#and listen it’s not so much that my body size has no relationship to my overall health

[hoseoksluna]

LIFE | jhs

pairing: military!hobi x f. reader (ft. namjoon)

genre: slow burn ; tension ; converse high trope / smut, tiny fluff

word count: 8.6k

summary: hoseok has always had a secret thing for you and once he learns you're single, he doesn't waste time and knocks on your door. 

pinterest board: life / playlist: listen / taglist: join / discord: join

warnings: mutual pining, hobi is a feet guy, mentions of a partner giving you a cold shoulder and silent treatment, strong tension, praise kink, petting, nipple play, oral sex (f. receiving), overstimulation, slight dd/lg, raw and rough sex, size kink.

note: SHE'S BACK. HOSEOKSLUNA IS BACCKKKKKKKK. HELLO, MY BABIES. I MISSED YOU ALLLLL SOOOO MUCH AND I MISSED WRITING SO MUCH THAT THIS IS SOMETHING I WROTE IN MY YEARNING TOWARDS THE END OF MY HIATUS. fuck, this is way too hot. and i, again, had to take breaks to do something :D actually, i was inspired to write this at 4 am when i landed in my country after my vacation in dubai and got the weverse notification from hobi. :) yep. he ruined me, destroyed me, and i had to start writing. ENJOY THIS FILTHHHHHH. i missed writing abt dd/lg, too.... hehe. let me know what you think. and if you mayhappsss want part two? I LOVE YOU, MY BABIES. MWAH.

Hoseok, at your doorstep bringing in the moonlight before the midnight hour, was not something you quite expected to see when you heard the bell ring. You were lounging around on your couch, clothed in your new silky pajamas that you bought to heal your wounded heart a little, along with a peachy Korean face mask, a banana vape and a vanilla candle that you lit up as soon as you exited the shower. The creamy white sheet is what you were still wearing on the planes on your face when you stood there, taken aback because the man, clad in his military uniform, was certainly not your friend that visited you often. 

Hoseok was a mutual friend. A friend of your best friend Karina… and a friend of your now ex-boyfriend Namjoon. A friend that hated your guts—a friend that could not stand you. 

A friend that would let his eyes linger a little while longer on you upon seeing you on regular night outs and then ignore you for the rest of the event. A friend that would lock his gaze on your intertwined hand with Namjoon’s before narrowing it and scoffing in a private way that you invariably saw through. 

You weren’t stupid. You knew what his deal was—it’s only that you couldn’t do anything about it. You were Namjoon’s for eight wonderful months that were splotchy with the depth of poetry. Words from his heart that would give your life meaning, keep your head up above the surface. You needed those words as you spent your whole girlhood drowning in the sea of FOMO, rowing your arms through the waves of life that never got you anywhere. Seeing the little beauty of day and night of Seoul with your friends paled in comparison with what Namjoon showed you. You always believed that your life would begin with a man by your side—you prayed for it, you waited for it and it became reality. 

But it was not the reality that your body sought in the long run. 

Yes, the sex was great. Significant to your mental development, especially to your female one as you truly did become a woman in his hands, letting the lush girlish version of you die in his palms. As well as the museums, the hikes, the dinner dates that let you in on the complexity of Namjoon’s intellect that you found so profound and full of beauty. 

But as you nearly reached a year with him, your body began to seek more. The flowers beyond the box of your relationship with him—and you knew that those petals carried the scent of Hoseok. 

He liked you. You saw it in the extremity of his purposeful ignorance towards you, in the forced hatefulness he put across, and in the distance he set as a boundary. You saw it, too, in the way he would entertain other women in the bars and glance at you every now and then to make sure you’re seeing what he wants you to see. And it excited you, his interest in you that he kept at bay. 

It was a forbidden fruit that you smelt and smelt, but could never bite into—and it drove you insane. And when he got enlisted in the military, it drove you off a cliff. 

Missing him made you search for him. Not in Namjoon, but in other men. Privately, in your soul. And it cost you your relationship. 

Namjoon was a jealous, possessive man. He would fight with you if you looked at a guy for a beat longer than is necessary and if a half of a smile crept up upon the corner of your lips, he would give you the cold shoulder. An action that cut through you deep enough to make you bleed and you had to put a stop to it. 

You thought talking to him about it like an adult would straighten the road you were walking upon, but like the intelligent man Namjoon is—he knew that what he was giving to you was no longer what you needed. He threw it back at you, using the poetry of his words, and all you could do was be honest with him. Nod your head, tell him he was right, that you were seeking something more. And what surprised you was that Namjoon wasn’t willing to go the extra mile. 

He didn’t consider it. Didn’t mention it. 

He nodded his head, too. And you parted your ways as friends who loved each other and lived an artistic life together. 

And at that moment, a door to your mind opened and Hoseok stepped in. Made a bed, fluffed the pillows, and rested. 

It seems now he has awoken. Rang your doorbell, bashed his fist against the wood and narrowed his eyes at you in his normal fashion. 

An action that weaves a rhythm into that flat, bruised heart of yours. 

His military jacket is slung over his arm. His two black dog tags, hung by a silver chain around his long neck, rattles as the breath of the fresh, autumn evening breezes past, scattering goosebumps along your chocolate-buttered skin. You notice, within the brief silence while you look at each other and exchange words long overdue, that his hair is way shorter. Not buzzed anymore like Namjoon showed you on Hoseok’s first day in the military six months ago, but tousled and sticking out in different directions as if he raked his fingers through the strands a million times over. Your own itch, wrapped around your vape, his beauty heightened by his evident newly-gained manliness washing over you like an icy stream of water. 

You shiver, blaming it internally on the wind, and not on the lightness of the attraction that you feel sinking beneath your skin, overpowering you. 

And that small movement of your body propels Hoseok to speak, at last. 

“I come home to find you single,” he scoffs, his voice deep and raspy, marked possibly by his job in the military. And you feel it marking you just the same, opening windows in the house of your body for that wind to blow in and exhilarate you, help you breathe. “He’s drunk out of his mind, crawling on Jungkook’s lap and you’re here. In your pajamas with a fucking face mask on.” 

Briefly, you furrow your brows, not understanding the meaning of his words. Is he bashing you for not crying your heart out? Or is he bashing his brother for doing whatever it was. Your heart turns halfway, painfully. Those days are gone—those you spent in bed while that broken muscle wept while your body used that time to repose from all the stress it went through, being in an environment it grew out of. 

You sigh, weary of the recollection of that peculiar pain, and show no sight of the turbulence happening within you. “Jungkook must be happy about that.” 

Hoseok chuckles, humorlessly. A chilling noise that erects your bare nipples beneath your pajama button down. Awkwardness slinks down your sternum and you shift your weight on your other foot as Hoseok deepens his gaze down on you. 

Tension settles between you and you use it. You use it, wholeheartedly, as you should have all those months ago. The only thing you ever took advantage of were the touches Namjoon graced your skin with. You’d grab his hand, while Hoseok watched, and bring it underneath the table. Part your mouth, pretending he was touching a sensitive, private place while he was merely drifting his fingers along your thigh. Hoseok would gulp, but he would keep his gaze locked on yours, very much like he’s doing now. It’s the only form of intimate interaction you ever had, save for the heated debates about different things you two did not have in common. 

All else remained hidden in the silence shared between you. 

And it no longer shall. 

If he came all the way here, unannounced, then you shall let fate, one that is enamored with your body, have her way in your life. 

“If you came here to talk about him, then I’m not interested,” you say, letting go of the door and slipping off your face mask, ignoring the hurtful pinpricks along the perimeters of your heart. “If you came here for me, then the door is open.” 

And with that bravery, you pivot on your heel and walk back into the living room, not expecting him to follow you and not expecting him to walk away. You let fate do her thing, and you begin to tap in the essence of the peachy face mask into your skin with quick, gentle slaps. 

You toss the sheet, along with the packaging, into the trash, your hair clipped away from your face whooshing around you with your movement. Kicking off your slides, you hear them bump into something stable, and when you turn around to seek that strange sound, you see Hoseok standing by your armchair near your couch. 

So he did come here for you. You tremble in a different manner, filled with sparks of excitement, and, turning around to sit on the couch, you flush, smiling happily to yourself. 

But all those feelings turn to dust when Hobi kneels by the edge of your couch and fixes your home slippers. Aligns them rightly in front of you so you can comfortably slide your feet into them once you get up. 

Your stomach drops and your fingertips tingle, all of your nerve endings set on blazing fire by that one act of service. 

The first kind thing he’s ever done for you. 

He throws his military jacket over the backrest of the armchair, where he nestles himself. Legs spread, elbows propped on his knees. His long dog tag chain swings back and forth in the sudden, atypical calmness of the atmosphere that you cannot adapt to fully. Not when your mind creates an image of that chain hanging over your face, your neck and your chest when you’re bare and ready for him, laying on your back, all for him to take. 

You bite your lip, tracing the band of your sleep sock with your fingers, and Hoseok’s eyes fall to it. You quickly lift them, sheepish. Distract your mind by opening a package of eye patches and placing them on your dark circles that just won’t leave. His gaze skims over each motion, studying it, wordlessly, and you can’t take it anymore. 

You can’t be the only one who’s brave this evening. 

You take a puff of your vape, inhaling its sweetness, and stare right back at him. A smile, a foolish girlish smile quivers upon your lips. One that you dislike because you did grow out of it, but it seems as though the more you swallow the intensity of his shadowed, violent sea-charged energy, the more you transform back into that little girl you were. 

And the process soaks your panties. 

So much is said in the silence, always has been, but you can’t stand it anymore. 

“You should start talking before I go to bed,” you bite, willing your smile to flatten, and Hoseok kneads his hands. His knuckles bear a faint memory of yellow bruises, veiny and strong as they are, and for a moment you wonder how far his ferocity reaches. 

He showed you little of it. You know he’s capable of doing things that would change you for all eternity, give you a new form that would not wither with age. 

And you yearn for it. Have yearned for it all those months without knowing that was the thing your body sought. The thing Namjoon could never give you. 

Violence. Roughness. The licks of an outraged sea. 

You’re a witness to it sloshing in the pools of his darkened eyes as he chews the provocation you uttered his way. And you can bet he likes the taste. 

“Did he break your heart?” he asks amidst the banana-flavored smoke, his knuckles whitening for a split second as he clenches his fist before relaxing—as if the thought of Namjoon breaking your heart angers him. 

It rouses you, and the way your chest lifts with each breath stimulates your stiffened nipples. The candlelight sways, casting shadows on his worn features, and you’d much rather sit on them than talk about your ex. 

“Did you not hear what I said?” you spit, throwing your vape on the cushion of your couch. Hoseok’s façade splits as he smirks, dropping his gaze for a moment before lifting it back to you. 

He leans back, slouching in the chair. “Answer the question.” 

The sedatedness of his tone stuns you. Your heart begins to thump as well as the bundle of nerves between your folded legs. It has been too long since you had your release. Months upon months. And you’re too weak to not get carried away by these new feelings you’ve shamefully forgotten about. 

The veins from his knuckles travel all the way back to his arms and your brain empties out. Too, too fucking long. You should’ve fooled around with every guy you found attractive, use them for orgasms, make the best of your womanly years, but instead you dwelled at home—in and out of your misery. And now, now it feels as though you’re a virgin, alone for the first time with an older man that enlivens your body. 

And you might as well give him what he asks of you. 

Sucking on your vape for a puff of bravery, you don’t blink as you stare at him through the smoke. You elongate your legs, placing them on the coffee table next to him, your toes facing his outstretched knee, and his eyes, once again, plummet to them. 

“He didn’t break my heart, I broke his,” you say, your words shrouded by that white mist curling out of your mouth, and you watch as his eyes widen en route to yours. 

He didn’t expect that. 

Something about that satisfies you. Selfishly. 

Hoseok runs the pad of his finger across his bottom lip, his head tilted to the side a little bit. “It was about time you did.” 

The searing heat that rushes forward in your cheeks forces your gaze away from him, begs you to look away, but you don’t. A bead of perspiration trickles down your cleavage, one that is visible to him as you couldn’t be bothered to do all the buttons after your shower. But Hoseok’s eyes don’t flick to it. No, he can’t miss this. He can’t miss the gravity of the moment, of the spoken confirmation of the fact that what went on between the two of you for so long is real. You squeeze your thighs together, the thumping in between unbearable, and the longer you bask in his brave words, in the masculinity of his initiative, the more your own poetry begins to rise in you.

If it drags, it’s not meant for you. If it’s fast, it couldn’t wait to meet you. 

And Hoseok notices. It is only when you let out a little, barely hearable sigh that his eyes do travel down to scrutinize your bodily reaction. To your nipples poking through, the shine of your sweat in between your bare breasts, to the friction you’re rubbing—the miniscule grinding movements that you make in order to alleviate yourself of the ache of desperation that you feel. And because you’re baring yourself out for him, he does the unthinkable. 

He lets you see his true face, his façade collapsing at his big, sock-clad feet. 

Hoseok lifts his hips, hides behind the pretense that he’s just making himself more comfortable, but in reality he did it to turn your attention to his lower region. His length, semi-hard yet still long, stands out, protruding from the camo of his pants and you’re hot, hot all over. 

The thumping worsens—and you need him, all of him, to make it better. 

Perceiving that he’s succeeded in his strategy by the way you just won’t stop ogling him, he blushes and hides it, in vain, with outstretched fingers spread across his face. As if he was doing his signature idol move. It’s a riveting sight to behold, a seemingly cold person growing warm from you gaping at that private part of him. 

And you want more. You want to see more places of his body that are flushed. And you want it now. 

“It was about time you and I talked alone, don’t you think?” you ask, following on from his previous statement. All that pining, those stolen glances, that distance—all that tension advances forward now, stronger than ever.

Hoseok can feel it, too. At your words, his manhood grows harder and his breathing quickens. He tries to stabilize it, but he fails. He fails even when he returns to his original position with his elbows propped on his knees. That chain of his swings with more momentum, teasing you, and you place your legs even closer towards him, and upon witnessing the light flash in his eyes, you realize that you teased him right back. 

The man likes feet.

You draw in a sharp breath when he fists both of your feet in one hand, brushing his thumb over the tips of your toes. The first touch in this lifetime, the first time upon your new virgin body, so intimate, private; he might as well have wrapped a blanket around them with how warm his hand is, secure and trustful. Goosebumps flood your skin, bringing in the iciness that you felt when you took in his beauty against the background of the trees and the moonlight. And its beams must be stitched around his fingers because daintiness clasps you close, the notion that you’re taken care of, in good hands, descending upon you like the most delicate feather tickling you, and you let it—you let it consume you. 

And you let his following question consume you just as much. 

“Were you in love with him?” 

It’s a question you never had the bravery to ask yourself in the two months you’ve been single, but it is here and you welcome it. You hear it whisper to you the hint of your answer and your body is smart enough, capable enough to figure it out. 

No need for long nights of overthinking. 

No need for long hours of listening to your heart crack.

“No, I was used to him—that’s different,” you hush out and the moon lowers herself, spilling through your windows, bathing you in a milky light that feels as welcoming, as right as your confession. And maybe, just maybe it’s the way the shining stream submerges in your neediness that drives you to be bratty. And briefly, before you do, you ponder over the fact how in your life shared with this person drives, moves forward. There’s never a still time—and you find that mesmerizing. Enough for you to simply brood in greed. “What’s it to you?” 

Hoseok flinches. Parts his mouth. His chain rattles and his fingers squeeze the balls of your feet, coaxing a hum out of you that is immediately silenced by his sudden outburst. 

“What’s it to me?” 

There it is. Another plot point. Your heart hammers. 

Hoseok lets go of your feet and you lament the absence. Stands up and towers over you, the moonshine soaking him in divine light that causes your breath to hitch in your throat. A faint layer of sweat has coasted along his hairline and settled there—and you long to swim in his bodily fluids. In the persona of his, in the tumultuous sea of the tension locked within him. 

“You’re genuinely asking me this question?” he pressures, lifting your legs in order to step in between them, and the unthinkable visits you once again. He props his hands on either side of your head and those two dog tags swing in your face. 

A wet patch forms in the center of your pajamas. Your breath mirrors his—hasty, deep and strained—and you can’t take it anymore. 

How far into this road of bravery until the moon averts its opaque eyes away from your sin? 

You arch your spine, hook your fingers on his dog tags and pull him a little closer. Breathe his air, breathe in his masculine, musky scent that intoxicates your senses to the point that there is absolutely nothing stopping you from getting dragged in the natural flow of this situation. 

“Yes, Hoseok. What’s it to you?” 

He pants. Glides, delicately, his fingers along your arm until he winds up at your small fist, clutching it in his as if it was his. And that warmth, you want to dip your head in it. 

“I had to watch you sit in that chair and not crack a smile. Sit next to him like an obedient girl, not allowed to speak. To me,” he grunts, tightening his lips, and that anger of his seeps into you, becoming yours. “He didn’t deserve you. You’re not a pretty toy. You’re a person.” 

He straightens but, panicking, you draw him right back by that chain. “Don’t fucking walk away from me.” 

He seethes and you feel your essence trickling down your thigh. That sea, inching forward, you whimper. And then he spreads that warmth over the crown of your head, rubbing your hairline just once with his thumb before he peels off your eye patches that you have forgotten about. 

And this is when your brows curl. This is the time that says there’s no going back. 

“I talked to you. We fought, don’t you remember?” 

He sweeps that digit over that soaked dark circle of yours underneath your eye. “What do you think would’ve happened to you if I talked to you nicely?” 

Cold shoulder. Uncomfortable time of forced aloneness, filled with the abyss of guilt that you had done something wrong. A toy that didn’t move its lifeless limbs right by his will. 

“I’ve known him for far longer than you. I know how he treats those he thinks he loves. I brushed it away with the others, but with you… I couldn’t. You were so full of life that was stuck in you because of him. Because he didn’t let you let it out. And I can’t forgive him for that.” 

What life? The one you searched for all your girlhood, the one Namjoon molded with his own hands until it no longer recognized the once-familiar lines of his palm? The one that yearned for Hoseok instead? 

A film of tears clouds your eyes and as hard as you try to blink them away, they linger, pooling at your waterline like sea foam. You need your vape, you need him inside you—you can’t face the mirror of the reality of that unfair treatment. 

How blind you were; how Hoseok has become that guiding stick. 

“Don’t forgive him,” you utter, grasping his chain tighter, drawing him even closer, making his breath tremble. The first tear that pours out leaks into the print of his thumb and at the sound of your soft cry, Hoseok topples. Kneels on the couch with your legs on either side of him and you pull, you pull him closer. 

“Do you want me?” he asks—a foolish, foolish question. Presses his forehead against yours, cups your face with both hands now while his back shakes and you touch it, you drag your fingernails down those prominent muscles. And he sighs, so desperately, so tenderly. “Do you want me to let out that life in you?” 

“Yes,” you whisper, sliding your hands underneath his black shirt, scratching the lowest part of his warm, warm waist before hooking your fingers on the waistband of his pants. It’s his—it always belonged to him. “Take me. Here.” 

He brushes his nose against yours, your breath and his singular. “You’re so feisty.” Lips nearly touch yours and your lungs give out on you, your air coming out in pathetic staccatos that make him growl, subduedly. Muscles rigid, bundle of nerves devoutly pulsing. Please, please. “But no.” 

The world implodes, the mocking shimmer of that planetary light gushing through—hand in hand with sobriety. 

But Hoseok, the prince of the unthinkable, dips your head back into that darkness. Lifts you by your armpits and sets you down on his lap, his hard length against your core uprearing your need for release. 

A hand sailing down your neck, your sternum, acknowledging itself with your respiration. “Don’t give it to me that easily.” 

Your own cages him there, right at the apex of the fleshiness of your breasts. “Jebal, Hobi.” 

Please, Hobi. You drive, in his fashion, your hips forward—ever so slightly. His eyes round at the mellow variation of his name wandering out of your mouth and wrapping around his neck, as if the gentleness you give him pains him, transforms into a noose around his vocal cords and he can’t speak. 

He sighs, the noise melting into a soft, low-pitched moan. “Don’t beg me,” he croaks out, so terribly strung out. “I’m-I’m—”

You lengthen your spine, closing your mouth over that one spot on the side of his throat that you can reach, silencing him. He doesn’t need to speak—you’re fine with the tacit language of his hands. And the taste of his skin, that fucking warmth dissolving upon your tongue, you can’t help but to moan just the same against him like that, rocking your hips awfully, awfully slowly, driving him to the point of madness that he stood at the edge of for so long. 

“I want you to touch me,” you murmur, tugging his hand lower to the first done button of your silky shirt and it’s him who hooks his fingers over that fabric now. You lick a stripe across the thick vein of his throat, grinding a little harder when you hear him suck in a pained breath. “I want you to feel that life in me and know it’s yours. Jebal, Hoseokie.” 

He grunts, ripping you away from him. You expect his eyes to be narrowed in that typical manner of his, but they’re not. They’re soft, round and glossy, looking down at you, unblinking. A face you’ve never seen before, that feels too, too significant—and you’re not sure if you deserve to get a load of it. Of his pinkish cheeks and downturned mouth, of his fingers agonizingly sluggishly undoing the first button of your shirt. 

Of his sentimentality that you never thought he was so efficient at. 

The sea that has remotely stilled—but you’re still riding the lenient waves, your torso curving with each button popping off as he engraves his warmth into your cold, cold skin. And once he reaches the very last one, he stops. Holds your shirt together, squishing your breasts, waiting for you to lift your head out of the sea water. 

And you do. 

He inches forward, grazing his lips against yours, making you feebly cry out. 

“Did you cry for him?” 

Your cry prolongs, vexation splattering over your arousal, and you’ve had enough of it. You flick your eyes between his, drawing back, flattening your lips in that anger of his that seems to be still flowing in you somewhere. No more, no more Namjoon; no more talk of your past relationship. It’s over, it’s over.

“Stop fucking—”

Hoseok doesn’t relent. Sinks his fingers into the roots of your hair at the nape of your neck to make you listen. “Did you cry for him?” 

Your heart wept, but your eyes didn’t. The tear you shed in front of him was the only liquid emotion that spilled out of you since the day of the break up. “No.” 

He blows a heavy breath of relief that oddly validates you—and light opens in your sensitive bosom. “Good girl.” 

And it is now that Hoseok presses his chest, his dog tags against that light of yours and clamps his mouth down on your top lip, hoisting you a tiny bit to sit you right down on his manhood. His strong arm wraps around your back while the other floats down and curls around your bum, growling into the kiss that he deepens. And then he parts your lips with his, slipping his tongue inside, and the dam breaks between your legs—as well as the quick little whines and squeaks that begin to leak out of your mouth and into his. 

The life in you throbs. 

His cock hardens even more underneath you and he pushes your clit against it, his noises and yours growing louder and louder in tandem until he’s breathless, panting so vivaciously that he needs a moment. A moment to focus on the mess he’s created of you, a glowing ball of rosiness, the prettiest of all flowers—and you feel like it, being looked at like that. 

“I knew you were smart,” he coos, peppering feathery kisses upon your cheek, jaw and chin, descending to the base of your neck. You moan out, fisting his shirt below his collarbones, the continuation of his validation for you nesting in your core. “That life in you will always win. No matter what.” 

You believe him—in fact, there’s nothing left for you to do, but to submit, submit and submit. And it feels like entering a dream that is kind, a reality that appears to be a dream, but is better. An existence smeared with clemency, where you can be a little girl again. 

“Touch it, please.” 

Hoseok hums, kissing the cleft between your clavicles. Shifts forward on the couch so you can rest your spine on the backrest, your head against the wall, and he slides his palms upward from your tummy to the apex of your breasts. You whine, torturously, at the contact, and you shudder and double over when he swipes his thumbs over your still stiffened nipples, buzzing shocks of acute pleasure coursing down your body, rooting in your clit that asks for his fingers, his tongue, but he remains where he is. Transfixed, starving, ravaged. 

He kneads your breasts like he kneaded his hands, with overpowering strength that quickens your blood flow, your body submitting to him and flushing like his does. A sliver of skin that your shirt exposes catches his attention—and at the sight of the flesh of your breasts spilling through, his cock twitches, his breath ragged, eyes droopy and so, so drunk. He pinches your nipples, still through that silken fabric, as if he was punishing you for causing him this unfair pain. 

Knead, flick, pinch. Your noises are obnoxious, his heat in you rising and rising, and you can’t take it anymore. The drum in your clit thuds and you push him away, the pleasure too overwhelming, too good and too arousing. 

And he pushes away the fabric, revealing your perky breasts. A glint settles on the edge of his irises and he gives you a coy smile before he smashes his mouth against yours, moving it in a rhythm that reflects the one in your bundle of nerves. And you grind, you grind like your life depends on it, your nipples and your pussy rubbing against him, against his icy dog tags, getting you closer and closer to your orgasm. And you would come like this had he not physically ripped you away from him. 

Heaving, he focuses, all over again, on the ruination he makes of you. The warmth in you flits so invitingly that you have to touch the places he did—your stomach, your sternum, your breasts. And as you do, you watch his gaze darken, you watch him nod his head, and wipe the corner of his mouth clean, catching his drool. 

“You feel it, don’t you?” he rasps, following the invisible traces you left on your body. Your stomach, your sternum, your breasts. “Right here. Life. Beautiful life.” He teases your hardened nub, circling it with the pads of his fingers, sliding it between his knuckles and squeezing, his smile growing with each shudder of your chest, with each response. “It’s time to make you come and let it out, you ready? Let’s take these off.” 

He tugs off your pajama pants, throws it behind his shoulder, examines the large wet stain on your panties that he coos at, raspily, petting it with his thumb—and you’re so turned on that even such faint touch like that brings you pleasure. You hold onto his arms for dear life, depending on him, trembling when the panties and the shirt are next, tossed upon the pile of your pants. 

You’re bare and he’s still fully dressed. Such titillating unfairness that turns you unhinged, maddened by liveliness your body is diffused with. 

Hoseok pins your legs back. Takes one hand and glides his fingers across your entire femininity, soaking them in the dew he has coaxed out of you, moaning gutturally. 

“He never made you wet like this, did he?” he asks, pride dripping out of him like his masculine pheromones, and with his wet fingers he palms himself. “You don’t even have to answer that. I know. I need to taste you, baby.” 

You don’t even get to fill a lungful of the stuffed, vanilla-scented air and he dives in, keeping your legs glued to your shoulders as he seizes your clit in his mouth, sucking on it briefly before he flattens his tongue all over you. He licks you like a lost man finding an oasis, humming into your heat while he tastes your personal slickness, swallowing everything he sowed. You bang your head on the wall, a numbed pang expanding all throughout your scalp by your claw clip, taking it all, moaning so loudly the whole of Seoul must be hearing you. Even Namjoon in his drunkenness, shameful that he never managed to eat you like this in the eight months you were his to consume. 

Your orgasm inches to you quickly. With half-lidded eyes, you watch the candlelight create sublime, eccentric images on his back. And as if he couldn’t handle the warmth anymore, he peels himself away from you just to take off his shirt, adding it to the pile. He doesn’t let you see his muscular body—he plunges back down, tongue outstretched, flicking the muscle on your swollen clit. He pinches your thigh, your mound, your folds, whimpering onto your flesh, hurrying to close his mouth over you to suck your clit. 

And within that divine suction, you come apart. The beautiful images on his back advance, fluttering on his smooth skin, and you hold him to yourself. The life in you explodes, saturating him in a dimmed, soft-hued, colorful light that he himself must be sensing because he moans, loudly, sinking his index finger inside your clenching hole. You can’t speak, you can’t breathe—you can only feel, you can only take. Your orgasm continues on, a ceaseless stream of delight untwisting in every part of your body. 

And when he begins to fuck you with that finger of his and hits that good spot, your orgasm melts into another one. And this time, you can’t take it. 

You shake so vivaciously that you fall off the edge of the couch, but he catches you. Hoseok unclips your hair and lays you down, propping your hips on the armrest instead and when he bends at the waist and opens his mouth, you scream out your disagreement, pushing him away. 

He blinks at you, mouth sopping wet. “I wasn’t finished.” 

Your oxygen is stuck in your throat, one that gets bespeckled with the beads of your dew. “Hoseokie—”

He traces it, wiping it off, holding you there. Presses his hard, clothed length against your bare pussy, rocking slowly, casting a private, affection-filled shadow with the arch of his body over yours. Hoseok kisses you once, a nasty kiss perfumed with your tangy scent, and you cry out. 

“The fact you can’t take the bare minimum personally offends me. He had you all to himself and he didn’t do his job well,” he mutters, squeezing your throat once. Drags his wet hand down your sternum, grasping a hold of both of your breasts, clenching them until they flush, again, like him. 

There it is, the saltiness of his sea. You yearn for the physical principle of it coating your tongue—for his cum to trickle out of the tip of it like your dew is off of his. And his words, his anger towards his best friend because of you—it heals you in a way you could never heal yourself. Another person seeing you and telling you that you deserve better, it is the most pristine form of remedy there is and you splutter on the whole beauty and compassion of it all, too weak to accept it at once. 

“That’s right,” you agree, as enthusiastically as your dopeness allows you, smiling lopsidedly, heart pounding. “Go slow on me.”

He croons, squeezing his eyes. “My little girl.” 

He buries his face in your neck, kissing you there, and along with the life in you—your heart explodes, too. The finality of your detransformation. Tears of joy ache in the corners of your eyes, the rawness of human fulfillment housing in you for all eternity. 

He kisses his way down to your breasts. “I’ll go slow on you,” he promises, darting out his tongue and flicking it over your nub, making you tremble. He straightens and dances his fingers along your thighs—up to your knees. “Do you want to stop here?” 

You shake your head. Place your feet flat on his toned stomach while you feel your dew dribble down your bum. Hoseok smiles, his mouth curving in that way of his that causes your own stomach to drop. He holds your heels, hooking his finger under the band of your socks and yanking them off. 

And his grin blooms at the sight of your dusty-pink toes, an endeared look thawing his eyes. He rubs them like he did at the beginning of this journey, keeps one at his stomach while he lifts the other one to his mouth. 

Your poor heart skips a beat. 

“Do you want me to fuck you like a little girl like you deserves?” 

He kisses the ball of your foot, doesn’t break the eye contact. Watches your mouth part in absolute astonishment and your cheeks deepen in their hue. And when he kisses it again, slower this time, it wakes you up from your stupefaction, and you lower your free foot down to his clothed cock. Hoseok groans, the sound muffled against your tootsie, shutting his eyes at the impact. Your chest flickers with a sense of pride that you made him react like that—and you want it again. You trail your toes across that length of his, but before you could reach the most sensitive part of him, he stops you. 

Sucks in that pained breath of his, red all over. 

“If you keep doing that, I’m gonna come.” 

You mirror him, the idea of being capable of doing that to him pleasuring you. You leak onto the couch. Your blood boils. 

“That’s so hot.” 

He chuckles, anchoring your foot upon his heart, tapping it with your big toe. “It’s because you have my heart.” 

Your body ceases all work, as well as time. Even the candlelight pauses its dance, concentrating its caressing radiance on that chain of his. 

And you don’t think as you scurry onto your knees and embrace him, his dog tags no longer icy. He plants his nose into your hair, inhaling you, sealing you into the hug with both of his arms. Your heart reaches its own towards his and they cling to each other, too. 

And you’re not afraid to reciprocate his feelings—they’re as clear to you as that very luminescence of the vanilla candle. 

“You have me,” you whisper into his ear, his body not quivering but stable, safe. “You have my life. It’s more of a treasure than my heart.” 

He had you the moment he so evidently disapproved of your past relationship. He had you the moment he was curious to see if you were jealous when he was entertaining other women. He had you the moment he purposefully put a distance between you and him because he didn’t want you to get hurt by Namjoon. 

You just didn’t know it yet, not until clarity arose in front of you in the form of his honesty. 

Hoseok kisses your own ear, lingers there. “I want both.” 

“Then, have it.”

And he kisses your forehead. “Thank you. I’ll take care of it.” 

You can see in the ivory mist of his eyes that he means it—and so you tug off his military belt as you begin to pepper kisses down the column of his neck because he deserves it, because he cares for you, because he came to you as soon as he heard that you were single. And when you reach those dog tags, the words of his title imprinting themselves onto the surface of your lips, you clasp his cock in your hand. Too big for your small fist, too warm for you to handle—

“Lay back down.” 

You bite into the flesh right above that first steel pendant while keeping your eyes locked on his. “Yes, Sergeant.” 

Hoseok curses. Wrings a sharp gasp out of you when he pulls on your hair, giving you a nasty kiss full of tongue. “Don’t call me that when I need to be gentle with you,” he scolds, sucking on your bottom lip to make it better and you disintegrate. “Right now I would bend you over this couch and fuck you until Sergeant and Sir was all you knew, but I can’t do that. Not when you’re not used to me yet.” 

Yes, the promise of the sea—you convulse from head to toe, pining after it. 

“I want that so bad.” 

He nods, marking you on your neck. You whimper and he groans in response. “And I’ll give it to you, you just need to be good now. Lay down.” 

You comply, but you take him with you—grabbing him by that chain as you arch your back on the couch. He lets you, grins at you like the utmost sunshine, but that expression of delight breaks when a certain realization dawns upon him. 

“I didn’t bring any condoms.” 

You huff out a soft noise. “Good. I want you to come all over me.” 

Hoseok hangs his head low, sighing, on all fours above you. His chain swings, drawing the memory of this very night on your breasts. He looks up at you from this position, his eyes thin slits that cause you to clench around nothing. 

“I’ll give you a big load.” 

You beam like the purest angel, in spite of the context. “Yes, please.” 

Hoseok rolls his eyes back, his façade cracking, and he beams just the same, his mouth widening in the shape of a heart that moves through you. He kisses you deeply, a long peck that breaks you down into a putty, and when he withdraws, you can still see that smile plastered on his glowing face. 

“Good girl. Such good manners.” 

And with that praise, he sheathes himself inside you. You both gasp in union, entering a paradise no other human will ever witness in the afterlife. He stretches you out, slowly, careful not to hurt you as he waits it out, petting your hair in the meantime. 

“I can feel you stretching around me, fuck. You’re so warm, so tight for me,” he rasps, panting, that smile trembling on his lips as he tries to keep it together. He straightens, pinches your nipple and you feel yourself accommodating him quicker at that sudden electricity of pleasure, at the sight of his toned body and that chain. The shine of sweat, the dance of the candlelight, the width of his shoulders and carmine chest as it heaves in desperate hums and groans. You could come just from that—and the sensation is so dizzying that your eyes droop. Hoseok notices, grappling the crook between your neck and shoulder. “Stay with me, baby, you can take this. I’m gonna make you feel so good and you’re gonna come on this cock.” 

Those hums of his cruise all the way to your mouth as he sinks that encouragement into it, kissing you deeply, pinning your hands back above your head and sliding his fingers into a celestial intertwinement with yours. They throb within you, those words of his, where they disperse all around, helping you believe that you truly can take the whole manliness of him. Your mind spins, the pressure of your shared atmosphere ringing in your ears, and he knows, he knows that you’re ready for him.

“I’m gonna start moving now. Talk to me, baby. Tell me everything you’re feeling as I fuck you,” he murmurs, unsheathing himself a tiny bit before he curls his hips forward and upwards, creating a languid, spine-tingling rhythm that replicates the waves of his sea. They slosh to and fro with every slow stroke and he kisses your good spot with the tip of his cock. Your eyes flutter open and close, rolling like those waves, but you can still see the way his jaw is clenched, his gums on full show as he seethes in his self-control, the flush of his neck and the flexing of his abdomen that you can’t help but to touch in your otherworldly daze. He stares down at you, intensely, narrows his eyelids and furrows his brows when he feels your touch, and you discover that the spot, where his V-lines lead to your antidote, is one of uttermost sensitivity. 

He moans, burying himself deep in you, and stopping there. Mound to mound, soul to soul.

“Fuck, baby, you just know where all my spots are, don’t you?” he asks, his voice so terribly strained, torso doubled over, and you grin. 

“I think I was born already knowing them,” you flirt and Hoseok pounds into you for it—a singular thrust that scrambles all your brain cells. Your smile falls, your brows crunch, your throat utters such whiny noise that he himself grunts at the sound of it, and when you lift yourself onto your elbows to see his length driving in and out of you, he pushes you right down by your throat, kissing you hard enough that it hurts.

And he alleviates the lip lock by licking over your tongue, toying with it—all while he, little by little, picks up the rhythm, fucking into you with a force that coaxes your rawest moans out of you. 

“You can’t handle my tongue and I can’t handle it when you flirt with me,” he scoffs, smacking his mouth as he turns his head, claiming your mouth, claiming you. “God, I wanna destroy you so bad.” 

Your cry is cut out by another savage thrust and you claw at that sensitive spot of his, inciting him to do it again and again. “I’m yours to destroy.” 

He pauses, the crown of his cock teasing the beginning of your heat. Sweat drips down his temple and he runs a hand through his hair, messing it up in a way that makes your heart twitch in absolute sensuality and relish. 

“Say that again.” 

Your breath hitches. “I’m yours to destroy.” 

Hoseok curses, driving into you all the way. You whine out, clenching your fists, feeling every ridge and every vein of his cock glide forwards and backwards along your walls. And by tensing your body and focusing on the delight he’s gracing your body with, the build-up of your orgasm announces its presence.

“Fuck, Hobi, you feel so good,” you cry, gripping his forearms as he begins to hold your waist steady. He jackhammers into you so viciously that your vision scatters with a creamy hue of ivory, moaning in ragged staccatos that influence you so much that you naturally imitate them, fading into him, becoming one. 

“Whose are you?” he growls without interfering with the gracefulness of his sadism, moving back only an inch before slamming back into you, bruising your cervix—and you lose all brain cells, the synapses blanking out. 

But only one thing is clear. 

“I’m yours.” 

And the following snap of his hips drives you out of this world and out of this universe. The gravity keeps your muscles tense, confining your pleasure and the closeness of your orgasm within. The ringing grows in volume and you’re on the cusp. 

Hoseok is, too, because he begins to beg. 

“Please, please, baby. Come for me. I’m so fucking close for you. Please, I’m gonna come all over you.” 

And with a scream that vibrates through the walls of your living room, you comply. Your core grips him, your skin prickles and you levitate—your back arches off the couch, aching to be closer to him, and Hoseok whines. 

Pulls out, straddles you, and fist-fucks his shaft with frantic, frenzied motions. Covers you with ropes and ropes of his cum that ripple on your stomach, your sternum and your breasts as you drift in and out of consciousness. Warm, warm essence of his masculinity that is warmer than the rest of him. 

Blood-hot. 

And you feel as though you deserved every drop. 

Deserved to see the beauty of his orgasm. The flush of his lower regions, especially. The sight you longed to see. 

Hoseok lets go of his manhood, his hand shiny and wet, though he’s still hard, reaching the beginning of your parting lungs with how big he is. Bigger than Namjoon, bigger than anyone you ever dated. Their names wither in your mind, decomposing. And they lose all meaning. 

They cease to exist. 

You’re not his best friend’s ex. You’re not anyone’s ex—

“Look at how little you are,” Hoseok comments, interrupting the surge of your maddened thoughts. He smears the puddle of cum on your stomach that his cock can reach and your pussy flutters in constant motions that ask for him again. “So little under me and all mine, aren’t you?” 

His avowal brings a fresh dose of oxygen into your lungs and you breathe it in. Want to breathe it in for the rest of your life with him. 

But Hoseok doesn’t stop there. Once you agree with him by the nod of your head and a dopey, gratified grin that casts an affirming light on him, he bends over you, his fists on either side of your head. 

“I’ll show you what true possessiveness looks like. The world will burn if it hurts you and if people say one bad word to you, it will be the last one they ever said. But they will talk to you and you will talk to them. You will learn about this life of yours. What it holds, what it looks like. And I’ll be standing beside you and I’ll watch over you. Learn it, live it with you.” 

He rubs your forehead with his thumb in a fond gesture. Looks at you with a mute meaning that touches your heart and crawls inside before he kisses you, relaxes his lips against yours, and kisses you again. 

Again and again. 

Again in the shower. Again in your bed when you’re riding him, tasting the life he let out of you, because you blazed up with desire after you washed his body. And the sex is quiet, smothered with those kisses until your mouth and his is numb. 

And again throughout the years you acknowledge yourself with that life and realize that you understand it more profoundly and clearly in the process of getting to know Hoseok than this world. 

Hoseok is that life. 

And you kiss him and whisper those words onto his mouth when you marry him at the altar, years and years later, connecting your life and his forever. 

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah,@fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan, @euphoricmyth, @jungkoock, @cinmmongirl, @hoseokkie-caeks, @kam9404, @fr0ggieth1nk.

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

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[anarcho-mom-unist]

Could you imagine if a conversation about public health could happen in like any context without the specter of The Fatties being brought up as a clearer and more present danger than whatever is the actual topic at hand.

[nivisdreaming]

Kinktober Day 1: Size - Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

WC: 1.1k

CW: Size play, predator/prey dynamics, established relationship, piv penetration, no protection, creampie, teasing, praise, sub!reader, dom!miguel, subspace implied, reader gets fucked so good she passes out, aftercare is included

Notes: first time writing for miguel? pog? also welcome to kinktober everyone its gonna get freaky >:)

Miguel is constantly pinning you to things. He’s not even doing it on purpose necessarily, he’s just so big.

It’s not his fault that he’ll reach for something over your head, or try to scooch behind you in the kitchen or hallway, and all of a sudden you’re pushed against the nearest surface being towered over by a 6’9 spider hybrid.

What is his fault is how he abuses it once he realizes how flustered it makes it. He’s always been very perceptive when it came to you. He knows how your cheeks flush red with embarrassment, how your breath hitches, and your thighs squeeze together in need, right as you look upward to view him caging you in. It always gives a sickening ego boost. You’re just so small compared to him. Breakable. Fragile. Delicate. Delicious.

He starts subtlety. Sneaking behind you when you’re making morning coffee, hovering behind when you work at your desk, and of course, getting you down on your knees for him whenever possible. It doesn’t take long to escalate however, coming to a head one night before he is set to attend a Spider Society gala with you as his plus one.

You slide the dress up your body carefully, allowing the snug material to cling tight around your breasts in its strapless style. You straighten it out and peered over your shoulder to call, “Miggy? Can you come zip me up please?”

You adjust your hair and makeup in the mirror as you listen to his lumbering footsteps, smiling when he appears behind you, his eyes tracing over your curves in the reflection. He takes a step closer, and the way his shoulders dwarf yours causes your breath to hitch. He slides a hand up your side and another comes to rest on the back of your neck. You open your mouth to make the request again, but the air is knocked out of you as he pushes forwards, pinning you firmly to the floor-length mirror without looking away from his scanning of your body.

“Sweet, tiny little thing. You’re so easy to push around, aren’t you, mi princesa?” He pushes his hips forward to rut against your ass, and your eyes nearly roll to the back of your head from the combo of his growling tone and his hot erection against you. He leans down to nip at your earlobe before muttering, “I know you love how much bigger than you I am. Does it make you feel all funny? To know how I could wreck you, how I could turn you into my cowering prey, stuck underneath me? It makes your brain all fuzzy. And it makes your cunt dripping wet.” He uses the hand on your side to tug up the dress, exposing your bare ass. He scoffs at the lewdity and gives one of the round globes a spank, forcing a whimper from you.

You watch him in the mirror as he blocks you in on all sides while running a finger down to your folds, teasingly sliding it against your entrance before bringing it to his month to suck off the slick. He hums in approval and moves his arms to sit on either side of your head, leaving you boxed in but free to move against him.

“Spin around. I wanna look you in the eyes while I stretch your tight pussy to it’s breaking point, and if I see you look away I will make sure neither of us sees this event tonight.”

You gulp and slowly twirl around, having to crane your neck to meet his eyes even as he leers down at you. He places a hand over yours and coaxes it to the front of his crotch, using you to squeeze at his bulge before instructing you to undo the zipper and pull him out. You obey without hesitation, allowing him to tug down the top of your dress and reveal your tits as you do. His cock springs eagerly from its confines, precum already leaking from the tip that has flushed a deep purple.

Instinctively you try to drop down to your knees, your clouded headspace demanding that you needed to gag around him as soon as possible, but he manhandles you back up and off the ground with your wrists above your head and legs wrapped around his slutty waist. The rough force has you moaning softly, eyes already glazed over despite the lack of direct stimulation. It makes him chuckle darkly.

He lines his tip up with your entrance and gives no warning before sliding in with a single thrust. The slick dripping down your thighs is plenty of lube as he begins an earth-shattering pace, hips slamming into yours and tip kissing your cervix with every thrust. He leans down and vigorously sucks and bites around your breasts, littering them with hickeys while you cry on his cock, sobbing hysterically from pleasure.

He pulls away from his marking to take in your appearance, at the fat globs of tears gathering on your cheeks make his hips stutter and his abs tense. “God, princesa, feels so good to corrupt you like this,” he switches his grip from your hip to your tummy so he can thumb at your clit, “So ruined for me. Molded this tiny cunt to my dick, so it’s perfect just for me.” You whimper at the praise, jaw dropping open and tongue lolling out as he slides against the spongey spot inside you and rubs fast circles around your bundle of nerves.

“That’s it, my good little girl. So delicate, just gotta take care of you by breaking that poor little brain every once and awhile. Go ahead sweet thing, cum on me, show me how good little prey thank the predators.” His words send you spinning into the abyss, everything in your body pulling taunt and then snapping back as your vision goes from white to black and suddenly you’re so light and floaty that you can’t feel the way you soak Miguel’s cock, nor the way he cums deep inside you as your walls milk him dry. You don’t feel him carry you to the bed, or feel him drag the damp cloth between your legs. You don’t feel how he kisses both your cheeks in hopes of getting your eyes to flutter open, to no avail.

What you do feel is when he pulls your trembling body against his broad chest, rubbing up and down on your arms softly and whispering to you. “Mi amor, you gotta come back to me now. Open up those eyes for me. You did so good for me baby, surprised you made it as long as you did without passing out on my dick. C’mon, wakey wakey corazón.” His words are encouragement enough to float back downwards, settling into his touch until you have enough strength to pull your eyelids open and peer up at him with large doe-eyes. “Aw, welcome back little girl. Te amo.”

[solbaby7]

Good Enough to Eat

pairing: azriel x reader

warnings: porn with little plot, the less obvious take on size-kink, swearing, minors DNI, size kink, implied pre-existing friendship with almost in a relationship/mated undertones? whatever tickles ur fancy, prolly typos

summary: Azriel never really took a notice to little things—until you.

—

If Azriel was being honest with himself, he could admit he’d gotten carried away.

He just hadn’t remembered ever noticing it before—how large his frame was in comparison to a female. Not until you came around with a body too small to put into words with five times as much fire inside to make up for it.

He'd lost count of how many times his mind had wandered to less than savory places in your presence; fixating on the strain of your neck when peering up to look him in the eye as you rambled on about your day. A low hum of distant acknowledgment rumbles through his chest, an attempt to seem like he was paying attention to the words coming of your mouth instead of fixating on the inviting plush of your lips. "Az, are you even listening to me?"

"Of course," A lie saturated in sweet honey and presented on a golden platter but you eat it up all the same, smiling up at him with a knowing look buried in your iris. "Keep going."

There's a brief pause--a hesitation where you contemplate questioning that faraway look etched in his features. You decide against it, shaking it off with a little laugh before continuing where you left off.

Azriel hangs onto every quirk of your lip, the etherial glow that emanated from your form as the midday sun bristles through thin curtains. Such glorious beauty enhanced by the abyss of black that draped enticingly over your chest, twisting and crossing at your midriff until it blended seamlessly into the flowy little skirt that teased at your thighs.

He drinks in every inch of bared skin, fingers clenching into fists of barely contained want when picturing those legs thrown over his shoulders with your body propped against any surface sturdy enough to withstand your weight and his mouth buried between your...

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

A mix of guilt and embarrassment should burn in Azriel's chest for being caught not paying attention but with his brain so lost in the clouds, the truth just seems to spill right out. "You're so cute." A blush grows at the apples of your cheeks, neck jerking forward just a little to push your hair against your face to hide but Azriel has already seen it—already grown addicted to it and yearns for more. "Like a little doll. Makes me want to carry you around everywhere and see how high I can throw you."

"I've killed men three times your size."

"Even cuter, a murderous little kitten."

Your nose scrunches, lips poking into a pout and when your arms raise to cross at your chest in defiance. Azriel nearly groans with need, mouth salivating at the thought of marking that skin with endless reminders of who you belonged to. “I’m far from feline and I’m not little.”

Azriel’s brow raises in silent challenge, his hands moving before he can second guess himself and in an instant you become weightless. The surprised cry that pulls free is instinctual when you’re thrown about, limbs grasping at open air for purchase. “I don’t know,” He muses, catching you and flipping you over his back with an annoying ease. “You feel like lightwork to me.”

To and fro he twists you about, a bright smile stamped on his mouth when your frightened shouts shift into unrestrained giggles and grabby hands for stability. “Azriel,” The syllables are broken up from your choppy breaths, cheeks red and thoughts scrambled. “Put me down.”

“Put you down? I hadn’t even noticed I picked you up to begin with.”

“Azriel,” You repeat, more urgency in your cadence when you feel the soft fabric of your skirts teasing up the smooth length of your legs. “I’m serious—my dress!”

“What a dress it is,” The calloused drag of his hand is sinful when sliding its way up the back of your leg, working the material up, up, up until the chilled breeze from the opened window hits your exposed flesh. “I’m a little more interested in whats under it though.” A low groan pulls from his chest when his golden gaze eats up the pale blue pair of sheer panties. Azriel could feel the thin grip he had on his restraint slipping until nothing was left in his grasp but the hypnotizing malleability of your ass. “Not so little down here, huh?”

You should tell him to stop.

You could easily use that training Cassian taught you to wiggle from Azriel’s hold and throw him to the ground as reparations.

But like the whore you are, your hips raise ever so slightly, urging his inquiring touch to shift a few inches further. “Not sure if I can say the same about you.”

Azriel’s low chuckle rumbles against your belly, his nose training up the exposed curve of your hip before he’s shifting you once more. It’s more careful this time—his hand placement more intentional when sliding you down his front, hooking your legs at his hips until you’re forced to meet his eye. “Are you brave enough to find out?”

Breath hitches, snippy words caught in the back of your throat as Azriel crossed this imaginary line drawn in the sand with all of these implicating touches. You swear your heart is fixing to lurch from your chest from the anticipation of it all, thighs clenching tighter around his waist and before you can restrain yourself—hips roll against the hard bulge straining against his breeches. “Guess so,” You utter back, pupils blown out and fingers starting their exploration in the softness of Azriel’s messy ebony strands.

A groan pulls from his throat, grip tightening at your waist and with two steps your back is braced up against the wall. Azriel’s movements are a little sloppy in his eagerness, fingers catching on crossed fabric but it doesn’t seize his exploration of you. Warm palms skim over the length of your stomach, slowing over the tantalizing swell of your breasts. “I think about these a lot.” Azriel confesses shamelessly, voice rough with want; the fan of his breath against such sensitive skin forcing a shiver down your spine. “Seems almost unnatural for such a little thing like you to have these less than little assets. You make it hard for me to get things done around here.”

Your brains a little foggy, clouded with pure lust and distracted by the concentration it takes to maintain the steady rock of your hips against the clothed cock between your thighs. “I’d say sorry but—Azriel.”

Dark promise is etched into every stunning feature when he slowly works a thumb over the length of your bottom lip. It must be instinctual, the way his tongue traces over his own in sync. “This mouth of yours has nearly gotten you in this same position dozens of times.” Need pools in your underthings, seeping through flimsy material and dragging deliciously against your clit with each desperate rut. You barely notice when the golden warmth of the library fades into the cool darkness of Azriel’s room.

It only adds to the lusty delirium, his scent engulfing you like a wave and finally his lips press against yours. Twin moans fill the silence, curious shadows following their masters command in easing your hair from your shoulders and sliding the straps of your dress free.

Every touch feels like puzzle pieces slotting into place.

His tongue in your mouth, your hands tangled in his hair while his shadows blocked out the rest of the world until nothing was left but Azriel and you. “Nearly dozens?” You breathlessly repeat, neck craning to offer more space for the myriad of marks he intended to place there. “What took you so long?”

Insecurity. Cowardice. A million different reasons had stopped Azriel from ever daring opening this door but now that the knob has been turned and the threshold breached—he was happily trapped; proud to be held prisoner as long as you desired. “Who cares? I’ve got you now.”

Melting into him is as easy as breathing, kisses desperate and hands heated when tugging off any offending clothing without breaking the connection.

Years of exposure to Azriel in the training ring prepares you plenty to see his bare abdomen and the densely packed muscles that’s housed there. The rest, however, has your mouth watering, teeth biting into your bottom lip when the heavy weight of his cock settles teasingly between your legs. “Is that what you want? To have me?” He doesn’t bother with words, only nodding once as his mouth is entirely too occupied learning the shape of your breasts and the noises that sound when his teeth graze at hardened peaks. “Then, please stop teasing before I handle this myself.”

Probably the wrong choice of words, even if they are harmless and fueled by errant desire.

“Handle it yourself?” A surprised noise escapes you when the position is swiftly shifted, Azriel’s back now propped against the headboard and his arms don’t even shake when bearing the brunt of your weight. “I’d love to see you try.” The smug expression he bears is slightly worrisome and yet you don’t resist when the weeping tip of his cock is rubbed against your folds, slipping between and easing inside.

“Fuckkk,” The word drags off your tongue, lids shut and lashes fluttering from the pleasure of it all—you felt so full. So unbelievably full that all you can do is whimper your praise and hope that your body was able to handle what you were going to put it through.

Azriel knew he’d gotten carried away.

You just sounded so pretty. Looked well on your way to being so perfectly ruined with your hair splayed messily down your shoulders as you struggled to take the full length of him, even with arousal dripping onto the satin sheets. “You’re squeezing me too tight,” Azriel croons soothingly, attempting to ease the tremble of your calves with the slow drag of his palms. “Gotta breathe, baby.”

It’s easier said than done and after a few seconds of trying to force your lungs to do their fucking jobs, you ditch the efforts altogether and delegate to more pressing matters.

Azriel doesn’t anticipate your determination but he falls harder when your brows furrow with the effort, a deep groan rumbling right through him when your hips go flush with his own.

You barely give yourself time to adjust, too eager after finally being granted all you’d desired. It’s almost as if there’s all the time in the world and still not enough time at all when Azriel’s sat so sturdy beneath you, his eyes raking up every inch of your body and committing it to memory. “There you go,” He praises with hands on your hips to guide the lewd movements. “Just like that, perfect girl.”

You all but preen under the worship, hypnotized by the devilish rasp he adopts and everything combined ignites a dangerous desire to please.

To give and give and give until there was nothing left but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care when the process felt so godsdamned good. “Az, I’m so close.” The coil in your gut grows unbearable, the steady rhythm you’d maintained begins to falter but Azriel’s quick to pick up where you’ve left off, hips bucking up into you over and over and over until one orgasm blends into the other. Every muscle goes pliant, curling around him like a lifeline as he takes his fill.

You can barely remember your name when his release follows, his chest glistening and hair in complete disarray when plopping down to the mattress, easing you beside him.

There’s a moment of awkward silence where you suddenly aren’t sure where to put your hands. Is this the part where you were supposed to leave?

When you can finally move your legs again, you make a move to slip from the warmth of the covers, bare toes skimming the harsh bite of hardwood floors when Azriel stops you with one hand is gently curled around your arm. The deep navy sheets are lazily covering his lower half and it’s near impossible to drag your eyes away from the sharp cut of his physique now that you know what it felt like up close. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“It’s the middle of the day, I still have so much to do—I should get going.”

“Blow it off,” It’s almost embarrassing how easily you melt into the request, sinking into the way he tugs you back into him, shadows tucking you securely under the covers. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

[keravnous]

diet mountain dew; john wick/fem!reader (smut, 18+)

dating john wick - the playlist

The Boogeyman is out to get you. Little does he know, that you too are willing to do quite a bunch of things just to stay alive.

warnings: blood, guns, knives, injuries, physical violence/fighting, assassination attempt; dub-con, rough sex, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (female receiving), choking, dirty talk, spanking, a lot of manhandling bc for the love of god he doesn't know how to be soft anymore, gun kink, knife kink, size kink, strength kink, squirting, body worship if you blink, is this hate-fucking? idk; john has a horse cock change my mind; john is in his 50s, the reader is in her 20s; set somewhere after the series i guess? (I refuse to accept he's dead); problematic family relationship as a plot device; let's all collectively ignore the fact that he would actually never touch another woman or even dare to catch the smallest of feelings again; john gets off on the violence

word count: 10,6 k

thank you mel for a) listening to my ramblings and b) reading a good chunk of the first third of this dumpster fire and still going nuts about it, kissies and thank you v for listening to my keanu ramblings without losing faith in me

You wonder, if praying will help you. Probably not.

The sound of carnage, screams and gunshots in the hallway abruptly stops. You hear the assailant's heavy footsteps echoing off the floorboards outside of your hotel room mere seconds before the door bursts open, flies out of its hinges and rattles to the ground, wood creaking and breaking, splinters flying everywhere.

There had been a hit out on you for two days and every single soldier in your father's militia was ready to defend your life with their own.

Literally. You can tell by the man entering your suite.

You can tell by just how much he is covered in blood. You can tell by the way it drips down his forehead and how it soaks his white shirt - even the soles of his shoes creak with it. You can tell by the way he is totally and utterly drenched in red red red, and because you are certain it is not his.

They literally gave their life for you. The thought hits you like a blow to the head. People have died because of you. Fathers, brothers, sons. You recall your last conversation with your own father. They want us dead, they put out a contract on us - you had never seen him so nervous, so disheveled. What does that mean - his anxiety had been washing over you in seeping hot waves, sending cold shivers down your spine. It means, I need you out of the house - now.

Nausea bubbles in your stomach as the man now approaches you, casually strolls into the suite with his finger on the trigger of the gun dangling from his hand and you stare back at him - a deer in the headlights, frozen by fear in the eyes of its deadly predator. One of your father's men jumps from his cover, fires a shot and gets hit back with one straight between his eyes. It happens so quickly, that you can't turn your head away. You see the bullet piercing his forehead, blood splattering as soon as it exits the skull on the other side. His head flies back a little, and then his body goes limp, slack, as he falls to the ground with a heavy thud.

You want to scream. You want to vomit. You want to run. But there is nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide from him.

There's only one soldier left with you in the suite now and he is hiding around the corner, near the bathroom. The stranger - the assassin, the killer - does not lower the gun again, and does not let his eyes stray from you as he carefully enters the room. You feel terribly exposed, dressed only in your negligée, not daring to move.

Now, that the dim light of the suite's living room strikes his face, you can finally see him, see the man who has come to end you. He is older than you, maybe nearly twice your age, with dark hair and even darker eyes, matching his black suit. Lean and athletic, chest heaving slightly with physical exhaustion. The Boogeyman.

You do not know who or what you had expected, what cruel and dreadful images your brain had conjured up in the past 48 hours - 48 frightful hours of being moved around from hideout to hideout by your father's men, not staying in one place longer than necessary - but it certainly was not that. Not him. He is a lot more handsome than his reputation has led on. Seeing him on the subway around rush hour you would have never suspected him to be in this business. He looks nice. And that is exactly what makes him dangerous.

You have heard his name before. Echoing from the walls. Baba Yaga. Whispered with both: fear and respect. The Boogeyman. Blurted out: like a curse or like a blessing. Mister Wick: like redemption, like damnation. Jonathan, the king's son walking the earth as the devil.

John. The sound of his name is oddly human - disturbingly human - for someone looking as calm and collected, focused and concentrated as he does right now, while being drenched in blood and pointing a gun at you.

You must have said his name out loud, because his eyebrows twitch irritatedly, a movement so quick you barely missed it - must've sound desperate too, then.

Vision zeroing in on the barrel of his gun, your hands clutch the sofa's edge. There is so much adrenaline pumping through your veins right now that it freezes your limbs, has your ears ringing. The only thing responding to your brain fully are your eyes, and they snap away from the gun and over to the remaining soldier. It's a quick look, not even a second, but the hitman seems to recognize it and - with near inhumane speed - flicks his gun, and fires two shots. Blood splatters against the white door as the shots pin the soldier's body against it, and is it finally drops to the ground heavily it leaves a nasty trail, all wet and sticky and red.

Could be you.

You want to scream, but your body does not belong to you anymore, does not respond to your commands. It is a desperate, cruel sound that leaves your throat instead as you flinch with the sound of the gun being fired.

"Let's make this quick" his voice is gravelly and rough, like he has seen a thousand grim things and the pain of it has etched its way into his throat, left a nasty mark on every tone that ever dared to cross after.

That is when your fight or flight suddenly kicks in. Well, more specifically, it kicks in while he is speaking, as he starts to swap the empty clip of his gun.

He underestimates you. Everyone does. Your father, your brother. The countless men lying dead littered across the hotel's 25th floor. It will be his mistake.

You latch forward, grabbing the vase from the coffee table in front of you. The weight of it in your hand drags you down.

With all the strength you can muster, which is quite a lot considering the massive amounts of adrenaline that are currently amping up your body - you throw it at him. It connects with his forehead sharply; a deep, irritated noise bursting from his throat as it crashes, splinters and falls to the floor.

You are braver, braver than you should be as your assault does not end there, your body pushing you forward, leaping over the table and crashing into his broad shoulders.

I will not die today

Body ramming into his, he stumbles, as your fist connects with his chin. You have only been partially trained in hand-to-hand combat, after pleading your brother for months until he eventually gave in. Sadly, he wasn't nearly as thorough and honest with it as he was training his drug dealer and gun runners. But now, it is the only thing you can rely on.

There is nothing else; no one else left alive in that building who might be able to help you. It is up to you. So, you might as well try.

And Oh, does desperation fire up your blood.

I will not die today

The diversion does not last long and he - John John John only human only human only human - grabs you by you waist hard, fingers digging into your flesh and into the expensive silk, before he slams your body into the ground. All air leaves your lungs with a dull sound erupting from your chest, just as pain blooms around your ribs.

You cough and he looks down at you, confusion making his brows twitch, before cold-hearted determination takes over once more. John aims his gun at you once more, pulls back the hammer and you do not even think about it, your leg rising as you kick against his hand. The shot misses, buries itself deep into the expensive carpet a few inches next to your skull. You have no time to do either: panic or sigh in relief; instead, you deliver him a kick to his stomach, fighting yourself back onto your feet, punching him straight in the face.

John grunts and grabs your wrist, but you see it coming and throw yourself into his wide frame, wrapping your other arm around his back and thus hooking it underneath his right shoulder, dislocating his arm and preventing him from aiming his gun at you. You claw onto him as he twists your arm close to his stomach, while you wrap your legs around him, making it harder for John to shake you off.

I will not die today

You kick and dig the heel of your foot into his thighs and the back of his knees and he grunts and buckles a little, but turns wild and relentless quicker than you can blink, throws the two of you into the next wall. You gasp sharply as your back connects with the large mirror, splinters digging into your back - not deep enough to actually cut skin, but it stings nonetheless, the impact making you dizzy.

Sharp pain shoots through your back and your neck, but you are not willing to give up yet, as raw energy and rage and desperation surges through your body - one of your legs coming loose and your knee hitting his stomach repeatedly, making John grunt in pain and you use your momentum to dig your hand deep into his back, holding onto him and then swirling out of the deadlock he has got you in, jumping his back like a monkey.

His gun clatters to the ground and for a split second, the room falls silent. Then, roaring like an animal gone wild, he grabs your calves and slams his back into the nearest wall, has you screaming with the impact. You can feel blood pouring from your nose, feel it trickling down your lips.

I will not die today

John is stronger than you are, so so much stronger - the apex predator: all muscle, unbreakable focus and the sheer will to kill. But you are not only a little quicker; you also really want to stay alive. It is a force he rarely encounters. And quite frankly, it irritates him.

He may be older than you, taller than you and stronger than you but you have something he does not have: you actually still got something to lose.

And you fight like it, too. All scratches and sharp yells, as you punch and scrabble at his shoulders and tear at his tie, trying to strangle him with it. John is struggling against it, gasping for air and winding beneath your assault and then his grip around your claves grows hard like iron, seconds before he pulls - throws you over his head like you weigh nothing. You land on the expensive carpet with a heavy thud - groaning as you crash onto your side with sharp pain shooting through your shoulder, down your ribcage.

I will not die today

John sputters and stumbles forward, looking for his gun but you are quicker, kicking it away with your foot. It clatters back onto and slides over the wooden floorboards.

For a second you consider your choices, fighting yourself back onto your feet but John - a practiced and seasoned fighter - beats you to it and lands a blow to your upper back, sends you back down with him - a mess of sputtering saliva and painful groans. His body topples onto yours and he quickly rolls the two of you over the floor.

John is heavy and warm on top of you, as he keeps you in a tight headlock, your chest pressed to the floor and neck bend in a painful angle. He presses his strong forearm down onto your windpipe and you choke and cough, feet kicking, hands dragging across the wood, clawing at it feebly.

You can feel his breath on your cheek, hot and damp. You can feel his torso pressing against your back as he kneels behind you.

I will not die today

Mustering all your remaining strength, you trash against him, ramming your backside into his stomach. He grunts and for a split second, his grip loosens. It is all you need. Throwing your elbow back, you hit him in the chest and he caves in.

You cough, crawling forward and then scrambling back onto your feet, one of your negligée’s straps falling down your shoulder in the process. You hastily pull it back up, seconds before John launches a cascade of punches onto you.

A few of them hit you as you try to block them; dull pain igniting in your body, blooming in your face and arms. Your breath goes heavy as you stumble backwards. You cannot do this. There is no way. You just physically can't.

He is stronger. Taller. Heavier. Deadlier. Your body and every single muscle, bone, nerve in it aches and you wheeze but he is already onto you again, half-tackles you and grabs your waist, ready to smash you back onto the ground.

You cling onto him with all your remaining strength, struggling against his huge frame, wrapping your hands around his neck in an attempt to get him to stumble.

His hair tingles on your naked arms. Oh wait --

Tearing at his hair - which has him grunting in both, pain, and irritation at the unusual attempt - you clumsily pull yourself up onto his shoulders, cutting his face right above his eyebrow with your nails in the process until you finally wrap one leg around his throat and close it around there tightly, choking him. John tries to pull you off him and succeeds after quite the tussle, only to find your frame clinging to him, legs and arms wrapping around his body, hands scratching and feet kicking.

I will not fucking die today

In an attempt to either get rid of each other or submit the last blow, to finally kill the other, you two swirl through the room - a deadly dance of torn skin, smashed glass panes and mirrors, bruises and cuts. Somewhere in between kicks and punches, he managed to pick up his gun - and right now, you are mustering all of your exhausted strength to prevent the barrel from pressing against your skull.

Eventually, John crashes your bodies through a large wooden door, and is not quick enough - unable to stop his own oxe-like strength - to stop himself from stumbling into the room. The two of you only come a halt as his knees hit something soft and ironically that is what finally topples both of you over, landing onto the mattress of your bedroom with a soft thud and deep, exhausted grunts.

Your ears ring, and you are ready to lash out at him again despite the physical exhaustion, to strike him square across the face, as --

There is something hard pressing against your crotch.

The world falls silent.

No. No, there's no fucking way. It's got to bea hidden weapon. Must be.

But clearly, it is not. There, between your spread legs, his hard cock presses snugly against your panty-clad pussy.

And he just feels so huge - mouth-watering huge - that your body responds in its own way, hips snapping up, stuttering against the hard bulge. John lets go off a shaky, ragged breath, hand still clutching his gun. And you know, that this is your window.

Feeling the warmth that his body and his hard dick are radiating through his expensive suit, you roll your hips once - a languid, slow motion, rubbing your pussy over his bulge.

And he groans. A deep, primal sound that sounds a little coarse. John is looking at you, starring you down, but there is a shadow dancing over his eyes, turning his brown eyes into deep and dark, black pits that gives him away.

He is horny. The Boogeyman is fucking horny. You would laugh, if the realization wasn't knocking all air straight from your lungs. Because it just another reminder, proof of what he actually is: human.

And what a sight he is to see - eyes turning darker every second, his chest heaving with every breath and making it seem like his shirt is going to pop a button or two any second now, his cock prodding against its restraints and your clothed cunt.

It makes you want him. The thought leaves you dizzy, makes you gasp.

Apparently, that is all he needs to roll his hips back into yours. And that - that is just unfair. It's playing dirty. It's, it's -- His dick feels huge as it trails along your folds, has the muscles in your abdomen clenching.

"Fuck", you breathe, a little overwhelmed with and helpless at the sudden surge of lust that ignites your body, the wetness pooling between your legs.

John is not saying anything, just stares you down while he continues to slooowly roll his hips into yours, grinds his cock against your cunt. Your pelvis twitches upward as you start to meet his movements, and then you can hear it. He let's go of a deep breath, and it sounds like the faintest moan.

You need to hear more of that. You need more of him, your cunt aching and hole clenching around nothing already.

"John", and this time you say his name - consciously - it sounds a different way of desperate: your voice reduced to a small whisper, torn at the edges by a wanton whimper ripping from your throat.

If it throws him off-guard he does not show it, does not let you see it. Instead, he grabs your chin hard, gaze locking with yours. Dark pupils blown wide, swallowing the honey-brown of his eyes, and your breath hitches.

"Yeah?", he rasps, and it does not take more than one long look from you for him to lean in, to press his lips onto yours.

The kiss tastes of blood and adrenaline and doom, and you relish in it. Relishing the way his lips move against yours and his beard tickles a little, relishing how his tongue presses into your mouth. It feels like he is eating you whole, licking into your mouth, one hand dancing over your waist - featherlight, like he doesn't know how to touch a body without hurting someone, destroying someone.

I will not die today, motherfucker

Your whole body now sings with it, the security of an impending victory, as you roll your hips into his once more, your tongue now licking back into his mouth. For a second you think about how to strike again, now that he is seemingly distracted, but all will to fight leaves your body as one of his hands brushes over your knee, wanders further and eventually rests on your thigh.

The touch is electrifying and then his hand grows braver, his movements more certain, as he grabs your thigh, feels you up. It happens so suddenly, that you gasp into the kiss.

John parts from you, his lips a little plush already. "Oh God", you whisper as you stare Death Turned Human straight in the face, not a single thought remaining in your skull despite your lust.

He doesn't speak, as he gently let’s go off your leg and straightens back up and for a second you think he is going to hurt you, with the way his brows are furrowed - but he doesn't.

Instead, he moves in, right over your comparably tiny frame - a mountain of a man. John kneels above you, his weight pinning you down while he straddles your thighs and Jesus fucking Christ - what a sight he is to see.

Dark locks falling into his forehead, a little sticky with sweat and the bits of blood from the cut your nails gave him moments ago - right above his left eyebrow, still lazily trickling down into his lashes. His chest heaves with ragged breaths, as he hastily gets rid of his jacket, carelessly drops it to the ground. His black button-down clings to his muscular body underneath his waistcoat and his equally as muscular thighs pin you down to the bed, black fabric nearly tearing at the seams. And then there is his hard cock.

It looks as huge as it felt, with the way it bulges his pants, the outline of it clearly visible as it buckles proudly against its restraints. You are certain, you will not be able to close your hand around it fully - not a chance.

One of his hands - the one lacking a finger, which you only now notice and what sends shivers down your spine - wanders over your body, pulling your negligée down in the process, right tit spilling out of the soft silk. He immediately grabs it, cups it with his large hand and squeezes. You mewl, marveling at just how big his hand is, just as his whole body is in comparison to you. His fucked-up finger digs into the flesh, sending shivers down your spine.

John's hand gropes your tit, before he impatiently pulls the neckline down roughly. You sigh, arousal shooting down your spine and tingling in your lower belly, as two of his fingers nudge your nipple, pinch it.

He watches your face intently, as he continues to grope you, rolls your nipple between his fingers. You mewl, breath accelerating a little but it is just not enough and you buck your hips upwards. John grunts in, what you assume is an approving manner, and let's go off your tit, reaches to his belt at his loins.

Quickly pulling a knife from God-knows-where exactly, a sharp blade enters your vision.

You blink, panic seeping through your lust and your legs twitch a little with fear. If John notices it, he neither shows it nor does he say anything, just moves the knife closer to your body.

The blade shines in the dim light as it dances over your exposed thighs carefully, the metal cooly pressing against your skin, before he flicks it and cuts your negligée open. The thin, soft fabric cleanly cut in half it now lazily slides from your aching body, falls to its sides. Your chest heaves, shivers running down your arms and back.

It happens so quickly that you can only blink. As your brain finally catches up with your eyes, you come to realize that he is holding a real fucking tactical knife. You have thrown one once - they are sharp as hell and deadlier than a bullet. The sound of fabric tearing easily, like paper, proves your point.

And John's movements with the blade are so fast that your breath hitches, a little afraid he might cut you. But he does not, instead, he quickly pulls the torn silk off you and away from under you, carelessly tosses it into the dark of the room.

The edge of the blade dances over your skin and you do not dare to breathe, as he trails it up and down your curves, gently nudges your nipples. "I could kill you", he says calmly and then, in lightning speed, presses the blade into the crook of your neck. Your head sinks back into the mattress, in an instinct to flee the sharp edge.

All it does is to expose your neck further and something gleams in John's eyes, as he presses the sharp tip down slowly, carefully nudging your skin with it. The metal is cold and hard and sharp and your breath hitches. Just a little bit more and it might burst your skin, draw blood.

But, to your own confusion, you do not feel threatened anymore. Oddly enough, your nerves tingle with excitement. You blame it on the already high levels of adrenaline that still pump through your veins, rushing back and forth from your brain and your lungs, but a small voice inside of your head whisper gently, deviously, that you know That's not it. And he knows it, too.

It's in his eyes as well, the sheer excitement of it all, the fucked-up pleasure it evokes in the both of you lays heavy in the air.

It turns you fucking on. It turns you on, that the man who - minutes ago - tried you kill you and did hurt you very fucking badly in the process of it, now decides to let you live.

It turns you on, that you are at his mercy.

It turns you on, that he decided to spare you - just for now.

It turns you on, that these large and strong hands holding the knife have that sort of power over you. And thus, as the blade nudges your head back further, you moan.

"I could cut your throat", John's voice is heavy and thick with arousal and you can feel your heartbeat picking up, breath accelerating. His gaze drops down, watches the rapid rising and falling of your breasts hungrily, while another soft moan escapes from your lips.

"Don't", you breathe softly.

The knife practically burns on your skin, and you can feel arousal flooding your clothed pussy, rubbing your thighs together for any sort of friction. John can feel your squirming underneath him, but he can also see your eyes turning watery and dark with lust, pupils blown and a pretty pink spreading on your cheeks, your breath growing shallow. And he just really needs to fucking taste you right now.

As quickly as it appeared, the blade vanishes from your throat before he twirls the knife like the ruthless, reckless professional that he is, and buries it deep to the hilt in the mattress next to you. The sharp sound as it pierces the thick fabric has the hairs on your body standing up, goosebumps rolling over your skin.

"I'll do it later", he rumbles - casually, like he is talking about doing chores or picking up groceries - before hunching over you, grabbing your chin with his fucked-up hand, and kissing you again. His tongue immediately pushes into your mouth, like he is starving to taste you.

John eats you whole, with the way his lips move against yours. His hand cups your face, tongue licking into your mouth, toying with yours. His kiss steals your breath and you start to get dizzy with it, hips bucking. You can feel his lips curling up and then he parts from you, leaving you a gasping mess, spit pooling at the corners of your mouth.

"Let me touch you, John", you whisper, voice a little small because you do not know why you feel that way, and if he will even allow it. But you just need to feel him.

For a long moment his gaze dances over your face and something shifts behind his eyes, like a shadow gets lifted and then very quickly returns. Ultimately, he gives a court nod, so small you nearly miss it and gives you a little more room while straightening back up.

Carefully, as if not to spook him, you dart one hand out, place it on his chest. The muscle is firm underneath his suit and you run your hand along the lapel of his jacket, down and then back up, before it slips beneath it.

John's body radiates warmth under the black fabric of his shirt and your other hand comes up, before you shove the jacket off his shoulders and onto the floor next to the bed.

Your breath hitches.

He is wearing a holster, a reminder of his deadliness, of the gun laying somewhere next to you. Maybe, he sees the fear returning in your eyes, but he is quick to shrug the holster off, throws it into the dark where it clatters onto the wooden floor boards. What is left in front of you are broad shoulders and a muscular chest, the fabric nearly tearing at his movements.

As you run your hands over it, you cannot help yourself - you need to fucking feel him for real.

Quickly making work of his waistcoat and tie you toss both to the side carelessly, before your hands roam his broad chest. His button-down clings snugly against his upper body and you can feel the muscles work beneath the black fabric as your hands brush over them. You tug at the shirt, pulling its tails from his pants before hastily opening the first few buttons. The skin underneath is pale, littered by blue - red - black bruises, birthmarks scattered in between like stars. You pop open the rest of the buttons, greedy to touch him. And as the shirt falls to the sides your hands are already onto his chest, roaming over and admiring the muscular, defined canvas of strength, that violence has painted a pretty picture on.

John is watching you intently as you undress him and then explore his body, your pupils blown wide and dark, mouth agape a little. He is a little taken aback by it - by someone not seeing his body as the ultimate tool of death that it is, but as something else, that he cannot really pinpoint because he can't even look in the mirror without seeing destruction and decay. But the way your gaze wanders over his body, the way you touch him, is different from that and he has not felt anything like it in years.

And John wants. Carnal desire tugs at his brain, shoots arousal between his legs, makes his cock twitch and a low growl escaping his throat.

The sound gets you going: pushing yourself up with one hand, the other wrapping around his strong neck for leverage as you sit up, mouth immediately clutching to his throat. He tastes of sweat and after-shave - sharp and musky - and you run your tongue over his skin greedily, licking and sucking at the skin while your naked body presses against his.

It disarms him. The gentle touch that you put his body up to, while everything still aches from plowing through the better half of your father's militia and beating the hell out of you, confuses him. Your touch, your lips on his skin are soft and not aiming to hurt - instead, they grow more and more needy, wanton and hasty, as you lick over his bruised skin, tasting his sweat. Your hands over his abdomen caress his defined muscles, in awe of his utter strength, thumbs brushing through the soft and dark trail of hair leading beneath the waistband of his trousers. And all John can do, is watch, his gaze locking with yours as goosebumps erupt on his skin.

And you - oh you; your head swims with the way you turn this animal into a human again, unlock a different set of animalistic needs within him and hearing John's breath growing heavy really fucking does it for you, feeling his scarred and beaten-up skin underneath your hands, wrapping them around the deadly machine that is his body. It makes you want more.

Shedding his blood-stained shirt off of his shoulders, your hands roam over his upper back - feeling the scars there: of knives, larger and small ones and round ones of bullets that once pierced his skin. There is something else, a burn scar, in the shape of a cross and he hisses as your fingers brush over it, nails digging into the stunted skin.

It pulls John out of his stasis, reminds him of who he is and you can feel the air swinging with it seconds before he moves. His large hands wrap around your shoulders and then he pulls you off him, throws you back onto the mattress. You yelp, eyes growing wide as you watch his face as it turns from lightly dazed back to stern, wild, with his brows furrowed.

"That's enough", he says, voice coarse and it still feels like a small victory, even though he spreads your legs roughly, hands digging deep into your thighs - hard enough to bruise - before he kneels between them. He yanks your body forward at the back of your knees, watches your tits bounce and then leans in, his lips immediately attacking your throat, your neck.

His lips are surprisingly soft against your skin, his beard tickling a little as it brushes over your tits, your stomach, your thighs while his tongue licks fat stripes over your nipples and down down down your upper body, right to your navel. One of his hands creeps up your body once more and roughly cups your tit, squeezes, and gropes it, rolls your hardened nipple between his index and middle finger. His stunted ring-finger digs deep into your tit and you gasp, hips bucking. John's lips suck and nibble at your skin, before eventually ghosting over your pubic bone, teasing you before assaulting your thighs again, teeth biting down gently into the soft flesh. You gasp and moan while he gropes your body, inhales your scent - as you watch how his lips, tongue, and teeth dance over your thighs, moving closer to your cunt.

John finally, finally, puts his mouth onto your pussy, peppers open-mouthed kisses around your clit, before clothing his lips around it and sucking on it hard through your panties. Your hips buck as a high-pitched moan erupts from your throat, hands flying into his greying locks.

"Fuck", you whine, feeling fresh wetness flooding your folds, dampening the thin fabric further. John can see the outlines of your wet pussy pressing against your panties and parts from your clit momentarily, only to lick a fat stripe over your clothed cunt, watching it twitch.

"That's fucking pretty", he rasps, gaze locking with yours and you feel all air leaving your lungs. His eyes are so fucking dark, like gleaming black pits swallowing you whole, his breath a little flat with arousal.

You want him to fuck you. Really fuck you. To plow you open, rail you until you cannot sit nor walk. He is already so so close to you, but too far away at the same time. "Please", is all you manage to utter out. And it seems to be sufficient enough for him; seems to get across what you want, what you need.

John's fingers wrap around the front of your lace slip, tugging at the fabric - that rubs along your cunt at the sudden motion and has you gasping quietly - and then he pulls. The lace tears easily as he rips it apart, and cool air hits your wet and hot pussy, as he practically peels you out of your underwear, throws it to the side. The look on his face is wild and you can hear him taking a deep breath, smelling your arousal, before he spreads your folds apart with his thumbs, gaze wandering over your plump and flushed cunt.

Teasingly brushing over your clit with his thumb, John watches your reaction intently. And fuck, you do not disappoint. Throwing your head back, you moan, drawing in a deep breath through your opened mouth that heaves your chest, your eyelids fluttering.

You are dying for him to touch you and as he does, it feels like your body catches fire - lust washing away the dull pain in your limbs and near your ribs.

"Oh God", you breathe out as his thumb draws another wide and slow circle over your clit, your hands darting out and grabbing the sheets "Please."

And John complies, his thumb rubbing over your clit in a slow but steady rhythm.

Gasping, your hands clutch the sheets, knees darting away from each other, giving him more space. John accepts the invitation, grabs one thigh hard, fucked up ring-finger digging deep into your skin. His fingers move further, abandons your clit and dance over your folds, down to your hole. It flutters as two of his digits tease it, gently circling around it.

"Please", you whine once more, lifting your hips a little, a desperate noise leaving your throat. John smirks to himself, before pushing two of his fingers into you.

The stretch is sudden and bigger than expected and you moan coarsely, as he pushes his digits along your walls deeply and nestles them into your seeping hot cunt up to his knuckles. And Jesus, you feel so full already; your head swimming as you consider how big his cock must feel, then.

Your breath goes quick and shallowly as he starts to move them, and then he leans in. Nudges your clit with the tip of his tongue, licks over it.

You feel like combusting on the spot: your nerves tingling with arousal, your whole body still aching from the beating you gave each other earlier - the pain in your back blooming as you stretch it with your hips desperately shoving themselves near his touch - your pussy squeezing his fingers.

John pumps his thick fingers in and out of you, his tongue rubbing and circling your clit and soft, needy moans fall from your lips. Obscene, wet sounds fill the air, mingle with your moans and heavy breathing. His lips close in around your clit, sucking at it while his fingers rub along your spongy walls and your cunt squeezes them hard as fresh wetness floods your folds, your squirt wetting his beard and dripping down on the sheets below.

You can hear - feel - John humming against your pussy, peppering the wet skin with open mouthed kisses, licking over it, and tasting your slick.

You feel so fucking good - lust pulsating through your veins, loins on fire - and your head falls to the side, body rocking with sharp gasps and your mouth agape, eyelids fluttering as --

There's the gun. And the knife.

You could easily grab either one or the other next to you, pull the blade out of the matress or the hammer back; put a bullet right between his eyes or plow the blade deep deep into his skull. Killing the Boogeyman. Killing Baba Yaga.

That would do wonders to your family's business. It would emancipate you from it, you would be free. Free to rule.

"Thinking 'bout killing me?", John rumbles, tongue licking a fat stripe over your cunt, nudging your clit. Your gaze flickers back to him: hair a mess, eyes gleaming darkly, hands on your thighs to keep your legs spread. He does not look surprised. Neither does he look worried.

Realization hits you like a blow to the head: he is toying with you. Has been the whole fucking time. The wolf hunting the deer, running a few rounds through the woods to weaken it; its breath whistling with exhaustion, long legs buckling before it collapses - an easy kill. An easy kill for an old wolf, one, that can't quite handle a real hunt anymore.

But maybe, just maybe - judging from the look in his eyes - he got lost in his own game. Its reins slipped from his bloody hands, the wolf tumbling to the ground.

Looking back at him, your lips curl into a sweet smile. "Not anymore", your hand darts out, brushing the loose strands of dark hair from his face - the soft gesture leaving him visibly confused -, "John."

Two can play this game. And maybe, just maybe, the deer can tire the wolf out first.

Something gleams in John's eyes, dances over them like a shadow and he seems to accept the challenge - readying to tire you out - tongue licking over your clit once more, making you shiver and mewl, as he pulls his fingers out of your dripping hole. You feel empty and --

"Do you really think, you could kill me?", he rumbles, voice deep and rough around the edges, "Stupid slut."

And then, quicker than your brain can process it, his hand comes down on your dripping wet pussy.

Your breath hitches, topples over and leaves your throat as a raw, needy moan. Softly stinging pain blooms between your folds and sets your nerves on fire. Blame it on the bruises, blame it on the pain you both inflicted on each other moments ago, but: it riles you up. Mingles with your aching bones and aching cunt, has you arching your back.

"Y'really think you could kill me", he doesn't sound offended, not even amused - voice plain, like he is inquiring if you really believed the earth to be flat. Like you really are stupid.

And you start to feel stupid, too. There was never a chance. You never had a chance. Your death was sealed, determined the second John stepped into the hotel.

You were stupid to believe you could outrun or beat him. You are stupid. And John has every right to show you, teach you, punish you for it.

Giving your cunt another firm slap, John watches your hips twitch, hears your pussy squelching and soft moans falling from your lips. "Shit", you sigh and he slaps your wet pussy once more, feels your slick folds wetting the palm of his hand.

"D'you like that, girl?", and as your only response are wanton gasps falling from your mouth John chuckles deeply, gives your pulsating cunt another two firm slaps. Seeing how he is pulling you apart, how good he makes you feel really seems to do it for him, gets him quite talkative.

"Uh-huh", you make dumbly, quite illiterate, watching him stroking your flushed, hot cunt with two of his fingers. Shivers run down your spine.

And then he leans back in, licks a fat stripe over your sensitive, flushed cunt, from the hole up to the clit.

You squirm, mewl as his beard brushes over your overstimulated skin, leaving a slight burn that mingles deliciously with a fresh wave of arousal that floods your body scalp to toes.

The muscles in your abdomen clench as two of his fingers circle your fluttering hole and then push in, rubbing along your plush walls agonizingly slowly and you can feel yourself tightening around it. Your juices squelch from your cunt as you squirt against his tongue and your slick runs down your folds, wets his fingers and palm while his tongue laps at your pussy, tasting your sweetness.

John pushes is fingers deeper as you moan and sigh, hands fisting his hair and hips moving against his tongue, his digits thrusting into you.

"Oh god", you huff as his lips close in around your clit, sucking on it and the tip of his tongue flicking against it occasionally.

Another wave of fresh wetness floods your cunt as you squirt once more, wetting the sheets below, your slick running down John's wrist.

John parts from your clit, nudges it with his tongue, his beard glistening with your juices.

"Yeah, that's fucking it", another one of his thick fingers pumps itself into your tight little hole and his other hand - also slick with your juices - grabs your thigh, "That's a good girl."

You feel so full, your spine feels like it's on fire and your brain tingles with it, sends wave of pleasure down down down your body; muscles in your loins clenching, chest heaving. It becomes all too much as he leans back in, rubs his tongue over your clit, lips sucking and teasing your folds.

The slight burn of John's beard tickling your plush, hot cunt. His fingers working your open and stretching your tight little hole open far and wide, obscene squelching sounds filling the air as he works you open, brushing against your g-spot occasionally and making you see stars.

But it's too little. It's just not enough.

"Fuck", you whine as John's thick fingers brush over your g-spot with quite some force, tongue lapping at your seeping cunt, "Shit, please. Please, just fuck me, please!"

You can feel him grinning against your wet cunt, beard a little sticky with your juices, letting go of your pussy with an obscene pop. "Yeah", he licks his lips, tastes you on his tongue, "D'you want my cock?"

And that - that might be what makes you lose your mind. Because yes. Yes, you do.

You have been craving to touch it, to feel it since it had pressed against your clothed pussy earlier. Thus, all dignity leaves your body with one, clean whine that breaks free from your throat.

"Yes, fuck - oh god, John", you brabble, legs falling apart further, inviting him in, his digits sinking deeper into your soaking wet hole, "Shit, please fuck me, John - please, please, please --"

Pleas are still falling from your lips like a chant, as a surprising noise breaks the silence, so strangely beautiful that it has you nearly shuddering: John is laughing. It's a nice baritone sound, and the fine lines around his eyes crinkle with it - it's so beautiful, that it drowns the world out. You watch him in awe, as he shakes his head, avoids your gaze.

"Jesus. Look at you", he huffs, voice dripping thickly with amusement, "If you need it that badly--"

Straightening back up and kneeling between your legs, John slips his fingers from your cunt and makes quick work of his belt, trousers, and boxers. The second he frees is cock, you start to drool like a fucking pavlovian-dog.

His dick is so fucking huge. It is nicely curved and cut, the bulbous pink head glistening with pre-cum and a thick, pumping vein at the bottom that rakes from the base to the tip, as it rests between trimmed, dark pubic hair. His cock bobs against his abdomen as it bounces free, smears the pre-cum along the pale skin, twitches at the sudden contact. And Jesus fucking Christ, you just want to fucking touch it, feel its velvety skin in your palm. But you just know that you won't even be able to wrap your hand around its base fully, it's impossible, it--

"I-it won't fit", you whisper, a little taken aback by his sheer size.

"Oh, I'll make it fit, baby."

John takes his cock in one hand, thumb right beneath its head, and rubs it against your slit. And Jesus fucking Christ. Your hips snap up, meet his movements, and he grunts while he spreads his pre-cum along your cunt, gathers your slick. The thick head of his dick prods against your entrance and you take a deep breath, looking down between your legs. You watch how he slooowly pushes in and you gasp at the sudden intrusion, the delicious stretch making you moan.

His cock feels so fucking big, hot, and heavy, as he nestles the tip in, your hole clenching around it. John's brows furrow, and he doesn't wait long until he pushes his cock in further.

The thick base starts to stretch your slim rings of muscles, a sharp pain shooting through it. He can feel your hole protesting, can see you wincing. "Breathe, baby", he hums, "Let me do the rest."

His coarse voice mingles with his words and the waves of pleasure shooting through your body despite the dull pain, conjures up a pretty pretty image that floods your brain - there's sunlight everywhere, orange rays of it hitting a bed covered in white sheets, sweaty bodies on top of it; limbs entangled, hands intertwined with their golden rings shining brightly in the warm light, heavy breathing and sloppy kisses, and lazy thrusts as his cock fucks you awake. The thought makes you dizzy, your legs falling apart and hole fluttering open, inviting him in.

The slight burn leaves you a gasping, whimpering mess as he pushes himself in deep, nestles his huge cock in between your aching, hot, and tight walls.

And John feels like he is going to pass out. No blow to the head, no bullet to the chest, no knife to the stomach could ever make him feel as dizzy as the feeling of your hot cunt squeezing him does right now. His whole body is vibrating with want and lust and he just really hopes that you don't notice that he has gotten a little rusty. The thought quickly gets drowned-out as he looks down, where his thick cock practically splits you open, vanishes in your hole.

"Shit", he huffs out, places one large hand on your stomach and thrusts. Feeling himself moving inside of you has him moaning, gaze shooting up to you, meeting your eyes, as his hand presses down. "You feel me right here, baby?", he rasps and you nod, mouth agape by the sheer force of his thrust, tip of his cock prodding your cervix.

John can see his cock moving inside of you, the way your stomach bulges a little. He gets a little dizzy with, and then his eyes make the mistake of moving up to your face. And it takes a whole lot of fucking will-power of him to not just thrust and thrust and thrust and fuck you until you cry, bleed.

You are so fucking pretty. Mouth agape you watch how his cock vanishes between your legs, splits your cunt open, with his eyes heavy-lidded and cheeks flushed. Your lips are plush and red from his assault.

Your hands grip the sheets and your breasts heave with your deep breaths, that grow a little more flaccid. Next to you lays his gun, knife still buried into the mattress. His eyes drop to the weapons and his breath hitches. And for a split second, like a flash of light, he wonders what in God's name he's doing here. He is a professional. The Ballerina works like that. He doesn't.

A sweet, sweet noise rips him out of his thoughts. "J-john", you mewl, eyes still trained on his massive dick splitting you open, "I-it, it's --"

"Yeah?", he breathes, the sound all soft and careful around the edges.

"Heavy", you breathe.

"Does it hurt?", he kind of wants it to. Make you pay for what you did to him. He kind of doesn't want it to. Make you enjoy what he's got to give.

John realizes he is fucked.

You nod, head flying back into the cushions, while your brows dart together.

John's free hand flies to your clit, nudges it gently, before slowly rubbing wide circles over it. You gasp, as you feel fresh wetness flooding your cunt and dripping down your folds to where his cock splits your hole open, pools around it. He carefully pulls out a little and then pushes back in, assisted by your slick. The way you moan spurs him on and the circles on your clit grow faster and smaller.

Aching your back, you lean into the touch. "That's a good girl", he whispers, voice raw and coarse, dripping with lust and the exhaustion of holding back. John bottoms out, while continuing to rub your clit and he can feel your walls growing plush, your hole fluttering around his dick, relaxing with your hot, seeping cunt inviting him in. "Feels good?"

"Yeah, fuck", you feel like you are being split open, with his thick cock filling you to the brim and rubbing along your walls with every little movement, the thick head prodding gently against your cervix, "Shit, John."

It feels so fucking good, all thoughts being washed away from your brain as he starts to move carefully, thrusts into you once, twice. You moan, lips slightly parted, before your gaze flies to him.

And Fuck. John's chest is flushed a little, muscles of his abdomen flexing with every thrust while his gaze is trained down to where his cock fucks into you, brows darted together a little and his breathing audible.

"John?", you whisper, and his gaze immediately shoots up to you as your comparably tiny hand wraps around the wrist of his hand that is still rubbing your clit.

"Yeah?"

"Fuck me."

For a long moment, he just looks at you and you think - no, you are convinced - that you can see a glimpse of the human being he once was. Caring, sweet and gentle; as he seems to really take it into consideration if you are ready yet, if you know what you are begging for.

Apparently, he does deem you prepared enough, and the soft gaze gets replaced by a dark gleam as all gentleness vanishes from his face once more. Without a warning, John rolls his hips back only to thrust into you again, deep, and hard, immediately picking up a quick rhythm.

It comes as a genuine surprise to you and you gasp, mewling but it quickly feels just so fucking good, practically lights your body up and leaves every nerve-ending on fire, each thrust has you moaning loudly.

It spurs him on, makes him grunt and for a while, you both just watch him gliding in and out of your tight hole, with him feeling your muscles squeezing him and you feeling his cock stretching your open further and further. Your lips as slightly parted and his brows are furrowed as he rolls his hips into yours and you feel time getting lost on you, the only thing of importance remaining is the feeling of him filling you up. John's hands roam your body, wandering over your thighs and your stomach, your hips before angling your leg, pushing the heel of your foot on his shoulder, and grabbing your ankle with one hand, his dick slips into you even further, balls slapping against your ass heavily with each thrust.

You can tell that John has not fucked in a long, long time. It's not the way he does it - all fluid, languid thrust of his hips, muscles dancing under the soft skin. It's mostly the way he pants and grunts - sounds just as desperate as you feel. And still, he has the stamina of a racehorse.

You can feel that he wants to prove it, too, as his free hand grabs your thigh and hoists your other leg over his hip bone, practically pulling your lower half off the bed in the process. Your pelvis now clings to his, obscene sounds of his cock fucking into your wet pussy filling the air while he huffs with his thrusts, yet does not slow down.

The grip on both, your ankle and your thigh are hard, and you are certain his hands will leave a bruise but you just cannot bring yourself to care. Deep down you know, that someone will see them: your maids, your friends, your family.

But all thoughts, all worries get swapped from your brain as your gaze wanders up from where John's dick hammers into you steadily, rakes over his defined stomach and chest and finally, finally lands on his face.

He looks downright, utterly, and breathtakingly -- pornographic.

John's dark pupils blown wide gleaming with arousal, his cheeks are slightly blushed and a thin layer of sweat makes him glow in the dim light of the living room falling onto the bed. It surrounds him like a halo, a Saint of Death and Decay, with his dark hair falling into his forehead and onto his shoulders. He brushes it out of the way with his stunted hand, a ragged breath making his chest heave. There is still some of your slick wetting his beard.

You can't help your mind from going there, from wondering how different things could have been. What it would be like if you had met me in a bar instead of him entering your suite, leaving the hallway behind him looking like a slaughterhouse. Maybe he would have laughed at your jokes, in the dim light of your favorite bar in the city. Maybe he would have liked the same music as you do. Maybe, just maybe, he would have brought you home only to stay the night and fuck you until you would have lost your goddamn mind.

Your hand wanders down your body, strokes your waist and hip in the process, before it languidly drops between your spread legs, two fingers darting out and rubbing circles over your sensitive clit.

John moves quickly, his usual deadly precision shattering your peaceful fantasy, his hand ditching your thigh and closing in around your waist. "Don't you fuckin' touch yourself", he growls, and it's the first time you hear real, actual emotion dwelling in his throat - not his toneless, cold and mechanical rumble. He sounds pissed. Offended.

And the best part is: it seems to get him fucking going.

John leans in, your calf still resting on his shoulder and the slight pain of the stretch is delicious as he nearly folds your body in half. You can feel his dick sliding in even deeper into your hole and you gasp and whine, one hand coming up to dig into his biceps to just hold on. Hold on, while he pounds into you with perfectly angled, deep and strong thrusts, hitting your g-spot with every single one of them.

You know that the suite's door is in shambles, that anyone could walk in here and see you having your brains fucked out by the man who is here to kill you - but you don't care. Part of it is, because the gun is still resting next to your head on the sheets. You could just grab it and shoot anyone dead in heartbeat, whoever is trying to disturb the pleasure that shoots through your body.

But it is also him.

It's the way John is towering over you, back hunched, looking all wide and powerful and deadly, with the way he shields your body from view and harm as he thrusts into you. As he pushes all his rage, adrenaline, and strength into your tight hole, groans, and pants into your ear.

There is nothing you can do, despite holding onto him, nails digging into his back, clutching his broad shoulders, fingers running over his tattoos desperately. He is fucking the living daylight out of you, your body moving like a ragdoll underneath the mountain of muscles and strength. Your cunt is being split open by his cock, as you feel him hammering into you and you feel like you are going to lose your mind, panting and moaning with each of his thrusts.

"John, fuck", you moan sweetly, eyes rolling into your skull as he pounds into you, "You feel so fucking good, shit --"

"Yeah", he huffs, his forehead slowly sinking onto yours, "You too, baby."

You can see his eyelids fluttering, feel his upper body heaving beneath your hands, smell the blood on his skin, mingling with his musky scent. Blaming it on the sickening cocktail of hormones that is flooding both - your brain and your body - you lean in, your lips desperately smacking against his.

And Jesus Fucking Christ. Does John kiss you.

Kisses you like he is starving for it, licking back into your mouth - his body pressing yours into the mattress with his whole weight and muscle, while still thrusting into you.

Your hands tangle into his hair, tugging at it. John moans against your lips and your stomach flutters at the sound, and you want more. One hand moves to lay at the crook of his neck and your tongue presses against his, licking back into his mouth. Adding some force to his neck you invite John deeper into the kiss, and he follows suite, steals you the last bit of air your lungs were holding. Panting you part from him, thumb brushing over the crook of his neck.

Greedily breathing against his lips, you can't help yourself. You feel so alive and you want him to wreck you, to leave something behind that you will remember for every day your heart continues to beat. Greedily breathing against his lips, you can't help yourself but to whisper: "Harder."

John blinks, hips stuttering. And then, he grunts. His hand digs into your waist as he grabs you there, hold you in place will his hips rut into you. Picking up a near brutal rhythm, obscene sounds of your slick being pushed in and out and in out of your hole as he jackhammers into your g-spot, the bedframe rattling as John's thrusts pound it into the wall - leaving you a gasping and moaning mess. His belt clinks with his thrusts and you cling onto him, sharp whines escaping your throat.

"John John John", his name leaves your mouth like a mantra, sharp and high-pitched. His head falls forward, dark locks brushing over your cheek as his temple rests against yours and then you hear it.

John moans.

It's a deep, carnal sound. Your stomach flutters and lust shoots through your body at the noise, your tight cunt squeezing his thick cock as you squirt around his cock like a broken fucking hose, wetting his pubic hair. You can feel it rubbing along your wet folds, the sensation making you mewl, leaves your hips shuddering.

"Shit", you breathe, hands cradling his muscular back and then you can feel his dick twitching inside of you, accompanied by yet another one of his sweet, sweet moans, "Fuck, John--"

He raises his head and your gazes connect, before he leans in, presses his lips onto yours once more. The kiss is surprisingly soft and in stark contrast to the way he ruts and pounds into you and then he hits the spot once more and -

Everything goes white as your muscles clench and unclench suddenly, as you nearly scream against his lips; your hole practically milking his cock as you cum, pussy gushing and squirting around him like a broken hose.

John continues to fuck you through your orgasm and his heavy breathing reaches your ears through the cotton candy, that slowly wraps you in as everything turns light and bright. He moans deeply against your cheek as he comes, too - shoots hot ropes of cum into you and paints your walls with it.

His movements still as he buries himself deep into you, cock twitching with each thick rope of his cum and you can feel him fill you up, as his massive frame slowly sinks down onto you.

Your legs grow heavy and the stretch of your left leg is turning painful and you - a little clumsily - pull it away from his shoulder, stretch it out. Your limbs start to shake and you close your eyes, drawing in deep breaths through your nose.

The room is silent, the air heavy with the musky scent of sex.

Your chest still heaves with the remains of your orgasm, bliss still spreading in your brain and your veins, making you feel like you are flying. Your heart is still racing, as you feel him moving again.

Blinking up at him, you can see him grabbing the gun.

"Don't", you say softly, voice coarse from screaming your lungs out in pleasure just moments ago, "Please, don't." You are not ready to scream yet again. Not ready to scream in pain, instead of pleasure.

John does not reply. He pulls the hammer back, checks the chamber - all with one hand.

"Kill him instead, please."

He freezes, eyes locking with yours. "Who?", he sounds just as exhausted as you. The wolf, tired out. The deer, bleeding, limping.

Call it Post Nut Clarity, call it Finally Taking Your Future In Your Own Hands, call it Emancipating Yourself. Call it Having Wrapped A Deadly Assassin Around Your Pinky.

You were not safer here. You never were. Just more isolated. Easier to locate.

Easier to kill.

Realization hits you like a blow to the head, your vision swimming.

See? I will not die today.

"My father. Kill him."

[sexlapis]

[◉°] …TOJI & Y/N BEING A COUPLE FOR 10 MINUTES STRAIGHT PART 4 … 764k views

—̳͟͞͞♡

ᰋ actor!toji x actor/actress!reader

synopsis: your fans truths delusions about the nature of you & toji’s relationship continues.

a/n: actor!toji is still here guys! ૮ ˙Ⱉ˙ ა

sfw, fluff, crack, ooc toji, mentions of smoking

masterlists

actor!toji masterlist

part one, two, three

*

ᰋ first clip

“hi guys! welcome to ‘baking with y/n, episode two’!” you yell at the camera, grinning, “and today i will be cooking with…” waving your hands out to the side, you announce your guest, “toji fushiguro! come on toji!”

toji’s big stature strolls into view with his hands in his pockets. he makes the entire kitchen area shrink around him due to his domineering size and overall presence.

“alright, alright..” toji chimes, “not too much now.”

“toji. don’t big yourself up too much. this is still my show,” you smile at his dumb, flabbergasted face and turn your attention back to the viewers, “today, we’ll be making cinnamon rolls! mmhmm!”

meanwhile, toji is tying a too-small apron around his torso, tightening it around is cinched waist. his seemingly intimidating demeanour is nullified by the pink, frilly gingham fabric that graces his body.

“‘don’t happen to have any other aprons, do ya?”

“no, why-” you choked on your own spit when you look at the state of toji - wearing a tiny, delicate apron on his large frame.

“toji, wow…you look so nice…”

“you be quiet.”

ᰋ second clip

as a fashion show attendee, and a significant one at that, you were given some of the best seats in the venue. coincidentally, you are placed right next to your friend, toji fushiguro.

when a member of staff leads you to your seat, you seem surprised and happy to find toji there, smiling broadly. toji’s face cannot be seen in the video, but from the way he stood up to greet and hug you, it appears that he reciprocated your feelings!

you both settle in your seats and before long, the show begins. the models walk by. and more models. and even more models.

before you know it, your eyes grow heavy, your head occasionally dipping and shooting back up again. you seemed so tired…

toji looks at you and rubs your knee, speaking a few words to you. in response, you yawn and nod gently. toji leans in a little, whispering words unheard to onlookers and you in turn. you then rest your head on his big, pillowy shoulder, holding onto his elbow as you try not to fall asleep. he rubs his hand over your smaller ones.

you do end up falling asleep. at the fashion event that you were specially invited to by the designer themselves.

luckily for you, the sweet moment between you and toji overshadowed your sleepy behaviour!

ᰋ third clip

when walking on the red carpet of the season two premier of ‘jujutsu kaisen’, you are dragged around for pictures and interviews and speaking with other actors. but one interview with you and toji has everybody talking.

as you answer the question you have received from the interviewer, toji stands beside and he is…not paying attention to your words per say.

his eyes wander from the top of your perfectly styled hair and down to your sharp tailored clothes that fit on your body so nicely.

toji is not at all subtle as he full on checks you out.

“look at their outfit…” he mumbles, shamelessly interrupting the interviewer who was speaking, just to talk about how good you look.

“yea-yeah! they look great!” the interviewer compliments you, a little thrown off by toji’s interruption.

“so, so beautiful…”

you laugh shyly at toji’s words, brushing down your clothes and looking down at yourself, “toji, are you even listening to the questions?”

“what questions?”

ᰋ fourth clip

you are a famous and respected actor. of course you must do a ‘what’s in my bag’ video with vogue.

after going through a couple of your obscure items, you come across some of the more treasured ones that you carry around with you.

“and this-,” you giggle, holding up a small, soft brown stuffed deer toy in the palm of your hand, “this is the little toy that toji got me! i liked the brand that makes these, so we got a toy that reminded us of one another…and he got me a deer.”

you are asked what toy you got for toji.

“i got toji an angry looking white bear. it suits him.”

later on through the video, you pull out a silver, vintage lighter.

“right. so…toji gave me this lighter too,” you flick it on and off a few times, “i told him i don’t smoke and he just say “you say that now but you’ll feel differently after doing this job for five years”” you cackle loudly at the memory, “…yeah, he’s not exactly wrong about that…”

ᰋ fifth clip

blurry footage emerges of you and toji at the after party of an awards show.

the dance area is filled with people dancing and commotion everywhere, but somehow, a fan noticed you and toji in the corner of the room.

a sensual r&b song plays in the background as you dance imperfectly, in between toji’s spread legs, looking at him and promoting him to join you.

he stares at you and takes a swig of his drink. the tie he wears is loose and his hair ruffled.

as you dance along with the song, toji stands and tames your hand in his, spinning you around and pulling you right against his chest and sways the both of you. toji rests his face on the side of your head and closes his eyes as you laugh at his antics.

that one video confirmed every single suspicion that your fans ever had about you and toji.

*

tag list: @tiredslepz | @hayatslife | @shxyxyxxxx | @snowprincesa1 | @laylasbunbunny | @mimiemie | @ncentic | @rosesored | @imover-18 | @gintokhi | @suzuperstarr | @lostgxrlblog | @jallie10 | @nnsav | @bunnyx-sakura | @bubbabobabubbles | @ladytamayolover | @keiva1000 | @morgyyyyyyy | @studiecoherence | @earth2fae | @ce-namonreads | @ib4ryuguji | @hisjaegerist | @basiloverthyme | @sweet-kiwi | @sayitowshi | @iovemytoru | @thecompletechaosmaster | @sugutoad | @inumakiiz | @uzxotic | @1meshugge1 | @kunikuzushisbeloved

a/n: an actor!toji fic after 2 months. he lives!

[theharddeck]

do you wanna make somethin' of it (Robert "Bob" Floyd x fem!reader)

pairing: bob floyd x fem!reader (no y/n)

synopsis: turns out, our favorite WSO has a side hustle, as quinn's favorite cowboy.

word count: 10.4k

warnings: 18+ explicit content, minors DNI: audio porn, a truly unhinged amount of dirty talk, overuse of pet names, bob's raging size kink, overstimulation via vibrators (and otherwise), unprotected PiV sex, an unrealistic number of orgasms, some dumbification, as can be expected.

A/N: this is way late bc i had to make sure the people who reblogged the moodboard were legal, thanks everyone for the patience and support! esp thank you @hangmanssunnies for being so encouraging, @sometimesanalice for being a gem and betaing thank you @laracrofted for coming up with bob's (ahem) inspirational reveal, and thank you everyone else for letting me be feral. there were a couple people who reblogged the moodboard but I couldn't tag them, so for the record, if you ask to be tagged, pls do make sure you're taggable AND ALSO THAT YOU HAVE YOUR AGE IN YOUR BIO I AM NOT KIDDING. the title is from Jo Dee Messina's 90s country bop, "Do You Wanna Make Something Of It" -- okay enjoy!

You paused, halfway into your flight suit, looking down at your phone. 

It was probably a bad idea to open an audio erotica app forty minutes before you had to be in the debriefing room with the rest of the aviators in your unit. 

But. 

You were ovulating, your vibrator was charged, and you’d just gotten a notification that BullRiderRhett had posted a new audio.

Before you knew it, you were grabbing your headphones and folding your flight suit by the door, leaving your tank top and sports bra on, but shimmying out of your panties. You set an alarm on your phone, connected your headphones and opened the app. 

Quickie During the Rodeo

After my ride, I don’t have much time before they call up the winners…but you look so damn good in that sundress. We have to be quick, though. [M4F] [Short Audio] [Established Relationship] [In Public] [Strong Language] [Moaning] [SFX]

Yeah, you thought to yourself, that’d do. 

You slid into bed, pulling a muting blanket over the lower half of your body as you settled into your bed and clicked play. 

Immediately, the sounds of a rodeo pushed through your headphones. 

You heard the shuffle of hundreds of feet, a rowdy crowd cheering, and distant country music over a speaker. You could almost imagine the dusty air, the smell of fresh hay and sweat, and the clamor of barrel racing in another arena. 

There was a steady clanking of spurs as a pair of boots walked towards you. 

“There y’are,” a low voice said, the perfect combination of fond and gravelly. You heard a shuffle of fabric, and a soft inhale, like the cowboy was wrapping you in his arms. Your eyes fell closed so you could immerse yourself in the fantasy. 

“How’s my girl doin’?” he asked, his voice muffled like he had buried his head in your shoulder.

You never responded verbally to these things; it broke the illusion to speak to an empty room, but you liked that Rhett paused, as if waiting for your answer. 

“Ah, well, I always ride better when I know you’re in the stands, cheerin’ for me,” he said. He had such a fantastic voice, low and soft, with this drawl that was so unpretentious and alluring. His canvas jacket rustled like he was hugging you tighter. 

“Just let me hold you for a sec, yeah?” he asked, as the ambient sounds of the rodeo seeped back in. You found yourself just listening for the sound of Rhett’s breathing over it, a slow and steady rhythm that was deeply centering. 

You heard when his breath caught, followed by a shuffling sound and a choked gasp from the cowboy.  

“Whoa, whoa,” Rhett’s voice was warm with surprise and delight. “Cut that out, darlin’, we can’t, they’re gonna call me back–”

His voice broke off on a low moan that had you biting your lip. 

Why did guys in real life never moan? 

It was such a pretty sound, deep and masculine, and full of desire. It was one of your favorite things about Rhett. Your hand slipped under the blanket, rubbing over your pussy gently, getting yourself used to the pressure. 

“Darlin’,” Rhett’s voice had gotten deeper, like a warning. “Ya can’t tease me like that, ‘s not kind.”

Your hips shifted at that voice, and Rhett laughed, low. 

“Y’just can’t help yourself, can you, sweet girl?”

It was your favorite pet name he used, just the way he said it. You were obsessed with the gravel in his voice, the melodic twang coupled with a gentleness that belied all his ruggedness. It was like he was being quiet to make sure no one overheard him, like his words were for your ears only. 

His spurs clinked as the noise of the rodeo faded, as though he was leading you somewhere away from prying eyes. A second later, there was a gentle, wet sound, like he was kissing you. 

How would he taste, you wondered. Would his lips be soft? Or would they be chapped? Would he be ravenous, turned on from the adrenaline of the ride, or would he be slow, savoring your taste? 

You turned on your vibrator, on a low and warming setting. You traced it lightly over your pussy,  acclimatizing, as Rhett’s voice and the soft vibrations sent a heat under your skin. 

Rhett’s breathing was heavy, like being near you made him breathless.

“Shameless,” Rhett chided, amused and fond. “I know I can’t stop you, but I’m not about to let anyone see ya like this. You’re mine.” 

Your hips canted up into the vibrator, spurred on by the idea of being his. 

“Oh, you like that, huh, sweet girl?” Rhett practically purred, his voice like a caress, “You like being mine?”

Rhett’s words washing over you, and vibrator’s motions met less resistance as you felt yourself growing wet.

“What if I…” he asked, and you heard fabric shuffling, like he was reaching down and under your dress. “Fuck, darlin’, are you wet for me already?” 

You pressed your lips together to trap in a whimper. 

You knew it was formulaic, but that didn’t make you less turned on. In this fantasy, you were Rhett’s girlfriend, you were already wet for him, you were needy enough to risk being caught to have his dick inside of you. 

“Ya sure about this?” Rhett asked, and you could hear the intensity in his voice. Like he needed you too, just as desperately. “Yeah? Yeah, me too…fuck—yeah, feel me through my jeans. Feel how hard I am for you.”

You turned the vibrator up, imagining the rough texture of denim against your pussy. How hard Rhett would be, how good it would feel to rock up against the dirty fabric. Probably not the most hygienic, but he’d be so hot, even through his jeans, impossibly tempting.

“Go on, take me out,” Rhett directed, his voice a low whisper. 

He moaned in your ear as a belt buckle came undone, and your head fell back as you circled the vibrator over your clit. God, he sounded so good, he sounded unraveled. You imagined the weight of him in your hand, and you shifted your hips, wishing you could feel the heat of him. 

“Shit, okay. We hafta be quick,” Rhett panted. “I know, I know, turn around for me, darlin’. Brace yourself against the wall here…Christ, you look so good like this…ya ready for me?” 

You couldn’t help yourself; you slid a hand down your body, changing the angle of the vibrator so you could run a finger through your folds. 

Rhett held his breath, like it was too good, too much, and you waited.

Then came his strangled, relieved exhale, and you pushed a finger into yourself as you imagined him sliding into you. 

“That’s right, sweet girl,” Rhett praised, his voice breathless, awed. “Let me into that tight pussy, nice and easy...”

Your mouth fell open as you imagined him filling you. 

Would he be thick? Long? Maybe a slight curve to his cock? Cut or uncut? You licked your lips, your mind spinning with possibilities, your fingers a paltry imitation of the thing you wanted so badly. 

“Ah, that’s it, that’s it,” Rhett murmured, and you couldn’t help but add another finger. “Such a good girl, for me, aren’t ya?”

You wanted to be his good girl. 

Rhett was breathing hard, and the rhythm of it was perfect. You circled around your clit with the vibrator, and you were panting now too, your hips canting up as you fucked yourself on your fingers. You could imagine him driving into you, his hips thrusting his cock into you. It would be thick, you decided, broad and heavy. 

“Ah, you’re taking me so well,” Rhett grunted. “You were made to take this fat cock, weren’t you?” 

His breaths were coming faster, and you could hear him slamming his hips into yours. You could imagine his balls swinging, could imagine him driving into you to reach that spot your fingers just couldn’t brush against. 

“This pussy feels so good, darlin’,” Rhett whispered, “the way you’re clenchin’ around me…”

Your thighs fell farther apart as you tried to time your fingers’ thrusts to his cadence. He was grunting after each thrust, this beautiful soft sound of exertion and pleasure.

A faint cheer rose above the sounds of your panting; another event had concluded. 

“Shit, we hafta hurry, they’re gonna–” Rhett broke off, his hips snapping faster. “C’mere, let me play with that clit, let me feel you–fuck yeah, clench around me, just like that.” 

You turned the vibrator up, your fingers faltering inside of you at the increased vibration and his words. Rhett’s grunts were getting higher pitched, a delicate thread of need seeping into them and you were going to lose your mind; it was perfect. 

“Ah, such a good girl,” Rhett groaned. “God, I don’t deserve you, ya feel so good…are you close, darlin? Tell me you’re close, I need to feel you cumming on my cock, will ya do that for me?”

You were bucking into your hand, chasing a release that had come on so fast, so strong and you were so damn close, you just needed–

“There ya go,” Rhett breathed, his voice tight. “You feel–oh, sweet girl, don’t stop clenching me like that. Oh, you’re gonna make me cum with that tight pussy, fuck, are you gonna come with me, darlin’? Please come with me, please…”

You pumped your fingers in time with his pleas, Rhett’s voice growing hoarse as his hips sped up. You were so close, he sounded so good, you were almost there. 

“Feels so good…Ah, I’m coming, I’m there– ah, shit,” Rhett moaned, his voice choking, and you orgasmed along with him, collapsing back into the pillow. 

Your legs shook and you jerked the vibrator away from your sensitive clit, stroking gently over your pussy with your other hand and easing yourself down.Your body felt like it was humming and you turned the vibrator off, sated and pleasure drunk.  

Something about Rhett always had you timing it perfectly, feeling so in sync and so primed, and when he came, it was like your permission to. 

Rhett was groaning softly in your ear. 

“So beautiful, darlin’,” he whispered. “God, I’m so lucky, look at you…so damn beautiful…”

The audio would fade out in another few minutes and you fumbled for your phone to turn it off, and turn off the just-in-case alarm that you’d set. 

There was a bittersweet moment with audio erotica that didn’t exist in traditional porn– aftercare. Instead of just ending a scene, most creators seemed to enjoy winding down with their listeners, saying soft things, silly things, fond things. It straddled the line between soothing and demoralizing, and you couldn’t say you loved the contrast between the care in Rhett’s voice and the emptiness around you. 

An emptiness that was interrupted by a loud pounding on your door. 

“Hey, I can see your light under the door,” Bradley called from the hallway, “you better not still be asleep! If we’re late to Mav’s briefing you know he’s gonna have us doing laps around the tarmac.”

You stuck your tongue out at the ceiling on principle, grateful for the quiet of your vibrator and the distance between the door and your bed.

“Calm your tits, Rooster,” you yelled back, “I’m practically ready.”

“Damn better be,” you heard Bradley say, loud enough to be heard, soft enough to know he wasn’t actually pressed.

You gave yourself another ten seconds to revel in that perfect orgasm, and then swung your legs over the side of the bed. You cleaned yourself off quickly, dressed even quicker, and were out the door in no time. 

Some might even say, with a pep in your step. 

“Told you,” you muttered as you walked by Bradley’s row in the debriefing room, on time, and he huffed. 

You settled into your normal seat, waving good morning to Callie and lifting your chin at Mickey, who grinned back at you. Bob was in the seat next to yours, as you’d all agreed early on that WSOs had to stick together, and you bumped his shoulder with yours as you sat. 

The sweet man smiled, a hidden thing, and looked away quickly. 

Sometimes, you felt like you knew there was more to him than he let on. 

You’d seen him in action, seen him make split-second decisions that kept him and Phoenix in the air. You’d seen him crank out 200 pushups with Jake and Javy like it was nothing. But at the same time, he never seemed to hold your eye for longer than strictly necessary, seeming more comfortable to address the floor (unless someone pushed too hard, and he’d snap something so sassy it’d make you bite the inside of your mouth to keep from laughing). 

When you’d first met him, you’d thought he was cute, in an Old Hollywood leading man kind of way, soft muscles and deep eyes.

You’d wondered if maybe you made him nervous. You’d thought maybe there was interest in those ocean blue eyes, but time went on, and he remained sweet and polite and kind. He was the same to you as he was with everyone else, and you were led to the reality that he was just an incredibly decent person. 

Crushes came and went like water, especially in a group as gorgeous as the one you flew with, so you let him have his secrets. 

The lights clicked off as Maverick strode to the front of the room, already talking and clicking his way through some kind of demonstration. 

The hours in the room flew by.

By the time he finished, your head was spinning with a blur of parameters and calculations and mission expectations. You knew pilots felt the same way about your job as you did about theirs, but you were always grateful that at the end of briefings you only had to worry about systems and odds, not about flying a plane. As you were dismissed, everyone crowded to the center aisle, trying to get out and to the hangar as quickly as possible. Someone sneezed, or someone pushed someone; Harvard dropped his coffee.

It wasn’t full, and you were all in flight suits anyways, but you still startled when it fell, splashing over the row you were sitting in. Black coffee flew over seats and notebooks (thankfully no phones), and someone laughed as Harvard’s attempts to catch it just served to further empty the cup. Bob took the worst of it, on the end of your row.

"Ah, shit," Bob muttered, and you froze. 

It wasn't that Harvard's spilled coffee had ruined Bob's notes, and yours too. 

It wasn't that everyone in the briefing room was looking back at your row in surprise. 

It wasn't even that Bob had sworn, even though you'd never heard anything harsher than "gosh" from the WSO's lips. 

It was that that cuss, in that voice, in that same mumbled tone, had pushed you to orgasm four hours ago. 

“Alright, it’s just coffee,” Maverick called over the clamor. “We’re burning daylight, people, come on.” 

Harvard was apologizing profusely, someone was passing paper towels out, but you felt completely out of your body, in shock. 

Bob was BullRiderRhett.

The WSO who asked for ginger ale when everyone else did shots at the Hard Deck, who cleaned his glasses when he got nervous, who stayed up all night to help Payback’s kid put together a Lego Statue of Liberty last time he was in town …was the guy who had talked you through the last few months of orgasms. 

(Yes, you had an annual subscription).

(Yes, you deserved it). 

When you let yourself back into your room at the end of the night, it still felt surreal. 

In retrospect, you should’ve been a million times more dialed in– you’d had a $73 million machine under your hands, and the only thing on your mind all day had been this revelation.

How had you never noticed before?? 

Now that you were thinking of it, Bob did have that slight accent when he was tired, or when he was mad enough at something stupid Jake said…but what were you even supposed to do with this knowledge?

You moved through your skincare much the same way you’d moved through most of the day – on autopilot. 

A knock on your door startled you. 

“Now’s not the time, Bradshaw,” you called, automatically. 

“Uh,” called a too-familiar voice, “not Bradshaw.”

You winced at your reflection in the mirror, trying desperately to decide if you recognized Bob’s voice from countless drills or from your Favorites list. You crossed your arms across your chest, your sweatshirt dragging against the hem of your pajama shorts as you slouched over to the door. 

“Robert,” you announced, as you opened it, mentally smacking your palm against your forehead. You had literally never called him Robert; what was wrong with you??

Could’ve been worse, you mused. 

You could’ve said ‘Rhett’.

“Hey,” he said, and if he was thrown by the use of his full name, he didn’t show it. 

He looked the same. 

The same, but in the way that had made you catch your breath when you first met him, when you were relieved that he was so unassuming and kind, because if he’d been any kind of authoritative, it would’ve debilitated you. 

Tonight, he’d clearly showered after drills. 

His hair was freshly combed and still damp, darker than normal. A tendril fell in front of his glasses, leaving a small line of fog against the outer corner of one of the lenses. He was in a plain white tshirt and light sweatpants, and you made yourself stop from looking further because you were not about to objectify your friend just because you now knew that he could dirty talk with the best of them. 

And now you were thinking about that.

“Are you mad at me?” Bob asked, and it snapped you out of your spiral. 

He was frowning at the sill, his hands shoved in his pockets, and his chest tight. There was a purse in between his eyebrows, and you really could not understand him, because how could a man who was objectively gorgeous, subjectively sweet, be this adorable? He looked up and the moment your eyes met, you looked away. 

“No,” you said quickly, clearing your throat. “Of course not. Obviously.”

“I mean, not obviously,” Bob said, rubbing a sneaker against the carpet in the hallway. “You practically sprinted out of the briefing this morning, refused to speak to me over comms during drills, and you won’t look at me for more than two seconds, and that’s normally someone else’s line to me.”

It was a weak joke, but it was funny, and you could hear in his voice that he was trying to set you at ease, and that really only made you feel worse. 

So you stepped aside and held open the door, not really trusting yourself to say anything else. Bob looked nervous, and you wanted to tell him it was you, not him, but instead you waited in silence as he stepped into the room. 

You only had the light over the sink on, and the room was in soft shadows, but you thought it might be more weird if you turned on a light, like you were calling attention to it. You shut the door and Navy rooms didn’t really come with guest furniture, so you gestured to the foot of your bed, while you paced. 

“This is going to be awkward,” you warned him, glancing in his direction, and wishing you hadn’t. 

He was sitting on the foot of your bed, as directed, legs spread slightly and his elbows resting on his knees. You could see the muscles of his shoulders through the tshirt, and his eyes seemed especially bright, in the dim light from the room. 

“Okay,” Bob said easily, and you appreciated that he wasn’t rushing you. Maybe he was starting to understand that this was something you were working through, rather than something he had done.

You switched directions, walking the length of the room, and then the length again. 

You had to say it.

You’d just have to say it, and that would explain it, and then it would be out, and then you could figure out how to move forward. Bob was a problem solver, like you, and you were both smart enough to figure this out. You were also both adults. You could just say it. 

You stopped in front of him, and Bob sat up a little straighter, like he wanted to be sure he was being respectful to the weight of whatever you were saying. God, he was such a good person, why did you have to be such a creep. 

“Iknowaboutbullriderrhett,” you said in a rush, clasping your hands in front of you. The words seemed to echo around the room and you stared at Bob, waiting for him to react. 

He didn’t, not really.

He nodded, slowly, and you watched him process the day through the lens of your revelation. 

“So, you’re disappointed it’s me,” he said, like he was clarifying, and you shook your head.

“What?” you asked, confused, and Bob shrugged.

“Like if you were expecting a ranch hand from Wyoming, I get it, it’s weird that it’s just me.”

You blinked. “That…that’s beside the point; I feel guilty, like this is a weird invasion of privacy, and isn’t that what you should be asking, anyways, is if I’m going to tell anybody? I won’t, but–”

Bob shook his head, his expression still pretty guarded. “Whose opinion do you think matters to me more than yours?”

And how the hell were you supposed to respond to that?

“What?” you managed again. 

Bob looked at you.

It was maybe the longest uninterrupted eye contact you’d ever had, and you weren’t sure if it was because he initiated it, or if something was different. But it made you curious, it made you stop rambling, it made you be still, and let Bob look, because you liked how he was looking at you. 

He smiled, that familiar, bashful, expression, and it calmed you slightly. 

It wasn’t like there was a demon possessing your friend, it wasn’t a dark secret, it was just a part of him that he didn’t bring out at work. His smile reminded you that you knew him, that you trusted him. 

Then his head fell to the side, his eyebrows lowering behind his glasses, his expression turning inquisitive as he said, “You didn’t answer my question.”

It was still Bob. 

But his voice was lower, his voice was softer and you knew that voice, but seeing it fall from petal pink lips was a revelation and you shivered. You pulled the sleeves of your sweatshirt down over your palms, hoping you could disguise it, but Bob saw it anyway. 

Of course he did. 

He could calculate projectile trajectories while at supersonic speed; of course he could see when his voice made you shiver. The expression on his face turned smug, and that was new, that was nothing you’d seen before and you were pretty much infatuated with it immediately. 

Objectively, Bob was the best. 

You knew it, everyone knew it. This was maybe the first time you’d seen him look like he knew it, and something like pride blossomed in your chest at the thought that it was because of you. 

“I’m not disappointed,” you said honestly, and Bob smiled fully.

That was how he should always be, you decided, proud of himself, pleased by you. 

He pushed himself off the bed. 

He walked towards you slowly, slow enough that you could tell he was giving you time to back away, or tell him to stop, but you sure as shit weren’t going to do either. 

Instead, your head tilted back as he came to stop in front of you.

“We have two options,” he said, almost conversationally, like you weren’t this close to melting into a puddle at seeing this side of him. “One: I go back to my room; we’ve learned something new today, but we go on like normal. Or–”

“Or,” you chose, not waiting to hear what the second option was. “Whatever ‘or’ is, that’s the one I want.”

It truly didn’t matter; if the choice was him walking out the door or not, you wanted whatever made him stay. 

He huffed an exhale of a laugh, a soft sound that you’d heard a dozen times but it still made your breath catch. You’d grinned fondly when you heard it over comms, after Callie calmly roasted Jake, you’d shivered when you heard it in your headphones, but now that Bob was physically in front of you, you thought this was the best iteration of it. 

“What do you like?” he asked softly, and it felt like a loaded question. 

Like maybe he was asking which audios, or maybe the themes, or if him, in front of you, was enough. The room felt suspended, like someone had paused the film of your life and you could see everything outside of yourself. The heat in Bob’s eyes, the way his fingers, held loose at his side, twitched slightly, like he wanted to reach for you. The way your own breath caught, like you were careful not to break a spell, like you wanted it to never break. 

You kissed him. 

You probably could’ve been more graceful about it, but he was standing just there, and you needed to know, needed to feel him against you. You reached for his arms, your hands grasping above his elbows to pull him down and press yourself closer. 

He was so soft. 

The moment your lips brushed over him, you felt him bending, moving. His glasses bumped into your nose as he adjusted and then his hands were on your waist, spreading over your back and how had you never noticed how big his hands were? They felt huge, and his chest was strong and warm as he pulled you into him. 

You could smell his shampoo, something earthy and sweet, and it was intoxicating how pure it was. He didn’t feel pure. He felt hot, kissing you back with an urgency that stole your breath away. Bob kissed you with certainty, with earnestness, and you were obsessed.

You pulled back, staying in the cradle of his arms, needing to be this close when you answered the question he’d asked. Long lashes fluttered against the tops of his cheeks as you broke the kiss, and Bob pulled in a long breath through his nose. When he opened his eyes, the blue of them was so bright, cutting. You didn’t know how he held it all, his sharpness and softness, gentleness and intention. 

“Can I show you?” you asked. 

He blinked, the motion slow, as he looked between your eyes, trying to focus with you so close. You saw the corner of his mouth turn up in that bashful smile, and his arms around you tightened slightly.

“Show me,” he said, your question but now a command, and your mouth went dry. 

His voice sent a flush of heat over your skin, and whatever he wanted, you’d say yes, for this man who was your friend and your fantasy, and asking you so nicely. 

It amazed you how you didn’t feel nervous. 

This was arguably the most intimate situation you’d found yourself in in a hot minute, but instead of nerves or anxiety, you could only think of how much you wanted Bob to see how much he affected you. From that first moment you’d met him, to the crush you’d packed away, to the voice that haunted your dreams, you wanted him. And you wanted to see how that would affect him. 

You walked over to the sink, grabbing the vibrator from where you’d left it after you cleaned it this morning. Bob walked back over to the bed, taking up his original post at the foot of it, but his eyes never left you. He toed off his sneakers, and you slipped out of your pajama shorts, leaning over to arranging pillows against the headboard. 

You climbed into the bed and rested your back against the pillows, nudging Bob’s thigh with your toes before you bent your knees. He turned himself to face you, his long legs unfolding outside of yours. It was like he was being careful not to touch you, and you liked that this was how it was going to start– just his voice and your pleasure. You hoped once he saw what a tight string was tied between the two, maybe he’d get a little more involved. A part of you wished that you’d deepened the kiss earlier, but it was just as well to have the anticipation of it.  

It was ridiculous that you were already turned on. 

You’d had eight hours to come to terms with the fact that Bob was Rhett, but as he sat across from you, it was like his gaze was scorching you. His bright eyes ran over you hungrily, and you rolled your neck, enjoying being the object of his gaze. 

You’d been bold when you suggested it, but now the silence of the room seemed to stretch. You wondered if you should ask Bob to talk, or if that would be weird. Bob looked at you, his damp hair falling in front of his glasses again, and he brushed it aside absently. 

“Is this where you lay, when you listen to me?” he asked, his eyes tracing over the simple bed, the regulation bedding, the pillows you’d brought in to spruce it up. His voice was low, curious, and now that you were listening for it, you could hear the traces of a drawl, hanging on the edges of it.

You nodded, unable to look away from him, and his nose flared slightly at the confirmation.

“You’re so pretty,” he said, and it washed over you. It was such a simple compliment, but the truth of how he said it, like every fiber of his being meant it, warmed you. 

“God, thinking about you…” he trailed off, “just lying here, looking like this…getting off to my voice…do you touch yourself first? Pet that pussy before you use your toy?”

Your mouth actually fell open hearing Bob Floyd say ‘pussy’ so casually. 

And he said it sitting in your bed, his eyes on you, his voice dropping into a deep drawl and yeah, you were going to do whatever he asked. 

You shifted slightly, a hand falling between your thighs to press over your clothed cunt. You cupped yourself, loving the way Bob’s eyes followed your hand with rapt attention. The kiss, his words, his eyes…you weren’t wet yet, but you could feel your body warming, turning towards Bob. 

“Love that you take your time with your pussy, warm her up, slow. ‘s not a thing you have to rush, not when the building feels so good. And I bet you feel so good, don’t you, so soft and warm…”

It didn’t feel slow, not with how hot Bob’s voice was. How good it felt to have him in the room with you, not just an empty echoing in your ears but physically here. You continued to tease yourself over your panties and you felt when they grew damp, when your arousal slowed your fingers, made the fabric slick.

“Fuck,” Bob breathed, and you whimpered. 

The sound was involuntary, a reaction to seeing sweet, wholesome, Bob swearing over the sight of you. It made you feel regal, and if you had to guess, pulling sounds out of you made him feel the same. At the sound of your whimper, Bob’s eyes dropped to your mouth, and you watched the tip of his tongue push through his lips, as he wet them. 

“Ah, you sound so good, too, I can’t believe–” he broke off, laughing quietly. “Can’t believe I’m jealous of my own damn self. How many times have I made you cum, and I’ve never gotten to see it?”

It was your turn to laugh, not quite willing to reveal how much you listened to BullRiderRhett. 

“That many, huh?” Bob’s voice was smug, and it was such a good sound on him. You ground your wrist over your clit, pressing into the hard bone, craving the friction.

“Take your panties off,” he said, “touch yourself, not the vibrator yet.”

You followed his instruction, pulling up your legs to peel off your panties and resettling. You extended a leg down the bed, pressing inside of Bob’s long leg, as you trailed your hand between your thighs. At the first brush of skin against your sensitive folds, your head tipped back against the headboard. 

It was just your hand, but with Bob here, it felt like it was almost his. It was his bidding at least, and you explored yourself leisurely, dragging your fingers through your wetness.

“Yeah, that’s right, bet you feel so good,” Bob said, his voice so low. “Feel yourself, sweet girl, tell me how it feels.”

You gasped, your hips rising in a pavlovian response to the endearment. It was somehow even more overwhelming when it was Bob who spoke it over you, here, in the flesh. When he could see that your skin prickled, that your breath caught, in response to him. 

“Say it again,” you whispered, hoping he’d understand, and when you looked back at him, the expression on his face was one of adoration and hunger, awe and need. 

“Sweet girl?” he asked gently, but his eyes were so dark. “You like being that for me, don’t you? My sweet, sweet girl.”

You nodded weakly, your fingers suddenly not enough. You rubbed over your clit, trying to stop the truth from spilling out of you as heat fanned out through your body from your touch. 

“Yours,” you corrected weakly, and you scrambled for the vibrator and switched it on, using the intense humming of the toy as an excuse to hide from Bob’s reaction to your admission. 

You felt one of his hands wrap around your ankle, and his long thumb stroked from your heel up to the joint. It was the perfect touch, and just grounding enough to keep you from being overwhelmed by the vibrations. 

“You sound so pretty,” Bob murmured, “those little whimpers you make, fuck.”

Were you whimpering?

You felt like you noticed everything a bit too late, too loud. You realized you were pulling the vibrator over your cunt in a mimicry of the strumming motion Bob’s thumb was tracing on your ankle, and your hips canted up. Pleasure swirled in you, hot and tingling, but you felt something missing. 

“Bob,” you panted, god, how were you already panting, “I need–”

You turned the toy higher and broke off, writhing. 

“Darlin’, love you saying my name like this,” Bob drawled, and it was a proper drawl now, and how he said darlin’ made you feel like you might combust. “Can’t believe I get to see you like this, you look so good…knowing this isn’t your first time working yourself to my voice, makes me so damn jealous.”

You whined, pressing the vibrator more firmly against your skin, your hips starting to grind into it. 

“Tell me,” you asked, your voice reedy, and Bob huffed a laugh, like you didn’t even have to ask. He ran a hand over his thigh, coming to rest at the seat of his sweatpants and you bit your lip as he adjusted himself through the thin fabric. 

“So damn jealous,” he repeated, “thinking how many orgasms I’ve missed. How many times you came when I asked, how those thighs would tremble as you fucked yourself thinking of taking me…fuck, honey, you’ve heard me cum, and I’ve never–”

A moan pushed its way past your lips, as you realized that the groans and grunts and needy noises that you got off to weren’t incorporeal: they belonged to Bob. 

You looked down at the foot of the bed where Bob was watching you greedily. His eyes roamed over your spread legs, the twitches in your thighs, the slackness in your jaw, and you looked at him too. His pale skin was flushed, color in pink splotches high on his cheeks, and his lips were parted. His chest rose and fell as he drew in deep breaths, and when he shifted slightly, you moaned again. 

“Can you touch yourself?” you asked, almost shy, wanting to see him. You felt good, so insanely good, but the thing you’d always loved about the Rhett audios was how much pleasure it sounded like he was getting too. There was something so hot about knowing you were the root of someone else’s desire and pleasure, and you wanted so badly to be that for Bob. 

“You’re gonna have to wait just a little longer, sweet girl,” Bob said, but he ran a hand over the thigh of his sweatpants, adjusting himself again, and your hips bucked up of their own volition. You guessed he was wearing underwear under his sweatpants because you couldn’t see an outline, but the idea of his dick hanging that far down his thigh had your mouth watering. 

“Wanna see you,” you protested, hearing a sound like a pout in your voice and Bob’s hand on your ankle tightened. He looked at you hard, and you knew he was gambling, trying to decide if he wanted to play a card.

“I know, sweet girl,” he said, licking his lips, “but you have to earn my cock.”

Your eyes rolled back and your core clenched at those words. How many times had you heard Rhett tease you with that? But it was different now, because Bob was here. Because he was real, and his cock was real, and however many times you’d wondered about Rhett, your curiosity could be sated in Bob. 

When you lifted your head to look back at Bob, he was slackjawed, watching you writhe. You were practically humping the toy, chasing an orgasm that suddenly felt so much closer. The vibrator felt stronger than normal, or maybe you were more sensitive, but you felt your climax building, and your thighs started shaking. 

“I wanna see you,” you repeated, and it sounded pathetic, but it was true, you did. In a moment, this had switched from getting off in front of your friend to needing your friend’s dick, and you didn’t know how Bob knew it but he did. 

He readjusted his grip on your ankle and before you could react he pulled. 

You slid down the bed, your thighs parting around where he now kneeled; he braced himself over you, and you whined, needing his touch. He kissed you, his mouth wide and plundering, slanting his lips over yours. You moaned into his kiss, so different from the soft gentleness of your first embrace. This was Bob kissing you, and his tongue delved into your mouth and you opened for him. 

“I’m too greedy for that, sweet girl,” he whispered, his lips against yours. “I know if I get between these thighs I’m going to lose myself, and I want to see how much you want it. I wanna be here, fully here, the first time I get to see you cum.” 

He reached down, and you felt his hand trace over yours. You’d nearly dropped the vibrator when he pulled you down the bed, but now Bob tightened your grip, and guided it back to your cunt. You keened as the vibrator pushed between your folds, and Bob followed your lead, wanting to see how you fucked yourself for him. 

It was better with him. 

His strong hand bracketing yours, his other at the back of your neck, holding you steady. His hand was on yours but he brought his face close to yours again, and you drank in the reality that he was here, this close, holding you. His breath was hot against your skin, and his glasses were fogging up from how hard you were breathing. 

“So are you gonna let me see it, darlin’?” he asked against your skin, and that voice, coupled with his touch, nearly had you there. “You gonna come for me, let me see what it looks like when my sweet girl gets off with just my voice and the toy we’re using on her? You’re almost there, honey, I can see it, come for me come on now–”

He sounded so good. 

His voice was perfect and soothing and it felt like a dream but it wasn’t, it was real. He was holding you, feeling you, breathing the same air and working you. You’d never been so aware of your body and how it was tuned towards someone else. You cried out his name as you came, your back arching and your free hand fisting in Bob’s tshirt, reminding yourself he was there, he was there, he was there. 

You felt like you were floating. 

Pleasure coursed through your body and you could feel it pulsing in your fingertips, beating in your heart. You became slowly aware of the room around you. The air felt cold against your sweat-dampened skin, the hum of the refrigerator was the only noise other than your hard breathing. Bob was still over you, and he’d pulled the vibrator away from you, switching it off without really looking, running a soothing hand over your hip. The hand at the back of your neck was firm, holding you tightly so you could feel him. 

“How’re ya doing, sweet girl?” he asked softly, and you felt him press a kiss to your cheek. “Did that feel good?“

You hummed in agreement, words still beyond you. His voice was so gentle, but had a raspy edge, like he was thinking over the last several minutes, holding them in his mind.

“You did such a good job for me,” he murmured, and you turned into his touch.

He was like sunshine, wasn’t he? 

Just warm, and good, and you wanted to bask in him and his light like a dryad. His eyes darted away once he realized you were looking at him, and it made your heart skip a beat, that he could somehow be shy after coaxing you through one of the hottest orgasms of your life. 

You were trying to think of how to say “your turn” in a way that wasn’t corny or cringey, but what you came up with was, “Can we keep going?”

Bob’s eyes snapped back to yours, and the world seemed to pause for a moment, hovering. Waiting, hoping, and Bob’s chin dipped, just slightly, and all was right. 

“Baby,” he said, in the low, perfect, voice, “I’d like nothing more.”

When he kissed you, you were both smiling, somewhat giddy, and any nerves that had gathered during that pause dissipated, as you kissed his smile-thinned lips. 

You shifted slightly, pushing yourself back up the bed and pulling Bob with you. 

He moved easily, his long body spanning over yours, pressing you back into the mattress with the most delicious pressure. His hands were wandering, then, delicate fingers tracing over your sweatshirt, and when he lingered at the hem of it, you pushed him off. You didn’t want to be patient, didn’t want his chivalry, and so you pulled your sweatshirt over your head before you had time to second guess yourself. 

The way Bob looked at you, you wished you’d done it sooner. 

His tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip as he stared at your chest and you pushed yourself off the bed by your shoulders, so you could reach behind you and undo your bra. The moment the garment fell off, Bob’s hands were on you, his wide palms cupping your breasts. Your eyes fluttered shut at his touch, humming in the back of your throat as his fingers explored you. You felt the bed shift as he moved, and you gasped when a warm breath ghosted over your bared skin. 

Bob kissed down from your sternum, wet kisses over you, and by the time he reached your nipples, he was practically lapping at your skin. You whimpered as his mouth closed over your nipples, his tongue swirling over you as his hand teased your other breast. When he hummed, you felt it all over, the soft vibration over your skin. 

“Bob,” you gasped, and he moaned. 

“Ya sound so pretty,” he whispered into your skin, “somehow better than I imagined.” 

Your breath caught as his mouth moved to the valley between your breasts, and he laved the same attention to the other. He couldn’t have meant that how it sounded. As incomprehensible that this was happening, it was wilder still to think that he had imagined this, as you had. 

“You thought of me?” you asked, your own voice sounding nearly breathless. 

“Honey,” teeth grazed over your nipple, and Bob chuckled, that beautiful low laugh. “Who do you think I’m talkin’ to when I make those audios?”

His lips closed over you again, but the swirling of his tongue wasn’t enough to distract from the words he’d just uttered. 

He wasn’t done, either. 

“Y’know how many nights I’d wondered about the taste of your skin,” he murmured into it, “or what your tits would feel like in my hands? What sounds you’d make when I kissed you, how soft you’d be, everywhere? If you’d cry, or moan, or laugh when you came, or how you’d say my name…” 

Your hand wound back into his hair and you pulled him back up to your mouth. This kiss was desperate, so much unsaid between the both of you. So much longing, so much wondering and now it was here. You couldn’t explore each other fast enough, and you were clawing at his clothing, trying to feel as much of his skin as possible. Bob was just as eager as you were, pulling off of you to shuck off his tshirt and sweatpants, and you reached for his glasses. 

He blinked at you slowly as you pulled them off of him.

This sweet man. 

He was so focused on you, his eyes so intent even as he struggled to focus, and you couldn’t believe how lucky you were. You leaned over to place them carefully on your nightstand, and when you came back to the bed, Bob’s arms settled around you in the most comforting embrace. 

You loved the feeling of his skin. 

He was so soft, pale skin covering deceptively strong muscles, and you were obsessed with the dichotomy. Your hands greedily traversed over his broad shoulders, thick biceps, taut stomach, and when you got to the hem of his boxers, you felt his breath catch as he shifted over you. 

Fuck. 

You’d thought it might’ve been a trick of the light, or a trick of sweatpants, some kind of trick, but under your hand, Bob felt hung. Your fingers rubbed over the bulge in his boxers, and Bob’s head dropped to your shoulders. 

“We don’t have to–” he started, and broke off when your touch reached the end of him. You were just tracing the shape of him, but your breath caught when you felt his fat head, the cleft at his tip, even through the thin fabric. 

“We do,” you said, swallowing quickly, not even trying to hide the way your thoughts were racing, “I really hope you have a condom, Floyd, because we really, really have to.”

He huffed, and then he pressed a kiss to your shoulder, pushing himself off you and reaching down to feel around the ground for his sweatpants. You loved that he had a condom on him – not because it meant that he was expecting this, but because it just confirmed for you that Bob was the type to look at birth control as shared responsibility, not just a matter of whether a gal took the pill or felt like risking going without. He fumbled for a moment, and you couldn’t help yourself. 

While he was distracted (admittedly, this was probably a task you could have thought of while he still had his glasses on) you leaned over and traced your tongue over his collarbone. He smelled so good, and you could just taste the salt of his sweat. Bob’s breath grew ragged, and you loved the sound of it, kissing up his neck and finding that tempting spot where you could feel his pulse. You loved how frantic it was, loved the steadiness of him. 

He found the condom.

You shifted back to your elbow, watching with blatant interest as he shoved his boxers down his thighs, tore the wrapper open and rolled the condom onto his dick. 

Holy. Shit. 

He looked like a work of art. 

A beautiful flush had worked its way across his chest and throat, the tendons on his arms and hands stood out in stark contrast, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his cock. He really was that big. 

“What is it?” he asked quietly, and your eyes darted back up to his face to find his brows furrowing slightly, since he couldn’t read your silence or your expression.

You pushed yourself up to kneeling on the edge of the bed, Bob still standing beside it, and reached for him. He stepped into your embrace easily, mollified by the shared warmth between your bodies, as you reassured him with soft kisses wherever you could reach.

“I thought it was a line,” you admitted, somewhat embarrassed at how wantonly you’d just been staring at him. “Just a cliche ‘oh, you want to choke on this big dick’, but…but you’re actually, you know…”

Bob smiled, somehow bashful, as you pitched your voice lower in an approximation of Rhett’s drawl. 

“Is that an offer?” he asked, and oh you liked this side of him– teasing, relaxed, a little cocky. 

And the thought of choking on him…it was a really great fantasy. He’d hurt your jaw something fierce, but you wanted to see if you could draw those breathy whimpers out of him. Figure out what your tongue could do to him, see how much he could take, push him a little further, and make him cum down your throat. 

“Honestly,” you said, and yeah, your throat was dry just from the thought of it, “I really want to try that, sometime.”

At your tone or your words, you couldn’t be sure, Bob’s hips pushed forward slightly. With the height difference of you kneeling and him standing, his cock brushed against your ribs. You were both suddenly so aware of him, his thick cock resting between you, and Bob’s hips pushed forward again. 

“You’re so soft,” he murmured, and his hips slid back, slowly. His hands were on your waist, holding you still as he ground against you. Your mouth fell open at the heavy motion, the promise of it, and the duration of it. 

“You’re so big,” you whispered, another truth that should’ve sounded like a cliche, but instead was just a fact. 

“You’ll fit me,” Bob said, with such confidence and certainty that suddenly you didn’t care if it was in your mouth or between your legs, you needed him in you. 

“Please,” you asked, and Bob groaned, actually groaned, like you asking was the best thing he’d ever heard. His hands were so tight on your waist, like he needed that control and you knew how you wanted him. 

You leaned up to press a quick kiss to his lips, and then turned back to the bed, your hand sliding up towards the headboard, your ass lifting like an invitation. Bob wasted no time, climbing back over the bed and shifting you so you were lengthwise on the bed again, and then draping his long body over yours. Your head rolled between your shoulders; he felt so good. Warm and strong, and all around you, and then you felt his big hand between your thighs. He opened your thighs gently, and then a thick finger traced between them. 

“So wet,” he murmured, so close to your ear, and you shivered. “You’re gonna feel so good around me, aren’t you?”

You nodded, words failing you in your anticipation. But Bob wasn’t in a rush. His calloused finger teased through your folds, smearing the remnants of your orgasm up over your clit, playing with your cunt, until you were shaking. 

You whimpered, your arms trembling as you braced yourself on the bed. You pushed your hips back into his touch, and you felt Bob’s breath shutter from his chest pressed to your back, but he didn’t move any faster. 

“Don’t rush me, honey,” Bob said, his voice low, and you tried to hold still, you did, but his teasing was too much. 

He alternated between spreading your folds, circling your clit, dipping his finger into you just enough to tease you, then pulling back entirely. You felt like you were aching, desperate for him, needing him. Bob spread you open with one hand, and you felt his thick head at your entrance, seeking. You saw the hand that wasn’t playing with your clit drop down to the bed beside yours as he braced himself, and you pushed your hips back, weakly. 

“Ask me nicely, sweet girl,” he said, his voice so low, and you swear you nearly came on the spot. 

“Please,” you managed, your voice sounding entirely too weak, “please, please, I need to feel you–”

You broke off when he pushed into you. 

A steady, overwhelming pressure as that beautiful, enormous cock pushed into you. Your back arched and you gripped the sheets as he stretched you out, the gentle, even pressure nearly blinding. He was so thick, you felt like you could feel his heartbeat, like you’d been lit on fire, and the only thing you knew you needed was more, more. 

Your head dropped to the sheets, even as your hips worked weakly back into his, welcoming him despite the burn. 

Bob’s hand covered yours, his thick fingers tangling with yours on the bedsheets, and you felt cherished, you felt wrecked, you felt perfect. 

Fuck, he felt so good. 

You were full to the point of overwhelmed, and you realized he’d stopped pushing, was fully seated inside you. You felt so connected, so whole, even though you were heaving like you’d run a marathon. 

Bob‘s nose traced your cheek, his soft lips kissed your jaw as his breath tickled your ear. “Does that feel good, darlin?” he asked. 

You nodded, wordless, it felt like a dream come true. You felt every inch of him in you, every inch of him over you, and it was perfect.  

“So,” Bob whispered, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear, “what do you say?”

“Thank you,” you moaned, you’d never been so grateful for anything in your life. “Feels so good, fuck, thank you–”

Bob groaned, and his hips pulled back before he slammed back into you. His thrust would’ve pushed you up the bed, except for his body over yours, holding you steady.  

“Sweet girl, it’s like you don’t want this to last long,” he said, almost angry, and the sound of his voice had your eyes rolling back in your head. He sounded so good, he felt so good, he was so perfect, you were so full… “Like you’re trying to drive me mad with this tight cunt, with those sweet little whimpers, you feel so good, baby.”

You couldn’t do anything. 

You were a molten mess of heat and driving need, your body aching and craving and sated by the thick cock pressing inside of you. Bob was thrusting so deep into you, his fat cock head prodding against a spot you distantly registered wasn’t made up, but might’ve been, for how perfectly he was hitting it. You weren’t aware if you were making sounds or just lying there, all you knew was how fucking good he felt in you, how you needed him to never stop. 

“Feel so full,” you gasped, and Bob pushed into you again.  

“Damn right,” Bob muttered, his voice dark, “full of my dick, like you’re fucking meant to be. Gorgeous girl, bent over, taking my cock like you need it.”

You whimpered, clenching around him. “I do, I do,” you babbled, “need you.”

Bob moaned, and it might’ve been the prettiest sound you’d ever heard. How was he real? How could he be this good, this kind, this fucking hot??

The sounds in the room were dizzying. 

Bob’s hips slapping into your ass, the squelching sounds where you were joined, your gasps and his breathy grunts. It was perfect, and you felt the heat around you condensing in your core. 

He knew, somehow. 

The fingers that had been spreading you for his cock, moved to the top of your cunt, teasing over your clit. Your legs jerked, your mouth dropping open as Bob circled your clit, his fingers tracing over it, gently pinching it and coaxing you higher. 

“I’m gonna cum,” you panted, heat and need rising. 

“Christ, please,” Bob said, his voice so earnest, so dear, as you pushed back into him. “Let me feel it, sweet girl, let me feel this pussy I’ve been dreaming about. Want to feel you milking my cock, so damn good, you can do it, come on…” 

He pumped into you once, twice, and you shattered. Your legs gave out, shaking, and then Bob’s hands were on your waist again, holding you up. You moaned his name, trembling and lost, and he held you, ever steady. He kept working into you, his thick cock pressing into you, like he was the only thing tethering you to this pane, and you felt drunk off of him. 

“There it was, that was beautiful…fuck, you’re so hot, that feels so damn good. You sounded so gorgeous, sweet girl, you did so well…”

You moaned as his words coaxed you back. 

He was still pumping into you, that steady, punishing pace and you were so sensitive but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. He felt so strong, so hot, so close to you and you needed it. Needed him. His thick arms cording around you, his strong grip digging into your hips, his fat cock stuffing you, you never wanted it to stop. 

“You’re so good,” you whispered, needing him to know. Not just how he felt, or how he sounded, but who he was. How he was, and how much he meant. 

Bob’s hips stuttered.

You were aching, you were spent, but you tightened your core and clenched around him. 

“Baby,” he groaned, “I’m close you can’t–”

You rolled your hips. 

Bob grunted, and then he was moving, faster than lightning. He swept your hands out, pushing you down by your shoulders into the mattress, his body draping over yours. You turned your head to the side, and like he knew, he was there, kissing you. 

It was sloppy, it was messy, but your lips and tongue tangled together, like you both needed the sweetness of a kiss to balance the savage way Bob’s hips were fucking into you. 

Each press of his hips ground your pussy into the mattress and the pressure was so fucking unreal. You moaned into him, and Bob seemed drunk off the sound, off of you. You were so overstimulated, so out of your body that pleasure was the only thing that made sense. Only the way his hips rubbed your clit into the mattress, only the way his cock was stroking into the deep part of you, only the way he was panting against your lips. 

“You’re everything,” Bob whispered, just a breath away. “So much better, so much – fuck, you feel too good. Will you come for me again, sweet girl? I want to feel it so bad, need another one from you, can you do that for me?”

You shook your head, wrung out, but you felt it building anyways. Fuck, how was that possible? But Bob’s thrusts, the pressure on your clit, the weight of his warm body, the need in his eyes, it was driving you higher. 

And then. 

And then he got close. 

He broke off from the kiss, his thrusts growing almost frantic. Each breath he drew ended on a gasp, a soft whine that reached deep into your gut and set off something primal. He was fucking into you but he was whimpering, and you knew he needed it, needed you, like he said. He moaned, a needy, beautiful sound, and before you could feel his orgasm, yours broke over you. 

You collapsed into the mattress, Bob covering you, and you distantly heard him getting louder as your thighs shook. He sounded so pretty, those sweet moans and the desperate gasps driving you mad. The world was just molten heat, desperate thrusts, echoes of whimpers and you faded into the vacuity of it. 

When you came back, you were on your side. 

You were drenched in sweat, you both were, and a sheet was covering you from the cool room. Bob had taken off the condom, you noticed absently, and had pulled your sheet up over both of you, tucking you into his chest. His arms were warm around you, and when you exhaled, you watched the blond hairs on his forearms blow back and forth.  

“How’re you doing?” Bob asked softly, and you could weep. It was him, so familiar, so gentle, and so much better than any recording, any fantasy, anything. Your arm swung halfheartedly in his direction. 

“You jerk,” you sighed, “you’ve ruined my subscription.” Bob chuckled, the bed shaking with his deep laugh. “Think you can content yourself with the real thing?”

You shifted, turning to face him. In the dim light of the room, he somehow still managed to look like an angel. His soft eyes were unfocused, his mussed hair was snarled from your fingers, and he was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. 

You leaned over to kiss him, Bob’s lips already thinning on a smile. “I think I can manage,” you said.

//

tagging: @withahappyrefrain @cheekymcgrath @mxgyver @lewmagoo @sebsxphia @callsign-fangirl @callsignspark @sometimesanalice @daggerspare-standingby @rhettabbotts @teacupsandtopgun @attapullman @yuckosworld @skteaiy @yanna-banana @briseisgone @gigisimsonmars @milesmillergf @katiedid-3 @hangmandruigandmav @3tabbiesandalab @marchingicenotes7 @callsignmedusa @ryebecca @tgmavericklover @cottagecori @becks-things @sorchathered @mulletmcghee @straightforwardly @high-speed-r @rcmupout @purelyfiction @fairyheart @sunsetsimpsblog @angelbabyyy99 @cremebruleequeen @marvel-djarin @sgt-barnesveins @supernaturaldawning @echo-ethe @sunlitide @alilstressyandlotdepressy @hughesvolpe @aczhang777 @saltsicklover

chances are high i'll do a part 2/followup with both of them recording an 'overheard' audio...let me know! comments and reblogs are the surest way to make that happen 💙

[is-nini]

They're Good Girl

A Neuvillette x reader x Wriothesley

You'd always have a fun time between the oh-so-sweet ludex and the rough Duke.

Minor DNI!

Tw: pussy slapping, filthy words, slut calling, size kink, overstimulation, dumbification, pussy slapping, spanks(near the end), double penetration, breeding, manhandle. (Aftercare at the end) Word Count: 2k

The Duke and the Iudex rarely meets eachother. It makes sense. The both of them are in a different line of world. One is underwater and the other one is up above the water.. but, if anyone wanted to meet them both at the same time, they know who to look for. You.

No one know specifically what you're relationship between you and the two powerful man are but.. one thing for sure is they don't want to know.

The last time someone tries to make a story about your relationship and the two man, they ended up retired and never wanted to talk about the duke or the ludex. No one knew why but seeing that, the Fontaine people has a unspoken rule to not talk about you and your relationship.

Both Wriothesley and Neuvillette are a very private and mysterious characters to other people, but you.. you get a special treatment.

Of course you'd be special. Always listening to they're beck and call. Always ready to accept they're rambles and gossips about tea or about the new case that has been going around. Such as now.

"This case has not end yet though. After much consideration there are things that seems to be in the fog's" Neuvillette ended his observation regarding the newest case. He has never been afraid talking to you because he trusts you with his secrets. How could he not? You'll forgot about whatever he said an hour ago. Such a dumb cute girl of his is the only person he can trust.

"Are you listening darling?" He asked as he looks at your trembling and embarrassed form Infront him. "N-neuvie! Pl-please th-this is embarrassing" you whine as your legs are wide open for your dear ludex to see.

Your cute pussy clenching around nothing as you try your best to keep your legs wide open. Afterall you wanted to help Neuvillette to focus on his work.. you wanted to make sure that he is satisfied so that he can focus properly.

"Embarrassing? My dear y/n, I have already seen everything. There's no such need to be embarrassed" he said as he stands up and walk around the table to stand Infront your your small figure.

Such a beautiful sight. Your cute skirt bunch up around your waist as the both of your feet placed on top of the seat that you sat on currently. "Ne-Neuvi" you whimper out as his hand started to leaves ghost touches around your inner thighs.

Your body shiver as his gloved hand grazed your little bundle of nerves. Your body immediately jolts up, making the chair shake with your reaction. Neuvillette looks at your reaction with his sharp eyes as he slowly puts down your leg back to the ground.

"come here love" he gently picks you up princess style and laid your down on his desk. You hold yourself up with the both of your hand behind you as your feet dangle. His hand softly pushes your skirt upward, letting your very wet pussy be seen again.

Neuvillette sat down on his work chair amd goes back to focusing his attention on your parts. "No matter how much I look at it.. it's always so enticing" his finger picks up some of your essence from your wet parts and let's out a chuckle. "So wet" he whispers as he took of the gloves that he uses to touch your pussy.

You can feel your pussy throb again looking at his act which of course didn't go unnoticed as you gain a laugh from him. His deep laugh gave you goosebumps all over your body, making your nipple harden as it pokes out of your white shirt.

"do you enjoy my voice that much my dear?" He asked all the while he bend down and gives a little huff to your pussy. You squirm and squeeze your eyes shut, embarrassed and shy about the situation.

Being the gentle dom he is, Neuvillette pulls away and kisses your forehead with love. Kiss that is reassuring but gentle as he make a circle motion around the outer layer of your pussy.

Although he is definitely much more lenient to you, his patient is so so much higher, meaning that as long as his cock is not buried deep inside you, he won't stop the tease until he is satisfied.

"My, what an adorable sight" he sigh out, looking at the overflowing juice that your pussy made. Your body tremble and twitches, aching for something - anything to just insert your pussy. "N-neuvi! Pl-please please!" You beg as you slowly open your eyes to look at him with teary eye.

"Please what, love?" Neuvillette asked in a gentle tone with underlying darkness behind his voice. How could he not? He is slowly being hypnotized by you because you and him both know, after you answer his question, he would do anything for you to make your wishes come true.

Your lips tremble as you try to make a coherent sentence "N-need your c-cock-!" your sentence was cut off when another voice decided to join the fun.

"Oh? Starting the play without me?" A very familiar voice speaks out with a fake sadness underlying his voice. Your body jumps a little with surprise hearing wriothesley's voice suddenly joining in. "I assure you we have not started...yet. I was merely preparing her for us" Neuvillete speaks out first after you move your head to face the duke who is walking ever so calmly towards you.

"Then I owe you my thanks, Neuvillette" Wriothesley smirked and looked at you with a dangerous glint in his eye. He looks at your sensitive parts that are still being played with Neuvillete's fingers. You thought that he would also play with your pussy but your body shakes a little when he pinches both your perky nipple from behind.

"Ngh! Ha-" your chest puff up as if you're asking for more. One of Wriothesley's palm stroke your sensitive nipple while the other holds your waist down. Neuvillette is making himself busy as he slowly insert two of his long finger inside your pussy with much ease.

Neuvillette looks at the way your pussy eat his finger. He can feel your walls clenching around his finger. Wriothesley saw more and more of your wet part let's out more and more juice. "So wet. Such a slut" Wriothesley comment. "Wriothesley.." Neuvillette warns him almost with a growl. "Come on Neuvillette, you can feel her pussy clench on your finger can you? She likes it" Neuvillette will be lying if he said he didn't notice your pussy clench when Wriothesley degrade you like that.

"I feel no need to degrade when she can also clench the same way if you praise her." Neuvillette finger you faster and harder as he smile, looking at your trembling leg "Sweet girl, are you going to cum? yes?" oh the way you melt with his sweet words that brings you to the edge. "Would you like to cum sweet girl? go ahead, princess." One command is all it takes for you to just unknot the tie on your stomach. " Ngh! A-ahn! Neuvi- ha-" fat tears are pouring out like water.

Your juice splashes everywhere, wetting the table and the porcelain tile floor. "Ng-ngah! Neuvi-Neuvi!" You squeal out. Your pussy spasm and your chest heaves up and down. Wriothesley feeling a little bit left out so he stuck his mouth to the nape of your neck and suck on it. Your brain has slowly turning in to mush.

Neuvillette pulls his finger out slowly as the squelching noise filled the room. He looks at Wriothesley and step away from your pussy to give Wriothesley a sign that he is done prepping you, although you will never be used to they're size.

Wriothesley walked and changes place with Neuvillette. He looked at your cute pussy throbbing on nothing. He groaned and cup your pussy, smirking at you. "Such a slut. Look at your pussy begging for something to enter it" he then gave is a slap. Your body jolt's up as he slap your pussy as then he proceeded to give a couple of little slaps. Laughing at how your body react.

His open his pants, freeing the suffocating cock inside it. "Okay then princess. It's time for your reward" you almost perked up when you hear the word "reward" but before you can say anything, Wriothesley slowly insert his girthy cock inside of you slowly.

Your back arch and a sultry moan came out of you. You make grabby hand at the table, trying to catch a breath as Wriothesley fully insert it in. Neuvillette grabs your hand and kisses the back side of it. "Doing a great job baby. Doing a great job for us" he whisper while caressing your hair lovingly, contrast to Wriothesley who started to thrust hard and precise into your sloppy cunt.

"Good. Slut. Our. Little. Slutty. Girl" every word he makes sure to thrust deep into you. Your legs are wrapped as your eyes roll back.

Neuvillette pulled down his pants and slowly rub his already leaky cock. His cock is similar with Wriothesley in some ways but it is longer and just a little less girthy than Wriothesley. Doesn't mean his cock feels less better.

Wriothesley looks at Neuvillete while thrusting in to you. "Just stuffed her mouth Monsieur Neuvillette" Wriothesley said teasingly. Neuvillette grunt and slowly shook his head "I want to hear her". Wriothesley immediately took your waist with ease, pick you up in his arm while his cock is still deep inside you and bring you over towards Neuvillette.

"I'm sure she can take another cock inside her ass" you widen your eye and whine as you claw on Wriothesley's shoulder. "Hng-! Neuvi!!" You whine out. "She can be a good girl and take Neuvillette right?" Wriothesley whisper as he kisses your cheek. "N-Neuvii pplease!" You moaned out Neuvillette's name, desprate to try and be a good girl for the both of them.

Neuvillette rubs his cock on the entrance of your pussy and slowly pushes in. "F-fuck.." one of the rare times Neuvillette moan as you scream "ha-hng! Big-big-ah! Please! Oh-!" You babble out and scratching Wriothesley shoulder. Neuvillette looks at you with concern "A-Are you okay princess-fuck so tight.." Wriothesley laugh and shake his head "She's fine Neuvillette. No worries. She can take is like a good. Fucking. Girl" Wriothesley started to thrust again although it's not fast, you can feel absolutely everything.

Your ass is full, your pussy is full and your brain is full of the word 'Neuvi' 'Wrio' and 'cock'. They have fucked you dumb at this point.

Once Neuvillette started to move, oh gosh the pleasure is overwhelming. Fat tears came out, your tongue is hanging from your lips, and your eyes are rolled backwards. Beautiful sight for Wriothesley, making him thrusts harder. Neuvillette rubs your stomach and pushes it once in a while. He can feel Wriothesley cock deep inside your stomach and it bulges everytime he thrust.

"So beautiful princess.. keep going. Ngh-so so good baby..such a good baby" Neuvillette moans to your ear as he also pick up the pace.

They're tempo are similar but everytime Wriothesley pulls out, Neuvillette would make sure he fills you so that both of your holes would never be empty at the same time.

The tempo picked up fast. You can tell they're on the edge because you can feel they're cock getting bigger inside of you, ready to shoot. You whine as your leg tighten around Wriothesley. Your pussy are also clenching around them so sweetly. Wriothesley too your mouth and kisses you sloppily in the midst of the kiss.

Neuvillette rubs and pinch on your right nipple while still holding on to your stomach with his other hand. The pleasure is overwhelming as you spew out words between you kiss. "Cum! Wan-wan' cum! Ah! Pleaseplease" you babble out.

Neuvillette grunt and bite on your shoulder, leaving a mark. Wriothesley pulled away from the kiss, he wanted to ask Neuvillete if he's willing to let you cum now but looking at Neuvillette's flushed face and seemingly too deep in pleasure to talk he decided to take control. "Cum like a good slut come one" he rubs your clit, bringing you closer to release.

Your stomach tightened and you squirted out clear liquid as you scream hard. Your pussy and ass hole tightened a little, getting Neuvillette and Wriothesley closer to the edge. "F-fuk! C-comming" Neuvillette grunt as he thrust faster.

Wriothesley's pace also fastened as the both of them cum together inside your body. You squeal as you legs shakes because of the pleasure. "Ng-Ah!!! So ghood! Pleasepleaseplease! Fill me! S'good!". You scream out. You can feel both of them feeling you up so deliciously.

"F-Fuck- such a good girl- like being filled up by two cocks huh?" Wriothesley growled as his cum slowly drips down your pussy. "H-ah.. g-good girl. Sweet princess" Neuvillette moan out, he slowly rubs your stomach that has been filled to the brim with Wriothesley's cum. Neuvillette's cum also filled your asshole the heavily filled to the brim.

"Ngh-ha!" You let out little hiccup as you cry out of overstimulation. Neuvillette breath and huff up and down as he whisper sweet nothings into your ear while Wriothesley is admiring the way your cunt flutters when he pulls out. His cum flowing out of you like waterfall.

Neuvillette rubs your belly and pushes it slowly, his cum inside you ass also flowing out but it is so mesmerising. Wriothesley's kisses your cheek softly and gave your ass a one good slap, making your body jolt as your sensitive body take the hit. Neuvillette looks at him questioningly.

Wriothesley smirked "hold our cum in princess" he teasingly said, making you whine weakly. Although you're fucked out of your mind, he can see you try to tighten your pussy. Wriothesley laugh happily but Neuvillette just sigh and readjust your position as he carry you princess style to the sofa in his office.

"Wriothesley, please stop being such a tease" Wriothesley just shrug and smile at Neuvillette. "Ah, but you also enjoys it Monsieur" he teasingly said as he took a couple of tissue and walked towards you, he took care of your face, slowly wiping your tears and saliva so your face would feel better.

Neuvillette sigh as he knew what Wriothesley say is right. He took a cloth and wet it with his hydro power and proceed to clean the lower part of your body. He softly touches and wipes your over flowing pussy making your body twitch.

After the both of them makes sure you're clean, they clean up after themselves. All evidence pointing to sex has been taken care of. Wriothesley draped his coat on top of your body while Neuvillette also drape one of his many layer of clothing on top of you to make you warmer.

"Such a sweet girl. You have trained her good Monsieur Neuvillette" Wriothesley teasingly said to Neuvillette. Neuvillette smile softly as he proceeds to comfort your must be aching body. "I too, admit that you have given her a proper... Punishments".

They're eyes looks fondly at your sleeping figure. So peaceful and relaxed after such a rough session. While waiting for you to rest up, both of the man decided to have a nice and relaxed tea and water while talking about some cases. They kept they're voice low but even so, they're voice is calm and soothing as you fell deeper into slumber hearing them talk while Neuvillette stokes your hair and Wriothesley softly hold and message your thigh.

[ink-n-shadow]

listen—my brain had a thought, and I had to bring it to life🤷‍♀️ i kinda wanna make this into a text!au... (or maybe just it's own au)

[ SWIPE RIGHT ] 𝜗𝜚 the one where you swipe right a man almost 10 years older than you

𝜗𝜚 pairing: hookup!simon "ghost" riley x gn!reader 𝜗𝜚 cw: very bare bones smut (minors—DNI), age gap (reader is in early/mid 20s; simon is in mid 30s), gentle and casual sex, possessiveness (if you squint), some aftercare, some feelings caught, slightly nervous!simon

you would meet hookup!simon on a random wednesday night, mindlessly thumbing through dating apps while draining a bottle of wine by yourself. it wasn't your fault that you were bored, pent up, and fresh out of a long-term (and rather toxic) relationship. you didn't even remember how you ended up setting your age range to 30s.

hookup!simon would have like three pictures maximum—one of his rugged face, one of his toned muscles in the gym mirror, and the last one of him and his german shepard puppy. he wouldn't even have a bio, just his name, age, and that he was looking for something short-term.

hookup!simon would be surprised when you match back with him, eyes bulging out of his skull as the notification blinked across his screen. he fully expected to never see your pretty little face ever again—but there you were, sitting innocently in his messages and begging him to tell you his dog's name.

the first time you meet hookup!simon in person, he's all shaky hands and sweaty palms—despite the fact that you're sprawled out naked across his mattress not long after he led you up to his apartment—muttering a breathless “i don’t do this often” under his breath as his calloused fingers crawl down your thighs.

hookup!simon would be so juxtaposedly gentle, soft caresses and breathless kisses smeared against your skin as he gently sinks his leaking cock into your prepped hole. his harsh and rough exterior doesn’t match the way he treats you like porcelain, careful not to break you in two as he split you open on his length.

you didn’t expect the way hookup!simon treated you after—turning on the shower and letting it get warm enough for you to slink into, putting your sticky underwear and pants into the laundry while you showered, making sure a cold glass of water was on the bedside table before you lumber back into the bedroom.

hookup!simon would offer to drive you home once you were out of the shower and your clothes were dry, insisting that you didn’t have to stay if you didn’t want to (but he really wouldn’t mind if you did). his eyes nearly pop out of his skull when you say you wouldn’t mind spending the night.

spending the night leads to you and hookup!simon talking for hours, your body sandwiched between his and his german shepard puppy (“his name’s riley—i know, s'not very original”) as you both ramble on about your incredibly different lives.

hookup!simon only takes you home after fucking you into his king-sized mattress one more time, intentionally (and rather possessively) littering your chest with hickeys and imprints of his crooked teeth in hopes of driving away your other hookups.

hookup!simon almost forgets about you and the night you both shared as two weeks (and another deployment) pass. it isn’t until he comes back to his flat and gets a random tinder notification, seeing your name illuminating his phone, that he becomes enamored all over again.

bonus: hookup!simon has a thing for being the best fuck you’ve ever had—the ego boost he gets from hearing you talk about how well he fucked you and how much you missed it >>>

[star-suh]

BasketBALLS

Kim Mingyu x Male Reader

cw: top mingyu, praise kink, protected sex, body worship, friends with benefits, pet names, some fluff sprinkled at the end, a bit of size kink, unrealistic amounts of cum lol, rimjob.

—

through the semesters he studied in the university, mingyu has stood out as one of the best basketball players. he dominates the ball completely and is a good leader who listens to his teammates, which has helped them achieve victory on many occasions. that, in addition to his good physique and cold personality, makes many people admire him and aspire to be like him some day. however, when he is with yn, his best friend, he changes completely. goes from being a big fierce wolf to an adorable little puppy.

their relationship went quickly from friends to friends with benefits when they found out they share some things in common.. and that they're both horny bitches who shared a dorm.

in the rehearsals mingyu’s eyes were glued towards yn while playing with the ball trying to get his attention, “how was that, you like it” he asks yn with so much joy on him that the other can almost see little stars glowing on his eyes and around his face, “yes you were perfect gyu.. like you always are” yn pets his head and cheeks “you're so handsome” he later adds.

the basketball game continued, at the end mingyu's team won as expected, "hey mingyu, let's go celebrate" said one of his teammates, "umm well it's that... i'm feeling very tired… so you guys can go without me"; "okay captain but if you want to join us later we will be at the same bar as always" mingyu nods and then turns around and looks for yn, his eyes showed that he is hungry for pleasure, the excitement of the game going straight towards his cock, thank god his underwear was able to hide his erection well. both made eye contact, with just doing that yn knew what mingyu wanted and he willingly would give him that.

“fuck, you always hit the right spots” yn said in between moans and pants, “of course i havw to please my baby” he keeps on thrusting, the mixture of the condom's texture, his hips movements and the almost slow thrusts makes yn go crazy, mingyu definitely knows how to use his dick.

yn's hands went up and down mingyu's body, tracing every bulging muscle of his big arms, caressing his big chest and toned abs. “you're like a greek god gyu~ look at this amazing body.. a pretty boy with a pretty body”. yn lift himself up with his arms and started kissing the other's collarbones and chest, whispering sweet nothings to his ear, things like “sexy boy”; “you're being such a good boy for me”; “you look so hot all sweaty while playing basketball” turn mingyu on and tn knows it because he can feel his dick throbbing and growing inside him.

“am i being a good boy for ynnie?” mi gyu pouts while showering the other's neck with kisses and hickeys, “yes you are.. you know how to make me feel good.. you're amazing gyu.. i'm so proud of you~”.

mingyu lay down while yn took off the condom and began to masturbate him, "come on, mingyu, flex those arms for me" the bigger one obeyed. yn began to kiss each muscle. his tongue went from his armpit to his hand, tracing each vein with it, “you taste so good, i can't get enough of you” he said in almost a whisper tone “and you make me feel so good” mingyu added and the both kissed. some oiled were poured on gyu's body, yn straddle him and started massaging his torso “i love these tits, so fucking huge” he said while playing with them,groping them, slapping it gently, make them jiggle using his fingers or cuping them both with both his hands. he also pinches the nipples and occasionally kiss them or bite them.

moving onto his arms and abs he just again traced then with his fingers and gave them a quick massage. moving now to the legs yn grabbed each thigh and kissed them “i wish one day you crush my head with these” yn jokes. “not gonna lie that would be pretty hot, watching you squirm between my thighs” mingyu commented and seeing how close yn's ass was against his mouth he just started to suck it.

“now let's resume where we were before” yn slides down a condom with his mouth down mingyu's shaft and ride him. mingyu guided his ass using his big hands “this sloppy ass knows how to take dick so well”.

“you trained it so well” yn replies “fuck, i'm cumming” white sticky ropes were shooted on mingyu's bed sheets while the top came inside the condom still insidd yn moaning and grunting loudly like an animal. fucking with yn was one of the things mingyu enjoyed the most it was sensual and sexual, an undescribable pleasure that only them can give to each other.

mingyu struggle to pulled it out, it seems that he came a lot and the condom got stuck. and as ifni it was some kind of anal beads mingyu pulled it out slowly wanting to see his hole opening and closing with the cum-filled condom.

“so hot” mingyu says kissing one of yn's ass cheeks, let's take a shower.

in the shower they both rubbed and scrubbed each other's bodies, applied shampoo and soap as if they were a couple. “you know i've been thinking something” yn says with some concern in his voice, “what is it?” mingyu asks. “i just.. don't want to ruin the moment gyu…”; “just tell me ynnie it's ok”. “i-i think i'm in … love with you gyu” yn hides his face, tears threatening to roll down his eyes, he was getting ready to be rejected but instead he felt a pair of hands cupping his cheeks and a sweet, delicate kiss meeting his lips, “i love you too, i was planning to tell you later but you got ahead” he laughs showing that pretty smile, “come here give me a kiss”.

yn and mingyu kissed and hugged celebrating their new relationship, one must say they're probably the happiest people on earth right now.

[imaginespazzi]

Part 7: In All My Victories

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 8 - Part 9

Somebody said you got a new friend (But does she love you better than I can?)

(In which a writer in an EST timezone uses the PST timezone to announce that technically she's still meeting the deadline)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Fluff, Jealousy

Words: 6.5K

TW: Swearing, Toxic Relationships

A/N: Hello my lovelies! Listen it's past midnight here but it's only around 9 pm in California which is where most of this fic is set so TECHNICALLY I am still meeting my deadline. This chapter is kind of a filler (and I guess that's why I don't love it) because it was gonna be about ~3K longer with another scene but it was either a longer chapter or a Monday chapter and I feel like y'all would prefer a Monday chapter. I have not edited this yet because I simply just don't have the energy to so pretty please point out my errors as you read so I can use them when I edit some time tomorrow. There's probably other stuff I need to say but I'm feeling oddly delirious right now so I'll just end with the usual. Let me know what you liked, what you disliked and what you'd like to see next. Have a lovely rest of your week my loves <3

March 2033

Paige wakes up to a stream of sunlight tapping at her eyelids and someone’s soft breath tickling against her nose. She can feel a tiny hand pressed against her chest -right above her heart- and the weight of another person’s fingers intertwined against her own. The room is silent with the exception of the clock ticking on the wall and the perfectly harmonized breathing of the other people in the room. Stephie and Azzi. And Paige is scared to open her eyes, scared to move even an inch, scared that if she does either of those things, her dreamlike reality will prove to be nothing but a hopeless mirage. 

It had taken Paige a moment last night to really register what was happening around her. Dazedly, she had followed Azzi up the stairs into the guest room. She’d watched, albeit unhelpfully, as Azzi had searched out extra pillows, setting up the queen-sized bed so it could fit three people instead of it’s regular duo. It hadn’t sunk in even as Paige had slowly gotten herself ready for bed, finding herself in one of Azzi’s old oversized t-shirts suddenly overwhelmed with how much she’d missed falling asleep embraced in the scent of the younger woman’s favorite lavender and eucalyptus deodorant. Even as she’d made her way back from the bathroom and found Stephie beaming at her from where she was curled into Azzi’s side on bed, Paige still felt like she was simply just watching everything from a facetime call, like she had been while back in Dallas. It wasn’t until Stephie’s bedtime story was finished and the lights were turned off, when Azzi’s hand finally captured hers underneath the comforter and squeezed gently, that it finally clicked for Paige. 

Azzi had asked her to stay over.

Azzi had promised she wouldn’t run away. 

And as Paige finally lets eyes flutter open, blinking to adjust to the light, she breathes out a sigh of relief at the sight of a promise kept. 

Propping herself onto her elbow, she lets herself take in the view of the two people still sound asleep next to her. Paige isn’t a morning person by any means -rarely is she the first person to wake up- but she thinks if this was what she could open her eyes to every time, getting up could become her favorite part of the day. 

It’s uncanny how similar Azzi and Stephie are while sleeping. The little girl’s grip on Paige’s shirt is almost as strong as the tight hold her mother has on Paige’s hand. It’s like they’re trying to reel Paige into their world and keep her there forever, like even if she let go, they wouldn’t let her. There’s an air of contentedness on Azzi’s face as she snuggles closer to her daughter and Stephie has a soft smile at being cocooned in the protection of her mother’s arms. And Paige’s whole body aches a little bit because this bed they’re on is definitely not made for three people, but it’s nothing in comparison to the way her heart feels like it might burst from this feeling of and maybe this is how i become whole again. 

She presses a kiss against Stephie’s forehead and rubs her thumb against the back of Azzi’s hand before carefully detaching herself from the duo and slipping out of bed. The whole house is still clearly asleep as Paige lethargically brushes and then begins to make her way down the stairs. Her eyes gloss over the pictures placed across the stairwell until they fixate on one that has her in it. It’s an image taken after one of many water fights they’d had at the Fudd household during a hot summer day. Life had been so simple back then when it was water and not bullets that they shot at each other. 

Five drenched children are beaming at the camera. Jon and José are posed in some ridiculous stance, their water guns pointed at the camera. Paige, par for the course, is flexing, a far too cocky smirk dancing on her lips because she’d probably won the game (even if nobody else agreed). And then there’s Drew and Azzi. There’s a familiar pang in Paige’s chest as she brushes her fingers over her little brother’s exuberant smile. He’s latched onto the brunette’s back, a blue water balloon in his hand, as Azzi uses one hand on his hip to keep Drew in place and uses her other one to hold a pink water balloon of her own. The Fudds -Azzi- had been as big of a constant in Drew’s life as they had been in Paige’s and she wonders now, as she thinks back to her little brother’s irritation with her joining the Valkyries, if he’d ever forgive her and Azzi for taking that away from him. 

“Oh hey good morning,” Tallulah says as Paige lets herself into the kitchen, blanching slightly at the sight of the other woman. 

“Good morning,” Paige greets, pouring herself a glass of water as she takes a seat at the island, “guessing you’re making pancakes?”

Tallulah nods with a grin, “Stephie’s orders you know.”

“Ah of course,” Paige laughs, “can’t defy the queen.”

She watches as Tallulah prances around the hardwood floor, grabbing bowls and ingredients, like it’s her kitchen and Paige can’t help the twinge of envy that blooms in her bloodstream. It used to be her. She used to know the Fudd’s kitchen -the whole house- like the back of her hand because really, like Katie always said, it was her home too. But she doesn’t quite know this place, couldn’t tell you where to find the sugar or where the utensils were kept and that stings more than she’d expected. It spirals Paige into the thought that she wouldn’t know any of those things at Azzi’s own house either. And suddenly she’s struck by the reminder that two people who’d once promised to build a world together, had spent the last couple of years, building two separate ones instead. 

“Hey,” Tallulah breaks Paige out of her trance, “you good.”

Paige musters up a smile, “yeah- yeah of course. Just- just thinking a lotta things I guess.”

“They’ve all missed you, you know,” Tallulah says softly, “they try not to do it too much around Azzi but it’s always ‘oh Paige would’ve loved this’ or ‘did you catch that bucket Paige made last night’. And whenever the Wings were playing here, it was a no-brainer that they would go.”

“Yeah?” tears prickle against the blonde’s waterline. 

“Yeah,” Tallulah confirms, “Tim lowkey lost his mind before you got here last night. Poor man was running all over the place making sure things were good. Katie thought it was pretty hilarious.”

Paige lets out a watery laugh, “that sounds like them-”

“Miss Buecks,” a tiny voice interrupts her before she can say anything and Paige whirls around to see a teary-eyed Stephie looking at her from the last step of the staircase, her bottom lip trembling and panic courses into Paige’s bloodstream

“Stephie,” she practically trips over herself as she rushes to fold the little girl into her arms, “sweetheart what’s wrong?”

Stephie nestles herself into the blonde’s neck, mumbling something incoherent as she holds Paige impossibly tight. 

“Stephie,” Paige whispers frantically, concern dripping from her voice, “tell Miss Buecks what’s wrong please. I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me sweetheart.”

“Thought you left,” Stephie confesses finally, keeping her head burrowed against Paige’s shoulder, “you weren’t next to me when I woke up. Got scared.”

“Oh honey,” Paige whispers, as she gently coaxes the little girl’s head out from the crook of her neck so she can cup her face, “I’m right here. I wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye.”

Stephie’s quiet for a second, hiccoughing to herself as she searches for something on Paige’s face before she holds out a pinky, “promise you’ll never leave?” 

Paige hesitates, the words sitting heavy on the tip of her tongue. It’s not that she doesn’t want to but Paige has learned first-hand about the fragility of the future, about how true the cliché about time changing in the blink of an eye can be. Because the truth is that it’s not just Azzi who’s scared. Paige is terrified. She’d drowned in this ocean once before and as she tries to swim in it again, she can’t quite find it in herself to shed her life-jacket by making an oath that she can’t guarantee to protect from the dangerous tides of circumstance.

And so she hopes it’s enough for Stephie as she caresses the little girl’s cheeks and says, “I promise I’ll try to stay.”

“Okay,” Stephie says softly and Paige lets out a sigh of relief, “I trust you Miss Buecks.”

Paige smiles, giving the little girl a kiss on the cheek before hoisting her up onto her lap, “did you wake your Mama up?”

“No. She’s still snoring,” Stephie giggles. 

Paige laughs, tucking that little tidbit away to tease Azzi with later, “how about you and I go get your Mama her favorite coffee?”

“Oh that’s nice,” Tallulah chirps from where she’s still standing in the kitchen, “go get coffee of course. Why would anyone stay here and help me?”

“Go ask uncle José,” Stephie shoots the younger woman an unamused look, “isn’t that what husbands are for?”

Paige stifles a grin as Tallulah narrows her eyes, waving her whisk menacingly at Stephie, “he’s not my husband yet and you watch it missy or maybe I won’t let you be a flower girl at the wedding.”

“Your wedding would be boring without me,” Stephie scoffs, “besides Aunty Tully, we’ll get you a drink too. Uncle José always says you drink vod-ka, too much of it app-ently, but I don’t know what that is,” she turns to Paige who’s gone bright red in attempt to stop herself from keeling over with laughter, “can we get vod-ka for Aunty Tully?”

Paige tries her best to compose herself, “maybe we’ll just get her a latte and save the vodka for later huh Tulls?”

Tallulah glares at her, flipping her off when Stephie’s gaze shifts towards the door, “just go get the coffee Bueckers.”

***

Not that she didn’t know it before, but Paige quickly realizes just how similar Stephie is to her mother while they’re standing in front of the bakery portion of the coffeeshop and it’s been ten minutes and Stephie still hasn’t decided which sweet treat she’d like. 

 “Stephie sweetheart,” Paige says, only slightly impatient, “how about the double fudge brownie?”

“That sounds good,” Stephie says excitedly and then her eyes dart towards the cinnamon bun in the corner, “or maybe the ninnamon bun- no wait- Aunty Tully’s gonna put ninnamon in the pancakes so maybe something else. Ooooh maybe a cookie but which one?”

Paige groans to herself as Stephie busies herself looking at the assortment of freshly baked cookies. The old woman over the counter, wearing a name tag saying Ruthie, shares a commiserating smile with her. 

“My daughter was like that too at that age. Couldn’t make a decision to save her life,” Ruthie says, a fond look in her eyes while talking about her child. 

Paige smiles, “did she ever grow out of it?”

“Well considering we went out to dinner last night and she couldn’t pick between the pepperoni and the sausage, I don’t think they really grow out of it,” Ruthie winks and Paige can’t help but think about Azzi and the way she’d struggled to pick out what to wear to bed last night, staring helplessly between two shirts that practically looked the same. 

“Oh I know that look,” Ruthie says, eyes twinkling at the hopeless smile on Paige’s face, as she tilts her head towards Stephie, “you’re thinking about her mother huh?”

“That obvious?” Paige blushes. 

Ruthie shrugs, “what is love if it can’t be seen by everyone?”

Love. The word seeps into Paige’s veins, traveling up her bloodstreams until it claws its way into her heart, settling against her ribcage like a rock so that when she breathes, it’s all she can feel. It’s too soon, she knows, and it defeats the purpose of going slow except- it’s not soon at all. Because this isn’t a new feeling, it’s a far too familiar old one that she’d buried as deep within her as possible but is now yearning to get out. It had never gone away, simply lingered in the back of her mind just waiting for this moment. And if she’s honest with herself, Paige doesn’t know if she should fight against it or let herself ride the waves of the before that are desperate to crash against the shore of now. 

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie whines, “come help me choose.”

Shooting Ruthie an apologetic look and ignoring the pit in her stomach at the elder woman’s words, Paige walks over and bends down to the little girl’s height, “how about a chocolate chip cookie?”

“Boooooring,” Stephie crinkles her nose. 

“Peanut butter?”

“I’m ‘lergic to nuts Miss Buecks,” Stephie says matter-of-factly and Paige pencils that important fact into her mind’s ever growing list of all about Stephie.

“Salted caramel crunch?” 

“That sounds good,” Stephie nods, “yeah I’ll get that,” she says as she turns to Ruthie, “could I get a salted car-mel crunch cookie please?” but Paige doesn’t miss the wistful look she sends towards the rest of the cookies. 

“Stephie?”

“Yes?”

“Do you want me to get you one of each?”

And she’s absolutely going to get a disapproving glare from Azzi when she shows back up at the Fudd’s with almost a dozen cookies in hand but it’s worth it for the way Stephie immediately latches onto her thigh, a dazzling smile lighting up her whole face. 

“You’re best-est-est-est Miss Buecks,” Stephie squeals, staring up at Paige with delight. 

“I know,” Paige smirks, “and you better protect me from your Mama when we get back.”

Stephie nods very seriously, “of course Miss Buecks. I’ll protect you with my life.”

Paige ruffles the younger girl's hair before turning to Ruthie who’s grinning at her, “one of every flavor of cookie you have please. Except anything that has nuts.”

“Coming right up,” Ruthie winks at Paige, “your daughter has you wrapped around her little finger huh?”

And maybe Paige should at least attempt to correct the misconception but as Stephie clings to her just a little bit tighter, she can’t find it in herself to say anything but, “yeah, yeah she does.”

***

“Next time you kidnap my daughter, can you at least send me a text?” Azzi says, a grin on her lips as she opens the door to let Paige and Stephie enter back into the Fudd household. 

“Good morning Mama,” Stephie says happily, launching herself into her mother’s arms and placing a sloppy kiss against her cheek. 

“Morning sunshine,” Azzi laughs, “you seem giddy this morning.”

“Miss Buecks bought me six-teen cookies and she let me eat two of them while we were dri-” Stephie pauses mid ramble, eyes widening as she dramatically slaps a hand over her mouth. 

Paige groans as a glare overtakes Azzi’s previously smiling features, “Steph what happened to protecting me?”

“It was an aksy-dent Miss Buecks I’m sorry,” Stephie whimpers, hurriedly cupping her mother’s face, “please don’t be angry at Miss Buecks, Mama. It was my idea.”

Azzi rolls her eyes, “I bet it was. But if you already had two cookies, you must be full? I guess that means no pancakes for you-”

“Miss Buecks forced me to eat the cookies,” Stephie cuts her off and Paige gasps at the betrayal, “not full at all Mama because you can’t get full unless you like what you eat and I didn’t like those cookies at all. So I neeeeeeed pancakes.”

“Traitor,” Paige hisses at the little girl who shrugs sheepishly. 

Stephie shoots her an apologetic smile as Azzi hides a grin against her daughter’s hair, “I’m sorry Miss Buecks but I really, really want pancakes. I’ll die if I don’t get pancakes.”

“Okay drama queen,” Azzi chides fondly as she puts Stephie back on the ground, “go get your pancakes,” and then she rounds onto Paige with a patented glare. 

“I got you an iced vanilla latte with extra whipped cream,” Paige says before the younger woman can say anything, practically shoving the cold drink into her hand. 

“Sixteen cookies? Paige seriously?” Azzi asks, eyebrows raised as she sips at her coffee. 

“You didn’t see her Az,” Paige defends, “she looked so sad when she couldn’t decide.”

“Just because she looks sad doesn’t mean you buy her every single cookie to make her happy,” Azzi shakes her head exasperatedly. 

“I’d buy her the whole shop if that’s what would make her happy,” Paige says, sincerity weaved throughout every word of the sentence. 

“You would, wouldn’t you?” Azzi says softly, a hint of awe in her voice, “you’re kind of a sap Paige Bueckers.”

“Only for you and your daughter Azzi Fudd,” Paige whispers, leaning her head against the younger woman’s temple, “only for the two of you.”

They stand there like that, barely touching beyond their foreheads, yet basking in a certain kind of intimacy that they’ve only ever found with each other. The thing is, Paige’s senses are always heightened, every part of her always alert of what’s going around her. Except when she’s with Azzi. When she’s with Azzi she can let the noise fade to the background and let everything else become a blur and simply just be with Azzi. When she’s with Azzi, she doesn’t have to worry; doesn’t have to have her sword out ready for battle because she knows the younger girl will always be her shield. When she’s with Azzi, Paige is safe. 

They’re shaken from their reverie by a cough in the background and Paige reluctantly looks over her shoulder to see Jana regarding them with an amused look. 

“Guess I missed a couple of chapters?” 

“Shut up,” Paige grinds out, annoyed as Azzi moves out of her space, “what are you doing here so early El-Alfy?”

“I’m here for breakfast because I’m basically an honorary Fudd,” Jana throws her head back before yelling, “RIGHT KATIE?’

“Right Jana,” comes the muffled confirmation from the kitchen as Jana smirks at Paige. 

“The better question Bueckers,” the Egyptian prods with a smirk, “is what are you doing here so early?”

“I slept ov-” Paige bites her tongue but it’s too late as Jana’s grin gets wider and next to her, Azzi lets her head drop into her hands. 

“You slept over? In which room?” Jana asks innocently. 

And of course Stephie chooses exactly that moment to catch wind of the conversation, yelling from the kitchen, “she slept with me and Mama, Aunty J.”

“Thank you for telling me Stephie,” Jana’s eyes twinkle with mirth as she pulls out her phone, “oh I’m about to make some money- hey!”

Azzi snatches the phone out of her younger teammate’s hand, a sweet smile playing on her lips as she starts walking towards the kitchen, “no phones at breakfast thank you!”

“That’s not fair,” Jana whines sauntering after the GSV shooting guard, Paige snickering as she follows the two of them into the kitchen. 

“Life’s not fair. Deal with it,” Azzi glares before slipping Jana’s phone into her own pocket, “you can have it back before you leave.”

“Y’all are so mean,” Jana sulks, pouting harder when she reaches out to grab a pancake and immediately has her hand whacked by Tim.

“That one’s for Paige,” the older man warns sternly and Paige sticks her tongue out at her teammate as she grabs the pancake onto her place. 

“WHAT?” Jana guffaws, “what’s so special about it?”

Tim shrugs, “absolutely nothing. Just thought it would be funny to see you annoyed.”

“Y’all are the worst adoptive family a player could have you know that?” Jana scolds, pressing her fists to her cheeks like she’s barely older than Stephie, “and to think I was gonna invite the two of you,” she glares at Paige and Azzi, “to a party.”

“Party? Can I come?” Stephie asks excitedly. 

“Unfortunately this one’s just for adults kiddo. And it’s not really a party,” Jana explains, “me and Joyce thought it would be nice to do a little team-bonding, especially for you P. Drinks at the bar next weekend?”

“Sounds good,” Paige confirms, “we’ll be there!”

“Oh it’s ‘we’ now is it?” Jana teases, “you guys gonna come together?”

“No,” Azzi says at the same time as a profound “yes” leaves Paige’s mouth. The two of them stare at each other with questioning looks and Paige feels a heavy pit settling in her stomach. Rationally, she knows Azzi’s probably right. No part of going slow includes going to a party with their teammates together, especially not when they’re trying to keep whatever it is they’re doing on the down low. But there’s something about being a secret again, that raises a bitter taste of what killed us then could kill us now in her mouth. 

“Awkward,” Jon whistles slowly, only to be met with a simultaneous slap on the back of his head from both his mother and Tallulah. 

“I mean- I would have to drop Stephie off here- or umm- at Colleen's so like- logically- practically- uh- it um- it wouldn’t make sense for us to go together,” Azzi says and Paige has to refrain herself from calling it a bullshit explanation. 

Instead she gives the younger girl a tight-lipped nod, “right yeah-wouldn’t make sense for us to go together. Obviously,” gritting her teeth and desperate to change the topic, she turns to Jana, “will the whole team be there?”

“A couple of them aren’t currently in the Bay but yeah most of them,” Jana shrugs. 

“Oh,” Stephie claps excitedly, “will Aunty Chérie be there? Is she back yet?”

Paige narrows her eyes as both Jana and Azzi exchange looks, “who’s Aunty Chérie?”

“Aunty Chérie’s the best,” Stephie gushes, “she’s really nice and pretty and she calls me ‘mon chérie’,” the little girl does her best attempt at a vaguely french accent and realization starts to claw at Paige’s mind, “so I call her Aunty Chérie. She’s Mama’s best friend on the team.”

Paige tries and fails not to grimace at the sentence; the idea of anyone else being Azzi’s best friend feels like nails being screwed into her skin. 

“I’m your Mama’s best friend on the team,” Jana butts in, trying to rescue Azzi from the hole her daughter’s about to dig her into, glancing worriedly between the two former huskies who are doing their best not to look at each other. 

“If you say so Aunty J,” Stephie concedes, “but you didn’t answer my question. Is Aunty Chérie back?”

“Yeah she- um Clémence I mean- is coming back for a little bit next week so um-” Jana swallows, clearly not having thought the uncomfortableness of the situation through, “yeah she’ll uh- she’ll probably be there.”

Stephie lets out a whoop of excitement and Paige feels it burn a hole in her stomach. She knows she has no right to be upset at the idea of Stephie being as enamored by another one of Azzi’s teammates but something about it makes her feel queasy inside. Because Clémence Martens isn’t just a teammate. Paige doesn’t know the exact history there; she’d never had the right to ask about it but she’s seen the way Clémence looks at Azzi and she knows she doesn’t like it one bit.

“I thought Clémence was being traded to Atlanta?” Paige keeps her voice low as she leans into Jana. She’s not sure if Stephie knows the news yet and despite the jealousy that’s blooming in every crevice of her body, she doesn’t want to hurt the little girl by accidentally announcing it to her, “why’s she coming?”

Jana sighs, “Joyce invited her cause she was gonna be in town. You know they don’t know about-” the taller woman gestures between Paige and Azzi, “-all of this so. It’s just for one night Paige.”

“Right,” Paige nods, eyes locking with Azzi’s across the table as the younger woman fidgets with the ‘S’ necklace around her neck and shoots Paige a timid attempt at a reassuring smile, “just one night.”

***

August 2028

USA 68         France 64

The entire arena is abuzz for the final 20 seconds of a grueling semi-final match between the storied USA Women’s Basketball team trying to keep their dynasty alive and a vindictive French team eager to avenge their last heartbreaking Olympic loss. France has possession of the ball, shot clock turned off, and Paige has been tasked with guarding Clémence Martens. The woman in front of her, a bench player for the Golden State Valkyries,  had never seemed like much of a threat to Paige when they’d met during the W season, but seemed to have become a whole other beast when representing her nation. Clémence is currently leading the French team in assists and is only behind Gabby William in points. Paige keeps herself glued to the woman as she tries to get herself free for the inbound. 

The inbounder realizes after a couple of seconds that the French coach’s advice to get Clémence the ball wouldn’t be possible and instead the ball ends up in the hands of Iliana Rupert instead. As gameplay resumes, Paige does exactly as she’s supposed to and she can tell that she’s getting under the French woman’s skin as Clémence curses to herself in her native language. Paige bites back a smirk, secretly pleased at having riled her competitor up. The ball continues to pass around the French players, time ticking away, but the USA’s defense doesn’t allow a good shot until Gabby throws up a miraculous jumper with a second left on the shot clock. 

And of course, in a way that’s perhaps too reminiscent of how France had lost in 2024, it goes in. 

But it’s not enough and Paige feels blood rush to her ears as the entire arena, decked out in red white and blue, roars with triumph, celebrating the world's greatest team returning back to the finals stage. There’s still one more game but this win is special. They’d been down by 11 points at the half and Paige could almost picture the headlines ready to write themselves about the streaks that could be broken if they lost. But she was no stranger to the pressure that came from playing for a team with a deep history and it had been her and Stewie, partially motivated by their former college head coach frowning at them from the sidelines, that had spear-headed a 23-3 run at the beginning of the 3rd quarter. The USA women’s team hadn’t looked back since and now they were one more step away being golden again. 

“You did it,” Olivia screams, running into Paige’s arms as friends and family start to gather on the court, “I’m so proud of you!”

“Thanks Olivia-” Paige is about to say more when the familiar back of someone’s head catches her attention and, like they always seem to when she’s around, all the words die on the tip of her tongue. 

Azzi. 

Paige could’ve sworn she’d seen the woman in the crowd at some point but she’d chalked it up to a trick of the light manipulating her eyes into seeing what her heart desperately wanted. But as she watches the woman she’d once imagined celebrating all of her victories with, slowly brush away the tears of someone else’s loss, Paige can’t help but wish that it had been a trick of the light after all. She feels suffocated and she can’t tell if it’s from how tight Olivia’s holding her or if it’s because Clémence is burying her head into the space between Azzi’s neck and shoulder, a space that Paige used to mark as hers. And then Azzi looks above Clémence’s shoulder. Dark brown eyes shimmer with unshed tears as they lock onto watery sky blue ones. They’re standing in other people’s arms and they really should look away but how can they when looking into each other’s eyes feels a little bit like finally coming up for air. And Paige realizes that what she’s really being suffocated by is the regret of you’re supposed to be holding me and i’m supposed to be holding you; it was meant to be us. 

Azzi lets go of Clémence first, soothingly rubbing the francophone’s back as she makes her way over to congratulate the USA team, starting with Cam and Aliyah. Paige pulls away from Olivia, oblivious to the way annoyance flits across her wife’s features as she catches sight of Azzi. No one but the blonde notices how hesitant Azzi’s steps are, how she carefully pauses a little longer than necessary with everyone else until she finally reaches Paige, managing to give her a small but sincere smile. Olivia wraps a possessive hand around Paige’s bicep and the blonde fights the urge to shake it off when she notices Azzi’s eyes flickering to it for a brief second before coming back up to her face. 

“Congratulations Paige,” the formality in Azzi’s voice feels like acid pelting against Paige’s skin, “you were really good tonight.”

“Thank you,” Paige smiles politely, “it was pretty stressful there for a second but I’m glad we got the dub. But it um-” she hesitates, unsure if she should say the next part, “it would’ve been nice if you were out there with me- with us I mean. We could’ve used your shooting.”

“Maybe next time,” Azzi gives her a half-grin. 

“Oh I don’t know about that,” Olivia says airily, sharp nails digging a little too roughly into Paige’s skin as her grip tightens further, “there’s plenty of talent up and coming in the next 4 years.”

This is a side of Olivia that Paige is only just beginning to unveil, the side of Olivia that makes snide bitchy comments with a saccharine voice. And Paige really should let it go at this moment, make a mental note to speak with her wife about it later instead of jumping in. But she can see the insecurities brimming in Azzi’s eyes and the words tumble out before Paige can stop them. 

“Yeah but no one better than Azzi.”

Olivia stiffens, “right unless she’s injured or pregnant or something. You’re prone to those right?”

“Olivia,” Paige hisses. 

“I didn’t mean it offensively,” Olivia feigns innocence and a bitter mix of irritation and anger coils itself around Paige’s ribcage, “just something to think about.”

Azzi’s quiet for a second before a sugary smile, laced with poison, inches itself onto her face, “I’ve only been pregnant once and I haven’t been injured since college which I would expect someone in sports media to know but,” the brunette’s eyes flash dangerously, “I suppose that’s something someone with national media credentials would know, not just a mere local beat writer for Dallas’s fifth most read newspaper,” Azzi turns to Paige, sarcasm morphing into something far more genuine, “congratulations again. I’m really happy for you Paige.”

***

The Reynolds-Bueckers hotel room is a pathetic hot mess that night. Olivia’s livid at Paige and Paige is livid at the stupid #Clézzi tag on tiktok. She’s no stranger to fan edits and she’s definitely no stranger to ship edits and so when the first tiktok appears on her for you page, she knows better than to click on it. She knows better but she does it anyway. And suddenly she finds herself sucked into montage after montage of so-called moments between Clémence and Azzi that fans had noticed and documented. The clips are bad enough themselves but it’s the captions, bold declarations of look at the way she looks at her; no one can love azzi the way clémence loves her, that really piss her off. Clémence might look at Azzi like she’s made of stars but Paige knows that she looks at Azzi like she is the moon, Paige’s moon. As Olivia’s anger bounces off the walls, her rant about disrespect starts to mesh with the audio of the edits that continue to play on the blonde’s phone and Paige wonders if this her God-designed personal hell. 

“Are you even fucking listening to me Paige?” Olivia yells, forcing Paige to look up at her wife. 

“What do you want me to say Olivia?” Paige asks tiredly. 

“What do I want you to say? Well nothing now Paige. She said all of that shit to me and you were silent then so I’m not expecting you to say anything of meaning now either.”

“You’re the one who poked her first-”

“Jesus fucking christ,” Olivia laughs maniacally, “you’re really gonna do this?”

“I’m not doing anything,” Paige protests. 

“You’re defending her,” Olivia yells, “you’re my wife and you’re defending her. You’re defending your ex. Can you seriously not see what’s wrong with this picture.”

“Olivia,” Paige sighs, eyes gazing down at her phone where another fuckass Clézzi edit has started to play and she rapidly scrolls past it, “it’s been a long day and I just wanna go to bed. I have practice tomorrow and the gold medal game-”

“Right fucking basketball. Again,” Olivia rolls her eyes. 

“What-”

“It’s fine,” Olivia pinches the bridge of her nose, the fight draining from her voice, “you’re right go to bed. I’m not- I’m not feeling great so I’ll sleep out here tonight. Wouldn’t- wouldn’t want you to get sick before the gold medal game.”

“Olivia,” Paige says half-heartedly, taking a timid step towards the woman in front of her.

“It’s fine,” Olivia says, “just- just go to bed Paige.”

Paige knows that the last thing she should do is actually listen to her wife. And she knows that if it was Azzi -she hates herself for even thinking this way- she wouldn’t walk away. If it was Azzi, Paige would’ve pulled her into her arms, held her there and made her talk because they both hated going to bed angry. But well if it was Azzi, this whole situation wouldn’t exist in the first place. 

And so she ends up in bed alone, still scrolling through random tiktoks in an effort to not have to deal with all the voices in her head, until suddenly she stumbles on a video captioned and at the end of the day she’ll still always be looking at her. It’s a video taken today. Paige is holding Olivia and Azzi’s holding Clémence but they’re staring at each other. And Paige thinks that whoever wrote the caption, had probably gotten it right. At the end of day, she’ll always look for Azzi. She just doesn’t know if she’ll find her ever again. 

***

USA 102         Australia 73 

Paige can already taste the feeling of a gold medal around her neck as she takes a seat, the crowd roaring with applause as Coach Lawson empties her bench. There’s only fifteen seconds left in the game and her knees are bouncing in anticipation, ready to celebrate a moment she’s been dreaming of for god knows how long. Paige scans the crowd, not even pretending to look for anyone but Azzi and she can’t help the smile that erupts on her face when she spots the brunette with her fingers crossed, a brilliant grin directed in Paige’s direction as she mouths i’m so proud of you. 

Olivia isn’t here, claiming she was too sick to come tonight. Paige thinks she probably should be more upset about that. She thinks the whole thing is probably a ruse that Olivia had concocted to get Paige to beg her to come, to get Paige to show her that she wanted her wife there. The other woman's face had fallen when Paige hadn’t really reacted to the announcement, simply pressed her lips to her forehead and mumbled a feeble hope you feel better before leaving. Paige thinks this is probably the first sign they're falling apart. She thinks she should probably care about that a little bit more too. 

But the first thing her eyes had landed on once she’d entered the court, was Azzi’s face in the lower bowl and everything else had ceased to exist. Her first petty thought had been a ha! fuck you to the damned Clézzi shippers who claimed Azzi wouldn’t show up today, too busy consoling Clémence. They didn't know Azzi was all-american. Her second thought, the one that felt like a warm blanket being wrapped around her soul, was that of course Azzi’s here. Because Azzi had been there every time Paige achieved a milestone and even if they were barely a shadow of what they used to be, it's only right that Azzi is still here. 

Australia doesn’t even bother taking a shot, bowing out gracefully and the buzzer rings. 

The entire arena bursts into confetti and music as the USA Women’s Basketball Team clinches yet another Olympic Gold Medal. 

Paige doesn’t know who she’s hugging, lost in a sea of red uniforms as she feels herself floating through her teammates. They end up in a huddle, screaming and she can barely make out who’s saying what but it doesn’t matter. The chaos has never felt so fucking cathartic.

As everyone else disperses to find their families, Paige’s eyes land where they always seem to: on Azzi. And maybe she shouldn’t do it, maybe she should think again but fuck it Paige Bueckers is an olympic gold medalist and she’s going to share this moment with the first person she’d ever won a medal for this country with. Her legs move of their own accord, walking and then running and she breathes out a sigh of relief when she realizes that Azzi’s moving towards her too. 

“You did it. Oh my god Paige you did it,” Azzi squeals as they crash into each other in the middle of the court, her arms instinctively going around Paige’s neck as the blonds wraps her hands around Azzi’s waist, “I’m so fucking proud of you. I knew you could do it Paige.”

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Paige breathes out, “I just- it wouldn’t be the same winning without you.”

Azzi’s eyes soften, “I came for you. I don’t know if I’m allowed to say that but- I’m here for you.”

“Good don't want you to be here for anybody else,” Paige tightens her hold on the younger woman’s waist, “we’re gonna do it together next time okay. You and me, we’re gonna be golden together.”

And they both know that they’re saying words they shouldn’t say. That when they break apart from this moment, they’ll have to walk away. But for now, being in each other’s arms is the only thing that feels right, that feels golden.

[anantaru]

DAY 7 — MONSTERFUCKING

kinktober 2023. — masterlist | ao3

𖧡 — including — dan heng

𖧡 — warnings — fem! reader, monsterfucking, dragon! cock dan heng, dragon features -> he has horns, size kink/size difference, established relationship

hurried inhales gush into your mouth and you can feel it fill the maw inside you— touching the ends of your soul. a reaction just as the one mentioned wasn't of an unusual kind when you spent the night with dan heng, precisely his ability to leave you in awe.

you feel how his large cock was pressing into your tight opening, a prolonged slide of warmth and need spreading around your walls when you raise your hips for him, shaky breathing taking off the pressure in your throat. although this wasn't the first time of you being intimate with dan heng, you never fail to notice the clear differences between your bodies— he's bigger, as well as stronger when he pins you against the bed, and one hand was large enough to envelop both your wrists and keep them up your head.

nonetheless, the real reason as to why you were struggling to keep yourself at the same energy levels as he was— surprisingly wasn't the fact that dan heng was able to overturn you with nothing but sheer strength, but on top of that, he'll make it his duty to crowd you with his heavy cock, his bulky shaft truly one of a kind when he slots himself inside, pressing up into your touch.

however, your boyfriend falters for a moment, and without pulling out of your dripping pussy, he lets himself get cockwarmed before enfolding his eyes to hold your gaze, his grip on your wrists loosening as he slants himself forward, the blue horns on his head brilliantly shining like the celestial bodies in the moonlight sky.

"you know your safe word?" he whispers, wanting to make sure because you see— dan heng was aware that doing this with you, wouldn't be an easy task— good thing he always made sure to prep you up properly like flicking his tongue over your pussy while his face begins to redden from heightened blood flow the moment he listens to your begs telling him to fuck your cunt with the wet muscle, or what about pushing his digits so far up your hole that you're at least a little prepared for what's about to come.

your legs part slightly, just an inch more to ease your muscles from the position they were in before exhaling through your parted mouth, "I know my safe word." you affirm, "don't worry about me." and your hips are beginning to jerk forward every so slightly to signalize him that you really wanted this, not only that but that you needed it, so very much that the mere thought of losing the heaviness in your core was utterly mind shattering.

dan heng nips at your mouth, pressing his hips to find you rock yourself up at his groin— and his eyes, the intimate color of his irises, hidden beneath a beclouded shadow of lust, "o-okay." he understood now, idly gripping your wrists tighter before adding strength to his hips to slide out of you in one smooth, long-rooted drag before pushing himself back in again with a fast, sharp snap.

you yelp in surprise, a noise so desperate and fine that dan heng could see himself doing this all night long, drifting his length deeper and deeper until you believe you could somehow sense him in your lower belly, the energy of his blows expanding into a forming lump that held your climax hostage.

his body slides easily over yours while your tongues clash against each other, his wide-reaching cock desperately fucking you whilst he was inhaling your exhaled scent and shaking when it reaches the end of his senses, because;

it’s a miracle how you smell, feel and taste— it’s so intoxicating to him, how you accept him even in this form and aren’t frightened of the horns prancing on top of his scalp, and dan heng believes you must be some sort of aphrodisiac to him, because how else were you enforcing this much power on his entire psyche?

the lewd echo of both your needy noises combine inside the room and whirl around the humidity expelled by your sweaty, with perspiration webbed, skin— the need to please and make each other climax at the same time, ultimately crowned your bodies into one blissful release. 

©2023 anantaru's kinktober do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[chosoisamalewife]

Toji x male!reader

A/N : I can't find the ask for this but here it is

A/N Ik I am not posting in order but I already had this done

A/N MY DILF 😫

🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋

Warning : does contain smut ,somnophillia, temperature play, dumbification, marking, breeding kink, dacryphillia , praise kink , degrading, pain , mentions gun kink ..... I think that's it

Upon contrary belief this man is LOYAL

When he is in a relationship, he is in a relationship. He will NOT cheat

He is more priavate however once yall are alone he will worship the groud you walk on

When yall are in public he will either stand behind you in a protective manner or standing next to you with his hand resting on your back

He isn't picky with dates, he is honestly down with whatever you would like to do

His favorite pass time with you is laying on his back while you are laying directly on top of him just listening to you talk about whatever or watching something you enjoy. Would continuously caress your back gently (sometimes his hands will go lower) His goal of doing this is making you fall asleep on him and if you do he can’t help put to stare at how peaceful you look. There has been a few times where he falls asleep with you.

There was one time he fell asleep for you and you just laid on him tracing his features

Another one of his favorite things to do with you is cooking with you

LOVES TAKING SHOWERS AND BATHS WITH YOU

They don't even always lead to sexual acts, he just genuinely loves spending time with you and loves the feeling of you washing him. He will return the favor ofc

Now in baths (you have a big enough bathtub for him) he loves for you to lay on his chest as he plays with your hands. Sometimes he will whisper sweet nothings in your ear, other time yall just sit in each other's company

He would like a man who is intimidating but I feel like he would truly like a man who is totally different from him

Your soft and friendly personality adding a great contrast to his, and oh he can’t help but to soften around you and fawn over you

If you know how to do makeup, he would let you put it on him ONCE and that’s it’s so you better savor it. However that means he gets to do your makeup in return

WOULD KILL FOR YOU FREE OF CHARGE

Now if you are a killer like him then yall are the baddest couple to walk the earth. We love a power couple

NSFW

TOP!

Remember when I say he would worship you

Yeah bc he has a huge praise kink. “There you go baby, you take me so well”

Oooooo he loves to fuck you infront of a mirror so you can see what he does to you. His hand would stay on your face making sure you watch “Don’t look away baby.” “Look how pretty you look taking my cock” "Watch yourself cum"

SIZE KINK he a big man in multiple ways

LIKE IM TALKING AT LEAST 8 INCHES SOFT

WILL MARK YOU UP WITH DARK HICKIES, covering up with foundation won't help, might as well just wear a turtle neck.

Sex with him can go one of two way, good old love making with him absolutely worshiping you and praising you. OR him fucking you dumb

When he is rough, HE IS ROUGH.

He will mix slight praise with heavy degradation. He would have a hand on your throat pounding into you roughly. "You are such a fucking slut that your ass can't help but taking me so well." "MY dumb slut always so good for me"

His goal is fuck you till you can't take it anymore. Till you are dumb, the only time he likes to see you cry is when he is fucking you

Is into somnophillia but y’all would come up with a sign to show. For example if he walks into your room and you are laying there naked with a plug in it means it’s okay for him to have his way with you

And he will take his time too, he loves to watch you stir in your sleep and whimper in your sleep while he is kissing down your body and softly playing with your cock. He will lick the rim of your plug that sits inside of you, watching as you gasp softly and stir. Once you start stirring to much he will stop and let you fall back deep into slumber until waking you when he is fully ready to take you

Once you start to wake up he will always reassure you that it is him

Another contrary belief he will not have a gun kink, he would keep that shit separated from you so it will not be involved in y’all’s sex life

Can he be rough and mean? Yes but he doesn’t want to see that thing near you let alone pointed at you no matter if it isn’t loaded. (MIGHT be different if you are a killer like him)

However he is into pain and temperature play, especially wax play

You are his canvas while the wax is his paint. Loves to watch you hiss and arch as the hot wax drips onto your skin. You hisses quickly becoming whimpers

He didn't think your body can look more perfect until he saw your body covered in dark love bites, dried colorful wax and a mix of both of yall's cum dried.

BREEDING KINK, even if he can't get you pregnant he will still taking about filling you up with his cum and "breeding" you

Pretty basic at after care, he will check to see if you are okay (especially after a rough time) and get you a rag and wipe both of yall clean. But he will get or do anything you request without hesitation.

🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋

LET ME GIVE YOU ANOTHER KID TOJI

[withwritersblock]

Champagne Supernova

~Champagne Supernova by Oasis~

Author's note: this is inspired by the TV show My Mad Fat Diary because I was listening to this song and reminded me of the whole show. So this is loosely inspired by Rae and Finn. So this plus size reader :) Summary: Luke comforts Y/N after being nervous about being seen together.

Warnings: some triggering language regarding weight and personal image Word Count: 1,566 Luke Hughes x plus size fm!reader

She stared at her reflection contemplating if the New Jersey Devils sweater on her body was too tight. She tugged it at different places before she let out a groan. She moved towards her vanity, she sat down and pulled a headband on her head to pull her hair away from her face to get her makeup on.

Tomorrow is the stadium series for the New Jersey Devils and her long-term boyfriend Luke. They’ve been together ever since freshman year of high school. She tapped the small button beneath her vanity mirror to turn on the bright light to help her put her makeup on. 

She had soft music playing in the background as she slowly began to add primer to her skin. Luke knocked on the bedroom door before peeking his head into their shared bedroom. He smiled as he saw the hints of the forty-three on the back.

“Devils stuff looks good on you,” he mumbled as he leaned down and ran his hands from her shoulder down her sides. He delicately pressed his lips to the top of her head. She smiled softly as she began dabbing her face with her beauty blender. “I’m excited to show you off to my teammates,” he muttered before he flopped down on the beanbag sitting beside the vanity.

He tilted his head back against the wall as he admired her features. 

She has always been plus sized, well before they were in a relationship together. Luke has always found her the most beautiful girl in the world. They had three classes together their freshman year and Luke spent the majority of the first semester trying to convince her to go on a date with him.

In all honesty from the first time he asked her out, she was convinced he was doing it as a joke. It was hard to believe a handsome tall, athletic man like Luke would want someone like her. She never found herself pretty because of her weight. How could someone like him ever want someone like her?

But he did, and he spent months trying to prove to her how genuine he was. It took four months for her to finally say yes. He had spent every moment he could making sure she was happy and she was loved.

He’s been in love with her since the moment he saw her and six years later nothing has changed. At least he thought nothing had changed. 

After being drafted for the NHL and officially playing for the team this season; Y/N has felt something shift in her confidence. She’s never wavered in her confidence level throughout their relationship. The occasional thought that he was staying with her out of convenience would come into her mind. But Luke would look at her with the same look he did the first time he said ‘I love you’ and the thought would disappear. 

The more she started going to his games, she noticed the size of the other girlfriends of the players. How much more petite and bleached blonde they looked. It was hard to go up and say she was also dating one of the players. So, she never did. She would stay in the stands and watch instead of the WAGs suite.

“You’re staring,” she mutters as she begins to powder her features. 

“I don’t see you enough anymore, I miss looking at ya,” he mutters as he delicately tapped his knee against her side. She smiled softly as she continued her makeup routine. 

She felt her heart race as she continued to do her makeup. “I miss looking at you too,” she mumbled. He stood up slowly. He towered over her as he leaned down, she tilted her head back to meet his gaze. He took a hold of her chin, smiling softly as he leaned down and delicately kissed her.

He pulled away, only for a moment before he kissed her again. “Lukey,” she mumbled against his lips. He took a deep breath before pulling away only a few inches.

“I know,” he mumbled, “You have to get ready,” he let out before he planted another kiss on her lips before he slowly began to walk away. “I’m going to take a quick shower, my love,” he smiled towards her as he left the bedroom. 

It took another thirty minutes before she was done with her makeup, she was unsatisfied with how it looked. Nothing seemed to make her look how she wanted to. Her makeup wasn’t sitting right and her hair was not looking how she wanted it to. She stood in front of the mirror as she ran her hand over her sides. The curves weren’t in the right spot, nothing seemed to make her look good or feel confident. 

He knocked on the door again before he entered the room wearing the red and black Devils beanie and the bright red zip up. She forced a smile on her lips as she met his eye through the mirror. “You look beautiful,” he said as he shut the door behind him as he walked towards her. She clenched her jaw as she pursed her lips forward. He squinted his eyes, “What’s on your mind?” he asked as he delicately placed his hands on her hips. She pulled away from him, blinking rapidly.

“I don’t know if I should go,” she mumbled. His face fell as he watched her walk towards the bed.

“Why not?” he asked barely above a whisper. She pulled her lips together as she kept her gaze on the small blanket in front of her.

“Luke, there’s going to be cameras,” she let out, her voice breaking.

“So?” he pleated, “I want them to meet you! I’m always bragging about my super amazing girlfriend and they keep wanting to meet you!” he expressed, delicately reaching his hand to take a hold of her arm. She pulled her arm away from his grasp.

“And what are they going to think when they look at me?” she countered, turning her gaze to meet his eye. He furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head.

“Why do you care about what they think?” he asked, gesturing behind him. Her lips began to quiver as she tilted her head back.

“Because do you know how much better you could do than me?” she offered, her lips quivering. He shook his head while pursing his lips forward. “You’re a professional athlete, you could easily get some celebrity who’s skinny and pretty-”

“Where’s all of this coming from?” Luke asked, shaking his head. She paused as her mind was racing. “Y/N, since when did you think about stuff like that?”

“I’ve always thought about stuff like that! Every time we take a picture I think about how people will look at it and think,  “What’s he doing with that ugly fat ass, he could do so much better.” Fan girls are ruthless, Luke! I don’t want them to look at me and think-”

“I don’t care about what they think!” he shouted back. She rolled her eyes while letting out a huff of air.

“I do!” she yelled back. 

“The only two opinions that should matter are mine and yours!” He took a step towards her, looking deeply into her teary eyes. “I look at you and all I see is the most beautiful girl in the world!” 

“You know that’s not true,” she let out while shaking her head.

“That’s my opinion! I get to decide who I think is beautiful. I get to decide who I want to love! You have no idea how I see you. You are beautiful and sexy and smart and you’re everything I’ve ever wanted, Y/N. That’s the opinion that should matter, not what some fourteen year old girl says in a Tiktok comment,” he explained while scanning her features. 

She smiled softly as he spoke. “I love you,” she let out quietly as her voice broke. He smiled softly as he engulfed her in a hug, she blinked harshly as she leaned her head against his chest.

They hugged for a few more seconds before she pulled away, he waited until she was ready to separate. She looked into his eyes before she wiped the small tears that fell on her cheek. Her gaze looked towards the beanie that was too big for his head and a chuckle fell from her lips. 

“What?” he asked, chuckling.

“You look like the Cat in the Hat with that,” she let out as she pointed towards the hat. He rolled his eyes playfully as he wrapped his arms around her waist as he rocked her back and forth.

“The what? The what?” he asked teasingly as he swayed them back and forth. A laugh fell from their lips as he slowly pulled away from her. “You ready?” he muttered. 

“Let me fix this,” she motioned towards the small smears of mascara beneath her eyes. His mouth fell open shortly before it clammered shut. “I’ll be ready in five minutes,” she mumbled before pressing her lips against his cheek.

“Okay, Darling,” he muttered with a wide smile before he plopped down on the beanbag chair. She stared towards him suspiciously. “I like watching you do your makeup,” he mumbled. She rolled her eyes as she smiled towards him before she sat back down at her vanity.

[sleepsacked]

for eternity, c.s.

+ college student!choi san x college student!afab!reader

+ part: 3/3 (this is all the previous parts put into one revised and extended part, so this CAN be read as a standalone!)

+ word count: 19.9k (english isn’t my only language so this is 90% edited to the best of my ability, i am so sorry for grammatical errors x)

+ tags: 18+, minors/ageless blogs dni! tags are below the cut, it’s a lot lol

+ summary: classic story of experienced reader corrupting innocent boyfriend who managed to end up together after being partnered up for a class project and explore their filthy fantasies together.

+ a/n: guys... i know. it's been two years since i uploaded on this story and trust me when i say there has not been a moment where i did not think about sitting down and uploading on here especially because i still get notifications of people re-blogging and liking the previous parts. with that being said, i revised the previous parts and fixed up my grammar and added bits of more plot to each along with adding what would have been stand-alone third part had i not decided to add all three/three and a half? (1, 2, 2.5, 3) parts together. 

please show this some love if you can, and feel free to leave me any suggestions on who you wanna see me write for next...  thank you all again for your extreme patience x

© sleepsacked 2024 / wanna buy me a coffee? xo

+ tags: semi-story building/plot, light humor, college au, virgin!san, experienced!reader, (tried to make it as gender neutral as possible), rest of atz making occasional appearance but mostly reader x san, clumsy/nerd!san, dry humping, grinding, panty stuffing? cum stuffing? hand.. grinding?, filthy makeouts, usage of pet names (babe/baby/love/sweet boy/pretty girl) a lot, teasing, sniffing..(?), vibrating dildo, body worship, hair pulling, cum play, size kink?kinda?, slight dom!reader x sub!san dynamic, slight serivce top san too lol, maybe dom san for a split second, nipple play, bed??humping??, cunnilingus, masturbation (m), panty usage(m) it'll make sense when you read lol, panty kink, begging, squirting, creampies yay, perv!san, slight corruption kink, imagination/dirty fantasy/sexuality exploration??, dirty talk, tongue play(?), whiny san yay, slight body image insecurity, slight relationship insecurity on san's part, reader is canonically on birth control ok, kinda fluffy, kinda realistic, reader and san have good communication okay, if i forgot anything lmk x

-

You and San had met in your graphics design class at the beginning of your third year of university, which was a class that had nothing to do with your major and was just some random filler class that fit into your schedule for some elective credits. 

Although he had sat on the other side of the room, he had surely made a solid impression on you. When you’d see him stroll into class, you never failed to notice how his broad shoulders expanded as he fixed his bag from falling down his arm, or how his slim waist was accentuated by whatever pair of sweats he decided to wear that day. You also never failed to notice his slight resemblance between a fox and a cat, he was definitely mesmerizing to say the least.

It wasn’t until your professor assigned a partner project; and as if fate couldn’t have been anymore real- the two of you were paired together.

You had noticed that he hadn’t spoken much in class throughout the semester, listening intently to the professor’s lectures (or just really good at pretending), and occasionally getting up to use the bathroom. Because of these facts alone, you concluded that he was more on the reserved side of society and opted out for keeping to himself; finding a quiet peace in marching to the beat of his own drum… far from most of the guys you typically sought after.

You were familiar with guys like those who were in alpha tau zeta or beta sigma tau; the ones who were easy to bring to bed but awful to bring home to your parents.

“Hey, I’m Y/N. Looks like we’re partnered together,” you laughed lightly.

“San,” he lowered his head in a quick nod, gathering his backpack to place on the floor and scooted his chair to the side to welcome you. As you sat down, you stole a quick glance in his direction before situating yourself to move your focus to the professor and the instructions for the project that was about to take course over the next couple of weeks.

-

“Alright, well if there’s no more questions, you guys are free to go for the day. And again, please don’t wait ‘til the last minute to begin your projects. Make sure you and your partner are on the same page. Have a good weekend everyone,” your professor waved. As the class began to file out, you looked back at San, noticing how slow he was at making his way out.

“Are-”

“I-”

“You go ahead first,” you laughed lightly, taking note of San’s avoidance of eye contact and the light blush that began to creep up on his neck. He clutched his backpack tighter before letting out a sigh and finally meeting your eyes.

“I was just going to ask when you wanted to begin working on our project… I’m free on the weekends and I don’t have any classes on Fridays either,” his voice trailed off, his eyes averting to the wall behind you and then back to you again.

Oh, he is going to be the death of you.

You hummed. “Yeah, weekends work for me. No classes on Friday either so we can start tomorrow? You live on campus?”

“Yeah, I live in the Arts Hall,” San nodded.

“Really?” Your eyebrows raised, “I do too. Here. Lemme get your number and I’ll text you later and we can figure out a time to meet up! I have a meeting to go to that starts in 10 and it’s on the other side of campus,” you began to pull out your phone, opening up the keypad and handing it to San.

“Oh? Oh, yeah, okay, just text me whenever. I didn’t mean to hold you up,” he fumbled his words as his hand grazed yours after taking your phone from you. He typed his number and handed your phone back to you, you smiled as you took a quick glance at his contact name.

“san :3”

Cute, you thought to yourself as you gathered your belongings and got up from your seat.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m excited to start working on our project. See you around, San,” you looked at him one last time as you waved goodbye, walking out the door to head to your meeting.

-

You hadn’t texted San yet, but that didn’t mean you hadn’t been thinking about him the whole day. You were curious to know more about him, his shyness, how you never noticed that he lived in the same dorm hall as you. You figured it really wouldn’t be too difficult to talk to San and your curiosity was eating at you more than you liked to admit (it was definitely the raging hunger).

It was already past dinner, your meeting lasting longer then you had expected. You debated taking an Uber to that one pizza restaurant you’d been meaning to try out or to just head back to your dorm and make a bowl of ramen. 

With San still on your mind as you decided on dinner plans, you realized you weren’t someone who was keen on taking the lead or being a more assertive person in a situation like this, so when you found yourself open San’s contact profile in your phone and hitting the call button, you were quite surprised.

As you were about to hang up after the first few rings you heard a faint greeting on the other end of the line.

“Hello? Who is this?”

“Hi, I’m so sorry to be calling you right now… it’s Y/N-”

“Y/N? Oh, hi… hi… are you alright?”

Your chest squeezed at his sudden concern.

“Yes! Yes, I’m okay. Seriously, I’m sorry for calling so suddenly. I just got out of my meeting-”

“This late?”

“I know right… I just got out and I was about to head to this new pizza restaurant downtown and was wondering if you wanted to come with me. I know it’s a bit… weird considering we haven’t spoken to each other before today. But I figured we could talk about our project and set up a schedule to work on it or something? If you’re not busy right now, of course.”

You rambled, suddenly regretting even calling San in the first place and realizing that it was a bit awkward to invite San out to eat on a whim like this considering the circumstances.

 There was a long pause.

“Actually, it’s okay if you can’t! I know it’s super late, and I called outta nowhere-”

“I’m down. Where are you at right now?”

“Passing the library actually...”

“That’s good, I’m on the 4th floor of the tech center, I’ll meet you at those benches in front of the library, yeah?”

“Uh… yeah, yeah, I’ll wait right here.”

San hummed, before hanging up and leaving you with your own thoughts as you walked back towards the benches and sat down, waiting patiently.

-

“How’s the practice for the showcase coming along?” 

“Could be better, we’re still working on the chorus but can’t seem to mix the vocals right and it’s been pissing us off.”

“I’m sure it’s fine, you guys are perfectionists.”

“Well, of course we are Wooyoung! I’m sure you feel the same when you choreograph, right?”

“Okay, Yunho, that’s not even a good example.”

“What? It totally is! You can’t dance if the music is shit, so we have to make sure our music isn’t shit!”

“Mingi, shouldn’t you be worrying about, I don’t know, other shit?”

San laughed to himself, his fingers grazing across the keyboard as he finished typing up some discussion answers for one of his coding classes, doing his best to tune out most of the chatter that was happening amongst his friends.

His phone buzzed against the tabletop, his screen lighting up with an unknown number. His friends stayed enthralled in their conversation, paying him no mind as he answered his phone hastily.

“Hello? Who is this?”

“Hi, I’m so sorry to be calling you right now… it’s Y/N-”

Wooyoung was the first to notice that San was on the phone, not even because he was necessarily trying to pay attention but he was about to ask if San wanted to join the rest of them heading to the cafeteria to grab a quick bite before it closed for the night.

“Hey guys, shh, shh,” Wooyoung whispered as he smacked Yunho’s arm. Yunho and Mingi’s voices died down as their attention fixed on San.

“That’s good, I’m on the 4th floor of the tech center, I’ll meet you at those benches in front of the library, yeah?” San finished with a hum before hanging up the phone, feeling three sets of eyes on him.

“So who was that?” Wooyoung’s lips fell into a coy smile, a tilt to his voice as he felt himself get giddy.

“Hm?”

“Don’t tell me…” Yunho’s hand slapped Wooyoung’s shoulder before giving it a hard grip, staring at San in disbelief. Mingi was the next to chime in, as if he felt the cue to get in on the joke.

“Finally, my man San, you shooting shots?”

San’s eyes closed, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose before letting out a soft sigh.

“It was one of my classmates, Y/N, she’s my partner for this project in my graphics design class. She called asking to grab dinner and talk about what direction we wanna go, nothing crazy,” San began gathering his belongings and stuffing as much as he could in his bag in one go before getting up and slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“Woah, woah, woah, kinda sounds like she’s interested, no?” Yunho wiggled his brows. San immediately shook his in disagreement, feeling the tips of his ears get hot.

“San, I mean this in like, the most loving way possible, but you almost never know when someone is interested in you and… well,” Wooyoung cleared his throat before continuing, “I think it kinda has to do with the fact that… you know… you’re a little bit of a late bloomer.” Wooyoung cupped his hands around his lips as he whispered the last couple of words in San’s direction.

“Alright!” San’s voice cracked, “On that note, I will see you guys tomorrow!”

“Be safe! Use protection!”

“To manhood!”

“Yeah! What they said!”

San continued to make way out of the building, not looking back at his friends as his face continued to heat up. The comments definitely made him nervous, he didn't think you were interested in him… right? You guys barely had a full conversation and only started talking this afternoon in class despite having been together the last month and a half in the same classroom. Was this how dating was like? Was this how people pursued each other? Was it not like best friends falling in love after years of knowing each other? I mean sure, yeah plenty of couples met in different ways, he was pretty familiar with romcoms and-

No! Focus! This is just about class, the project, getting familiar enough to get a good grade and moving forward to the next semester, no time for dating or romance, and certainly no time for sex.

San wasn’t too sure what happened next but suddenly he was lying on his back at the bottom of the stairwell, his bag barely cushioning his fall and hearing a faint yell of his name outside through the glass doors. Faint pattering against the concrete outside could be heard before the glass door swung open.

“San! Oh my god? Are you okay?” You kneeled next to him, awaiting his response.

All San could manage was a groan before he turned over on his side and slowly got up from the ground, reaching for his bag in the process. This definitely couldn’t be more embarrassing- actually, no, knowing him and his luck, it definitely could be more embarrassing in due time.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You sure? What even happened?”

“Um, actually, I don’t know…” his voice trailed off as he dusted off his clothing.

“What?” You laughed.

“Sorry, I mean, I think I was just lost in my head about something and must’ve missed a step.”

“Ah… lost in your head about anything in particular?” You moved to walk towards the door, reaching for the handle and letting San walk through first, his clumsy state a bit unpredictable for properly meeting up with each other.

“Thanks,” San quietly said as he walked through the glass doors and into the crisp, fall scenery that was draped prettily over the campus grounds. The trees began to lose their leaves and the colors that their foliage left painted on the ground was always the prettiest picture that San never got tired of. 

“And no. Just regular thoughts roaming around in there, I guess.” You both continued to stroll down the path that led to the student parking lot, the soft crunch of leaves creating a comforting ambiance.

“Makes sense.” You paused under one of the light posts, the sun setting enough that the lights emitted a soft glow that accentuated all different types of contours on each of your faces.

“I can order the Uber, by the way. I wasn’t sure when you’d head down or what you wanted to do or anything but I can order it, I don’t think it’ll take long to get here,” You began mumbling as you reached for your phone in your sweater.

“Uber? We can just take my truck, no?”

“You have a truck?”

“Nothing fancy, trust me, it's an ‘06 model,” San laughed, wondering why it was so surprising he owned a truck. He motioned for you to follow as he continued the path down to the parking lot, you followed behind. 

“But a truck?”

“What? A guy can’t own a truck?”

“No, it’s not that- I just mean, you don’t really seem like the truck kinda guy.”

San shrugged, “Gets me from place to place, plus she’s still kicking.”

San led the way to his truck that was parked conveniently in front of the entrance of the tech center.

“No way this truck has crank up windows,” You said in disbelief as you hopped in. “I haven’t seen these in like years, like years, San.”

He threw his head back as he laughed, giving you a shrug as you guys drove off with mindless chatter being shared amongst the both of you.

-

And that was how your relationship with San began; working as partners for a project (which you both aced) that soon led to hanging out at every free moment either of you had. Countless spontaneous dates throughout the course of those next few weeks of you inviting him out to eat dinner with you at that pizza joint. It wasn’t very much longer until San had finally asked you to be his romantic partner.

You were made aware of San’s inexperience, both in dating and intimacy, and honestly, it wasn’t something that was entirely concerning to you. You had a feeling that maybe his experience wasn’t… all there, and you were content with moving at a gradual pace, his pace. Quite truthfully, your pride and ego was well-fed knowing that you’d be the only one to share these experiences with your boyfriend for the first time.

Today, however, you had noticed a shift in San’s attitude and he was more clingy than normal; sticking to your side like glue whenever you went anywhere within your student living apartment. It started off with not wanting to let you get out of bed to use the restroom, clinging onto your waist tighter as you tried wiggling your way out of his arms and nuzzling his head in your neck with a low whine. Your head fell back against the mattress, letting out a sigh.

“Baby, what’s wrong, hm,” you stopped to look down at him as best as you could given your current state. You weren’t annoyed, by all means, but something was definitely bothering San and you were maybe just a little hurt that he was acting differently like this as a way to let you know. You wiggled around again, snaking your arm around his back and combing your fingers through the short hairs that were at the nape of his neck. 

San nuzzled his head deeper into the crook of your neck, the feeling of his eyelashes fluttering against your sensitive skin giving you goosebumps.

“Nothing’s wrong… just- I don’t know. Just wanna be around you, s’all.” Sans lips grazed ever so lightly as he spoke against your skin.

You hummed in faux agreement, “Okay, whatever you say. Lemme get up and go pee, then I can make us something to eat and we can put on that one show you were telling me about the other day, yeah?”

San squeezed his arms around you tightly one last time, before he rolled over and laid against the bed, a pout forming on his lips.

“Fine, that sound’s good.”

-

You were bent over, looking in the fridge and wondering what the hell you were going to cook up. The groceries didn’t look promising, probably because there was a lack thereof, and it was enough to have you close the fridge and look for something in the pantry.

Suddenly, muscular arms wrapped around your body, one around your waist and the other around your upper chest. Light kisses were peppered and pressed against your shoulder and the back of your neck.

“Baby, can’t we just order delivery? I miss you and want you back in bed,” San voiced through his tiny ministrations on your neck. You couldn’t help but giggle at your boyfriend’s clinginess, this level of clinginess being a new side of him you had yet to see. However, you still tried your best to keep your composure, but his broad chest felt so warm against your back that you couldn’t help but indulge in his affection.

“You sure you're okay? You’re not running a fever? Or a concussion?” You tried to turn your head to face him, but his kisses were too distracting on your body and San always had a way of making you feel like he was worshiping you. His arms squeezed you tighter, pulling your ass to meet his crotch. He gave a little thrust and you felt his hard-on press into the clothed crevice of your ass. San gave you one last kiss before he rested his chin on your shoulder and looked at you with hooded eyes.

“Yes, love, I’m okay. I just miss you, “ San leaned forward, pressing your noses together before pushing his hips up into you again, his eyes fluttering softly before he looked back at you.

“So this is why you’re being like this, huh?” A small smile formed on your lips, quickly leaning in to peck San before pulling away. “You want me to help you out?” San turned his gaze away from you, the tips of his ears becoming hot and red, which you found more than endearing.

“Whatever you wanna do right now, I’m okay with, San. Just do whatever you think might feel good for you, okay?” You spoke softly, somewhat anticipating if your boyfriend was going to make any type of move. The farthest you had gotten with San was the occasional heavy make-out sessions with occasional groping- but he never reached to touch you where you wanted him most.

San released you from his grip, not speaking as he turned you around and gently grabbed your wrist. You looked at him, waiting to see if he was going to give any response but instead, he dragged you to the bedroom, leading you to stand at the edge of the bed before walking back to the door and quietly shutting it.

He turned back to look at you, his face and ears flushed before slowly walking towards you and standing in front of you sheepishly.

“You said I can do whatever I think feels good…?” San fidgeted with his fingers, pulling the inside of his cheeks between his teeth. You grabbed his hands, gently rubbing your thumb across the top.

“Whatever you want, baby. However you want, too… however you wanna use me, I trust you,” you brought one his hands to your lips, pressing gentle kisses before opening his palm and pressing your cheek against him. You heard him gulp as you briefly glanced down and noticed the tent in his sweatpants begging for some friction, alongside the faintest spot of pre-cum forming.

“May you bend over the bed?” He spoke softly as he looked at you, eyes glossed over with lust.

You smiled and nodded, lifting your head from his palm. Before you began to turn around to bend over the edge of the bed, you stood on your tip-toes, kissing the round little tip of San’s nose before you quietly cooed at him.

“Only because you asked me so kindly,” you placed a light kiss on his lips. You caught the way his nose scrunched as he fought back a smile. He knew you loved how well-mannered he was.

You turned around and bent over the edge of the bed, your clothed-ass on display for San. You weren’t sure what he had in mind as you laid in this position, but before you could ponder too long you felt cool hands push your shirt up a little so your waist was now exposed to the cold air and before San. You could feel your lover’s body heat behind you as he began to position himself closer to you. Soft massages kneaded their way into your hips and you couldn’t help but rest your forehead on your arm as you tried your best to look back and get a good view of San.

From your peripheral, you could see how timid he was. He stared down at your ass, lip between his teeth and stepping just right to get the angle he wanted behind you. The grip of his massages became harder before his hands stilled and you felt him roll his hips into your ass.

The pressure of his heavy, clothed-cock pressing into your ass had your mouth running dry. It had been awhile since you had sex, of course respecting San’s choices into wanting to take it slow (which you also had wanted to as well, thinking that the wait would most definitely be worth it). For some reason though, the idea of not going all the way right now felt far more intimate than the act itself and that familiar feeling of warmth rushing to your core was making your body become hot and bothered quick, insanely quick.

San hadn’t moved, just resting his weight against you, hips pressed firmly into your ass. His breaths were deep and slightly heavy as you did your best at turning your body to get a better view of him; trying to take in the way his cheeks were flushed and how his mouth was red and puffy from how hard he was biting it. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off the way his straining cock met the curves of your ass perfectly. 

“You’re doing good, baby. Just do whatever you think feels good,” You pushed your hips back against him, hearing him let out a sigh. “You know I'll be good for you, San.”

San let out a loud whine, running his hands up your back and raising your shirt in the process before lightly scratching his nails back down and hooking his fingers into your waistband.

“Y/N, can I- is it- is it okay if I take off your pants?” San rolled his hips against your ass again and you could tell he was trying to have some self-restraint, as if not to come too soon.

“Yes, please, fuck,” you groaned. San slowly rolled your pants down over the curve of your ass, pushing himself off you just enough to get them down your legs and helping you get them completely off before kicking them away from the bed.

“My underwear-“

“I know just- just let me,” San re-positioned himself behind you and when you turned your head to glance behind you, you noticed that San had also taken off his bottoms, only leaving him in his briefs and his sleep shirt which was mostly unbuttoned, leaving the expanse of his chest exposed enough to see the pink flush.

You turned back to rest your forehead against your arm, anticipating the feeling of San's heavy (and now more thinly layered) cock against your ass. 

You felt the bed dip on the side of your head, you turned to see San’s hand gripping the duvet as his other hand found contact with your hip again. He rolled his hips into you and as he did so you felt your underwear shift up and put tension on your clit. San soon fell into a steady pace of grinding his hips against your ass, occasionally leaning down to place kisses on your shoulder and suck and nip at the back of your neck.

“Y/N, baby, you feel so good like this,” San nipped at your ear, letting out a soft moan when he looked down at where the swells of your ass slightly jiggled every time he rolled his hips.

“Yeah? Feels good?” You turned your head to look at him as best as you could, almost all his body weight was on you as he began to rut his hips against your ass. You pouted your lips at him, silently pleading for the feeling of his lips on yours. He leaned down and indulged in you, lazily moving his lips against yours. In the midst of kissing, you caught his tongue with your lips and began sucking lightly. You felt San’s hips stutter and he moaned loudly with his tongue still trapped between your lips. San suddenly pulled away, his hair matted against his forehead, shirt ruffled and lips puffy. There were traces of drool going down his chin and the idea of kissing him until he became a wet, whiny mess had your mind reeling. 

“Something wrong?” You looked up at San, glancing down at the now more noticeable wet spot on his briefs, a mixture of your desire and his.

“Nothing, it’s just if I come, I wanna look at you. Flip over for me,” San placed his hands on your hips, “please,” shooting you a cheeky smile that had you giggling.

Once you flipped over, San positioned himself to where one of his legs was nestled between your thighs and pressed deliciously against your core. His head found purchase in your neck, attaching his lips and leaving love bites everywhere he could.

“You know, I've been trying not to come fast this whole time,” San breathed into your neck. “I’m just wondering how good it’s gonna be when we actually fuck,” he lifted his head to take a good look at you. 

He hadn’t realized how fucked out you actually were and it was a mental image he wanted to keep stored in his head for as long as he could. This time you were the one getting shy, the idea of San fucking you right now, eager and clumsy, was too tempting. Your panties were sticky and truthfully it was starting to get a bit uncomfortable, but San had moved his attention back to your neck, softly rutting against your hip bone which had his thigh rubbing against your clit. You involuntarily rolled your hips against his thigh, letting out a feathery moan.

San’s head snapped up from your neck, looking down at you with furrowed brows as he pressed his thigh harder into your clothed-heat. Your eyes squeezed shut as you let out another moan, head turning to the opposite side from San in embarrassment.

“San-“

“I want you to do what feels good too,” his hand grabbed your chin, gently pulling your face to look back in his direction again. His stare was too much, his eyes averting from yours to your lips and back to yours before he moved one finger to the tip of your mouth.

As if on instinct, you opened and welcomed his index finger, gently sucking and rolling your tongue around the length while doing your best to maintain eye contact.

San's eyes were solely focused on how your lips were so perfectly wrapped around his finger as the rest of his hand maintained a semi-hard grip on either side of your cheeks.

“Fuck, I can’t do this baby, I wanna come on you. Please, can I come on you?” San’s voice quivered as his eyes made their way back up to yours. With your mouth still occupied, you nodded, moaning around his finger as a means of saying yes.

He took his finger from your mouth, gently wiping it on the hem of his shirt before reaching for his shirt collar and swiftly removing it from his body and throwing it at the foot of the bed.

“It was starting to get too hot for that. You feeling okay?” San spoke, throwing a quick glance at you before he shuffled around on the bed and placed his hands on your knees to spread your legs to make room for him. 

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” You shifted, moving your legs around so he could slot himself between you. It took you a minute to realize that San was more bare than you, something that rarely happened. San wasn’t shy or insecure about his body, at least you didn’t seem to get that impression. You knew he took good care of himself and his physique, working out as often as he could in between study sessions or dance practices. Yet, you had come to the conclusion that maybe he just wasn’t as comfortable being shirtless in a lounge setting than you had initially thought.

“Maybe, but you didn’t answer me. How are you feeling?” San laid more of his body weight on you and instinctively you brought your hands up to feel the soft flesh of his chest.

“Feeling like I'm gonna overheat in this thick ass shirt but I also don’t wanna take it off.”

His gaze softened, placing pecks across your face. He started with your forehead, leading to your left cheek and then your right. As your eyes fluttered shut, he gently placed kisses on top of your eyelids, following down your nose to your chin and then ending at your lips.

“You’re beautiful, baby. And I'll tell you a hundred times a day- no! a hundred times an hour if i have too.”

“Can I wear your shirt?” You smiled sheepishly.

His eyebrow twitched before he began to frantically nod his head, scrambling across the sheets to bring it up to you. You sat up enough to slip your shirt off and quickly replace it with San’s with ease. Thankfully, San wore pajama sets so the shirt was thin enough to not overwhelm you. San reached up to your chest, unbuttoning a few buttons on his sleep shirt that revealed just the right amount of cleavage for him to mess with.

Once settled back on top of you, he shifted his weight so that his cock laid right between your folds. the wet stains on both of your underwear making the fabric feel much thinner.

“Fuck, Y/N,” San placed one last kiss before looking down between where your bodies met, rolling his hips with purpose against your clit. The friction of the wet fabric and the pressure of the tip of his cock rubbing deliciously against your sensitive bud made you feel like you were going insane and soon enough you found yourself rolling your hips with his.

“San, baby, you’re doing so good for me, you know that,” you moaned, wrapping a hand in his hair and gently tugging. He groaned, this time pulling back far enough to slam his hips against yours.

You moaned as your back arched slightly off the bed- you weren’t sure what had come over San, but his energy had changed so much that you had forgotten he was inexperienced.

“I'm so good for you, huh?” San said through clenched teeth, rolling his hips harder and faster. This new found discovery of San enjoying praise did something for you, making your mind reel of all the intimate endeavors that would take place in the near future.

“So good you’re gonna let me come on you? Let me come all over your panties and stuff it back up in that little pussy of yours?” He was looking at you now, bottom lip glossed with saliva from sucking it between his teeth.

“Shit,” you raised your legs higher as you spread them out more, “are you sure you’ve never done this, San? I didn't know you could be so mouthy.”

San hooked one of your legs under his arm as he shifted to get a better angle to rub his cock between you.

“You’re the one and only, baby,” he laughed, “Didn’t know I had it in me either.”

You laughed, before wrapping an arm behind his neck and pulling him down towards you for a kiss. This one was by far the messiest kiss you had ever shared with San. As he rutted against you, his lips moved against yours sloppily. Thin trails of spit formed around your mouths as you sucked and licked against each other's tongues- San pulled away just enough to speak.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” his thrusts against your clit became rougher, the fabric of your underwear rubbing against you hard. You wrapped one leg around his waist, putting pressure on his lower back and pulling him closer to your body.

“I think I’m gonna come, Y/N, oh, oh fuck-“ you looked up at San, fingers still wrapped in his hair. his brows furrowed together, mouth falling into a small, cute ‘o’ shape, feeling his hips began to stutter.

“I know, baby, go ahead,” you moved your hips against his, “you did so good. Go ahead and give it to me.” 

That seemed to set San over the edge, a high-pitched whine coming from his lips and you soon felt a warm liquid fall on top of your mound. You looked down to see San still coming, hot-spurts making their way through his briefs, the mental image of him coming inside and milking him dry making your mind reel. You moaned, bringing your hand up to his cheeks and pulling him forward in a lazy kiss.

You felt San’s hand make its way to the top of your waist band as he pulled away from you and looked down.

“I wasn’t joking about stuffing you with this Y/N,” San wiped at some of his come from your underwear with his middle finger before bringing it lower to your clothed-entrance. He prodded at the wet fabric, rubbing his come at where your hole was clenching eagerly to feel some type of release. You felt him push lightly against you, rubbing in circles his come-covered finger before applying more pressure. He quickly swiped up more before going back to your entrance and pushing his fingers inside you as best he could with your underwear still creating a barrier between the two of you. Your head fell back against the sheets and your hips moved lightly against his finger.

“San,” you moaned as a hand reached down to his wrist, holding it steady as your hips moved with more fervor. You felt his hand pull back as he shifted down to be face first with your pussy. Just as you were about to pout at the loss of contact, a harder pressure was applied. You glimpsed down through hooded eyes, taking your lip between your teeth as you saw San looking back up at you to gauge your reaction. 

This time his palm was pressed against you, cupping gently and moving up and down slightly as if he were giving you a massage.

“Grind against me, y/n,” San spoke softly, turning his head and pressing soft kisses against the inside of your thigh. He pressed his palm harder against your clothed-heat, turning his attention back to you. Your hips moved on their own accord, the fabric continuing to pull and rub against your clit. Breathy moans filled the room and San used his free hand to rub gently into your thighs and waist, occasionally reaching up to your chest and grabbing roughly through your (his) shirt.

You felt his hand pull away again, only to be quickly met with a light slap, a jolt rushing through your body as you let out a gasp. Your hand reached for the duvet, twisting lightly in your palm as you craved for that feeling again.

“Harder, please, harder,” your eyes squeezed shut as you moved your hips closer to San’s face, your way of asking for some release. The knot in your stomach began to coil tighter, waiting to be pushed over the edge. San dug the heel of his hand against your clit, moving softly as you moved your hips at your own desired and eager pace.

“Oh- oh fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum,” your hand made way to find grip in San’s disheveled hair, grabbing at the base of his locks and tugging with just enough force. In the haze of pleasure, you could make a distinction of moans that weren’t your own and you had just enough time to look down in between your legs to see San with his eyes shut and eyebrows furrowed and he let out a whine. His hand pressed harder against your clit one last time before the tension in your stomach snapped and your hips stuttered against his palm.

San moaned with you, keeping his hand pressed against you as you rode out your orgasm.

“That's it, want you to give it all to me,” he turned his head against your thighs again, placing small kisses and bites along the expanse of the fleshy skin. The lingering feelings of your orgasm soon finished and you’d fallen into a comfortable daze, loosening your grip in San’s hair and softly running your fingers through it instead. Your eyes began to flutter, forgetting about the stickiness in your panties. You snapped to your senses when you felt San move forward, still between your thighs and closer to your clothed crotch. 

He inhaled where you felt the wetness of both yours and his release was mixed together, letting out a low moan before he moved back up the bed so he was directly above you.

“You are such a perv for doing that, by the way,” you laughed as you ran your hands across his chest, taking note of the flush that was creeping up his neck.

“Hey,” he whined, leaning down to nuzzle into your neck. “You said I could do whatever I thought felt right,” you could hear and feel the pout in his voice.

“I didn't say I minded you being a little perv-y, if I wasn’t so sleepy right now I might try getting off again,” your arms wrapped around his back, nails lightly scratching up and down as you felt more of his body weigh against you.

“Is that so?” San spoke softly as his lips sucked love bites into your neck.

“It is,” you moved your head to the side, allowing more room for him to kiss and suck at your neck. “You know you sound cute when you’re all whiny, San.”

“Babe,” his voice dragged out as he rolled off you, embarrassed. Your laugh rang throughout the room as you turned to your side and reached out for San before he could make it too far out of reach.

“You know I'm teasing you, baby. Now can we clean up real quick before I pass out over here?” you placed a quick kiss on San’s lips before you began to get up from the bed, the stickiness between your legs becoming too unbearable.

San followed behind you quickly, grabbing your waist and pulling you in his arms.

“Thank you,” he whispered against your hair as he hugged you a little more tightly. You smiled against his chest as you wrapped your arms around his waist, this man was definitely going to be the death of you.

-

It hadn’t been very long since your previous intimate interaction with San, and you had noticed that he was much more keen on expanding and expressing his sexual interests with you. He was more clingy, and confident, and was constantly finding ways to express his sweet affections towards you, especially in the confines of your shared apartment.

He asked questions constantly about your own sexual interests, which you found both cute and endearing as most times (all the time) he’d stutter and get all flustered at the thought of even saying such crude things aloud so casually.

So today, when he asked you about your own self-pleasure experiences, you weren’t entirely caught off guard.

You both laid in the living room, sprawled on the couch, your head in his lap as his fingers softly scratched against your scalp. He was focused on something on his phone as you felt your eyes get heavier with the comfort of having your hair played with, the noise from the television being the right amount of white noise to allow you to doze off peacefully. San set his phone down on the arm rest, leaning forward slightly to get a glimpse of you.

“Babe, you still up?” San spoke softly, removing his hand from your head and bringing it to caress your cheek. You hummed, snuggling your head into his lap to get more comfortable.

“Hm… yeah, I’m up,” you muttered, your eyes finally blinking slowly before you shut them completely. You felt him lean back against the couch, hand still resting on your cheek, his thumb slowly running back and forth.

“Well if you’re up, like up up- awake up, then I have a question. Hm… something I’m curious about.” San spoke slowly, as if he was thinking of the right way to word his sentences so as to not come across a certain way. You nodded, having enough sense to know that your boyfriend wanted to talk to you seriously, forcing your eyes open as much as the sleepiness would allow.

“I’m up, I'm up… what is it, hm?” A silence followed as you waited for San to speak, you shifted in his lap so you were looking up right at him. his eyes focused on the television, but in a way that was zoned out and not actually paying attention to the content that was displayed on the screen.

“San?” your attention on him completely now, taking note of the way his eyebrows were furrowed together as his hand had slipped from your cheek amidst your shifting and was now lying comfortably across your neck. Hearing your voice snapped him out of his little daydream as he looked down out at you, the tips of his ears catching a blush.

“Oh, yeah. Um… I was just curious about- like- how do I say- uh,” his voice trailed off as he averted his attention back to the television. You waited expectantly, having an idea where this conversation might be leading to.

“Go on,” you spoke softly.

“Have you ever… touched yourself?” San whispered, as if speaking too loudly would get him scolded by the gods above. You couldn’t help but laugh, getting up from his lap and sitting up again on the couch to face him. Sleep was no longer something on your mind as your boyfriend never failed to catch your attention in conversations like this. He pouted, avoiding your eyesight and fidgeting with his fingers in his lap.

“Sorry baby, I don't mean to laugh. You’re just too cute when you get like this,” you leaned forward to place a quick kiss on his cheek before you leaned back and answered him properly.

“Yes, I have touched myself before. Who’s asking?” you teased.

San shot you a quick glance before facing forward again, shifting to sit up straighter. He cleared his throat before speaking once again.

“With a toy? Have you- uh- ever touched yourself with a toy?” His cheeks flushed as he moved his hands higher in his lap, crossing his legs. Your eyebrows raised, a slight smile forming on your face. You scooted closer to him, laying your head on his shoulder as you wrapped your arms around his bicep.

“Yes and no. I had like... one of those little bullet vibrators a long ass time ago that Heejin got me as a joke but ended up throwing that shit away ‘cause… well… it was a bullet vibrator,” you laughed, leaning your head further into his space.

“After that, it crossed my mind to maybe get actual toys. Like a vibrating dildo or a butt plug or something but it’s hard finding good sites that sell that shit discreetly and adult shops are just so… I feel too awkward,” your voice trailed, looking up to see San looking back down at you, waiting for you to finish your thoughts.

“You know how you see those videos of coffee shop baristas and they’re like ‘what your coffee order says about you’ or ‘what you look like based on your coffee order’ and it's a bunch of stereotypes that are lowkey kinda true? Yeah, I feel like that’s what would happen if I went to a sex shop. I mean, I think my kinks are pretty tame compared to extremists- at least I think they are- but… still it’s just so awkward,” you physically cringed. 

San nodded, laughing lightly at the comparison you gave between coffee shops and sex shops. You reached up to place your hand on his cheek and turned him to face you. 

“Are you asking me because you wanna get one?” You smiled mischievously.

“Well, you see, I was asking ‘cause, you know-“ San fumbled his words.

“We can if you want… I don't really mind. Is that what you were looking at on your phone?”

San nodded, reaching for his phone again, and stealing a quick glance at you before unlocking it and leaning into you so you both had a clear view of his screen.

The next hour was spent between looking at options before deciding on a generic vibrating dildo, deciding that you could upgrade later if need be. The estimated delivery time was said to be a week, so to your surprise at checking the mail room downstairs three days later with a package, was exciting to say the least.

On the way back to your room, you pulled your phone out, opening your chat with San.

y/n: bb look!

y/n: 1 file attachment

y/n: it just came in the mail... ;-)

y/n: tbh i'm surprised it got here so fast?? then again it says it came from that one town we drove thru on the way to my parents so ig it wasn’t that far??

-

“Hold on guys, gimme one sec,” San panted, breaking away from his friends and their current dance session.

“Aw shit, Mr. loverboy over here gotta answer to his girl,” Yunho teased, nudging Wooyoung as they both laughed amongst themselves.

San shot them both a teasing glare before picking up his phone and opening your messages. As he was getting ready to hit send, another message from you was delivered and soon after a photo attachment.

y/n: 1 file attachment

y/n: san omg

y/n: why does this thing look huge

y/n: its kinda cute tho good job picking it out

y/n: baby hurry up and get home plsplsplsplpslspsl need u nowww

“Whatcha looking at?” Wooyoung chirped, swinging his arm around San's shoulders and leaning towards his phone. Before San could push Wooyoung away, he was already opening his mouth.

“Damn! Is that a dildo? Since when did you get all freaky on us, man? Coulda sworn you were still a virgin!” Wooyoung grabbed his phone, clicking on the image you sent. Your hand was delicately wrapped around the base of the dildo, which was an opaque purple shade (color choice courtesy of San). Your hands did the toy no justice, because you were right- it did in fact look huge.

“Ay man, gimme my phone,” San said in his most assertive voice he could muster, not even bothering to panic or make frantic moves at Wooyoung- knowing how his friend was. It didn't help that his cheeks were tinted with a light blush and he could feel his cock stirring in his sweats at the thought of you begging for him to come home so you guys could get play around. 

“Hey, what happened?” Yunho came up to San and Wooyoung, looking between the two men. San’s phone pinged again with another message from you and Wooyoung took a quick glance, smirking, before handing the phone back to San.

“Well, our Sannie boy here seems to have gotten a bit mischievous these days, Yunho. I think we should wrap up practice early today, let him get back home to his girl,” Wooyoung said as he looked back at a confused Yunho.

San looked down at his phone quickly, wondering what could’ve possibly gotten Wooyoung to say such a response.

y/n: 1 file attachment

y/n: can’t wait to play w my sweet boy <3

The picture was of you already in bed, one of San’s shirts with some cute but simple black lace panties. Your knees were bent and the dildo was laying between your thighs as if to make it appear like you were wearing a strap-on.

San's eyes went wide, his ears feeling hot, and his stomach flipping knowing that one of his friends was well-aware about the kind of activities you and him were planning on having tonight.

“Oh yeah? I was actually planning on cutting practice early anyways. Mingi texted me asking if I could stop by the studio for some feedback on some of his and Joong’s songs for that showcase in a couple weeks,” Yunho eyed San carefully, who was staring at his phone screen intently. Wooyoung laughed as he caught Yunho's confused expression towards San.

“Alright, well I'm out then! I'll catch y’all later! I gotta meet up with Jongho and Yeosang for one of  our CompSci classes,” Wooyoung headed for the door, grabbing his jacket and bag from the rack. “Oh and San, one more thing,” Wooyoung turned around, waiting for San to look up at him and properly acknowledge him. San's attention averted to Wooyoung, waiting for him to speak.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn't do... and trust me, there’s not a lot out there I wouldn't,” he shot San a wink before slipping out the door.

“That guy, man,” Yunho laughed, shaking his head.

“Well, I'm gonna head out? Just text in the group chat when you wanna meet up again, you know when I'm free. Or let Seonghwa know,” San spoke quietly, his mind still reeling on the fact that you were home alone right now, horny, waiting for him. 

The feeling of his cock being constrained tightly against the band of his boxers turned into an aching sensation- god, he just wanted to be with you already.

“Yeah, I'll text you later,” the two men nodded at each other. San made his way to the door, and just before he had the chance to exit, Yunho called out to him.

“Ya!” 

San turned around, looking expectantly at Yunho.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn't do.” Yunho smiled, waving San off.

“Shut up, Yunho.” San laughed, giving him the middle finger and shaking his head.

And with that, San slipped out of the practice room, making his way to his car.

-

You were laid in bed, scrolling mindlessly between social media outlets, distracting yourself enough as you waited for San to get home from dance practice. 

[new notifications]

my bb: on my way home now, my love

my bb: ur kinda insane btw

my bb: sending pictures like that while im out

my bb: the guys ended practice early, had some other stuff they needed to do

my bb: ill be home in 5

You smiled reading the messages, excited to see your boyfriend after you’d both been busy with classes and any other extracurricular activities you guys were involved in, but even more so knowing that you were going to be able to try out your new toy.

When San had arrived home, you were sprawled out on your stomach, a blanket draped over your lower half, the dildo and your phone momentarily forgotten. The faint sound of music flooded the room, your eyes closed as you quietly sang along.

San was true to his word because 5 minutes later he was entering your room, jacket and shoes already off, pulling his shirt over his head and discarding it to the chair tucked under your desk. The bed dipped as you felt a hand lay across your back, opening your eyes to welcome San laying down next to you, shirtless, in the bottoms he wore to practice and sweaty hair.

“Hi,” you spoke softly, shifting to face San as a hand reached up to cup his cheek. Your thumb ran along the skin, his eyes fluttering at your soft touch. 

“How was your practice, hm?”

“It was fine. Probably one of our better ones in a while so I’m kinda pissed it ended earlier than I expected, but I'm home now so I’m not complaining.” He finished his thought with a kiss to the tip of your nose as his hand was rubbing up and down along your back.

“Well, I'm glad your home ‘cause that means I get to take all your attention.”

“Hm, so where is it? Where’s the- uh, you know…”

You smiled at San getting flustered over his words, leaning back to feel around the bed before you finally lifted the blanket to reveal the cute little toy. You reached for it, putting it between you and San as you looked back at him expectantly.

“Right here! Isn’t it cute?” 

You rotated the toy in your hands, there wasn’t much to admire apart from the color and thickness and the handle with the buttons at the bottom. San’s cheeks were flushed as his hands traveled to your waist, gripping firmly.

“Yeah.. yeah it is,” he nervously laughed. “Did you... already put batteries in it?”

“Mhm, but I haven’t tested it out yet. I was waiting for you to get home.” 

You pressed the tip of the toy into San’s pectoral, slightly shifting your hand around to press the power button at one of the lower settings, a faint buzzing echoing in your ears. San began to breathe heavier, his grip on your waist loosening as his eyes screwed shut.

“What… what are you doing?” San sighed, eyes opening slightly as he looked down at you.

“Do you trust me?” your hand stilled.

San nodded. 

“Wanna hear you say it, baby. Do you trust me?”

“Yes, fuck, I trust you. I trust you so much, please." San's eyes screwed shut again. He didn’t know what he was begging for, he just wanted something. Since he’d left the studio, he’d been fighting down his boner the whole ride home, wanting to wait for you to play with him. It felt as though every bone in him was going to snap if he didn’t get some form of release, and fast.

You used your free hand to lightly push him on his back, soon adjusting yourself to swing your leg over his waist. You leaned forward, pressing a light kiss against his lips before you rested your forehead against his.

You had nudged your nose against his softly, a butterfly kiss.

“Then lemme take care of you, sweet boy.” 

San let out a low moan, bucking his hips against you. You leaned back, pressing your weight against his cock, his chest heaving up and down quickly, arms tense at his sides. You let out a breathy laugh at his nervous reaction, suddenly feeling your own chest tighten with nerves. This was really happening, huh?

“Just relax, baby. I got you, okay?” You ran the toy that was still vibrating slightly down the middle of his chest, stopping right above his naval. 

“If you don’t like something, promise you’ll tell me, yeah?”

“Yes, yes, Y/N I’ll tell you, just- just please-” you looked below where your crotch was on top of San. He still had his practice sweats on, his cock straining so hard in the confinement.

“Is it okay if I take these off you?” 

You switched the vibrator off before tossing it to the side, getting up to stand at San’s feet which were hanging off the end of the bed. A quick yes was enough confirmation to slide his sweats off, once off your hand reached to his briefs, stopping just as your fingers hooked on either side of the band. 

“These too?” 

Another quick yes from San allowed him to be laying completely naked in front of you. His cock sprung, slapping against his naval, red and leaking with pre-cum- begging for some friction.

You crawled back up the bed, hands resting on either side of San’s head. You reached to his forehead to brush the hair that was beginning to curtain his eyes, feeling the sweat that was starting to form at his hairline. You leaned down, pressing your lips to the spot between his eyebrows and leaving a trail of kisses down to his cheeks and jawline before making a final round to his lips. His arms wrapped around your back, pulling you flush against his chest as his tongue slipped in your mouth.

You both stayed like that for god knows how long, lazily making out and groping one another, enjoying each other’s presence to the fullest. San pulled away from you, looking up at you with swollen, wet lips and flushed cheeks.

“Baby, I love kissing you so much, you know that, but my dick is so hard right now that I feel like I'm about to pass out,” he whispered, his hands pushing your shirt up and then making their way down to the swell of your ass.

You laughed, lifting yourself off of him to sit yourself in his lap but he stopped you before you could get yourself comfortable and situated.

“Wait! Wait... um- can you- would you mind taking these off?” San asked sheepishly, fingers hooking ever so lightly in the waistband. 

You felt yourself clench around nothing, you and San hadn’t been naked in front of each other like this. Not in such a lewd position at least, so the thought had your mind and body raging with nerves and excitement. You moved quickly to rid your panties from your legs, your essence following along and smearing on the inside of your thighs. San's eyes followed your movements and in the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of his dick twitching against his stomach. 

You climbed back on the bed, legs on either side of San’s hips, lowering yourself so the underside of San's cock was wedged between your pussy.

“Fuck,” San whined, hands finding purchasing on your waist again and making their way under the front of your shirt to grope at your bra-less chest. 

You were embarrassed at how turned on you were, but before you even had enough time to register that, your hips moved along San’s length. Your slick made your movements easier, stopping yourself just enough that your clit teased against the head of his cock. You felt San’s index finger flick against your hardened nipple, your hips stuttering as you let out a breathy moan.

“Baby, you’re gonna be the death of me you know that?” You moaned again as San brought his thumb up to pinch your nipple. “So cute, so good for me. Always treat me so good, fuck, got such a pretty cock too.” 

You reached to your side, grabbing the dildo and turning it on low. San's eyes followed your movement, you pressed the tip of the toy to slit San's cock. His body jolted under you, his mouth fell lax as his stomach tensed. Your free hand scratched lightly at his stomach, your other pressed the toy harder against the slit of his cock as you began to softly grind your clit along his length.

“Oh- oh my god- fuck,” San’s body shook as he let out a string of profanities. “It feels too good, y/n. I think I'm gonna come- fuckfuckfuck.”

“Go ahead, baby. You deserve it, go ahead and make a mess.” 

You moved your hips against his length faster, loving the way his stomach and thighs were flexing underneath you.

“I’m coming, oh fuck, oh-” San’s arms flew over his face as he let out a long whine. 

Hot, milky spurts painted his stomach and chest beautifully, a little bit shooting up underneath his chin and along his neck. you slowed your hips, taking in how fucked out your boyfriend looked like this.

You turned off the toy, setting it down next to you as you reached up to San, removing his arms from his face. His eyes were barely open, his whole face flushed as his bangs were matted against his forehead.

“Hey, you okay?” You whispered softly, planting a soft kiss to his lips. San hummed in confirmation, a soft smile forming on his face. 

“Good, lemme clean you up real quick.” You leaned back, swiping your finger at some of the mess on San's stomach and bringing it to your lips. To your surprise, San’s cock twitched ever so slightly, still red and half-hard.

You got up to grab the towel from your desk chair, walking back and softly wiping at San’s stomach, chest, and neck. Once finished, you settled in bed next to him, laying on your side.

“You didn’t come?” 

You shook your head no as your hand reached up to play with his hair.

“But don’t worry about it. Tonight was about you, okay?” 

San pouted, and in a blink of an eye he was hovering over you. both of his hands planted on either side of your head, his half-hard cock weighing down against your mound.

“Lemme take care of you... I wanna play with you too.” 

He sat back on his heels, his hands moving to your knees and spreading your legs apart so your pussy was on full display. Your breath hitched as you saw him reach for the toy, his hands twisting it around to maneuver the buttons on. The buzzing sound filled the room again and soon you felt a pressure against your clit.

Moaning, you looked down where San’s hand lay between your legs holding the toy. He was unsure what to do, it was clear on his face. You reached down to wrap your hand around his wrist.

“Here. Like this.” 

You moved the toy along your folds; San shifted on the bed so he was now laying on his stomach, his face adjacent from your pussy, teeth between his lips as he watched intently how you moved his hand around to pleasure yourself.

He turned the setting up a notch with his free hand, before moving it to grab underneath your thigh and placing it over his shoulder.

“Is it okay if I put- hm... put it in?” He asked, placing a quick kiss on your thigh before he turned his attention back to your fluttering hole.

“Yes, please baby, please put it in.”

You moaned as his hand moved the toy just right and the tip of the toy prodded at your entrance. The grip San had on your thigh tightened as the toy pushed its way in slowly. 

You couldn’t see, too enthralled in your own pleasure, but San’s hips had begun to rut against the bed. He’d been imagining his own cock in place of the toy, easing into you, stretching you out, making you shake, maybe even cry with how good it all fucking felt. He was eager to make you climax, so he continued to push the toy into you, giving the bed beneath him a particularly hard thrust as well.

Your walls fluttered against the toy, it’d been awhile since you’d felt so full. You’d touched yourself before but the width and length of your fingers was far different compared to how the toy felt inside you. Even far more different when it was your lover who was fucking you with it.

Your hand slid up your shirt, grabbing at your breasts as the other went to pull at San’s hair.

“Feels so full.” You moaned, your hips moving at the same rhythm of San’s hand. 

“Wish it was your cock making me feel good, want it. Want it so bad, baby.” 

You were close, so fucking close. 

San began to push the toy deeper in you all while kissing and biting at your thigh.

“Fuck- faster.” 

The grip on San’s hair tightened. The tension you felt in your belly ready to snap at any given moment.

“Like that?” San whispered, his hand pushing the toy in and out of you.

“Yes- don’t stop. please, please baby don’t fucking stop. I’m gonna come-” You squirmed along the bed, trying to move your hips along with the perfect rhythm that San had created. 

You felt him press your hips down to still you, his head moving forward as you felt his lips place a feathery kiss to your clit before giving it a harsh suck. You finally snapped.

“Oh fuck I’m coming- fuck! I’m coming.” You whined as your legs tried closing in around San to snap shut.

San didn’t let up on the sucking, still holding the toy deep inside you trying to make the most of your orgasm. He moaned against your clit, releasing from you with a faint pop and leaning his head against your thigh.

You looked down at him as he pulled to toy out from you, his eyes admiring how wet you’d made it. As if his curiosity got the best of him, he brought the toy to his mouth and wrapped his lips around the tip. His eyes met yours as his cheeks hollowed out, pushing the toy further in before pulling out and licking his lips clean. He made his way back up to you, putting all his body weight on you and nuzzling his face into your neck, letting out a sigh of content.

“You taste good, babe, wanna eat you out next time,” San whispered in your ear, his tongue playfully licking at your earlobe.

“I don’t know how you do it.” 

San lifted his head from your neck and peppered kisses all over your cheek.

“Do what?” He pushed himself off you, grabbing the towel you had used on him earlier and pushing your legs apart so he could gently wipe you clean. You used as much strength as you had left to bring yourself up to rest on your elbows, eyeing him.

“Drive me crazy, that’s what.” You laughed as your eyes trailed down to where San was laying earlier.

“Hey what’s that?” You pointed at the rather large spot on the comforter, San looked to where you were pointing, his eyes going wide.

“Holy shit… no fucking way.” Your jaw dropped in disbelief. “You came again? On the bed?”

“Well... yeah…” San mumbled, tossing the towel to the pile of discarded clothes.

You laughed, crawling your way across the bed to meet your boyfriend, arms wrapping around his neck as his naturally fell around your hips.

“You’re a naughty thing, you know that? Are you sure you’re a virgin?” You teased, no real malice or doubt in your voice. 

You leaned forward to kiss the tip of his nose, catching the way his lips curved into a small smile. 

“How ‘bout we run a shower and we can worry about the sheets later, hm?” San nodded at your suggestion, lowering himself to grab the back of your thighs before lifting you up. 

Your legs wrapped around his waist as he began walking to the bathroom. 

“Hey,” you spoke softly. He stopped in his tracks, moving his head to face you, waiting attentively.

“Just wanted to say I love you,” you kissed him, feeling him smile against your lips, the feeling never getting old. He pulled away from you, resting his forehead against yours.

“I love you more, pretty girl.”

-

The last time you and San had messed around was a lot farther than you both had gotten with each other, and the more that you guys explored and experimented with each other’s bodies, the more both of you found yourselves constantly looking for ways to feed each other affection.

San was aware of your sexual experience and at times when he was too lost in his head, he’d often feel insecure and wonder if the other people you’d been with were better- in any aspect really.

However, you constantly reassured him otherwise and for that he was more than thankful. Which led him to his current predicament.

You weren’t at the apartment, having had to run some errands for the day and San insisted on making time to hang out. He’d woken up too late that you’d already left to go do the things you needed to get done, so you suggested he just wait at home until you finished. Ever so quick to please, he found himself doing random chores around the place to keep himself occupied.

Today was laundry day, he dumped the basket of clothes on the bed that you had taken forever to fold (one of his little pet peeves but, still, he didn’t mind picking up the slack every now and then because he knew how busy you got.)

He hadn’t realized that the current load to switch from the laundry was your delicates (he zoned out quite a lot when he was left to his own devices), and for whatever reason he was feeling himself become more and more embarrassed as the seconds passed.

It was just panties, he didn’t know why he’d felt so shy about it. He’d seen you in your panties plenty of times, even if you were just lounging around in them. You were his partner, there was really no need to get all worked up, right?

No, there definitely was. He felt like a pervert feeling himself warm up at the thought of messing around with your intimate pieces of clothing without you here. But that feeling didn’t stop him from doing what he was about to do next. 

He kicked his shoes off, making his way to your bed and laying amongst your sheets. Flipping over on his stomach, he buried his face in your pillow letting out a soft sigh. It smelled like you, sweet and safe, mixed with the stench of clean linens. He laid like that a little longer, the feeling of sleep trying to grasp him and almost winning. It wasn't until he shifted around to lay on his back that he noticed the tent forming in between his legs.

“Jesus…” he muttered to himself, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He was definitely more in love with you then he’d thought. You were always so understanding… so willing to let him explore his sexuality comfortably. but also so independent and level-headed, you just had so many qualities to you that he absolutely loved and made him feel loved and maybe that’s why just the thought of you drove him mad and never failed to awaken something deep inside of him. His heart swelled up each time you crossed his mind and for that he knew he was truly deep in some shit. 

For fuck’s sake- he was getting hard just being in your most intimate spaces- without you even here next to him!

He closed his eyes, hands fisting the sheets lightly. He didn’t want to get off right now, at least not until you got back or something. But the idea of also getting off in your bed, while you weren’t there next to him was also kind of exciting. He laid still for a few minutes, mentally giving himself a time frame to see if his erection would go away and if it softened- then that was that; if it didn’t… well he’d cross that bridge when he got there.

And much to his surprise, it didn’t soften. Getting up from your bed, he paced around your room. He was really contemplating the idea of getting off, wondering if he should text you and ask; you know- for the sake of being polite. But that idea sounded stupid and truthfully, he couldn’t bring himself to ask, not wanting to face any judgment you might have (little to his knowledge, you found it hot that San had his little perv-y moments- but you weren’t going to tell him that). 

Amongst his pacing, his hip bumped into one of your dresser drawers that had been left slightly open amidst your morning routine.

“Ah- fuck!” San grabbed his hip, rubbing harshly to soothe the pain. He looked down at the drawer he bumped into, noticing a mixture of patterns of lace and cotton intertwining with each other. His curiosity never failed to get the best of him, he reached for the drawer, hooking his fingers around the edge and pulling it open, bracing himself.

He’d already known what to expect when he opened the drawer quite truthfully, but god did he still feel a little shameful when he felt his cock twitch in his sweats looking at your panties that laid messily folded in the drawer below him.

He reached for the contents hesitantly, his eyes catching on a pair he remembered you wearing for one of your date nights. It was a black lace piece, the pattern soft and elegant like you, he thought to himself, with a tiny little pink rose placed atop a bow. that night you’d worn them, you and San were leaving a restaurant when your shoelaces had come undone- and ever the gentleman, San had offered to tie it for you. Insisting that he didn’t want you to bend down and worry about your skirt riding up or you flashing anyone, and maybe he’d taken a quick look up your skirt when you weren’t looking (you definitely noticed) but that was a story for another day.

Once he grabbed the panties, he noticed that the lace was a lot smoother in his hands than he thought, he wondered if you’d ever bought lingerie for him- or for your other past partners. He shook the thought from his head, not wanting to think about you being with other people right now- past or not.

His mind wandered as he remembered the first time you laid in front of him, in his shirt and panties, his hot come laying on your mound as you looked completely fucked out. San’s grip tightened around your panties as he debated this dilemma internally.

“Fuck it,” he muttered to himself as he closed the drawer with his other hand and made his way to your bed. He moved around, so that his body was half sitting up and half laying down against your sheets. If he was going to do this, he wanted to at least be comfortable.

 His cock was throbbing and it was starting to be painful, that familiar wet patch seeping its way through his underwear and sweats as if welcoming him for indulging in his sinful desires.

He bunched his shirt to his chest and pulled his bottoms down to just above his knees; his cock slapping against his naval, red and shiny.

He let out a soft moan at the contact, mind turning to mush as the smell of your sheets was making him feel so… safe. He gripped himself at the base, bringing his other hand that had your panties to his nose. his hand flinched, his thoughts making him second guess himself one last time before he inhaled deeply, tightening his grip around his cock.

“Fuck,” he whined, inhaling your panties one last time before bringing it to the tip of his cock and slowly wrapping the fabric around himself. The feeling of the lace was different and for a split second his mind entertained the idea of what it’d be like to wear them while he got himself off to the thought of you, but he was too desperate now- the thought leaving his mind just as fast as it had entered his head. 

He palmed the head of his cock, the lace rubbing against his slit, while his other hand tugged at his balls.

He felt dirty, filthy… utterly sinful. But he didn’t care as he kept stroking himself as he remembered the blissful look of you coming hard on that toy you’d both picked out. The hand that was tugging himself found his way up his stomach, lightly raking his nails against the skin before sliding under his shirt and stopping at his hardened nipple.

“Baby, please,” he whined softly. It was useless to beg, you weren’t there of course but he couldn’t help himself. He pictured himself between your legs again, this time having you ride his face. Using him however you wanted, his tongue prodding against your hole as he sucked and sucked and sucked against your clit. 

He flicked his nipple before giving it a quick pinch, his hips jerking off the bed against his panty-covered hand. He moved his hand free from his chest, bringing it down to his cock so both of his hands were wrapped around his shaft. Your panties covered his tip completely as he began to rut his hips upwards, both hands moving along with his hips.

He was close, so fucking close and it was all happening to quick.

“Fuck,” San groaned, “fuckfuckfuck,” his hips moved faster as his imagination kept going on and on with different scenarios of how he wanted to ravish you. Images of him fucking you in every position you could imagine, ran through his head. 

But the one that sent him over the edge was you on top, riding him dangerously slow, playing with your tits. In his head, you’d reached down and grabbed his chin, asking him so sweetly to look at you and open his mouth- and he did. you’d lean over him, letting go of his chin before making him stick his tongue out and grabbing the tip of it with your fingers and holding it firmly, leaning down and whispering obscene things to him- about him.

How he was so good for you, letting you fuck him dumb and never even imagining that he’d let you take control of him like this.

“Oh my fucking god I’m gonna come, please, oh my god,” San whined. “Wanna be good for you, so fucking good baby, please, feels so fucking good.” 

His hips stuttered as his eyes closed shut, a deep moan coming from his chest. He opened his eyes enough to look down, he felt like he couldn’t stop coming, his come seeping through your panties and sliding down his fisted hands.

For his own, twisted pleasure, he continued to stroke himself. Swiping at some of his come and bringing it to his slit, running his index finger back and forth. His body shivered, he wondered to himself if he could come again- Maybe if he really tried, but he knew as long as you ran through his head, anything was possible.

However, he was snapped out of his post-orgasm daze when his phone began to ring. He searched the bed looking for the sound, finally grabbing his phone and seeing your name flash against the screen. His heart pounded against his chest as he hit the green button.

“Hey, babe, what’s up?” He cleared his throat in hopes of not sounding too… off.

“Hey, was just calling ‘cause you weren’t answering my texts- just wanted to make sure you were good.” 

You mumbled something after that he couldn’t make out, hearing a faint honking noise in the background. 

“Anyways, I'm on my way back to the apartment, but wanted to see if you needed me to stop and get anything? You hungry?”

“No, I'm okay, just drive safe. I miss you.”

You laughed.

“I miss you, too, baby. You okay, though? You sound kinda off?”

“No- yeah, yeah I’m fine! Was just dozing off waiting for you, s’all.”

“Mhm… right.” 

Your voice dragged, not entirely convinced. 

“Okay, well, I’m not that far so I'll see you in a sec. Love you!”

“I love you more,” and with that you both hung up.

San set his phone down, laying his head back against your pillows as he looked up at the ceiling. He felt himself soften in his hands, the lace of the panties laying across more of his lower half. He entertained the thought more adequately this time, wondering what it’d be like to wear something like this, how would he look if you fucked him stupid while he wore-

“What the fuck?” he mumbled to himself, shaking his head as if to rid himself physically from the thought. He got up, looking for something to clean himself with as he tried to figure out where to put your now-stained panties.

Once that was decided, he laid back in your bed. Shuffling under the covers and recapping everything that had happened within the last hour. He shut his eyes briefly and on cue, the door beeped, signaling you had just gotten home.

He laughed to himself both in disbelief and embarrassment, you were really making him question everything. But for some reason, he didn’t mind as long as it was you.

-

It had been a few days after you had run your errands and had come back home to San lying around (quite suspiciously might you add) in your bed.

You didn't want to press him on it, but that didn’t keep you from having your own suspicions. Letting whatever it was that he was hiding, to let it be. Which you figured it couldn't have been that bad to begin with regardless, just that he had maybe been a bit... mischievous.

But it was the thought of him being alone in your room for that long, and knowing him, he intentionally or unintentionally snooped around.

Today was a laundry day though, you had grabbed your hamper and dumped the clothes on your floor so you could separate the delicates and the colors.

Amidst your separating, you noticed the black lace pair you'd worn ages ago, on one of the first dates that you and San had gone on.

You guys were walking back to the car when he had stopped you, letting you know your shoelace had come undone. Just as you were about to bend down and tie your shoe, he stopped you, insisting you shouldn't because you were wearing a skirt and he didn't want you to be uncomfortable. As he fell to his knees, you shifted your legs slightly, moving one foot out so he could tie your shoe easier. In doing so, your skirt raised, allowing your underwear to be seen. San's head turned, taking a quick peek and trying to memorize the lace pattern that was laying across your skin. You definitely noticed, turning your head away and smiling to yourself.

You reached for the pair, wondering to yourself when it was that you had worn them, dropping them once you realized that the pair had faint, white residue. Your eyebrows furrowed as you thought of all possibilities as to why your underwear would have dry cum on them.

Did... San...? You wondered, before thinking of ways in which you should ask him about it, or even if you wanted to. You decided to leave it be for now, ready to be over with your daily chores for the day.

-

[new notifications]

y/n: babe~

y/n: r u ready

y/n: im abt to be there in 5 :] 

San's phone buzzed from his shelf as he finished gathering up the rest of his items for your guy's trip. It was your first trip together, and he wasn't too sure about you, but he was definitely excited because this was finally going to be it. 

You had both talked about finally going all the way together, and San insisted at least creating a little world away from the craziness of your everyday lives so he could fully enjoy you. You thought it was sweet and honestly, he was the only boyfriend you had who was so adamant on constantly trying to create the perfect atmosphere to show his deep love for you, and it made your heart swell every single time.

His phone buzzed again, he glanced down at his watch, seeing a new message from you saying you were here. He walked over to the shelf where his phone was, grabbing it along with his weekend bag and heading out.

You waited patiently in the car, your thumbs tapping against the steering wheel to the rhythm of the music playing in the background. You snapped out of your mindless daze when you felt a knock against the window, you turned your head, meeting San's eyes as he pointed to the back of your car, signaling you to open the trunk.

Moments later he was sliding in the passenger seat next to you, leaning over the console and placing a soft kiss on your cheek.

"Hi baby," he said as he leaned back and hastened his seat belt over his chest, securing it in the buckle.

You smiled, "Hi, how'd you sleep?"

"Good, I think," he reached for your hand as you put the car in drive, listening idly to where the GPS was telling you to go. "Missed you, was excited all night for this trip," he brought your hand up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss.

You hummed, "You're awfully affectionate today, you really missed me that much, huh?"

San let out a light laugh, "I miss you everyday."

A comfortable silence shortly fell between the both of you as you continued to drive.

-

You pulled up to the Airbnb, which San had reserved for the holiday weekend. Calm waves hit the shore, and the sound of birds chirping echoed softly in the distance.

You put the car in park, nudging San slightly to get his attention.

"Look," you nodded your head in front of you. "Isn't it beautiful?"

"Wow," San leaned forward in his seat, his mouth open in awe. "It is... can't believe we get to spend the holiday here."

"C'mon, let's go check it out," you smiled before stepping out of the car.

You made your way to the house, San following behind. You opened the door, taking note of the spacious interior.

You felt San's arms wrap around you, him leaning down and placing soft kisses along your cheek before making his way up to your ear.

"All this space just for us, hm," he poked his tongue out, laying a soft lick against your lobe. "Wanna take you on every. Single. Surface."

You leaned back against him, your eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of him being so close.

"Yeah yeah, you can after we get settled in," you hummed, pushing yourself off him and making your way further into the house. You set your keys on the counter, taking one last look at the Airbnb before turning back to San and making your way to the door. As you were about to pass him, your hands tapped at his chest before pulling him with you.

"C'mon, you nasty boy, let's unload the car," You said, a light laugh from San following shortly after.

-

You stepped out the restroom, your robe hanging carelessly around your body as you tried drying off your hair as best as you could.

"Babe, I still don't know why we can't just shower together," San grumbled from the bed.

"'Cause," you mumbled, making your way to your suitcase. "I still get shy."

You rummaged through your clothes, looking for some undergarments and a lounge shirt. Quickly slipping them on, your eyes caught a peek at that specific pair you brought with you. You turned around to quickly glance at San, seeing that he was sprawled on the bed, shirtless and in sweats. His arms were crossed over his face as he mindlessly sung to himself. You reached down for the pair, finally turning around and tossing them onto San's chest.

His body gently flinched at the contact in surprise, before he moved his arms down and looked at what was laying on his chest. His body froze.

"Y'know I'd been meaning to ask you if those looked familiar," You said as you walked over to the bed, climbing your way up to seat yourself in San's lap. He looked up at you, his ears and face turning flush as he hummed in response.

"I was doing my laundry before the trip and well," You reached for the underwear before dragging it across his stomach. "I like to separate my delicates and colors and such... and I couldn't help but notice those were dirty."

"I also couldn't remember the last time I had worn them, at least recently. Do you know what they were dirty with, San?" 

He looked up at you briefly, his cheeks flushed and eyes full of guilt. Despite that, you felt him growing hard underneath you. you didn't give him a chance to answer before leaning down next to his ear and whispering, "They were dirty with someone's cum, baby... can you believe it?"

He let out a soft groan, his hands reaching for your waist before making their way down to your ass and gently groping you.

"Fine, fine. I'm guilty, you got me." His eyes squeezed shut as he gripped your ass more rough, before rolling his hips up into you.

You gasped, your chest pressing flush against San. "I wasn't expecting you to admit it so fast."

"Yeah, I know. I'm embarrassed, but right now I don't care. Just want you to touch me," His hands removed themselves from your ass before bringing them up to the back of your neck and pulling you into a kiss.

The kiss was slow and lazy, your hands making their way to lay gently on top of San's chest.

"Mm, babe," your voice muffled against San's lips, he hummed, pressing his lips harder and grabbing your ass tighter. You managed to pull away, pressing your forehead against his, opening your eyes slightly to see his eyes still shut.

"San," you whispered, pulling away completely to look down at him from being seated in his lap. You took note of the way his body stayed flush, the light sheen of sweat glistening in the dim light, his pink swollen lips, to the way his sweats were snug around his hard cock. 

"Why don't you..." Your hands slowly moved around his chest, the tips of your fingers grazing his skin like a feather, before stopping at the buds of his nipples. "Why don't you show me how you made a mess on my panties in the first place, huh?" Your fingers moved on their own, lightly pinching the buds between them and giving them a soft tug, testing the waters.

San moaned, his shoulders squirming against the mattress, "S-show you? Yeah, yeah I can do that, j-just lemme- ah," He opened his eyes to look up at you, the glossy look he had during moments like this never failing to make you weak. He lightly tapped your ass, signaling you to get off him, in which you complied. You shuffled along the bed until your back was leaning against the headboard, your shirt scrunched to your waist leaving the top of your thighs exposed. San moved next to you, moving himself around the bed until he managed to squirm his way to lay between your legs, his back pressed against your stomach and his head resting against your shoulder.

"You..." San's hands found their way to lay on the sides of your thighs, gently squeezing. "You said to show you, so I just thought... that maybe this would be... the best view I could give you." San's voice barely above a whisper, his head turning to look up at you. You nodded, looking back at him, leaning in to give him a quick kiss, your legs bending to place your feet on his waistband, doing your best attempt at trying to slide his sweats down.

His hands wrapped your ankles, leaning forward and giving each one a swift kiss before gently placing them on either side of his hips and laying back against you. He shimmied his way out his sweats before kicking them to the edge of the bed, his naked body on full display before you.

"It feels nicer like this," San said, his voice having a gravel edge to it. "When I was in your bed, I didn't have the luxury to be naked like I am now.." his cock looked angry laying against his stomach, beads of pre-cum smearing against the tight skin of his lower stomach. You stared in awe, before looking briefly at San's face, his hair falling into his eyes. You reached a hand to lay in his hair, swiping the hair upwards and running your nails gently back and forth against his scalp. San sighed, his cock jolting against his stomach, his head following the caresses of your hand.

"Y/n... you know," San’s hands clenched repeatedly against his sides before reaching down to wrap around his length. “There was so much that I was thinking about when I was laying in your bed.”

His hands massaged his length slowly, occasionally reaching down to tug at his balls before continuing his ministrations on himself.

You felt the wetness growing between your legs, your eyes skimming every part of his body displayed before you. the sheen of sweat forming at the base of his neck and trailing down the wide expanse of his chest. Your hands moved to his shoulders, gently caressing down his arms.

You hummed waiting for him to continue, shifting your hips as best as you could in your current position.

“You were on top, riding my face, and I was letting you do whatever you wanted to me, it just- ah- felt so good... knowing you were so good- feelin’ so good and-” San let out a loud moan, throwing his head back against your shoulder, eyes screwed shut. his hands tugged harder at his length, his thumb playing at the sensitive slit.

“What else, hm?” Your hands made their way to his nipples, testing the waters again and gently grazing against the hardened buds.

San's body caved in on itself at the sudden contact, rushing to tell you to wait.

“You okay?” You managed to get out, feeling your chest squeeze.

“Sorry, yes yes, I’m okay, it’s just.. if you keep doing that I’ll come too soon.”

"Here, lemme get up." 

San moved forward to let you move from behind him. 

"Lay back." 

His hand released his cock as he shifted around before finally grabbing a pillow and resting it behind his head. You shuffled to sit on top of him, not fully planting all your body weight down. San's breath hitched. Your hands reached for the knot of your robe, slowly untying it to reveal yourself before San and letting it fall down the expanse of your shoulders and back. 

San's eyes focused on every part of you, the way your nipples were perked from being aroused and the slight cool air that was slowly turning hot. The way your soft flesh was flushed, the way your thighs looked caging his frame at his hips. But his eyes really caught focus on the way your pussy was beginning to drip with wetness onto his cock. "Is this okay?" You quietly asked, leaning forward to rest your hands on either side of his head. 

"Perfect, you're perfect. It's perfect. C'mere." San reached around the best he could to pull you down to meet his lips by the back of your neck. His hands resting on either side of your face, thumbs caressing your cheeks as your tongues swirled around each other. You felt yourself relaxing, your chest pressed against his and finally seating yourself on top of his cock. San moaned, his hips bucking up quickly, the tip of his cock briefly rubbing against your bundle of nerves. You pulled away from his lips, meeting his eyes before resting your forehead on his. 

"Did you want to... you know," Your voice trailed off in a whisper. 

"Please, yes. Yes, did you-" 

"We can stay like this if that's okay with you, I really don't mind." 

"That's okay," San gulped. Suddenly feeling his nerves spike. He wasn't worried about anything other than cumming quickly. Which would be as expected, considering his circumstances. But he had some hope that he could last at least enough time to help you reach your climax. Regardless, he trusted you.

You pushed yourself up, suddenly feeling anxious. You reached down to grab at the base San's cock, lining it up with your entrance. You could feel San's eyes staring at where his cock and your pussy were able to meet. He felt heavy in your hands, each throb a reflection of his unwavering desire for you. You lowered yourself on him, your essence making it easier for you to slide down. It had obviously been a while since you had actual sex, and pleasuring yourself did not compare to the feeling of having the man you loved inside you. The tip of his cock had pushed through, you felt yourself clench around the intrusion. You and San let out a moan in unison. 

"Why- Why do I feel like I'm gonna come?" San said in a strained voice as his hands fisted the sheets, stomach tensing beneath you. 

"Just- Wait-" You breathed out, letting all your weight down on San's cock. The feeling of him stuffed fully inside of you made you feel dizzy nonetheless. San let out a long whine, he pushed himself up from the mattress to meet your body, pulling you in a tight hug. 

"I love you so much, so so much. You don't even understand." San grumbled into the crook of your neck, placing kisses along the spot where your ear and neck met. You let out a needy whine, reaching your arms around his back to embrace him as well. You moved your hips as best as you could given the current position, grinding in small circles. San pulled away, one of his hands reaching to grope at your chest. 

He leaned down, kissing along the valley of your chest that led down to your nipple. His mouth closed around the perked bud, his tongue swirling around delicately. You let out a moan, your hands reaching up to take hold of his hair, nails gently scraping against his scalp before gently tugging at the roots.

San's hands reached around you again, his nails softly scratching down against the expanse of your back before finding purchase on your ass. He gripped the flesh with firmness, pulling you down as he tried to buck up into you. The tip of his cock grazed the cervix ever so slightly, causing you to let out a sharp whine. 

"Sannie, baby, do that- do that again." That was the first time San heard you call him that. It triggered something in him, but he couldn't quite explain it. He brought your hips down again as he bucked up into you, leaning forward and clumsily capturing your lips in a kiss. 

His cock twitched inside you, it didn't take much to know that he was close. You were honestly surprised that he had held out this long but then again you two had fooled around before this so how surprising could it really have been. You pulled away from his lips, leaning in for one last peck before moving your hips with more fervor. 

"C'mon baby, I know you're close. It's okay, you can let it out."

If you had to ask San to relive one moment from his life again before he died, he'd think he'd confidently say that it'd be this moment. He actually might be dramatic, it would probably be an entirely different moment, but his mental, his senses, his heart, was so consumed with the thought of you that he was sure that if he died right now, he’d die a happy man.

There was something about the way that you always softly demanded him or guided him during these intimate moments- there was a gentleness mixed with a sternness in your demeanor that drove him insane.

He gave one last buck of his hips, the plushness of your ass jiggling slightly against his hands before he felt the tension that was in his balls release.

San held you close, his head falling on your shoulder and leaning into the crook of your neck. The loud groan being the only thing that you could hear, you felt your body shudder at the feeling of hot ropes of cum painting your gummy walls. You sat there on the bed in each other’s embrace for what felt like an eternity, San was the first to say something.

“Baby.”

You hummed, your hands rubbing up and down his back, your fingertips grazing his skin with the softest caress you could muster.

“Can I eat you out?”

“What?” You pulled away to look San in the eyes, only to find him avoiding your gaze.

“I’m serious, I know you didn’t get to… finish and I don’t really care that you know…”

You shook your head, moving to get off him to lay down. The feeling of his cock instantly slipping out of you having your pussy clench. You were stuffed full of him seed, not realizing how much he’d actually came until it began to dribble down the insides of your thighs.

You settled on your back, eyes shut from shyness.

“Fuck,” You heard San whisper as he turned his body to get a better view at you. His hands grabbed at your knees pushing them forward to your chest.

“Hold them for me.”

“No way…”

“What?”

“I still can’t believe you’re this nasty, San. Are you sure you haven’t been jukin’ me this whole time?” You let out a breathy laugh, your pussy clenching again as San’s hands massaged the back of your thighs before dragging them closer to your pussy.

He laughed with you, his pointer fingers spreading your lips open. You couldn’t help but moan, feeling his seed dribble down. 

“Say you want it,” San said, pausing his movements.

“What?”

“Say you want it- tell me how bad you want it,” San’s eyes stayed focused on the way you kept clenching around nothing.

This was definitely new, San never feigned feeling some type of way about always falling into a more submissive role during your previous intimate times together. You could confidently say this was a type of reassurance he wanted. You felt yourself gulp, eyes screwing shut once again.

“Want it…” You mumbled. Before you even had the chance to repeat yourself louder, you felt a sharp sting on your inner thigh which ignited a surprised yelp from you. You hadn’t expected the palm of his hand to meet so harshly with your skin.

“Sorry I-”

“It’s okay, San. I promise it’s okay- God, please do that again, want it so bad. Want you so fucking bad, please. Just fucking do something.”

San couldn’t understand what he was feeling, seeing your fucked out face, squirming and moaning for him to touch you. It was always him that was left to this role, and don’t get him wrong- he definitely enjoyed it. You made him feel safe and comforted, but prior to this trip when he had wondered about your previous partners and finally losing his virginity to you… he really couldn’t help but wonder how he could make you feel that same safe feeling during sex that you never failed to make him feel.

He wanted you to crave him the same way he craved you.

He quickly maneuvered himself to be eye level with your core and wasted no time in wrapping his lips around you. His tongue poked and prodded at your hole, tasting himself on his lips. He pressed his palms down into your thighs trying to spread you out the best he could as he continued to suck and lick at your most sensitive parts.

“Wait, oh fuck- Don’t stop.” You threw your head back into the mattress, you could feel your clit throbbing as you tried bucking your hips up into San’s mouth.

“Right there, you’re doing so good, baby. Right there- fuck-”

San felt his chest grow in pride, continuing to lick and prod at your clit. His tongue swirled around the overstimulated bud, he could feel your legs switching between relaxed and tensed. He pressed his tongue flat against your core, letting you grind against his face. He was determined to make you cum without his fingers.

“Oh my god- I’m gonna- Shit, I’m coming baby, I’m coming, ooh my god,” You let out a long whine, trying to shut your legs around San’s head but with no prevail. 

It happened suddenly, your orgasm crashing down and in a blink of an eye you felt one of your things being pressed open while you felt fingers enter you.

“Wha-”

“Gimme one last one, I know you can.”

Somehow San had moved to be parallel from your laying body, hovering above you as best as he could while his fingers drilled into you tight cunt.

His eyes focused on your face, the way you struggled to keep your eyes open and your eyebrows were pursed forward. There was no real rhythm to his fingers, part of him had only vaguely remembered how people fingered each other in videos. And even he knew those weren’t good examples to go off of.

“Come on, baby. I know you can cum for me one more time.”

Your mouth fell open in a silent moan, and suddenly all you could feel was San in every one of your senses. His smell, his body heat, his presence, his gaze on you… he was clouding every bit of your mental. The knot if your stomach was ready to snap, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to try and tell San that he was hitting that sweet spot. Could he even tell? You didn’t think so, but you could tell this orgasm was going to be different from all your prev-

“Look at you, holy fuck-” San began rubbing your clit quickly. “Baby, you’re fucking squirting for me.”

Your ears were ringing, and truthfully you could barely hear what San was saying. Your mind was entirely clouded, and you didn’t even have the strength to respond. Your body shuddered, and all you could muster up was weakly wrapping your arms around San and pulling him down on top of you.

“Hey, you okay?” San’s voice never failed to show his concern as he tried turning in your grasp to get a look at you.

You weakly hummed in response before speaking, trying to wrap your arms more comfortably around him.

“Feels like… feels like I’m on a cloud. Don’t want you to leave me, feels good. Here- Feels good you’re here. With me.” You rambled, fighting to keep your eyes open.

“I’m not going anywhere, baby.” San whispered, softly kissing the first piece of skin his lips could reach. He moved one of his hands to rest at your side, caressing his thumb back and forth lightly.

“Was it too much? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-” San mumbled into your skin.

“Shh.” San looked up at your face expectantly.

“I like this side of you, too, it was perfect, Sannie.”

He smiled, leaning back down to give you a swift kiss.

“You did good for me, by the way. And of course, always an overachiever…” There was a tilt to San’s voice as he spoke.

“Me? That’s definitely you, I was fine with not finishing after you came.”

“Oh really? Well, I wasn’t,” he playfully retorted.

“And this is why you’re mine, because you treat me so well,” you smiled, eyes still shut.

“And on that note, lemme get you cleaned up.”

“I don’t wanna take another shower right now, can we at least nap for a little before we do? I genuinely can’t feel my legs, I think.” 

“Fine, but I’m setting a timer for an hour. At least go pee.” San got up, his bare body facing away from you as he reached into one of his bags that was placed on one of the chairs in the corner of them. He walked back towards you, opening a package of wipes, gently wiping at the insides of your thighs as best as he could. He reached down to grab hold of your hand, tugging slightly to pull you up.

“An hour…” you echoed with a slight pout, looking back at San.

“Two at most.” You felt a content smile creeping on your face.

“Hold on, I’m gonna carry you, m’kay?” He reached hold of your back, lifting you so you could wrap your legs around his torso as he walked to the bathroom.

He placed you on the tile floor, stepping away and shutting the door behind him.

“I’m gonna strip the bed sheets, we might have to run into town to grab some detergent to wash… Lemme know when you’re about to come out though so I can grab your robe.” San’s head peaked through the door, giving you one last smile.

“Thank you.”

And with that he closed the door behind him.

-

You woke up to the alarm San had set going off and feeling insanely hot, your robe was exposing your naked body underneath and your legs were tangled with San’s.

In fact, most of his body was practically smothering yours and though you loved him dearly, you needed him to get off of you to cool down.  

You did your best to wiggle yourself free, but to no avail, San’s arms stayed holding you tightly.

“Why you trynna run away from me, huh?” San grumbled against your hair.

“I’m not running away, you’re literally a furnace.”

You tried kicking the blankets off with the little leg strength you had. San threw his leg over yours, pulling you as close as possible. Both of you fell into a fit of laughter, trying to squirm for freedom.

“San, let. Me. Go.” You laughed, pushing your body weight against him to free yourself from his hold.

“Never.”

“Please.”

“Nope.”

“You said we would only take a nap for two hours and then rinse off.”

“I know what I said.”

You laughed, eyebrows raised at his sudden sassiness.

“So since you know, let’s get up. You wanna run into town later, right?”

San hummed, his hand coming up from holding you to push your robe further off your back. His lips began softly kissing at your hot skin.

“Lemme have you one more time before we shower.” He grumbled, his lips now puckering to suck love bites against your shoulder. His hips pressed forward and you felt his cock begin to get hard against your lower back just above the swell of your ass.

“Seriously.” You moaned in disbelief, pushing your hips back to meet his. His teeth nipped at your skin, not hard enough to cause you any pain but enough to feel yourself getting aroused.

“I’ll make it quick, I promise.”

“Fine.” You huffed out, letting yourself relax your body into San’s, letting him touch you however he pleased.

San was right, he made it quick. He had his way with you while you guys spooned, thrusting his hips shallowly against your ass as he hit all your sweet spots. This vacation was definitely going to have both of you spent, and with San’s new found stamina, you were unsure if you were really going to be able to keep up.

-

It wasn’t long until you guys finally found the courage to get up and rinse off, deciding to finally make your way into town and grab a few things from the grocers.

“You said we needed detergent, yeah?” You said, pushing the cart down the aisle as San focused on items on the shelf.

“Yeah, detergent and then whatever snacks you want.”

“Snacks… okay, you want me to meet you in the frozen section?”

“That’s fine. I’mma grab some fruits and other stuff then head that way.”

You hummed, making your way to the other side of the store to select your items.

Five minutes, maybe ten at most, had passed until San finally made his way back to meet up with you. Reaching the cart, he dumped his items in.

“Ready?”

“Yeah let’s-” You stopped, eyes falling on two bottles of lube that San had thrown in with the rest of his items that consisted of sugary snacks and fruit.

“What?” He paused, waiting for you to finish. His eyes trailed down to what you were looking out before continuing, “Look you can never have too much, okay? Also, I made a promise when we first got here.”

And with that, San walked his way to the front of the store where the registers were, turning around briefly to motion you to follow before walking again.

-

When you guys had gotten back from the store, you both decided to put in a frozen pizza in the oven and ate quickly, finding refuge on the couch shortly after to relax. You guys had the bed sheets in the washer, currently laid up on the couch. The television played some movie that San had decided on, something about volleyball, you weren’t tracking too much to be quite frank.

You laid on top of San, feeling his heartbeat pound against your ear. His hands gently scratched against your back, as if he were to press any harder you’d break.

“Y/N?” San softly spoke, his hands stopping in place.

“Hmm..” Your eyes fought to stay open, exhaustion and content consuming your body after the day’s events.

“Everything was okay, yeah?” San’s voice trailed off, almost as if he felt embarrassed to even ask you. You knew what he was implying. You lifted your head to look him in the eyes.

“It was perfect. I’m glad you trust me, San. Seriously. And I’m so glad you let me love you the way you needed and let me show you how much I love you.”

San’s lips fell into a soft pout, he felt a lump in his throat. He didn’t say anything, instead he pulled you down for a tender kiss. It was sweet, there was no sexual intentions behind this one, just pure unadulterated love from the both of you.

“I love you, like a lot. Like for eternity, even.” San said as he pulled away from the kiss, smiling up at you.

“I love you for eternity, too.” You smiled back, giving him one last peck before laying your head back on his chest and succumbing to the sleepiness that slowly invaded your mind.

And the rest of your time on your vacation get-a-way was spent like that. Spending time with another, sharing affectionate moments and sweet words. San was true to his word, he took you on every surface in that house that he could defile you on. The kitchen counters, the table, the couch, the shower, even the stairs. He’d gone through a bottle and a half of lube since he had purchased it that first day there and you were more than sure the way he was fucking you, in all these different positions and with his stamina in mind, he was surely going to end up putting a baby in you.

One thing you had begun to realize about San though- well, a few things- was how he loved coming inside you and watching you push it out. As if he couldn’t wrap his head around that all of that seed was really his. Also that he really liked making you squirt- it wasn’t something you’d known before that you were capable of doing, so to have a guy who had very little sexual experience, make you do that, was truly mind-boggling.

After your vacation, you noticed your energy shift between each other for the better. San had passed his horny phase, and overall had just enjoyed being romantically intimate just as much as he enjoyed being sexually intimate. Not that he hadn’t been that way before, but it definitely felt more comfortable to express those sides of him naturally. You both brought out new sides of each other and to be able to express that so comfortably and safely was more than perfect.

Time had passed and yet another school year had finally come to an end, summer was approaching quickly.

“You heading back home for the summer?” San asked as you guys strolled along the trail that went through the campus park. His hands played with the ends of your hair as you walked, his eyes looking at you expectantly.

“Hmm, I thought about it, my lease ends right before summer starts so it at least gives me time to really think but, honestly I don’t wanna…”

“Come with me.”

“What?” You stopped walking, turning to look at San.

“I mean come with me for the summer. I’m going back home and we have a spare room if anything since my sister doesn’t live at the house anymore…” His voice trailed off as his hands removed themself from your hair, bringing them forward and stuffing them in his pockets.

“Well… I mean, are your parents okay with-”

“I already asked them… last month. And again last week, I didn’t tell them it was for sure though because I wasn’t sure how to bring it up to you but if you do decide to come, they’re okay with it and they’re super excited to meet you. No pressure though.” San chewed on his lower lip, avoiding your eyes.

You grabbed his wrists, taking his hands out of his pockets and bringing his hands to your lips, giving each one a soft kiss. Your eyes met his, and you found him looking back at you fondly with a faint blush creeping on his cheeks. He was trying hard to fight the smile that so desperately wanted to be on display for you and only you.

“Well, then. I would love to spend the summer with you and your family.” You pulled him forward to kiss his lips quickly, before pulling away and leading him down the trail of the park.

This upcoming summer was definitely going to be one to remember, and you were more than excited to spend it with the one you loved most.

[hanasnx]

❝ mercury: retrograde. ❞

── batman x reader

MINORS DNI 18+ WORD COUNT: 2k SUMMARY: after your failed attempt to recover the last pieces of joker present in the victims of his diseased blood donation, you discover a mystery about the batman in both body and spirit. NOTES: during the events of batman: arkham knight, when harley quinn tries to reclaim the joker-ified victims from panessa studios. the reader is somewhat in the place of harley quinn WARNINGS: f!reader | explicit sexual content | implied creampie | unprotected sex | established relationship: enemies to lovers | size difference | slapping (m receiving) | previous relationship with joker is implied.

You stir at the feeling of strong grips handling your waist, the heavy haze of unconsciousness fading as you’re lifted from the ground. Memories gradually return with each inch gained, and your eyelids flutter open, the dull light stinging your gaze. The motion of you being punctually raised to your feet only to be thrown over the shoulder of none other than the BATMAN is jarring to say the very least. “Hey. Hey!” you interject when you come to, your mouth finally catching up with your brain as your stomach makes contact with his armored shoulder, and the wind is knocked from your lungs.

“Take Charisma back to the cells. I’ll catch up.” he orders the newest Boy Wonder. A man clad in red and green holds Johnny Charisma in a similar fashion to your position, mirroring you.

Robin nods, and sees himself out. “Don’t take too long.” he jests, and if you were paying more attention you would’ve rolled your eyes. Instead, you’re much too busy running your mouth with any kind of noise, kicking your feet, and banging your fists against the Bat’s lower back. With each blow, the cape bounces back to brush your angry hands, and in a brief fascination you clutch onto the foreign material with the intent to rip it. Of course, it doesn’t, and you consider the possibility of tearing into it with your teeth as you would duct tape. To calm your writhing legs, he straps an arm around your thighs, lumbering along with you on his shoulder as if you simply weren’t there. It’s dizzying being all the way up here, the Bat towers over most everyone… it’s that or all the blood that’s rushed to your head. He enters a different room than where Robin went, and momentarily you entertain the fact he seeks to interrogate you. But what could you possibly know that the Bat wants? It was always Joker with the big ideas. Now that he’s gone, you’ve been trying replace him as the Head Guy but it’s just not the same.

So you thrash. You move your body in any way you can think of, anything to loosen his vice-like grasp on you, but he is infallible. Taking you deeper into this abandoned set in Panessa Studios. “Put me down—! Hey! Are you listening to me? I said, put- me- down— Oh!” Your commands are interrupted by your own squeak of surprise as he unceremoniously drops you, landing on your feet with a bounce as your countenance shifts to one of endearing disbelief. You rally, skewing your features to convey indignity. “How dare you?” you scold, but it’s grossly performative. You raise your hand, punctuating your disdain for him with a sharp slap of admonishment to his cheek. It reverberates in this empty room, and his neck has craned from the force. Perhaps out of respect. You’ve seen this freak throw grown men across the room, you’re sure he feels nothing but a sting on his skin. So you give him another one, smacking him to pivot him to the other side.

“Touching a lady like that! You should know better! I’m wearing a skirt! Anyone could’ve seen! What would my men think of their boss if they’ve seen her panties? Huh? Do you have any idea what it takes to be a leader in this economy?” With each passing phrase, your voice heightens shriller, the emotion of the scene getting to you, but he is unaffected. Slowly, he faces you, opening his eyes to meet your vindictive gaze. “You—! You’re the one that killed him, if he were still alive I wouldn’t have to be in this mess—“ your tone cracks at the mention of the Joker, and a desperate sort of need takes you over. You throw yourself onto the statuesque vigilant who remains expressionless as you clutch onto whatever purchase his tight armor possesses, climbing up his chest to his collar.

Your instability is cause for your sudden shift in depression and wrath; one second you’re clinging onto him, shaking him (or more accurately, shaking yourself using him and his immovable body), and the next you’re pinching your features into a frown and weakly banging your fists against his chest for round two. They glance off, and he stares down at you. It takes you an inappropriate amount of time to question how long he’s been letting you do this to him, until he side-steps you. Comically, you fall forward from the loss of balance, the lack of his beam-like support causing you to stumble and clumsily regain your footing to round on him.

“Enough.” he commands, and his recognizably annoyed tone sets your lips into a thin line. “Tell me what you know.” Inviting himself into your space, this dark towering figure stoops to your level, forcing you to arch back as he imposes.

You audibly gulp, scanning his form. He notes that. That scares you. So you attempt to throw him off the trail, taking a step back so you have room to straighten, cross your arms, and stick your nose in the air. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” you insist, and wiggle your shoulders, peeking at him through your closed eyes to gauge his reaction. You don’t have time to react before his huge glove has enclosed in the puffy fabric of your sleeve, yanking you back to him. Instinctively, you reach out, bracing against his chest so you won’t trip again. A furtive glance is paid to your hand’s position on his emblem, and when you meet his gaze he’s already looking at yours.

“You’re here for the patients. You think they’ve got the potential to replace him, don’t you?” Just like that, he ruins the moment with his big mouth.

You scowl, lifting yourself on your toes as if that’ll intimidate him. “They are him!”

“He’s dead!” The anger behind his words admits how resentful he is that you won’t deal with the Joker’s death.

“Because of you!”

“Don’t be stupid.” An alarming shift in his tone conveys an uncharacteristic smugness, one that creases your brow in bewilderment because of how likely the phrase sounded like Batman was about to laugh at you. “How long are you going to live in that fantasy?”

“I—” you begin, but a flash catches you off-guard. Untensing, you search his eyes for that flash again. A glint. A glimpse of that familiar viridian. You’ve looked into Batman’s eyes countless times, you know his irises are colored blue. But for one single second, you could’ve sworn you saw a little of J in there. As if you weren’t in control of your own body, you take a step forward. A great sense of relief overcoming you at the sight of green blooming faithfully in Batman’s eyes. “It’s you…” you muse in wonder, your gentle hands coming to cup his rough face, your fingertips grazing the helmet’s smooth material.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say you stunned the Bat. But he doesn’t let it last long, growling in offense as he uses your abused top to toss you against a prop wall. You clatter against the hollow wood, meagerly propped up by the 2x4s on the other side. His massive fist nails the surface right by your head, and you’re too in awe to flinch.

“Tell me what I want to know!” The Batman orders, and you know exactly what to tell him. You pounce on him, draping your body all over his armor as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Oh, I’ve missed you so much!” you exclaim. You had no idea a little taste of Joker blood had infiltrated the Big Bad Bat. Here he is, right in front of you again. Old feelings come flooding back as your lips peck at whatever is in reach, punctuated with audible “muahs.”

He recoils, but your grip only tightens, clinging onto him until he pries you off by his hands on your wrists.

“Oh, baby,” you croon, bending over to show him your cleavage as you wiggle it for him. “Why you gotta make me wait, huh? Didn’t you miss me too?” Your wrists, suspended in mid-air, make your arousal run impossibly deeper. Firmly enclosed in his big hands, restrained, you could jump out of your own skin. You tilt your head at him as he observes you, as unperturbed as ever, and you wonder if he’s fighting off the Joker-persona that takes over. “You know you want it…” you exhale, lusty and provocative. “I know you do. Whether you’re the Bat or the Joke I know you want me.” you test. Your tongue licks at the lipstick on your lips. “Don’t worry,” you whisper, desperate. “I won’t tell anyone.”

This is not the first time he’s been tempted by you, yet he finds it more difficult than the last to refuse you. He allows you to take a step closer. “Fuck it.” he says, and you squeal with delight as he scoops you up, pinning you back to the wall. You slam your lips to his, and he eagerly accepts you. The kind of kiss that’s fucking sloppy. Disgusting. As reserved and formal as he is in kissing you, you’re far too disorderly for that. All tongue, you thrust it out between your lips to shove it into his, enthusiastic in playing with his. Surprisingly, he accepts it but doesn’t match your energy as you tongue-fuck his mouth. You trace it over all the wrong places, giddy in the notion you know what the inside of Batman’s mouth feels like. You line it over his his teeth until you’re sure you could recreate his dental print from memory.

It all happens so fast. One second you’re making out, sucking on his tongue like it’s his cock, the next his utility belt is on the floor and his actual cock is rearranging your insides. He’s a lot bigger than your old boss.

“Fuck, fuck! Right there, right there!” you mewl your praises, wet pussy gratefully slurping up his every inch. It’s unfathomable how long you’ve gone without proper dick, and something about the way he’s bullying his way into you hits the spot. Everything from the angle of fucking you against this wall, to the gruff and animalistic exhales he expels with each thrust has your pretty eyes rolling into the back of your head. “Oh, my fucking God! Who knew you could fuck like this? If I’d’ve known you feel this good I would’ve hopped on your bat-cock years ago.” Mindless, stupid ramblings of a thankful whore, reeling from his thick fingers that leave bruises in the flesh of your thighs. He’s relatively quiet, letting you do the talking, perhaps he already regrets his decision to screw you but it’s too late now. Whatever implication this proves he’s not stopping to examine the morality of it, chasing his high and using your body to do it.

The familiar tremor in your thighs lets you know how close you really are, clawing at his armor. His hand cups your jaw, tucking your chin into the web of his thumb, pinching your cheeks together a bit as he adjusts you to look at him. “You wanna finish?” he asks through the grit in his teeth, and you nod furiously, stifled by his hold.

“Yes. Yes, baby, I wanna finish. I wanna cum.” you whine, seeking to please him.

“Promise to be good?”

A stinging thrill shoots up your spine originating from your sex. You had no idea he was into that kind of stuff, nor implementing it. You go crazy for it. Once again, you nod furiously. Whatever that definition entailed— to be good— you would do it. Anything for him. “I promise, I promise. I promise to be good, I promise.”

You find out later being good entails being thrown into a cell to await policy recovery. Oh, but it was fucking worth it.