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little-diable · 3 days

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Who prays for Satan? - Priest!Tom Riddle (smut)

This isn't our usual dark!Tom, he's still fucked up, but not as dark as the other priest fics. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Priest Riddle is the reader's theology professor, a man she has always found herself interested in, but things escalate when she joins his church for her internship.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, guided masturbation (f), spanking, forced confession, smut in a church/in a confessional, choking, degrading, unaddressed age gap, power play, professor x student, religious connotations

Pairing: Priest!Prof!Tom Riddle x fem!student!reader (about 3k words)

"Please remember that you only have time until Friday to tell me, where you will do your internship. Have a good week, and don’t forget the essays, please.” The sounds of students hastily rising to their feet echoed through the room, but while some were desperate to leave, getting away from the professor who looked like God’s finest creation, but spoke like the Devil himself, others were desperate to catch his attention with bland questions he found himself annoyed by.

“(Y/n), do you have a moment?” His voice drew her closer, past the group of students who looked at her with hate swimming in their pupils. She didn’t look at them as she walked past them, coming to a halt in front of the tall man with a soft smile glued to her lips. “Walk with me.”

Neither of them spared the others another glance as he strode out in the hallway, expecting her to follow him. It wasn’t the first class of his (y/n) was visiting, and it probably wouldn’t be the last, as she found herself awfully drawn towards the priest, who had taken on a few theology classes at their university. Something about him was different. Something she couldn’t let go of, no matter how hard she tried to.

“I knew you’d turn in your essay days before the others would even begin writing it, but I was pleasantly surprised by your work this week. It was smart of you to use the famous Mark Twain quote: “But who prays for Satan? Who, in eighteen centuries, has had the common humanity to pray for the one sinner that needed it most?” It always stuck with me.”

“Thank you, Professor Riddle. You once told me how much you think of this quote, so it only felt right to use it for this week’s focus on sinning.” The throaty chuckle rumbling through him left her feeling surprised, not used to seeing him this giddy. His smile didn’t waver, not as they came to a halt in front of his office, not as he guided her inside, not as they plopped down on their designated seats.

“Your essay isn’t the reason for this chat, though. I was thinking of what you said to me, and I decided that you can join my church for your internship. But I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t tell others I’m allowing you to do this, I never give out internships, and I’m only taking you on because I know how dedicated and smart you are.” Heat rose in her system, crawling up her throat to force (y/n) to avert her gaze. She had been desperate to find a church to join, not wanting to spend her internship as a simple office help, she needed practice, something to help her figure out what she actually wanted to do with her life.

“I highly appreciate this, thank you, professor. I promise, I won’t make you regret your choice.” Her eyes flickered back to his piercing ones, instantly sucked into his mesmerizing grasp. He was like a siren, luring her into his trap to feast on her darkening thoughts – thoughts she hadn’t been able to shake ever since meeting the tall priest.

“I know you won’t, (y/n). You will start Sunday morning to join me for the first service of the day, and then we can go through your task for the upcoming two weeks.”

……

“Professor?” Her voice hallowed through the empty church. It was still dark out, an early morning she had struggled to adjust to, and yet her nerves had managed to get her out of bed, finding her way towards these holy halls. Her sneakers met the ground as (y/n) walked up to the altar, letting her fingertips dance over the cold marble, appreciating the grounding sensation she was instantly taken over by.

“You’re early.” Professor Riddle's raspy voice made her jump, she had been too distracted by her surroundings to hear him approach, slowly turning towards him with wide eyes. He was wearing his black signature suit, paired with the white collar she’d see in her darkest moments, making heat pool between her thighs.

(Y/n) clawed her fingernails into her palms to rip herself out of the hazy fog calling for her, needing to stay focused before she could do or say something that would end her internship right there and then.

“I thought you may need some help preparing for the service.” A sickly sweet smile tugged on her lips, forcing his teeth to rot from the mere possibility of tasting her. He took a step towards her, with his hands clamped together behind his back, giving him an extra authoritarian touch. But while her body screamed at her to take a step back, to find shelter behind the altar, her mind murmured to (y/n) to hold still, not daring to give in to his intimidation scheme.

“I certainly appreciate your help, (y/n). I knew it was the right choice to pick you for this internship.” He towered over her, staring down at her with his gaze reminding her of a snake, ready to pounce, to sink its poisonous teeth into her quivering body. At that very moment, she was Eve, tempted by the eternal sin, and he was her downfall. She stood closer to him than ever before, front about to touch his, seeking the warmth he emanated in a place as cold as this church.

“So, what should I do?” (Y/n) needed to get away from him, no longer trusting herself with ignoring the shameless whispers ringing in her ears. But the tall man didn’t back off, he kept watching her with that smirk that told her he knew exactly what she found herself bothered by. A losing game (y/n) had never been destined to win, burning out like a cigarette setting a petrol station ablaze, destined to burn to the ground.

“Why don’t you choose this morning’s prayers?” He reached for the Bible resting on the altar, way too close to her. His front brushed hers as he leaned forward, reaching for the leather-bound book before pushing it into (y/n)’s grasp. Their eyes kept holding contact, even as his hand disappeared inside the pocket of his jacket, pulling free a black rosary. “Oh, before I forget. Here, I want you to have this.”

(Y/n) didn’t get any time to react or to ask questions as he pushed the rosary over her head to let it rest on her chest. His hand kept holding onto the dangling cross, while his eyes flickered back to her confused ones. “They will know you belong to me, wear it whenever you are working here.”

……

Her eyes were focused on the bright laptop screen as she was typing away her notes for this day, promising to give them to Professor Riddle before leaving. Even though her thoughts were still all over the place, (y/n) found herself growing more comfortable around the tall man most students were scared of. He treated her kindly, and yet something was hiding behind his words and expressions she couldn’t pinpoint.

“Are you done with your notes?” Professor Riddle’s voice filled his office as he stepped inside. (Y/n) didn’t lift her gaze at first, hastily trying to type the last sentence before she gave in and dared to look at him.

“Just finished, should I print them?” He didn’t reply to her question, eyes fully focused on her upper body, trying to locate the missing rosary. With her breath hitched in her chest, (y/n) watched him approach, rounding the desk to find his way towards her. (Y/n) struggled to breathe as the scent of his expensive cologne clashed against her frame, forcing her to get lost in his darkening eyes.

“Where is the rosary?” She knew that she had forgotten it at home this very morning, too tired to care about any rules and regulations, but her hand still snapped up to her chest, trying to find the missing piece.

“I’m sorry, I forgot it at home.” He didn’t give in to the soft smile (y/n) shot him, didn’t pick up on the exhaustion dripping from her words, solemnly focused on the way she had gone against his rules. His tongue kissed his teeth before he took a step back and stretched his ringed hand out for her to take. “Where are we going?”

“I wanted to go over this with you tomorrow, but it seems like tonight is the perfect time to do so.” (Y/n) was led out of his office and down the hallway towards the dark nave. They walked up to the confessional, and as he opened one door for her, he shot her a look that made her tremble, letting any protests die on the tip of her tongue.

“Have you ever confessed before, (y/n)?” She was engulfed by darkness, and could barely see her own hands, let alone the man who was sitting close to her, behind the wooden construction keeping them apart. The scent of incense hung in the air, sticking to her like a second layer of skin, a reminder of their sacred surroundings.

“No, professor.” (Y/n) had been addressing him as “Professor” for the past days, not daring to use any other title, let alone his first name. But the second she used this very title to address him, (y/n) could tell that it would be the last time she’d call him that tonight, a shift was happening, something she was now taken over by.

“It’s Priest Riddle to you.” The barely audible gasp clawing through (y/n) left him chuckling, followed by the sound of him shifting around on the bench, making himself comfortable as she grew more tense. “You sinned, you went against my rules. I must punish you for that, (y/n).”

“Punish me?” She hated that his words pushed excitement through her, forcing her to sit even straighter as if he could see her. Her fingertips began to tingle, her legs were quivering, unable to hold still as something she had only dreamt of slowly began to unfold right at that very moment.

“Honesty will be the price of your foolishness, (y/n). I notice the way you look at me, how you seem to long for something you aren’t allowed to even reach for. Tell me, (y/n), what is it you so desperately seem to want?” Embarrassment flushed through her, followed by anger she couldn’t shake. How dare he ask something like this? How dare he try to embarrass her for a simple mistake? She should have left the confessional, stormed out of the church, and reported the man for overstepping. And yet she didn’t, already stuck in the trap he had laid out for her months ago.

“I don’t know.” It was the truth. She didn’t know what she wanted from him if she was merely longing for his touch, or if something even more desperate was guiding her on. She didn’t know if she wanted a simple taste, or to be swallowed wholly by him. She simply didn’t know.

“How far are you willing to go, (y/n)?” Her mouth felt dry, unable to swallow as his words began to sink in. (Y/n) was grateful that he couldn’t see her, the way her pupils were dilated by the lust flushing through her, the goosebumps covering every visible part of her body as if she was engulfed by an icy wind.

“Farther than I should.” A part of her expected him to break the spell they were now connected by, to pull her out of the confessional and scold her for giving in this easily. But the priest didn’t move, and neither did (y/n).

“Spread your legs, I want you to touch yourself like I bet you keep imagining me doing.” With her heart in her throat, (y/n)’s hand disappeared beneath her skirt, slowly pushing her damp panties aside. A soft moan clawed through the student, grateful that the others had left the church hours ago. “Good girl, fuck yourself with your fingers.”

Another moan left (y/n) as she pushed two fingers into her tightness, spreading her walls as if she was preparing herself for his cock, desperate to take every inch. She kept moaning for him, choking on her sounds that grew heavier with every passing moment.

“I can hear how wet you are, I bet you taste so sweet, like the forbidden fruit.” His words guided her on, ringing in her ears as if the Devil was calling for her, wandering through the darkness to reach his open arms, getting lost in his sweet promises. “I should imprint my palm on your skin for going against my rules. You promised you wouldn’t disappoint me, didn’t you?”

“I’m sorry.” Her needy whimpers left the priest chuckling, sounds that almost managed to drown out the ones clawing through (y/n).

“I’m sure you are, (y/n). Stop touching yourself.” It pained her to pull her hand away, she had been close to giving in, ready to call out his name as her orgasm clashed through her, seconds before she could have reached paradise. The sounds of Priest Riddle leaving his side of the confessional echoed through the evening, followed by the sounds of him opening her side and stepping into the small space.

She was pulled to her feet and tugged in for a kiss that left her moaning. (Y/n)’s arms found their way around Priest Riddle's neck, trying to pull the tall man even closer as if she were addicted to him. He broke the kiss to turn her around, pressing (y/n)’s front against the wooden wall separating both sides of the confessional. His ringed hands felt cold against her body as he shuffled her skirt up to her waist, letting her panties drop to the ground seconds later.

“I hope you prepared yourself enough for this punishment.” His ringed hand came down on her behind, forcing a yelp out of (y/n) who pressed herself further against the cold wood. Pain stretched itself through her, an unfamiliar kind of pain that made her ache for more. Once again, his palm met her warm skin, knowing that she’d struggle with sitting for the next few days. “I can’t wait to finally fuck you, make you pay for all these times I felt your eyes on me like a needy whore who doesn’t know when to stop.”

(Y/n) couldn’t protest, she couldn’t speak up to beg him for any kindness he wouldn’t offer. Only as she felt him pull away for a moment did (y/n) allow herself to breathe, blinking away the tears that had welled up in her eyes.

“What do you want, (y/n)? And don’t feed me another lie. I want your honesty.” Chills ran down her spine at his dangerous tone, shaking through (y/n) like an earthquake set on ripping her off her feet. She had to deeply inhale, had to heavily swallow before she managed to put her longings into words, needing to break out of his trap.

“I want your cock, fuck me, please, Priest Riddle.” A satisfied hum left the man, followed by the sounds of him ripping open a condom, prepared for his very punishment. It didn’t take long until she felt him at her entrance, slowly pushing into (y/n) with a heavy groan that dripped with need and lust clawing through him.

It felt as if they had been created for his moment only, bodies made to fit.

“I should tell you to never sin again, to stay true to your promises. But you’ve turned me into a sinner as well, no promise could keep me from you any longer.” His words left her gasping, walls clenching around this twitching cock. He fucked her with urgency, set on proving to (y/n) and to himself that she was his, his to guide, his to punish.

“You take my cock so well, I bet you dreamt of being fucked by me in a holy place, didn’t you?” His warm breath clashed against her tingling skin as he spoke his words, drawing a heavy sob out of (y/n) as she lost her grip on their surroundings. Tom’s hand moved like a snake, slithering back up to her throat to hold onto her, letting go of a raspy, “Speak when I ask you to.”

“Yes, I did. I dreamt of it.” It was a simple reply, yet it was just enough to make the priest hum in approval. He twitched inside of her as he could tell that they both were ready to let go with their hearts pounding and their limbs aching. (Y/n) struggled to breathe on as he tightened his grip on her throat, forcing her head to rest against his broad chest. The priest stared down at (y/n), her lighthouse in the darkest nights, the burning bush to rely on. An anchor of safety.

“Let go, (y/n), be honest once again.” She came with a gasp, with her eyes squeezed shut and her lips parted. A sight so ethereal, the priest followed her moments later, letting his teeth graze his lower lip to draw some blood. He pulled out of her all too quickly, to turn her back towards him with his bloody lip finding hers, “Now you’re truly mine, bound my blood.”

And who was she to deny a sinner a wish this pure? At least it was on them to pray for Satan that night, since God no longer would pick up on their calls.

#Tom Riddle smut #priest fic #Tom Riddle x reader #Tom Riddle imagine

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chamiryokuroi · 18 days

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The dream of having a house is all fun and rainbows until you are actually buying land and you cannot decide what the fuck you’re going to build in it.

Pinterest is no fucking help because each house I see I go “I want that”, and every one is in a different style, and they are probably out of my budget…

I have 3 years to make a choice before I actually can start building, and at this point I will end plopping up a tent in the lot and living out of there because I cannot choose.

#I am so so lucky I had the money for the down payment for the lot #also so lucky I found about it when I did #but man I never thought it would be this hard to actually make a choice #do I want a modern house? do I want it traditional? do I want it two floors or all in one?#one room? two? three? an office?#one parking spot? two?#and this is just thinking about the floor plan #then there is the actual floor and walls and everything else

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beginningofwonderland · 6 months

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Stay Focused - San

Pairing: university student y/n x office worker San

Genre: smut with plot (MINORS DNI!)

Word Count: 12.5k (I don't know what happened)

Summary: Your mother insists on getting you a tutor for your studies. You want to resist until you meet Choi San, your tutor. His sweet talk and good looks make you focus on anything but your studies and you do everything to finally catch his attention in the same way.

Warnings: San is a few years older (5 to be exact), some nipple play, fingering, some orgasm denial, lots of dirty talk, blowjob (face-fucking leaning), protected sex, mirror sex

The reader in this is so horny omg. Just straight up trash for San (relatable). Also very long build-up.

"Good is not enough in this family," your mother repeats to you for what feels like the 100th time. „Your grades have to be exceptional if you want to work in my business."

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you change your phone to the other hand to stir your pasta around. You just told her about your recent test results which of course are not satisfactory to her.

The problem is that you are actually doing pretty good. You never missed or failed a class, you passed all your courses with at least a good score and you had even fulfilled additional classes to broaden the spectrum of your studies. But just like she said: Good is not enough for her. She won't shut up about your grades until you reach 100% in all of your classes - which is basically impossible, especially in your field of study.

"Do you even still want to work in the family business?" your mother asks you provokingly. And the problem is, you do. You really do. Your mother is the CEO of a big pharmacy company and ever since you were a kid you followed her interest in chemistry. You even chose your pharmacy major without her influence. But now that you are taking the same path as her, she is all in your business about being the perfect little mini-her.

"I do, mom. I'm working hard on it, I promise. The next exam is in four weeks and I already started studying."

She makes a huffing sound before answering you: "You said that the last three times as well and still didn't get a full score. You should really get a tutor."

"Mom! I'm the best in my class. Why should I get a tutor? I'm doing great!" You are glad you're only talking to her on the phone so that she doesn't see the way your hands clasps over your face. She can't be serious with you. Getting a tutor with your grades is just embarrassing.

"But not great enough. You know what? The son of a close business partner recently started working at the company. He graduated a few years ago with an honour's degree and seems to be a very promising young man. I'll ask him to tutor you."

Your cheeks start to heat up just at the thought of how embarrassing the whole thing will be for you. Getting a tutor that worked for your mother is literally the worst case scenario. You feel like a high school student that doesn't pay attention in school and now gets scolded for it.

"I do not need a tutor, mom." You state once again but her mind is already made up.

"I'll give him your number and he will contact you. And don't you dare be rude to him, his father is very important for our business!"

You can't believe her words. Since when have you ever been rude to anyone she introduced you to? Your mother ends the call before you can protest any more.

Angrily, you fish a single spaghetti out of your pot to taste it. It's perfectly cooked when you munch on it in annoyance.

--------------------------------

This is Choi San.

Your mother told me you needed tutoring on your pharmacy classes and gave me your schedule.

I can teach you Tuesday and Thursday afternoon from 6PM. Would that work for you?

You fall back onto bed with a frustrated groan as you read the messages. She really asked him. Now you have no choice but agree to him tutoring you because your mother would kill you otherwise.

Typing a reply you take a deep breath. This will be such a waste of time for the both of you.

Hello! Tuesdays and Thursdays are good. Thank you so much.

You hate how pathetic you sound. What are you even thanking him for? You don't want him to tutor you and he was definitely forced by your mother so why even play pretend?

No problem. We can use meeting room 117 at the company since I reserved it for us. I'll see you on Tuesday.

You dread Tuesday every single day from now on. When it finally arrives you feel ridiculous as you enter the large building of your mother's company. You have been here countless times but you never thought you would get tutor lessons here.

Even worse is that your mother made you go greet her beforehand. She specifically texted you to visit her office before the appointment with Mr. Choi. You walk past her assistant with a polite greeting and finally enter her office.

The luxurious room sat at the top floor of the building with a nice view over the city. Sometimes you forget how successful her company actually is. It can be quiet intimidating.

"There you are," she greets you with a mere look up from a bunch of files on her desk. "I hope you prepared well for your tutoring session. Please don't embarrass yourself in front of Mr. Choi. His father is an important business partner of mine and he himself seems to be a very promising employee. I don't want my own daughter to make him think worse of the company."

Of course she only worries about the company. The idea that this is incredibly humiliating for her own daughter does not even cross her mind.

"Hello, mom. Of course I prepared well, I always do. I won't disappoint you."

She nods at you, satisfied with your answer before looking at her watch. "Then you should head to the meeting room. He is always ridiculously early for meetings so he's probably waiting for you already."

Great, you think to yourself. You hoped you would be able to grab a coffee beforehand.

"I'll go right away. Bye, mom."

You walk to the elevator with heavy steps and check your own watch. It's still fifteen minutes until 6PM so there's plenty of time to grab a coffee before, no matter what your mother might say.

Entering the elevator you select the floor of the meeting room with the plan to walk to the coffee pantry first. Half-way down, the elevator stops on a different floor. When the doors open you almost choke on your polite "Hello" as your eyes take in the person in front of you.

Walking into the elevator is easily the most attractive man you have ever seen in your life. Dressed in a tight pair of dark pants and a perfectly fitted dress-shirt the handsome stranger repeats your greeting with a small bow and a mind-numbingly attractive smile. His eyes carry a little glimmer even behind the round pair of glasses he wears and as he pushes back his black hair you feel like swooning.

You have to keep yourself from staring when he takes his place in the elevator and both of you wait for it to move. Just now you realize he hasn't pushed a button, which means he is heading to the same floor as you. Out of the corner of your eyes you can't help but watch him.

He is a few inches taller than you but appears even bigger due to his broad frame. You wonder where that man even finds clothes that fit his stature with his broad shoulders and tiny waist. He checks his most definitely expensive wrist watch before looking at the display counting down the floors.

When the elevator doors open with a ding, you almost jolt. You were so caught up in thinking about how good he looks that you didn't even notice arriving on your floor. The handsome man gestures for you to step out first with another deadly smile in your direction.

"Thank you," you barely breath out as you step out of the elevator in front of him. It feels like the air outside is ten degrees colder. Without looking back you head to the pantry of the floor. You need a coffee even more than before now that you can only think of that guy from the elevator. There is no way you can concentrate on tutoring now without some caffeine.

The benefit of being the CEO's daughter is having a card with unlimited access to the coffee machines so you happily press the button for a black coffee. At the familiar buzzing sound you can finally relax and take a deep breath. No man has ever made you so flustered before just by existing. Maybe you should visit the office more often if that was the kind of employees your mother hired.

Taking your coffee into one hand and your study bag into the other you turn around to head to the meeting room. Caught up deeply in your thoughts you almost run head first into the person behind you.

"Woah, careful there. You don't want to spill that coffee do you?" his voice is smooth like honey, with a joking tone to it. You blink up at him a few times before you find your words.

"I'm sorry. I was distracted."

The man from the elevator smiles at you and you feel your body warming up from the inside out.

"Don't worry, nothing happened." He looks you up and down quickly before holding eye contact once again.

"Excuse the question, but do you happen to be director Kim's daughter?"

You stare at him in confusion. "Yes. Yes, I am. How did you know?"

He moves past you, grabbing a cup from the pantry himself and turning on the coffee machine before he answers:

"You share her eyes. But more importantly, your bag has a pin of the pharmacy faculty of the university and because I'm supposed to meet her daughter for tutoring on this floor in - " he checks his watch again: "exactly 12 minutes, I figured it might be you."

You are impressed. His looks are already enough to have your eyes turn into hearts but there is probably nothing that makes a man more attractive to you than his wit. But what hits you even more than that is the fact that THIS was your tutor.

I take everything back mom, I love tutoring. Sign me up for another year.

"Well, you figured correctly," you reply weakly, at a loss for words. "Nice to meet you Mr. Choi."

You put your cup on the pantry table to reach your hand out to him. He takes it with a smile.

"Nice to meet you too, Miss Kim. I was going to get the two of us some coffee but as I can see you already helped yourself."

Oh, so he's a gentleman as well.

"Next time you should let me take care of that," you said showing him your free access card. "I happen to own the key to infinite coffee."

"Does the caffeine addiction come for free with that as well?" You chuckle at his joke.

"I think it's the requirement to get it in the first place."

"Well then I will happily let you get us coffee next time."

Next time, you think. The reality that you will be seeing this man on a regular basis hits you.

For a second the two of you just smile at each other. Then Mr. Choi notices that his coffee is done and he grabs the cup.

"Let's head to the meeting room then. I wouldn't want to waste your time."

You sir, can waste my time any day of the week, you think to yourself but obviously keep silent as you follow him to the room.

He holds the door open for you and you settle down onto one of the meeting chairs. You always hated these things. They are designed to make you sit upright and therefore terribly uncomfortable. You desperately want to fold one of your legs under yourself like you always do at home but you have a good image to keep. After taking a seat across from you he puts his bag onto the table and looks at you expectantly.

"So what topics exactly are you struggling with? It's been a while for me but I'm sure I can help."

"To be honest with you, I don't really need help on anything."

San raises his eyebrows behind the round glasses on his nose. "What do you mean?"

You sigh, not knowing how to explain this dilemma best. "My mother made me get a tutor because she believes I need better grades. In fact I'm the best of my year with perfect attendance and an average of 95%. She says that everything under 100% is not enough which is why she must have thought of you as a tutor."

San just stares at you with a peculiar look on his face. He looks almost impressed from your words.

"I knew director Kim could be quite strict but I had never imagined that extent. I'm sorry she made you do this, a 95% average is very impressive in the pharmacy field."

"Says someone with a perfect 100% graduation," you snap back, a little more spiteful than you want to. But San doesn't seem to take it the wrong way. Instead he chuckles in response. The sound sends shivers down your spine, his voice dipping way lower than you had expected it could.

"Trust me, that wasn't all brains. I only know my way around people." You don't doubt that last statement for even a second.

"Maybe instead of teaching I can give you some tips around the university. That would probably help you more."

Now you are interested.

"What kind of tips for example?" You lean forward resting an elbow on the table as you pick your cup of coffee up for a sip. It's still burning hot but you pretend you didn't just burn your tongue as you set it back down.

"Does Mr. Han still do the medicine lectures? He's been using the same exam template for years. Pharmacy students are just to selfish to share the results with the younger students. I'll look for my old exams later to give them to you."

Your mouth opens in awe. Everyone from the year above had told you Mr Han's exams were the hardest and it turns out they were just lying to intimidate you. The competition was real.

"These fuckers," you mumble beneath your breath but judging by his chuckle, San heard you just fine.

"Sorry," you excuse your language immediately with a small nod. He is still an employee under your mother and she told you explicitly to act well around him. Hiding your uneasiness you go for another scolding sip of coffee.

"Don't worry, darling. I won't go complaining to your mother about your language. You don't need to be her perfect little girl for me."

You almost choke on your coffee and have to force the liquid down your throat with an effort. You really wish they didn't but his words made your insides squirm. The amount of money you'd pay him to call you 'darling' again is surely an embarrassing amount. But good little girl also didn't sound too bad from his mouth.

"Thanks," you mumble, not knowing what else to say and stare onto the table to hide your flushing face. If you look at him with those slutty, round glasses right now, you're sure you'll combust.

You don't notice, but Mr. Choi eyes you up and down carefully before he resumes speaking. He smiles at your flustered state that obviously doesn't escape his sharp senses. Seeing your pretty face flush from only these few words, satisfies him deeply.

"Then how about that toxicology class? If Mr. Lim still teaches it, I know a few ways to get on his good side. He always picks favourites and it shows in the grades."

Mr. Choi continues listing off ways to better your grades around your professors. You can't help but be impressed. Not only is he obviously very intelligent but also great with people. Maybe what kept you from exceeding in your studies was your rather reserved nature in class.

"How about this," Mr. Choi finally proposes after teaching you some of his ways. "I'll get you my old notes and exams and with that you will surely ace all your tests. Then we can meet up for these tutoring sessions and while you study in peace I can get some work done. This way your mother is happy and we both profit from the situation."

You nod without hesitation. "That sounds like a great idea. Thank you so much, Mr. Choi."

He groans at your words, a sound that makes you react in a way you don't even want to put into words.

"Please don't call me Mr. Choi when we're alone that makes me feel terribly old. My name is San."

"Aren't you older than me though?" you ask back carefully. It doesn't feel right to call him by his first name.

"If 5 years are old to you?" he inquires with a slight teasing edge to his voice. You don't know if he's flirting with you or if you are just becoming a witness to this man's effortless social skills.

Truthfully, you are 22 and 5 years more don't seem that much to you. Still his way with words and the confident aura around him make him seem more mature.

"I didn't say old. Just older."

He rolls his eyes at your stubbornness, leisurely resting one of his elbows on the backrest behind him. "Just call me San, darling."

There it is again. That word single-handedly turns you into a blushing mess within seconds and you find yourself agreeing without another thought.

"Okay, San."

A satisfied smile spreads on his face and you marvel at the dimples that form on his cheeks. "Much better. Than how about you do some studying and I'll get some work done now?"

"Sounds good," you reply and start taking out your classwork. He could've told you to start stripping right now and you would've agreed without question. Damn you are down bad for him already...

It is a weird situation at first. You are used to studying around strangers in the library, but sitting alone in a room with San makes it hard to focus on your upcoming test. His eyes keep flicking from his work laptop across to you and you don't know if he's interest in the topic you're studying or you.

You yourself on the other hand are surely interested in him and you can't help but steal a few glances at him working diligently at his laptop every now and then. Even typing on his keyboard looks ridiculously hot on him with the way his slender fingers run over the keys.

After about two hours of you trying to keep your eyes on your notes San finally closes his laptop and stares at you until you reciprocate his look.

"I guess two hours is enough to make your mother think you studied, right?" he asks with one corner of his mouth slightly lifted.

"Sure," you respond weakly.

"I'll look for my old tests and will bring them on Thursday," he goes on as he stands up to pack up his laptop and bag. You also start gathering your study books.

"Thank you again," you answer lamely. But the promise of already seeing him again on Thursday excites you.

When you proceed to grab your now empty coffee cup his hands react quickly as he snatches it from you.

"Don't worry about that, I'll put those away," he's leaning over the table now, smiling at you through slightly closed eyes and you can't help but be entranced by his looks. "You should make sure to get home before it's dark outside. Want you to get home safely."

"Don't worry about me, I'll manage."

"Oh but I won't if something happens to you and your mother finds out you were last seen with me," he replies cockily as you two finally go to the door.

You have to chuckle at his remark. "Good to know I'm not the only one terrified of her."

"Everyone is terrified of her," he mumbles under his breath but you are already reaching the coffee pantry - aka your cue to go home.

"Can we use the same room on Thursday?" you ask as you stop in front of him. You make sure to brush your hair behind your ear in a nonchalant manner, knowing it shows your good angles.

"Yeah, I already booked it," San replies easily, eyes fixing yours from above. "But let's meet at the coffee machine here. I want to at least take advantage of that free coffee if I give you all my study secrets."

He winks at you at the last part of the sentence and it makes your insides twirl like on a rollercoaster. You give him a small smile through fluttering lashes. "So that's what you meant with a win-win situation: Endless coffee. Well it looks like I don't have a choice but to be your personal coffee machine."

You want to punch yourself right after that sentence leaves your mouth. How much more stupid could you possibly sound? Personal coffee machine. Saying you wanted to be his personal slut would have been less embarrassing.

But San doesn't seem to mind your awkward response. "Sounds good to me," he replies smoothly. "Then have a good ride home and I'll see you on Thursday."

"Until Thursday," you reply before you can say something stupid again and stroll off to the elevator with a small wave.

As soon as the doors close behind you, your head thumps against the steel wall. There is no way you will get any studying done with that man in the same room as you.

---------------------

Your next few meetings with San go on smoothly. You are always on time but he is still earlier than you, waiting for you at the coffee machine. You get both of you a coffee - sometimes two if you feel like it - and you two get to work in a comfortable silence sitting opposite to each other in the meeting room.

After San brought you his old exams you can now prepare exactly what you need to know for your next tests. But no matter how hard you try to focus on your studies, your eyes keep wandering from your books up to the handsome man working on his laptop.

You soon notice his seemingly endless closet full of tailored dressing shirts and perfectly matching pants. He always looks immaculate, not a single wrinkle on his shirt and his hair always neatly combed back. Even his skin is flawless to the point that you start questioning if Choi San might be a figment of your imagination.

Just like his outer appearance, his manners are immaculate. Like you already noticed on your first meeting, he is a sweet talker. Always knowing the right thing to say and never letting your conversation end in awkwardness.

Whenever he feels like taking a break you notice him starting to talk to you. At first he asks how your studies are going. Then he wanders off to the professors you two shared and how he managed to ace all his classes.

Your whole attention is glued to his lips. For one thing because the information he can provide you with is crucial to your academic development but much more importantly because his lips are the prettiest thing you have ever seen. They look so plump and smooth while he's talking that your mind can't help but wander to the other things he might be able to do with them besides talking.

If at your first meeting you were down bad for Choi San, one month later you felt like you were drowning and he was the last bit of oxygen left on earth. You wanted him with a passion that you didn't even know you were capable of.

But you couldn't have him. There was too much at stake. He still worked for your mother and if you made a move on him that he wouldn't reciprocate you would risk the eternal hate of the only woman that still held control over your life. And so far San hadn't shown any sign of feeling the same way about you that you did for him.

„You're stuck on that?" San suddenly asks you over the page of biochemistry that you've been staring at for a solid five minutes. You haven't spared a single thought on the topic in front of you. Your mind is only occupied by the thought of San leaning over you on the meeting chair, your chin in between his slender fingers as he smirks down at you. You hate him for having this effect on you when you so desperately need to focus on your studies.

You really need to get your thoughts together.

„Oh no I was just getting carried away," you answer, looking at him pointedly with a sly smile.

You tried little attacks like this on him before. A casual pull down of your shirt, stretching your arms to make it ride up over your stomach or even looking directly at his lips as he spoke. But no matter how daring you get you can never catch San slipping.

His eyes stay on yours only whenever he looks at you, his tone is always polite and never goes farther than a casual joke. You simply can't draw a single reaction from him and it drives you insane.

„Do you need a small break? We could get another coffee," he offers helpfully.

I don't want a damn coffee I want you to fuck me on this meeting table.

"I'd love to, but I'm already way too warm today. I fear the AC can't fight against the heat anymore."

It has gotten exponentially hotter over the past days and you can feel it even inside the modern building.

"You're right, it's quite hot in here," San says with a disappointed face. "What a shame we don't have iced coffee. We should get some on Tuesday!"

His eyes light up in excitement and this little sliver of pure happiness doesn't escape you. It's surprising how cute he can be with that shamelessly hot body of his.

"Do you know a place near?" You ask to drag on the conversation. You yourself know at least 3 cafés in the area that sell iced coffee but you want San to tell you a place. Maybe his favourite. So that you can go and think of him.

"Yes, I can show you!" he answers proudly.

"I'd love to." You send him a gentle smile with long eye contact before both of you look back at your work.

But your concentration withers away like the dying plant in the corner of the room when Choi San begins undoing the buttons of his shirt sleeves.

You know you shouldn't but your eyes immediately watch as his slender fingers start neatly folding up his sleeves. The muscles in his underarms dance beneath his skin as inch after inch of skin gets revealed.

You feel like a medieval man salivating over exposed ankles as you stare at San's arms. The veins are protruding in the heat and his honey skin is glistening under the bland neon lights.

Your heartbeat quickens and it's mostly because it feels like you finally found San slipping. Him rolling up his sleeves is like a crack in his perfect mask and you are certain that he wouldn't do it anywhere else in the company. He only does this because he is with you.

"Shoot," he suddenly exclaims and draws your attention up to his face. You catch the small pout that appears on his lips before he looks back at you.

"What is it?" you ask him.

"I forgot to book the meeting room for Tuesday and now everything is blocked. There is a work event next week. I should've booked it earlier."

"Oh," you simply reply. This is even more confusing. You don't believe that San would ever forget such an important event. Is he trying to get rid of you?

"Don't worry about it, darling." His smirk and the nickname has you fighting for air. "I'll find us something else."

You can only nod at him with a smile. Maybe he isn't trying to get rid of you.

The rest of your study/work time flies by as your mind thinks of all the possible meeting places you and San could have for Tuesday. You feel like a highschool girl dreaming about dates with your crush but you don't care. The man that is supposed to be tutoring you just makes your heart speed up in a way that you haven't experienced ever before.

When your meeting time comes to an end and San starts packing up his stuff he simply says: "How about we meet at my place next time? I don't like working in cafés it's always so crowded and noisy. And I have coffee too."

You snap up at him in surprise at the proposal. "Sure," you reply as nonchalantly as you can at the prospect of going to Choi San's apartment. Alone. With him.

"I can pick you up here with my car after work. So you don't have any extra way."

"That sounds good," you reply with a small smile, trying not to sound too excited.

"Then until next week," he says with one of his handsome smiles and you say your goodbyes before you can turn even redder in his presence.

When you walk onto the elevator this time and the door closes behind you, your heart is pounding into your throat. As the realization sets in that you will be alone with Choi San in his apartment a satisfied smile set over your face. Oh you will use that chance for sure.

----------------------

You spend the entire day preparing for your tutor appointment with San. Something deep inside you tells you that this behaviour is ridiculous but you push this inner voice back down as you play your favourite music and get ready.

You wear your hair in light waves and put on makeup to bring out your eyes but not look overly done up. Your outfit was a tricky matter but you settled on a classic pleated skirt and a tight long-sleeve. Everything about your appearance today lands on the thin line between innocent and suggestive and you are satisfied when you twirl around in front of the mirror.

All you want is one small reaction out of the man that you have thirsted for over the past weeks. If Choi San even so much as lets his eyes scan you up and down, your mission would be successful. Lost in your task of getting ready you almost forget to actually pack your study books before heading to your mothers company.

You two agreed on San picking you up at the company's garage. So you are taking down the elevator to the parking floor and checking yourself one last time in your phone camera before stepping into the parking lot.

Having no idea how his car looks like you pull up your chat with San, wanting to ask him where to go. But before you can type your message a calm voice calls you over from across the parking lot.

"Y/n!"

You turn around to a sight that makes your heart flutter. San is leaning onto his car, a chic black Mercedes. His white dress shirt has one button unbuttoned and his sleeves are rolled up again. His feet are crossed over each other leisurely as he waits for you to come over.

Walking up to him you have to try real hard to look casual and not like your nerves are taking over you with the impending situation of being in the same car as San for an undefined amount of time. Your heart is beating already and he hasn't even called you any nicknames yet.

"Hello, San. You're not wearing glasses today?" you notice in surprise and hope it doesn't come off as too attentive.

"Sometimes I wear contacts," he replies smoothly. "It's a styling decision."

While you love the glasses on San seeing him without has a different charm to it. Almost like he is showing you a different side of him.

"Ready to go?" you ask him to keep the conversation going and you're almost proud of your nonchalant tone.

"Ready when you are," he replies with a light smile and walks around the car to open the door for you.

Of course he opens the door for me.

Before you can get in he also takes your bag from you to store it in the back. You want to refuse but one of his smiles finally makes you give in and you hand him the bag. Finally, you thank him and sit down in the passenger seat. The car looks even nicer on the inside: leather seats and perfectly clean. Something inside you starts questioning where this man hides his flaws since noone can possibly be this perfect at all times.

"It's only a 20 minute drive," San explains as he gets into the driver's seat and turns on the engine. You can't help but watch his hands as he manages the gearshift. But as he turns around to look for obstacles his eyes get stuck on you. For a second you think you got him. That his eyes linger on you for a little too long because you finally pulled a reaction out of him.

"You haven't even put your seatbelt on, darling."

And with that your mind is blank. Simple emptiness.

Before you can react, his hand reaches past you, grabbing the seatbelt and plugging it in. His hand doesn't so much as grace your shoulder for a millisecond but you feel like your lungs are constricting.

"Thanks," you breath out before he finally pulls out of the parking spot. He does that wildly attractive thing where he put his hand on the back of the passenger's seat while driving backwards and you feel like losing it already. How will you survive being in the same apartment with this man. San however seems his usual chatty self.

"I'm sorry again for not booking the meeting room in time. I already reserved it for the weeks to come," he starts talking to you.

"Don't worry. I totally don't mind," you answer and regret it immediately. Did that sound too eager? Something about Sam's presence makes you overthink every single word you say.

"I have a fancy coffee machine at home so I can at least return the favour of you getting me coffee all the time."

You smile at that. It feels like this little inside thing between you two how you always use your company privileges to pay for both of your coffee. San thanks you every single time, bringing up how much you save his day.

"I never thought you were that much of a coffee guy at home too," you say trying to get him to tell you more about himself.

"You're acting like I didn't go through pharmacy as well!" He replies with a slightly sulky tone. "No way to survive that major without getting addicted to coffee."

You chuckle at his response. "That's true unfortunately. So you just carried the addiction into your job?"

"You could state it like that but by buying a fancy machine you can just say that coffee is your hobby instead."

Whenever you two talk about mundane topics like this you can't help but be glued to his lips. To get a glimpse of the Choi San that isn't working over-hours all the time and kept up his perfect image at all costs. You want to find out the details about him. Like how he enjoys his coffee or what colour he might like best.

You continue the drive in casual chatter like this before finally reaching your destination. As San pulls into an underground parking lot of an apartment building your heart rate quickens again. Something about seeing his apartment makes you incredibly nervous.

He tells you to wait inside the car after he lets the motor die down so that he can open the door for you again. Even this small gesture has you wrapped around his finger and you smile as you try to step out of the car as gracefully as you can.

San leads you into an elevator and as soon as the doors close you feel reminded of your first meeting. Of how he took your breath away just by standing next to you in such a small space. And now there isn't much difference. He still makes you just as nervous. But at least you can talk to him now.

"How is studying for your exams going so far?" He asks casually.

"It's okay," you reply lamely. "I'm trying my best."

"You know if you actually do need my help you can obviously ask me," he offers alluding to your deal of him basically just getting his own work done instead of tutoring you.

"You've already helped me so much. All I need to do now is actually study," you say turning down his argument.

You idiot, you think to yourself. You could've at least pretended to need his help.

You wait in silence as the remaining floors rush past you. You're surprised with every passing number, wondering what floor San might be living on. But the elevator doesn't stop until the highest floor.

San let's you exit first which makes no sense to you since you don't know where to go. So you wait for him to show you the way to his apartment.

As soon as he unlocks the door and leads you two inside you curiously scan his place. On a first glance it looks almost exactly like you expected: it's very clean and tidy, the furniture is modern and rather minimalistic and the whole place carries a simple colour theme of black and chrome with only hints of colour. The entrance leads straight into an open living room that connects to the kitchen.

"Make yourself at home at the dinner table," San offers while gesturing at the big, black table that looks like straight out of a design magazine.

You both place your shoes neatly at the entrance of his apartment before you take your bag to the table. As you choose a seat from which you can look outside the gigantic window front, San heads over to the kitchen, getting something from a cupboard.

"Can I get you a glass of water before I make some coffee?" He asks you with a kind smile.

"That would be nice," you answer even though water was not what you were craving right now.

He filled one for you and brought it over before returning to the kitchen. "You want your coffee hot or iced?"

"Iced? This is better service than at the company. You should forget to book the meeting room more often." It's a weak attempt at flirting with him but he laughs non the less.

"So iced it is?" He confirms with you again and turns on his electric coffee grinder after you nod approvingly.

It shouldn't captivate you that much, looking at him while he was performing such a basic task as making coffee. But you could watch him for hours, the way his broad back stretches out his dress shirt. The way he moves around so smoothly. The way the muscles in his arms flex as he handles his espresso machine.

You turn towards your study materials just in time before he faces you again, two iced coffees in his hands. He places one gently in front of you before he sits down opposite of you.

"Thank you," you smile at him extra sweetly.

"Anything you want, darling."

You swear to yourself that if he calls you darling one more time you will throw all rational thoughts out of the window and straddle him right here in his stupid designer living room chair. But for now you settle for a coy smile as you feel your cheeks heat up.

To add to your demise, as San drags his chair closer to the table both of your knees touch for a brief second before he casually changes his seating position. The table is narrower than the one in the meeting room and knowing that your legs are mere inches from another makes you even more delusional. What if he did that on purpose?

After that, all concentration for your studies is far gone. It doesn't help at all that the iced coffee he made you was the best you had in ages and with every sip you keep wondering what Choi San isn't good at.

I just know he fucks good there's no other way, you think to yourself but get interrupted in your thoughts.

"Are you stuck on something?" San asks you and you almost don't even dare to raise your eyes to look at him. A kind of shame overcomes you as you realize what you have been thinking about while he worries about your studies.

You sigh to buy yourself time to find an answer that doesn't include: Yes, I'm stuck because I can't think of anything but your body on top of mine.

"Yeah, I just can't seem to concentrate well lately. Maybe I'm stressed out because of my finals."

It isn't fully a lie. Your finals are approaching steadily and with you thirsting over your tutor instead of studying you are indeed starting to worry.

"I would love to tell you that grades don't matter too much but I know your mother won't agree and I will probably face her anger too if you fail," he laughs at the end of his sentence to lighten the mood but quickly notices he only stressed you more by saying that.

"I'm sorry," he quickly retracts. It feels like the first time you caught him messing up his smooth way of talking which in return makes you smile.

"No, you're right. I just never thought about the fact that she will hate both of us if I mess up. What a way to relax."

"I shouldn't have said that," San again apologizes. "I'm sure you will do amazing though. After all you studied so much."

He finishes his sentence with a wink and you must stare at him for a second like an idiot. Did you just imagine that? Or is he alluding to something? Does Choi San know that you thirsted for him this entire fucking time?

But his further actions don't allow you to think much more.

"You look quite tense actually," he continues. "You know it's not good for your back to sit stiff like this for a prolonged amount of time. Your neck must be hurting?"

You have no idea what he is talking about. And your confusion only grows as San gets up from his chair heading in your direction. Every step he comes closer to you has your heart pumping erratically. Even though you dreamed about him being closer to you and finally paying you more attention you are now paralysed at the situation unfolding. Simply being close to him renders your entire body useless.

San steps behind you and, to your absolute shock and amazement, his hands gently grasp your shoulders.

"To compensate the stress from university I took a physiology course that taught us how to massage tense muscles."

As if to proof his words his thumbs gently start rubbing circles into your neck. The warmth of his fingers seeps through your thin shirt and fills your entire body. It feels like he set you on fire with this simple touch.

All of this cannot be real. This must be a figment of your imagination or you actually fell asleep on your study notes while dreaming about San. But his voice sounds very much real when he resumes:

"You have to relax, otherwise I'll hurt you." His voice drops lower than usual and as he gently drapes your hair over one shoulder to get it out of his way you can feel his breath fanning over your neck. Goosebumps erupt all over your skin.

But amid the fire burning in your veins and your clouded mind you actually manage to ease into his fingers and allow him to loosen up your muscles.

"That's a good girl," he rasps behind you and you know you tipped over the edge now. There is no going back from this. You feel like a doll in his hands. His words are electrifying, leaving you unable to utter a single word, to make a single sound. Your mind is running on a state of emergency. Nothing seems to get to you but the fact that San is touching you.

And oh is he good at it. His hands are pressing into all the right places relieving all the pent up tension you built ever since getting ready for this meeting today. If his fingers are already this good at massaging out your stress you can't help but think about what else they can do.

"How do you feel?" He asks. His voice is still low and his tone taunting, as if he knows exactly what he's doing to you.

"Better," you answer. Your voice is merely a whisper. You sound weak, even in your own ears, and wonder if he even heard you.

"Yeah? Then how is this?" With his question his thumbs dip beneath the collar of your shirt and massage your upper back a little lower.

You can't help but close your eyes. The low tone of his voice, his fingers on your skin and the playfulness of his words. All of this is so overwhelming you can only lean back and revel in his touch.

"It feels so good," you manage to breath out when you realize he asked you a question.

He bends down a little, his mouth now right next to your ear. "Should I make you feel even better?"

He is quite literally the devil on your shoulder. Everything in your body screams for you to say yes immediately. The unspoken promise has your entire body on fire and you almost give in to your desire. But a tiny speck of reasonable thinking pulls you back into the dangerous territories you are moving in right now.

"What do you mean?" you ask carefully. You know that this is everything you wanted for the past few weeks but still you can't help being confused about his sudden change.

His left hand wanders from your back to your chin, tilting it to the side so you can look at him. The look in his eyes sends a shiver down your spine. His pupils are dilated and he is looking at you like he is preying on you. The intensity is something you have never seen in him before.

"You are far too smart to be asking that question, darling," he replies smugly.

"But you were never interested in me?" You ask back and want to hit yourself on the spot. Why are you even asking questions when the man you've desired for weeks finally seems to be making a move on you? But after all he is acting very out of character.

San chuckles, never taking his eyes off of you. "You're so cute. All these weeks that you've been wanting me and now you ask what I'm doing?"

Your mouth opens in shock. So he did in fact know all this time that you were interested in him.

"Don't act all surprised now, darling. You really thought I didn't see the way you looked at me ever since we first met? How your eyes keep focusing on my arms in my tight shirts. How you steal glances at me when you think I'm not looking? I wanted to see how long I could leave you thirsting like this before you would break."

His confession has you gasping as you realize you weren't even faintly as indiscreet as you thought you were. Instead San was playing with you the entire time. Watching your every move.

"Desperation looks so cute on you," he adds with another devilish smile. His fingers continue drawing circles into your back as his burning eyes keep you fixed in your spot. You feel bewitched by his entire presence, like he has cast a spell on you.

"I made all this effort to get you into my apartment so we both don't have to risk our lives by having me ruin you on the meeting table and still you didn't even have a clue. I'm almost disappointed if you weren't so cute when you are surprised like this." A satisfied grin plays around his plump lips, as if he revelling in the taste of this sweet opportunity in his hands. "Now be a good girl for me and finally do what you've been wanting to do for weeks. Tell me you want me."

You haven't taken a single breath since he started talking and as a result your head feels dizzy. It takes a short moment before you can finally form the words that your head is screaming at you.

"Please," you whisper pathetically.

"Please what, darling?" San revels in the way you can barely speak.

"Please ruin me."

You can basically see the fire behind his eyes ignite as you speak those three words. His hand wanders to your cheek, grabbing it firmly. He takes his sweet time to let his thumb run over your bottom lip, eyes trailing after his own movement.

"With pleasure."

Finally, his lips press onto yours in a desperate kiss. They feel just as soft as they always looked to you, but he kisses you with a roughness that is almost contradictory. The combination is intoxicating. As you reciprocate the kiss, heat runs through your limbs in shockwaves.

Suddenly impatient, San interrupts the kiss to pull you up and out of the chair by your arms. Grabbing your waist he manhandles you onto the dinner table instead, lifting you onto the ledge as if it was nothing.

Your hands bury in his hair as both your lips meet again in a rushed embrace. In return, San wedges one of his legs between yours and spreads your knees so he can stand between them. The way he handles you makes heat pool in your core. San has a determination to his every move that makes you want to do whatever he could want from you.

One of his hands still tightly grasping your waist, the other winds in your hair as he deepens the kiss. When his tongue enters your mouth you arch your back wanting to diminish every centimetre between you two. Your head is dizzy, completely overwhelmed by his every touch.

San's firm hands are restless on your heated body. His fingers quickly find a way to shift under your shirt and his thumb draws circles into the bare skin of your stomach. Choi San feels like a drug. His touch just as intoxicating as you always dreamed it to be.

He removes his mouth from your lips only to latch onto the fragile skin behind your ears, kissing his way around your neck. You let your head fall back to give him better access and when he starts sucking on your skin you relieve a small whimper.

You can feel San smirking into your skin as he sucks even more. It's like he has found your weakness and is now shamelessly using it to make you melt beneath his fingers. And it's working so well. Your hands lose grip on his hair as you lose your ability to focus on anything but San's lips on your neck.

"Don't tap out on me already, darling. I'm only getting started," he rasps into your ear in between kisses. You draw in a shaky breath at his words. Your legs feel like jelly even as your sitting down and you just know you won't be able to walk after San is finished with you.

He finally withdraws his lips and for a second just revels in your already dishevelled form: hair messy, red flush to your cheeks and lips glossy from kissing him.

"I'd love to have you on my dinner table but let's take this somewhere more comfortable for now," he says in a soft voice.

Hooking his hands under your thighs he picks you up from the table, carrying you towards his bedroom. Woken up from your trance by the change of motion you suddenly gain back some of your bite. While San is busied with carrying you, your fingers rush to the collar of his dress shirt. Oh how often you have dreamed of popping open those buttons one by one. And finally you have the pleasure to do so. A soft chuckle makes his chest move in front of you as San looks down on your actions.

"You couldn't wait, could you?"

"Why would I?" you reply cheekily as your hand smooths over his now exposed skin. He feels so soft and hot under your fingertips that you don't think you'll ever be able to detach.

San throws open his bedroom door with his shoulder and before you have a chance to take in the room you are thrown onto the plush bed. He follows behind immediately, hovering over you with both hands propped up next to your head. He lets his eyes run over your figure lazily, up and down.

"Don't even know where to start with you," he mumbles half to himself and half to you as he watches your chest rise and fall in heavy breaths. He decides to put on a show, sitting back on his heels and slowly continuing your work in unbuttoning his shirt.

Apart from his skin being exposed the simple act of opening some buttons shouldn't drive you as crazy as it does right now. It's simply the sexiest thing you have ever seen in your life. The way his hooded eyes stay on yours the entire time while one button after another falls open under his practiced movements.

You are moving on autopilot when you also sit up to take off your own shirt. You simply can't delay this any further. As your shirt lands somewhere beside the bed, San lets out a small groan, surprising you. He stopped in the middle of folding down his sleeves.

"How did you know that purple was my favourite colour?" He asks in a raspy voice. His eyes are raking over your deep purple bra with a desire in them that lets shivers run over your skin.

You can't imagine a better way to find out his favourite colour. You only chose it because it accentuates your skin tone but now it feels like fate to you. Finally, you are getting to the edges of Choi San. Getting to know him on a level that you were craving like the air you needed to breath.

"Good intuition," you reply. Your confidence surges under his heavy glances. Maybe a little too much. "Need help with that?" you ask him teasingly with a nod towards his shirt, which hangs open around his toned torso.

As soon as you speak those words you are getting pinned back to the bed, San's hand suddenly wrapped around your neck. He isn't putting any pressure on it yet but you can feel his strength pulsating around your neck. His broad shoulders are taking up most of your vision and with the way he glares at you you just know that you are soaked.

"Don't get too bold with me, darling," he says in a warning tone. "I'm the one in charge."

You look up at him through big, round eyes, lashes fluttering because you have a feeling that it will push just the right buttons in him.

"Go ahead then," you reply firmly. "Do whatever you want to me."

San sits up again and roughly tugs on his sleeves, finally discarding his shirt fully. Then his lips are on yours again in a heartbeat.

You greedily let your hands wander over his now fully exposed upper body. The muscles playing under his skin feel so good as he buries his hands in your hair. His biceps is so big that your fingers can barely wrap around it halfway. You can't get enough of touching his body which so far you only admired in fitted dressing shirts.

San kisses his way down from your lips again but this time he doesn't stop at your neck. Continuing down your chest he kisses the tender skin between your breasts. When he takes both hands to squish your breasts together, burying his face in between, you lose your last bit of composure.

"Please, San. Please just fuck me."

He lifts his head to smile at you devilishly. The fire behind his eyes seems so bright that you're scared it will never burn down again.

"Already begging for me? You're still half dressed and I'm only starting. Have a little patience."

As he finishes his words, his hand snakes behind your back to open your bra in a swift motion. He peels the straps off of you with a new found patience that makes you feel like you are suffocating.

When the piece of clothing lands on the floor, San's eyes are glued to your chest. Slowly, he lowers himself down again, gently taking on of your nipples into his mouth. As soon as his tongue starts lapping at you a string of moans escape you. He just feels so good.

Without ever losing focus on kissing and nipping on your chest, one of his hands wanders to your skirt. He finds the zipper so easily it feels like he has studied undressing you. He pushes it down your legs quickly, leaving you only in your underwear.

As his hand starts stroking your inner thighs, your eyes roll to the back of your head. He feels like a dream.

"Please San. Please touch me," the words leave your mouth in whispers. Silent pleas for him to finally give you what you want.

"Is my darling so stressed from studying that she needs her mind taken off of things?" His fingers trail over your clothed heat as he asks you in a sickly sweet voice. His eyes are focussed on your face, taking in how you crumble beneath his touch.

"Yes. Yes, please," you whimper desperately. Every touch feels like electricity on your skin.

"Want me to stuff you full so you can forget everything you've studied for for weeks?" He pushes your panties to the side, his fingers toying at your entrance.

"Please San..." you repeat yourself weakly. Finally he gives into your pleading and sinks two of his fingers into you. You are so wet that they glide in with ease. You suck in a harsh breath as he begins pumping them in and out of you.

"God you feel so good. Can't wait to fuck you, my darling. Bury my cock so deep into you you forget your own name."

His words make you shake beneath him. You had a lot of suspicions about San in the bedroom due to your extensive daydreaming about him. But never did you expect him to be so vocal and downright dirty with his words. It catches you off-guard and only heightens your pleasure.

San scoots up on the bed a little so his face is hovering over yours again, while he slips a third finger into your heat. "How do I feel?" he asks with a raspy tone to his voice.

"You feel so fucking good, San," you moan in answer. His fingers stretch you out so deliciously and he reaches this spot deep inside you that makes you arch your back with every thrust.

"Yeah, you wanna come on my fingers?" he rasps into your ear now, lips again attaching to your neck, sucking deep marks into your skin.

"Please, San." You feel like a broken record that's repeating the same thing over and over. You grow closer and closer to an orgasm with every motion of his fingers inside you. But San has other plans for you. And when he feels you desperately clenching around his fingers, he pulls them out of you.

"I'm sorry darling," he says immediately, even though his face doesn't display any regret. "But you look so pretty when you're desperate. And I want you to come on my cock when I make you fall apart for the first time."

You feel like crying. You want nothing more but to come and yet him taking it from you only makes you want him more. You would do anything for Choi San.

He stands up from the bed and opens his belt. But before he can take of his pants, he orders you over with a motion of his finger. You sit on your knees at the edge of the bed in seconds, looking up at him expectantly.

He doesn't say a word and only gestures for his painfully strained pants. You don't need any more hints to start opening his pants and pulling them down his legs desperately. You hook your fingers into his boxers too but look up at him once more before continuing. When he nods at you you finally pull them down as well.

You can't help but stare at San's length. He's big, just like you had always imagined and he was rock-hard. When San takes himself into his hand and gives himself a few strokes you open your mouth on your own, sticking out your tongue in anticipation of tasting him.

San starts gently. His other hand weaves into your hair and he pulls you onto his length slowly. You are able to take a good amount of him before his tip hits the back of your throat and you release a surprised moan. San closes his eyes momentarily as he relishes in the feeling of your hot mouth around him.

"Shit, you feel so good," he rasps out before he starts thrusting in and out of your mouth. Your hands seek hold on his muscular thighs and you look up at San through big and pleading eyes. Even though he isn't pleasuring you, this almost feels as good as having him bury his fingers inside you. All you ever dreamed about was him using you just like this and the feeling of it happening is so intoxicating you feel like you might pass out any second.

"Look at you enjoying my cock so damn much, that your eyes are losing focus," San chuckles. He looks down at you in disbelief as you mindlessly swirl your tongue around his cock. "You love being ruined by me, don't you?"

You can only manage a desperate nod and approving grunt as you continue sucking him of. No man has ever made you this desperate. As you look at him from beneath you feel like you have accomplished everything you ever wanted: his hair was dishevelled, his breaths uneven and a red tint painted his cheeks. All in all, Choi San lost his perfectly maintained appearance as you sucked on his cock and to you he looked 100 times prettier this way.

When his thrusts go sloppy, he pulls out of your mouth in a haste before he can come. "You're driving me crazy, darling," he grunts as he catches his breath for a second. In a more gentle tone he resumes: "Lay back on the bed for me, ok?"

You do as he says, laying down on your back in the middle of the bed, your body buzzing with the anticipation of what is to come. San goes to his dresser, opening a drawer to get a condom.

When he climbs over you he looks at you intensely. But at the same time his eyes hold a softness that makes you feel secure.

"Are you sure about going on, y/n?" he asks warmly. No petnames this time. He wants a clear answer.

"Never been so sure in my life," you reply with a smile and his lips mirror yours as he beams down at you.

Quickly he sits up to open the condom and roll it onto his member. Opening your legs with his knee he situates himself between you and positions his cock at your entrance. One hand on your hip and the other holding his cock, he slowly sinks himself into you while carefully observing your face.

Your eyes flutter when he is fully inside of you and you moan at the feeling. San releases a grunt as well and waits a few seconds deep inside of you.

"Fuck, you're so tight for me, my darling. Don't worry I won't stop this time until you come." And with that he starts thrusting into you. He begins with slow and deep thrusts but as soon as you get used to his size he speeds up rapidly.

His abs are flexing underneath is skin as he grabs onto your hip and pistons himself into you. With every thrust you can feel him hit this spongy part deep inside of you that makes heat build in your core with a throbbing intensity. Meanwhile you revel in the sight above you: San looks like a god. His muscular body moving above you is almost enough to push you over the edge but what's even more entrancing is his face. His expressions seem almost possessed. Like a demon took over him as soon as he started fucking you, he fixes his eyes onto yours.

"Am I fucking you good? Making you forget all your precious studies?" There they are again. His filthy words driving you down a one-way-road to insanity. "I hope you forget everything so you have to see me even more, darling. Then I can keep on fucking this tight little cunt over and over again."

"Fuck, San!" you moan out, being shocked by his words. His control over you is baffling and you can't help but grow closer and closer to your orgasm with every word.

"I know you like me like that, darling. Do me a favour and come on my cock so I can finally see you lose yourself will you?"

You can't form an answer. Endless moans tumble out of your mouth in increasing volume and San knows he has you exactly where he wants.

"Come for me."

Your orgasm hits you with an explosive intensity. Faintly, you notice yourself moan at a concerning volume as your high washes over your body. But San doesn't seem to mind. Your legs are shaking and he helps you ride out the feeling with slower strokes. He waits for your breath to slow down again before he leans down to you and places a gentle kiss onto your lips.

"I want you on your knees in front of me," he says sweetly as soon as your lips separate and your head is spinning. Still you manage to get up with the help of his arm beneath your waist and you let yourself be positioned in front of San, your back to him.

Since you didn't have the opportunity to examine his bedroom earlier you only now notice the big mirror on his wardrobe next to his bed. Looking ahead, you can now see yourself on your knees, sitting in front of San.

You look even more dishevelled than you feel: Your hair is all over the place and some of your eyeliner smudged and a handful of dark purple marks littering your neck. Also, a red tint covers your skin, making you look flushed. San behind you smirks as you examine your own figure.

"You look so pretty all messed up like this for me, don't you think?"

His arm wraps around your waist as he leans your body back onto his broad chest. You look tiny in front of his build.

"I'll make you look even prettier," he promises as he sinks himself back into you.

He picks up his intense pace from before and you already feel dizzy again. With his arm holding you tight he is basically lifting you up and down his cock. At this angle he is hitting you deeper than before and you are sure you won't last very long until your next high.

But nothing could've prepared you for the feeling of San winding his other arm around you too, his fingers gently starting to stroke your clit. Your head falls back onto San's shoulder as you give in to the mind-numbing pleasure that starts buzzing through your body.

"Keep your eyes on me, darling. I want to watch you fall apart."

His voice sounds sulky, almost cute. It doesn't match his relentless thrusts and his fingers pleasuring you. It takes all your strength to lift your head again and look at San through the mirror. His eyes are hooded now, a shin layer of sweat making his flawless skin shine in the evening light.

"You make me feel so good," you manage to say as San keeps on pounding into you. You want him to know how he makes you feel. How good he is being to you.

"Am I?" He smiles in satisfaction as he watches your brows draw together with a particularly deep thrust. "You too, darling. You feel so good around me I don't think I can last much longer. But you'll come one more time for me, right?"

His voice sounds so deep and sultry in your ears. "Of course, Sannie," you mumble absent-mindedly. You don't even notice the nickname until he chuckles behind you.

"How can you be so cute and so sexy at the same time? You'll be the death of me, my good little girl."

He places a kiss onto your cheek and that is what finally drives you over the edge.

"Fuck, San. I'm coming," you moan out before your high crashes over you. If he wasn't holding you, you would fall to the ground. You try to hold eye contact with San through the reflection but your eyes keep on shutting as waves of pleasure roll over you. You have never felt such an intensity before.

But San's thrust don't slow down this time. He keeps on rutting into you relentlessly, driving you to insanity. You feel like you're swimming in a pool of pleasure.

"I'm close, darling. Just a little longer," San's voice is pitched higher than before, sounding just as desperate as you feel. You want nothing more but for him to come.

"Please, Sannie. I want you to come so bad."

Your desperate pleas are San's final straw. Clutching your body tight to his own, he finishes with his cock buried deep inside you. You can feel him pulsating in your heat and your moans mix into his grunts as you milk him for every last drop of his cum.

As you both slowly recover San pulls out of you and gently lays you back onto the bed. You can't do anything but catch your breath while he gets up to rid himself of the condom and return to you with a glass of water.

"Drink something," he urges you on and you take the glass from him. He watches you with a tinge of worry in his eyes. After taking a few sips you offer the glass back to him.

"You should drink some too, I'm sure you worked your body more than I did."

He smiles at your words and takes some water too before returning the glass to his bedside table. When he looks back at you there is a heaviness to his gaze that worries you.

"What is it?" you ask.

San takes a deep breath before answering you. "No matter what I said to you before, I actually didn't expect us to tumble into this as quickly as we did right now. And I want you to know that I didn't do this to use you or take any advantage of you."

His hand nervously grabs for the back of his neck. "Actually, I've been interested in you ever since we first met but I fear the tension between us was quicker than both of us."

You try to process his words even in your hazy state of mind. A spark of excitement surges through your body as you realize what he is saying.

"I feel the same, San," you reply truthfully. "I like you. And not just because you're insanely handsome."

You are glad when he laughs shyly at your words.

"So maybe I can take you out on a date that doesn't involve work or pharmacy studies sometime?"

"I hope sometime means this week, because I waited long enough for you already."

After everything that happened this evening, this moment when he smiles at you might be what makes your heart beat the fastest. You can't believe your luck as you look Choi San into the eyes and he leans in for a kiss.

-----------------

"This was a stupid idea," you say to San but maybe more to yourself. "I should tell her alone."

"How will she ever respect me again if I let you do this alone?" San replies worriedly. "She told me to tutor you and now here we are. I will look terrible either way."

You have never seen him this nervous. But after all, your mother has the ability to make everybody scared for their life. You two pass her assistant's desk with a polite greeting as you head straight for your mother's office. She knows you are coming but she doesn't know you're bringing company.

You knock carefully on the door until her voice calls you in. Your mother stays seated as you two enter the room. She doesn't look surprised or confused about San's appearance but rather intrigued.

"Why are you visiting me today, y/n?" she asks simply.

Your heart is beating out of your chest as you prepare for answering.

"I have something to announce to you," you start off as confident as you can.

Your mother's eyes flick between you and San. "Go on."

"San- ... Mr. Choi and I, we are..." your voice is shaking. Why is this so hard for you?

But San grabs for your hand, linking his fingers with yours as he confidently finishes your sentence: "We are in a relationship, director Kim."

His boldness strikes you as admiring. Maybe he was right about accompanying you.

A silence that draws out unbearably long fills the room. You feel like your lungs are being compressed with every passing second.

Then your mother smiles. It's not exactly a smile of happiness. It speaks more of victory.

"Finally," she announced. "It took you two longer than I expected."

Now it's your turn to be silent. Both you and San are stunned in your places.

Finally you find your voice to ask: "What do you mean, mom?"

She smiles at you in satisfaction.

"You see: Mr. Choi is a good man. He's a gentleman, treats his colleagues with the utmost respect, excels at his job and is handsome too. How could I find a better match for my beloved daughter? But I know you wouldn't be interested if I were to formerly introduce you two so I thought I'd help you in a different way."

Your mouth falls open in shock. Out of all things, your mother purposefully setting you up with San has never even crossed your mind. Your boyfriend seems even more shocked at the revelation than you, his face reddened and a stunned expression on his face.

"So you set us two up?" You finally ask your mother.

"Of course I did! And it worked out brilliantly, don't you think? I'm glad you both came to tell me. Mr. Choi?"

San perks up at her words. "Yes?"

"I assume you will take good care of my daughter?"

"Of course I will," he replies sternly, voice full of sincerity. "I will do everything care for y/n." His words make you feel warm and fuzzy.

Your mother nods approvingly. "Then you two may leave. I still have work to do."

You both nod hastily and thank your mother before turning back for the door.

"Oh, before I forget. Y/n?" your mother asks one last time.

"Yes?"

"I received your test results that you sent me. They look very promising."

I hope you enjoyed <3 Pls reblog and leave feedback if you can :)

Tags: @voicesinmyhead-rc

#ateez x reader #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #beginningofwonderland #smut fanfic #ateez fanfiction #san smut #san x y/n #san x reader #san fanfic #san x you

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cinnaamela · 1 year

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A Sloppy First With Carlos?

Pairings: Carlos Oliveira x Fem! Reader

Summary: You have been dating Carlos for quite some time and finally decide to let him claim you as his own, but it is more like some sloppy sex.

Cw. Smut (nsfw), p in v, praise, virgin reader gets their first time wit carlos, dom carlos?, some begging, needy/desperate reader, a bit body worship if you squint ur eyes just a bit, possessive & a bit of cocky carlos, relationship had already been established yet we skipping to the part of where he just gives u a sloppy first time just to enjoy every moment of him inside you! This man is gonna make you a milf after he’s done fr fr want u to be the momma to his kids. Some fluff at the end there is def aftercare but I got too lazy to write it….

A/N: I’ve never written for Carlos before, so this is my first time writing for him and feel free to give me feedback!

SMUT AHEAD!! MINORS DNI!

Carlos Oliveira is definitely a charming guy when it came to women, but that all changed when you came into his life. He became so tough and cocky around you and others that it made him the kind of guy who didn’t let himself be vulnerable in front of people. It also caused you to fall for him a little bit faster. That was exactly what you wanted. Someone strong, and not afraid of showing it. The only problem with your choice was that he wasn’t exactly someone to get along with very well and was even more of an asshole than he already was.

Not something you expected from a man like that. But if it meant you could feel secure in his arms, then so be it. You could live with any kind of attitude. If he just wanted to keep you safe then so be it. You wouldn’t mind at all, actually. You enjoyed being near him, even if it made your heart beat faster and butterflies flutter in your stomach. You thought his roughness was sexy, even if you were slightly scared of him sometimes. And as long as there wasn’t going to be too much violence in the future, maybe you would be able to handle things better. Just give him some time, yet It wasn’t like you couldn’t deal with the bad side of him.

I mean he could be a total dickhead at times, sure, but you could tolerate that, too. He still respected you, afterall, and that was what really mattered. As long as you were happy and satisfied in his arms. And you had been that all this time. All your years of dating with a guy like Carlos Olivera didn’t go wrong. He treated you right, despite your flaws and his ego.

His ego brings out the best in him wether it’s in bed or out of bed, so there is no doubt about what you saw with him in bed that night. He was absolutely gentle, but rough when he kisses you sloppily, his hands firm when they roamed your body, and he took his pleasure in making you squirm underneath him. His tongue is hot and insistent in licking every inch of your skin and his fingers are rough and warm when they caress your breasts through the thin cotton fabric of your tight dress. And his eyes. Oh, Carlos’ eyes looked as if they were dark pools filled with lust and possessiveness. Without hesitation he took off his pants dropping them to the floor, his erection already trying to poke out the side of his boxers. You tried to take his boxers off although he had prioritized in spreading your legs apart and placed his hard member between them, foremost, further apart.

Fingers had trailed straight under the waistband of your dress while his hands started ripping your dress off, and your bra followed. With quick movements he tore the straps and panties away leaving you bare beneath his gaze, completely naked from head to toe. His lips left yours. Carlos began to apply lube to his hardened and throbbing cock, before slowly inserting it inside you, setting a slow movement in and out of you in a way that was torturous in itself. You whimpered from the sensation, but his grip on your hips tightened making the pain go away momentarily. Sloppily beginning to thrust into you, his pace quickened until he hit a certain spot that made you scream with pleasure. “Oh, God...” you moaned breathlessly before closing your eyes.

You never felt that way with anyone else. This is not your first time to say the least, but definitely better than masturbation to say the least. It made you feel so incredibly sensitive that it left you weak, yet at the same time it made you feel powerful and desirable. “That’s my girl…” he growled in a deep voice, grabbing one of your wrists and positioning it over your head as he continued hitting your sweet spot with his thick shaft. You moaned again while tears filled your eyes from the intense pleasure he gave you.

Your breathing started becoming erratic as he kept slamming his heavy cock into you with such force. He held your face, placing soft kisses all over your exposed cheeks and neck, causing goosebumps to appear on your flesh. “You feel so good, baby...” he whispered against your ear. Soon following after with, “Fuck… I’m gonna cum if you keep this up...”

“Don’t stop...” you begged breathless, feeling a shiver go down your spine as Carlos continued pumping his stiffening cock inside you. He kept pressing harder, making you cry out and bite your lip hard to prevent yourself from begging for mercy. “Please don’t stop….” You could hear your own voice quiver slightly, almost like a sob. In a moment you lost your restraint, and threw your head back, arching your back as you screamed loudly. A loud moan escaped your mouth as waves of ecstasy washed over you, and your muscles started tingling from his relentless thrusts into you.

He was getting close, you could tell, and soon he won't hold himself anymore. “Carlos…” you murmured, unable to finish your sentence because your breath was short and labored, and your voice was hoarse from screaming out.

You needed him to get you to your climax and come, now, now, now, you thought.

“Please..please…” you whimpered, feeling your body shaking with both excitement and desperation. Suddenly, everything came rushing in.

The orgasm. Carlos.

Your surroundings. Carlos’ name coming out of your mouth, His scent surrounding your whole being. You felt as if you were being penetrated by a monstrous cock very sloppily, even though you were. His warm and hard cock rubbing against your inner walls in time with his frantic thrusts. “Almost there… ah- hold out a little longer, baby…” Carlos grunted out of breath, panting heavily, his entire body trembling. Your breathing was starting to come out ragged as well, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you climaxed once again. “That’s it, baby… Come for me…” The next few minutes passed by in a blur, each second passing with such intensity it was overwhelming you. Carlos finally stopped after a while, releasing his cum inside you.

Your throat was sore and raw from screaming and your muscles were tense and sore from all the stretching, while your back was arched which he forced you to do as your climax hit. Carlos laid beside you and pulled the sheets up around you as he kissed your temple. "Are you alright?" Your mind was fuzzy as you nodded and snuggled closer into his chest. "...Yeah," was your reply, barely above a whisper. Your eyelids were glued shut, as you struggled to stay awake.

Carlos chuckled softly. "Did I fuck you that hard?" You shook your head and mumbled in reply that you loved how wild he got. "Mmm...you're welcome." After a while you felt tired and sleep began creeping onto your consciousness. Carlos seemed to sense this and wrapped his arms tightly around you to keep you warm as he nuzzled his nose against your cheek. "Get some rest, baby," he said quietly. You hummed in response as you relaxed into his hold, letting yourself drift off to sleep.

You were so tired that you were able to ignore the sound of heavy breathing, but it eventually woke you up when the covers moved slightly. Opening your eyes, and noticing your boyfriend staring at you intently. "Hey...sorry did I wake you up? Go back to sleep..." he whispered kissing the top of your head as he ran his hands gently through your hair. You buried your face deeper into his chest, and let out a small sigh as you cuddled up to his chest. Carlos laughed again, running his hand through your hair one last time before turning off the light with his other hand and lying down behind you, holding you tightly.

"I love you so much..." he said softly, kissing the crown of your head gently.

"Goodnight..." you breathed out before finally closing your eyes and falling asleep, enjoying the soothing warmth of his embrace.

#carlos oliveria smut #carlos oliveria x reader #carlos oliveira #carlos oliveira resident evil #resident evil carlos #resident evil smut #resident evil #resident evil x reader #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil 3 #resident evil re3 #resident evil 3 remake #resident evil x reader smut #resident evil x you #resident evil x fem! reader #carlos oliveira x fem! reader #carlos oliveira x reader #carlos oliveira x you #resident evil 🚔

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astralis-ortus · 8 days

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ways to say 'i love you'

✱ a bang chan headcanon

— an awkward phrase for him, so he resorts to showing his affection instead.

w.count → 0.6k genre → fluff. pure fluff because i miss him :( warnings → very minor cussing (is saying ass includes as cussing?), just very domestic chan thingy a.n → again, i'm in my 'missing chan' hours and writing this at 2 in the morning was hopefully enough to lessen some of that feeling (it was not)(also this is absolutely not proofread)(who has the right mind to proofread at 2am AND after a crying sesh?)

chan’s a busy man—but it was never a problem for him to make time for you.

be it on the days where his schedules were dictated down to the second, or even worse—when he’s constantly away, for weeks on end, performing in cities where your days were the exact opposites of his nights, he would always make it a point that you know the thought of you never once leaves his mind.

captioned ‘was going on a stroll and came across this park, heh’ as he sent you a picture of him going on a swing, or ‘look at this giant ass churro!! hahah you’d definitely love it here’ when he went to an amusent park with his members on his day off, thousands of miles away from you. your gallery easily surpasses the tens of thousands count, and it’s all from the way chan remembers you in his mundane, everyday life.

chan would also make a connection between you and the small things around him.

his chunky chrome hearts beanie? yeah, it’s the one you said turned him into the wolfchan plushy he gifted you. his earbuds? oh, you stuck a glittery star shaped sticker on the case so you wouldn’t take the wrong one. his laptop? it still made him giggle when he remembered how panicked you were when he told you the thing wouldn’t turn on, only for him to then realize he just forgot to charge it (and he had to appease you from leaving him on read by promising to call as soon as his rehearsal ends).

even when everything is technically his, chan couldn’t help but leave traces of you in his memories of those things—because for him, everything is better with a touch of you in it.

chan loves taking care of you, but he can’t decide if he loves it more when you’re the one taking care of him.

don’t get him wrong—he’d still try very hard to be the dependable one in your relationship. it’s in his blood, he can’t help it... but what power does he have when you adorably said that you’ve been learning on how to take care of his curls, and how you wanted to try the products that just came in the mail earlier in the day. he’d have no choice but to obediently sit between your legs, taking glances of your furrowed brows through the mirror across while your fingers were busy making sure his hair finally turned into the glorious curls you’ve always longed it to be.

if by letting you take care of him made your eyes turn into the brightest constellation of stars he’s ever seen in his life, then he will forever allow you to take care of him.

also, let’s not forget how chan loves his dose of physical touch.

constantly being away never made the trips any easier for him. if any, the periods of actually being with you made it harder for him to ever leave. imagine going from constantly having your gentle body heat around him, to not having them for an extended period of time? lord, chan would give anything just to be able to feel the way your fingers absentmindedly trace figures on his palm while you were reading your books away, like that one night when you stubbornly decided to accompany his all-nighter attempt at his studio.

chan direly needs your touch—he direly needs you.

and after everything you’ve done for him,

after everything you’ve went through,

chan finally realizes that there’s one sure way to let you know that he loves you.

so the next time you sleepily said you think you’re going to bed,

or when you text him a random meme along with an ‘i miss you’ text on a regular thursday evening,

he’d make sure he didn’t forget to tell you the line

“i love you.”

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

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depravitycentral · 5 months

Text

Yandere! Shouta Aizawa NSFW Profile

Yandere! Shouta Aizawa x fem! reader

Tw: mentions of dub-con, masturbation, stalking, kidnapping, voyeurism, toys, clothed sex, hair-pulling, this one is actually kind of soft and feels less yandere-y to me so sorry that this one is a little less creepy than normal, Shouta is a pleaser and lives for your praise, he gets off with a blanket you gifted him, very mild somnophilia, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

WC: 12K

HABITS

In general, Shouta isn’t that perpetually horny. He’s a busy man with constant stress weighing on his shoulders; working as a pro while being a full-time teacher leaves him drained during the few times he gets to relax, and it’s a lot of work to get himself hard, to get off, and to clean up afterwards.

It’s just not worth it to him – especially because it’s a bit sad to be left with just his fist and some low-grade, unrealistic porn as a man in his thirties, isn’t it?

He doesn’t have a partner, and hasn’t had one for quite some time – there was a girl a decade or so ago, but she didn’t last long, and the sex was subpar at best. And so, Shouta finds himself neglecting any sort of sexual activity most nights that he’s off work, not bothering to get himself all worked up and fuck away some of that pent up stress.

Except, then you show up.

His feelings for you form, and although it takes a long time for them to solidify, it takes an even longer time for them to turn lewd, any sort of sexual thought involving you not really taking root into he’s much further into his obsession.

This is for a few reasons – firstly, he just doesn’t have that high of a libido, and while seeing you naked when he’s watching from outside your window certainly gets him hot and bothered, he isn’t constantly fantasizing about bending you over and fucking you until you’re screaming his name.

(Not never, just not constantly – and at inopportune moments, sometimes. Moments where he really should be focused on the mountains of paperwork on his desk, not focused on how the desk is the perfect height for you to be standing on your tiptoes, ass poised out and your chest pressed against the hard wooden lacquer, your soft skin glistening in the dim light and your pretty thighs twitching and quivering as his fingers press deeper and deeper and deeper -)

Secondly, Shouta’s already feeling such crippling guilt regarding his infatuation with you that adding on overt sexual fantasies for you would push him too far. He already hates that he thinks of you constantly, that he’s always idly worrying about your safety, wanting to know your location and who you’re with and what you’re doing.

He already dislikes that he can’t stop himself from swinging by your apartment at the end of his patrols, making sure that you’re in your bed asleep, safe and sound and looking so fucking pretty in the moonlight. He doesn’t like how wrapped around your finger you have him, so how could he justify wringing himself dry to you, depraved fantasies running through his mind as he imagines the way you’d cream on his fingers, how you’d clench down on him so, so tightly when he fucks you just right?

Shouta can’t – it would breach too many protocols of trust, the friendship formed between the two of you precarious enough as it is with Shouta’s obsessive, disturbing feelings. He doesn’t think of you sexually, banishing every thought from his mind the moment it appears.

Or, at least, that’s what he wishes could be true – unfortunately, his hormones get the better of him sometimes, leaving him rolling around in his bed, cock painfully hard and his mind insistently flashing images of you changing behind his eyelids.

He’s embarrassed, more than anything, that he doesn’t have enough self control to successfully halt any lewd thoughts of you – it’s pathetic, really, because is he so desperate to touch you that he literally can’t stop himself?

Is he really so painfully, pitifully aroused by you that just the mere idea of you licking your lips or smiling at him can get him breathing hard, thankful for the bagginess of his pants?

He hates that the answer is yes, that his body is really that pent up and eager to get you under him, naked and soft and pretty, all for him and only him. It’s demoralizing, but Shouta only has so much restraint – he tries to hold out for as long as he can, really. He swears.

It’s torture at first, popping melatonin and chugging Nyquil, hoping he’ll be able to pass out and sleep off the horniness, but it never quite works. Instead, his dreams are full of you – on your knees, sucking him off so well that your cheeks are literally hollowing, drool spilling down your chin, a string of saliva and precum connecting your puffy lips to his swollen tip when you pull off for air.

He’ll dream of you on your hands and knees, peeking back at him with glassy eyes and biting your lip, clearly embarrassed as you ask him to touch me, please Shouta, I need you…

He always wakes up with soiled sheets, his entire pelvis sticky with now cold cum, and it becomes very, very difficult to look you in the eye that day, only able to conjure up the image of you all tied up in his scarf, your breasts perfectly framed and your thighs spread, slick covering them as you whine his name, desperate for him.

And though he tries to stave off, not letting himself actively fantasize about you sexually while he’s conscious, a particularly rough day of teaching and patrol have him giving up, throwing caution to the wind as he decides that he needs this, that a release is the only way he’ll be able to stay sane.

In the past, the few times he’s masturbated he’s always just fucked his fist, not needing anything too fancy. But for you, something about that feels disrespectful – it’s stupid and he knows it, but the idea of just thrusting into his hand over and over until he eventually spills all over his knuckles seems tacky, low-class, almost offensive to your image, like he’s tarnishing you and the way he idolizes you.

So, he relies on the next best thing he can scrounge up – you’d given him a blanket a few months ago, a birthday present that he’d tried desperately to cover his blush at receiving.

(Hizashi had pitched in, helping you decide which color and texture, having an expert’s opinion so that it would be perfect for the dark-haired man – a level of detail and attention to his desires that still, to this day, makes his heart flutter to think about. You cared, wanting him to be happy, and just that thought leaves his chest swelling with pride, his palms getting a bit clammy and his cheeks feeling too hot.)

He’s kept the blanket on his bed, using it every single night for the limited sleep he manages to get, making sure the material is always, always touching his body. It’s the only way he really feels close to you – the blanket was for him, sure, but you’d touched it, picked it out, held it in your arms while Shouta was dumbly gaping at you and struggling to utter out a strained thank you.

(If he tries hard enough, he thinks he can even smell you on the fabric – it’s not as good as if you were actually here with him, laying in his arms, touching him, but if he strains enough and pretends hard enough, there’s the faintest whiff of you.)

He’s gulping, throwing his uniform off and leaving it crumped up in the corner, before gently, daintily grabbing the edges of the neatly folded blanket (a stark contrast to the harsh pulling and tugging at his costume he’d thrown off moments earlier) and laying it out on the bed.

He lets out a shaky breath, gulping, before tying his hair back into a messy, low ponytail, excitement flitting through him because he’s really about to do it. He’s really about to touch himself to the thought of you, allowing himself to fully indulge in the fantasy that is you, the fantasy that is imagining the way you’d feel against his body, your lips against his own, your hands in his hair and your thighs around his waist.

He’s moving slow as he settles onto his knees on the bed, staring down at the blanket with furrowed brows. This isn’t quite right – the image of you laying before him, body nude and your legs clenched together in anticipation feels very, very right, but there’s something missing.

A thumb comes down to idly rub at the blanket, tracing small circles against the material as he wracks his brain. What’s missing? How can he make this feel like you, like it’s your body he’s touching, like it’s your perfect little cunt he’s fucking?

He’s not sure, but suddenly it hits him – your body, just as he’d been dreaming about.

The blanket doesn’t look enough like you – it’s two dimensional, flat and having no surface area to grip onto, nothing for him to fondle and touch and squeeze.

It needs to have more of your shape – quickly, methodically, he’s reaching down, grabbing handfuls of the blanket and bunching it up, forming a shape that vaguely resembles your torso. He’s careful to get the exact shape of your waist and hips, making sure to leave mounds of crumpled blanket to represent your breasts, even creating a little space between your thighs that represents something soft, something warm and wet and tight – your precious little pussy, something Shouta would literally kill to feel.

He gulps as he looks down at his work, the atmosphere suddenly seeming much thicker, heavier, hotter, because now, the solid colored blanket seems like you, at least having your body shape and your vague proportions. Aizawa lets his hand run down what would be your side, pausing right over your pretend hip.

Fuck, he mutters under his breath, before shifting forward slightly, letting his weight rest on his knees and one hand as he carefully guides his cock to the space between your crafted thighs.

He’d been careful to leave a fold in the fabric, a pouch of sorts – a place for him to push into, slowly spreading the two layers, trying to mimic the way your pretty lips would part for him, your walls sucking him and clenching him nice and tight, wanting to keep him inside and never let him pull out.

Shouta curses as he rubs his tip against the fabric, noting with a small, far-away sense of disdain that there’s precum smearing all along the fabric, certainly leaving a stain that he’ll have to scrub out later. His thumb comes up to gently swipe along where he imagines your cheek to be, even feeling phantom sensations of warmth, of softness, just as you’d be.

He leans down slowly, throat bobbing, before letting his eyes flutter closed, his lips pressing against the blanket – right where he imagines your own to be. The kiss is soft, gentle, heartfelt, his tongue flicking out to lick against the blanket material, groaning and wishing it was your own tongue meeting his, your own spit coating his lips.

As he gets closer, body inching further down until his chest pressed up against what’s supposed to be your breasts, he shuffles his hips forward, pushing past the fabric fold and into you. He groans, pulling back from the kiss to rest his forehead against where he imagines yours to be, letting his eyes shut tight, nearly squeezing them closed as he slowly rocks his hips.

The friction of the blanket feels a bit strange, not how you’d feel, but it’s better than nothing – and it’s so, so very easy to imagine you instead; your warm, slick walls, the way you’d squeeze at him when he brushes up against your spot, the way your legs would wrap around his hips, hooking your ankles and pulling him in closer, begging him to go deeper. He sighs out, biting his lip and furrowing his brow, the pleasure slowly beginning to mount.

He imagines the way you’d moan his name – he bets you’d be airy, a soft sound that gets his hips stuttering ever so slightly because he knows the way his name would sound spilling from your lips would be heaven, the sultry Shouta upturned at the end as he fucks into you just the slightest bit faster.

His hips pick up their pace at the thought of you crying his name, back muscles flexing as he slowly gets faster and faster, the slow, sweet, intimate pace he’d set blown to dust in the wake of his thighs propelling him forward, hips flying and smacking into the blanket so quickly and harshly that the mattress is shaking, bedframe slightly pounding against the wall.

Shouta groans, low and deep, imagining the way you’d beg him to go faster Shouta please, please please please you feel s’good, wanna come for you! Memories of seeing you touch yourself flash behind his closed eyes, seeing the way your face screwed up in pleasure, how you gripped at your pillows and bucked your hips and trembled and arched your back and gasped and came –

Shouta’s chanting your name, his hips sinking into the fold of the blanket over and over, and quickly he’s bringing a thumb down to rub frantic, uneven circles where he imagines your clit to be, desperate to get you coming, wanting to time your orgasm with his.

Fuck, come for me baby, give it to me, god you’re s’damn tight fuuuck - !

His eyes fly open as spurts of warm, milky cum spray from his tip, getting all over the blanket and making his hips stutter and jerk, the sensation of coming in something leaving his arms feeling weak.

He’s panting, still saying your name under his breath, dark hair falling around his face as his thighs flex and clench, the last bits of cum dribbling from his tip and leaving him feeling spent. He can’t help but imagine the way you’d take him, if you’d thank him for giving him everything he has to offer, if you’d hold onto him until you both caught your breath, if your walls would still flutter and clench sporadically even after you’d come down from your high.

He closes his eyes again, heart practically in his throat as he leans down once more to kiss the blanket, tongue sneaking out and wet noises filling the room as spit and drool get slobbered all over the fabric.

He’s still out of breath, panting when he pulls back, but it’s not until he leans back onto his knees and takes a good look at the blanket that his high begins to fade, the reminder that you’re not really there making a sharp feeling dig into his gut.

He stares for a moment, before sighing, slowly pulling out of the blanket and grimacing when he feels cooling cum sliding across his cock, the white mess all over the material and smeared across his skin.

He brings a hand to his forehead, covering his eyes and sighing. What was he doing?

He’d just fucked a blanket – a gift, from you no less – while pretending it was you, his desperation to get you naked and in his grasp strong enough to make him lose him mind.

Pathetic, he was truly pathetic.

He’s ashamed as he throws the blanket into the laundry, hoping the cum stains will come out with all the bleach he’d thrown in alongside it, and as he chugs his coffee, deciding to get to school early and try to collect himself, Shouta can only sigh.

You make him such a fucking fool – a freak, perverted and creepy and gross, and as soon as he catches sight of you in the staff loungeroom, looking all pretty in your simple blouse and slacks, he knows he’s a lost cause, every bit of self-respect falling by the wayside.

Because as soon as he looks at you, all he can think of is how you’d look underneath him, stuffed full of his cum and a dazed, fucked-out expression scrawled across your face. All he can think of is how you’d be absolutely perfect to sink his cock into – and as he darts off to the nearest restroom, desperately trying to get rid of the insistent, raging erection in his pants, he can only sigh, letting his head hang.

He really is a fucking creep.

FAVORITE BODY PARTS

Your thighs

Shouta isn’t one to sexualize women’s bodies. He’s a man with urges, sure, but he’s never had trouble separating sexual attraction from respect for his female friends, even for strangers in the streets. A body is a body, and they aren’t made to be stared at and ogled.

Except where you’re concerned, of course, because while Shouta tries his hardest to not sexualize every thought of you, it’s difficult to hold himself back when he’s so utterly attracted to every single part of you.

It’s hard to not fixate and stare and want when he looks at you, and so while he gives a valiant effort to not obsess over your figure in a less than innocent way, eventually he can’t help himself.

And Shouta discovers that while he loves every inch of you, there’s something about your thighs that drive him absolutely fucking crazy.

Maybe it’s their shape – pretty expanses of your skin that look perfect to grope and squeeze, the soft curves making him salivate in a way that feels almost predatory.

Maybe it’s the way they feel – your skin is so soft, especially if he moves his hands further up, between them, nearing somewhere warm and wet and throbbing.

Maybe it’s the way they feel when they’re around his waist, caging him in and keeping him right where he wants to be, and when they’re around his head?

(Don’t mention the instances where he’s orgasmed just from simply eating you out – it’s embarrassing, and while he won’t deny it, he will change the conversation and pray you don’t see the soft, barely-there pink blooming on his cheeks.)

Maybe it’s even the way you respond when he touches them – how you jump a little bit, his calloused hands feeling a bit cold as they skim along the sides, thumbs pressing into your inner thighs, a comforting finger brushing along the juncture of your legs and pelvic bone.

He’s not entirely sure, but one thing he does know is that just seeing your bare thighs is enough to get him gulping, his dark gaze struggling to move away as he watches the area jiggle and flex while you walk, every step you take only making him want you more and more.

Even before he’s stolen you away, he’s fantasizing about your thighs – he’s bought more pairs of stockings and thigh-highs than he’d care to admit, keeping them neatly organized in a specific drawer in his closet, often fingering the material and biting his lip.

(The image of you wearing them makes him drool, the idea of the top hem squeezing your thigh and making a little bulge appear right above the socks getting his hand wandering down his torso, his fingers making quick word of his belt buckle because fuuuck, would you keep them on while he throws your legs over his shoulders and absolutely destroys you?)

He’s always taking extra time and care to properly worship them when he’s got his head between your legs, letting his lips and tongue trail all along the soft skin, leaving teasing bite marks and hickeys and feeling the way you tremble under his touch because he’s so close yet so far from where you need him.

He’s always got a hand on your thighs when he’s fucking you, his fingers clutching and digging into the skin while he shuts his eyes tight and wills himself to last longer, to prolong the moment, to give you more more more, just like you deserve.

He just really, really likes your thighs, so don’t be surprised when he’s got his hand casually placed on one when you’re watching a movie together, his gaze purposefully not looking at you because you can’t see how flustered he is from touching your clothed thigh in a non-sexual context.

You can’t.

His hands

In general, Shouta lives to please you in bed. He’s by no means submissive (though he could be persuaded if you really, really wanted to be in charge for a night), but he’s a caring partner in every possible sense of the word – sex is about you, and any pleasure he gets from it is just a fun bonus.

And because of this, he takes every opportunity to learn new ways to please you, trying everything from teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue, buying a collection of vibrators, even letting you grind against the expanse of his thigh.

But his favorite method by far is using his fingers on you. They’re thick, with scars and callouses dotting the rough skin, but they’re so gentle with you, always touching you like you’re something fragile and delicate and breakable. He's careful with you when he’s rubbing circles over your clit, the pressure consistent enough to feel good but not too hard, sometimes even teasing you. He’s gentle when he’s running his fingertips over your folds, occasionally dipping in just a hair to feel the warm wetness he wants so very badly to sink into.

(He often sucks in a short, nearly inaudible gasp when he does this, his Adam’s apple bobbing because god you’re wet, and he’ll pull back to lick off his fingers, letting his eyes flutter closed as he tastes you.)

He particularly enjoys fingering you – he’s dexterous, and he always goes slow and purposefully, learning quickly exactly where you like to be touched. He’ll angle the pads of his fingers against that spot inside of you that makes your toes curl, his lip caught between his teeth as he watches your face twist up, hearing your pretty sighs and moans, feeling the way you clench around him, your hips twitching a bit as if to get him deeper, to get more of him. He keeps his pace sensual, the come-hither motion slow and controlled, all the while keeping his thumb pressed firmly against your clit, drawing shapes that stay just consistent enough to get you closer and closer.

All the while, the other hand is gently working at your clit, his fingers expertly getting the exact pressure and pattern you like, making your thighs twitch and your little gasps and mewls louder and more insistent.

And when he’s not actively working between your legs, Shouta’s always got his fingers pleasuring you in other ways – gently kneading at your breasts, pinching and rolling your nipples between a thumb and index finger, groping and squeezing at you like a man starved as his tongue flicks and sucks at your clit.

They’re grasping a handful of your thigh and squeezing reassuringly as he’s fucking you, his pace slow and deep, making sure you feel every possible inch of him as he folds you in half.

He’s even slipping a thumb against your tongue when you take a break to breath, your chest heaving and your fingers wrapped around his girth, a groan slipping from his lips because god, the sight of his precum dribbling down your chin is enough to get his cock twitching on its own. He’ll press down on your tongue, his lip caught between his teeth as you stare up at him, the sight indescribably erotic, a few praises falling from his mouth about how good you look, how pretty you are, how well you take care of him.

(All the while, he’s feeling you suck on his thumb, eagerly running your tongue along the skin and even swallowing around it to give the extra suction. Shouta curses under his breath, and suddenly stands, grabbing you by the hips and forcing you to bend over the chair he’d previously been sitting on, roughly spreading your legs and immediately diving in to lick and suck against your clit, a finger slipping inside of you because he just can’t not touch you after watching you drool all over him.)

He just likes to make you feel good, and while he enjoys pleasuring you with his mouth, nothing can beat the way you moan and shake when he’s working his fingers on you, pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you until you’re incoherent, your poor body trembling, the only thing you can think of him him him.

DRIVE

Though you inspire more sexual desire and drive within him than he’s experienced for the last twenty years, Shouta is still not absolutely desperate to fuck you at all times.

Sure, the idea is nice – being intimate with you is something he craves, but nine times out of ten this intimacy takes the form of simply holding you. Sitting beside you with your head resting on his shoulder, a blanket covering the both of your bodies as you snore softly and cling to him in your sleep, showing that you feel safe with him, that you trust him to protect you.

(Shouta is normally able to keep his staring in check and not be too terribly overt with it, but in times like these he allows himself to openly gape at you, those dark eyes of his examining every detail of your face. Every small wrinkle, every hair and mole, even every lash and baby hair that frames your cheeks. You’re just too damn pretty, and like this he can commit every last detail to memory – as if he hadn’t already, as if he doesn’t sleep at night with your face dancing through his dreams, as if he sees flashes of you in everything he does. As if he isn’t thinking of you as unconsciously as he breaths.)

He generally imagines sleeping with you (and genuinely just sleeping – curling up with you in his arms and his face buried next to your neck, the scent of your body and shampoo filling his senses and making him breathe out something that walks the fine line between a sigh and a moan), the peacefulness and tranquility of just having you close to him in the safety of his protection and home.

It’s a type of intimacy that gets Shouta red in the face, the idea so domestic and taboo and foreign that he comes to crave this on a near constant basis, serving as motivation and a way to calm himself when his students are out of control or a villain is being particularly difficult.

But of course, Shouta is only a man, and men have needs – no matter how he tries to keep his obsession with you as innocent as it possibly can be, sexual thoughts trickle in through the cracks of his mental fortitude and leave him with a phantom wonder of how you’d taste – would you be sweet, like the jellies Hizashi had gotten him? Would you be rich and savory? He hopes you’d have a strong musk to you, a smell that he can breathe in and think of you, something that gets his salivating and his body growing hot and his fingers restless and his breath heavy and labored and god –

He’s hard before he knows it, immediately covering his face with his hands because it’s equal parts embarrassing and terrifying how easily you manage to affect him, just the simple thought of you getting his entire body on edge.

And so he eventually takes up masturbation with you in mind, feeling dirty and disgusting each time he recovers from his orgasmic high, making it more and more difficult to look you in the eye without thinking of all the depraved things he’d imagined doing with you mere hours before.

But Shouta thinks he can survive – sure, he wants to fuck you, needs to kiss you, has to see the face you make when you’re coming, but he can control himself. He won’t succumb to the urge to break into your (frustratingly poorly protected) apartment to run his fingers along your pretty skin and fuck his fist mere inches from your face, no matter how badly his body yells and begs him to. He won’t cross this boundary – it’s hypocritical to think of himself not as a pervert at this point, but it’s the only way he confidently resists you.

Except, then you go and force him into kidnapping you – and now you’re with him nearly all moments of the day, your scent in his bedroom (though he knows you never willingly enter there, and he doesn’t force you to), your body always just a heartbeat away, the idea of holding you and kissing much, much closer now.

And even with the constant temptation, Shouta manages to hold out – it’s torture, really, forcing himself to be a good man and giving you privacy, to not touch you, to not press himself against you and feel the contours of your body against his own, but it’s worth it to him. He can’t force anything – he doesn’t want to scare you, and he has this horrible, sneaking suspicion that if he propositioned you, you’d feel too afraid to say no.

And just the thought is enough motivation to keep him from touching you, to keep him celibate from you purely by his choice – even if it starts affecting him physically.

(He’d never, ever admit it to you, but his lust for you becomes so extreme that if he’s gone more than a week or so without having touched himself to the thought of you while you’re under his care, his cock starts physically hurting when he sees you, his hips involuntarily twitching when he hears your voice, his throat feeling dry and his cheeks blooming bright red because god, he’s never wanted to fuck something so bad.)

And so, Shouta forces himself to be an outstanding man – but no one can be alert every moment of every day, and it’s only a matter of time before you catch him in a moment of weakness. Because really, while Shouta was suffering, you were certainly undergoing a struggle of your own – you’ve been stuck with him for a few months at this point, trapped in his modest apartment with everything you could ever need with one glaring, important exception: human touch.

You don’t necessarily want to be physical with your kidnapper, but as the days pass and you slowly come to accept the fact that you won’t be escaping Eraserhead, things start changing. You’re still understandably frightened of him, worried that although he’s not harmed you in any way and hasn’t forced you into much aside from your captivity, he’ll show his true colors and make your life even more of a living hell.

But that doesn’t happen, Shouta staying that familiar presence you’ve become accustomed to; steady, quiet, consistent. Except the more days that pass, the more you start noticing other things about him – he’s strong, isn’t he? You see it when he walks from the bathroom to his bedroom with the towel tightly fastened at his waist, showing off the lean muscle of his arms and torso.

(He can feel your eyes sometimes, but tries not to dwell on what your staring at his naked chest could mean because getting his hopes up means getting them inevitably crushed.)

He’s awfully attentive, isn’t he? He listens when you speak, those dark eyes boring into you and your every wish – aside from escape – granted without so much as a complaint.

And sometimes, he’s a little attractive, isn’t he? In a rugged, man-ish way – a way that makes you gulp and press your thighs together a bit, because something about the stubble that coats his chin and the veins that litter his hands and forearms makes it difficult to breath correctly.

And then the daydreams start – little thoughts about how it would feel for those hands to touch you, for those lips to brush against your own, for his hair to tickle your neck as he hovers over you, his hips moving slowly and rhythmically against you, gruff grunts of your name filling the air between you.

They scare you at first, really, but soon you can’t stop yourself – you know it’s the lack of human contact that’s influencing you, but as time passes and you grow more desperate to know if he’s as attentive in bed as he is everywhere else, you’ll stop caring.

And Shouta can sense that something’s changing – he feels you watching him, notices the way your eyes follow him through a room, how you suck in the sharpest, smallest breath when he nears you, how you grow stiff when he has to flex a muscle in front of you to lift something heavy. Shouta knows that something is different – but it’s not until you grow brave one day that everything is confirmed.

It’d been a long, tiresome day for Shouta – his class had been especially rowdy today, with a simulation villain attack that the teachers participated in, and of course he’d ended up assigned to spar with Todoroki – meaning he’d been moving about, his muscles tired and sore from multiple hours of repetitive fighting. Then he’d had an extra patrol directly after, the villains particularly restless and causing more trouble than normal. Coupled with a nasty rainstorm that had him half freezing to death, Shouta wanted nothing more than to melt into bed, ideally with you beside him but knowing better than to wish for foolish things.

And when he’d stepped in the front door, you’d been waiting for him, sitting nervously on the couch. You’d stood up, but Shouta – despite feeling slightly more awake and alive at the sight of you, like normal – was still exhausted, already on the brink of unconsciousness as he gruffly greeted you. You looked nervous, twiddling your thumbs and biting your lip, but Shouta was too tired to properly ask about it, only mentally noting to check on you tomorrow.

Slumping towards his bedroom, he was abruptly stopped with you grabbed his hand, his entire body going rigid. Your voice was quiet when you asked him why he always seems to avoid touching you, asking if he didn’t want to, if he was repulsed by the idea of touching, if he was repulsed by you.

And Shouta, still half delirious with exhaustion, let the truth slip from his lips before he could help himself – explaining just how badly he craves to feel you, imagining you in every lewd position he can think of, noticing the way your pajama shirts sometimes grow tight when you sleep and roll over, exposing the outline of your breast and nipple and making him physically stop in his tracks and nearly drool like some horny teenager.

Every secret was spilling out of him, his voice still tired and coarse but making your jaw drop, the admission that he’s been fantasizing about making you a mess on his fingers and tongue and cock stunning you. You’d known Shouta harbored some sort of feelings for you, but this?

When he finishes detailing the fact that he regularly fucks his fist to the thought of you at least twice a week after you’ve fallen asleep, you release his hand, immediately missing the warmth of his skin.

Shouta rubs at his eyes, still not facing you, but muttering a small goodnight and retreating to his room, only realizing what’s happened the next morning. His hands shake and he bolts from his bed, his eyes wide and his heart racing, something horrible and feeling like shame and dread sitting in his chest because why the fuck had he told you that?

Facing you the next day has anxiety sitting in his every nerve, his actions jerky and on-edge, an he’d nearly bolted back to the safety of his room when he sawy you sitting at the kitchen table, but then you’d done something unexpected – you’d walked up to him, stood in silence for a moment, then grabbed his hand. Shouta had been confused, unable to ignore the way your hand fit into his own and the softness of your skin against his, but you’d not given him a chance to even ask questions – soon your lips were on his, and your hand had placed his on something warm and soft and squishy –

Shouta gasped against your lips, the feeling of your breast in his hand and your tongue swiping at his lips nearly making his knees buckle. He didn’t respond to your kiss for a few moments, forcing you to pull back and stare at him, something like worry and rejection reflected in your eyes, but it’s not until you whisper in a very small voice that he snaps out of his stupor.

I want you Shouta, and I know you want me.

You were in his bed moments later, his hands frantic and eager and shaking as he practically ripped off your borrowed pajamas, fingers moving fast and settling over every part of your body, seemingly unable to decide on where to stay.

It was rushed, desperation clouding both of your senses, but as Shouta threw your leg over his shoulder and pressed wet kisses against the juncture of your shoulder and neck, his whispered affirmations of his love for you only had you pulling him closer, adoration and shock and something so happy it nearly hurt filling his chest.

Perhaps, just perhaps, something in you loved him as he loved you.

MAIN THREE KINKS

Clothed Sex

It’s about convenience for Shouta – he’s not lazy in the bedroom, but although he finds you irresistible and is normally willing to expend what very little energy he has on sex with you, he’s willing to take any shortcut he can.

Of course, sex with you in an ideal world sees the both of you completely nude, your bodies pressed as close together as physically possible so that not a breath of space lays between them. He likes being close to you, feeling every inch of you, the intimacy of it unmatched and making Shouta revel in the fact that you’re really there with him, that he’s really getting to touch you, that he’s really getting to kiss you and touch you and fuck you, just as he’s been fantasizing of for months.

But that said, there’s a strange allure to clothed sex – it’s taboo and a little dirty, something that makes him feel a little warm, his palms growing a bit sweaty because it could happen at any time. Whenever the mood strikes him or strikes you, he could simply unzip his pants, shuffle them down a bit and fish out his cock, and he'd be ready to go – already half-hard, the eager anticipation of your touch exciting him from nearly the moment you entered the room.

And it’s easy access to you, too – not that he’d ever take advantage of that fact, your consent still something he asks for every time he touches you. It’s easy to slip your panties to the side, sinking you down onto his lap as he groans and his head lolls back, the feeling of your warmth making his toes curl. He just likes how easy it all is – no time is wasted with struggling to get off your shirt or his pants, and the desperation to be inside you that always seems to overwhelm him at the most inconvenient of times can be attended to that much faster.

He just thinks there’s something so hot about it – he’ll specifically stock you with clothing to wear that makes this easy – flouncy skirts and shorts that make shoving everything to the side and bunching his fist into the cloth to get better leverage while he pounds into you.

He’ll get you tank tops and things that make fishing your breasts out of your top easy, so that they can freely hang and jiggle as he bounces you up and down on his lap, your nipples hardening and shivers racing down your spine as he flicks his tongue at one.

He’ll buy underwear that doesn’t chafe when he shoves it to the side, the pretty sight of lace against your skin making him feral, making him fuck into you harder and more frantically because you almost look like some sort of lewd present when you’re wearing that lingerie – like his very own present, the one thing in the world he wants more than anything else.

And he’ll wear clothing that makes this easy, too – pants that can be unzipped and boxers he can tuck underneath his balls, making sure that nothing gets in the way. And although having sex without clothes is much more common than with clothes, Shouta will surprise you and suddenly press up behind you in the kitchen, telling you that you look too good, that he can’t help himself, that he needs you, and has to fuck you right here, right now, I can’t wait.

And so when you nod, he’ll flip up that skirt of yours – the main culprit for the throbbing between his legs, of course, because the clear view of your legs and thighs makes his mouth water – and slip aside those panties, his cock already out and hard and dripping for you.

It’s spontaneous, more than anything, and it’s one of the only ways in which Shouta is a little carefree with sex – one of the only times that he isn’t serious, or at least as serious.

The main way Shouta likes to engage in clothed sex, though, is through cockwarming. He just likes being close to you – he’s touch-starved, and although he doesn’t have the energy to actually fuck you, he still wants to be inside you, to have your body against his, to have you near and be smelling your scent and hearing your voice.

And so, it’s not a rare occurrence to have him pull you into his arms on his modest leather couch, your frumpy sweatpants and t-shirt (both his, of course, a fact that isn’t lost on him – he will not be washing either of those items when they eventually are off your body) covering your form and his own loungewear covering his.

He’ll shuffle up behind you, pulling you against him so that he’s spooning you, and before long you’ll feel something poking at your ass – something hard and insistent, something that seems to be bobbing and moving every few moments.

Truthfully, Shouta couldn’t say what got him hard – perhaps it was just being with you, or maybe smelling you, or the sight of you in his clothes. It could be any number of things – but his breath hitches as you swallow and carefully tug down the hem of your sweatpants, pressing your exposed ass back against him.

He makes a sound like a low whistle, and then he’s fishing his cock out of his own pants, the tip already wet with precum as he shifts his hips to slip between your legs, propping your leg up over his so that he can push inside. He does so with a small groan, resting his forehead against your back, and he feels you clench down on him.

He’s content to lay there – the warmth of his clothing and from you almost too much, but seeing the way you snuggle deeper into the shirt sending something warm and hot and possessive through his chest. He’ll just pull you against him tighter, the slight shift making the both of you hiss at the small burst of pleasure. He’s content to fall asleep that way – relaxed, his cock still nestled inside of you and hard as a rock, the feeling of your cunt lulling him into dreams filled with you naked and moaning his name, all bouncing breasts and desperate hands and begs for more.

(Don’t be surprised, when this happens, to wake up feeling something dripping out of you – yes, it’s cum and yes, that wet dream was enough to get him there. Don’t mention it, either, because Shouta’s always disappointed that he wasn’t awake for it - after all, call him old-fashioned but finishing inside of you is arguably his favorite selfish part of sex.)

Overstimulation

Shouta is not a stingy lover. In the bedroom, he lives to see you enjoying yourself – it soothes this primal, horrible ache in his chest that yearns or your approval and happiness. A lot of his obsession is born out of a desire to please you and keep you happy and safe, and this translates into making absolutely sure you’re satisfied in every possible way between the sheets.

Sex isn’t really sex until you’ve had at least two orgasms, whether that be because of his fingers or tongue, and only then will he throw your pretty legs up over his shoulders, sinking into you with a sharp exhale and letting his face rest against your sternum as he wills himself to not get too excited, to keep his cool and not rut into you like wild animal. He wants you to enjoy sex with him – he craves intimacy with you and he needs you to crave it too, and he’s hopeful that by giving you the best attention and care in bed, you’ll be more inclined to kiss and hold him, to touch him and whisper those three little words in his ear.

(The three little words that make him gasp and shudder, cum immediately spurting out of his red, swollen tip, his knuckles turning white as he grips onto your thigh and the bedsheets tightly enough to keep himself grounded through the pleasure.)

And so, Shouta finds that there’s something darkly pleasing about being the one to get you orgasming, being the source of your pleasure – seeing your face twist up, your mouth forming that pretty ‘o’ and your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Shouta develops a bit of a sick fascination with seeing just how often he can make you come for him, and from what. It stems from a good place; a genuine desire to make you happy and get you shaking with pleasure and incoherent enough that all you can say is his name.

He likes to choose how you come – will it be his fingers? Will he draw pretty circles on the inside of your thighs, teasing you and feeling the way your breathing picks up a bit, a whine of his name telling him that you’re growing impatient, that you need more, that you need him?

He’ll get closer and closer to your folds, pressing a thumb against them and dipping in ever so slightly, the dull pleasure making you bite your lip, embarrassment eating you alive because it feels so dirty to be teased like this, to keep your legs so wide open for him, to feel the way his eyes are staring at you so fully and intensely, the adoration and lust swimming in those dark depths nearly too much for you handle.

He’ll press two fingers against your clit and get to work, rubbing with light pressure and slowly increasing it, feeling the way the nub gets harder and more swollen, fingers swiping down to collect a bit of your slick to make things easier, the pads of his fingers gliding along your sensitive skin and making your hips jump and twist.

He’ll use his other hand to finger you, rough calloused skin dragging against your walls and pressing right into the spot he knows you love – the one that makes your back arch up, your head pushing back against the pillow, your nails digging into the bedsheets and tangling through his hair. Working you through an orgasm with his fingers is his favorite and what you’ll most likely get – he gets a front row seat, watching with rapt attention as you fall apart for him, feeling the way your thighs tremble and close in around him when you’re right on the edge.

There’s this feeling of power, pride and desire making him light headed and only work harder at his ministrations, ignoring your yelps and gasps of overstimulation because he needs to see that again, to feel the way you clench down onto his fingers so tightly that he has to work to pull them out to thrust back in. You’re just so damn sexy, the sight of you laying before him with your pretty legs spread wide open making him swallow so hard you can hear it.

But of course, Shouta also loves using his mouth to get you off – pink lips attaching to your nipple, sucking and running his tongue over your areola to make you squirm, your little keens making his cock twitch against your thigh.

He’ll kiss at your hips, making a trail down to your clit, giving you little kitten licks while his eyes flick up to look at you, seeing the way you sigh and bite your lip, the rising and falling of your chest making him near feral.

He wants to see you moan and writhe, to feel you grasping at him and needing him, and so his patience wears out and he dives between your legs, slick coating his nose and chin as he licks and sucks and thrusts his tongue against you, eyes closed in concentration and hair getting in his face but he doesn’t care – how can he, when you sound so pretty moaning his name like that?

How can he, when your thighs are clenching around his head and you’re just so fucking wet for him, showing him exactly how much he’s affecting you?

It's euphoric, and soon you’ll be crying out his name and creaming all over his lips, shaking in his grasp so hard that he has to hold you down by the hips to help you ride out the pleasure, the taste of you making him so hard that it hurts.

And god, there’s something about the way you respond to voice and his commands in bed that makes Shouta curse under his breath. You look up at him all wide-eyed, pleasure written across your face as you look to him for guidance, his voice gruff and thick with lust as he tells you to let go, come for me, want to see you come for me.

You immediately furrow your brows and bite your lip, grinding yourself harder against his fingers, feeling the pads of them brush against the spot that has you seeing stars, his name a prayer as you chant it over and over, only stopping to moan or gasp.

The sight is intoxicating, leaving Shouta gaping like a fish with parted lips and heavy breaths, staring at you like you’re something heavenly, divine, unable to tear his gaze away because he still can’t quite believe this is happening, that you’re moaning his name, that you’re letting him touch you and oh, he knows what that change in your facial expression means, how you’re blinding grasping at him, how you’re stuttering out a rushed ‘m coming, Shouta ‘m coming fuck-!

Watching you come undone right before his eyes has Shouta’s cock throbbing, his hips subtly moving against your thigh because he needs friction, the sight of you and the knowledge that he made you this way nearly too much for him to bear.

And when you finally calm down, your breathing wild and your eyes a little glazed over, he’ll just swallow and quickly situate him hips between your legs, gripping himself at the base and impatiently prodding at your entrance, his words dark as he tells you that you’ve got another one in you, give it to me.

When he pushes in – slowly, so as not to hurt you – he lets out a groan, only muffled by the way he leans down to kiss you, feeling the way you tense up and eagerly return the gesture, wrapping your ankles around his waist and pulling him deeper, showing him that you need more more more if you’re going to finish like he wants you to.

And Shouta’s happy to oblige – snapping his hips into you until his muscles are sore and screaming, a thumb relentlessly toying with your clit, his lips against your neck and whispering praise tainted with curses.

He’s encouraging you to feel good, telling you to tell me how it – fuck, how it feels, you’re so goddamn tight, tell me how to fuck you – o-oh…

Because really, while he loves to get you coming and falling apart on his terms, Shouta’s pride flies out the window where you’re concerned – he’d do anything to get you clenching down on him and begging him to finish inside you.

Anything.

Voyeurism

Honestly, it’s a byproduct of having stalked you for such an extended period of time. Watching you was the only way to feel close to you – he wasn’t able to hold you and kiss you, to feel you and lay with you and make you whine his name, and becoming your shadow was the only possible substitution.

And even then, it wasn’t enough – all the guilt he harbors from watching you in your more intimate moments never fades, not even after years of having stolen you away, your pretty body and mind fully his to do as he pleases. He’s still ashamed, but some things he just simply can’t unlearn – and so, even once your sexual relationship begins, Shouta finds himself still utterly excited by the prospect of watching you pleasure yourself.

It’s dirty, horrible, something that makes him feel so guilty he can hardly stand it, but he can’t not stop and watch through the crack in your door when he hears what sounds suspiciously close to muffled whimpers.

He can’t not press his ear against the wooden door, closing his eyes and imagining what you’re doing to yourself – maybe you’re playing with that cute little clit, rubbing it in circles and biting your lip because it just feels so damn good, mimicking the way that Shouta works you up slowly and steadily, getting you so sensitive that your hips jump and twitch at just the slightest bit of pressure against your sensitive nerves.

(He’s had dreams about the way you taste – he thinks you’d be musky, something natural and strong and savory, a taste he wants in his mouth at all hours of the day. And the way you’d tremble and gush for him if it was his fingers and mouth toying with the nub, how you’d tangle your fingers in his hair and pull him closer and closer to you, needing as much of him as possible, needing him him him…)

Maybe you’re sinking your fingers inside of you, working up from one to three, stretching yourself out and imagining it’s him instead, that he’s the one filling you up and making your toes curl, that he’s the one causing all those pretty noises to fall from your lips.

(He knows just how much bigger his own fingers are – he’ll imagine the size difference, his eyes shutting tight when he thinks of how much more he can stretch you out, how much better he can make you feel, how the texture of his fingers must send pleasure up your spine in a way that your soft, comparatively dainty fingers can’t.)

Maybe you’re perched up on a pillow, straddling it with your cunt pressed snugly against the fabric, slick smearing across the cotton as you grind your hips back and forth, hunched over so that the angle is just right, imagining it’s him underneath you and it’s his thigh or cock you’re rubbing against.

(He’s had wet dreams about this sight, always hoping and fantasizing that you’re just so desperate for him that you’re imagining it’s his face you’re riding, his mind conjuring up the sound of your voice moaning out his name and telling him yes yes o-oh fuck yes, Shouta ‘s so good, you feel so good! He’d never seen you riding a pillow during all those months of stalking, but the idea’s just too graphic and wanton and lewd for him to not fantasize about, the idea satisfying the part of him that’s embarrassed and ashamed of just how badly he craves you – because surely if you’re humping some piece of cotton and pretending it’s him, then what does he have to be embarrassed about? Lots, really, but it makes him feel slightly better.)

Or maybe you’ve decided that you want something a little more physical, something to really mimic him – he’d seen you using your vibrator many, many times before he stole you away. His face always turned pink at the sight, his throat going dry and his grip on his capture weapon a little loose as he simply stared, the sight of your pretty body contorting and the plastic held against the crest of your pelvic bone making everything else fade away.

You’re so damn pretty – the way you moan and sigh, how your legs twitch, how your breasts sway and jiggle with every motion, making his fingers ache to reach out and squeeze, to knead and touch and grope, like some sort of pervert.

And this fantasy and mental image has stayed with him long after kidnapping you – once your physical relationship begins and Shouta no longer feels it would make you even more uncomfortable and scared of him, he’s buying you a replacement for that trusty vibrator you used to use to death. He’d left it on your nightstand one morning with a hasty note simply saying I’m gone a lot, I don’t want you to get lonely.

Of course, this is only half the truth – he does want you to be happy, and he doesn’t want you to grow resentful of the times when he’s too exhausted to give you proper sex. But of course, the unspoken portion of this gift is that he wants to watch you use said vibrator – and badly.

He wants to sit in a chair at the side of the bed, legs spread wide as he grips the base of his cock, absentmindedly squeezing at his balls while his dark eyes stay trained on your figure. He wants you to be spread out for him, perhaps a skimpy set of lingerie covering your pretty body (or perhaps none at all, if you’re comfortable with it) with your legs spread wide, the vibrator in your hand hovering against your clit. He wants to hear the steady, dull buzzing sound mixing with your whimpers, to see the way your body tenses up and you whine, feet flexing and shaky breaths slipping past your lips as you slowly work towards your high.

He wants to see the way you eventually grow impatient, changing the vibrator’s setting and immediately crying out, the feeling much more intense and making your orgasm hurtle towards you, getting slick all over the bedspread as you cry out his name and writhe.

And Shouta doesn’t want you to look at him – he doesn’t want you to acknowledge that he’s there. Ignore him, just as you would have back when he was simply watching from outside your window – he wants to watch you, not have a show be put on for him.

You’re just too pretty, and there’s something about watching you that gets him hard as rock, his fist twisting and flicking so quickly it’s nearly a blur as he watches you transition to fucking yourself with the toy, your cries loud and wanton as Shouta grunts and curses under his breath. He wants to finish with you this time, his hips thrusting against his hand in an effort to match the pace you’ve set for yourself. It’s a dirty secret of his, and while Shouta won’t force you into it, just know that he would love to catch you masturbating – just the sight of you pleasuring yourself is enough to get him hot under the collar immediately, hand rushing into his trousers to cup himself because god.

He just likes to watch you, and even during regular sex when he’s folded you in half, those eyes are alternating between watching your face, your bouncing breasts, and your cunt swallowing his cock again and again and again, his cheeks a rosy pink and a bead of sweat dripping from his brow.

You’re just too pretty, he can’t take it – how can he not immediately want to get something of his on you, staining your lovely skin and gorgeous face with his cum?

OTHER NOTABLE KINKS INCLUDE

Hair Pulling

But not on you – unless you like it, in which case he might consider but will only ever do it lightly. He doesn’t like causing pain in general, and would only be willing to do it in very specific scenarios – and even then, it will be as gently as he possibly can.

Rather, Shouta likes when you pull his hair – he doesn’t let most people touch it, and it’s a rare day that he actually runs a comb through it, so as a result his scalp is extremely sensitive. And so, when you tunnel your fingers through his dark locks and pull, Shouta audibly groans, the tingling pain sending pleasure racing down his spine.

There’s just something naughty about it – only you get to touch him like this, so only you get to run your fingers through his hair and tug at it.

He particularly likes when you pull it while he’s got his face between your legs. He likes how your fingers tunnel through it and scrape against his scalp, and he’ll often use it as an indicator of whether he’s doing a good job or not. If you pull often and hard, he knows he’s doing what he needs to do – he’ll keep the pace up and stay in that same spot, doing everything and anything in his power to keep you pulling at it, working through any pain in his jaw or tongue because he needs to make sure you’re feeling good even at his own expense.

When he’s got you perched on his face, your pretty thighs framing his head so that all he can smell and taste and feel is you, he likes to have you reach down and still pull lightly at the roots, your breasts squished together and nipples taut, the visual alongside your taste and the slight pain from his scalp making his eyes roll to the back of his head and precum dribble down his length.

When he’s hovering over you and thrusting into you, balls clapping against your ass and your legs wrapped around his waist, he likes to have you tug at his hair, moaning out and crying his name with each tug and letting his ego swell, each burst of light pain making his hips go harder, faster, deeper, anything to get you louder and clenching around him tighter.

Even when you’re just kissing – simple, innocent kisses full of smiles and his hands gripping you just ever so slightly, Shouta likes to have you running your hands through his hair and tugging lightly, keeping him on his toes and forcing his cock to life.

He just really, really likes to have you touch his hair – it’s something intimate and something he’ll only ever let you do, so really, you should count yourself lucky. Shouta sure does when he’s buried deep inside you, watching your face and feeling your hands in his hair as he gives you every last drop he has to offer.

Mirror Sex

In general, Shouta absolutely loves watching you in bed. He thinks you’re genuinely the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, and when you’re gasping on his cock and moaning his name, you’re even prettier, even more breathtaking and lovely and perfect.

And while he prefers positions where he can see your face, he wants to be able to see your expressions always, even if he’s got you bent over while he presses his back to your chest and mounts you like some sort of wild animal.

And so, to solve this problem, Shouta invests in a modest, simple mirror that he keeps facing the end of your ‘shared’ bed – it’s roughly four feet tall and two feet wide, the perfect size so that when he’s got you on your hands and knees for him, your back arching and your arms threatening to give out, he can watch your eyes roll to the back of your head.

He’ll experiment with the pacing of his thrusts, going deeper and harder to see the way your brows scrunch up, how your jaw drops and the most depraved whine slips out of you, pride and arousal swelling in his chest because he made you make that noise.

He’ll go slower and keep his thrusts brushing against the spots that make you gasp just so that he can see the way your lips twitch.

He’ll speed up, fucking into you so fast that his balls slap lewdly against your ass, the noise filling the room alongside your pants and his groans, watching all the while how your eyes flutter and your back arches. He’ll sit you in his lap facing the mirror, spreading your legs and getting to work with his fingers curling and rubbing inside of you, a thumb circling your clit and his lips at your ear as he tells you to watch, pretty, see how good you look?

He’ll kiss a line from behind your ear, down your neck and over your shoulder, occasionally glancing up to the mirror to make sure you’re actively looking, whispering praises against your skin each time.

And he’ll bring you close to the mirror, too – sitting you only a foot away from the reflective surface, letting you get a nice view of Shouta’s favorite sight – your cunt, all spread out and wet, practically begging for something big, heavy, and throbbing to fill it, to stretch it out and make you see stars.

He’ll spread your lips, exposing your clenching hole, smiling at your reflection and making you tell him that you’re pretty, forcing you to grow comfortable with your body because he knows that it makes you insecure to see so much of yourself, and it drives him crazy.

He’ll even fuck you against the mirror – forcing you to watch your face from mere inches away, your hot breaths fogging up the glass, and he’ll make you come like that – holding your chin straight ahead and telling you to watch, sh-shit, watch, don’t take those fucking eyes off your face in a strained voice.

He just likes getting a good view of you during sex – you’re too pretty not to be seen, after all.

BIGGEST FANTASY

In general, Shouta absolutely loves being intimate with you. While he’s no virgin, he doesn’t have an extensive amount of experience, and frankly he’s never been the biggest fan of sex – it’s too messy, too energy draining, and just a massive hassle.

However, when it’s with you, and when you moan his name just right and leave your nail marks down his back, Shouta will gladly strip his clothing at your beck and call, his lips already on yours before you can even finish your sentence.

And while he loves good, rough, passionate sex that’s full of smacking hips, gasps, moans and growls, there’s something to be said for slower, gentler sex, the kind that’s full of airy breaths and slow, meaningful kisses.

It’s the kind of sex where you can really feel him; every inch of him, the way his body covers yours as he hovers over you, the tickle of his hair against your jaw and neck as he buries his face in the juncture of your shoulder and collarbone, his hips rocking into yours and managing to grind against that one perfect spot that gets you sighing out a moan. It’s just more intimate this way, less of a wild, frantic race to get inside of you and more a slow, controlled love making, as embarrassed as he is to use to term.

Regardless, you’re most likely to get this type of sex from Shouta in two specific scenarios – the first of which being after a very long day, filled with a harrowing patrol where he maybe wasn’t able to save everyone, or things didn’t go according to plan. When this happens, he needs to just hold you, to feel you, to hear you whisper his name under your breath and tell him how good he feels, how he’s the best you’ve ever had, how he’s the only one you’ll ever want…

The second – and far more likely – scenario is in the early hours of the morning, when the sunlight is streaming into the modest apartment he keeps you in, your shared bed feeling warm with your bodies pressed against one another. Soft, sleepy morning sex is Shouta’s favorite, and something that he tries to incite as often as he possibly can.

There’s just something about it that gets him hot under the collar; maybe it’s the casualness of it all, the way it feels so natural, so human and so right, as if your bodies were made for each other. Maybe it’s the way it feels so intimate, like you’re both raw, yourselves in the most wonderful way.

Or maybe it’s the way you’re still just slightly sleepy, and you’re much more likely to be clingy at this time, touching him more and letting your real noises come out, not hindered by any shame or hate or embarrassment.

Regardless, Shouta loves it – so on the rare weekends where he’s off, expect to be woken up on the brink of an orgasm just as you deserve.

A yawn slips past Shouta’s lips, eyes peeling open and seeing the gray of his bedsheets. Everything is warm and soft, and as he shifts slightly, something moves next to him.

Nothing seems real for a few moments as he gazes down at you, your body curled up next to his own. It doesn’t feel real that you’re really here – in his bed without any clothing, happily sleeping without a care in the world. He swallows, something coming over him and moving him slowly – carefully – peel off the covers, moving down to where your legs slightly part.

He leans down, face mere inches away from the tufts of your pubic hair, his eyes fluttering closed as he inhales. You’re perfect – and as he gently pries your legs open further, Shouta can’t help but think of how often he’s fantasized about this very moment – how often he’s dreamt of what’s between your thighs, how he’d lay awake at night and press his fingers between two pillows, grinding his fingers against the cotton and pretending it was you, imagining how warm and wet you’d be for him.

He swallows, determination setting his brow as he lays onto his stomach, shuffling so that he can lightly lick at your inner thighs, eyes closing at the familiar taste of you. He takes his time, going slowly and softly, licking closer and closer to your pretty folds, eventually reaching them and licking his lips at the taste.

A thumb comes up to slowly press against your clit, knowing too much pressure would hurt and not warm your body up the way it needed. He continues his licks, before switching roles and starting to suckle at your clit as a finger dips between your folds, collecting the slick and rubbing it between his fingers.

Soon he’s pressing one inside, feeling the way your thighs twitch slightly, a small, sleepy moan ringing in his ears. God, you’re so damn perfect – even unconscious you’re enough to get his cock throbbing against the cotton sheets.

He keeps his pace slow, but as time passes you stir a bit, and when he hears your sleepy voice mumble out his name, Shouta curses, his fingers speeding up a bit.

That gets you more awake – soon your fingers are carding through his hair, sighs and murmurs of his name sounding like heaven.

“Mm, Shouta, that feels good…” You mumble, still dazed from waking up. Your hips are twitching now, a sign that the pleasure is slowly beginning to build.

Shouta groans against your cunt, the sound muffled.

Soon his fingers are picking up the pace again, his circles and licks at your clit growing more insistent, and the hands weaving through his hair start to tug – the sensation gets him humping at the bed for a moment, the morning glow still shining on you as he glances up at your face. You look like an angel – shining in the sunlight, your lips parted in a moan, head thrown back in pleasure.

Shouta pulls back for a moment, sending a kiss to your clit that makes your hips buck. He chuckles a bit, licking his lips.

“You’re so beautiful..” He whispers against your thigh, pressing open mouthed kisses against the skin. You hum at his compliment, and he watches as you smile, his breath practically punched out of his lungs.

“Shouta, you’re too good to me…” Your voice is soft, too, and soon he’s back to sucking at your clit, feeling the way your body jolts slightly, the pleasure making you sigh and swallow. He watches the movement of your throat.

“Feels good, mm yes, oh Shouta - just like that,” You start, eyes closed again, and Shouta finds himself abandoning the gentle pace he’d adopted, instead being more insistent, more pushy – suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to get you coming on his fingers.

You gasp lightly at the new change in pace, grinding your hips to match the new stimulation, and it makes Shouta dizzy. How can you be so attractive? How can you look so perfect in this moment; in his bed, moaning his name, looking and tasting and smelling like his own personal slice of heaven?

It’s cheesy and he’s almost embarrassed, but tears prick at the corners of his eye.

Soon your gasps have turned to moans, and all too soon you warn him in a slurred voice that you’re coming, your back arching up off the mattress and your moans light and airy as you gush against his fingers, white coating all the way down his knuckles and onto his palms. It makes him choke a bit, the feeling of your cunt rhythmically clenching down on him and your chest heaving, and with a final lick to your clit that makes you jerk, he’s moving up to kiss you.

The kiss is slow, his tongue brushing against yours and wet sound filling the room, but Shouta doesn’t mind. How could he, when he’s never felt this relaxed before?

His eyes slowly open as he feels your fingers wrap around him, a thumb brushing along his tip to collect a bit of the wetness there.

“Shouta, let me make you feel good.” You tell him, your voice just a whisper.

He looks at you, his lips parted for a brief moment, before a small smile quirks up the corners of his mouth. “Why would you do that?”

You trace the line of his jaw with your free thumb. The slow strokes of his cock have him a bit distracted, but he hears every word you speak to him. “Because I love you.”

He swallows, the words making something feel tight in his throat.

You laugh a bit at his silence and the dumbstruck look on his face. “What? Do you not love me too?”

And to answer that, Shouta scoffs, leaning down to kiss you again as he grasps himself around the base, pulling himself away from you and pushing into you, feeling your sharp intake of breath against his lips.

His pace is slow, soft, like he’s trying to tell you something – hips moving slowly and deeply, letting you feel every inch of him. He kisses your neck as your head falls back, your eyes fluttering closed.

Pressing a kiss against your collarbone, Shouta smiles against your skin, a groan falling from his lips.

“I love you, more than you’ll ever know.”

And he means it – you’ll don’t know half of the things he’s done for you, and as he squeezes at your breast and hears your soft moan, he knows he’ll never tell you.

#yandere bnha #yandere mha #yandere aizawa #yandere eraserhead #bnha smut #mha smut #_bnha #_shouta aizawa #_lee's profiles

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meangirls-imagines · 2 months

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Forever Will Last

Description: reader and reneè hit a bit of a rough patch after the vanity fair oscar party.

WARNINGS: 2,677 words of angst and happiness and fluff. reader plays for the us women's soccer team and angel city. guest appearances by christen press, tobin heath, and ali krieger.

y/n's heart broke as she saw the video.

"towa bird and reneè rapp make their red carpet debut as a couple"

as she sat on their couch, medal in hand, she felt her heart shatter into a million pieces. she had just gotten back from winning the gold cup and opted out of celebrations with her team in hopes of celebrating with her girlfriend.

she was going to propose to reneè that night. and now here she was, almost shattering her phone with how strong her grip was on it. she never really understood why adam never liked her, but she never thought it would go this low.

he had proposed towa and reneè be in a pr relationship so that way the world didn't find out about her and y/n. plus, it would help launch both towa and reneè's careers. y/n didn't really have a choice, having to agree to the stunt. a little piece of her died every time she had to see towa and reneè close.

she had composed herself enough to get up and pack some things. the season was starting soon and she still had training to go to. she grabbed all of her essentials for that and some extra clothes, finding the ring while packing. tears stung in her eyes as she put the little box on the bed.

she found a piece of paper, deciding to leave reneè a note instead of a text. she took a deep breath, leaving the note on the bed and leaving. as she got in her car, she looked back at the house that once felt comforting to her. now, it just felt empty and hollow.

she got in her car, having a destination in mind, and left without looking back.

reneè and towa stumbled in the house hours later, towa laughing at the blonde who tripped over her dress. reneè had drank a lot but had sobered enough before she arrived home. "reneè, get yourself together. you don't wanna wake your girl up." reneè nodded and her and towa hugged before the girl left.

reneè tiptoed to the bedroom, ready to take this dress and makeup off before melting in her girlfriend's arms. she missed y/n so much at the party. all she wanted was y/n to be with her, showing off her hot, soccer playing girlfriend. she and adam had gotten into a fight before she had left for the party, the man taking her away from watching her girlfriend play in the gold cup.

he had even gone the extra mile and held reneè's phone for her so people would actually believe that she wanted to be there. her and towa had enjoyed themselves, but even her friend could tell that the blonde didn't wanna be there.

as she opened the bedroom door, she found the room empty. her heart dropped as she spotted the letter and the ring box on their bed. y/n was nowhere to be seen. she looked in their bathroom.

nothing.

their guest room.

nothing.

the blonde was on the verge of tears. her girlfriend was nowhere to be seen. she spotted the note once again and with shaky hands, opened it, tears finally spilling down her face.

reneè,

i never thought i would do this.

before i say anything, i want you to know that i love you with every fiber of my being.

but i can't do this anymore. i can't sit back and watch someone else get to show you off as theirs. i don't think i was ever okay with the idea but if it helped you skyrocket into stardom, i just went with it because i wanted to see you succeed. the world deserves to see you shine. which is why it's so hard to have to let you go.

i feel like an anchor. like i'm holding you back. you deserve to shine, stargirl. just not with me.

i wanted to be with you forever, but i guess forever wasn't meant for us.

you deserve better reneè, and i really hope you find it.

i'll always love you.

shine on stargirl.

y/n

reneè was sobbing, leaving tear marks over the already dried ones on the note. she had no idea y/n felt like this. she couldn't imagine how the girl felt seeing her and towa do things that she wanted to do with reneè.

reneè opened the ring box and sobbed harder at the beautiful diamond ring inside. she turned her phone on to call and notifications began pouring in, breaking reneè's heart even more.

her little brother had texted her a play by play of the gold cup final, expressing his excitement to see y/n again after her game winning goal. her parents had even texted her about the game. she went to twitter and saw the highlights of the game, sniffling as she watched y/n make the game winning shot to eventually win the final. she cried again when she saw a picture of y/n holding the cup and the gold ball awarded to her.

she immediately called alyah, telling her to come over.

y/n sighed as she trekked up the familiar path to a familiar front door. she knocked three times and waited for the person to answer. the door opened, revealing christen press. she took one look at y/n and pulled her into a hug.

christen had a gift for knowing when her adopted daughters needed a hug. as soon as the older woman's arms wrapped around y/n, the dam broke. she began to sob in the woman's arms. hearing the commotion, a worried tobin heath and ali krieger came around the corner, their hearts breaking at the girl crying in christen's arms.

tobin went to grab the bag y/n dropped as ali guided the two into the living room.

the women had no idea what had made y/n cry like this, but they were going to get to the bottom of it. quick.

back with reneè, alyah and reece had made it and were both consoling the blonde. she had since changed into one of y/n's national team hoodies and sweats. "reneè, have you tried calling her?" reneè shook her head, not saying much as she fiddled with the diamond ring on her left hand. alyah sighed, looking at reece for help.

the boy sighed and leaned forward. "nae, did y/n tell you how she felt about the stunt?" the blonde nodded. "the day adam brought it up, she expressed her concerns about it. i took them to heart but adam just brushed her off." alyah sighed. reece continued. "have you seen some of the videos fans make of you and towa? because if i didn't know you, i would think you're dating towa."

reneè looked at him confused as he pulled out his phone, opening TikTok.

video after video, reneè began to understand. if she saw videos like this of y/n and one of her teammates, she was sure she would react the same. alyah, while also seeing the videos, had tried calling y/n, but no one was answering. she just hoped y/n had the same support system that reneè had at the moment.

after explaining what she had been feeling and what was the breaking point, y/n waited for the older women to speak. tobin spoke first. "well, i think you two need to sit down and talk about how you feel and if reneè is open to finding a new team. i don't think she should work with someone that wants her to not be herself." the other woman agreed.

ali took y/n's hands in hers. "y/n, listen to me. you cannot let that girl go. she makes you so incredibly happy and i don't want you to lose that happiness. you and reneè were made for each other. please do not let her go." y/n laid her head on christen's shoulder. "i just don't want to hold her back from her full potential. she deserves the world and i'm not sure i can give her that."

the women's hearts broke at the girl's words. after y/n's last breakup, they had seen how the girl had closed in on herself, her insecurities being blared to the public. when she met reneè, they saw a sliver of the old y/n back. they didn't want her to close back in on herself after she had worked so hard to overcome that.

back with reneè, after much talking with alyah and reece, she knew what she had to do. she grabbed her phone, calling adam.

"we need to talk."

the nwsl season opener had come to quick for y/n's liking. angel city was playing bay fc for their home opener. y/n had been staying with christen and tobin for the remainder of the offseason. she hadn't talked to reneè since that night, but christen had been keeping up with the blonde for y/n. the girl was shocked when she learned that reneè had fired adam and gotten a new manager.

christen and tobin had tried to get y/n to talk to reneè but the girl wouldn't budge. she stood by her choice to let reneè be the star she was meant to be. as the team took their places in line, y/n stood next to ali riley as they read off the rosters for the opening game. the woman rubbed y/n's back gently. "you okay joey?"

y/n chuckled at the nickname. ali had given it to upon their first meeting. "yeah. i'm fine. just nerves." she didn't wanna tell the older woman she wished reneè was here to cheer her on. the defender smiled at her and they took their places on the bench, ready for the game to start.

reneè smiled at the usher who scanned her ticket as she stood off to the side, waiting for her brother, parents, alyah and reece to join her. her new manager, julie, had joined them too. reneè had fired adam on the grounds of being too controlling of her life, and she found julie shortly after.

after explaining the situation she was in, julie had immediately gotten with towa's manager and released a statement explaining that their relationship was no more than a stunt and that they are very close friends and collaborators. renee's fans had blasted adam on all socials about what happened and were very much in support of reneè.

the blonde had decided that she wasn't going to let anyone get in the way of her getting what she loved. and she loved y/n and wanted to spend the rest of her life with her.

so, diamond ring on her hand, and one of y/n's jerseys on, she and her group walked to the vip section of the stadium and waited in anticipation for the game.

obviously, with cameras in 2024, people began to notice the blonde sitting pitch side with her family. people took pictures and posted them on socials, speculating.

@reneefan2: ARE RENEÈ AND Y/N TOGETHER? BE STILL MY HEART

@y/nisthegoat: GUYS I JUST SAW RENEÈ RAPP AT THE ANGEL CITY GAME AND GIRLY HAD ON A Y/N JERSEY AND A VERY INTERESTING THING ON HER LEFT RING FINGER!! OMG

@reneerappnews: Reneè Rapp spotted at the Angel City home opener, sporting a y/n y/l/n jersey. *photo attached*

@uswntfan13: guys. reneè just took a picture with my friend and when we asked who she was here for, she just smirked and said "my baby." OH MY GOD??

come halftime, the entire stadium and world seemed to know that reneè was at the game, except the person she was here for. y/n had never really been the person to check her phone during halftime but some of her teammates were and when they saw reneè here, they all shared a knowing look, deciding not to tell y/n.

after the halftime pep talk, the teams made their way back onto the field. at about the 65th minute, y/n made her way to the ref to sub in for sydney leroux, who happened to be wearing the captain's band. the crowd started to scream louder as the hype video for y/n began to play on the jumbotron.

reneè noticed and pulled out her phone to take a picture. as they showed y/n getting ready to sub in on the screen, she snapped the picture, posting it to her instagram story with the caption "captain, my captain ❤️". she locked her phone and began to watch the game, tracking y/n intently.

at around the 85th minute, angel city got awarded a corner kick. with the score being 0-0, the home fans watched in anticipation to see if this was going to end the game or send it into extra time. y/n paced around in the box, waiting for the right moment.

ali riley put her hand up, signaling the kick, and shot the ball into the box. y/n jumped, and thanks to her jumping ability, headed the ball into the back of the net, scoring.

the stadium went wild, as the team huddled around y/n, screaming and cheering. they all got back into position and played the last few minutes of the game before the final whistle blew, signaling the end. the stadium erupted as the players shook hands and did their laps around the stadium.

as y/n was signing a young girl's jersey, christen came up behind her and hugged her. "i'll take over here, there's someone who wants to see you." y/n nodded and hugged the little girl and turned to walk back in the direction christen came from. as she walked, she noticed tobin standing next to someone but y/n couldn't see who.

as she got closer, she recognized that blonde head of hair anywhere.

reneè.

the girl stopped walking and looked at reneè in shock. she wasn't expecting the girl to be here, of all places. the blonde had finished her conversation with tobin and spotted y/n standing a few feet off, frozen in shock. the blonde smiled and walked the remaining distance to y/n stopping a few feet in front of her.

"hi." y/n shook herself out of her shocked state to answer. "hey."

reneè took this as her opportunity to speak.

"i'm so so sorry baby. i should've known to shut that shit down before it started. i thought you were okay with it and i was wrong. and when i came home that night and you weren't there, a piece of my heart went with you. and then i saw the note and the ring." at the mention of the ring, y/n's eyebrows shot up to her hairline. she then noticed the diamond sitting on reneè's left hand.

reneè noticed what y/n was looking at and smiled. "yeah. i found the ring. and reading your note helped me realize what i had to do. i did have some help." she looked back. y/n followed her sight and saw reneè's family, alyah, reece, preath and ali all standing off to the side, bright smiles directed at y/n.

y/n gasped as reneè took the ring off her finger, gently grabbing y/n's hand and placing it in her palm.

"will you ask me?" y/n blushed as she slowly got down on one knee.

"reneè, i never imagined proposing to you while all sweaty and gross from a game but here we are. from the moment we met, i knew you were the one i wanted to spend the rest of my life with. you bring light into my world, filling it with joy and laughter. i cannot imagine a future without you by my side. that being said, reneè mary jane rapp, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

reneè had tears running down her face as she nodded. "yes! a million times yes!" everyone around them cheered as y/n stood, sliding the ring back on reneè's hand. reneè leaned in and kissed y/n so passionately, it was like the rest of the world disappeared around them, letting them have their special moment.

twitter the next day erupted at the post of one picture by the official USWNT instagram page:

reneè rapp and angel city forward y/n y/l/n are ENGAGED! we wish the couple nothing but the best as they enter this next chapter of their lives! welcome to the family, reneè!

#renee rapp x reader #renee rapp #renee rapp imagine

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verysium · 6 months

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『01』呪術廻戦: jujutsu kaisen recs

五条悟: gojo satoru

i know you still think about the times we had by @saetoru

satoru will always comes when you call him, he just never thought you’d stop calling. notes: satoru is so desperate and pathetic here it is just delicious; has the right amount of angst to cause tension but a good ending to soothe my poor heart; traditional rich boy and disapproving mother/father scenario but implemented relatively well; miscommunication and feelings of inadequacy; reader realizing the extent to which satoru loves them

pretty eyes by @quirklessidiot

in which the right eye is mine and the left eye is yours and when we meet for the first time, you see your own eyes staring back at you. notes: takes tragic star-crossed lovers to a whole new level; riddled with parallels and symbolism; idea of illness and loving someone at their worst; right person, wrong time at its finest; fate being unnecessarily cruel; surprising moments of humor

minazuki by @quirklessidiot

In which Y/N L/N is placed under a union she has no choice but to partake for the sake of her survival. notes: this series needs to be scientifically studied; it is just that good; halfway in and i fell in love with the reader instead of gojo; strong and somewhat morally grey characters; dark themes around femininity in a patriarchal society but concept was executed flawlessly

21: only by @tenjiiku

“What do you want, Satoru?” You do not use his last name or any honorific to address him despite his age. He was older than you by a few years — but certainly did not act the part — so you do not think he deserves your respect. Your host father told you he does — something about his being from a prominent private school as an educator, which you cannot possibly fathom being the truth — but only in front of you is Satoru Gojo an inane, odd man with a need for clean, dry-cleaned clothes that, for some strange reason he has conjectured in his equally baffling mind, that only you can provide. He smiles at you, placing his cheek in his hand. “You.” notes: this fic embodies the duality between gojo and satoru; he is easy-going until he isn’t and you realize he actually has a considerable amount of depth; the plot twist did it for me; satoru being a loud-mouthed tease but secretly harboring feelings

soulswap by @orphxus (impxria)

this is where the evening splits in half, love or death. grab an end, pull hard, & make a wish. notes: short but realistically describes everything wrong with jujutsu society; poetic voice; gojo being serious for once; disillusionment and tragic hero archetype; being the strongest yet being unable to save anybody; geto would read this fic and feel seen

両面宿儺: ryomen sukuna

nocuous by @quirklessidiot

“It’s ironic, isn’t it? I knew how this was going to end but I’m still terribly hurt by it.” notes: the heian era setting is so complex and established even through dialogue and subtle description; reader strikes me as older and able to deal with sukuna’s chaotic nature; sukuna being an absolute menace is sending me; tragic angst but almost didn’t notice it due to how beautifully the images are presented

avīci by @rotpeach

Several years ago, Satoru Gojo was involved in the exorcism of a uniquely stubborn curse. The official report states that one of Ryomen Sukuna's fingers was recovered from the scene, and nothing else. Only the two of you know the truth. notes: gore, gore, and even more gore; boy was this fic a wild ride; imagine a work that condenses the ugliest and most revolting parts of human nature yet presents them so elegantly you start questioning the blurred lines of morality; cannibalism, violence, and love triangles; japanese mythology & folklore; heian period references; cursed spirit reader tries to grapple with the idea of self after being created for the sole purpose of serving others; themes of existentialism, identity crisis, obsession

#fic recs #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader

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beardedjoel · 7 months

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pretty little wife | meet cute, part 1

joel miller x f!reader one shot collection

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | ✨kofi ✨ summary: 8.3k words; you didn't feel like going out for your friends birthday that night, but it turned out fate had very different plans for you. or a flashback to the night joel and pretty wife met. warnings: 18+ MDNI! no apocalypse au, relationship not established here like the other chapters, unprotected piv, public sex, rough sex, sub/dom relationship, dirty talk, pet names for reader, alcohol consumption a/n: this was getting super long and has been so much fun to write so i'm splitting it into two parts to also show their first date! i'm actually so obsessed with them its getting delusional and not even funny anymore but i digress

You hadn’t particularly wanted to go out tonight, but it was your friend Hanna’s birthday and her soft, doe-like eyes when she’d begged you to come had you giving in quickly. Sure, you had what felt like a million things to study for, homework piling up, but the more you thought about it, the better a night out sounded.

She’d picked a relatively nondescript dive bar as her venue of choice, saying that it had cheap drinks, and seeing as it was her 21st birthday, she wanted to get drunk for as little money as possible.

You and about ten other girls file into the bar, immediately having what feels like every set of eyes in the room on you all. You’d bet it’s not every day that an overdressed, loud group of young twenty-something’s walks into this place ready to get plastered.

You all crowd around a few tables, pushing them together, and Hanna spots a jukebox, excitedly gushing over the way she’s going to put on all of her favorite songs later and dance when she gets drunk enough.

After your first cocktail, you’re already having so much fun that you wonder why you even had any doubts about coming out tonight. You laugh hard at something one of your friends, Rachel, says and your face falls immediately as your attention catches on something across the room. Not something, but someone.

A man, who you’d guess is somewhere in his forties or fifties from the looks of it, is sitting with his own group. Even in the darkened shadows of the room, you’re mesmerized - he has a grumpy smile on his face as he chats with the person next to him. He runs a hand through grown out, dark curls and you can see the top half of his body above the bar top, muscled and broad and so inviting.

You force yourself to blink, about to look away, when you see his eyes catch on yours. You feel your heart sink, hoping he didn’t catch you staring so intently, but swear he gives you a little wink before turning back to his beer that he’s nursing in one hand. Your insides flutter at the gesture, hoping your delusional self didn’t just imagine him sending that wink your way.

You feel your stomach twist, and realize that despite how attractive you think he is, you’re typically way too shy to make the first move, so it’s unlikely much will come of this newfound attraction. You couldn’t help but continue to glance at him while you chat with your friends for the next hour, drinking in his mannerisms and ruggedly good looks, wishing you could hear what he was saying across this crowded, noisy room.

You’d never felt like this before upon simply seeing someone, and it made your brain buzz more than the alcohol was, a steady little humming in the back of your mind. In fact, you hadn’t had more than a cocktail at this point, and were actively trying to blame this crazy feeling you were having on anything other than the handsome stranger you just couldn’t seem to stop staring at.

You decide maybe another drink would help, so you break off from your friends to go up to the bar and order something.

You’re looking over the list of cocktails on a concerningly sticky laminated menu, scrunching your face up in disgust. You knew this place was divey, but their list of cocktails is downright depressing. Your first one hadn’t been very good, either, so you decide to change directions and order a beer instead.

You glance around the room as you wait to catch the busy bartender’s attention while they flit around, taking orders and making beverages. Your eyes widen a bit as they land on Handsome Stranger, who is now openly meeting your gaze without shame.

You try to avert your eyes out of pure embarrassment, but you keep yourself staring for a moment too long before nervously chewing your lip and gazing down at the bar, pretending to be overly interested in the menu again.

When you gather the courage to glance back up at where he was sitting, Handsome Stranger is gone, and you survey the area in a tiny panic, swinging your head to the side only to see him curving around the edge of the bar and walking straight towards you.

He’s coming over. Oh god.

He settles himself against the bar right next to you and clears his throat a little, cocking his head.

“Hi, there,” he says, and your jaw nearly drops at the husky, rasping accented voice that drips off his tongue like one of the sweetest sounds your ears have ever heard. You actively fight a shudder that wants to wrack your body, thinking of what that deep rumble would sound like against your neck, your lips, your everywhere.

You give him a nervous chuckle and swallow hard, hoping he doesn’t notice. “Hey,” you reply, wishing you suddenly felt less shy under his dark, brooding gaze. You suddenly are overly aware of how loud the room is, a myriad of classic rock, pop, rap, and everything in between blaring through the speakers from the jukebox the entire night. The realization hits you that you two may have to get closer to hear each other coherently and your stomach twists a little in anticipation.

“Listen, I don’t usually do-“ he starts, but you can’t catch what he’s saying over the noise, so you scrunch your brows together and cup your ear in his direction.

“What’s that?” You feel like you practically yell the words to him, your cheeks heating as he starts to lean closer. His face is merely inches from yours now, his mouth angled towards your ear. You get a better look at his face now, his dark, wiry beard with a few graying patches, and some deeper set lines in his face surrounded by speckled, tan skin. He’s rugged and handsome and everything that turns you on personified. It’s actually insane, now that you think about it, to see someone so seemingly perfectly made for you looks-wise, let alone have them interested in talking to you.

“I said…” the man says, clearing his throat again. “I don’t usually do this kinda thing, but…” he trails off, studying your face for a few moments. You watch on intently, already enraptured by his words, not even able to form a follow up to prompt him to continue speaking.

“But you’re so damn beautiful I had to say somethin’ to ya before you snuck away,” he says. His voice hits deep in your core now that it’s closer, sending you belly swirling in a sickly addictive feeling, one that you already know will be hard to shake tonight. You blink hard, wondering if he’d managed to speak to the wrong girl, but he’s looking right into your eyes without an ounce of doubt hidden behind those dark irises.

“I… don’t know about that…” you mumble, but he cocks his head further, brows knitted together.

“Would never say somethin’ like that if I wasn’t telling the truth,” he replies a bit more seriously. You bite your lip and decide that maybe you do trust him - that this handsome, mystery man really does have eyes for you in a bar full of attractive women.

“Well, thank you,” you say, puffing your chest up a bit with a smile. “You’re not too bad looking yourself,” you add on, finally feeling a bit of your icy shyness melting away.

He chuckles lightly, rubbing a nervous hand behind his neck, leaving a red mark in its wake. “Would you have a drink with me?”

You lick your lips and then bite the bottom one, contemplating. You don’t fail to notice Joel’s eyes flick down to that exact spot, then to your throat where you swallow again.

“I’d like that.”

“Somewhere quieter?” he calls out towards your ear, and you nod enthusiastically. He orders you two drinks, shooting an eyebrow up when you request a beer as well, and leads you to a small, cozy booth off to the side where there at the least aren’t speakers directly over your heads.

“Now,” he rumbles out, folding his hands on top of the table “What’s a girl like you doin’ here?” he asks as you slide into the seat across from him and settle in.

You breathe an amused laugh through your nose. “My friends,” you say, motioning with a thumb over your shoulder in their direction, where they’re seemingly still having a great time together, a fit of giggles as they all sip their drinks. “One friend wanted the divey experience tonight for her birthday, I guess. Cheap drinks.”

Handsome Stranger’s eyes flick past you to your friends, and you see a flash of recognition as he processes Hanna’s extremely gaudy 21st birthday sash. You can see the gears turning, see him putting the pieces together as his lips part from the tight line they’d been settled in.

“Hmm,” he grumbles, eyes back on you and seeming to consider you for a moment, taking in your face and making you feel your body temperature suddenly rising. You want to tug on your collar, do something to alleviate it, but can’t give him the satisfaction.

“Shit,” you mumble under your breath, breaking completely under his stare. “I- I’ll be twenty two soon, so… I’m not…” you trail off, losing all conviction in whatever message you were trying to convey. Handsome Stranger has been too quiet, too guarded regarding this new information, and you feel your stomach turn nervously.

“Did I just mess this up?” you blurt out, your face betraying you completely and contorting into a worried expression. He gives you a tired sounding chuckle, running a hand through his beard then back around to his neck.

“No, darlin’, sorry. I - I don’t have a problem with it. Jus’ needed a second. You look… a bit older, so I was surprised, I guess.”

Your shoulders sag in relief - you hadn’t expected to be so devastated at the prospect of losing your new acquaintance’s attention so quickly, and only because of your age. You’d always been interested in older men, and had even been on a few dates with some, but nobody that pulled you in immediately like the stunningly gorgeous man sitting in front of you now.

You lower your eyes to your lap, wringing your hands together. “You don’t have to be nice, I understand if you’re not interested. I’ve ended up being too young for a lot of guys I’ve talked to.”

“You’re talkin’ to a lot of guys my age, are you?”

Your eyes shoot back up to him, finding a new confidence that he’s still flirting with you. You shrug casually, fluttering your lashes a bit as you smirk. “Maybe, maybe not.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, frowning. “I gotta say, I don’t think I like that.”

You lean forward on the table, folding your arms in front of you as you rest your forearms down to support yourself. You stare into his dark yet warm eyes and try your best to cock an intimidating eyebrow.

“And why is that?” you ask, upping your voice an octave, trying to sound more innocent.

Handsome Stranger takes a deep breath, sighing and mirroring you by leaning himself closer to you. You can inspect him even closer now, smell the beer on him and whatever that musky, manly scent is that he carries with him, something you can already tell will be addictive.

“‘Cause I want you all to myself.”

You stun at his words a little, knowing that your face is giving it away - your confident, fierce facade fading in an instant. You lick your lips nervously, his dark, desirous tone digging deep inside of you, lodging itself in your core and starting another pooling of arousal between your legs. You finally turn your lips up a little, meeting his gaze with a hard stare again while you put your chin in your hands.

“You’ve got me right here, don’t you?”

He seems to like that, breaking the intensity between you two with a small laugh, leaning back and taking a long sip of his beer.

“I’m Joel,” he says, and your smile widens as you consider the name on him, finding it suits him perfectly. It dawns on you that you’d been so absorbed in the conversation you didn’t even realize that you had no clue what his name was, that you may have even been content to fall in love with the man right here tonight and not even know his name.

You tell him your name in return and it gets a genuine grin out of him, like hearing it for the first time was an answer to a question he’d long been asking himself.

“You know, I could ask you the same thing - what’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?”

“Don’t think I look like the kind of guy who spends his nights in a place like this?”

“I mean… sort of…” you say shyly, trying not to laugh nervously. “You come here a lot?”

Joel seems amused by the way he’s getting you to blush and stutter. “Sometimes, with some crew from work. But that‘s what I'd expect, not… someone like you, honey. Ain’t no place for someone like you.”

“Well,” you twist your lips to the side teasingly. “I’m here, whether you like it or not.”

“Or not?” Joel chuckles incredulously. “Think I made it clear I certainly like it.”

You just give him a smug smile and sip from your drink, trying not to make a sour face in front of Joel, who seems to actually be enjoying his beer quite a bit. You’ve never been a big fan of beer, but it’s at least better than those stomach churning cocktails.

“So, here with people from work… what do you do?”

“Contracting. Jus’ started my own company, actually. With my brother.” Joel tells you, and you give him an impressed raise of your eyebrows.

“That’s really cool. Very impressive that you’re the big boss.” You lean in again to show your interest and toss your hair over your shoulder.

Joel’s eyes flash a little darker. “Like hearin’ that name from you,” he chuckles, “Otherwise it’s been a lot of pressure to be the boss, I guess.”

“Is it going well, though?”

Joel nods with a little shrug. “S’okay. Pickin’ up now so we’re doin’ good.”

You give him an encouraging smile, trying to think of what to say next, feeling like a nervous mess around him, wanting him to think you’re interesting and worth his time, not just some young girl with nothing to offer.

“Now what about you? Assume you’re in school?” he asks.

You try not to roll your eyes at the sore subject and breathe out a sigh. “Yeah, I am. I just… I’m not really into it.”

Joel looks on curiously. “Uh-huh. Boring classes?”

“Not even that. I just don’t… like it. I’m so tired of having no clue what I’m doing. I thought about teaching, doing something like that, but I don’t know…” You let out a small sigh. “Sounds entitled or stupid maybe, but I just can’t find my passion there.” You feel your frustration coming out unfairly onto Joel, dropping your hands onto the table with an irritated thud.

“Not at all, sweetheart,” Joel says, laying one of his hands on the table, offering it to you as he slides it over, resting it on top of yours. “Some people ain’t meant for school. I didn’t really have a choice to not go to college, but worked out alright for m’self, right?”

You nod with a thoughtful look, despite barely knowing much of anything about how things worked out for Joel, but you believe him. Or at the least, he sounded happy enough to be owning his own contracting company.

“Thanks,” you say simply, offering him a grateful smile.

Joel leans forward again on the table, not moving his hand from yours, and you feel hot all over. “‘Course. Now how ‘bout I help you find what you’re passionate about, hm?”

An hour and several more drinks later, you’ve moved over to Joel’s side of the booth at his insistence, where he pulled you nearly onto his lap, your thighs crossed over his as your ass is planted in the booth right next to him. A steady arm of his is wrapped around your back and pulling you close to him, stroking relaxed circles as you two chat. You feel perfectly content, buzzed from the alcohol and comfortable in Joel’s embrace, despite this being the first night you’ve even met him Something about him has put you at ease yet excited you, a consistent skittering of electricity across your skin where it connects to his.

You’ve discovered that you have more in common with a man in his mid forties than you might have thought. But along the way you’ve noted enough differences that you two have to keep the conversation balanced, having different interests and perspectives to add into the mix. Your banter has some kind of alluring pull with Joel, never stopping the beautiful flow of chatter and laughter you’ve found together until he leans in on a quieter moment, kissing your cheek and then moving to your neck. You feel your breath hitch at the warmth of his lips, your body stiffening yet going soft for him, breathing out shakily.

“Mm,” you whimper quietly, unsure if he can hear it over the noise of the room.

“Like it when I kiss you here, hm?” he rumbles, moving his lips to your ear where he ghosts his lips over your sensitive earlobe then back down to your neck.

“Uh-huh,” you manage to say, eyes fluttering as you lean further into him. He keeps kissing every sensitive little bit of skin on your neck, trailing down to your collarbone and inward. “Jesus…” you whimper as he suddenly sucks lightly on your neck, testing you.

“I gotta mark you, let everyone know…” he murmurs, sucking another spot not even inches away. You squirm, grinding your ass into the seat as you rub your legs together, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by Joel. “You’re mine tonight.”

You feel your cunt clench around nothing, squeezing tightly and wishing some part of him was filling that void, letting you squeeze around it while he practically makes you come just by putting his lips to your neck.

“Mhm… yours…” you mumble, lolling your head back in the throes of your pleasure.

“Taste so good, sweetheart, bet you’re just as sweet everywhere else, too,” Joel says, his tongue flicking along where he’s just sucked harder, testing the waters.

You can only moan quietly, not even daring to think about the other people in the crowded bar who could be witness to your overly raunchy public display. In fact, you find that you barely care, not with the way Joel’s lips feel like heaven every time they touch you, the way he’s making little satisfied noises next to your ear as your body responds to him.

“Joel…” you moan wantonly, starting to go more limp in his hold as he continues teasing you. He slips a hand between your tightly squeezed together thighs, bringing his palm up to cup the outside of your jeans. You know he must feel how warm and damp you are, even through the few layers there - he’s thoroughly teased you to a point where you’re hurting, your cunt aching and pulsing for him, dripping and soaking your panties.

“Christ…” you hear Joel exhale, his breath catching for a moment in his throat. “Fuckin’ soaked for me. Someone needs to get taken care of, doesn’t she?”

You only nod as he palms you harder while he’s speaking, desperate and unable to even find the words. You’re completely undone, trying to come to terms with the fact that Joel is about to ruin any other man for you in just a few short moments together.

“C’mon, then, let’s go,” Joel announces, patting your thigh, urging you to move. You follow him, beckoning you out of your seat with him, grasping your hand as he leads you to the bathroom. Your skin tingles where he holds your hand, his fingers intertwined with yours, and your palms sweat as heat courses through you, settling and pooling deep between your legs.

You two burst through the door, saying a silent thank you that it’s just a single person restroom at this bar - no stalls, no other people to shoo out of the way. Joel slams the door behind you with built up aggression and you hear the lock click.

He’s on you before you can even register that it’s happening, pressing himself close and wrapping one of his large palms around the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair. He pulls your head towards his eagerly, crashing his lips into you, not giving you an inch of space with the way he’s tugging your head closer.

You both ravenously clash teeth and tongues and lips until you’re practically breathless. One hand bunches on his shirt, clutching him to you, the other wrapped around his neck, burying itself in the dark hair that curls down. Your bodies draw together over and over, starting a steady grind on each other, barely even registering where one body begins and ends as you both chase pleasure using the other's body.

You moan quietly when you start to feel him against your steadily aching cunt, his erection warm and pressing against his jeans. Your hands shake a little with excitement as you reach in between your bodies to grab him outside the denim, and he groans into your mouth.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, finally pulling his lips away from yours. He looks down at your swollen, puffy lips, chin red underneath from his scratchy facial hair. He can’t take his eyes off of yours though, so bright and eager for him as your pupils blow out with desire.

“Don’t usually do this either, get random girls into the bathroom with me, swear,” he adds, and you laugh a little against his lips.

“I’m hearing a lot of that from you tonight,” you tease.

“Jus’ the effect a girl like you has on me,” he quips back, and you find your cheeks warming and flushing at his words. Despite having just met him not even a few hours ago, you find that you believe him, that you are someone special to him. This strange connection, this pull you feel towards him has you questioning many things, and especially the fact that you’re fully about to fuck someone in a public restroom - something you’d never have imagined yourself doing.

Until Joel.

He seems more in control now, leaning forward to pepper your face with kisses, catching the corners of your mouth and pulling away just before you can meet his lips again. You pout as he does it for the third time, moving his lips right underneath to your chin, soothing the irritated skin there from his beard hairs. He finally gives in, kissing you with an open mouth, lapping his tongue sensually against yours, while his hands slip down your back and to your ass. You nearly melt, the intense softness of the way his mouth is moving on yours is starting to make you dizzy. You lean closer for support and Joel catches your chin between his thumb and forefinger as soon as he pulls away from the kiss.

“Get on your knees f’me, hm?” he says, studying your expression to read your reaction to his request.

You only consider it for a moment, the hardness of the floor on your knees, the dirtiness of it all, but your body and mind both tug at you, your knees feeling a buzzing, like they need to go down and touch this cold, unrelenting floor for him. You’d never considered yourself a very dominant person in your past relationships, but you’d also never had anyone trying to dominate you.

Not like this, at least. Not with the tone he’s using, the way he’s looking at you like he knows you’ll do it for him, like he knows you want to listen to him. To be good for him.

Your knees bend, settling in front of him as you place your hands on his hips. You lick your lips absentmindedly, thinking about them settling around the cock you can see pressing against his pants. You feel a new flood of arousal at the thought, the way you’d never have considered doing something like this in the bathroom of a bar, but you like this side of you that Joel is bringing out.

“Fuck. Good girl,” he rasps, and you stop, your lips popping open at his words, like something in your brain suddenly clicked into place at what you heard.

“Can you s-say it again,” you ask quietly, reaching up slowly to his belt.

“What? Like being called a good girl, do you?” Joel’s smile curls into something sinister, and he tucks his fingers under your chin, making sure you’re looking up at him from where you kneel. “Jus’ happens I like to fuck good girls, so you’re in luck.”

You can only remind yourself to breathe as his words flood you, douse you in complete and utter arousal on every inch of your body, leaving you speechless. Your skin practically tingles as you wait for his next move, hands frozen on his belt.

“I’ll be good for you,” you whimper when he releases your chin, your head falling down a bit with the sudden loss of his support. Your hands get back to work, and Joel watches with satisfaction, a hand coming down to stroke the back of your head. You nearly find yourself purring like a cat, feeling a rumble of satisfaction deep inside of yourself at the gesture.

“Mm,” Joel says, his eyes narrowing down at you. “Much as I want your mouth on me, we’ve got our whole lives for you to suck my cock, pretty girl, and tonight… I need to fuck you. Like nothin’ I’ve ever needed before in my life.”

Before you can even reply his hands tug you up from the floor and you stumble into his arms, caught by the sheer size and strength of his entire body against you. He swings you as you crash into him, pressing you back against the sink counter. His hands expertly unbutton your black, skintight jeans, unzipping them and starting to shimmy them down over your ass, his lips still attached to yours.

“God damn it, makin’ it hard, ain’t you, with these tight little pants…” he murmurs, moving his full attention to pulling down your jeans, finally getting them to your ankles.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t like my jeans?” you ask innocently as you step out of them, and Joel takes in your black lace panties, wetting his lips at the sight. Joel just growls in response, a resounding yes, bumping you so that your ass hits the counter again.

“Up” A simple command, but you’re too lost in the moment, feeling every inch of his body burning into yours, so you hesitate. “Don’t make me ask again,” he snips, and you feel your insides twist, your cunt clench around nothing inside of your soaked panties at his commandeering tone. You stand on your tip toes and let him help hoist you onto the counter. He steps forward between your legs, his face now level with yours and his hips coming flush with you.

“Look at that… perfect fit,” he comments with a smirk, looking over the way your bodies are coming together, the way his cock will shortly have the perfect angle to slide into your tight hole.

You give him a little giggle. “Perfect…” you echo, smiling as you look between your legs and then back up to his face.

Joel’s thumbs dig under the waistband of your panties, starting to pull them down with the help of you lifting your hips. He holds them up, inspecting the slick, shiny stain you’d left, taking up most of the underwear. He simply shakes his head, fingering the wetness and smirking before balling it up and stuffing it into the back pocket of his jeans.

Amused, you smile dazedly at him and reach out to grab at his arms, pulling him closer. Your fingers dig into his muscled biceps and you bite your lip at how absolutely fucking hot it feels.

“Look at that little pussy, doll, so pretty, ain’t it. Gonna be all mine,” Joel says, peering in between your legs as he works on his belt and zipper. When his cock springs free from his jeans you try to hold back your stunned gasp, but Joel notices it, the way your eyes widen as you breathe in sharply. He’s not just big, he’s thick, and while you have some experience, this is certainly new and uncharted territory for you.

“Hey,” Joel says, pulling you back to reality as he puts both hands on the sides of your face. “I know, but we can go slow if you need. Won’t be upset.”

You’re reeling with so many different thoughts - the rational part of your brain wanting to take Joel up on that offer, but the absolutely batshit crazy for him part of your brain doesn’t care one bit, only wanting him to take you, make you his.

You slowly shake your head, meeting his stare from under your brows. “Don’t…” You wet your lips, pouting them out for him. “Go slow. Fuck me like you mean it, like I know you want to.”

Joel completely breaks, shaking his head and his expression twists into something completely feral, part of him gone to that other side of him, the one you know that needs you just as badly as you need him.

“So fuckin’ obedient. Such a good girl.” You clench at his words, finding your body practically has an involuntary response to hearing his praise, drunk on it and desperate for more. He smirks, pressing himself close, both hands snaking around to the globes of your ass as they sit on the counter and squeezing. He delivers a swift slap to one of them before tugging hard, bringing you flush with his cock now resting at your entrance. You moan and gasp with the pain and pleasure of his palm smacking your flesh but give him a needy look as encouragement.

“Gonna take me like the dirty little slut you are, lettin’ me fuck you in this bathroom,” Joel growls out as he presses forward, the head of his cock bursting into your entrance with one swift push of his hips. You whimper and nod to answer him, completely distracted now.

You can feel yourself clench all over, just the thickness of his head is overwhelming, but he doesn’t stop, just slides into you inch by inch and you swallow hard and try not to tremble too much. You feel his head kissing deep inside of you, and your mind is swimming, wondering how you’re even taking so much of him right now.

“Good girl, that’s right, take it so good…” Joel mumbles, his eyes hazy and dreamy as he feels you tighten and contract around him. He gently kneads where he’s holding onto your ass to try to soothe you.

Your hold on his shoulders reaches a death grip as he starts to move inside of you, slowly at first. You find yourself appreciating that despite telling him to fuck you hard, he’s still being careful at first just in case. You buck your hips forward, pressing him just the tiniest bit deeper. Joel hums a little and chuckles at your insistence.

“That eager, are you?”

“I told you to fuck me like you want to,” you snip back, rolling your hips into his again.

Joel leans forward to bury his face against your neck, sighing. “Gotta stop sayin’ that, darlin’, makin’ me crazy.”

His lips flit down to your chest, where your low cut tank top is askew now, tits half falling out. He palms one of them before pulling your shirt down so that they’re both spilling out.

“Don’t keep these pretty things from me, wanna watch ‘em when I fuck you,” he says, and you smirk, seeing how worked up Joel already is over you. It makes you feel so good, so desired, so unlike any other man you’ve been with before.

He slides his cock into you a little faster, picking up speed with each thrust until you’re sure you can’t take it anymore. You know your face is contorted into a mixture of pleasure and pain, unsure how your body is even accommodating his girth right now, feeling like you’re being split open, your insides completely full of him.

“My god, oh my god,” you mumble breathily, your brows knit in a concentrated look, trying to focus on the pleasure rather than the pain.

“Thas’ it, babydoll, you got this, focus on me,” Joel encourages you, and you try to relax your body, feeling yourself finally adjusting more to his size. “Good girl, take it so good, yeah.”

He looks down to where your bodies meet with a satisfied smile, seeing you stretch over and over as you take his cock repeatedly. He’s starting to hit a heavenly pace now that your body is molding to his, taking him like you were made for it as he starts to jackhammer into you. You moan his name quietly under your breath, holding back as you hear the drone of the muffled music outside the bathroom, reminding you that you’re in a public space.

“Feels good, don’t it?” Joel grunts out as he, “Be a good girl and be loud f’me. I can see you holdin’ back.”

“Feels so good… so big, Joel,” you moan out a little louder,

“Thas’ right, baby, my big cock fits perfectly in this tight little cunt, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, yes,” you nod eagerly, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck, anchoring yourself to him while he pounds into you. You’re deliriously accepting all of it through the pain, the kind that’s nearly addicting because your body knows it’s good. You respond heartily to him, squelching, pornographic sounds reverberating in the bathroom as he pumps his length in and out of you.

“Christ, you’re so fuckin’ eager, so fuckin’ wet… c’mere,” Joel says suddenly, pulling out of you and yanking you by the hips off the counter where you land on shaky feet. He spins you and thrusts you against the counter, fumbling slightly as he grabs at your ass cheeks and spreads them apart. One hand slams onto your back as his cock slides between your legs and splits you open again, the sting of the stretch coming right back to you for a moment as you gasp. He pushes down, laying you flat onto the cold countertop, your bare tits pressed against it.

“Up a little, let me see those perfect tits, honey,” Joel says, a hand going to your hair to yank on it, making you arch your back enough to get your chest off of the linoleum. “That’s right, there we go, so fuckin’ pretty,” Joel says, keeping his hand buried in your scalp, your locks gripped tightly in his palm to continue keeping you right where he wants you. You feel your tits bouncing like he wanted, your nipples grazing against the countertop each time he thrusts you forward. The sensitive buds send wave after wave of arousal through you each time they contact the cool surface, and as he lifts your hips slightly you nearly choke as he hits something deep and pleasurable inside of you.

“Oh… oh… n-no it’s too much…” you mumble, feeling like your eyes could start to cross every time you feel him pressing near this part of you, so you flutter them shut.

“Uh-uh. Eyes open, wanna see you lookin’ in this mirror at how pretty y’look right now.” Joel yanks tenderly on your hair, not as hard this time, keeping your attention. You pop your eyes open, and look at yourself, heavy lidded, cloudy, hardly recognizing yourself or anything around you. Only able to feel the way Joel is impaling you with the strangest, most intense, pleasurable feeling you’ve ever had inside of yourself.

“Wh- wh- it feels so - o-oh my god, I c-can’t,” you cry out at the tail end of your sentence as Joel jolts his hips harder, flesh slapping against flesh repeatedly.

“S’okay, you’re takin’ it so good, doll, that’s jus’ your g-spot, baby, don’t worry,” Joel says soothingly, switching over to a protective mode for a moment when he can see the worry flash in your eyes.

Your mouth falls open and you let out a languid, fraught moan as he tilts your hips a little more, catching the spot on a new angle. If you were being honest, you’d never stimulated your g-spot before - not by yourself, and certainly not with any other men, and now you were wondering how you’d lived without doing it for so long. It felt like the sweetest build up of pleasure, filling a hole deep inside of yourself with warmth, starting to tingle all the way through your body to the tips of your limbs.

“Fuck… don’t stop, don’t stop, please,” you cry out, feeling your knees shake, supported by Joel as he presses against you and keeps a tight hold on your hips. “I’m - shit - I’m coming, Joel. Harder, please.”

“So,” Joel spits out with a thrust. “Fuckin.” Thrust. “Polite.” Thrust. “Pretty girl.” He ups his pace even more, something you weren’t sure was possible and you’re bouncing forward, the edge of the counter digging into your torso and head nearing the mirror as he gives you his all.

You explode, a scream of his name clawing out of your throat when the pressure snaps suddenly, sending you practically convulsing, limbs taut and shaking as you clench in spasms around him.

“Babygirl, she feels so tight, squeezin’ me like that,” Joel murmurs in a wavering voice, continuing his unrelenting pace. He wraps his hands underneath where you lean against the counter, cupping your tits and pulling you up as he leans down to meet your body - flesh against flesh, the sweat forming on your back soaking into his soft flannel shirt. You can feel the damp warmth of the fabric, like he’s been sweating through it this entire time, and it smells earthy and like sex already. You feel your orgasm reach a peak at the thought of leaving your scent on him tonight.

“J-joel, come inside me, fuck,” you cry out, meeting his gaze in the mirror with a heady look. For once, Joel follows a command instead of giving one, grunting with a final push of his hips, shooting his spend deep inside of you.

“D-dirty little cumslut, wantin’ me to fill you up, make you mine, mmm” Joel says with a groan, his hips bouncing a few more times while he rides down his high.

You can only nod, feeling fully fucked out and limp while he finishes using your spent cunt. You know it’s risky, that you should have thought more before tossing the idea of a condom aside in your mind, before asking a virtual stranger to pump his seed into you, but you truly don’t care. You only care about Joel, about giving to him what you knew he wanted. He didn’t even have to say it, but the way he fucked you, so rough and unrelenting, he wanted this, wanted to mark you in some way that would stick with you long after he pulls out. He wanted you to go home, find his cum leaking out of you onto your legs for the rest of the evening, be reminded of what he gave to you, how he ruined you.

You both stand in place, breathing heavily until Joel makes the first move, pulling himself out and tucking his cock back into his jeans. You feel raw, achy in the best way, and Joel notices your hesitation to move and wraps an arm around the front of you, bringing his lips to your ear.

“Good girl,” he whispers, biting the lobe and you shudder. “Good fuckin’ girl, y’know that? God…”

“I like being a good girl for you, Joel,” you say lazily, shutting your eyes as you lean back into him.

“Music to my ears, sweetheart. Now let's get you outta here, it’s late and you need some rest.”

Joel leads you out of the bathroom after you both adjust yourselves back to some semblance of normal, a hand on the small of your back as you enter the loud bar, seemingly much less crowded now than when you’d entered the bathroom.

You see your friends, still grouped together but with a few more young, attractive men in the mix, crowded around a tiny table. Your friend Georgia spots you, waving you over with a slightly tired, exasperated look on her face. She’s the assigned designated driver for the night, and you can see that she’s more than ready to start heading out. You peek at the time on your phone and it’s after one in the morning.

“Come on,” she mouths, beckoning you dramatically and you can see your friends gathering up their things, saying their goodbyes to their new male counterparts.

You turn to Joel with an anxious look, and he grasps one of your hands, squeezing tightly.

“Go on, then,” he says softly, “Don’t keep them waitin’.”

You nod with a disappointed smile, wondering if you should have offered to go home with him instead. But the fact that he didn’t ask has already gotten in your head, so you lean forward to kiss him goodbye instead. He gives you a hungry kiss, one you could easily fall right back into, drag him to the bathroom again and let him do everything he just did all over again.

He lets you go, nearly pushing you away with a small growl. You hurry over to your friends, who are shoving your purse and jacket back into your arms and ushering you away. You sneak one last glance back at Joel, standing with his hands in his pockets, wondering how your life could ever be the same after tonight.

You’re in a complete panic, only minutes from your house, tears brimming in your eyes.

“Please, Georgia, we have to go back, we have to - I don’t,” you feel around your bag for something that isn’t there, that you know isn’t there. A scrap of paper, a note, anything.

“Babe, you need to calm down and tell me what’s going on,” she replies, cool and collected as usual.

“Th- the guy. The one I was with. I didn’t get his phone number. Fuck, I don’t even know his last name. I -” A small sob escapes you, and you don’t know where all this emotion is coming from all of a sudden. It’s like when you’d been with Joel, you felt so calm, so even, and you hadn’t even had a chance to think about your emotional investment in what happened tonight.

“Shit. And you think he would have wanted you to have it?” Georgia asks.

You blink, looking over at her, stunned that you hadn’t even thought of whether he wanted to see you again or not. You two hadn’t had a chance to discuss it before you’d been dragged out of the bar, but you’d gotten the sense he was intoxicated by you just as you were him.

“I - think so? It seemed like maybe he would have. But now I’ll probably -” your voice cracks and shakes a little bit. “Never see him again.”

Georgia squeezes your shoulder softly, rubbing circles on it. “I’m sorry, honey. It’s going to be okay though, alright? You never know, the world has weird ways of working things out sometimes.”

You sigh, knowing the chances of that are slim, seeing as nothing that spectacular has ever happened to you before, and you don’t see why the universe would start now. “What if he’s still there, though? We could go back, please…”

“The bar closed twenty minutes ago, you know he’s not there anymore. I’m sorry,” she replies, giving your shoulder a final squeeze before putting both hands on the steering wheel and pulling up in front of your apartment. The last thing you want is to go up to your cramped space, shared with two roommates, nothing feeling truly yours. You want to scour the streets, walk around Austin until you find Joel again, until you can throw yourself in his arms and know you’re going to see him again and again and again. You can’t believe it took you losing him to realize just how much of a hold he has on you after those few short hours spent together.

You hug Georgia a teary goodbye and trudge up to your apartment, each step feeling heavy and painful, until you reach your bed and lay down, crying until you finally find it in you to get up and get ready for sleep.

You’ll be okay, just like Georgia said. You’re still drunk, and that’s it, that’s why you’re so emotional right now. Tomorrow you’ll just be happy you had incredible sex and can move on with your life. Surely, that’s exactly how it will go.

In the morning, you find the pit in your stomach hasn’t dissipated in the least, flashes of memories from last night torturing you as you try to function the next morning. You could barely sleep last night, the few drinks you had not even able to lull you into any kind of rest. You pace your room, thinking hard with a hot mug of coffee clutched between your hands.

You know now that you have to see him again, talk to him again, even if just to confirm whether or not it’s what he wants to do. Then you could have something definitive - closure, or a new, budding relationship with the man who absolutely fucking ruined you.

You stop dead in your tracks as an idea hits you, one that could potentially lead you back to Joel. Your heart pounds anxiously as you pray that the idea works, that there’s something there, not just delusional, hopeless hoping. You rush over to your phone and quickly dial Georgia’s number.

“Georgia!” you call out a bit too loudly, barely able to hear yourself over the rushing in your ears. “Hey,” you say more timidly.

She groans sleepily on the other end of the line, and it’s not until then that realize you’re up way too early for how late all of you stayed out last night.

“Shit, s-sorry, I know it’s early, but…”

“What, babe? What could possibly be this important?” she groans into the phone teasingly, and you feel your cheeks heating up in embarrassment and shame that you woke her for something as silly as this, but you’re a woman possessed, on a mission to find Joel.

“I know, I know. I just couldn’t sleep. I feel like… he’s the one, or something. The guy from the bar. The connection was so crazy, and the sex, and I’m rambling now, god, sorry.” You take a breath, steadying your nerves. “My point is, you were sober last night. Joel said he was there with his work crew, so did you see anything? Any shirts or trucks or anything with a logo or a name for a construction type crew? Please,” you say, murmuring the last, begging word more to yourself or whatever higher power is in control of your current predicament.

You can hear the rustling of Georgia’s sheets on the other end and another sleepy sigh. “Let me think on it, okay? When I can wake up some more. I promise I’ll text you about it later.”

You two end the call and you start pacing again, your heart thundering in your chest, knowing every minute is going to be agony waiting to see what Georgia ends up texting you. The day drags on, hour by hour a wasted mess of a day, with your nerves too frayed to concentrate on much of anything - homework, studying, TV - none of it helps to distract you enough.

When your phone pings that afternoon you pounce on it, flopping down onto your bed with shaky hands, opening the notification from Georgia.

Miller Contracting.

Two words and you’re off to google after shooting her a thank you text with as many exclamation marks as you could slam out in the few seconds you wanted to spare before moving on in your search.

You find his business immediately, their shoddy little website that’s clearly was not made by any professional. It kind of makes you chuckle to think of Joel trying to make a website. The page features an uncomfortable looking photo of Joel and another man, who you can only assume is the brother he said he owns the business with. You immediately smile looking into his eyes, his hair looking a little more cropped and coiffed in this photo than it had last night. Underneath it, their phone number is listed, and your eyes widen, mouth going desert dry as you punch it into your phone.

You hesitate, your finger hovering over the send button, needing to be sure of what you’re even going to say. What if he doesn’t answer, or it’s his brother, or they even have a secretary or something? Your mind spins but you force yourself to dial the call, anyways, driven forward by an unseen force that you’re quietly grateful for as the line trills in your ear.

Ring. Steady breath. Ring. Another. Ring.

taglist: @aphterthoughtt@bbyanarchist@amy172@hazzaismyreligion @ohheypedrito@msmorningstaarr@kamcrazy123@madhere@huffle-punk@jupiter-soups

#your honor i love them!!!!!!!!#fic: pretty little wife #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #x reader

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chvoswxtch · 1 year

Text

all i need is you

pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader

summary: following the morning after matt's run in with elektra, you have a lot of decisions to make about your future together.

warnings: swearing, angst, explicit sexual content (minors pls dni), mentions of pregnancy

word count: 8.2k

a/n: y'all have been requesting a sequel to please don't be mad for almost 6 months now, & I apologize it's coming so late. there were a lot of things y'all wanted to see happen in the sequel, & I took all of that feedback to heart & incorporated as much as I could in a way that made sense to me. i've been working on this for months, & it was really important to me to create something you guys would really love & be happy with. thank you to everyone that even wanted a sequel, & for being so patient. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

[part one]

It was almost crazy to think that just over a year ago, you thought your relationship with Matt Murdock was over for good.

When you had awoken that following morning by his side, head clear of the rage and lust induced haze you had been captured in, all that was lingering was a heart heavy with hurt and stinging with betrayal. You had silently collected all of your belongings, pressed one last kiss to Matt’s lips, and granted his peaceful sleeping form one final glance before leaving your spare key on his entry table and disappearing into the twilight.

All of his words still echoed in the back of your mind, but so did his actions. The promise of marriage was eclipsed by the cherry lip stain on his collar. The prospect of a family was diluted by the scent of an expensive perfume that didn’t belong to you. The vow of faith and love was broken by yet another lie.

You loved Matt, more than you had ever loved anyone, and more than you ever thought you could love another person. You knew deep down that he was a good man. You tried to believe that he would never intentionally hurt you. But it had gotten to the point where you couldn’t ignore the ache he left in your chest.

You needed time to try to forgive him. You weren’t even sure if you could forgive him at all. The cut he’d made ran deep, and you couldn’t decide if it was because he’d made it with her blade, or if it was simply his own that had been slicing away at the same spot over and over and over. Regardless, you needed time. Time away from him; to heal, to think, to decide.

But Matt Murdock had never been a man of patience.

For two endless weeks your phone constantly lit up with his name, filling up with messages containing apologies and desperate pleas. You started arriving early to work and left later than usual to throw him off your schedule. You had the receptionist bypass all his calls and made security aware that he was not welcome in your office. You ignored all the usual spots that he knew you frequented, and especially the ones you went to together. For the first time in over a year, you locked all your windows to ensure he couldn’t slip through in the middle of the night. You blasted music through your headphones so you didn’t have to hear the pain in his voice as he called out your name, fist banging away at your front door so hard you were certain he was going to actually break it down.

It was torture. Even though he had been the one to wrong you, a piece of you felt guilty. You could hear the terror and remorse in his voice when he stood outside your door, begging for forgiveness, chanting your name over and over as if you were the deity he worshiped and needed absolution from. It left a bitter taste in your mouth to be yet another person to turn your back on him, but through the wave of your sadness came the tide of anger, reminding you that he had done this. He had forced your hand. He made a choice, and you had to make yours.

The guilt from also having to ignore Karen and Foggy weighed heavily on your chest. They knew what had happened. You had just as many sympathetic voicemails and unanswered texts from them asking if you were okay, and if you wanted to talk. You hated not being able to lean on them when you were at your most vulnerable. They were your family just as much as Matt was, but you couldn’t talk to them or be around them. They just reminded you of him. A huge part of you resented him for that, for making you feel like you couldn’t go to the two other people you loved most in this world for comfort because of what he did. You had spent the past few years building your entire life around Matt, and he had selfishly sent it crashing to the ground, leaving you completely isolated beneath the debris.

For two long weeks, you felt trapped beneath a heavy blanket of depression you couldn’t seem to find your way out from.

And then she happened.

How Elektra had managed to break into your apartment when Matt couldn’t, you weren’t sure, but the day you came home to find her in your living room with a bag of your things packed by her feet, you were stunned silent.

“I need you to come with me.”

“What? Why?”

“Because Matthew is an idiot and he’s put you in danger. We need to go. Now.”

She didn’t even give you a chance to hesitate, gripping your overnight bag into one hand, and forcing you out your door with the other. The ding of the elevator dropping you to the lobby seemed to wake you out of whatever trance she had put you in, and you stared at her in confusion as you stood firmly outside the metal doors.

“I don’t understand. What are you doing here? Where are we going?”

“I’ll explain when we get there. We need to move.”

“I don’t-“

“Listen. You don’t know me. You’ve got no reason to trust me. But right now, I am trying to save your life. So if you’ll please-“

“Why?”

Elektra paused for a moment as she looked at you. The annoyance on her perfect features vanished slowly, taking in the pain and confusion that were clearly plastered on yours.

“Because you’re important to Matthew, which means you’re important to me.”

Elektra filled you in on everything the moment she had secured you away in a penthouse uptown that was registered under an alias. What she and Matt thought were the Yakuza had ended up being a much older and sinister organization called The Hand. They were into some freaky cult shit that you didn’t quite understand, but you got the gist that they were powerful, and extremely dangerous. They were also everywhere. They had tracked her and Matt, and a man named Stick that had trained the two of them, back to Matt’s apartment the night after the gala. They had been tracking him ever since, and because he had continuously been going to your office and apartment, they knew all about you.

She even told you the truth about how she had met Matt, and how it had all been a set up by Stick to bring him back to their side; to fight the war that he had been warning them both about.

“I don’t know what Matthew has told you about me. Probably nothing good. But I need you to know…I did love him. That’s why I left. I realized…he wasn’t like us. He would never be like us. He was too…good. He didn’t belong with Stick and I. I didn’t want to be the one to put that light out inside of him. I didn’t want anyone to. I didn’t mean to cause any trouble between the two of you the night of the gala. I wasn’t aware that he hadn’t told you that I was in town, or what we were doing. I swear I was only trying to protect him.”

There was a glimmer of regret dancing along Elektra’s waterline, and you could see her own pain shadowing the faint smile on her lips.

“You weren’t the one that lied to me.”

Elektra blew out a breath as she took a seat in front of you, dragging her teeth along her bottom lip as she nodded.

“Matthew always has pure intentions. I know that. But for someone who is incredibly intelligent, he’s also a complete dumbass. He tries so hard to do the right thing…but he doesn’t stop to think about if he’s doing it the right way. Look I don’t…I don’t know anything about the two of you, and I’m not telling you what to do, but I can tell you that he is absolutely in love with you.”

“So…you didn’t come back to New York for him?”

“For his help, yes. To rekindle whatever we had, no. But for the record, even if I had, I wouldn’t have stood a chance in Heaven or Hell against you.”

There was something oddly comforting about Elektra’s words and the timid smile on her lips. It eased some of the tension pent up in your body, and you felt a little lighter as you let a deep exhale out through your parted lips. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you glanced over at her as you anxiously twisted a ring around your index finger.

“I…thank you. You…you didn’t have to…do all of this. I hate to even ask anything of you when you’re already doing so much for me but…can you just…not tell Matt I’m here? I’m not ready to talk to him yet.”

Elektra flashed you a pitiful smile as she gave a slight nod of her head.

“Of course. It’ll be our little secret.”

It only took Matt three days to figure out that Elektra had been hiding you, and as he burst through the front door of her penthouse, he was absolutely incandescent.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me. You’ll have a sleepover with her, but you won’t talk to me?”

“Watch your tone, Matthew.”

Elektra glared over at Matt, tightening her grip on the knife in her hand that was hovering over a cutting board filled with various ingredients.

Matt furiously tore off his glasses as he angrily pointed his finger in her direction, the top of his lip curling up into a menacing snarl.

“I don’t want to hear shit from you after you-“

“I protected her because you led the Hand right to her. You’re fucking welcome by the way.”

Elektra let out a deep angry exhale as she turned to face you with a sour pout on her lips. She gestured her head in Matt’s direction with a quirk of her brow.

“I can get rid of him if you’d like.”

“Excuse me?”

“I wasn’t speaking to you, Matthew.”

Sighing heavily as you let go of the whisk in your hand, you pushed the large bowl of batter forward on the kitchen island and wiped your hands off on a small towel. Rubbing your hands over your tired eyes, you waved your hand dismissively towards Elektra.

“It’s…it’s fine, Ellie. I’ll deal with him.”

Elektra eyed you for a moment before shooting another glare in Matt’s direction. She dropped the knife onto the cutting board, wiping her hands off on the same towel before clasping them together loudly.

“Right, well, I’ll leave the knife out just in case. Remember the three main areas I taught you to stab. I’ll be upstairs if you need me.”

After you watched Elektra disappear upstairs into her bedroom, you turned around to face Matt. His eyes were absolutely wild with rage and his face was morphed into complete disbelief as he blanched at you.

“Ellie? Since when the hell is she Ellie?”

“Since she’s the only one around here that tells me the truth about what the fuck is going on.”

Matt clenched his fists at his sides as he stared blankly over at you, and you watched as a muscle feathered in his jaw.

“What did she tell you?”

“Everything you didn’t.”

You could practically feel the anger radiating off of him in waves, but you had more of a right to be pissed off than he did. Matt shoved his hand into his pocket, producing a shiny silver object that he held out in front of him between his thumb and index finger.

“What is this?”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you arched one of your brows as you looked at him.

“A key.”

Your key.

Matt’s nostrils flared as he clenched his jaw, quickly crossing the distance between you to stand directly in front of you.

“Don’t get smart with me. Do you have any idea how it felt to wake up that next morning and you were gone? All of you, your things, everything gone? And to find this on the table? Not even-“

“I’d imagine it was as shitty as you coming home covered in red lipstick and smelling like your ex lover's perfume. Or as shitty as finding out you lied about where you were and who you were with, and that you kissed her and lied about that too.”

Matt ran his hand through his hair quickly in annoyance before dragging it roughly down his jaw, shaking his head as he flung his arms up in the air with frustration.

“Goddamnit Y/N, we talked about that! We worked through it. Then you just…disappeared and ignored me for weeks. You won’t return any of my calls, you won’t open the door, I can’t even-“

“We didn’t talk about anything, Matt! You kept trying to justify your actions and completely ignored how I was feeling. We didn’t work through anything. You manipulated me and we fucked. That is not working through it.”

Matt sighed with exasperation as he stared at you incredulously.

“I did not manipulate you. Fuck, I told you that I wanted to marry you and have a family witn you-“

“In the middle of sex, Matthew! I don’t know if you even meant that, or if it was a heat of the moment thing. And don’t you dare say you didn’t manipulate me. You took advantage of the fact that I was frustrated and that you hadn’t touched me in weeks. You knew I would give into you. How do you think that makes me feel? That you completely ignored my feelings, manipulated me into sex for forgiveness, and filled my head with all those promises knowing that our relationship was in a bad spot. I can’t trust a word that you say because you can’t seem to stop lying to me.”

Matt’s anger evaporated the second he tasted the salt of your tears in the air. He hung his head between his shoulders in shame, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as the severity of your words nestled in the silence. Letting out a soft sigh, Matt’s tongue darted out to quickly wet his lips.

“You’re right.”

His hazel eyes were more clear without the cloud of vexation, and you could see the way they glistened with regret. Matt’s plump lips fell into a frown, and guilt seemed to tug the rest of his features down like gravity.

“I’m sorry. I swore to you that I wouldn’t lie after I told you the truth about me. I broke my promise to you, I betrayed your trust, and I disrespected our relationship. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I never, ever meant to hurt you. I didn’t want you to get mad that I was working with Elektra. I didn’t think…I wasn’t thinking. I wasn’t considering your feelings. I shouldn’t have kissed her. I could’ve come up with another diversion. All of this could’ve been avoided if…if I had just told you the truth.”

Matt let out a shaky breath as his blank eyes glanced upwards, closing for a moment as he clenched his fists by his sides. A stray tear slipped past his lashes when he opened his eyes again, slowly lowering himself onto his knees before you as he reached for one of your hands to hold.

“I have been…absolutely fucking miserable these past few weeks, and that’s my own fault. I know that. I have hated not getting to feel your touch, or hear your voice, or be able to tell you how much I love you. I am so fucking sorry if I ever made you question how I feel about you, but Y/N I meant every word that night. You are the love of my life. You do belong with me. I do want to marry you and start a family. I swear to God, I will do whatever it takes to earn your trust back and your forgiveness. Just tell me what I have to do sweetheart, and I’ll do it.”

It broke your heart to see Matt look so distraught. It stung even more than he was on his knees begging for forgiveness instead of asking you to spend the rest of your lives together, but there was an undeniable conviction in his voice. It soothed the pang in your chest slightly to finally hear him acknowledge his fuck up, and apologize for it instead of getting defensive. Elektra had melted away the insecurity you had felt with her confession, and the frightened look that shattered Matt’s face showed you just how scared he was to lose you.

There was still a lot of work to be done on your relationship. It wasn’t going to be fixed overnight, and Matt was going to have to put in a lot of effort to earn your trust back, and prove to you just how much your relationship mattered to him. But you were in love with him, and you knew there was no one else for you but him.

“You can start by taking care of this…”Hand” shit. I’m not loving the fact that I’m being hunted by zombie ninjas because of my idiot boyfriend.”

Matt’s ears instantly perked up, and a lopsided hopeful grin stretched across his lips.

“I’m still your boyfriend?”

“For now. You’re dangerously close to being replaced by Elektra, though. She’s always bluntly honest, and her bed is way nicer.”

You never in a million years thought that your boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend would fight just as hard as he would to keep you safe, but Elektra had. She protected you from The Hand just as fiercely as Matt did, nearly giving her life for you both, and now she was securing the last button on the back of your wedding dress and staring at you in the mirror with a knowing smirk.

The morning you slipped out of Matt’s apartment heartbroken and desolate seemed like a lifetime ago as you prepared yourself to meet him at the altar in just under an hour.

“What’s on your mind, little dove? Got cold feet?”

Elektra quirked one of her dark brows as she stared at your reflection with her signature smirk. Karen had left the two of you alone to go check on Matt and Foggy, and she was helping you with your finishing touches.

After helping save New York, Elektra had stuck around, and to both of your surprises, and certainly to Matt’s, you two had become very close. The more you got to know the more vulnerable side of her, the more you felt for her. She wasn’t the villain that everyone had painted her out to be. She had been a scared little girl, manipulated with a promise of something resembling a family, only to be broken down and molded into something to orchestrate death and destruction instead. It wasn’t unlike what Stick had done to Matt. As a matter of fact, it was worse.

“If I said yes?”

Elektra hummed quietly as she moved your hair off your shoulder, leaning in to rest her chin on it as she wrapped you up in a hug from behind with a grin on her lips.

“Ever been to Paris this time of year? It’s beautiful. We could be at a private air strip before anyone even knew what happened. Matthew is fast, but he can’t outrun a Maserati.”

A grin broke out across your lips as you giggled, squeezing onto Elektra’s arms when she winked. You had never been more sure of anything in your life than you were sure that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with Matt Murdock. Both of you knew that. But you also both knew he was eavesdropping just on the other side of the church, and it was incredibly easy to rile him up.

As if on cue, Foggy suddenly burst through the door and pointed a finger at Elektra with an expression of pure irritation on his face.

“Whatever you’re telling her, knock it off. You’re scaring the shit out of him, and he’s already convinced enough as it is that she's not gonna walk down that aisle.”

“Oh relax, Franklin. Girls got to have their fun, yeah? Besides, I thought they called him the man without fear.”

Foggy rolled his eyes as he shut the door behind him, walking over to shoo Elektra away as he stood behind you and adjusted your veil down your back.

“Yeah, until it comes to her. Go head to head with the Punisher who's notorious for using automatic weapons with sticks? Sure. Take on a weird cult of ninjas that can’t die and like to use really sharp swords also only with sticks? Why not. Fuck it, let’s use every goddamn tall building in Hell’s Kitchen for parkour practice. But ask the woman I’m ridiculously in love with to marry me and put up with my shit for the rest of our lives? That’s where the devil seems to tuck his tail between his legs.”

Matt had been an absolute nervous wreck the night he proposed to you. He had brought you to the same restaurant that he had taken you to for dinner on your first date, and was fidgety the whole time. Every time you asked if he was okay, he swore up and down that he was, and you figured there was just something overwhelming one or several of his senses. But then you noticed that despite it being mid November, he was sweating as you walked hand in hand through Central Park, and his hand kept nearly slipping from yours. Finally, you stopped and turned to face him, placing your hand on his chest to steady him.

“Okay, what’s going on with you?”

“N-Nothing, I’m fine. Let’s keep-”

“No, you aren’t. You’ve been acting strange all night. You’ve been anxious and fidgety, and now you’re sweating.”

“It’s hot-”

“It’s November, Matthew.”

Matt’s lips parted slightly as he went to protest, but nothing came out. He was usually good at coming up with excuses on the spot, but whatever was going on with him had seemed to completely take over his mind. A soft sigh slipped past your lips as he averted his gaze to the ground, watching as he clenched his fist by his side. You took a step forward to place your hands gently on his cheeks to cradle his face.

“Matty, please talk to me. Is something wrong?”

“No, no nothing…nothing is wrong.”

“Then what is going on? What’s got you so worked up?”

“I’m not worked up-”

“Matthew.”

Matt let out a sigh of defeat hearing the tone in your voice, his tongue darting out to quickly wet his lips as he attempted to flash you a reassuring smile.

“Can we just keep walking please? There’s something I wanna show you.”

There was evident excitement in Matt’s voice, but it didn’t resonate with you. The way he kept dodging your questions was beginning to put you in a sour mood, conjuring up a bitter taste of realization that he was on the cusp of breaking an oath he had sworn to keep. Dropping your hands quickly from his face, you shook your head in frustration as you turned around swiftly to walk ahead without him.

“You promised me you wouldn’t do this anymore.”

You only made it two steps forward before Matt blurted out a confession laced with full blown panic.

“I’m in love with you.”

Immediately pausing, you turned around to look at him in complete confusion.

“I know that, Matt.”

Matt let out a heavy exhale as he rushed forward and took your hand into his, scrunching up his nose as he shook his head quickly.

“No, I…I mean…that I’m…fuck, this isn’t going right.”

Matt pinched the bridge of his nose as his lips pursed into a frown, and you eyed him curiously as you gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

“What isn’t going right? What are you talking about?”

“Will you just…come with me? Please? I really need to show you something.”

Matt’s face was twisted in what looked like agony, and the desperation in his voice made you nervous. You didn’t think you had ever seen him look so…terrified, not even that night at Elektra’s when he thought you were going to leave him for good. You allowed Matt to guide you further through the park, venturing off down a path only he seemed to know, and stopping once you reached a gate that was covered in ivy. He pulled a key from his pocket to unlock it, and pushed it open with a slight creak, gesturing for you to enter first with a timid smile.

A shocked gasp flew past your lips as you stepped inside. It was an isolated garden, completely closed in by ivy covered walls, lit up only with various strings of white twinkle lights and the glow of the moon. To your delight, there were several plants and flowers in full bloom, and the whole scene looked like a vibrant painting you would hang on your wall.

“I hear this place is beautiful.”

Turning around to face Matt, you noticed that he had taken off his glasses, and was apprehensively turning them over in his hands over and over. The timid smile was still plastered on his lips, but his eyes were nearly blown open with distress.

“I…it’s…I don’t even know how to describe it. How…how did you find this?”

“Karen did. It’s technically private property owned by the city, but Brett owed me a favor.”

The puzzlement on your face only grew as you stared at Matt, a soft laugh leaving your lips as you gestured around.

“Is this why you’ve been acting so weird? You didn’t think I’d like the surprise?”

Matt’s eyes darted back and forth blankly as he dragged his teeth along his bottom lip, swallowing thickly as he placed his glasses into his jacket pocket and took a few cautious steps forward.

“I…I hoped that you’d like it.”

“Matty, I love it. It’s so beautiful. But you didn’t have to be so nervous to show me this. You could’ve taken me to a random alley and I still would’ve loved it.”

Matt let out a breathless laugh as he shook his head, clicking his tongue against the inside of his cheek as he smiled softly.

“Then it wouldn’t have been special.”

A furrow formed between your brows as you looked at him, trying to decipher all the cryptic pieces he was laying in front of you.

“What wouldn’t have?”

Matt was silent for a moment as he fixed his gaze on your face, tilting his head to the side ever so slightly as he studied you. Finally letting out a deep breath, he reached out to take one of your hands, brushing his thumb delicately over your knuckles as a slow smile spread over his lips.

“I told you, I’m in love with you.”

“And I’m in love with you, Matty.”

Matt took a step closer as he brought his other hand up to cradle your face, a tender smile on his lips as he rubbed his thumb soothingly over your cheek. You couldn’t tell if it was the reflection of the lights in his eyes, but they looked glossy, almost as if he was about to cry, and it made you squeeze onto his hand tighter.

“You…are the first person that has ever truly understood me. The first that’s ever accepted and loved both sides of me. You’ve never shied away from one, or favored the other, or asked me to choose. You haven’t given up on me, even when I’ve given you plenty of reasons to. You are the best part of my day. I can’t tell you how…how happy it makes me to know that when I come home at night, you’re there waiting for me. And no matter what kind of day I’ve had, or how rough of a night it was, it…it doesn’t matter, because you’re there. You give me a reason to make it home. I can’t tell you how much I love that I get to fall asleep holding you and listening to your heartbeat, and start every day hearing your voice and kissing your lips. I have never felt as…happy…and light as I do with you. I want to spend the rest of my life feeling this way. I want to spend the rest of my life ending every night with you and starting every morning with you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. So-”

Matt let out a shaky breath as he slowly dropped his hand from your face and tightly held onto your hand. You were already in tears from Matt’s words before, but the moment he dropped down onto one knee before you, the floodgates opened and a choked sob caught in your throat as your other hand flew up to cover your mouth.

“Y/N Y/L/N, will you marry me?”

“Oh my God, Matty…yes…yes!”

Matt blew out a shaky breath of relief as he closed his eyes for a moment, the tension in his shoulders evaporating right in front of your eyes as he let his head drop. You couldn’t help but laugh as you stared down at him in perplexity.

“Did you think I was going to say no?”

Matt rubbed his hand down his face to wipe away his own tears, letting out another breathless laugh and sniffling as he looked up at you with a goofy grin on his lips.

“Figured I had a fifty-fifty shot.”

Lips splitting into the biggest smile you had ever seen, Matt quickly rose to his feet and grabbed your face, capturing your mouth in a deep kiss as you gripped onto his jacket to hold him close. All of a sudden he quickly pulled away and shoved his hand down into his pocket.

“Oh shit, uh…sorry…I…here.”

Matt laughed nervously as he pulled a small velvet black box out of his pocket, opening it to reveal the ring inside. Your mouth fell open as a gasp escaped, and you gripped onto Matt’s forearm as fresh tears welled in your eyes.

“Matty…”

“Do…do you like it?”

“I…I love it. It’s…it’s perfect. How did you-”

“I had some help.”

Glancing up at Matt through your teary eyes, you watched as a bashful smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Pulling the ring from the box, Matt gently grabbed onto your wrist with a shaky hand, and carefully slipped the ring onto your finger. It fit absolutely perfectly, and you stared down at it in awe as it dazzled beneath the lights. You were overwhelmed with so many emotions, and you didn’t know what to do other than grab Matt’s face and pull him down for a searing kiss.

The two of you gripped onto each other as if you were afraid the other might disappear if you loosened your grasp even the slightest. You were a flurry of lips and teeth, trying to devour the other’s desire, consuming the taste of happiness together. Matt laid you down in the soft grass of the garden floor and made love to you right there, intertwining his hand with yours that wore the symbol of his love and promise to you.

A burst of laughter ripped through your chest at that memory of Matt’s nervousness as you covered your mouth, staring at Foggy knowingly in the reflection of the mirror. Elektra’s mouth split into a huge grin as she rolled her eyes, pressing a quick kiss to your temple and giving Foggy’s shoulder a squeeze on her way to the door.

“Alright, alright. Let me go do damage control. I’ll see you both out there. Oh, and Y/N, darling?”

You turned your head to look over at her as she paused in the doorway.

“Yeah?”

A warm smile tugged at the corners of Elektra’s mouth as she stared over at you, leaning her head briefly against the door.

“You are the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen.”

You pursed your lips slightly as your face twisted up faintly into an expression of gratitude, returning her smile with one of your own.

“Thank you, Ellie.”

Elektra flashed you a quick wink, closing the door behind her to leave you alone with Foggy.

“She’s right, you know. You do look beautiful.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of your mouth as you looked at Foggy in the mirror, arching one of your brows quizzically.

“Did you just agree with her?”

“That stays between us. This is a one time thing.”

Laughing softly, you turned around to pull Foggy into a tight hug, sighing in relaxation as his arms came around you to hold you securely to his chest. There didn’t seem to be anything that a hug from Foggy Nelson couldn’t fix. All of the pent up nerves seemed to dissipate from the warmth of his embrace, and you suddenly felt a million times lighter.

“Thank you.”

“You don’t have anything to thank me for.”

“I have everything to thank you for.”

“Well in that case, I think Foggy would be a great name for your future kid.”

A deep laugh rumbled in his chest as you giggled, pulling back slightly to peer up at him with a grin.

“I’ll put in a good word.”

After Foggy left you alone to go rejoin Matt and the others, you stared at your reflection in the mirror, smoothing your hands over your dress for the millionth time. A part of you was still in disbelief that today was the day you were marrying your best friend. Matt had sworn to not take the second chance you had given him for granted, and had been treating it as if it were sacred. He opened up to you about everything now, even the rough nights that plagued his thoughts, and the horrors he desperately wanted to protect you from. There wasn’t a single thought or emotion he hid anymore, and he’d even gotten better about finding balance between each of his lives. That wasn’t to say that you both didn’t struggle from time to time still, but your relationship was the healthiest it had ever been.

A knock against the door tore you from your thoughts, and a smile quickly spread across your lips at the sight of the figure leaning against the doorway.

“Hey big guy.”

Frank’s mouth split into a grin as he looked at you, giving a slight nod of his head in your direction.

“Hey darlin’.”

Turning away from the mirror to face him fully, you swallowed thickly as you smoothed your trembling hands down the sides of your dress and gestured to it.

“I look okay?”

Frank cocked his head to the side as he smirked, taking you in with his eyes as he took a few steps forward to stand in front of you.

“You kiddin’? You’re gonna knock Red on his ass.”

You didn’t hardly have any family outside of the chosen one you had made with Matt, Foggy, Karen, Elektra, and Frank. When you’d let it slip to him that you would be walking down the aisle alone, Frank instantly offered to be the one to walk you. He confessed that it would probably be the closest he would ever get to walking his own daughter down the aisle, and you graciously accepted without hesitation.

A smirk curled at the corner of your mouth as you let your eyes wander over his large figure, finally meeting his deep brown curious eyes.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so…”

“Dressed up, yeah yeah. Don’t get used to it.”

“I was gonna say not covered in blood.”

Frank let out a deep chuckle as he shook his head slowly, looking down at you with a dazzling grin on his lips.

“Figured I could behave for a few days so I didn’t mess up your pretty dress, yeah?”

“How generous of you.”

As the processional music started to play, the nerves you felt earlier returned full force, and you gripped onto Frank’s arm tightly as the reality of the situation started to sink in. This was actually happening. Matt was waiting for you on the other side of these doors, and in just a few moments, he would finally be your husband. Tears started to form in the corners of your eyes as your emotions started to catch up with you, thinking about everything the two of you had gone through together, and how it had all led up to this moment. Frank’s lips brushed against your cheek as he bent down to whisper into your ear.

“You say the word, and I’ll get you outta here. No questions asked, yeah?”

Gripping a little tighter onto his arm, you leaned into Frank’s embrace as a shaky breath left your lips.

“Where would we go?”

“Wherever you want, darlin’. I could hide you places even he couldn’t find.”

You swore you heard Matt groan loudly on the other side of the door, and you couldn’t help but giggle as you dipped your head back to look up at Frank. Taking a deep breath in, you exhaled slowly through your parted lips and nodded with a soft smile.

“I’m ready.”

Frank gave a slight nod as he leaned in to kiss your forehead, dropping his left eye in a wink as he smiled.

“Attagirl.”

“Frankie?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Don’t let me fall, please.”

Frank wrapped his right arm tightly around your waist, holding onto your hand with his left one as he squeezed it gently.

“Never.”

»»———　　———««

“As absolutely beautiful as you are in this dress, it’s time for it to come off.”

“You don’t wanna leave it on?”

“I’d love to, sweetheart, but it’s kind of in my way. Besides, it’s so pretty, I’d hate to ruin it with all the things I wanna do to you, Mrs. Murdock.”

A soft gasp left your lips as Matt gently sucked on that sensitive spot on your neck below your ear, and you could feel him grin against your skin when your heart skipped. He had taken every opportunity throughout the evening to call you that, or refer to you as his wife. Every time it hit your ears, a buzz of serotonin flooded your bloodstream and left you hazy.

“And what, exactly, is it that you wanna do to me, Mr. Murdock?”

Matt’s fingertips brushed lightly along the exposed skin of your bare back, causing a shudder to course through you while his nimble fingers delicately tugged the zipper of your dress agonizingly slow down your back. His stubble tickled against your cheek as he nuzzled your jaw, inhaling your scent deeply while leaving open mouthed kisses down the column of your neck.

“Fuck a baby into you.”

Gripping tightly onto his suit jacket, you were suddenly taken back to that night over a year ago when he’d first made that promise, and his words from that night flowed through your ears.

I’m gonna marry you someday, Y/N.

I will put a ring on your finger tomorrow.

I will put a baby in you tonight.

A fresh wave of mixed emotions glossed over your eyes, and Matt slowly pulled back to stare blankly down at your face with an expression of concern as he cradled your face in his hand.

“What is it, angel?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing.”

Matt tilted his head to the side slightly as his honey hazel eyes gazed down at you, tongue darting out to quickly wet his lips before they pulled into a timid smile.

“Was it the wedding you always wanted?”

Bringing your own hand up to cup Matt’s jaw, you pulled him in closer to touch your foreheads together as you whispered softly.

“Of course it was, Matty. You were the groom.”

Matt had been continuously asking you the same question all night, wanting to make sure you were absolutely happy with the biggest day of your lives. Honestly, it had been perfect. Karen had taken over as your unofficial wedding planner, and between her, Marci, and Elektra, you’d hardly had to lift a finger. Getting married in a church wasn’t a huge deal for you since you weren’t religious, but you knew how much it meant to Matt, and you offered to marry him in his church where his parents would’ve married. It was small and intimate, exactly what you both wanted.

The second you stepped through the open doors with Frank, Matt immediately started to cry. You were only a second behind him as soon as you saw him, the two of you gripping onto each other’s hands as Father Lantom led the ceremony, bringing everyone in attendance to tears as you exchanged your heartfelt vows. Matt had captured your lips in a deep kiss as soon as Father Lantom uttered his name, and he lightly smacked him over the back of the head with his bible to remind him that he was in church when the kiss started getting a little too heated for the house of God. Maggie had simply laughed, reminding Father Lantom that Matthew was indeed Jack Murdock’s son.

The reception was held at Josie’s where you had first met Matt over two years ago, courtesy of Karen. Foggy had drunkenly climbed onto the bar to deliver his best man speech which only drew further tears out of everyone from laughter by telling the most embarrassing story he could conjure about Matt from college, and also from the passionate gratitude he showered you in for making his best friend the happiest he had ever seen him.

Matt told me once he thought you were an angel created by God himself, and sent down from Heaven just for him, exactly when he needed you. I believe that’s true. There’s no other explanation for how perfect you are for him. Thank you for bringing my brother the happiness he’s always deserved. I love you both.

Karen could hardly contain her own tears as she spoke fondly about you and Matt, bringing even Frank and Jessica to tears with her sweet words.

I knew the night you met Matt that you loved him. I could see it in your eyes. Thank you for loving him the way that you do. I can’t tell you how happy it makes me as your best friend for you to end up with someone like Matt. Because I know he will take care of you, and protect you, and love you with everything he’s got, and I know you’ll do the same for him. I’m just so happy my two favorite people found each other.

“Today was the happiest day of my life. A day I never honestly thought would come, but I’m so happy it did, and I’m so happy it was with you. I wouldn’t change anything about it. I mean…apart from everyone offering to help you runaway, but.”

A loud laugh slipped past your ears at the annoyed look on Matt’s face, countered by the smirk that was threatening to spill across his lips. You gently squeezed his cheeks to purse his lips into a pout, leaning in to kiss them softly.

“You know they were joking.”

“No, Frank and Elektra were serious. They were actually gonna smuggle you out.”

Giggling softly, you shook your head as you leaned in to press your lips against Matt’s softly once more.

“Well I didn’t run, did I?”

Matt let out a deep exhale through his nose, shaking his head slowly as he pressed his forehead against yours.

“No. Still not sure why you didn’t.”

“There was cake.”

Matt rolled his eyes as he pushed himself up above you, and you giggled uncontrollably as you grabbed onto his tie to pull him back down towards you.

“I’m kidding! You know someone has to keep the Devil in line.”

Matt clicked his tongue against his cheek, narrowing his eyes slightly as he cocked his head to the side and stared down at you with a light smirk.

“That the only reason, then? Because you’re the only one that can?”

“I can think of a few more. Now, I thought you were helping me out of this dress?”

“I was.”

“Then be a good husband, Matthew, and help your wife.”

Matt’s eyes darkened considerably at the sultry tone of your voice, and a devilish grin took over his mouth as your beloved dimples settled in his inner cheeks. He was careful as he slipped the silk gown down your body, laying it carefully over the dresser before attacking your body with kisses once again. You frantically clawed at his jacket and dress shirt, blindly making quick work of his belt, already panting just from the idea of having your husband inside of you. There seemed to be a silent understanding between the two of you that neither of you had the patience for foreplay tonight, and all you both wanted in that moment was to be absolutely consumed by one another.

As Matt settled between your spread thighs, a wash of nerves made you shiver, and you found yourself placing your shaky palm on his chest over his heart to get his attention.

“Matty…did you…are we…you really want a baby with me? Right now?”

Matt tilted his head in confusion as he let his eyes blankly wander over you, placing his palm flat on the pillow by your head as he leaned in closer towards you. You and Matt had been talking more seriously about starting a family after you got engaged, and you stopped taking birth control a few months before the wedding to make sure it was fully out of your system for when you two were ready to actually start trying.

“Of course I do. Why? Did you change your mind?”

“No! No no, it’s not that. I just…you aren’t going to miss it? I mean…the city means so much to you, Matty, and-”

“Hey, you mean the most to me. You’re the love of my life, sweetheart.”

You wrapped your fingers around Matt’s wrist as he held your face, nibbling at your bottom lip as you let out a shaky breath.

“I know, baby. I just…I know how much you need that part of yourself-”

“Not anymore. All I need is you. I’m still protecting the city, and the people in it, everyday. I’m still helping people. But New York doesn’t really need Daredevil anymore. It has people to protect it, like Luke and Jessica. And Colleen, Danny, even Frank and Elektra. You need me. And the one thing I care more about protecting and keeping safe is you, and our family.”

“I just don’t want you to wake up one day and regret hanging up the suit, or feel any kind of resentment-”

“Sweetheart, listen to me. I could never regret anything with you. How could I feel even an ounce of resentment when you’re offering to give me the greatest gift in the world that I’ll never be able to repay you for, hm?”

Matt carefully wiped a stray tear away from your eye as you reached up to gently grab onto the back of his neck, pulling him down so that his chest was flush to yours as you whispered softly.

“I just want to make you happy, Matty.”

“You do, angel. Everyday. You are my happiness. Now, can I please make love to my wife?”

Matt took his time as he entered you, peppering kisses on every inch of your body he could find, moving his hips lazily as he fucked into you slowly to ensure you both felt everything. Interlacing your fingers together, he held your hands above your head and squeezed them tightly, repeatedly whispering into your ear how much he loved you, how beautiful and perfect you were for him, and how badly he wanted you to give him a baby. Matt pulled your legs tightly around his waist, angling your hips to reach the most delicious depths within you, spilling his seed into the deepest layer of your garden to plant the foundation for the family you both so desperately wanted together.

Neither of you could get enough, and Matt fucked you sweetly and slowly several more times into the early hours of the night until your bodies simply couldn’t take anymore. He refused to withdraw himself from you, keeping his soft cock nestled within you, preventing any ounce of your future he had emptied into you from slipping out as he wrapped his arms around you from behind. Matt placed his palm over your lower belly, absentmindedly stroking his thumb in slow circles over the first home your child would have.

“I love you so much, angel.”

“I love you so much, Matty.”

Matt was here. Matt loved you. Matt was yours.

tags: @yarrystyleeza @little-miss-dilf-lover @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042 @thychuvaluswife

#matt murdock #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x female reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock fic #matt murdock smut #daredevil #daredevil fic #daredevil smut #frank castle #elektra natchios #foggy nelson #karen page

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suashii · 1 year

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୨♡୧ THE MAN WHO HUNG THE MOON — sakusa kiyoomi x reader. sfw. fluff. dad!sakusa.

the sound of sleepy giggles from down the hall makes a smile tug at the corner of your lips. as you pick up the toys scattered about the living room, you picture the scene; your daughter comfy under her blanket and sakusa squeezed into the toddler bed beside her with a book of her choice in his hands. he’s probably changing his voice with each character just the way she likes, tickling her tummy every time she laughs so that the joyous sound is prolonged. little moments like these, ones that warrant you a glimpse into their daddy-daughter time never fail to make your heart swell.

the noise from the back dies down a few minutes later and the quiet click of a door closing tells you that your husband has finished putting the girl to bed. you’re almost finished cleaning up the toys left behind in the living when sakusa wraps his arms around you from behind, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. he doesn’t give you time to savor the feel of him before he’s gone, leaning down to aid you in tidying up.

you shoot him a petulant look that he can’t see as you reach down to pick up the doll by your feet. you have every intention of tossing it in the bin with the rest of your daughter’s things but before you can, you realize that you don’t recognize it. your eyebrows knit together in confusion as you meet sakusa at the toy bin. “when did you get her this?”

“a few days ago,” he replies upon seeing it. in all honesty, he had meant to put the doll away before you returned home. now that the cat is out of the bag, he might as well be entirely transparent. “and i actually got it for me.”

“like, got it for you so the two of you could play together?” you eye him curiously with your question. you’re sure that’s what he meant but, without context, the statement produces an entertaining image in your head of the man playing with toys even in the absence of your daughter.

“not really,” sakusa admits, and he can see a sparkle of interest swimming in your gaze. the real reasoning behind the purchase is nothing to be embarrassed about but he still hesitates to spit it out. he’d hoped that you would see the result before you could ask about the process.

“sakura told me she likes the way you put her hair in two braids so i bought the doll to practice.” he turns the doll in your hands so that you can see what he’s taken away from the youtube tutorials in the past few days. it’s a lot better than his first attempt but sakusa thinks he could use a few more sessions to hone the skill before surprising sakura with the style.

you survey his work on the synthetic hair. it’s not bad by any means. the braids are a little loose, but you can clearly see all of the effort he’s put in. you glance up to meet his onyx gaze and offer him a smile. “you’re cute. but why didn’t you just ask me? i would have been more than happy to teach you.”

the thought had passed sakusa’s mind when the girl had first told him that she preferred the way you did her hair but he had convinced himself that the task was something he could easily do on his own. it’s not that he feels like he’s above asking for help, though, he does feel like you’re busy enough with work of your own. the last thing he wanted to do was worry you with this—something he should be entirely capable of.

“you already have so much on your plate, i thought i could take care of this on my own.” sakusa takes the doll from your hands and places it with the rest of the toys in the wooden chest before closing it.

it’s hard to believe that this is the same man that expressed doubts about whether or not he’d be a good dad before your daughter arrived. every day since then, he’s proven that his anxieties about being a parent were misplaced. sakura looks at him with stars in her eyes, like he’s the very person that hung the moon—a lot like you’re looking at him now.

you interlace your fingers with his slim ones, giving his hands a comforting squeeze as you boost yourself up on the tips of your toes to press your lips against his in a soft kiss. his breath is minty, likely from brushing his teeth with sakura not too long ago. you pull away with a smile, bumping the tip of your nose against his before returning to your normal height. “she’s going to love when you do her hair.”

thanks for reading! consider commenting or reblogging if you enjoyed ❤︎

#₊˚ପ⊹ signed: haikyuu #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #sakusa fluff #haikyuu fluff #sakusa imagines #haikyuu imagines #sakusa drabble #haikyuu drabbles #sakusa scenarios #haikyuu scenarios

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chloe-skywalker · 7 months

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Give Them A Chance - Robb Stark

Robb x fem!reader Baratheon/Lannister

Warnings: GOT

Word count: 1,362

Summary: Robb and Y/n don’t know that their fathers plan to betroth them. But Ned has a reason for not telling. Will his reason work?

Authors Note: Takes place in like the first episode of season 1 Game Of Thrones. Like right after the whole “You got fat” lines.

Masterlist

Game Of Thrones Masterlist

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Y/n watched the exchange between her father and his friend Ned Stark Warden of the North. It was very odd but she thought it was nice that they were such good friends that they still joked around with each other. She didn’t see her father act so freely like this often. It was a rare welcome sight.

“So I take it this is your oldest.” King Robert sighed looking at the eldest of Ned’s children with a scrutinizing gaze before breaking out into a smile.

“Yes, this is Robb.” Ned introduced his oldest son to his friend.

Robert slapped a hand on the young man’s shoulder, smiling widely. “You're a handsome young lad.”

Robb tried to contain his blushing that he was sure he was doing. “Thank you, your Grace.”

“You should meet my oldest. Y/n!” Robert called over his oldest daughter, but not before sparing a knowing glance to Ned. As Y/n came to stand next to her father, smiling politely at the Stark family before her. “This is my oldest. A year younger than you I believe.”

“Princess.” Robb bowed, before looking at the princess. She had caught his eye when she first entered Winterfell on horse back alongside her uncle. He could not deny she was gorgeous, and he couldn’t believe how fast he had started to fall for her.

“Mi’ Lord.” Y/n curtised, biting her cheek. Thus Robb Stark was by far one of the most handsome men she had ever seen. And she had seen a lot of people growing up in KingsLanding. She wondered if his personality was as nice as his looks.

“Would you like a tour of Winterfell?” Robb asked, offering a way for them to talk and get to know each other a bit. He also was one of the most qualified people to show her around.

“I would love one.” She smiled. Looping her arm through his and the two young adults that in some ways are still kids went off exploring.

While the two went off getting to know each other and everyone else did God knows what, King Robert and Net Stark headed down to the crypts.

“Have you told your son?” Robert asked once they were done talking about Ned’s sister. The King was curious if his friend's son had offered to show his daughter around on his own or out of duty.

“Not yet.” Nod squinted, he didn’t like the idea of taking this choice from his son. But the other part, this was a good alliance, and you don’t deny a king.

“And why not?” Robert had told Ned of the idea to marry their oldest months ago. But to be fair he didn’t tell his daughter either.

“Because I wanted to give them a chance to fall in love before knowing they might be betrothed.” Ned explained his reasonsings, and even though Robert would never admit it he admired Ned’s heart and how he was trying to make this a better situation for their children. It was better than just throwing them together.

“Very well. I didn’t tell my daughter either. She would’ve fought me on coming.” He chuckled. Y/n would’ve tried to fight him or talk him out of it, and it might’ve worked even the slightest. Out of all his children she was the only one that had a somewhat relationship with him.

“They’d be more reluctant if they knew about what we had planned. The two of them being in the dark might lead to them actually gaining feelings for the other.” Ned just hoped that the two would get close and at least see they could make a marriage work. But he was truly hoping that maybe they could fall in love on their own and there wouldn’t be any hard feelings or reluctantness.

^ ^ ^

It had been a few weeks and things seemed to be working out for Y/n and Robb like Ned had hopped. Y/n seemed to fit right into the Stark family. She got along with all his children and they all act as if she’s one of them. Things between Robb and Y/n had taken some people by surprise. The two had been spending almost all their time together. They only separated to sleep it seemed like.

Ned was happy to see they had a lot in common. The two went horseback riding constantly and Y/n seemed to know how to use a bow and a sword no doubt thanks to her uncle. They didn’t even eat apart at meals.

Today Robb and Y/n had gone out riding, once they were far enough away from Winterfell the two dismounted their respective horses walking along next to each other.

“Are you having a good time in Winterfell Princess Y/n?” Robb asked, hoping that the time they’d spent together had been as enjoyable for her as it was for him.

Y/n smiled, nudging him teasingly shoulder to shoulder. “Yes, I am as matter of fact. My favorite part is the company.”

Robb blushed looking down before looking back to her. Robb had no idea why she could so easily make him react like that, but she could and he didn’t mind it. “You flatter me y/n.”

“You’ve been flattering me the whole time I’ve been here. It’s only fair.” Y/n smiled. As they came to the set of trees that they had made their spot over the time she had been in the North.

Robb just stood there watching her for a moment. He never expected to fall in love with her when he first found out the King, Queen, and their children were coming to visit. But he had and he didn’t regret it. “If I may be bold and speak my mind, Princess?”

Y/n nodded, smiling back at him as she turned to face him. She noticed how he wasn’t right next to her and Y/n wondered what had made him stop and if it had to do with what was on his mind. “Go ahead. I won’t stop you.”

“During your time here in Winterfell I have become quite taken with you.” Robb stated walking over to her. He looked in her eye’s trying to notice how his works were being taken.

“And I you.” Y/n blushed, biting her lip at her response back to him admitting his feelings for her. Which she reciprocates.

“I have a proposal for you Princess Y/n Baratheon.” Robb felt an air of convenience hit him at Y/n admitting she feels the same.

Y/n furrowed her brow, it confused her on why he was using her title and first and last name. “Go on Lord Stark.”

Robb took a deep breath, he knew what he wanted he just hoped she wanted it to. “We may not have known each other for very long or very well for the most part. But I would like for us to get to know each other better over time. If you’d like that of course.”

“I would.” Y/n nodded liking where he was going with this so far.

“Would you also like it if we could become husband and wife, Lord and Lady.” Robb stepped right up to her, reaching out to intertwine their hands. Looking into her eye’s Robb reached up with one hand leaving the other one still in hers, he cupped the side of her face, “Would you do me the great honor and become my wife? For all my days till the end of my days?”

Y/n reached up with her free hand and cupped the back of his neck, while squeezing his hand holding hers. Looking up into his eyes with what could only be happiness and adoration Y/n answered. “I would love to.”

In her short time visiting the North Y/n had really connected with the Starks and of course Robb the most. Yes, she’d miss her siblings (minus Joffrey) and she'd miss her uncles but this felt like the better place for her. And as long as she has Robb, Y/n will always be happy.

Taglist; @gruffle1 @padawancat97 @misspendragonsworld

@starkleila

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girlgenius1111 · 13 days

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I miss sol can we get some headcanonsss 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻 with or without future ms Fresa 😌

any chance to talk about my solstråle 🥰

-school is very much not her thing. not because she isn't smart. she's really smart. she just hates sitting still and being inside all day, and she's never been very motivated to try very hard in school. so when she arrives in spain and ingrid like sits down to help her with her homework because she's heard that sol has heinous grades, sol can do all of it. she doesn't need help. and ingrid is absolutely baffled because... why wouldn't she do it if she could? but sol's thinking is... why would she do it if she didn't want to.

-in one of the family line chapters, its mentioned that sol broke her arm as a kid, and her mom didn't believe her that something was actually wrong. it didn't heal right and now it hurts when the weather changes, and if she moves her wrist in the wrong way. she'll never know if it's because she didn't get it into a cast right away or not, but it is always a very physical, painful reminder of her childhood.

-sol was a really anxious kid. it was a lot for her parents to deal with, and sol thinks that this is part of the reason they treated her like they did. they had to go through so much with her when she was young with her anxiety that they were just... done parenting by the time she got older. her parents really weren't even very helpful with her anxiety either. it was always ingrid who could calm her down or talk her into doing things she was reluctant to do.

-she was a really good softball player when she was younger. it was always pushed to the side for ingrid's football, and the team she was on wasn't a very supportive place. her anxiety got really bad at this time, especially before games and tournaments, and she decided to quit the sport all together, because she couldn't deal with it anymore.

-once ingrid moved out, sol would wear her old clothes around the house, and try to act just like ingrid, because she thought it would make her more tolerable to her parents.

-sol loves her sister very much, but Mapi is her biggest role model. it won't ever not amaze and surprise her how easily Mapi took her in an loved her. her biggest wish for her life is to be as loving and kind as Mapi is.

-sol can play the piano. she learned as a kid and it's always kind of stuck around. she can just sit down and play some pieces from memory. she has a really nice singing voice too, but ingrid and mapi only know because they can hear her in the shower. she'll sing for fresa if she asks nicely, though.

-she has a HUGE sweet tooth. she has 'emergency chocolate' in the glovebox of ingrid's car that fresa finds one day. fresa: ?? what is this?? sol: emergency chocolate 🙂 fresa:... in what kind of emergency do you need chocolate. sol: all of them??

-sol likes to prank ingrid by telling her that she's pregnant at least once a month. ingrid always believes it even though sol has literally never dated a man in her life.

-ingrid refuses to change her number from 23 for the rest of her career. it wasn't really her favorite or first choice before, but it's sol's tattoo now, and she will NEVER change it. she'd almost rather retire.

#🍓☀️

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depravitycentral · 5 months

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Daichi Sawamura Yandere NSFW Profile

Yandere! Daichi Sawamura x fem! reader

TW: dub/noncon, kidnapping, masturbation, voyeurism, groping, cum eating (literally and in a kinky way), Daichi is icky and you should never eat any food he provides for you, roleplaying, begging, breeding, Daddy kink, mentions of pregnancy, brief mentions of lactation kink, mild undertones of misogyny, obviously this is post-timeskip Daichi, fem reader, MDNI

WC: 10.0K

HABITS:

Before you walked into Daichi’s life, he wasn’t an avid fan of touching himself. He had no problems with sex – it was normal, natural, and he was most certainly no stranger to the incessant pull of hormones, to the intensity of late night bouts of horniness.

And yet, he’d never really been one to get himself off obsessively, to wrap his fingers around his aching cock and jerk away until a stuttered grunt and sharp exhale of breath tumble past his lips as ropes of white splatter against his chest every night.

Sure, he had stress from his everyday life; stress from his job, his friends, his parents, everything – and he’ll admit that his hand, some lube, and a rather explicit video certainly helped make the stress go away, if only for a bit. He wasn’t necessarily unpopular with women before meeting you, but he’d never really held much of an admiration towards any particular girl for any longer than a week or two, anything deeper than a fleeting attraction that eventually died down and turned to something more platonic.

His feelings are guarded, and it most certainly did not feel right to be fucking his fist to the thought of some girl who he’d never spoken more than fifty words to. Past girlfriends have helped curb his libido a bit, offering him a better alternative than his hand, but Daichi has never felt that enthralled by touching himself and others.

However, once you step into his world, suddenly Daichi’s entire outlook on sex and masturbation changes drastically. He prides himself on being a man of restraint, of respecting the boundaries of others, but where you’re concerned?

Well, is it respectful of him to be daydreaming about bouncing you up and down on his cock, hearing you cry out his name and watching your pretty tits bounce along with you?

Is it disrespectful to think of the way your ass would jiggle as he spanks you, how your voice would sound so airy and breathless when you call out five – oh! Five, Daddy!

Is it crude of him to imagine the way you’d choke and gag as you pull off of his cock, a string of saliva connected to your puffy lips to his swollen tip, cum smeared all along your cheeks as you beg him to let you give him just one more, wanna make you feel good one more time, please!

He’s normally not especially sexually driven, but it’s almost like a switch gets flipped once Daichi realizes how fucking in love he is with you – mind, soul and, of course, body.Lonely nights spent thinking of you and your perfect figure that Daichi desperately wants to touch become more and more frequent, more and more urgent because when he’s laying underneath his covers, his body growing hot as he thinks about what could be hiding under your clothes, how can he not vividly begin imagining the gentle curve of your ass, the plush of your thighs and the wonderful, sweet treat laying between them?

How can he not fantasize about tasting your slick, dipping his tongue between your folds and feeling your fingers tug at his hair while your pretty whines fill his ears?

Because of his stance on getting busy with himself being a time for imagination of someone, Daichi is actually quite touch starved, and once he has his hand wrapped around his achingly hard cock with you in mind for the first time, he starts to question why he didn’t start doing this much sooner.

When it comes to touching himself, he has a pretty set in stone method for how to best get himself off, for how to make the experience the best that he can.

(Everything he can do to himself is subpar in comparison to you, though – just the thought of what your soft fingers could do, your warm mouth, your soaking pussy, your bouncy tits, your pert little asshole is enough to get him groaning and wishing you were with him.)

Daichi has a pattern established on how he touches himself, and he rarely strays from it. It works very well, and it allows his mind to run wild with fantasies of you. Daichi is a dom through and through, and every fantasy he harbors between the two of you (and there are many to choose from) involves him in the more dominant position - him above you, thrusting into you as deeply and sensually as he can, whispering in your ear how good you are for taking his cock so well.

Him sitting up in bed, your legs straddled around him and your fingers splayed over his chest while he moves you up and down, growling out your name and sucking hickies into your neck, occasionally coming up to smack and grab at your ass. He’ll even grab you firmly and thrust up into you from time to time, the abrupt change of pace and force making you cry out and collapse forward, pressing your chest into his face while he sucks at a nipple and growls under his breath.

His obsession with caring and watching over you that plagues his everyday interactions with you translates into the bedroom too - every sexual urge and desire he has about you is really about taking care of you and your needs. He’s the ultimate pleaser, in all honesty, though he does his fair share of teasing at times.

Of course though, he has a few selfish fantasies (namely, he’d love for you to give him head, to be on your knees, sucking and drooling all over his cock while he runs his fingers through your hair, grunting out praise for you and thrusting into that tight throat of yours) that he indulges in once in a while, but generally when he’s alone with just his fist as a poor stand in for your warm, tight, dripping cunt, he focuses on mainly the idea of pleasing and fucking you.

And while he doesn’t ever want to admit it, Daichi has a bit of a dirty secret when it comes to how he masturbates – he’s very much the standard fist fucker, jerking himself off until he’s nearly numb, until he’s panting and his cock is left bright red and swollen, aching for more but too sensitive to endure anything else.

He doesn’t do anything too risqué when he’s jerking his wrist up and down, flicking it slightly as he nears the tip and occasionally letting his thumb glide over his slit, making his hips jerk. He’s not too crazy in that regard, but the small glass jar he pulls out from under his bed and sets on his bedside table is anything but normal. Its half filled with white, sticky semi-liquid, a light film covering the entirety of the jar, looking sinister and kept safe and out of harm’s way so as not to spill a single drop.

When he’s in the mood, his cock already flushed and desperate for contact (which is after nearly every interaction with you, no matter how small or innocent), he’ll just gulp and bite his lip, retreating away to his bedroom with excitement building in his gut. He’ll start by locking the door and dimming the lights, before heading over to his bed and stripping down to nothing.

He’ll twist the lid of the jar off, the potent smell enveloping his senses and leaving him to wonder how you’d react to the aroma, whether you’d be flustered and shyly look away, or whether you’d grab the jar and bring it up to your nose, deeply inhaling and letting your eyes roll to the back of your head, moaning something about how he smells so good, how you want to taste him, how you need him.

Setting the jar back on the table, he’ll sit on his mattress so that he’s leaning back on his knees, his entire chest upright and exposed as his cock slaps up against the skin of his lower stomach, red and drooling precum and absolutely begging for attention.

He’ll run a hand along his chest, scratching lightly at the hard muscles and reaching down to his dark pubic hair, a low groan escaping his throat as he closes his eyes and imagines it’s your wandering hands, so much smaller and softer than his own.

He’ll imagine you laying down before him, spread out and looking so welcoming and ravishing, your hair all wild and your eyes wide with desire, lips already swollen from kissing and dark marks sucked into your neck claiming you as his his his. His cock bobs at just the thought, a thick glob of precum oozing from the tip.

He’ll start slowly, ghosting a hand over his raging erection, feeling how he twitches slightly at the airy contact. He runs his fingertips over the prominent vein on his left side, feeling the way it stands out against the smooth skin of his length, the touch making his toes curl and his thighs twitch.

Sometimes he’ll imagine your soft, perfect lips wrapped around his length, sucking and swirling your tongue around his sensitive head while his fingers are buried in your hair.

Other times, he’ll imagine you under him, looking up at him with those wonderful eyes clouded in lust and ecstasy as he absolutely destroys that precious little pussy of yours, pounding into you so hard that you’re fisting the sheets and crying out for dear life because fuck he’s hitting so deep, and you’re going to come much too soon.

The only sound filling the room while his fist works at his length is the dull thump of his pelvis, along with ragged breathes and little growls of your name and fuck yes, good girl, god just like that, fuck baby how’re you so damn tight mixed with incoherent little gasps of mine as he nears his high.

His pace starts to speed up too as he gets closer and closer to his release, grunts escaping him while he chants your name under his breath, until eventually his hips are bucking over and over into the air, desperate to be thrusting as deeply inside you as possible, and his orgasm tears through him with a low, throaty grunt.

Quickly he’s scrambling to grab onto the jar, knocking things over in his haste as he groans loudly, chanting your name and going on about how you’re so good, so fucking good, fuck wanna – wanna fuck you so bad – take it take it take it – !

His eyes squeeze shut as thick ropes of cum shoot from his red, engorged tip and directly into the open jar, the spurts blending in with the other older, thicker loads stored in the container, and he’ll lowly growl your name, imagining praising you for taking his cock so well and how you’re such a good girl for taking every last drop of his cum while he empties his balls inside the container, keeping his hand lightly pumping to make sure he gets every last drop out. He’ll even grip the base and shake himself a bit to make sure everything he has to offer comes out, drooling from the swollen slit and dripping in big fat drops into the jar.

It takes him a few minutes to recover, and once he does, he’ll smile crookedly down at the glass, bringing it up to nis nose to lightly sniff, the image of your face when you bite into the little snacks he makes you flashing through his mind.

You’re so cute when you’re munching on the little mini bite sized sandwiches he brings you every week during your lunch break, your adorably clueless self never wondering why there seems to be so much mayonnaise, why there’s always a slightly bitter, salty undertaste.

But Daichi doesn’t mind – it’s worth it to see you lick your fingers clean, his mouth going dry at the thought of you licking his cock clean in the same manner, and as he shuts the jar lid and carefully places it back under his bed, knowing he’ll likely have it filled the other half way by the weekend with the sheer amount of cum he produces and the frequency with which he collects it.

And as he leans back against his pillows, he’ll be more lonely than ever, because all he wants in that moment is your warm, beautiful body to be there with him, cuddling into his naked chest and telling him how much you love him.

All he wants is your soft, sticky body clutching onto his, your face nuzzling into his chest and the mixture of his cum and your slick dripping down your thighs and onto him to lull him to sleep. You’re so perfect, and as Daichi slips into a land of dreams filled with your face, he can only hope the day soon comes when his imagination becomes reality.

FAVORITE BODY PART:

Your thighs

He can’t quite explain it, but there’s just something about the expanse of your thighs that gets him gulping, having to adjust both the collar of his shirt and the waistband of his trousers. Size is completely irrelevant to him; you could have the leanest thighs with hardly any fat, the most muscular legs he’s ever seen, or a lovely plush to them that jiggles with your every move, and he’d still be completely, whole-heartedly in love.

There’s just something about the smooth expanses of skin that really get Daichi hot under the collar - maybe it’s the fact that they look so soft and squishy, like he could just reach out and grab a handful, get you flustered and squeaking in surprise as he massages the soft flesh under his palm.

Maybe it’s the way they splay out when you sit down, looking perfect, so fucking tempting, like they could suffocate him so easily and fuck, now he’s hard and staring at your thighs from across the room and god, where’s the nearest bathroom with fairly soundproof walls?

Or maybe it’s because he just knows that there’s a wonderful, sweet surprise waiting in the middle of them, ready for him to love and touch and taste and god, he’s never wanted to fuck something so bad, never wanted to shove his cock into something so much, to fill to fucking brim with his cum and make a completely fucking mess of something as badly as he does your luscious fucking thighs –

Regardless, he’s completely in love with the supple flesh; he wants nothing more than to run his hands up and down them, take a handful and squeeze, nibble until a nice, possessive hickey taints the delicate skin. He wants to touch you so badly, to get the opportunity to love and worship every inch of the supple flesh, to show you just how beautiful you are, how much he loves and appreciates your body.

Each time the thought of them flashes through his mind (something that happens very frequently), he’s practically drooling, his mouth watering and saliva pooling up in his cheeks at just the thought of getting to touch them, of getting to knead your soft skin and hear the way you sigh out in pleasure, of sucking dark hickeys into the delicate skin of your inner thighs, of getting to push them together and fuck the space between them.

It’s honestly pretty bad how quickly and easily your thighs can arouse him - when he sees you wearing anything shorter than full length pants, he has to will his eyes away for fear that he’ll grow hard right then and there, his face flushing red and his throat growing dry.

It’s all too easy to imagine those thighs hooked up over his shoulders, bending your body in half while he pounds into you again and again and again until you’re incoherently crying out, fingernails scratching down his back while he hisses and grunts and pounds into you deeply enough to imprint the shape of his cock onto every part of you.

And once he’s stolen you away, Daichi’s obsession really begins to show – constantly touching you, always groping you and resting a hand against them (preferably between them when you cuddle or watch TV, because the heat alone is enough to have his eyes fluttering closed, a sharp inhale sounding while he shifts around below you) always eyeing them from the corner of his gaze, always forcing you to throw a leg over him when he’s cuddling you in the much too large bed Daichi bought for the two of you.

(He’d purposefully bought such a large size, if only because he wants to have all the room in the world to spread you out as he sees fit, to get you open and exposed and vulnerable to his probing stare, his wandering fingers, his eager mouth.)

If he could, he’d have a hand on your thigh at all times of the day, regardless of who you’re with, where you are and what you’re doing - he just can’t control himself.

His chest

While he isn’t overly buff, he’s put in his fair share of physical care and generally keeps himself in pretty good shape not only for his job, but for his own health as well.

He most definitely has muscle, and his upper body is actually quite defined – pectorals that physically stand out, a pair of pebbled, sensitive nipples, planes of light abs that flex and harden under your curious fingertips. He works hard during required workout sessions for the force, and although he isn’t the most purely athletic on the force, he does regularly visit the gym and lift.

And once you walk into his life, suddenly Daichi has someone to impress, someone to imagine gushing over his muscles and trailing their fingers over him in awe. And really, you’re by far the best motivation he could ever ask for; he wants you to be impressed, to be in awe at his body and the muscles lining his form, if only to prove that he can provide for you, that he can protect you and take care of you like he should, like you deserve.

And that’s what running through his mind as he pushes the bench press above his head, as he grits his teeth and pushes himself just a bit further, just a bit harder, because imagining the look of awe and attraction in your eyes the first time he’s shirtless around you is enough to have him eagerly upping his regiments, wanting to resemble to cover models for the men’s activewear magazines he sees around.

He has a lot of fantasies that involve his chest where you’re concerned – he wants you pressed up against him, your warm, soft and supple body flush against the hard lines of muscle.

He wants to feel your breasts pushed up against him, feel your hard nipples against his own, the swell of them against him as he pulls you closer, kisses you, hands grabbing fistfuls of your ass while he groans into your mouth.

He wants to hover above you and absolutely destroy that cute little pussy of yours, to leave you sobbing and writhing around below him in pleasure with your hands firmly pushing against his chest, arms too weak to even remotely put up a fight as he just keeps going, as his cock drives into you again and again and again.

The ideas make his head spin, his throat feel dry with want and his fingers idly clenching into fists, the desperation to have your admiration and awe pointed at him so potent that it’s nearly painful.

And once you’re trapped in his home, Daichi tries to speed up the inevitable by simply forgoing any type of shirt in the presence of you – his muscles are on display, abs tightening and flexing when he reaches up to get something off the top shelf, clenching his core tightly when he forces you to sit on his lap while he feeds you dinner.

Having a strong, masculine chest only furthers his idea of him being your strong, brave protector in his mind, and you being his sweet little darling, the one who is so delicate and in such desperate need of saving.

Daichi is proud of his physique, and while he tries not to let it show, the first time he’s half naked around you the desperation to get your approval is practically palpable – so really, just run your hand from nipple to nipple, trace the hard lines of his abs, the deep v right above the hem of his pants, and whisper a sultry voice, you’re so handsome, Daddy, and Daichi will nearly come right then and there.

He just wants your approval, so badly that it nearly suffocates him.

DRIVE:

Before meeting you, his sex drive was low – occasionally getting himself off, though often finding himself too busy to really indulge in even a quick session with his wrist tugging and jerking on him while he grunts and groans.

It just wasn’t important to him, something that he didn’t have the time, energy or interest in investing in. He didn’t have anyone to think of or imagine, and while there were plenty of pretty women he got along with, he could never manage to form developed enough feelings to get to the stage of wanting to be with most of them in that way, of wanting to see them naked and touch them.

However, this does a complete 180 when his obsession with you forms - suddenly he’s wrapped up with all of these lewd ideas of you, all of these fantasies that make his face turn red and his entire body feel like it’s on fire.

Frequent wet dreams that leave him washing his sheets three or four times a week have him focusing on hazy imagery of you reaching down to spread the lips of your cunt for him, letting him see the shining wetness inside, the clenching hole he so desperately wants to fuck, the slick he wants to lap up every drop of.

Ideas of you on your knees, looking up at him through teary eyelashes while you gag and choke against his cock have him groaning and steadying himself against the wall, his knees quite literally going weak at the mere thought of you.

He’s horny for you at all times, and nothing can sate his desire for you and your body until you’re there in front of him, naked and getting your brains fucked out by your beloved. Getting himself off makes it more manageable, but he isn’t truly happy until his thick, aching cock is buried as deeply inside you as possible, where it truly belongs.

He wants to fuck you all the time, and with every innocent expression you give him when he’s with you and every time he sees that fucking skirt you love ride up just a tad, it gets harder and harder to deny himself of his urges.

With every little sound you make as you work on your work assignments, as you stand stirring something over the stove or settle into bed, the urge to pin you down and claim you as utterly and completely his (via stuffing you full of his cum and leaving so many hickeys on your neck that you’ll look like you were attacked by a wild animal, of course) becomes more intense. It becomes more difficult to hold back as his fingers dig into his palm, his eyes squeezed shut in concentration as he tries not to think about the way you’d sound begging for his cock, how you’d plea and cry out for him to fill me up, please please Daddy! I’ve been so good, want your cock, wanna be fucked stupid, please!

Daichi is a bit of a demon in waiting, and once you’re in his grasp, he’s throwing the idea of holding himself back out the window, because fuck it all if you don’t look like the sexiest thing he’s ever seen all dolled up in his t-shirt and the lacy pair of crotchless panties he’d forced you into that morning.

You’re gorgeous, and because of you his libido spikes to the point of him feeling overwhelmed by every little thing you do – but surely, you must want him just as badly as he needs you, right?

However, Daichi will not force anything sexual on you. He wants it to be consensual, for the both of you to enjoy it, and he can’t enjoy himself if you’re in tears and begging him to stop.

(Unless you’re begging because he’s made you come so many times that you can’t even think, something that crosses his mind often late at night, when there’s a flush high on his cheeks, his fist moving so quickly that he can’t hope to stop himself, not when the orgasm he’s so desperate for – that he pretends you’re desperate for - is so fucking close -)

His morals where you’re concerned are fairly skewed, but even Daichi, in his state of absolute obsession with you, knows that sex absolutely needs to be consensual, regardless of the fact that he could die happy if you’d just move those panties to the side and give him five minutes to do whatever he desires, five minutes of pure, unadulterated pleasure that could give him enough material in the spank bank for the rest of his lifetime.

So, he steals himself and tries to ignore it the best he can, but sometimes it gets to be too much, the yearning and desire at such a level that Daichi is helpless in the face of how his cock throbs, aching and practically begging him to get release, to bury himself as deeply inside your tight little pussy as he possibly can.

And anything can trigger this intense reaction, really – seeing you bite your lip while you contemplate whether it’s worth cuddling with him to get the warmth that the blanket he’s using has to give you is enough to have Daichi groaning, a rather noticeable bulge in the blanket right over his crotch making the decision for you.

When you idly hum a tune to a song you love, immediately Daichi’s wondering whether you’d like him to fuck you to that song, to let your cries and moans blend in with the singer’s voice, his own groans and grunts matching the bass perfectly.

He really doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but the pure lust you inspire within him, the desperate desire that your mere presence ignites in his heart isn’t always easy to ignore - he gets desperate, his body telling him to drop everything and come, and sometimes he can’t even make it to the bathroom.

Which leads to him jerking it right in front of you, his trousers zipped down to expose the thick, tan length as his hand mercilessly pumps up and down, up and down, again and again. It obviously makes you uncomfortable (because it always, always happens when you’re in the same room, when you were just doing something that gave him such intense mental imagery that he just couldn’t hold back the lust), but Daichi can’t bring himself to care.

He’ll shamelessly be grunting your name, not scared to praise fantasy-you while you stand a few feet away from him and watch with wide eyes as he steadily yanks at his intimidatingly thick member.

His eyes go from squeezing shut tightly and peeling open to stare you directly in the eye as he groans out fuuuck, shit baby so fucking tight – hngh, gonna – gonna make you come for Daddy, fuck, his fist squeezing his cock in an effort to mimic the way your own walls would milk him dry.

He comes faster knowing you’re watching, knowing that the presence he so desperately longs for is right next to him, that your soft skin and pretty lips are right fucking there, perfectly visible for his eyes and imagination to run wild.

He’ll grip himself tighter and tighter, telling you that you’re so damn tight baby, oh f-fuck, clenchin’ me too damn much while his head falls back, his eyes squeezed shut and his brows furrowed as the pleasure mounts and mounts and grows, everything feeling hot and heavy and ready to absolutely burst –

His cum is suddenly landing in long, thin white stripes across his chest as he heaves, his eyes fluttering open to stare at you as the last few spurts land against his tan skin, his fingers – trembling ever so slightly – give himself a few good shakes, just to make sure he gets absolutely everything out. And all the while he’ll just grin, the sight almost boyish as a breathless chuckle tumbles past his lips.

He wishes that could’ve been inside of you, that he could’ve stuffed your sweet little pussy full of his cum until you were begging for more, but he notices the way your thighs clench together, how your face is flushed from embarrassment but also arousal, and it makes him fucking smug.

He knows it’s only a matter of time until you cave and beg him to touch you, and Daichi can’t wait for that day. You better know what you’re getting yourself into because once he’s done with you your throat will be raw from screaming and you won’t be able to walk for a few days.

MAIN THREE KINKS:

Praise

During sex, Daichi is quite vocal – there’s a lot of noises, mostly grunts and groans, along with the occasional growl.

He’s cursing under his breath when you tighten up, the sensation of your walls clenching down at his length making his breath come out in harsh pants. when you let out a particularly sexy moan that goes directly to his cock, he’s gasping sharply and muttering your name, his words slurred slightly as he tries to veer himself away from his impeding orgasm.

He’s incoherent as he tips over the edge, ropes of cum staining your tummy, pussy, tits, face, anything and everything – his words don’t make sense (tangled moans of so good and ‘m coming and take it please please please -).

It’s never quiet in the bedroom with him between his words and the sounds of his balls clapping against your ass and chin, the lewd squelching noises ringing in his ears while he fucks you hard enough to see stars.

There’s all kinds of noise, and there’s almost always a constant stream of commentary coming from him as well. He can’t help himself; the sight of you below him, writhing in pleasure as he thrusts into you and rubs quick, tight circles along your clit is just too much for him to not say anything about.

You’re just so fucking cute when he’s got you split open on his cock, your breasts bouncing in every direction as his hips snap into yours so harshly you’re sure you’ll break, that he’ll tear you in two.

He is quite the dirty talker, and while most of it is short and possessive mutters of mine, Daichi isn’t afraid to express just what you’re making him feel. He’s grunting out that you’re mine, babygirl, this pussy fucking belongs to me as he sinks in inch by inch, slowly filling you and making your eyes squeeze shut as he just keeps going, his length never seeming to end even as his tip nudges against parts of you that you didn’t know existed.

He’s burying his face into your neck as he bends your knees against your heaving chest, the angle letting him hit deeper and harder, your walls milking him for every last drop of cum as he groans lowly that he’s gonna make you come, wanna make you squirt, fuck want you to make a mess for me, let go baby.

He’s running his hand through your hair and tilting his head back with closed eyes as his hips jerk up lightly, thrusting without his control as he nearly whines out about how that’s it, oh fuck baby, look so pretty sucking my cock, like you were made to choke on me ngh –

It really gets him off to see you respond to his words; when you clench around him as he’s telling you how good you’re being for him, how you’re such a good girl for Daddy, it only makes him want to go harder, deeper and faster until you’re spasming around his cock and milking him for absolutely everything he’s worth.

When he tells you that he’s so proud of you while you drool and gag all over his cock, Daichi loves to see your eyes light up, the way your thighs rub together as you move to suckle at his balls, your hand taking over and spreading his precum mixed with your saliva all over his twitching length.

When you make that fucking adorable little gasp as he tells you how he’ll never get pussy this good from anyone else, his heart melts and his desire to see you come undone because of him skyrockets.

He’ll call you his baby girl, tell you how good that pretty little mouth feels wrapped around his cock, or how tight your precious cunt feels around him as he ruts into you.

He’ll rant and rave about how good it feels when you come on his cock, your walls spasming and massaging at his length, triggering his own orgasm that fills you up with white until it’s leaking down the sides, spilling out of your messy little hole because it’s all just too much.

It’s always positive praise; he’s not a fan of degrading you, if only because he genuinely views you as perfection, as someone who deserves to be loved and cared for, not ridiculed and humiliated. It’s designed to subtly show how dominant he is (as if the bruising pace of his hips and the sheer power behind his fingers gripping onto your waist weren’t enough) and to show you how much he’s enjoying whatever it is that he’s doing to you.

Sex with him is never quiet; between your moans and his grunts and hissed words, and of course the slapping of skin against skin and the squelching of his cock stirring up your insides, the bedroom (or kitchen, or shower, or wherever else the two of you find yourself getting down and dirty) will be filled with the passionate sounds of your lovemaking.

And of course, the unmistakable sound of Daichi cursing and calling you his good little girl, his little angel.

Daddy kink

Daichi is dominant in bed. There’s very little chance of you ever convincing him to let you take control between the sheets, and while he may briefly entertain the notion as he lets you push him onto his back and climb on top of him, your moment of power won’t last long.

Soon, he’ll have his hands on your hips, a small smile on his flushed face as he guides your pelvis to grind against his own, dirty words falling from his lips as he commands you to touch your clit for me, wanna see you all gooey and wet for me.

In the bedroom he wants full control, to be the one calling the shots and deciding what goes on, how you get off and whether or not you’re being a good enough little girl to even get touched.

He wants to be the one deciding whether you come from his fingers or tongue – he’ll murmur into the skin of your thighs as he plants kisses leading from your knee to your folds that you’d better behave, wanna see you come on my cock tonight, not my tongue.

He wants to be one to control how many times you orgasm in a single night – he’s warning you that he wants at least four babygirl, and I want them loud; tell me you’re feeling good, and Daddy will keep letting you get there, okay?

It stems from his compulsive, obsessive need to protect you and care for you. He sees himself as your protector, your caregiver, and in order to fully care for you, he needs to make sure you’re getting what you need from sex. He honestly feels like he knows what’s best for you, that his decisions are really the correct ones, even if you don’t see the truth in them now.

He knows that the solution to your homesickness is to fuck you stupid on his cock. He knows that when you’re getting mouthy with him, shoving his girth into your throat until you’re gagging and tears prick the corner of your eyes is the only way you’ll learn some respect. He knows that when you’ve had a long day alone while he works on the force, you need a reminder of how much you mean to him, and what better way to show that than spend hours between your legs, your slick smeared from his chin to his cheeks?

He genuinely believes that he has your best interest at heart every moment, and when you’re such a crying, babbling mess as he impales you on his cock over and over, obviously you can’t make any decisions, let alone speak a coherent sentence, so it must be his responsibility then. You’re just too cockdrunk to know what you really need – so Daichi knows for you.

As a result, there is absolutely no chance that you’ll ever dominate him, no matter how badly you want to - he takes care of you outside and inside the bedroom, and he isn’t relinquishing control no matter how hard you beg.

Even if you get down on your knees and grasp at his pantleg, pleading with him to please let me peg you, please? I’ve been such a good girl lately, I’ll do anything you want if you’ll just let me!, he’s still not budging, just sighing and telling you to quite being such a brat.

Even if you perch yourself naked on his thigh, desperately rubbing your cunt against the knee of his pants, smearing your pretty slick all over the material, Daichi won’t let you tie him up and use him how you please, even though he’s hard as hell. He’s fairly lenient on a lot of other aspects of your captivity with him, but the second you ask if you can top him, if you can call the shots, Daichi can’t help but laugh because do you really think you could do it by yourself?

Do you really think you have the ability to control a man as strong and large as him? Don’t make him laugh.

He wants to showcase his dominance over you in every single way he possibly can when you’re both naked and sweating, and though he does a lot of this through raw physical maneuvering (grasping your hips and controlling the pace when you ride him, pushing your knees up to your ears when he folds you into a mating press, leaning forward so that his entire chest is flush with your back as he ruts into you from behind like a dog in heat) it doesn’t just stop there; you are required to call him Daddy in bed, regardless of whether you want to or not.

Something about the power that comes with it goes to his head; the complete and utter trust that you have in him in order to give yourself over to him like that, to hear you refer to him as such a power figure.

It makes him dizzy with pride, arousal and adoration, and he’s honestly in heaven each and every time you gasp out the name. When he slurps against your folds, tongue eagerly working at your clit, his eyes roll to the back of his skull when you grasp at the pillow under your head and whine out a Daddy, mm, oh just like that, please don’t stop!

When you moan it out while he sends a sharp slap to your ass as he pounds into you from behind, his thrusts only get harder, more aggressive, surely strong enough that you’ll have two large bruises on your ass the next day from where his hips smacked against your skin over and over.

Every time you whimper it as he doesn’t stop his ministrations against your engorged clit even after you’ve reached your high and told him you’re too sensitive, that you can’t Daddy, oh please it’s too much, he just growls and keeps going, the power going to his head because he knows you need one fucking more.

He loves the nickname so much, in fact, that he’ll start requesting you to refer to him as that outside of the bedroom as well – when you’re tired, he’ll only let you go to sleep if you ask him in a sweet voice whether he’ll tuck me in, please Daddy? You do it just how I like it.

To him this is, of course, code for you asking him to fuck the absolute shit out of you without actually having to say it, and most of the time it works – Daichi’s libido is extremely high when it comes to you.

But on the nights where he won’t give in until you swallow your pride and push your arms together in your front, squeezing your breasts together so that the outline of your nipples show while you whisper out a please Daddy, can’t sleep without your cum in my tummy, his pupils dilate and he gulps, quickly ushering you off the bedroom when you know you’ll spend the next two hours with your face buried into the mattress and your ass high in the air while he gropes your tits and fucks you like a man possessed.

He wants to give you the love and pleasure that you deserve, so just let your Daddy take care of you.

Roleplaying

While Daichi could never, ever get bored of fucking you, he likes to mix things up in the bedroom occasionally. His hard and fast rule of always being the one in charge never changes much, but he’s a proponent of roleplaying when the both of you are getting intimate.

Perhaps it’s the product of years of relatively secretly watching porn, or perhaps it’s all those horrible ‘sexy’ costumes he’s seen during Halloween. He’s not sure, but regardless, he’s very, very interested in playing out some common sexual tropes with you.

Of course, he’s more than willing to play the police officer that catches you in the midst of a very minor crime – a speeding ticket, where you’ve got to do him a favor to get out of the cost.

(Generally, a very, very messy, drooly blowjob does the trick; he wants spit dribbling down your chin and down his length, his balls coated in a sheen of it while you gag and choke, his groans of I suppose I can let you go this once making relief sink to your guts.)

His favorite cop fantasy is finding you committing public indecency – you’ll make up some cover story of how you lost your shirt and bra at a friend’s house and now you’re in the middle of the park, the world subject to seeing your pretty tits and tummy. Daichi will pretend to scold you, chiding you for being so reckless, but it’s hard to take him seriously when those brown eyes are staring at your chest the whole time, fixating on how they jiggle with every step you take, just practically begging to be touched and groped.

(He’ll tell you that he has to take you back to the station – the bedroom – and teach you some common decency; ironic, considering more clothes come off than on when this happens, but your face will be buried in the pillows as he pounds against your ass so hard you’re seeing stars and tearing up, so you can’t focus on that too much.)

He enjoys other roleplay dynamics as well; anything with a clear power imbalance.

He’ll be the CEO of an important company and you his sweet little assistant, delivering paperwork and reminding him about that big meeting he’s got later in the day.

(Soon your skirt shortly flipped up over your ass as he pounds you against his desk, the wood creaking with every thrust as he relieves the pent up stress he’s feeling because this is a very important business meeting he’s got.)

He’ll play your patient and you his nurse who’s oh so willing to do anything her patient needs to get healthy again, even if the doctor’s prescribed cure is as many orgasms as possible.

(He likes when you look over every single inch of him, especially if you have to undress him – he’ll be commenting on how lewd it all is as you peel off his shirt, but his breathing is noticeably heavier and his pants are noticeably tighter – not to mention damp.)

He’ll play the fireman saving you from a burning house, and you’re just so grateful for his heroics and courage that you must repay him somehow!

(And who would he be to turn down your offer of letting him blow his load right into that tight little cunt of yours – as repayment for his hard work, of course!)

He’ll be the professor and you a college student, your grades desperately needing raising as you slowly shimmy off your cardigan, revealing the extremely tight and cropped shirt you’re wearing, the white fabric letting him see everything from your waist and above.

(He’ll have you lean forward, looking at him with sultry eyes as you ask if there’s anything you could do, because you’ll do anything to preform better, sir, because I promise you once I start something, I don’t stop until I finish it.)

He’s game to try almost any scenario, and for the most part it all ends with roughly the same thing – he’s fucking you until you’re nearly sobbing from the overstimulation, his calloused hands running along your body as his labored breaths sound in your ears, his depraved moans in both the scene and of his own volition making your head spin.

He’s a sucker for nearly any kind of roleplay, and if you were to bring up a certain scene? Oh, well – Daichi will almost never say no, but you’d better be prepared to dive deeply into the context because he will be making you play your character.

It’s just so hot to him how your relationship suddenly becomes taboo in the blink of an eye, and yet despite all the compromising situations you pretend to play out, Daichi likes that you’ll start associating him with a character who’s life is inarguably intertwined with yours – after all, where would the multi-billion dollar CEO be without the tight piece of ass he keeps in his office just to service him when things get a bit stressful?

You’re more than that to him, but the effect is the same – he’d be nothing without you, and doesn’t that just make you feel so very special?

OTHER NOTABLE KINKS INCLUDE:

Breeding

Diachi is very much a family man. He’s known from quite early on in his life that he eventually wants children, that he’d love to have a few sons running around shooting Nerf guns at one another, to have a few daughters running around playing tag and pretend.

It’s so heartwarming to him, to think of having his very own family, and once you wander into his life? Well, that desire for children and the parental gene that was semi dormant before suddenly become wildly active – Daichi so badly wants to knock you up, to fuck a baby into you that it becomes something he fixates on any time the two of you have sex.

He still fucks you with the goal of making you both feel good, but now he wants to make you feel good so that his seed will take, so that your tummy will be growing round with his baby.

Each time the two of you are in bed, his hands groping and wandering at every inch of your lovely body, Daichi is imagining the way you’ll look once you’re pregnant.

His fingers squeeze and press into the delicate skin of your breasts, imagining how they’ll swell up, your nipples darkening as milk weighs them down. He imagines how heavily they’ll be as he cups one in each hand, his lips closing around the buds as he suckles, mind filled with fantasies of how you’ll look with droplets of white leaking form your puffy, engorged nipples.

He presses down on your tummy as he fucks into you, marveling at the image of your belly so big you can barely walk, your frail body needing his support to do the simplest tasks, totally dependent on him as you carry what he gave you.

He’ll lick and suck at your clit and pussy, imagining how you’ll grow swollen and hypersensitive, your body having gone without his cock for far, far too long – he can only imagine how insatiable you’ll be after you recover from birth, practically forcing him to stuff you full of him him him.

He will be coming inside you every time, not letting you anywhere near birth control, not having a single condom laying around your shared home – no, it’s just his bare cock and your sweet, fertile and unprotected cunt, joined together and creating something wonderful.

Every time that he fucks you he has the trusty plug nearby, stopping you up once he pulls out to make sure that none of the creamy, sticky white stuffed between your legs leaks out.

He’s spending a few moments to caress your stomach as he tries to catch his breath, dark gaze mesmerized by the image of his cock stuffed into your cunt, almost talking himself into believing your tummy is already swollen from the cum he’d just filled you with.

Daichi will get you pregnant, whether you want him to or not, and once the news comes he couldn’t be happier – after all, you’ll make such a wonderful mother, your stomach round and full and your tits leaking with milk.

Breast Fixation

While your thighs are his favorite part of you (though he doesn’t really have a least favorite part of you – you’re his ideal woman after all), there’s something about your breasts that make Daichi absolutely swoon.

He’s never really identified as a tits man before, firmly preferring legs and thighs. Every bit of porn he’s ever watched he’s all but fast forwarded through the fondling portions, the zoom-ins of the woman’s breasts not doing a huge amount for him compared to way the camera captures the lovely curve of her calves and the plush of her thighs.

But the second that your soft, supple mounds are in front of him? Well, Daichi’s body is reacting before his mind can catch up, before he can realize that he’s reaching out and kneading at the soft flesh, callused hands rubbing and squeezing, a harsh moan tumbling from his lips because fuck you’re so soft, how is that even possible?

He’s reaching out to fondle you at the most random times; in the morning, when your sleeping body is spooning up against his own, he’s reaching around to carefully squeeze and lightly toy with your nipples, feeling the way the soft flesh slowly hardens, how you twitch in your sleep slightly at the minute pressure.

He’s reaching across the dinner table as you chew at your food, fingers giving a firm, purposeful squeeze before he sits back down, content to finish his chicken as he dreams about exactly how your tits will look tonight as he fucks you hard enough to make them bounce.

He’ll teasingly pinch at your nipples when he walks through the door from work, his officer uniform on as he grins and sees the outline of them through the incredibly tight shirt he’d had you put on this morning. And during sex, this doesn’t change; he’s rolling and pulling at your nipples, addicted to the way they pebble, how they slowly tighten up when he blows air onto them.

When his hands aren’t groping your thighs there’s a strong, strong chance that they’re instead present at your chest instead – idly fondling, making you squirm in place as he pushes his hips up against your ass, a murmur of do you feel what these pretty tits do to me babygirl? Can you feel how bad I wanna fuck them?

(And once you get pregnant? God, it’s game over for your chest – he’s fascinated by the way they swell up, how your nipples grow darker and areolas larger, how they’re heavier in his hands. And the second that you start lactating, Daichi is done for – you aren’t allowed to wear a shirt anymore, so that he can constantly be gazing upon your swollen belly and leaking tits, so that he can come by and squeeze one, watching a spurt of milk dribble down, rubbing it all along your skin. He likes nursing on you, muttering how you’ll be such a good mom, how his child is gonna be spoiled for life after getting to suck on tits this fine, this perfect and tasty.)

Really, he just loves your breasts, no matter the size, and Daichi has no shame showing his love – you’re perfect after all, so why should he ever be ashamed of recognizing that?

BIGGEST FANTASY:

While Daichi is completely swamped with explicit fantasies between the two of you, there’s most definitely a hierarchy in terms of what he deems the hottest, what’s most appealing to him, what he’s most desperate to try out with you.

(Of course, he’s not complaining about the onslaught of sexual thoughts he harbors for you – oh no, how could he? How could he possibly be upset when he’s waking up sweaty and panting from dreams starring you without any clothing on? How could he be upset when he’s spending nearly every night wringing himself dry to you, his cock swollen and sore and still aching for more, aching for you? The only downside is the cost of having to replace the bottle of lube he keeps on his nightstand – he goes through an entire bottle in roughly two weeks, spreading so much around his length just to try and replicate what he’s sure is your incredibly wet, warm pussy.)

He’s watched his fair share of porn over the years, and slept with a few different women. Consequently, he’s aware of most kinks and activities in the bedroom, and as a result he feels he has a grasp on all kinds of different things he could do to get you moaning and gasping, your nails raking down his back, your lips parting into that pretty ‘o’ shape when you come.

However, most of his favorite – most eager – fantasies are more conceptual than specific situations. He’s constantly fantasizing about knocking you up; stuffing you so full of his cum that you’re leaking down your thighs, your skin stained with the creamy white while you shake and shudder underneath him, looking so pretty and warm.

He’ll fantasize about making you squirt, your pretty thighs quaking as his fingers rub desperately over your clit, your cries making his cock so hard it hurts. He dreams about fucking you up against a wall, using every muscle in his body to hold you up while he destroys you with his length.

However, Daichi’s biggest fantasy is to hear you beg for him. Nothing gets him harder than hearing you say how badly you want him, how much you need him. Nothing is more appealing to him than having you verbalize how badly your body craves him, how you’ll never be truly happy and satisfied until he’s buried balls deep inside you, drooling pink tip nestled snugly against your cervix.

It’s the stuff of wet dreams – in fact, many, many nights Daichi has awoken an hour or so before his alarm, sweat dripping from his temples and the very obvious tent his cock is making in his bedsheets letting him know that the ringing please Daichi in his head is the culprit. It satisfies his protective and possessive side, knowing that he’s the one you’re craving pleasure from, that only he can give you what you want, what you deserve.

As soon as he imagines you saying please, oh god please he’s rock hard and desperately craving a release from your fingers, mouth, and pussy. He’s craving to hear the way your voice changes pitch as you get closer and closer, how your back arches up slightly and your grip grows more insistent against his biceps, your voice turning whinier and your words slurred and your pussy getting so goddamn tight -

The more he imagines you begging for him, for his cock, his cum, anything, the closer he gets, and it’s a sure fire way to obtain a shatteringly powerful orgasm for him. It just turns him on so much.

His lips press light kisses against your neck, tickling the sensitive skin and making you gasp slightly. His hands ghost against your bare sides, calloused fingertips marveling at your soft skin and making you shiver. He’s above you, hovering over you so that all you can really see is him – his shoulders, rounded with muscle, his jawline (sharp, with a hint of stubble lining the skin), his brown locks falling slightly into his half-lidded eyes, his mouth set into an expression that you can only describe as a mix between utter adoration and lust. It’s a bit overwhelming, and between the pounding in your lower body and the way his fully erect cock is resting against your thigh, you know you can’t just lay down and wait. You need him.

Now.

“P-please…” You whisper, eyes squeezed shut as you buck your hips, desperately trying to get some friction to calm the pounding of your lower body. Daichi chuckles, pressing one last kiss against the soft skin of your neck before sitting up. He stares down at you, taking in the messy state of your hair, the rise and fall of your chest, how your lips part just slightly. He smirks down at you, fingertip tracing your jaw as his mind focuses on how fucking perfect you look in this moment. Flustered, disheveled, desperate all for him – exactly how he likes you.

“Please what, baby girl?” He asks, voice low. You gulp and avert your eyes.

“Please, Daichi. T-touch me…” You whisper, still looking away from him. Daichi’s heart swells as his cock visibly twitches against your thigh - you’re just too adorable like this. So needy and horny all for him…

“Now now, princess. You know only good girls who look at Daddy when they beg get what they want.” The finger tracing your jawline moves down your neck, ghosting over your jugular before dipping down over your collarbone to trace around an areola. You shudder, opening your eyes and looking shyly up at him.

“Daddy, please. I need your big, thick cock.” Your voice is whiny, high pitched and so needy, just how Daichi likes it. His heart flutters at the praise; you know exactly what to say to get him aching for you, his primal instincts taking over and pushing him to just ravish you until you’re shaking and too weak to properly stand. And you can feel how it’s affected him; his cock twitching against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, only coaxing on your own desire to be filled, to get the pleasure your body is craving. His fingers close in on a nipple, watching as it hardens below his calloused fingertips.

“What does my baby girl want this cock to do, hm?” He asks, accompanying his words with a thrust against your thigh. You moan, shivering at the friction against your skin. Daichi smirks once more, pinching your nipple between his pointer finger and thumb. You whimper at the feeling, and as he lightly pulls and tugs, your eyes fly open, catching his brown gaze that’s boring into you so intensely that you’re sure he can see right into your soul.

“W-want Daddy to fuck me, please! I n-need Daddy’s cock inside me, want him to make me come so bad. Please, please!” You beg, your voice so clear and ringing out in the hot silence of the bedroom. Daichi pauses for a moment, his lips parting just slightly as he commits this moment to memory - you looking up at him in such desperation and desire, your arms tossed above your head, hair spread out and looking like a halo, and of course your naked, shivering body that’s just begging to be touched, loved, fucked. The next thing he knows, he’s lost complete control over himself, and he’s leaning down, capturing your lips in a heated, messy kiss.

When he pulls away for air a few moments later, he’s panting and practically buzzing with excitement and need. He leans down and licks the shell of your ear, and growls. In the low, gravelly tone you’ve learned to associate with a sore pussy for several days afterwards he groans, “Get ready baby girl, gonna fuck you so hard you’ll be screaming Daddy’s name all night.”

And with that, he pushes in, cursing sharply at the feeling of how you clench down on him as your startled moan rings through the air. He grunts; you’re so fucking warm and wet, and immediately his hips are snapping back, thrusting, creating a bruising pace that leaves you scratching at his back as you chant ‘yes, Daddy, yes’ under your voice over and over.

“A-ah, oh Daddy yes yes yes please ngh, oh more -!” You cry out, throwing your head back and clutching desperately at his shoulders, hearing him grunt from deep within his chest.

“More what babygirl? Tell – fuck, you’re so fucking tight – tell Daddy what more you want.” He growls, slowing his pace ever so slightly as you whine and buck your hips.

“Want Daddy to fuck me stupid, wanna be his silly little – little girl.” You’re desperate at this point, the stretch of his cock and painfully slow movement against your walls not giving you nearly enough stimulation.

Daichi smirks, leaning down to press his forehead against yours. “Yeah? Wanna be Daddy’s dumb little girl, all stuffed full of cock?”

You nod your head, biting your lip and squeezing your eyes shut as he slowly starts moving again, the slap of his balls against your ass making you cry out in pleasure and happiness.

“Fuck you’re so pretty, my pretty little baby, getting destroyed on Daddy’s fat cock, fuck –“ His words are nearly unintelligible, said mostly for his benefit, but it only makes you cry out louder, a few tears gathering in the corners of your eyes as the minutes pass by, the trace edges of your orgasm creeping up on you.

And Daichi can feel the way you slowly grow tighter, your moans changing in pitch and volume. He grunts, snapping his hips into you and asking you in a shaky voice, “Something the matter babygirl?”

You whimper, eyes peeling open to stare into the brown depths of his own. “Gonna – gonna come Daddy, please let me come, wanna come so bad!”

And when you’re looking at him with teary eyes, desperation written across your face as your walls clamp down on him hard enough to leave him breathless, how could he possibly deny you?

“Shit, yes – fuck, come for Daddy, cream all over this cock.”

And all Daichi can do is bury his face into your neck, and keep his hips pistoning into you as he reminds himself that this is finally real, that he’s finally getting to be with you and touch you, and when you clench down around him a good five minutes later, a moan of his name ripping from your throat as you come, Daichi thinks he must have found his heaven on Earth. After all, nothing else can explain the way your body makes him feel, the way you make him feel.

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