a panic and that he knows how to make you smile after a long day. You make him feel needed, wanted.

"Can we just lie like this for a little longer?"

"Course. No rush, baby." Quinn settles himself back down on you, face pressed into your neck as your own does the same to him. The two of you lie like that for a while, until the weight of him stops being comforting and becomes a little too claustraphobic and constricting.

#huggy bear writes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes #quinn hughes/reader #nhl x reader #nhl imagine

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hazelfoureyes · 1 year ago

Text

Alastor in Rut (one shot)

Rutting Alastor x Fem Rabbit Reader

Less than confident and lacking much in the way of assertiveness, you find hell to be scary. But, a very kind and helpful deer demon has a solution! Just in time, as an unexpected rut hits him and he feels the need to reel you in.

this is pure self indulgence. Shout out to @jazzmasternot , @lustylita , @sugoi-writes , and @minkdelovely for keeping me sane and horny (with art lol)

「Warnings/Promises: actual warning - mentions of accidental vehicular homicide and reader's death, Marathon Smut, p in v, finger almost in a?, anal is considered, knotting because fuck it, attempt at breeding, womb flooded, not dubcon but everyone in the hotel thinks it is, slightly repetitive fucking because he wont waste semen on other holes, Alastor would fuck anyone but you’re the most amusing, Alastor doesn’t think he’s the good guy which is honestly kinda cute, deadass talk about making you carry his fawns?? Why is it so hot?? Knock me up deer man bleat bleat bitch, implied previous relationship with a human man, plans to cuckold your ex, heat, blue fire isn’t hot, you’re tricked into a deal with Alastor, kinda size kink, demon Alastor, minor aftercare, a little sexual choking (as a treat)」

Hey--- we're all here for something. This is 10000 words, 5300 or so is smut. Smut starts at the bright green divider for you impatient and horny deeries.

MINORS YOU KNOW THE DRILL DNI

The line for reception was long, but that was to be expected. After the extermination ended early and Adam killed on television by a maid, the Hazbin Hotel had been busy. Or so you overheard others saying. You’d only been in hell a day, lucky enough to catch the advertisements and hear the gossip for the hotel soon after your descent.

You recognized the princess immediately, but not that tall man beside her. He wasn’t doing anything, just staring and smiling. Was he friendly? Were there friendly people in hell? Truly friendly. Not high school girl friendly. Or hungry witch friendly. He had witch vibes.

“Hiya welcome to the”, she took a deep breath in, “Hazbin Hotel! I am Charlie! This is Alastor! What did you do to bring you to hell? Gotta know so we can cater your redemption activities to your sins!”

She was staring at you so happily, pen over paper. Your eyes nervously shot to the man, who leaned down in response.

“I fell asleep driving and killed someone, and myself.”

Everything about Charlie was frozen still except the sudden glossiness forming over her eyes. “You… you… were you like, a thief or… did you…… push old ladies into traffic?”

You shook your head no.

“Gluttonous? She asked.

“No, I wasn’t a fan of overindulgence.”

“Prideful, then?”

“Unfortunately… I don’t think too highly of myself. Living or dead.” Your hand came to your down turned rabbit ears, sad and limp. Even in death you weren’t the right kind of anything.

“Uhh,” Charlie clicked her pen furiously again and again, “Lustful?”

“Just the one partner. My highschool sweetheart.”

A sweat was forming on Charlie’s brow, “Sloth?”

“I did fall asleep behind the wheel… but it was from working 25 hours of overtime this week.”

Charlie put the pen down, “I don’t think you belong in hell. You made an accident. That’s not how sins should work…”

Your eyes bore holes into the desk, avoiding eye contact, “I don’t think heaven cares much about that.”

“Poor thing. Let’s circle back, Charlie.” Alastor’s large hand rested on your head, patting twice.

She nodded, “Good call. I’ll just,” her tongue stuck out as she began to write, “make a new category just for you! Other.”

Yeah that made sense, you thought. That was fitting. This truly was hell. Finally you stood out, as the one who didn’t fit in. You supposed that’s what a wallflower deserved for murder.

“Follow me little one.” The tall Alastor instructed you as he snatched a key from the hook and walked past you.

Happily. Small tail uncontrollably swishing as you followed a foot behind him.

A hum of approval, Alastor noticing the distance you kept.

“You obey instructions well.”

You always did. “Thank you.” Tiny and soft, your response made his shadow shift and smile.

It wasn’t a compliment, but the fact you took it as one interested him. Subservient.

Fun.

“I take it that you really were a good girl in life, weren’t you?” He swiveled on his heels to face you, the sudden change causing your face to run into his lower chest.

A song of apologies fell from your mouth as you backed up, tripping over your own pathetic attempts at platitude and falling back onto your ass.

He was tall before but now he towered over your, hand outstretched to help you up. You offered a thank you before taking it.

Clawed fingers tightened around your palm. Not letting you pull away. “You’re new to hell, right?”

A glance around, no one else in the hallway, “Is it obvious?”

“Yes. But also, you mentioned work this week.”

A nod, “It’s been maybe a day.”

Delicious.

“Could I offer you some advice?” He leaned down, hand tightening further. Wide eyed and a little frightened with the change in atmosphere, you just nodded again. “It’s very dangerous out there for little prey animals like yourself.”

“Aren’t you also a prey animal?”

His hand uncurled.

A moment of tension, Alastor leaning down further.

A strange sound was coming from his microphone, the best approximation you had was a car radio going haywire skipping through the channels.

“Room 243!” His body popped up and he held the key out for you. The hallway lights seemed to be glowing brighter now.

You grabbed the key, “Thank you!”

Two fourty three was just past him. A small tremble kept you from getting the key in on your first and even second try.

You didn’t even stop to turn on the light, just pushing the door closed behind you as soon as your body was through the threshold.

The relief barely left with a sigh when you heard it, “You know…”

Frozen, your eyes adjusted to the darkness enough to see the shining of his red and pink eyes in front of you.

“I’m somewhat of a deal maker. For a small price, I could help you. Perhaps, you’d like a change of appearance?” His voice seemed to be coming from the walls, above and beside you all at once.

Something lifted a floppy ear. But his eyes were too far from you for it to have been his own hands. A small scream as you smacked at the appendage.

“What do you say? I can use a little magic to make you happier with your new form.” A dark whisper into your right ear.

Your hands flew to your head before you dropped to your knees to escape the hidden things touching you.

“What do you want?” To your left now. “Let’s make a trade. A deal.” Above your head.

His eyes were gone. Just darkness and a soft laugh echoing around you.

Your mind was reeling through possible answers, what did you want? At that moment? In general?

An answer tumbled out, too quietly.

“Hmm?” His eyes reappeared closer to you and glowing a bloody red. “Speak up, my ears are quite a bit higher than your mouth.”

A second attempt, “Safety. I wanna be safe.” The laughter got louder, mocking you without words.

“A little tougher of an ask.” The sound of something slithering near your feet made you pull your knees tighter to your chest. “But! I’m here to please. In exchange for protection from the more nefarious of hell’s citizens I’ll need something worth my while.”

Of course, that is how deals work, right? A promise with compensation.

“I don’t have any money, or possessions yet. Maybe I should try again later?” You were lost in the light of his stare and found the darkness deepening around him.

A considered hum, “Well, you’re already dead. You’ve no need for your soul. Damned as it is, give it to me instead. To keep safe. And I’ll always answer your calls for rescue when in harm's way.”

Why would…what use was a soul, you wondered. Was he right? But if he wanted it, surely it had value. You were too new to this world, scared to say yes and part with what little you had.

At the risk of angering the demon in the darkness of your room, you whispered to yourself and hoped he would hear it, “I think I shouldn’t.”

Hissing in your ear, “Disappointing.”

The lights flickered on, an empty room. A bed. A nightstand. A closet. A bathroom. No tall smiling dealmaker.

A tremor stayed in your hands through the night.

To your surprise, when you ran into Alastor the next day he was more than kind. He was eavesdropping when you asked Charlie if the hotel needed any staff. Not only did you want to be of use, you were hoping to earn some money. He quickly slid beside Charlie suggesting things you could do.

Wow, you thought. He didn’t hold a grudge at all. Maybe he had been trying to help before?

It took a few weeks, but you found a groove. You were a floater between the staff, helping Husk with the restocking of his bar, following behind Niffty with supplies her tiny arms couldn’t carry, and keeping notes for the activities Charlie held. It was vital for you to feel needed and everyone seemed happy to have you around. Hell wasn’t so bad.

“Dear,” Alastor found you holding a basket of towels in the hallway on a rather standard weekday, “I need an errand runner. Do you mind?”

You had been finding Alastor’s presence enjoyable, a little secret you held. He was always smiling, which made you smile in turn. And his manners, well, perfect. You couldn’t understand why such a sweet man was in hell, but then you considered you were also in hell. Mistakes happen, perhaps he was also damned by technicalities.

Not that you would ask him, you barely spoke a word to the deer demon. Every time he was around you your throat would close up. Oftentimes you would pull your hands behind your back to shield the wiggle of your too-honest tail.

When he would speak to you, you would get so focused on the sound of his voice and watching his mouth move you’d actually not hear a damn thing he said. You must have looked like an absolute airhead, always replying, “What?” every time he finished a statement.

“Hellooo, anyone home in there?” He knocked gently on your skull. Ah, those big hands again. He watched the pink bloom across your cheeks, your hands coming to your ears to pull them down as your mind wandered off. A snap of his fingers finally brought you back.

“Sorry, what?” Your eyes were bright as you finally made the journey all the way up to his face.

“Welcome back. I need some stuff picked up from a shop downtown. I can’t leave right now, mind hopping over for me?” The grin he offered you made you melt.

“Of course!” That damn tail shaking behind you, “What am I picking up?”

He waved his hand, “Not important, it’ll be all wrapped up and waiting.” The radio effect of his voice grew, “I’ll write down the address.”

Terrible handwriting. You could barely read it, but didn’t want to insult him so you just nodded as he followed you to the doors. Pausing, you realized it was your first time leaving the hotel alone.

“What’s wrong? Not up to it?”

You shook your head, “No! I can do it. Thank you.”

A pounding in your chest made you question if you were actually dead. But despite your concerns, no one bothered you beyond some catcalling and intense glares. Staring at the paper, you struggled to decipher the address. Was that a 7 or a 1? A 4 or a 9…? You were in the general area, the street name lined up and the first couple numbers of the address too.

You brought the paper closer to your face, maybe if you really inspected it you could figure it out.

A shriek, dropping the paper to felt a small goblin-like creature pushing at your knees. Another, then another, began to appear from the shadows of the street. Black and white little creatures pushing and pulling at your legs until you tumbled over.

“Help!” You thought it was a shout, but it came out as a soft spoken request, the tone itself adding a ‘please’ to the end.

They weren’t hurting you, just knocking you over every time you tried to stand up like grade school bullies. You managed, the creatures relenting momentarily before a stockier one materialized. A step back, what did they want? Money? You pulled out your wallet and opened it but the large one smacked it to the ground.

That quick heart skipped a beat when your back hit against something solid. As your head bent backwards, you could see those red and pink eyes looming over you.

“Oh dear. Trouble already?”

You could cry. You did cry, a little, at the sight of a familiar face. With a flourish of his hands, those previously unseen tendrils whipped from his back and flung the aimless attackers away.

Rescue! You hugged his waist, a chorus of ‘thank yous’ and ‘Oh, Alastor!’ into his chest.

“Now now, can’t even be a proper task rabbit. You really do need some safeguarding.” He peeled you off him, brushing his coat off. Your mind thought back to the offer. “And I don’t see my purchase… didn’t complete the task either?”

You shrunk, you’d entirely failed him. His smirk was one sided, eyes half lidded and expression dramatically disappointed. Alastor sighed and turned to walk away from you. You’d let him down. He’d been nothing but accommodating and gentle.

“I’m sorry! Alastor!” You grabbed his wrist, eyes shut so you didn’t see the green glow of arcane symbols floating up around him. “Can I please have that deal? Please. I’m sorry, you have my soul as payment.”

Painless, selling your soul. With a handshake, a little light show, and a whirling of magic, you had done it.

“Excellent choice!” Alastor patted your head, “I’ll come to your aid when you’re scared for your life! Aaaand in return, your soul is mine. Easy peasy, yes?”

Fine, not an issue in the slightest. “Do I need to do anything?”

“About what?” His eyes wandered to inspect his fingernails.

“My soul.”

A barking laugh, “No. You’re tied to me now, dear. As for my end, just call my name when you’re in danger and I’ll,” a flourish of his talons, “rescue you.” His smile strained as he peered down at your little face, “Why are you crying?”

“I’m so happy to have the help, thank you Alastor! You really are just, amazing. Your mother raised you right.” Your hands were holding your cheeks, grateful and feeling a little less alone.

The mention of his mother made his back straighten, a bloom in his chest he knew all too well to be pride. Finally, someone was vocalizing his better qualities. Well, other than Charlie. But impressing Charlie was like making a dog think you’d thrown a ball. Just a little quick whirl of your hands and a couple sweet words with a smile and she’d be all wagging tail as she ran to retrieve nothing.

But he supposed you were very much like Charlie, easily tricked and distracted. Had you really not noticed those goons were his? Or that the address wasn’t real? Were you stupid or naive? His head fell to the side unnaturally as he watched you talk. He wasn’t listening, though. He took in your features, slight but average. His hand came out absentmindedly and felt at one of your long and limp ears. He didn’t see you blush or caught how you stiffened.

Naive. Terribly naive.

Perfectly usable.

He dropped your ear and turned to leave. “I won’t rescue you twice in one day. Best to follow me home if you value your life.”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

You hadn’t told anyone about the deal, a secret for yourself to keep. Partly because you were embarrassed you needed the help, and partly because you had been warned extensively to not make a deal with the deer demon. Everyone had such a peculiar idea of Alastor, it seemed to you. Even after making a deal, he was still…Alastor. Always offering a joke, or playing something jaunty in the shared spaces. You could vent and whine and Alastor would hum as he read. Always offering a gentle pat to the head when you were sad or did something he liked.

So when Alastor suddenly left the group in a sweat, hands shaking and body rocking slightly side to side, you were quick to follow behind him. He bumped off the walls a couple of times before making it to his room and falling forward past the threshold.

You waited for the door to close before running down the hall and knocking.

“Are you alright?” You pressed your cheek against the wood and listened for any reply.

Alastor was still on the floor when you knocked, which worked out well. He leaned against the door, ears flat with his condition. He took a deep breath, voice dropping an octave and carrying easily to you, “Just— an out of season rut. Unexpected and unwelcome. Without any does nearby it’s quite odd.”

“Oh, are deer not like rabbits? Rabbit does are always in estrus! Mating actually triggers their ovulation. Neat, huh?” Silence, Alastor’s ears turned forward focusing on every other word.

Does, always, oestrus

Mating, triggers, ovulation

“I had pet rabbits when I was little. Isn’t that funny though? That they’re also called does.” You worried he thought you were weirdly interested in rabbit sex. “We had them as pets. So….,” a silence you misinterpreted as awkward.

Alastor tapped a long claw on the door before dragging it down the wood. A line was etched behind, “Is that so?”

You knelt down to get comfortable, “How long will it last?”

“Ah, hard to say. I've only suffered through a few. Alone, perhaps a week.”

“That sounds terrible.”

“With an appropriate partner, a deer demon would rut for two days. One for mating with his doe, one for guarding his doe from rivals who could still interfere with conception.”

His doe. You both found your throat running dry at the words.

You nodded, “Oh wow, I guess that’s why you always see bucks locked together in fights.”

“Precisely.”

“But...can sinners actually conceive?” You gulped, the idea was a little naughty to you. The entire conversation was actually making you uncomfortable. The kind of discomfort that made your breath pick up. The kind of discomfort that shifted to hunger with just a few words or a well placed look.

“No, but that doesn’t matter. Once fully in the hold of a rut or heat, demons aren’t motivated by logic.”

You nodded again, forgetting he couldn’t see you. “Oh okay…” the idea of Alastor rutting into his own hand desperate to fill a womb made your knees come together. “Must be hard for you. As an asexual.”

A hum, confusion breaking his creeping fog for a second, “A sexual what?”

“Nevermind.” You shook your head, shaking off the topic with the motion.

Alastor could smell your arousal wafting under the door. A feverish chill ran through him, drawing the fog back into the recesses of his mind.

“Well… I’ll let you rest. I know you can’t call me, so I’ll stop by to see if you need anything.”

His mouth opened to correct you— he could call you in a sense, and he didn’t need help as he had minions he could summon with a snap.

“That sounds lovely, what a helpful thing you are.” The words came out strained, his jaw tensing. How much longer could he hold out? The thinnest lie held in place that he’d suffer alone through the week. Already compromised by his errant shadow, flat against the carpet beneath your thighs.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Within hours Alastor was lying on the floor with his limbs splayed out. The sweating was the worst, not the heat. He could feel ticklish drops dripping down his stomach. His hair was sticking to his face, adding to the mounting overstimulation. Wet, hot, clothes clinging to his body like a second skin. A clawed hand pulled off his bow tie. His fingers shook too much to handle the tiny buttons of his shirt so he gave up and ripped it open.

It fell into a pile with the bow tie and soon his pants and socks joined. Sitting up on his elbows he looked down at his underwear, he wasn’t hard yet but he knew the smallest touch could trigger what could be days of painfully swollen erections.

He fell back to the floor with a huff, hands raking through his hair and gripping his ears a little rougher than he’d meant to. A gasp, red tipped talons feeling down his ears and slipping around his already growing antlers.

Alastor’s eyes rolled back, strong hands squeezing his prongs, tugging them forward as he imagined anyone riding him. Using his appendages as a handle while he bucked up into them. His hips were already moving, lower back rising off the carpet as he rolled his body up into the imaginary mate he despised his desperation for. His mind flicked through faces. Husk’s pained but satisfied expression, Vox’s tears as he whined, Carmilla’s lusty eyes paired with surrendered sighs. He lingered briefly on Angel’s smirk as his hands roamed down his chest and his thighs in tandem.

But through the darkness of his imagination he saw two watery and timid orbs, tears welling as eyebrows rose in confusion. Pleasure making the features soften. Soft. Soft velvet ears he could tug on in turn, a little bushy tail he could grip.

A doe.

The only doe he knew of in the hotel.

The radio on the writing desk flipped through channels, piecing together the sounds to form the words he was trying to forget, a magazine ransom note cut from sound bites.

....out the windows

....always and forever,

....in yesterday.

....rusty cage

May you never....

Hating how I....

....pull the trigger

....say you love me?

....congratulations

The relevant sounds spiked in volume, mocking him.

He walked to the radio and hurled it across the room. Aggression. Already he was losing himself to hellish biology.

A minor part of him didn’t want to use you. You always looked at him with such adoration, which he’d come to look forward to when others weren’t giving him adequate attention. You also seemed to genuinely see him as a friend, as much as he didn’t directly feed that idea.

But using people was how the world worked. Everyone was using someone. You had said how much you wanted to help… Alastor leaned on the desk with both hands and watched the sweat fall onto the wood and leather writing surface.

How was his body leaking from every pore but his mouth was so dry?

His shadow reached for the thrown radio, the light flickering on. That dark doppelgänger using a song to offer another piece of torment for him, ‘you ain't never caught a rabbit and you ain't no friend of mine.’

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

You had been speaking to Husk about what you could do to help prepare the bar for the weekend when a green light began to form around your neck.

“Did you— Did you make a deal with him?!” Husk dropped the dish rag, hands shooting to your shoulders, “Hold on! I’ll— fucking hell. Fuck!”

“Wait what’s wro-,” you were standing inside an unfamiliar room, just at the door, before you could figure out why Husk was panicking. Looking up, you locked eyes with Alastor. The room was dark, curtains drawn shut and ceiling lights off. A slight glow from a roaring blue fire to your left. His eyes were those familiar glowing red orbs in the darkness of his large canopy bed. “Oh, Alastor.” You finally noticed the third light source. A neon green large linked chain was wrapped around his fist. Following the squared interlocking pieces down the length of the bed, across the carpet and up as you looked down to find it ending on you.

Your hands touched your neck, feeling the cold metal of your collar.

Alastor took a deep breath in, a shaky exhale following.

Oh. You’d heard from Angel how his deal with his boss often materialized as a series of smoke rings linked and attached to him.

Before you could question it any further you were sliding across the floor, hands and feet struggling to find purchase as he reeled you toward the bed. Alastor lifted you by the glowing chain around your neck, evidence of the deal you so easily accepted.

“Can a deer breed a rabbit?” He mused, breath ragged as he struggled to remain in control of his impulses, “Doubtful. But I’ll give it my sincerest efforts, regardless.”

“Alastor-! You don’t want to do this, it’s just your rut.” You pulled back, legs kicking and piling up the blankets. It was fruitless.

He laughed, incorporeal radio studio audience joining along. You couldn’t stop from glancing at the straining fabric of his black boxers. Setting a small hand on his chest to better attempt to push away you gasped, “You’re burning up!” The fear of the moment left you entirely, replaced with deep concern.

He gripped your wrist with his free hand, not letting go of the chain in his right, “The fever is unbearable. My mind is slipping away.”

“Is this normal?!” Your hands came to his cheeks, his forehead, his neck. You remembered how your grandmother always checked your temperature, and pressed your lips to his sweat slicked brow. “You poor thing…”

When you pulled back you were met with the bright and blown out pupils of Alastor’s gaze. He was staring at your mouth, the green of his magical connection to you reflecting off his glossy eyes.

“Poor me.” He’d been sitting with loosely crossed legs but got on his knees. His face rose until he was looking down at you, hand now holding your chin, “You promised to help me.”

Your eyes were looking everywhere but his face.

His hand on you tightened, cheeks squished together as he pulled your head up, “Are you a liar?” Of course not. His hand made your head shake left to right.

The trembling of your hands was obvious to you both. A cruel laugh, “Do I scare you, little bunny rabbit?”

In life you weren’t popular. No one hated you, but, well, you never had much luck attracting the men all the women seemed to want. No one of power or consequence ever paid you any mind.

Alastor was scary. But were you scared? Someone strong wanted you. Someone people feared was saying you were good enough for them.

Tears welled in your eyes as you felt your tail wiggling side to side. Your body always betrayed you. Your own death had been the doing of your body’s inability to listen to you.

He couldn’t see the tail but the way your face screwed up in shame tipped him off. Letting go of your face, super heated finger pads slipped down your back. He slotted your tail between two fingers. There was no reason for it to be such an intimate action, but your entire body trembled.

Another deep sigh from Alastor, closing his fingers around the base and pulling gently. A test. Your head dropped to hide your reaction.

“Ah ah, eyes on me.”

He hummed happily as you did as you were told.

But the moment was cut short, you jumping when a rough knock came to the door.

“Alastor!” Vaggie was turning the knob despite knowing it was locked, “Is she in there? Open the fucking door.” A kick, a threat, “Now.”

“I’ll need your answer.” He leaned back onto the pillows piled behind him. Making a point, he lifted your chain and dropped it. It dissolved into nothingness before it could hit the bed.

“I’m here!” You said barely loud enough to be heard through the wooden door. Your eyes were drawn to Alastor’s lap as he pushed down his underwear to free his deep red cock.

His hand tenderly touched his base, hissing with the contact.

“For fuck’s sake Alastor!” Vaggie yelled, “You have three seconds to open this fucking door before I rip it off the hinges.”

Alastor’s head fell back with a moan, stifled as he bit down on his lip.

“One!”

As his fingers slid up his length and touched his leaking slit his entire body violently shook.

“Two!”

He opened his eyes just barely. You hadn’t noticed the antlers on his head were quite a few times larger than normal.

“I’m okay!” You shouted, the loudest noise you’d made since your death, but not the loudest you’d make by the end of the day.

Silence.

Mumbling.

Vaggie spoke up again, “Are you sure? Come out and talk to us first.”

His hand began stroking himself, precum spilling down. Something soft and fuzzy was settling over the front of your brain.

You scooted backwards off the bed, eyes staying on his lap. The light color of his inner thighs. The little bit of red and black tail you could see squished down under his ass.

“Hello!” You opened the door just enough to shove your head through. “Hi there gang.”

Husk’s arms were crossed and his foot tapping, “Are you really okay? No matter the deal he can’t fucking make you stay in there with him.”

While you weren’t sure that was actually true, it wasn’t an issue, “I wanna stay! He needs someone to watch his fever and-,”

A brief rush of cool air up your shirt before a hot mouth was pressing into the small of your back.

Vaggie’s eyes narrows, “and?”

“And! And. Yes.” Your eyes shut, “and take care of cleaning up after him.”

They shared a glance, “He can just make his little creatures do it.”

A surprisingly long tongue ran up your spine.

“Oh my god.”

“What?”

“Oh my god! No! I couldn’t let my friend,” you sucked your bottom lip in as his hands wrapped around your waist and undid the button of your pants, “rely on strangers.”

Husk sighed, “Alright, just… like, call us or something? If you need anything.”

You began to nod but the door was shut and locked by Alastor before you could reply.

₊✧˚﹕︶︶︶﹕૮₍ ⸝⸝´ ꒳ `⸝⸝ ₎ა﹕︶︶︶﹕ ˚✧₊

Your face hit the wall as you lost balance when he pulled down your pants and panties with one yank and buried his face into your crotch. His tongue licked at the wetness pooled at your entrance.

Any moans would probably still have been heard by the other two so you tried to keep quiet. Alastor didn’t seem to care though, growling into your skin.

The fever seemed it would spread skin to skin, but when he pulled away you found your body quickly cooling. Taking a moment to breath before turning back, you wondered if you’d made a great decision or a terrible one. When you turned, Alastor was settling back into his previous spot. “I could rip the rest off of you or you could undress yourself.” He wasn’t looking at you as he said it. You made quick work of removing your shirt and returning to the bed as you had before.

"Turn around."

You turned to face the door.

"On your hands and knees."

You paused briefly, but did so.

As you bent over, little tail high and trembling, Alastor’s clawed thumbs spread open your bottom lips. Perhaps it was embarrassment or just the nerves but you were twitching open and close.

You heard a low “Fuck” before the feeling of heat dripping onto you made you jerk forward. One of his hands came to your shoulder to hold you in place, the other kept your hole open as his seed continued to dribble down onto it.

He hadn’t been trying to cum, but his body was already responding to the opportunity before it; a breedable and submissive doe. His cock trigger-happy at the sight of your pussy, inside pink and clenching.

A tiny yelp as he fell over you, joining you in an all fours position but larger body caging yours between his limbs. He laughed again when the back of your head hit him square in the chest.

“You are uselessly small.” His body rumbled over you. “Clever girl to make a deal for protection.”

A burning stiffness slid down your folds. You could feel from even how little contact he made he was too big. Was it a bad time to tell him you’d only had the one partner on earth? A rather boring but sufficient sex life. If Alastor was hoping for a sex kitten he’d be deeply disappointed in you.

He hummed imagining dropping his weight and feeling you fruitlessly squirm under him.

“Mating triggers ovulation, I recall you said. I just need to fuck you into it, right sweetheart? Maybe if I do a good enough job,” his hands gripped the flesh of your ass, “your body will actually respond. Your belly will swell with the evidence of my virility.” Both hands slipped down your hips and came to nestle above your womb, tenderly caressing the protective layer of fat there, “could your little form handle it?” Little form? Not quite. But to him everyone was little. Claws leaving faint red marks as he dragged them up your ribs, around your sides and pressed your back down to get your chest into the bed and ass in the air.

A squeak, your legs flailing with what little motion they had as you turned your head, “Well that’s for actual rabbits not--.”

His hand came over your mouth, “Shhh, there's safety in the quiet. Don’t you know? We’re most vulnerable when we mate.” On the utterance of the word you’d been avoiding to even think about Alastor’s still hard cock squeezed its way into you. Your body was willing, but your pussy wasn’t ready to accommodate him. Not that your living partner had been small, but he wasn’t a seven foot tall rutting deer demon. And with height came a girth and length you’d not anticipated. You had seen it, yes, but that didn’t translate to much once Alastor was entering you.

His hips were snapping back as soon as he sank in. It frustrated him endlessly that he wasn’t trying to fuck you with such a lack of control. He couldn’t have been sure he’d have done it any differently had the circumstances been changed, but he liked to think he’d retained some skills over the long years alone.

The way he whined made him sound like a weak man, which he was in that moment. You wanted to call out his name, do the things you were used to doing during sex, but his hand was still over your mouth.

As if he heard your thoughts, his fingers spread open over your lips. Pinky under your chin to keep his hold on you.

“Alastor,” the tenor of your voice surprised you.

“Stick out your tongue.” He sounded far away, despite being right behind you. When you did as he instructed his hand shifted. Two long fingers went into your mouth and pressed down on your tongue. Immediately his fingers and your chin was dripping with drool. He whined again, louder, the noise growing into a growl as his speed began to pick up.

You could feel the thin flesh at the bottom of your entrance stinging as it was failing to stretch enough for him. It would have bothered you more but the way his burningly hot cock's head was pressing into your cervix was making your eyes lose focus.

Without ceremony, you felt a rush of heat deep in you. Your shins lifted from the bed as you squirmed, weak attempts to escape the deep press.

His hand left your mouth and you felt it working on the base of his cock that was not yet in you. He mumbled something, it sounded like an apology, before you felt him pop the rest of himself in. You choked on your scream, not knowing what he had put in you.

It throbbed, new and stronger spurts of his seed felt against an indescribable place.

A brave hand reached between your thighs and felt at the space between your bodies—- well, would have felt at that space. But there was none. You were flush against his lap. Your fingers slid down to feel taut balls pulled up into his body.

He shivered as you traced between them, checking neither were … inside you.

“I should have warned you, but my ability to speak wasn’t—,” he waved his hand around, “available.” You tried to pull away but found you both were locked together. “A knot. Not an accurate representation of a deer… and technically useless.”

That word meant nothing to you. “Is it normal?”

His thumb pressed at the virgin tight ring of muscle just above your pussy, you instinctively jerked away but just made yourself gasp as that large knot in you threatened to further tear you if you kept it up. “I don’t normally do it so early in a mated rut.”

You surrendered, trying to relax your upper body into the bed. “How do we get it out?”

A mocking chuckle, “It’ll deflate, so to speak, in a couple minutes. It’s just keeping my little doe in place while I finish filling her up.” He patted your ass.

It was mortifying to be suck in that position.

“Have you ever used this hole?” He rubbed some of your wetness up to your asshole.

Your tail lifted, “My boyfriend didn’t like anal.”

Alastor massaged around the puckered ring, “I didn’t ask if he used his.” Your head turned to look at him, shaking it ‘no’. You noticed his face looked less strained now, and that his finger didn’t feel like a fire was just under his skin. “Ah, well. I won’t need it today anyway.”

He didn’t see the bright blush that came over your face. He spoke so easily about the topic, a topic you’d never heard him speak on before. One you’d been told he had no interest in.

An error you made, assuming a lack of interest meant a lack of knowledge or experience.

When he finally could pull himself out of you, you felt a rush of warmth down your inner thighs. Looking under you, past your chest and between your legs, you saw the thick white semen escaping from your stretched entrance.

You’d never seen such an opaque release before. You wondered if it was a hint at his…potency. You wondered more what was happening in your body at that moment.

“Will it come out on its own or do I need to clean it?” Finally sitting up, your fingers felt the mess still dripping out of you.

Alastor leaned back onto his legs, ears turning in your direction as you asked, “Is this your first time? Your little boyfriend never finished in you?”

Crossing your arms, you turned to him, “Don’t be patronizing to him. And no, okay?”

He felt the heat rising from his gut again, cock twitching at every bit of the scene before him. Insolent body language, an attempt to scold him, and an admission. You watched him sit back up, a sudden reminder how much taller he was as darkened eyes looked down on you. The blue of the fire cast half of his face in shadows. “What’s this? My obedient doe wants to defend another man in my bed?”

Your hands nervously came to the ends of your ears, “I didn’t mean it like that.” A finger twirled, telling you to turn around. You hesitated. Did he want you to leave? He didn’t want to look at you? You hadn’t—, “I’m sorry.”

With a blink, his eyes were black. His fingers longer as parts of him seems to stretch between the joints. He twirled them again as his smile grew wicked.

Desperate to show him you hadn’t wanted to upset him, that you wanted to stay, you turned around. The fear of not knowing what he would do next was sending waves of electricity to your lap. You realized you hadn’t touched yourself yet, not that this was the time to start.

One by one, those freakishly long fingers curled around the small of your waist and lifted you off the bed. The tops of your feet were sliding across the dark maroon blankets beneath you both.

Your heart was pounding in your ears as he pulled you against him. He positioned you above his renewed erection, your legs opening a little in instinct.

Grateful now to be turned around, you let your face run the full range of feelings as they washed over you. Fear, arousal, anticipation.

“What a wasteful man.” He brought you down with a painfully slow speed, head just now meeting your sticky wet hole. “He never flooded your soft cunt?” He pressed in a little easier this time, but as you sank to take him all in you felt a sting where you’d slightly torn earlier. “When he dies, I’ll be sure to find him.” Cruel. “And make him watch me breed you.” You clenched, yet another betrayal by your body.

You were reduced to gasps as he stayed stock still and moved you on and off his cock. “Am I bigger than he is?” You could feel his breath against your back as you were lifted and brought back down again slowly.

You nodded. A terrible liar, you didn’t even try to fib.

He stopped with his head barely in you.

A squirm.

“I’m sure I just didn’t hear you. Try again.”

“Yes.” You were full again as he got his answer. A creaking sound you didn’t recognize startled you.

“Do I fuck you better than him?”

Ah you understood. Your hands held at his fingers digging into your body. “Yes.” Another creaking sound as he quickened your rise and fall.

Alastor’s antlers were wide and multi-pronged as your affirmations jostled around behind his eyes. Your ‘yes’ somehow made you tighter, wetter, hotter around him. His hips started moving again to meet yours. Perhaps he his dick grown a little during his shift to a more demonic form, or maybe you enjoyed the line of questions. All he knew was you were squeezing him like your body didn’t want him to ever pull out again.

Blood dripped from his lips as he cut his own skin, through gritted teeth a final question, “Do you want my fawns?”

Your legs pressed together, you knew there was only one answer and yet you asked yourself. Did you want that? To carry his children? A moan cut through your thinking, “Yes!”

The fire roared, a response to his own reaction.

Alastor felt his mind slip under again, noticing the wild way his shadow was dancing around the walls before his senses all dulled except touch.

The bed drifted away from under his knees and the walls melted like spent candles. Just sounds echoing off space as your moans deepened. As if learning, you began to whisper ‘yes’ to yourself as you felt a building pressure in your stomach.

Every thrust into you further separated your brain from your body. Your eyes lost focus as you watched the door bounce. No, wait, you were bouncing, right? Bouncing up and down the stiff rail of Alastor’s arousal. Your head fell forward, gasping as you felt him harden further while buried deep in you. He was going to cum again, you could feel it, you would feel it. The thought made your body shake as a pressure grew steadily in you.

Not a new sensation, but a different one.

“Louder,” another thinly veiled demand from Alastor that seemed to come from somewhere else entirely. Your eyes noticed a small light on the floor near the wall. A radio, buzzing with the same crackle as his voice.

“Yes,” you ground out, his hands were slippery with sweat as his nails dug in to ensure he didn’t lose his grip on you. “Yes, yes, yes.” He brought you down entirely and only let you off a little, an unspoken fear he would release too close to your entrance and he’d lose precious seed he needed your body to receive. “Yes! Alastor!” You weren’t sure who was talking now, as it surely couldn’t be you. You’d never —

“You’re better than him. You’re bigger and stronger and and he never —- he could never…”

He was suddenly regretting the position, unable to watch you fall apart as he so lovingly spread you open.

With a shriek, your back crashed into his chest as Alastor fell backward into his pillows. He didn’t miss a beat. He continued fucking up into you but let one hand reach your clit. When you whined, he breathed into your hair, “I need you to orgasm.” Other hand pressing down on your womb, “Many cultures believed a woman couldn’t get pregnant without finding her release first. Surely it’ll take. Cum for me my doe.”

You shook your head, “Alastor that isn’t possible.” Not that you were arguing against the way his finger was rubbing up and down on your swollen clit, you just felt the need to remind him of the obvious. Your eyes wandered up and back to see the hauntingly wide antlers now. His transformed face barely visible in the shadows.

“I thought you were a good girl.” His mouth kissed at the base of your ears, hand over your womb pressing in and exaggerating the feeling of his cock bulging from under your skin. “Darling,” he groaned, “Are you ready for my knot?”

You moaned at the words. No, of course not.

“Yes,” you got quiet, embarrassed again. Your hand snaked up and behind to hold his shoulder for stability.

“Relax,” he hissed, feeling your body tensing in anticipation.

You tried your best, but between his strumming finger and the sting still at your entrance you struggled to let things go limp.

This time you felt it growing beneath you. Alastor was ready as well, pushing it in before it was swollen so large he’d have to force it or just suffer with it outside.

Lubricated with the multiple loads already fucked into and then out of you, the knot pushed past your entrance with ease. But then you felt it expanding in you. Eyes crossing as they rolled back with the foreign sensation. It didn’t hurt, but a little alarm was going off in the back of your brain. How could something natural feel so unnatural? And how—

Your body locked up, muscles from thighs to neck tight. Alastor’s finger hadn’t stopped, and as the second knotted release flooded you with his feverish need, as his knot trapped every drop and forced it up past your cervix you tripped into your first orgasm. Different from your own hand and toys, the build up hadn’t been a slow ratcheting climb. No, you were rolling through waves of nearly pained pleasure. The spasming forced your body to feel him even more, pulling him deeper, triggering another wave to crash into you.

Alastor wanted to praise you, a rush of hormones and ego expanding his chest but the sensations had him so overwhelmed he was manually breathing. His hand didn’t want to stop, because then the way your pussy was positively sucking him in would also end. But your little cries and moans got increasingly choked and strained.

The calm briefly offered by knotting a mate during his rut came to your rescue, Alastor dragging a still barely moving finger up your body and going slack into the pillows.

Deep breaths, both of you fighting to slow them down. Alastor was experiencing another moment of clarity, only slightly upset he had doled out so much tenderness.

But for you, there was no deep fog of a heat to numb the sensations and let the more bothersome bits of consciousness turn off. Your mind was just as clear as normal. A little lusty, but nowhere near Alastor’s altered state. As you laid against his chest, waiting for him to be able to pull out, you could feel the pains and aches setting in.

Alastor summoned a minion, food set down on his desk under a silver cloche. Your eyes caught the black and white creature before it was whisked away.

Sitting up, you flinched but fought against the pain, “Alastor. What was that?”

His hands pulled you back down by the shoulders, skin on skin, “My minion. One of many.”

Exhausted, you could only sigh, “So, the errand.”

His hands went up defensively, “Oh come now, did you really think I was the good guy?” You didn’t reply. The silence began to bother him. Odd, given he usually didn’t give a fuck.

But he’d asked a lot of you, and you agreed willingly. You did as you were told. A little twinge of concern he had actually upset you wiggled between his ribs.

His hands slipped down your waist and settled over your stomach, “…Are you hungry? If you stay like this, I can help you eat.” You took a deep breath in, but didn’t even move to look at him. He squirmed ever so slightly, “I can only assume you’re… quite sore. Perhaps a bath? But I can’t guarantee we’ll make it out much cleaner than we are now.” His smile was smaller, just lips; no teeth. As his antlers withdrew and his limbs all returned to their proper places he could turn his head enough to look at your face.

Alastor felt relief wash over him to see you deeply asleep in his arms. It wasn’t a bad idea, to sleep before the next spell hit him and he was too far gone to think about baths or meals.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Alastor awoke in the dark. He found his hands and ankles tied behind his back, his body naked and sweating. He was on fire, pieces of himself lifting in the hot breeze and blowing away. He could feel his body fragmenting. You were just a little ways away and he tried desperately to reach out to you but as his eyes adjusted you were suddenly too far. If he could just get you to take a single piece of him, a shard of himself, he would live still. Even when the rest of him was dead and gone, he’d be alive in your hands. A raging stress, the fire now reaching his bones. It wasn’t too late. He still had time. Just a sliver of his existence was all he needed to get to you.

When you woke up, your body was at the foot of the bed. Looking over you saw Alastor lazily stroking his painfully hard erection. His gaze downcast, vision cloudy with unmet needs.

“Alastor?” With shaky arms you lifted yourself. You were hot. Was it the fire? No, before it had no heat. A little damp outline into the comforter formed where your body had been.

“You’re awake.” He reached over and grabbed your ankle, pulling you towards him and rolling you onto your back. Hand still around your ankle, he pulled your leg against his chest.

“Alastor.”

He sunk into you without hesitation, hips rolling into you roughly. Your body was rocking against the bed, wood creaking against wood with the steady force of his thrusts.

It felt good. Better than before, your walls felt soft and puffy around him. Alastor’s head was low, groaning every time he bottomed out. You could see just enough past him to watch the bed canopy swaying above you both before he folded you in half and leaned fully over you.

His eyes were unfocused like his mind, staring into the bed. A large palm at either side of your head, his back curved as he angled his hips to reach deeper yet.

“I’m so hot.” You were struggling to get the words out. It felt so good, the deeper in you he reached the more you seemed to be melting away.

Your hips were lifted off the mattress, held up entirely by his cock as he continued to rut into you. He could feel the fever in you rising.

Bent and tangled together, his head was nearly above yours. He was sweating, hair stuck down and ears folded back. A bead fell from his cheek and hit your forehead. He was working so hard. Such a strong man. A strong buck.

Something in you snapped. Something twisted and burned in your belly. You brought the other leg up to let yourself be folded in half completely, and his eyes wandered to your face. Your frontal cortex was just static as the lights were shutting off in most parts of your more human faculties.

Everything got quiet in you, a deep seated feeling of security creeping up your legs and sinking into your bones. With Alastor in you, nothing bad could happen to you. If you were carrying his offspring you’d be guaranteed a new level of protection. You needed it. You wouldn’t survive if you weren’t fucked and bred by the overlord.

How could your body be wrong when the feeling was so natural? So intensely confident?

“Alastor!” Your nails dug into biceps, hands clamoring up his arms to cling onto him, “breed me, please.”

He was caught alight, mind on ablaze with his raging fever. Your plea was a magnifying glass concentrating the sun into him and sparking a wildlife. Alastor was defenseless against the way your words affected him.

He could feel it, he could smell it, your heat triggered finally. His lips caught yours as his hands slipped up the blanket with how he had to contort to reach your mouth. You moaned into him, teeth on teeth as neither of you had any ability to finesse things.

“On your knees,” he instructed. You scrambled to turn around as he briefly left your body. A desperate whine in the seconds that stretched on, the emptiness unbearable. It hurt to have him anywhere but balls deep in you.

His hands slipped around your tail that still tried to swish side to side. When he tugged you gasped, the closest sensation you had was having your hair pulled. Chills ran up your spine. You nearly fell forward, but a strong hand wrapped around your neck and pulled your head back. He lined up, adjusting his legs wider to get down to your level.

“Are you feeling it?” He nipped at your shoulder, “Your heat?”

You pushed your ass back and pressed his tip into you. The sound that tore through your chest was answer enough for him as you tried your best to move along his length all on your own.

“You’re okay,” he squeezed lightly around your neck, pussy twitching around him as lightning snapped through you. “I’ll take care of you.”

Words that made your head spin. His body on yours felt like security. Everywhere his skin touched yours was a gulp of cold water in a drought.

A cliche, as he began to move again and his cock hit your g-spot every couple thrusts, you couldn’t tell where you ended and he began. His fever was matched to yours, no heat exchanged as warm and wet flesh moved around warm and wet flesh. Was that your hand or his on your stomach? Both were searing, both soft and slick. One of your hands was reaching down to hold his arm for support.

Eyes slipping shut, you imagined this was what being high felt like. You were out of your body entirely, feeling his dick slipping in and out of you from a different plane of existence. There was a sense your mouth was moving but no awareness of what you were saying. Truly just babbling as Alastor’s speed hitched. A clawed hand on your hip cut into you as he pressed deeper with every thrust.

He guided you down onto your stomach, hand now resting on your right shoulder to keep you in place. You were entirely flat, his knees parting your legs so he could get flush against your core.

His knot was in place as he began to swell. You felt it again, him flooding your womb as he released directly into your twitching cervix. A euphoria filled you so totally you were sure you could feel the cells of your body humming.

Like a cool breeze had blown down, your fevers broke nearly immediately.

“Oh,” you squeaked, Alastor’s hand releasing you as he lied on top of you. The weight of him was oddly arousing as it gave a clear comparison of your smaller size. “I think you’re right. Estrus.”

He nodded, rolling you both onto your sides, “Would you like the good news or bad news first?”

Resting your head on his extended arm, you tried getting comfortable despite the sticky feeling of your skin and the burning in your thighs, “bad news.”

“You won’t be walking straight for days.” He said it with a heavy tone of pride.

“Oh geez…,” you could feel his knot still throbbing between your hips, “The good news?”

“Your heat is going to make me even more desperate to fill you,” his free hand ran down your sides and slipped between your legs to feel where you two were connected.

You turned your head the best you could, “That’s not good news, Alastor!”

He laughed, “I lied. Oh well!”

While the good news had been a lie, the way your body’s shift into meeting Alastor’s instincts upped his feral responses was not. You nibbled on fruit and bread and cured meats in the small windows the clouds around your humanity parted.

But when they’d roll back in, a tempest of feral wants crashing into you both, you’d find yourself clinging to the deer demon.

You could have had an apple in one hand and be mid bite when his musk would reach you and your grip would loosen. With just a moan and a lifting of your hips Alastor would be dragging you closer, crawling over your body, mounting you wherever you two happened to be.

It wasn’t that you’d become confident by the end of the day, but that you’d lost all semblance of shame and embarrassment.

When Alastor pulled you onto his lap and placed your hands on his peach fuzz covered antlers, you didn’t need verbal instructions. It took all of your arm span to reach them, so you held tightly as he thrust up into you. None of his noises had been as intoxicating as the ones he made when you were leaning over him and squeezing his prongs with every jostle of your womb. Perhaps he’d lost his shame too, loud and long moans the other residents had to have heard spilling from his open mouth.

The wet slap of your ass coming back down onto his thighs as he bounced you was barely registered. Head hung low to meet his black engulfed eyes, you didn’t notice his smile was gone for the first time since you’d met him. Pinhole red pupils were locked on your face and imperceptibly roamed around your lust filled expression.

One hand reached up and rubbed the soft skin of your downturn rabbit’s ears between his thumb and index finger. Soft. Velvet.

A sensation that was wholly pleasant, not sexual in any nature but feeding the comfort provided by Alastor’s cock buried to the hilt. He wanted to enjoy the smile it gave you but he could feel his orgasm climbing exponentially.

There it was again, the darkness of your combined heat and rut slinking in. Body to body, your own sounds harmonizing with his and losing distinction. “Alastor–,” eyes drifting shut, “Please. I feel empty.” His previous loads dripping down your thighs, then down his own, and soaking into the carpet. “Fill me up. Please, can you breed me?”

His hand pulled down on your ear, “That was never in question.”

You let go of his extended prongs, arching your back to take a kiss. More. His tongue in your mouth, another hole full of Alastor. His hands both reunited on your ass and used the flesh there like handles. He fucked up into you, withholding the growing at his base, until he felt you cumming around him again. As your body sucked him in with rolling spasms, he pressed you down on his upthrust. A pained moan as it was pushed in a little late.

Lightning behind your eyelids, your mouths hanging open and pressed together.

Both of you a pile on the floor, a cold blue flame and soft music playing from the still broken radio. Uncharacteristically, Alastor’s arms wrapped around your smaller form and clung to you. The sensations were popping up one by one. Sticky skin, sweat rolling down your face, hair sticking to your neck and forehead. You’d have to peel each other apart. Which you did, eventually. When Alastor could pull out, he followed through on the bath he’d been thinking about.

You protested, reminding him you’d be soaking the floor with displaced bath water as soon as the next urge to mate came around. But he laughed, smile back in place as if it had never left, “Sweetheart if I do my job right you won’t even realize you’re not in bed until you’re knotted and knocked up.”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

He hadn’t been lying about the protective second day. But what he hadn’t anticipated was just how long that aggressive desire to keep others at a distance from you would last. While your deal had been in place for a little while before his rut, it wasn’t until after your time together in his room that it seemed to ever be used.

But you didn’t need to call out for him, like he had said. No, anytime someone even looked at you with a nasty thought, you were graced with his presence. Most people figured it out quickly enough, but occasionally new and brave idiots would approach you with trouble.

So when a tall and imposing creature cornered you in a shop, hand holding something sharp and shiny and asked, “Scared, little hare?", you could only smile as your face was lit up by a green glow and offer a little advice, “No, but you should be.”

deleted scene ˗ˏˋ Masterlist ˎˊ˗

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @rubyninja1 , @simphornies

, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , , @tiredkiwiii @ilikemyteawithmilk @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , , @fizzled-phoenix , @phobophobular , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk

#alastor x reader smut #alastor smut #alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel x reader #fanfiction #the radio demon #hazbin hotel fic

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aliyahwritings · 7 months ago

Text

THE CONTRACTED HEART — Rafe Cameron (09)

MASTERLIST | Basketball Player & Model!Female Reader

Summary: Rafe Cameron, a basketball star, needs a marriage to fix his image, while Model!Reader needs one for citizenship. They may be the perfect solution for each other.

Warnings: smut, descriptions of violence, jealousy, usage of drugs, talks about body image/ed, angst, and lots of bickering. Reader is confident, a people-pleaser, has a traumatic past, and is a sunshine with an attitude. Rafe is a whore, possessive, cocky, and secretive about his past.

Word Count: 4.7k

Aliyah's Notes: y'all are getting fed cause this chapter and the next one are gonna be cute asf so enjoy :)

Three days before the engagement party felt like an endless marathon, with every hour packed to the brim with decisions and errands. The morning started early—too early for your liking—as Aisha and Nina practically dragged you out of bed.

Nina, ever the “mom” of the group, had already prepared an itinerary. She stood in the kitchen, arms crossed, her phone in hand, while you slumped in a chair, still clinging to the remnants of sleep. “Alright, ladies,” Nina began, her tone brisk, “we’ve got a packed schedule. Venue first, then flowers, then caterers. We’ll fit in the designer appointment after lunch, assuming someone,” her eyes flicked pointedly toward you, “doesn’t take forever to make decisions.”

Aisha smirked, sipping her coffee as she leaned against the counter. “You know she’ll take forever. She was debating the color of napkins for twenty minutes for her birthday party.”

“Because they matter!” you protested, sitting up straighter, your natural energy kicking in. “The wrong napkin can throw off the entire table aesthetic. Imagine gold chargers with plain white napkins—horrible!”

Aisha groaned dramatically, while Nina pinched the bridge of her nose. “God give me strength,” Nina muttered in Tagalog under her breath before clapping her hands. “Alright, let’s move. The decorator is expecting us in twenty minutes, and I’m not letting us be late.”

The three of you piled into Nina’s car, and the drive to the venue was filled with your endless chatter. You couldn’t help yourself; you were excited. Ever since your night at Rafe’s, you’ve been walking around with a weight lift off your shoulders, and a smile on your face. “Okay, but seriously, do you think white and gold is too basic? Should I add a pop of color? Like blush pink? Or emerald green! Oh, that could be so chic—”

“Breathe, Miss. Yapper,” Aisha interrupted, shooting you a look from the front seat. “You’ve already settled on white and gold. Don’t backtrack now.”

“She’s just overthinking again,” Nina said from the driver’s seat, her voice calm but firm. “You always do this, sweetie. Just trust your instincts. They’re good… most of the time.”

“Most of the time?!” you repeated, feigning offense.

“Girl, you’re the one who almost ordered heart-shaped balloons for your ex’s retirement party,” your best friend deadpanned.

“He always complained about his job, alright! I thought he was happy to retire.”

The two of them burst into laughter, and you couldn’t help but join in. They always knew how to make you laugh, even when your perfectionism threatened to take over.

When you arrived at the venue, the decorator was already waiting, surrounded by samples of linens, centerpieces, and lighting options. The grand ballroom looked beautiful even in its unfinished state, with its high ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows letting in streams of sunlight. But you could already see a million tiny things that needed to be fixed or adjusted.

Nina took charge of logistics, confirming delivery times and setups with the decorator, while Aisha kept you in check. Every time you tried to change something—a table arrangement here, a floral display there—Aisha would cross her arms and give you a warning glare.

“Focus, Y/N. You’re going to drive this poor decorator insane,” Aisha muttered as you debated, for the third time, whether the table runners should have a satin or matte finish.

“It’s not insane to want things to be perfect,” you argued, though your voice was tinged with doubt.

“It’s insane when you’re deciding between two things that look exactly the same,” Aisha countered.

“Pale beige and normal beige are completely different—”

Nina swooped in to mediate, her tone soothing. “Look, kids, both options are gorgeous. Y/N, pick one and move on. We still have three more stops today.”

You sighed, finally nodding and pointing to the matte finish. The decorator gave you a grateful smile, and you moved on to the next decision.

By the time you left the venue, your head was spinning, but there was no time to slow down. The next stop was the florist, where the three of you pored over bouquets and arrangements.

“Peonies are elegant, but are they too soft for the theme?” you mused aloud, holding up a sample.

“Peonies are fine,” Nina assured you, already checking her phone for the next appointment.

“Roses are boring,” Aisha chimed in, inspecting a cluster of orchids. “But these could work. They’re dramatic. Like you.”

You stuck your tongue out at her, earning a rare laugh from Nina. “She’s not wrong,” Nina said with a small smile.

The florist walked you through the arrangements, but your perfectionism struck again. You wanted everything to complement the aesthetic without feeling overdone. Nina stepped in when she sensed you starting to spiral.

“Y/N, just pick a theme and stick with it,” she said gently but firmly. “You can’t have every flower in the world at your party. Less is more.”

Aisha nodded in agreement. “Listen to her. She’s right. For once.”

Nina rolled her eyes but didn’t dignify the comment with a response.

Eventually, you settled on a mix of peonies, orchids, and eucalyptus, feeling a little more confident as you left the florist.

Lunch was a quick stop at a café, where you barely had time to scarf down a sandwich before heading to your next appointment. The designer fitting was a whirlwind of fabrics, sequins, and pins, with you trying on dress after dress while Nina and Aisha offered their unfiltered opinions.

By the end of the day, you were utterly spent. You stumbled through the door of your apartment, exhaustion hit you like a ton of bricks. You kicked off your heels, letting them clatter onto the floor, and flopped onto the couch with a moan. Your feet ached, your head was pounding, and the thought of the work you have for tomorrow made you want to cry.

Just as you were debating whether to order takeout or crawl into bed and call it a night. Your phone buzzed—-your new phone that you bought yesterday after losing your original one and your keys at the charity event—-on the coffee table. You reached for it, squinting at the screen.

Rafe: “Longest. Day. Ever.”

A small smile tugged at your lips despite your fatigue. You propped yourself up against the armrest and typed back.

You: “Tell me about it. I’m so dead! Who knew choosing flowers could feel like a full-body workout?”

His response came almost immediately.

Rafe: “Yeah? Well, at least you didn’t have to run for AN HOUR!!! My legs feel like they’re about to give up on me.”

You: “Poor baby. Want me to send you a trophy for Most Exhausted Future Fiancé-to-Be?”

Rafe: “Ha. Ha. So funny.”

Rafe: “Are you sure we’re not married yet? You already sound like a nagging wife.”

The audacity of him made you chuckle and roll your eyes. You typed quickly, unable to help yourself.

You: “Excuse you? If I’m a nagging wife, then you’re a whiny husband.”

Rafe: “Whatever you say, nagging wife.”

You let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head as you sank further into the couch. The teasing back-and-forth was an oddly comforting way to unwind after such a chaotic day.

You: “Seriously though, did you at least eat? Or are you surviving off your ego again?”

Rafe: “Does a protein bar and water count?”

You groaned audibly, your fingers flying across the screen.

You: “No, Rafe. A protein bar and water do NOT count. A protein bar is not food; it’s a snack. Please tell me you’ve got something decent in your fridge.”

Rafe: “Define ‘decent’…”

You: “I’m going to kill you.”

Rafe: “That’s very romantic, baby, but you’re avoiding the question. What’s the verdict? Is my fridge decent enough for you, Your Honor?”

You: “No.”

You: “Knowing you, it’s probably full of water bottles, expired vegetables, and mystery leftovers. Am I wrong?”

Rafe: “I don’t like this attack on my character.”

You: “Answer the question, Cameron.”

Rafe: “Fine. Maybe you’re right. I don’t have the energy to argue. Or to cook, for that matter.”

You sighed again, a twinge of concern sneaking past your teasing. You guessed he pushed himself hard during training, but the least he could do was take care of himself after.

You: “Alright, what do you feel like eating? I’ll bring you something.”

Rafe: “What? No. You just spent all day running around. You don’t have to do that.”

You: “Too late. I offered, and I’m not taking it back. So, what’ll it be?”

Rafe: “...You’re really doing this, huh?”

You: “Absolutely.”

Rafe: “Fine. Surprise me. Just nothing too fancy. I’m starving.”

You: “Got it. Be there in an hour.”

Rafe: “Angel.”

Shaking your head, you pocketed your phone and headed to the kitchen. After a quick assessment of what you had on hand, you decided on a simple but satisfying dish: chicken biryani.

Cooking helped you relax after the chaotic day. The process of measuring spices, chopping onions, and stirring the pot grounded you, your mind focused on creating something warm and filling. By the time the dish was done, the air was fragrant with the scent of saffron, cardamom, and cloves.

You packed the biryani into a container, added a side of pudding kheer for balance, and grabbed some naan for good measure. After a quick freshen-up, you were on your way to Rafe’s penthouse.

When he opened the door, the sight of him hit you like a punch to the gut. Rafe stood there in low-hanging sweatpants that clung to his hips, no shirt in sight, leaving every inch of his toned chest and sculpted abs on full display. His damp hair was a tousled mess, drops of water clinging to his skin, catching the light as they slid down the defined lines of his torso. He leaned casually against the doorframe, his gaze raking over you with a mix of cocky amusement and exhaustion. The lazy grin tugging at his lips was enough to make your pulse stutter—and the way his voice dipped, low and teasing, when he finally spoke didn’t help.

“Well, well,” he drawled. “Look who showed up. My nagging wife bearing gifts.”

You rolled your eyes, forcing yourself to focus on the container in your hands instead of his sexy, very sexy abs. “You want dinner or not, Cameron? ‘Cause I can take it back?”

He instantly straightened up. “Come in, Your Honor,” he stepped aside to let you in, his grin widening when he saw the bag in your hand.

The penthouse was dimly lit, the warm glow of the city skyline visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows. You set the food on the kitchen island, trying to ignore the way he was watching you with that infuriating smirk.

You looked at your attire, and rolled your eyes. “Stop staring at my ass and grab plates,” you ordered, sounding stern.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, clearly amused, but he obeyed.

The two of you sat at the island, the meal between you. You put your hair in a bun, and said; “So, this is chicken biryani—” you pointed to it. “—and this is kheer and some naan.”

“This looks amazing, Y/N,” he let out a groan of appreciation.

You blushed at the compliment. “Thank you. You ever had Asian food before?”

“I had sushi and ramen with my team—”

You chuckled. “I meant South Asian food, Rafe.”

“Oh. South Asian…”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “You know, Indian, Sri Lankan, Pakistani, etc… Did you?”

He shook his head. “I don’t remember. I eat basic white man food, to be honest.”

“I realized,” you laughed. “Well, eat well.”

Rafe took his first bite, and his eyes widened. “Yo! This is delicious, what the fuck?”

You smiled, watching as he devoured the food like he hadn’t eaten in days. “Told you protein bars wouldn’t cut it—”

“You’re not going to eat?”

“I already ate,” you lied.

“Bullshit,” he said, giving you a pointed look. “Have some with me. I don’t like eating alone.”

You hesitated for a moment before giving in, grabbing a fork and joining him. The two of you ate in companionable silence, the tension of the day melting away with each bite.

For a brief moment, it didn’t feel like you were preparing for an engagement party or navigating the complicated arrangement that had brought you together. It felt easy, natural—like something that didn’t require overthinking.

You stood at the sink, sleeves rolled up, rinsing off the plates and containers. Warm water rushed over your hands as you scrubbed away the remnants of biryani and naan. The scent of spices lingered in the air, a comforting reminder of the meal you’d shared. Behind you, Rafe leaned against the counter, his tall frame relaxed but his eyes fixed on you.

“You know,” he said, his voice cutting through the quiet hum of the faucet, “you really don’t have to do this.”

“You’ve said that already,” you replied without turning around, focusing instead on rinsing the plate in your hand.

“Because I mean it. I can clean tomorrow,” he quipped, folding his arms across his bare chest.

A chuckle escaped you, and you tossed him a look over your shoulder. “Some of us were raised to clean up immediately after eating. It’s a brown girl thing—no one leaves the kitchen messy in my house.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a smirk. “Ah, so it’s cultural?”

“Hell yeah,” you replied, turning back to the sink. “If my mom ever caught me walking away from a pile of dishes, I wouldn’t live to see another day.”

“Sounds intense,” he teased, though his tone was laced with curiosity.

“You’re just white,” you shot back, and he laughed. “But also… I kind of like it,” you admitted, your voice softer now. “It feels wrong to leave things undone. Like you’re disrespecting the meal or something.”

Rafe was quiet for a moment, and you could feel his gaze lingering on you, not with judgment but something that felt closer to admiration.

“You’re kind of incredible, you know that?” he said finally.

You blinked, caught off guard. “For doing the dishes? Your standards are low, Cameron.”

He laughed, the sound deep and genuine. “No, I mean… just in general. You don’t have to cook for me or clean up after me, but you do it anyway. And you don’t even make a big deal out of it. You’re just… thoughtful.”

His words made you pause, your hands still under the running water. For a man who often masked his feelings behind sarcasm and cockiness, the sincerity in his voice hit you harder than you expected.

“Well,” you said, trying to keep your tone light, “don’t get used to it. Just because I cleaned your kitchen tonight doesn’t mean I’m signing up to do it forever.”

Rafe grinned, stepping closer. “Noted. One-time deal.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you shut off the faucet and reached for the dish towel. “Besides, I wasn’t cleaning for you. I was cleaning for my own peace of mind.”

“Still,” he said, his voice dropping slightly, “thanks. For all of it.”

You glanced over at him, caught off guard again by the softness in his tone. The cocky grin he usually wore was replaced by something more subdued, more genuine. It made your chest tighten in a way you weren’t ready to think about.

“It’s not a big deal,” you said, your voice quieter now. “Just food and a few dishes.”

“To you, maybe,” he said, leaning against the counter beside you. “But it’s been a while since anyone’s done something like this for me. I don’t even know the last time I had an actual home-cooked meal.”

That admission tugged at something deep inside you, a mix of sympathy and affection you weren’t quite prepared for. You focused on folding the towel in your hands, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way your cheeks warmed.

“Well, someone has to make sure you don’t live off protein bars and bad decisions,” you said lightly, trying to steer the conversation back into familiar territory.

Rafe chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Guess I should count myself lucky it’s you.”

Your eyes flicked up to his, and for a moment, you forgot how to respond. The way he was looking at you—soft, unguarded, and almost reverent—made your heart skip a beat.

“Alright, stop,” you said, breaking the moment and brushing past him toward the counter. “You’re making it weird.”

“Making what weird?” he asked, following you with an amused grin.

“Everything,” you shot back, grabbing your bag. “And don’t think I didn’t notice you slacking off while I did all the work. Next time, you’re cleaning.”

“Deal,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “As long as there’s a next time.”

You hesitated at the door, looking back at him. His smirk was still there, but so was that softness in his eyes, the one that made it hard to look away. Bag slung over your shoulder and shoes slipped back on, ready to leave Rafe’s penthouse and head home for what was left of the night. The day had drained you, and though the quiet domestic moment you’d just shared with him was nice—unexpectedly so—you still needed to recharge for tomorrow’s chaos.

“You don’t have to leave yet,” he said, almost too casually, as if trying to disguise the sincerity in his tone.

You paused, glancing back at him. “Rafe, it’s late. I’m exhausted. You’re exhausted. We both need sleep.”

He shrugged, his mouth curling into that boyish grin that usually meant trouble. “So? Five more minutes won’t hurt. Sit down, relax. You’ve been running around all day.”

You narrowed your eyes at him but relented, curiosity getting the better of you. “Fine. Five minutes,” you muttered, dropping your bag onto the floor again and heading to the couch.

Rafe followed you, sitting on the other end of the couch, though he shifted closer. His arm rested along the backrest, his entire posture relaxed in a way that only made you more aware of him.

“So,” he began, his tone lighter now, “what did you actually do today? Besides fighting with tablecloths and flowers, I mean.”

You groaned, leaning back into the cushions. “It feels like that’s all I did. The decorators kept bringing me options that were either too tacky or too plain. And don’t even get me started on the florists. Nina kept trying to keep me on schedule, Aisha rolled her eyes at every single arrangement, and I was stuck in the middle.”

His laugh was low and warm. “Sounds like a nightmare.”

“It was,” you said, though there was a faint smile tugging at your lips now. “But somehow, it’s all starting to come together. Slowly. Painfully. I think we’re making progress.”

He tilted his head, watching you with that quiet intensity he always seemed to have when you weren’t paying attention. “You really care about this party, huh?”

You hesitated, the weight of his gaze making it harder to brush off the question. “Yeah, I guess I do,” you admitted softly. “I mean, if we don’t make it believable then I’d have to go back to my country, and I can’t let that happen.”

Rafe was silent for a moment, his eyes never leaving yours. The soft light in the room cast shadows across his face, making him look more vulnerable, less guarded than usual.

“You’re putting so much thought into it,” he said finally, his voice quieter now. “More than anyone else would, I think.”

You shrugged, your gaze dropping to your hands. “Just doing what needs to be done. Nothing special.”

“It is special,” he said, his tone firm but gentle.

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten. You glanced up at him, meeting his gaze for a moment that felt like it stretched on forever. There was something unspoken in his expression, something soft and unfamiliar that made your heart stutter.

“Okay, your turn,” you said quickly, needing to break the tension. “What did you do today, besides run yourself into the ground?”

His smirk returned, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Practice, drills, meetings. The usual.”

“You make it sound so thrilling,” you teased, crossing your arms.

“Oh, it’s a blast,” he said with mock enthusiasm. “Nothing like running suicides and lifting until your arms feel like they’re gonna fall off. And then sitting in a room listening to people tell you how to market yourself better.”

“Sounds glamorous,” you said, leaning back into the couch with a small laugh.

Rafe chuckled, his gaze softening as he watched you. “It’s not. But then again, you make flower arrangements sound like boot camp, so I guess we’re even.”

You smiled, letting the comfortable quiet settle between you for a moment. The hum of the city outside was faint but constant, a reminder of how late it had gotten.

“I should really go,” you said, breaking the silence and sitting up.

Rafe’s hand reached out, brushing against yours as he spoke. “You don’t have to.”

The softness in his voice caught you off guard, and for a moment, you stayed still, his fingers lingering near yours. The space between you suddenly felt smaller, charged with something neither of you were ready to name.

“Rafe,” you said gently, pulling your hand back, though your voice betrayed your hesitation.

“Stay a little longer,” he said, his eyes searching for yours. “This is… nice. Just sitting here. Talking.”

Your heart thudded in your chest at his words, and you looked away, pretending to straighten your bag. “I can’t. I’ve got another long day tomorrow, and so do you.”

He sighed but didn’t argue, leaning back into the couch. “Alright. But you owe me another five minutes next time.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head as you stood. “Sure, Cameron. I’ll pencil it into my busy schedule.”

He followed you to the door again, his presence warm and steady behind you. As you stepped into the hallway, you glanced back at him, your smile softer now.

As you moved toward the door, your bag slung over your shoulder, Rafe trailed behind you, his hands tucked casually into the pockets of his sweatpants. The quiet between you was comfortable, a marked contrast to the constant noise of the day. Just as you reached for the handle, his voice broke the silence.

“So… my dad called today,” he said, his tone light but deliberate.

You paused, turning slightly to glance at him, curiosity flickering in your expression. “Oh? What about?”

Rafe leaned against the frame, his posture deceptively relaxed. “He wanted to ask about you.”

The corners of your mouth lifted in a faint smirk. “Me? Why? Should I be flattered or scared?”

He chuckled, though it came with a hint of exasperation. “Because you’re about to be my wife, and you should definitely be flattered. He’s been… curious, I guess. You’re kind of a hot topic at the moment.”

Your brow furrowed as you adjusted the strap of your bag. “What do you mean?”

Rafe shrugged, though his eyes flickered to yours briefly before looking away. “He’s been asking when he and Rose can meet you. Sarah’s been on my case about it too. She wants to meet you again. It’s like they’re more excited about this whole engagement thing than I am.”

There was an edge to his words, not quite bitterness but something close to it, and you stepped back from the door slightly, your curiosity deepening. “Is that… a bad thing?”

“No, it’s not bad,” he said quickly, though his jaw tightened ever so slightly. “It’s just… predictable. My dad’s all about appearances, and this engagement makes us look good. You make me look good.”

His words were meant to sound casual, but the weight beneath them was unmistakable. You softened your tone as you leaned against the couch. “Rafe, if you’re not comfortable with all this, you can tell me. I’m not going to—”

“It’s not that,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “It’s just… complicated.”

You tilted your head, watching him carefully. “How so?”

He hesitated, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “My family has this way of… making everything feel like a performance. You know? Like, they’re not just happy about this engagement because it’s a good thing for me. They’re happy because it’s a good thing for them. My dad’s already talking about how it’ll ‘strengthen the Cameron name,’ and Rose keeps mentioning how much she ‘adores your poise.’”

You blinked at him, momentarily caught off guard. “Wait, your step-mother said that? About me?”

He laughed lightly, nodding. “Yeah. I think she’s obsessed with you already.”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you. “Wow. And here I thought winning over your dad would be the hard part.”

“Oh, don’t worry. He’ll grill you like a steak the second he gets a chance,” Rafe said, his tone teasing but his smile tinged with something softer. “He doesn’t trust anyone, especially not when it comes to me.”

You frowned at that, your arms crossing instinctively. “Why not? You’re… I mean, you’re his son. Shouldn’t he trust you the most?”

Rafe’s smile faltered for a split second before he masked it with another shrug. “Let’s just say my track record isn’t exactly spotless. And my dad… he’s always been more interested in results than reasons. This marriage? It’s a result he likes. That’s all.”

The raw honesty in his words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. Finally, you stepped closer, your voice quieter now. “Rafe, if this is too much—if your family’s involvement is making it harder—I can talk to them. Set boundaries or whatever.”

He shook his head, his eyes meeting yours. “You don’t have to do that. It’s not your problem to fix.”

“Maybe not,” you said, your gaze unwavering, “but it’s my problem now too.”

“Such a good wife already,” he caressed your cheeks softly, the corner of his mouth twitched, his smirk returning faintly. “You’re really taking this whole ‘teamwork’ thing seriously, huh?”

“I’m a perfectionist,” you replied, matching his tone. “Can’t help it.”

He chuckled, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “You’re too good at this, you know. My family’s already halfway in love with you, and you haven’t even met them yet.”

“Maybe I should be worried,” you teased, though there was a softness in your voice now.

“Don’t be,” he said, his tone quieter as he let his hand down your face. “If anything, they’re the ones who should be worried. You’re gonna walk in there, charm everyone without even trying, and leave me to deal with their unrealistic expectations.”

You laughed, the sound light and genuine, and Rafe found himself leaning just a little closer, caught up in the warmth of the moment.

“Well, if they’re anything like you,” you said, your voice still tinged with amusement, “I’m sure I’ll survive.”

Rafe’s smirk faltered for a moment, replaced by something softer, something you couldn’t quite name. “They’re nothing like me,” he said quietly, almost to himself.

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of you moved. His gaze lingered on yours, steady and unguarded in a way that made your breath catch.

“Rafe…” you began, your voice trailing off as his expression shifted ever so slightly, something unreadable flickering across his face.

But just as quickly as the moment had come, it passed. He straightened, his usual smirk slipping back into place like a mask. “You should probably get some rest,” he said, his tone lighter now. “You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

You blinked, startled by the sudden shift, but nodded. “Yeah. You too.”

He followed you to the door, his presence steady behind you as you stepped into the hallway. As you turned back to glance at him one last time, his expression softened again, his blue eyes holding yours for a beat longer than necessary.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he said, his voice quieter now.

“Goodnight, Rafe,” you replied, your chest tightening slightly as you walked away, the weight of his gaze following you long after you’d gone.

chapter ten

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gilbertscurls · 9 months ago

Text

Pillow Wall ➵ Chris Sturniolo

inspired by

The night had been a blur of whispered conversations, laughter, and movie marathons. You and Chris had always been close, but this—this was new. The boundary between your friendship and something more had been blurring for a while now, but neither of you had dared to acknowledge it.

You sat on Chris' bed, surrounded by an avalanche of blankets and pillows. You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, your eyes darting over to Chris, who was scrolling through Netflix absentmindedly. You were doing your best to ignore the awkward tension that had settled between you the moment you realized the night had gotten late—too late for you to drive home.

“Guess we’re stuck with the classic 'two friends sharing a bed' dilemma,” Chris joked, but there was a nervous edge to his voice. He tossed the remote aside, letting it land somewhere among the chaos of pillows.

You chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. “Yeah, wouldn’t want to cross any lines, huh?”

Chris smirked, grabbing one of the pillows and dropping it in the middle of the bed. “Easy solution. We build a wall.”

“A pillow wall?” You raised a brow, but the idea made you grin.

“Exactly,” Chris said, already arranging more pillows between you. “That way, no accidental cuddling or whatever.”

“Ah, yes. Brilliant plan,” you teased, adding a few more pillows to the barrier. The wall grew higher, and when it was done, it was a comically lopsided fortress between you.

“Perfect,” Chris declared, lying back on his side of the bed. “Now we’re safe.”

“Totally safe,” you echoed, lying back as well. You stared at the ceiling for a moment, the silence comfortable, but the awareness of each other’s presence just on the other side of the pillow wall was impossible to ignore.

You both tried your best to sleep, but every time you shifted, you could hear Chris doing the same. It was ridiculous, really, how much space you had in the bed, and yet it still felt impossibly small.

Minutes turned into hours, and at some point, your eyes fluttered shut. You fell into a restless sleep, your thoughts still lingering on Chris—how close you were, how easy it would be to reach across the pillows.

When you woke up, the first thing you noticed was warmth. More specifically, Chris' warmth. The pillow wall, once so carefully constructed, was now half-destroyed, some pillows having fallen to the floor during the night. And somehow, you had both ended up tangled in each other.

Chris’ arm was draped across your waist, and your head rested against his chest. You blinked, your mind slowly registering the fact that you had both gravitated toward each other in your sleep, despite the supposed “barrier.”

For a second, you thought about pulling away, about untangling yourself before Chris woke up. But something stopped you. Lying there, wrapped up in the quiet comfort of him, felt too right.

Just as you were debating what to do, Chris stirred, his grip on you tightening slightly as he woke. He froze for a moment, clearly realizing what had happened, and then he groaned softly, half-amused, half-embarrassed.

“So much for the pillow wall,” he murmured, his voice still thick with sleep.

You smiled, your face still pressed against his chest. “Yeah, it didn’t work out too well, huh?”

He chuckled softly, but neither of you moved. The awkwardness from the night before had disappeared, replaced by something softer—something neither of you had the words for yet.

“You comfortable?” he asked after a moment, his voice gentler than you were used to hearing from him.

You nodded. “Yeah. You?”

“Yeah,” he said, his breath warm against the top of your head. “I’m good.”

You lay there in silence for a little while longer, neither of you feeling the need to break away. Maybe you’d talk about it later—what this meant, what it might turn into—but for now, you were content just being close, pillow wall forgotten.

tag list: @stuwniolo,��@sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06

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slattlicker · 10 days ago

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bf schlatt who hears the shower turn on from his office and then claws at the door like a cat trying to get in with u like doesn't even have to be sexual he just wants to hang out

╭﹐✦˚₊· 𖤐 * enter at your own risk ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ╮ imagine: you just want a shower in peace. your boyfriend sees that as a challenge. ╰﹒♡₊˚๑ *✧﹒✦ ࣪ ˖ ┊

﹒₊✦ a/n: for the beloved anon who asked for feral, door-scratching schlatt—you are the reason this domestic chaos exists. thank you for inspiring what is possibly the most unhinged home infiltration fic i’ve ever written. i had too much fun.

warnings: contains brief sexual language · light nudity (non-explicit) · shower intimacy (clothed & unclothed) · lockpicking for romantic purposes

enjoy the madness (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

✧✧✧

schlatt's editing.

headphones on. chair creaking. mouse clicking. he's halfway through cutting a VOD when he hears it.

pssssshhhhhhhhhh.

the water.

his whole body goes still.

he pulls one ear of his headset off. freezes. listens.

pssssshhhhhhhhhhhhh.

the fucking shower.

he's out of his chair before he can think, socks skidding on the laminate floor as he yanks open the office door—

and it doesn't budge.

"what the hell?"

he jiggles the knob. locked.

he rattles it again, harder this time, but it doesn't give. and it's not just the lock—he recognizes the sound. the weight. something's blocking the other side.

"babe?" he calls. "did you—did you lock me in?"

no answer.

only water running.

"are you fucking serious?"

he shoulders the door once. twice. no good.

then he sees it: a slip of paper under his keyboard.

"shower’s hot. i’m hotter. earn it, loser."

his jaw drops.

“you bitch.”

he looks around like the solution might present itself, then clocks the window latch.

"NO FUCKING WAY."

✧✧✧

he lands hard in the backyard. limps for exactly two steps before shaking it off like a wounded soldier and busting in through the sliding glass door.

and that’s when he sees it.

the hallway.

it’s covered in legos.

he stops. stares down at them. at the vibrant plastic warzone sprawled across the floor.

“BABE?” he yells. “WHY DOES THE HOUSE LOOK LIKE A WARZONE?”

you shout back sweetly, “I AM BUSY!”

“you freak,” he mutters, eyes flicking toward the ceiling like he’s praying for strength.

he takes off his socks. gingerly tiptoes through the chaos, wincing every time he so much as brushes a block with his toe.

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU??” he screeches.

"BOYS WHO BREAK INTO BATHROOMS GET BOOBY TRAPS," you call faintly.

"YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY??"

"I THINK IT’S EARNED."

he clears the final plastic piece and steps onto the first stair—

and his foot slides.

“OH MY GOD—”

his hands catch the railing, whole body jerking as he slips half a step down. he slams into the wall with a thud, heart jackhammering.

he looks down.

green.

slippery.

goopy.

✧✧✧

“you slimed the stairs?!”

“YOU SHOWED ME HOW TO MAKE IT,” you shout from upstairs, smug and shameless.

“FOR CONTENT, NOT MURDER!”

“IT’S NONTOXIC!”

“THAT’S NOT THE ISSUE!”

he drags himself up slowly, clinging to the railing like a soldier in a war film. every step squelches.

“you’re sick,” he grits, “you need professional help—”

“YOU NEED TO LEARN BOUNDARIES.”

“IT’S A SHOWER, NOT A FEDERAL ASSET—”

“IT IS WHEN YOU CAN’T STOP JOINING ME.”

he gets to the top.

then he hits the next obstacle.

the couch. full block. right at the top of the stairs.

✧✧✧

he groans. loud.

“I HATE YOU!”

“YOU LOVE ME!”

“I LOVE YOU, BUT I HATE YOU!”

he runs at the couch.

shoves it an inch.

"WHAT IS THIS, A BOSS LEVEL?"

you cackle.

he throws his weight into it. it moves an inch.

he groans. backs up. takes a running start, even on the tiny landing.

he throws himself again. again.

he squeezes through, breathing like a man post-marathon.

✧✧✧

bedroom door?

locked.

“baby, please—”

"YOU DON'T EVEN LIKE SHOWERS."

"I LIKE YOU IN THE SHOWER."

he fumbles for his keychain. tries the master key. it works.

but the second he opens it, a full laundry basket tips over, spilling a mountain of clothes onto him.

"WHAT THE FUCK, BABY—"

“LAUNDRY’S DONE! YOU’RE WELCOME!”

he fights his way free. throws a towel off his shoulder like it insulted him.

he stares at the en suite like it personally wronged him.

“one more door,” he mutters. “one more fucking door.”

he tries the handle. rattles it.

locked.

of course it’s locked.

✧✧✧

“baby.”

no answer.

he knocks, dramatic. rapid. like a cop.

“baby, open the door.”

you call back, chipper: “no!”

“Please?”

“you’re not allowed in here.”

“i’ve earned it. i’ve been through hell. i nearly died.”

“you slipped on slime,” you yell. “that you taught me to make.”

“that’s not the point!”

“what is the point?”

“that i’m cold. and bored. and unloved.”

“should’ve thought of that before you tried to barge in here and watch me shave my legs like it’s a live documentary.”

“you do it so gracefully,” he says, smacking the door gently for emphasis. “it’s like poetry. i get misty-eyed.”

you groan. “you’re not coming in.”

he lowers his voice, sultry. dangerous.

“what if i said i was already hard?”

a beat.

“liar.”

“…okay, not yet. but i could be.”

“mmm, no. stay that way. let it build character.”

“you locked me in my office like a dog.”

“because you follow me like one.”

“because you’re my favorite person!”

“so stop breaking and entering every time i try to shower!”

“let me in!”

“NO!”

a silence.

then—

he sees it.

bobby pin on the dresser.

a sign from god.

he grabs it, kneels down, muttering the whole time. “you wanna be weird? i can be weirder. you wanna play games? i’ll win.”

click.

the door swings open.

steam hits him in the face like judgment. his hoodie’s halfway off one shoulder, sweat-darkened and twisted from shoving the couch. his pants are slipping down his hips. and—most baffling of all—there are two socks dangling from his collar like weird little trophies.

you whip around, wet hair slinging water everywhere. eyes wide. scandalized.

“how the fuck did you—”

he holds up the bobby pin like a trophy. “shouldn’t leave these in arm’s reach, sweetheart.”

you gape. “you lockpicked me?!”

“you locked me out!”

“YOU DO THIS EVERY TIME—”

“BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!”

“YOU HUFF MY SHAMPOO!”

“IT SMELLS LIKE VANILLA!”

you throw your hands up. water splashes the tile. he stares at you like you’ve hung the stars.

and despite everything—despite the slime and the barricades and the actual breaking and entering—

he smiles, sheepish. crooked. boyish.

“…can i come in?”

you glare. “you already broke in.”

he lifts one sock from his collar, flings it over his shoulder like it’s a cravat. “but now i wanna do it respectfully.”

you squint. “you’re literally glistening.”

“from love,” he says.

“from sweat.”

“i worked to be here, babe.”

“you stormed the house like a castle!”

“it was booby trapped like a castle! i sprinted through legos. scaled slime. breached the couch blockade. took a laundry avalanche to the chest—”

“because you can’t stand being away from me for twenty minutes.”

he points at you. “EXACTLY.”

you blink. “that wasn’t a compliment.”

he steps closer, hand pressed over his heart. “i’m not here to argue. i’m here to apologize. to reflect. to recover.”

“you’re disgusting.”

“i need this shower.”

you snort. “you’re not getting in.”

he pouts. “baby—”

“no. this is my time. you had your chance. you blew it when you exited your office.”

he raises both hands in surrender. “okay. okay.”

a pause.

a beat.

his eyes flick to your shoulders.

to the steam curling around your skin.

to the droplets rolling down your chest.

“…what if i just stand nearby and—”

“nope.”

“i won’t even talk—”

“you never shut up.”

“i’ll just lean in the doorway—”

“you’re already in the doorway!”

“you’re so mean,” he groans, collapsing against the wall. “i risked my life for you.”

“you risked sweaty pits and a bruised ego.”

“same thing.”

he watches you rinse shampoo from your hair. watches the soap slide over your collarbones.

his breath hitches.

“please?”

you sigh, long and exaggerated. “fine.”

“YES.” he strips faster than a man possessed. hoodie gone, pants kicked off, socks flung into oblivion.

and when he steps under the spray—sweaty, smug, slightly traumatized—he melts on contact. like all is forgiven.

“this is so much better,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around your waist. “you’re warm. the water’s warm. we’re warm together—”

you slap a wet hand to his mouth.

“no narrating.”

he nods. licks your palm.

“EW—” you yank your hand back, spluttering. “you’re disgusting.”

“you’re mean,” he says again, grinning like he just won something. “i already almost lost my big ass feet to legos and then you slimed me.”

“you weren’t supposed to make it this far!”

“oh, sorry for being determined.” he rolls his eyes, ducking down to press a kiss to your shoulder, shameless. “maybe if you didn’t look so good covered in soap, I wouldn’t have risked it all.”

your laugh snags in your throat when he presses closer, steam curling around your bodies. his chest is slick with sweat and shower mist, all heat and pressure as it presses to yours. his hands trail down, fingers splayed wide over your ass, thumbs dragging slow, reverent.

you try to pull away.

he doesn't let you.

he noses along your jaw, teeth brushing just beneath your ear. “you taunted me,” he breathes. “you trapped me.”

his lips ghost across your throat.

“you baited me.”

you can feel him now, thick and hot against your thigh. and fuck, he’s hard—not from touching, but from chasing. from wanting.

his voice dips.

“so what now, baby?” he whispers, low and dangerous. “i followed every stupid rule you laid out. now i’m here. wet, bruised, and hard for you. you gonna keep pretending i didn’t earn this?”

✧✧✧ bonus ending ✧✧✧

you stare at him.

beat.

then you shrug.

“yeah,” you say. “i think i’m good.”

he blinks. short-circuits. “wait—what?”

“you got your shower. that’s all you wanted, right?” you lather your shampoo again. “hot water. quality time. no betrayal.”

he stares at you, slack-jawed.

“you’re fucking with me.”

you glance down at his dick, smug. “i mean...you wish.”

his mouth drops open. he looks between your face and your hand—the one now methodically working shampoo into your scalp, totally unbothered—like he’s witnessing the collapse of civilization.

“you’re a menace,” he breathes. “an actual war criminal.”

you hum innocently. “non-combatant, actually.”

he runs a hand down his face, water dripping from his lashes. “i scaled a slime-covered staircase for this.”

“and look! now you’re clean.”

“i lockpicked a door—”

“you stole my bobby pin—”

“—and you’re telling me this was the endgame?!”

you flash him a smile so sweet it’s practically a death threat. “sure is, soldier.”

he groans. drags a wet hand down your back, smearing soap as he goes. “you’re lucky i love you.”

“mmhm. and you smell like apples now.”

"you bought a new scent, too?!" he glares. “that is unforgivable.”

“hey, if you’re really mad…” you lean in, kiss the tip of his nose. “you could always go shower alone.”

he stares at you. slow. offended.

then he clutches his heart, dramatically. sinks to his knees like he’s been mortally wounded.

“tell my story,” he gasps. “tell the world how i died, balls heavy and heart broken.”

you roll your eyes. “you’re fine.”

he rests his cheek dramatically against your thigh, arms looped loosely around your hips.

“this is how i go,” he mumbles. “this is my legacy.”

“naked in the shower while your girlfriend does her routine?”

“betrayed,” he clarifies. “by my lover. and what was supposed to be vanilla shampoo.”

you snort, dragging your fingers through his damp curls.

he sighs again. but softer, this time. more relaxed. his eyes flutter shut as your fingers move gently through his hair, massaging his scalp with a quiet tenderness that betrays your earlier cruelty.

“you’re lucky i haven’t kicked you out yet.”

“no you won’t,” he says, eyes still closed, voice lazy. “you love me.”

you pause. your hand rests lightly on his temple.

“…yeah,” you say, soft. “i do.”

his eyes crack open.

“…wait. does that mean i get a blowjob now?”

you shove him backwards.

he slips, yelps, and lands on his ass with a wet slap.

“worth it,” he wheezes, grinning up at you.

#this one was soooo much fun LOLOL #vuewrites #jschlatt #schlatt #jschlatt x reader #schlatt x reader #jschlatt headcanons #schlatt headcanons #jschlatt imagines #schlatt imagines #jschlatt x you #schlatt x you

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kenzdolls · 13 days ago

Text

GAMER INTOLERANCE.

⌗ synopsis: you’re a person with IGD (Internet Gaming Disorder), so how does your boyfriend deal with it?

⌗ pairing: mha men x reader

⌗ side note: the loneliness is real I’m gonna be honest—

𐔌. IZUKU MIDORIYA:

▹ keeps detailed notes about your gaming habits in hero analysis notebook #47 (yes he made a whole notebook just for understanding you better) and accidentally discovers the correlation between your longest gaming sessions and when you're avoiding real-world stress

▹ definitely doesn't stay up until 3am researching igd and healthy coping mechanisms but somehow always has perfectly timed snack deliveries and gentle check-ins during your marathon sessions

▹ creates the most elaborate care packages with color-coordinated sticky notes reminding you about hydration, eye breaks, and "you're doing amazing but maybe stretch?" written in his chaotic handwriting

▹ gets genuinely excited about your achievements and keeps a list of all your high scores, favorite games, and that one boss fight you've been stuck on for three weeks (offers to help research strategies even though he's terrible at gaming)

▹ worry-mumbles about your sleep schedule but learns your game's soundtrack so he can tell how intense your session is getting just by the music bleeding through your headphones

▹ develops an entire system of gentle interventions disguised as coincidences: "oh wow, i just happened to make too much katsudon, and the sunset looks really pretty from the balcony right now, want to see?"

𐔌. KATSUKI BAKUGOU:

▹ storms into your gaming space like "oi, when's the last time you ate something that wasn't energy drinks and regret?" but there's always a perfectly prepared meal in his hands that he "accidentally" made too much of

▹ absolutely does not research your games to understand what you're going through but somehow always knows exactly when you're about to rage quit and appears with aggressive support: "that boss is being a little bitch, but you're not gonna let some pixels make you their bitch, right?"

▹ installs parental controls on your setup (without asking) but the restrictions are weirdly thoughtful - blocks during meal times he's cooking and creates mandatory "touch grass" periods that coincide with his training schedule

▹ learns gaming terminology just to trash talk your opponents more effectively: "that scrub is camping like a coward, show them what a real gamer looks like!"

▹ forces you into "training montages" where he makes you do push-ups between deaths ("if you're gonna sit on your ass for 12 hours, at least make it a strong ass")

▹ secretly learns to play your favorite co-op games because "someone has to carry you through this shit" but gets embarrassingly competitive about your team rankings

𐔌. SHOTO TODOROKI:

▹ approaches your gaming habits with the analytical precision of someone who's never experienced a hobby before: takes notes, asks incredibly direct questions like "do you game more when you're avoiding your father?"

▹ creates detailed spreadsheets tracking your gaming hours vs. mood vs. sleep quality because "data helps me understand how to support you better" (doesn't realize how intense this sounds)

▹ his rich boy solutions are accidentally perfect sets up the most ergonomic gaming space known to mankind with temperature control, blue light filtering, and a mini-fridge stocked with actual nutritious snacks

▹ sits quietly nearby during your sessions working on his own stuff, becoming a comforting presence who somehow always knows when you need emotional support without you saying anything

▹ learns to make your comfort foods from scratch because "store-bought isn't good enough for someone i care about" and delivers them with zero fanfare

▹ accidentally becomes your guild's favorite person because he remembers everyone's schedules and sends polite reminders about raid times and event deadlines

𐔌. EIJIRO KIRISHIMA:

▹ becomes your personal hype man who genuinely celebrates every single achievement: "bro, you just got that headshot! that was so manly!" *aggressively supportive arm gestures*

▹ definitely doesn't panic-research igd at 2am but starts leaving little encouraging notes around your setup: "remember you're more than your rank!" and "hydration is manly!"

▹ learns your game just enough to understand when you're having a rough session and swoops in with the most genuine pep talks: "hey, bad games don't make you a bad person, you know?"

▹ creates "gym buddy but for life balance" energy - suggests you both work on your respective challenges together (his self-doubt, your gaming habits) with matching goal charts and reward systems

▹ masters the art of the perfect gaming break: warm hugs, protein smoothies, and stories about his day that are just interesting enough to ground you without being demanding

▹ somehow makes every gaming achievement feel like a shared victory while also making every break feel like quality time instead of an interruption

𐔌. DENKI KAMINARI:

▹ initially thinks dating a gamer will be awesome until he realizes you're way more hardcore than his casual mobile gaming and gets lowkey intimidated by your setup

▹ becomes the master of chaotic interventions: unplugs your router "by accident," challenges you to stupid tiktok dances, or starts playing ridiculously loud music until you're forced to acknowledge his existence

▹ absolutely enables your habits sometimes brings you energy drinks and snacks but draws the line at letting you skip meals: "babe, you can't sustain this lifestyle on doritos and spite"

▹ creates elaborate schemes to make irl activities more appealing than gaming: "what if we went to the arcade? it's like gaming but with more lights and you can see my devastatingly handsome face"

▹ learns to recognize your different types of gaming moods and adapts accordingly - respects your serious competitive sessions but crashes your casual farming sim time with commentary and jokes

▹ somehow becomes friends with your online gaming buddies and creates a support network that bridges your digital and real relationships

𐔌. TOMURA SHIGARAKI:

▹ completely understands the appeal of escaping into digital worlds and doesn't judge your habits because he's been there, but gets weirdly possessive when games take priority over him

▹ creates a bizarre competitive dynamic where he tries to out-game you, leading to couples gaming sessions that last 20+ hours and probably aren't healthy for either of you

▹ oddly supportive in his own twisted way: "the real world is garbage anyway, at least you're good at something" (this is his version of encouragement)

▹ enables your worst habits while simultaneously calling you out: stocks your space with junk food and energy drinks while muttering about how you're "rotting away like society"

▹ becomes eerily invested in your gaming drama and holds genuine grudges against players who've wronged you: "give me their usernames, i'll make them regret existing"

▹ his room setup makes yours look casual and he creates the ultimate gaming cave where you both can ignore the outside world, which is either deeply romantic or deeply concerning depending on perspective

𐔌. DABI (TOUYA TODOROKI):

▹ approaches your gaming addiction with his signature blend of dark humor and genuine concern disguised as indifference: "nice to see you're as committed to avoiding reality as i am"

▹ secretly worried because he recognizes destructive coping mechanisms but expresses concern through sarcasm: "wow, 16 hours straight, that's almost as impressive as my daddy issues"

▹ becomes surprisingly attentive to your physical health in subtle ways - adjusts room temperature without being asked, replaces your desk chair with something that won't destroy your back, casually mentions eye strain

▹ uses his insomnia to keep weird parallel schedules with your gaming marathons, becoming a comforting presence who's just... there when you need him at 4am

▹ learns your games well enough to have intelligent conversations about them, but always with his trademark cynicism: "so you're telling me you spent six hours optimizing a virtual farm while eating cereal for dinner?"

▹ creates moments of genuine connection by sharing his own escapism strategies and bonding over the appeal of worlds where you have control

𐔌. SPINNER (SHUICHI IGUCHI):

▹ actually the most qualified to understand your situation as a former shut-in gamer himself, approaches your relationship with genuine empathy and zero judgment

▹ shares his own experiences with gaming addiction and social withdrawal without making it about him: "i get it, sometimes the digital world feels safer, but isolation isn't actually protection"

▹ creates the perfect balance of gaming together vs. encouraging other activities - suggests co-op games that build teamwork, then translates those skills into real-world adventures

▹ helps you recognize the difference between gaming as hobby vs. gaming as avoidance with gentle questions: "are we playing this because it's fun or because tuesday sucked?"

▹ his lizard brain finds your intense focus oddly attractive but knows when to interrupt with perfectly timed reality checks disguised as snack breaks and conversation

▹ becomes your accountability partner who actually understands the struggle - celebrates your healthy choices without making you feel broken for needing support

⌗ taglist: @idexmids @siriuslyginnychase @eleteo125 @st4r-dustx @corpsebridenightamare

⌗ mutuals: @haikyuubby @va-3 @tulippanes @luvseraphh @miss-indigen0us @cupkiki

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha #x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #izuku midoriya x reader fluff #izuku midoriya x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #denki kaminari x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #dabi x reader #touya todoroki x reader #spinner x reader

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3liza · 13 days ago

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i know ive done hundreds of hours of either actual protesting or doing equipment and training prep for protesting and then another hundred hours of research about riot weapon mitigation and maybe someone remembers and was expecting me to Post about it again but i just cant do a big posting marathon about it this time im sorry.

so heres the short version of what i have learned through personally being chemically attacked multiple times in multiple protests, and doing hundreds of hours of research in medical literature.. take it or leave it.

probably the single most important thing i can tell you is wear some kind of head protection (a head injury is the #1 way people get seriously hurt and killed at protests. i dont care if it looks dumb, wear a helmet).

one thing about chemical weapons is they are all different and sometimes you can make shit worse for one chemical by treating another. at the riot you wont know for sure what youve been exposed to because police use mixed products specifically to make treatment harder.

the best riot weapon treatment is to avoid being sprayed, gassed or shot in the first place. wear a helmet. wear protective clothing and if you have it, armor. buy a respirator or gas mask with an unused nato nbc filter, and do not use milk for tear gas or chemical treatment in your eyes. water is not really effective for a lot of exposures either but wont injure you, it will however often cause additional pain because riot weapons are often in oil based carriers and wont wash off with water and are designed to activate when they come into contact with it. ie, the water will make it hurt more until it wear off/evaporates.

^^^^ this thing should b e standard issue protest equipment for all street medics and i dont know why they arent except that people just dont know they exist. i want these to be the new meta. fill them with clean water or preferably saline (contact solution) before going in. the cup goes over your eyeball and then you squeeze and your eyeball gets sprayed off, which is the procedure that is hardest to accomplish in the middle of a protest because tear gas makes you clench your eyes closed involuntarily. a good street medic will basically restraint you like a dog at the vet and pry your eyelids open to rinse your eyes. this is a lot easier to accompkish with the proper equipment

you should be carrying sterile saline or lactated ringer for chemical weapon flushing, and you should get an eyewash bottle from a medical or industrial supply. or amazon. if you cant buy lactated ringer then those big bottles of contact solution with the little spray tips are also good because you can use the water pressure to spray chemical particulate off the affected surface while rinsing. sudecon and other chemical weapon ntreatment wipes also work somewhat but last time i looked into it years ago, it was very hard to source and purchase, expensive, and had limited efficacy

i did all the research on this and this was the conclusion of many papers and many military and police tests that i read.

additionally, rinsing your eyes with the lactated ringer BEFORE being contacted by riot weapons worked better in one trial than trying to treat exposure afterwards. no one tested this but i suspect that generously applying Visine to your eyes, mouth, and nostrils before getting gassed or sprayed would have a very similar mitigating effect

for skin surface treatment in the field, a 50/50 mixture of water and liquid antacid (referred to as LAW) is effective for some agents and wont hurt for the others. unfortunately the majority of chemical agents have to evaporate off you to stop hurting. all the serious, EMT-trained and experienced street medics i know carry and use LAW. i have used it on patients and on myself and i think it's more effective than water.

this web page concentrates a lot of the information and challenges about this stuff into a short amount of reading. i dont know anything about the site or the owners but the information on just this page agrees with what i found in my own research.

people will argue with me about this because theres a shitload of "folk wisdom" about protesting like the onion thing etc and most of it is straight bullshit that has been reinforced through superstition. since riot weapons wear off after a period of time, a lot of people will put stupid shit on their burns and then claim it "works" when the pain inevitably stops after X minutes. stick to saline and water if you dont know what youre doing, then wash your skin with dish soap when you get home and isolate your poisoned clothes immediately. using a clean oil and then soaping it off in a shower can help too but ONLY if you are removing the oil completely (dish soap again). oil is not a good field treatment and will make things worse if you apply it without soaping it off.

also for reasons probably related to nicotinic receptors, smoking a cigarette after tear gas inhalation helps with acute recovery. i dont know why, and it probably is obnly going to work for people who have smoking experience. there's no research about this, its purely personal observation

dehydration will make you sick and crazy and stupid faster than you think it will, so will low blood sugar. bring candy bars and water and salt to eat during the protest. bring extra to give to people.

as always, if someone is exhibiting asthma or anaphylaxis symptoms they need actual medical attention asap

reblogs off because i dont want to deal with the inevitable panic-based arguments this information always triggers

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kitten4sannie · 11 months ago

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middle of the night

pairing: boyfriend! san x fem! reader

genre: pure smut

summary: these days, san can never seem to get a good night’s rest, that is, until he’s able to completely unload himself inside his pretty little girlfriend. good thing you‘re laying right next to him.

w.c: 2.1k

warnings: mean dom! san, subby painslut! reader, both of these mfs are nymphos, somno that turns into full blown sex (they have an established agreement and there is strict consent involved), san’s got a big curved cock as per usual, pet names/name calling, praise/degradation, manhandling, tit play, spit, finger sucking, pussy slapping, marking, possessiveness, spanking, vaginal/anal sex also known as the two for one special <3 (psa: never switch from ass to pussy irl btw), rough altered missionary/doggy/back to missionary, san puts reader in a headlock (muahahahah), creampies, squirting, breeding kink, bulge kink, dumbification, brief oral, san eats his own cum out of reader, this is really filthy btw i should be locked up :3c

a/n: i literally can’t stop writing bc of the horneee that is constantly brought upon me against my will 😞 it’s all san’s fault </3 also i realized i’ve only written one fic about somno like two thousand years ago even tho it’s in my top ten kinks so i gotta fix that <3 *screams* i hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed coming up with it~

song recs: angel by massive attack - beware by deftones (GRRRRRRRR BARK BARK)

San couldn’t seem to stop tossing and turning in bed, forcing his eyes shut and waiting for one side of his pillow to grow far too hot for comfort, before letting out a frustrated groan and rolling onto his other side, his cheek squished against the feathered pillow. Squinting at the glowing analog clock on the bedside table across from him, San blinked a few times, his eyes getting used to the darkness inside the room. It was already nearing dawn and he still hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep. There had to be some kind of solution.

It was then that you shifted besides him, emitting a soft moan and rolling onto your back, your loose tank top lowered just enough so that one of your tits had popped out of it, creating another obstacle for San to overcome, one that wouldn’t let him fall asleep until he confronted it.

“Fuck,” San whispered to himself, pushing the covers down far enough to confirm his growing problem. With half-closed, tired eyes, your boyfriend watched his cock repeatedly throb upwards against his loose black sweatpants, as if it was begging him to do something, and quick.

Hs thought back to a conversation you had earlier that week, one you brought up after he had just got done fucking you all over the house in every position imaginable. Like many of your sex marathons, it was initiated because of something simple — you being bent over the washing machine to fill it up with a load of detergent, which, of course, led to San filling you up with his own load in every possible area of your house, including the back patio when you tried to water your poor succulents.

“Sannie, you might as well fuck me when I’m asleep too, at this point,” you giggled, running your fingers through San’s soaked hair, admiring the way he looked in between your legs, with his mouth and tongue exploring your leaking, cum-filled cunt.

“You mean that, angel? My dumb slut wants me to fuck her even dumber in her sleep?” he asked in between licks, humming softly as he continued to languidly clean you up after the destruction he caused to your used hole. It was his favorite pastime, besides rearranging your insides and painting them white with his seed, of course.

Moaning at his mean words, you tugged on his hair, rubbing your soaked pussy in his face like you always did. “Yes, I mean it, baby. Now, shut up and clean up your mess.”

Before San knew it, he was hovering over you, your thighs wide open and resting against his own, your loose, nonexistent sleep shorts tossed to the side so that he could eagerly rub his slick cock along your plush folds, his thick, calloused fingers exploring every inch of your heated skin, groping at your soft thighs, your hips and waist, eventually getting distracted by your tits, rolling your tank top up over them until they spilled out into his greedy hands. He squeezed and rolled them around, bringing his drooling mouth down to your chest to drag his hot tongue up and over your tits until they shined with his spit, pinching your puffy nipples in between his teeth until you whined out in your sleep, feeling your arousal leak out onto his pulsing cock when he finally pushed inside.

“Mmn, my angel is such a good little cocksleeve, so fucking wet for me even in her sleep,” San sighed lovingly to himself, sucking one of your tits into his mouth, spitting on it for good measure, before exchanging it for the other, moaning around your soft flesh, his eyes never leaving your pretty flushed face, even though you weren’t even awake to look down at him.

Unable to hold himself back, he began to buck his hips wildly into you like he always ended up doing when your tight, warm cunt sucked him in the way it did, the headboard beginning to bang loudly against the wall behind it. Grunting, San licked up from your spit-laced chest to your neck, sucking and biting into it, leaving his mark on you. “My baby, my sweet girl, you’re mine, all mine, even when you’re dreaming,” he whispered against your slick skin, slowly pulling back when he heard the breathy gasps you were letting out turn into full-blown moans.

“S-sannieee, I’m so full,” you voiced in a sleepy tone, reaching up to rub your tired eyes, studying your boyfriend’s rosy cheeks and lips, the way his drenched hair stuck to his forehead, a few drops of sweat landing on your face, unable to look away from his intensely dark, lust-filled gaze. “Is my pussy making Sannie go crazy?”

A low growl erupted from San’s throat, a vein starting to grow taut against his skin, now that he was pounding into you with abandon, reaching up underneath your thighs to forcibly fold you in half like you were nothing but a doll for him to use. “Your slutty cunt always drives me crazy, princess, so be good and take responsibility, hm?”

Barely able to breath now that you were akin to origami, your brain grew delightfully fuzzy from the lack of oxygen, encouraging the hazy, half-asleep state you were still in and the oversized cock that was being driven relentlessly into your cervix to work in tandem until pleasure overtook your body to the point of orgasm. “Fuck, Sannie, baby, fffuuck, I’m cumming…!”

“Oh, my dirty girl, creaming yourself so soon?” San mused with his lips quirked into a shit-eating grin, his dimples and canine teeth on display. Just as your eyes begin to disappear underneath your fluttering eyelids, San suddenly grabbed you by the chin, reaching down in between your sweaty bodies to smack his hand down roughly against your spasming cunt. “Look at me when you’re squirting on my cock, baby. You know better.”

“S-sannie, it’s so, oh my god–” you cried out, opening your mouth to moan and instead feeling his thumb slide over your tongue, your lips closing around it. You continued to suck on his thumb as he fucked you through your first mind melting orgasm of the night, biting into it when he smacked your cunt again with his free hand.

“Owww, bad girl.” San watched you lick and suck on his thumb with a lecherous smile plastered on his red, sweaty face, rubbing his other thumb roughly into your puffy clit, rolling it in circles until he felt your thighs trembling nonstop against his moving body, suddenly stopping his movements to sheath himself fully inside you, groaning heavily as he flooded your pulsing cunt with his hot load. “Mm, you feel that, princess? I’m pumping all my cum into this slutty womb of yours, so I can get you nice and knocked up for me…You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Just as he pulled his thumb out of your drooling mouth, you clasped your hands onto his cheeks, looking up at him hearts in your teary eyes, and begging, “Yes, Sannie, I like it, love it so much. Can I have more?”

And there it was. You might’ve been the love of his life and his beautiful angel of a girlfriend, but you were still his personal breeding bitch at the end of the day — and in the middle of this hazy, sleepless night.

“Oh, yeah?” San hummed, slowly pulling out of you and running his fingers through his wet hair, just for it to fall back into his half-lidded eyes, watching as his cum began to flood out of your gaped, fluttering hole. He wanted nothing more than to eat it out of you, his mouth watering at the thought of tasting the warm saltiness mixed with your sweet squirt on his lips, but he still had to pursue his mission of pleasing his baby. “My little slut still hasn’t had enough?”

“No, Sannieee, I need your cock in my other breeding hole. Please?” you whined softly, pouting up at him, hoping you’d get your way now that you were fired up and desperate for him to fill and own as many of your holes as he could before the both of you fell victim to drowsiness.

San closed his eyes to ground himself for a second, not even fully prepared for the filth that you exuded, despite being quite the pervert himself. When he opened his eyes back up, he looked down, his curved cock now painfully stiff and twitching upwards into his heaving abdomen, somewhat winded from how hard he had been fucking you just a moment ago. “Head down, ass up, little slut. Don’t make me ask twice.”

And just like that, you were lying with your head pressed into bed, drooling heavily from both ends, getting saliva onto the arousal stained mattress, your sopping wet cunt pushing out all of San’s load and causing it to drip down your inner thighs, your weak, bruised knees wobbling beneath you, your ass being relentlessly pounded into by your ravenous boyfriend. “Gonna cum, gonna cum–”

Your warning was cut off by a sharp gasp, just as San’s hand collided with the side of your reddened ass, his fingers grabbing into the soft, sensitive flesh until you whimpered pathetically. “You’re such a filthy slut, aren’t you?” he growled between gritted teeth, smacking the other side of your ass and making you cry out before you could answer him properly. He suddenly pulled out of your ass and forced himself back into your cunt, stuffing you completely full, hunching over you so that he could put you in a headlock, loose enough so that you remained conscious, but tight enough so that you could feel deliciously dizzy. “You’re my filthy slut. All mine to fuck raw, to ruin, to breed. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you whispered hoarsely, opening your mouth up to accept his tongue inside when he closed in on you, feeling breathless once he manipulated your body until you were back underneath him, your legs near your head, his cock so deep inside your cunt that the tip of it created a prominent bulge inside your stomach, one that San was already palming as he began to shudder, his lips, teeth and tongue attacking your neck again to leave more marks, darker ones that you would have to put concealer over before you went to work the following morning. “That’s it, that’s it, cum inside me, San, please, make me yours!”

“You’ve been mine since the beginning, angel, but I’ll make you mine again, and again, and again,” San exhaled onto your lips, wrapping his arms protectively around you, his cock completely sheathed inside you, his tip just about kissing the entrance of your cervix, your bodies so entangled together, neither of you knew where the other began. You gazed into each other’s hazy eyes, moaning into each other’s open mouths, as another seemingly endless flood of thick, hot cum claimed your womb. “I love you so fucking much, it hurts.”

“I love you too, San,” you sighed back, caressing his heated face, your fingers slipping into his hair just as he began to lower himself down, shuddering at the sensation of his lips and teeth making their mark on your chest, abdomen, hips, then gasping when he made his way to your center, his hot tongue slipping inside your pulsing cunt.

Like every time before, San ate his warm load out of you like a starved man, his nose nudging your sensitive clit as he moved his head in an up and down motion, coaxing more of the saltiness onto his tongue, reaching up to rapidly rub your clit just because he could, pleased with the way you began to cry and shake, your warm squirt pouring down his throat. He swallowed it all down with a low, pleased groan, dragging his tongue up and over your used, puffy cunt to collect the last few drops of nectar, before he finally felt tired enough to collapse down onto the bed next to you.

With the last ounce of his strength, he pulled you into his arms, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then to your lips, letting you taste your combined essence. “Bedtime?” San whispered, cradling and rubbing your cheeks with his thumbs, looking at you with a fondness that bordered obsession. He chuckled softly, giving you a dimpled smile. “I promise I won’t wake you up again.”

“You won’t wake me up, but you still might fuck me in my sleep? Huh, nympho?” you teased jokingly, cradling his face back, so close that you breathed in the same air, your eyes never leaving his, despite how heavy your eyelids began to feel. “I need my sleep, you know.”

San was in a similar state, starting to drift off, his hands leaving your face so that he could wrap them protectively around you. “Sorry, baby. I’ll try to be quieter next time,” he murmured, letting out a soft giggle, pressing a kiss to your lips just as his eyes began to close. “Just don’t be mad at me when you wake up with my cock still inside you…”

Leaving a kiss on his nose, your eyes started to close as well, completely relaxing into your boyfriend’s warm embrace. “I’ll be mad if it’s not still inside me.”

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