#i didn't think i was going to make it to 18

[wosospacegirl]

dinosaurs and...sex? - Alexia Putellas

Summary: Alexia's girlfriend is way too stressed out for her own good, so she puts matter into her own hands (fingers)

Word count: 2.2k

Warning: (+18) fingering and oral (r receiving) and at the end suggestive to oral (r giving) because we are all switches here at wosospacegirl

A/n: I think I've found my niche in fanfic and it's writing nerdy lesbian sex...sorry it's repetitive but it's just so fun to write them...

this is a scheduled post because I *actually* have a dinosaur test to study to and I don't have alexia to eat me out so--

..

"Can I come in, or are you still acting like a monster?" Alexia said from the doorway, leaning casually against the frame. She was holding something, but you couldn't quite see what, mostly because your eyes had stopped functioning after reading the word Mesozoic for the ninth time.

You had decided to go to university.

 And now you carry that burden every day. Every. Single. Day.

It was finals week, and you were an absolute wreck. You were so stressed that you had caught the worst cold ever known to humankind. Why your immune system gave up on you at the slightest sign of stress, you didn't know.

Alexia had taken care of you and made sure you rested. But of course, that meant you hadn't been able to study for three whole days.

And now here you were, at Alexi's house, sprawled across her bed, surrounded by books that were open at completely random pages, with class notes you didn't even remember taking.

Your eyes hurt. Your head hurts. Everything hurt. But mostly your soul, because you felt like you barely had one. Surely you had long lost it between the Jurassic and the Cretaceous period.

And when everything hurt, it made you angry, because you couldn't study the way you wanted to. And when you were angry, you were rude.

Alexia had shown up (to her room, in her house) and asked if the two of you shouldn't take a walk or do something relaxing. AKA: She was getting stressed from watching you mumble like a maniac about something called…Coelurosauria?

You, ever the sweet and understanding girlfriend, had snapped at her, questioning why the hell she was bothering you while you were studying.

It wasn't a "Hi, Alexia, I'm sorry, I can't talk right now."

It was a "Oh my fucking God, Alexia, can't you leave me alone for two whole minutes?"

Alexia–who was actually sweet and understanding– didn't say anything. She just stepped closer to where you were sitting, kissed the top of your head, and left a protein bar beside you before quietly walking away, probably heading for a lonely walk around Barcelona.

You cried while studying the skeleton of the Brachiosaurus because you felt guilty afterwards.

You didn't want to be mean, but finals brought out the worst in you. Still, Alexia wasn't the one to blame.

You knew Alexia was back when you heard the front door on the first floor opening and then closing. You heard her taking off her shoes and making her way upstairs.

You felt the mattress dip beside you, and when you turned around, Alexia was sitting there. You gave her your biggest, most apologetic eyes. 

"I'm sorry," you said, genuinely.

Alexia looked at you, cupped your jaw, and brought your mouth to hers. She kissed you sweetly. "It's okay," she murmured against your lips as you closed your eyes. 

"I know you get grumpy when you're overwhelmed with school. No need to say sorry."

"Yes, I do," you said, breaking the kiss and flopping back onto the bed, almost like a starfish. Your book was lying open beside you as you stared at the ceiling. "I was rude, that's not okay."

"It is okay," Alexia said, as she hovered above you, her hair tickling your cheek. "Because you sound hot when you're mad."

You rolled your eyes and pecked her lips. "Okay, now you're stretching."

"I'm serious," she said, getting off of you and sitting cross-legged at the end of the bed. "You pout and your brows furrow…It's like  exactly the face you make when you're about to cum–"

"Okay!" you interrupted, throwing your book at her, your face burning. Alexia could be so crude when she wanted to.  "No talking about sex, or–"

"--you cumming?" Alexia teased, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," you groaned. "This is literally the most boring subject ever. It doesn't pair well with dirty talk."

Alexia stayed quiet for a few seconds, and you took that as a sign to return to your notes and re-read them. You were lying on your stomach now,  your paper was spread out in front of you, when you felt Alexia climb on top of you and drop all of her weight onto your back.

Out of the sudden, you had a book to your face as well–your zoology and evolution of dinosaur book.

Alexia cheekily snatched your notes, and before you could complain, her voice filled the room as she read the book.

"Thyreophora, often known as armoured dinosaurs, were a group of ornithischian dinosaurs that lived from the Early Jurassic until the end of the Cretaceous…"

You listened as Alexia spoke, and you couldn't help but feel as if she was… reading it erotically?

You felt her weight on your back, the way she held your book right in front of you, holding it with one hand while her other hand stayed pressed to your ribcage.

"Primitive forms had simple, low, keeled scutes or osteoderms," she continued, her voice low as she pressed more fully into your body like she was getting cosy, relaxing. "Oh, those are cool, right, bebé?" she said against your ear, and you couldn't help the shiver that ran through you.

You had known Alexia long enough to recognise when she was doing this on purpose.

Sometimes, you had the willpower to push her away and to fight back. You had to study, your exam was tomorrow!! But right now?

Right now, you wanted to be pliant.

"Most thyreophorans were herbivorous and had small brains for their size," she said, her hand slipping under your shirt, her cold fingertips grazing your skin just above your ribs. 

"Oh, does that mean they were dumb?"Alexia asked innocently, placing a kiss on the back of your neck.

"N-no," you stammered as you tried to move, but her body was still pinning you down. "Brain size doesn't really determine intelligence…"

Alexia hummed against your skin, letting the book fall onto the bed with a soft thud. 

Now her full attention was on your neck, she was licking your skin before sucking the it into her mouth.

"I thought the bigger the brain, the smarter?" she murmured.

She sat up from behind you and turned you over, leaving you flat on your back. Then she kissed you deep and slow, biting your lip.

"No, it doesn't mean that," you mumbled, lifting your arms as Alexia pulled off your shirt, leaving your torso bare. "W-what is intelligence, after all, right? It's a very human construct and we…."

Your breath hitched as Alexia kissed your stomach, slowly making her way down to your navel, then she gently tugged at the waistband of your pants.

You lifted your hips, helping her in the process of getting you naked.

"Keep going, amor, "Alexia said, kissing you just above your underwear. "I don't want to distract you from your studies."

Her fingers slid down to your centre, where the wet spot of your underwear was. Your eyes were closed now, but you knew Alexia was smirking.

"What were you saying about intelligence?"Alexia coaxed, her voice innocent, as if she wasn't doing anything wrong, as if she really was helping you study.

But thinking about dinosaurs or intelligence or anything was nearly impossible as she hooked her fingers into the sides of your underwear and pulled them aside, exposing you completely. She slid her fingers just above your cunt, spreading your weteness slowly around your folds, teasing you.

You moaned as Alexia pressed just the tip of your finger inside of your cunt, your hips moving, begging for more contact, but Alexia didn't give in. She wanted to make you work for it for a bit.

"If you don't talk," Alexia said sternly, kissing the inside of your thigh, "I'll stop. Keep going. Tell me about the subject."

You were in silence, your brain mush. It was like you forgot you even knew any words, let alone the evolution of ornithischian dinosaurs.

Although you were quick to remember it when Alexia took her mouth away from your body.

You clutched at her head, pressing her against your cunt. 

"Please, keep going–"you whined. "I-I was saying that intelligence is a human parameter, and we shouldn't judge other species based on it because it's honestly a very anthropocentric concept…"

"There she is, my smart girl, "Alexia purred. And just like magic, she slid her index finger inside of you, and your body welcomed it immediately. "What else can you tell me about those Thy… Thry…"

"Thyreophora," You breathed as Alexia slid another finger in, thrusting into you so slowly it made you want to cry. "There are two major groups, th-" 

You didn't even get to finish, because you felt alexia's hot breath against your cunt, her mouth touching your clit, wrapping her lips aorund itand sucking gently. "Fuck–more." 

Alexia slapped your thigh; it didn't sting, but it was a warning.

"Keep talking." 

So you did.

Alexia ate you out slowly as if she was savouring every single drop of your wetness. You were very aware she was enjoying herself way too much; you also knew she was doing it as a form of revenge, too.

But you didn't mind for her motives, not when she kept fucking you like that. She only stopped when you stopped talking. 

She really was taking your studies very seriously.

Alexia's tongue was thrusting inside of you. You didn't know how she had mastered the ability to penetrate you so deeply with her tongue, but you (once again) didn't care.

Her hands were pinning you down on the mattress, clutching your hip bones, not letting you move an inch as she continued to thoroughly pleasure (or maybe torture) you.

It took you a while to cum, but not because Alexia wasn't giving you what you needed, but because your body had trouble switching from stressed, anxious and overstimulated to relaxed.

Alexia didn't say a word about it. She didn't make you feel bad that it was taking longer than usual. She just kept her mouth on your cunt, as if she had all the time in the word.

And when you finally came, it felt like your body had truly relaxed for the first time in days. 

You felt as if all of your muscles relaxed all at once. Your eyes rolled back, and you yanked at Alexia's hair with a little more force than you were intending to, but she didn't complain. 

You were trying to catch your breath when alexia finally lifted her face from your cunt. 

She made her way up your body, kissing your stomach and your breasts before (finally) kissing you, and sliding her tongue in to let you taste yourself.

"See," Alexia whispered as she broke the kiss. She lay her head on your chest, her finger gently tracing your face. "I was right."

"Rigth about what?" You barely manage to say. 

"Your face when you cum," She said against your sking, kissing your collarbone. "The pout, the furrowed eyebrows."

You blink, still pretty much dizzy. "Did you make all of this... too prove a point?"

"Maybe," she said, smiling. 

"I hate you," you murmured, closing your eyes and letting your hands run through her hair.

"You don't," Alexia said. "You just came in my mouth, I think that was a love confession, actually."

You chucked at Alexia's words. 

Maybe it was the oxytocin running through your body stream, or maybe it was the quiet realisation that this was the first time you and Alexia were properly intimate in days, mostly because of your schedule at uni and her schedule at Barcelona.

You surprised yourself by lowering your head and kissing her again, your hands slipping under her shirt to trace the back tattoos you knew by heart.

Alexia kissed you back–and what was a sweet kiss–turned into something urgent.

"I want you," you breathed against her mouth, your hand curling around the back of her neck. "Now."

"Yeah?" Alexia smirked. "How?"

"On your back, legs spread open," you said.

"Okay," she simply said.

She did what you asked of her. 

She lay down, but she winced slightly when one of your pens dug into her back.

You watched her for a moment, admiring her, and then you undressed her completely. You took her shirt off, and then her training bra.

You wrapped your lips around her nipples, sucking them until Alexia was gasping, asking for more.

Without wasting another second, you pulled down her shorts and underwear in one go. 

You spread her legs apart with each of your hands and began kissing the inside of her thighs, biting them softly,  leaving teeth marks where no one would see them.

You were in your moment now.  Feeling hot and heavy, watching Alexia's cunt dripping right in forn of your face, how pretty her cunt looked, how ready she was for you.

But just as you were ready to taste her, Alexia said.

"Do you want me to read your notes out loud while you do it?"

You paused, your mouth still slightly open, looking up at her. You truly had a problem reading her facial expression.

At the same time that it looked like she was teasing you, it also seemed like the proposal was sincere, like she might actually do it if you said yes.

You glared at her, your eyes narrowing, trying to make your point across without having to use any words.

"Okay," she said quickly. "I guess that's a no."

..

A/n: Got the dino infos on Wikipedia!

Tag list: @footy-lover264 , @fortifyde, @naomigirmadefender , @neutraiise , @milkveed, @browercc , @ace-of-baked , @ikzzzya , @sky-the-trans-guy00 , @knight-16 , @wosohk04 , @evaissleepy13 , @papimapileon , @unpoppablebubbles @whiskeredshrimp-blog @goodloe-e @liloandstitchstan @s0ciety-cxv @dfwspky @karmajn @awosofavs @wosofavfanfics

[woogilicious]

didn't think i'd fall here ꒰ mingi ꒱

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ rating: 18+ (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT) ⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ pairing: song mingi x female!reader ⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ word count: 6.5k ⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ genre: strangers to lovers, comfort, virgin!reader, virgin!mingi, friends-to-lovers energy, soft angst, smut, fluff ⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ warnings: emotional manipulation, toxic friendship, crying, anxiety, self-esteem issues, first time sex, consensual sex, safe sex, soft dom!mingi vibes, realistic first time awkwardness, condom run to the convenience store lol, mentions of blood during sex (light), aftercare, mingi being obsessed with you, reader threatening to chop mingi's dick off lovingly ♡ ⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ author's note: it's been a while y'all. hope you enjoy this smut, and also I've been trying some new layout lol cuz i'm not satisfied with my previous layout.

You didn't even want to come here today.

Lotte World was supposed to be fun��cotton candy, carousel selfies, maybe something gentle like bumper cars. But with Yujin and Hana, it was never about fun. It was about appearances. About pushing you into situations just to get a reaction, to laugh behind their hands at how you squirmed.

"Ugh, you're seriously scared of this?" Yujin groan, snapping a photo of the massive Atlantis roller coaster ahead, the steel tracks twisting like some cruel maze in the sky. "It's not even the scariest ride here."

"Right?" Hana chimes in. "God, you're so boring sometimes, Y/N. No wonder no guy ever looks at you."

You laugh. It's hollow.

It doesn't stop the sting.

The queue is already packed when they drag you towards the entrance. You hesitate, but Yujin latches onto your wrist like you're a toddler about to run into traffic.

"Don't be a baby. It's just a ride."

"But I really don't—"

"Do not make a scene," she hisses, smiling too widely as a group of boys glance over. "You're already embarrassing enough. Come on."

The line inches forward. Every step closer makes your chest tighter, like the straps of an invisible harness locking you in. Your stomach churns, hands tremble. But you don't say a word.

Yujin and Hana are too busy taking selfies to notice. Or care.

You stand behind them, quiet, small, barely existing.

"Swear to god," Yujin mutters at one point, "you're going to die single if you keep acting like this. You gotta be brave. Guys hate weak girls."

Hana laughs way too loud. "She needs a guy to knock some sense into her. Or just knock her up. Either one might fix it."

Your ears burn.

You try to laugh again, just to keep up the illusion. It sounds like you're choking.

And still, the line moves.

You're maybe five people from the platform when the operator suddenly shouts, "Two seat available now! Anyone here riding as a pair?"

Yujin doesn't even ask. Doesn't even glance back.

She and Hana leap forward.

"We're two!"

They disappear up the stairs in a blink. The group in front of you steps forward. And just like that, you're alone.

You don't cry, not yet.

But your body's reacting—shaking hands, clenched jaw, vision blurring at the edges. You're aware that walking backward through the crowded line would be more embarrassing than just riding the damn thing. At least, that's what your brain tells you.

The panic bubbles anyway.

You suck in a sharp breath, eyes glued to the track. It creaks and rumbles as the next cart wooshes by in a blur. Someone screams in delight. You're going to throw up. Right here, in front of everyone.

And then—

"Hey."

You jump.

The voice is gentle, low, curious. You turn around.

Three boys stand behind you, next in line. The tallest one—broad shoulders, brown hair—tilts his head at you.

You blink. "...huh?"

He offers a small smile. "You look like you're about to faint."

You open your mouth, then shut it.

The second boy, shorter but muscular with sharp features and a piercing stare, cuts in. "She was with those girls, right? They just ditched her."

The third guy, softer looking with black hair and pretty eyes, nods. "That's messed up."

You look between them, startled that they even noticed.

"I'm—fine," you lie. "I'll just... I was gonna leave."

"Back through that crowd?" The tall one says, gesturing behind.

"...yeah."

He glances at the operator, then back at you. "Well, you don't have to ride alone. I'll go with you."

You blink. "What?"

He smiles again, this time more reassuring. "I mean—if you want. We can ride together. No pressure."

"...why?"

He shrugs. "You look like you need a buddy."

The one with the sharp stare grins now. "This guy's Mingi. He's annoyingly a gentleman sometimes."

"I'm Jongho," he adds, giving you a little nod. "And that's Yeosang."

Yeosang gives you a tiny wave.

"Thanks," you mumble, feeling overwhelmed but... oddly warm. "I'm Y/N."

Jongho snorts. "Yeah, we heard your friends being total assholes. Y/N, you seriously deserve better than that."

You swallow. The words hit harder than they should.

Mingi gently touches your elbow. "You okay riding the roller coaster with me?"

You look at him—his soft gaze, his open posture, the zero judgement in his tone. And for once, someone isn't making you feel like a burden.

"...yeah," you breathe. "Okay."

The staff waves you forward.

Mingi lets you take the seat first, then slips in beside you, pulling the safety bar down. He's close—his knee brushes yours, and his scent is something clean and warm, like citrus and sun.

He glances at you.

"You're brave for doing this."

You almost laugh.

The ride jerks forward with a lurch.

Your fingers grip the bar.

Mingi's hand moves, gently resting on top of yours.

It's warm. Your fingers twitch beneath his at first, unsure, but then the roller coaster jolts forward with a hiss of steam, and you instinctively grip him back like your life depends on it.

He chuckles low under his breath. "That tight already? We haven't gone up yet."

You shoot him a panicked glance, knuckles going pale. "I'm not gonna survive this."

"You will," he says, voice soft. "You've got me now."

The ride starts its slow, agonising climb. Your heart funds like it's trying to launch itself out of your chest.

Mingi doesn't let go. Not even once. His thumb strokes over your knuckles in lazy circles, like he's trying to distract you from the threatening death drop ahead.

"Deep breath," he murmurs. "You've got this, Y/N."

The cart tips.

You scream.

It's not even cute. It's pure terror.

And Mingi just laughs—not at you though, but in joy, throwing his hands up as you fly down the track, wind whipping through your hair, your body tossed left and right.

You never let go of his hand.

By the time it slows and returns to the platform, your voice is gone, and your legs feel like jelly. You stumble forward a little when the bar lifts, but Mingi's hand on your back steadies you.

"You alright?" he asks, eyes scanning your face.

You nod, breathless, dazed.

He smiles, wide and proud. "You did amazing. Seriously! That was brave as hell."

You want to say thank you, but you're still processing the fact that your heart is beating and your limbs are still attached. You let out a small laugh instead, cheeks flushed, the adrenaline not quite fading yet.

Then you hear it.

"Wait, where's Y/N?"

Your stomach sinks.

You turn your head toward the exit ramp and spot them—Yujin and Hana—posing near a churro cart, phone angled high, lips puckered in matching fake smiles.

The voice is unmistakable.

"Probably chickened out and left the roller coaster," Yujin mutters, loud enough that you catch every word.

Hana scoffs, adjusting her hair. "We should find her, I guess. We did come with her car, after all."

"Ugh," Yujin groans. "So annoying. I hate her sometimes."

Hana snorts. "Sometimes?"

They both burst into laughter.

It hits you harder than the drop on the coaster.

You freeze. The sting behind your eyes burns hot, and you blink rapidly, refusing to let the tears win. Not here. Not in front of Mingi, Yeosang and Jongho.

But Mingi heard it too.

You feel the shift in his posture beside you, the way his jaw clenches just slightly. He glances back at Jongho and Yeosang, who both clearly clock the situation. A silent nod happens between them.

Then, without warning, Mingi gently grabs your wrist.

"Come on."

You look up, startled. "Wait—what? Where are we going?"

He's already walking you in the opposite direction.

"I—I need to go to them," you say, stumbling to keep with his pace. "I need to send them home—"

"Are they your close friends?" he asks, cutting you off calmly.

You stop walking. "Huh?"

"Do you hang out with them a lot?"

"…No. We used to be close in high school. But now… not really. We're all in different universities and barely meet up anymore."

Mingi hums like that’s exactly the answer he expected. "Good. So you can cut them off."

You blink. "What?"

He turns to face you properly, his expression serious but not harsh. "Why spend the rest of your day with people who treat you like that? Just hang out with us."

You open your mouth to argue, but then Jongho jogs up beside you, slinging an arm over your shoulder like you've been besties for years.

"You didn't hear what they said? They're literally using you for your car and shitting on you behind your back."

"Yeah," Yeosang says, catching up, a rare frown on his usually passive face. “That's not what friends do. That's just… sad."

"I don't wanna ruin your guys' day though," you say quietly, unsure.

Mingi shakes his head. "You're not. I asked you to stay. You're not an obligation. You're a choice."

That line makes your heart skip.

Jongho smirks. "Besides, Mingi's in his hero mode now. You're stuck with us."

Yeosang chuckles. "He only gets like this when something really pisses him off."

You glance at Mingi, who's pretending not to listen, but the way he nudges your arm with his elbow says otherwise.

And for once… it feels okay to be pulled in a different direction.

You're still holding your tray with half-finished tteokbokki when Mingi takes a seat beside you at the picnic table. Jongho and Yeosang are opposite, poking fun at each other while stealing bits from the fishcake skewer pile.

"You okay?" Mingi asks quietly, sipping from his soda.

You nod. "Actually… yeah. Thanks to you guys."

He hums. "Good."

It feels so normal, sitting here with them. You were smiling. Genuinely smiling. For the first time in weeks, maybe.

The stand nearby is selling fresh corndogs and hotteok. You notice Jongho eyeing them, and your stomach grumbles too.

"I'll grab some more snacks," you say, standing. "My treat."

"Are you sure?" Yeosang asks.

"Yeah," you smile. "You guys saved me today. Least I can do."

You approach the snack cart, debating how many corndogs to grab when—

Shove.

It's not hard enough to knock you down, but enough to make you stumble forward a step. You turn, startled.

"Oh my god, we knew we saw your big back over here," Yujin says with a laugh, like it's the funniest thing in the world.

Hana smirks, standing beside her, arms crossed.

You step back, lips parting. "You guys left me."

Yujin rolls her eyes. "No we didn't? We were waiting for you by the churros stand."

"I was standing alone in line," you reply, your voice still soft, careful not to escalate anything. "You jumped ahead without even checking on me."

"Please," Hana mutters. "You probably didn't see us because you were too much of a pussy to ride."

They both burst into laughter.

You feel it again—that familiar sting in your chest. But this time, before you can say anything, another voice cuts through the air.

"Hey, Y/N. Is there a problem here?"

You look to your side.

Mingi's there, standing tall, eyes dark, jaw clenched. And when he looks at Yujin and Hana, the playful energy around them dies instantly.

Yujin straightens up, adjusting her top. "Oh heyyyy~" she says, her tone suddenly flirty. "And who might you be?"

"Do you know him?" Hana adds, nudging you.

"Yes," you reply clearly. "He offered to ride the roller coaster with me."

Yujin raises an eyebrow. "Really now…"

Then Mingi steps closer, resting a firm hand around your wrist—not hard, just protective.

"If you don’t have anything decent to say to Y/N," he says, voice sharp like a knife, "you can leave. She's hanging out with me and my friends now."

He doesn't wait for them to respond. He gently pulls you away, guiding you back toward the table where Jongho and Yeosang are already watching with narrowed eyes.

You think it's over—until Yujin and Hana follow you.

"Oh my god, Y/N," Yujin says loudly. "Don’t be such a whore and take three guys at once~ At least leave one for us."

You freeze mid-step.

"…Excuse me?" you blink slowly, not even sure you heard her right.

Yujin grins, proud. "Sharing is caring, babe."

You glance at Hana, who won’t meet your eyes.

"…Yujin," you say softly. "You have a boyfriend."

"So?" she scoffs. "You're being a greedy whore with three guys up your ass. You're no better than me."

Your breath catches. You stare at her, shocked. Embarrassed. Ashamed, even though you've done nothing wrong.

Hana still won't look at you.

And that's when Mingi steps forward.

"You know what's actually disgusting?" Mingi says, his voice suddenly cold. "That you think humiliating someone publicly makes you funny. That mocking someone you call a friend is just a joke. That dragging her down is the only way you feel better about yourself."

Yujin's face stiffens.

"And calling her a whore?" Mingi scoffs. "Girl, she's more decent than either of you. If having three people care about her makes her a whore, then maybe you should ask yourself why no one treats you that way."

Hana lets out a tiny breath like she's been slapped.

Mingi turns to them fully now, shielding you with his body.

"Don't talk to her again," he says firmly. "Don't call her. Don't look at her. Don't even think about her. Got it?"

Yujin crosses her arms. "Oh really? But she's our ride. She drove us here."

Jongho suddenly stands from the table. "Then go ask your boyfriend to pick you up."

The silence is loud.

Yujin's mouth opens, but nothing comes out. Hana still won't look at you.

You don't say a word. You just follow the boys as they walk away, head high, shoulders squared. Mingi's hand brushes yours. You don't pull away.

Behind you, you hear Yujin groan like a spoiled brat not getting what she wants.

And you don't look back.

You're quiet as you sit back at the table. You feel small again—not because of what they said, but because of how much it still hurts.

Jongho passes you a drink without a word. Yeosang silently offers you the hotteok you didn't get to buy.

Mingi sits beside you again, elbows on the table, glancing sideways at your face.

"You okay?" he asks for the second time today.

You nod, eyes glassy.

"You don't have to be," he adds softly.

"…I don't get it," you murmur. "I never did anything to them. I was always… trying to be nice."

"You were too nice," Yeosang says, voice calm. "Some people take kindness as weakness. That's not on you."

"She was jealous of you," Jongho adds bluntly. "Both of them were. You're quiet and kind and people like you without having to perform for it. That's threatening for girls like them."

You stare at your lap. "…I just hate that it got so ugly in front of everyone."

Mingi leans in closer, dropping his voice low. "If anything, you should be proud of yourself. You stood your ground. And you have three guys now who will never let anyone talk to you like that again."

You look up, eyes wide, lips parting.

Yeosang raises his soda. "To cutting off shitty people."

You laugh, finally.

And Mingi… he just watches you.

Like he's proud.

Like he’s already planning to keep you close all day.

The sun had dipped low by the time you all wandered back to your car, arms full of leftover snacks, plastic bags rustling with street game prizes and bottled drinks. The entire afternoon had gone by in a blur. One that smelled like honey butter corndogs and felt like safe hands holding you up.

"This your car?" Jongho asks, tapping the roof lightly.

You nod, unlocking it. "Yeah. It’s not fancy, but she gets me from A to B."

"It's cute," Yeosang says, popping a piece of candy into his mouth. "Matches you."

You glance at him, surprised. "Matches… me?"

"Yeah." He shrugs, smiling. "Kind of cozy. And a little beat up, but still standing."

You laugh. "Are you calling me emotionally damaged?"

"Absolutely," he says without blinking.

Mingi chuckles, watching you giggle as you swing the backdoor open to stash the snacks.

Jongho leans against the trunk, stretching. "We should hang out again sometime."

"Seconded," Yeosang says.

You smile. "I'd like that."

Mingi steps beside you and pulls out his phone. "Give me your number."

You blink. "Just like that?"

"Yeah," he grins. "No games. Just want to be able to text you."

Your heart skips.

You rattle off your number, and he saves it under Y/N 🎢, making you groan and hit his arm.

"What? You survived that roller coaster like a champ."

"I screamed."

"And held my hand the whole time," he says, low and teasing.

You turn away before your face gives too much away.

They all pile into their own car a few minutes later—Yeosang at the wheel, Jongho arguing over aux cord rights. Mingi rolls his window down just before they drive off.

"Hey, text me when you get home."

You glance up. "You too."

He smiles. "I will."

One week later.

You're sitting under a shady tree, picking at your sandwich while scrolling on your phone. Midterms are creeping up and your brain is half-fried. You barely notice the tall figure walking toward your bench until a shadow falls across your lap.

"Hey."

You look up—and blink.

"…Mingi?"

He grins, hands in the pockets of his bomber jacket. "Surprised?"

"Uh—yeah?? What are you doing here?"

"Your university's not that far from my dorm. I was in the area… and I was hungry."

You raise a brow. "So you decided to find me?"

"Obviously," he shrugs, plopping down beside you like this is the most normal thing ever.

Your heart does a backflip. "You're really bold, huh?"

He leans back on his palms, tilting his head toward you. "I just wanted to see how you were doing. After all… I haven't heard much from someone."

You flush. "I—I've been busy…"

"I know. I'm just teasing."

There's a pause.

The breeze rustles the leaves above. He's looking at you again, but this time with something softer in his expression.

"You seemed kinda quiet that day when we left," he says. "Was worried."

You glance down at your hands. "I was just… processing everything. It felt weird cutting someone off like that."

"They deserved it," Mingi says, voice firm. "You don't need people who treat you like garbage just because they've known you for a long time."

"…I know," you admit. "It just takes time to process all that."

He nods slowly. "Makes sense. Still. You're stronger than you think."

You smile, small. "You really don't have to keep being this nice to me, you know."

"But I want to."

That makes your breath catch.

He sits up straighter, taking a bite of the snack he brought—some triangle kimbap from the uni convenience store.

"Anyway, what's your major again?" he asks, chewing.

"Communications," you say. "Why?"

"Just wondering what kind of power you'll have in the future. I gotta make sure I stay on your good side now."

You laugh. "What about you?"

"Dance," he says proudly. "But I'm also thinking of minoring in theatre. I like performing."

"That… makes sense. You're kind of a natural."

"At performing?"

"At… pulling attention," you admit, looking away. "You make people feel comfortable."

He hums. "Not everyone. But I guess I try."

There's a comfortable silence again.

Then Mingi glances at your phone screen, noticing the time.

"You have class soon?"

"Yeah. In twenty minutes."

"Damn," he says, standing slowly and stretching his long arms. "Time flew."

"It did," you say. "I didn’t think I'd talk to anyone this long today."

"Lucky you. I'm charming."

You roll your eyes.

He steps a little closer now, towering over you just slightly—but he's not intimidating. He's playful. Easy. Gentle.

"Hey," he says, voice low.

You look up. "Yeah?"

"Do you wanna go out Friday night?"

Your heart skips a beat.

"Like… just us?"

He smiles. "Yeah. Just us."

You swallow, trying not to look too flustered. "Sure. That sounds nice."

He winks. "It's a date then."

And with that, he turns and walks off toward the exit gates, hands still shoved in his pockets like nothing happened.

You just sit there, dumbfounded, heat crawling up your face.

You're pretty sure you don't taste your sandwich after that.

Friday.

When you open the door, the last thing you expect to see is Mingi in all black—loose button-up tucked into slacks, gold necklace glinting faintly under the porch light—and a massive bouquet of pastel flowers in hand.

Your mouth opens. But nothing comes out.

He smiles. "Too much?"

"I—no, no," you sputter, staring at the bouquet. "These are gorgeous. Are those peonies? Wait… are these imported?"

He glances at them. "I dunno, I just told the florist I wanted something that looked like you."

Your face burns instantly.

"Stop saying stuff like that so casually!"

Mingi laughs, handing you the bouquet as you step aside to let him in briefly. "It's true though. Pretty, soft, and a little expensive-looking."

You glare, trying not to melt.

Once the flowers are safely in a vase, you both head out. He opens the car door for you like a damn drama male lead, and you have to mentally scream at yourself not to act too giddy.

The drive is filled with music, light banter, and the occasional glance that lingers too long at red lights. When he pulls up to a high-rise building with a fancy valet and dim chandelier lighting peeking from the glass walls, you blink twice.

"Wait," you say slowly, reading the restaurant sign. "We're eating here?"

"Yeah," he says, unbuckling his seatbelt casually. "Why?"

"Mingi… this place is expensive. Like, minimum 5-digit bill expensive."

"So?" He laughs, turning to look at you. "It's not every day I take someone out on a date. Plus, I invited you. I can't just take you to the food court."

You stare at him. "You're rich…"

He snorts. "Does that make you look at me differently?"

You shake your head. "Of course not. It's just… I grew up thinking that when people date, it should be fifty-fifty. I feel kinda guilty when someone spends too much on me."

Mingi looks at you for a second, soft but amused. "That's cute."

Your cheeks flush.

He continues, voice warm, "But seriously, Y/N, today's my treat. Maybe in the future you can treat me. But for now… your presence is already more than enough."

You make a face. "You're such a flirt.”

He grins. "You haven't seen the half of it."

Dinner is unreal. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the Han River, and your seats are by the glass. The food is plated like art, the conversation flows effortlessly, and the wine Mingi orders (which you swear costs as much as your monthly internet bill) is surprisingly good.

At one point, you both laugh over nothing, and Mingi leans his cheek on his hand.

"You know," he says, "Jongho hasn't shut up about that day."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah. For someone who's a year younger than me, he sure loves teasing me like he's older."

You pause. "Wait—Jongho's younger than you?"

Mingi blinks. "Oh, we didn't clarify that, huh?"

"Oh my god, I thought he was the oldest!"

Mingi bursts out laughing. "You're not the first person to say that! Everyone thinks that! He's just too mature for his face."

"Or," you smirk, "maybe you and Yeosang are just too immature."

He gasps. "Hey! I'm mature!"

"I stalked your tagged photos on Instagram," you say nonchalantly. "Your friends call you a big princess."

He chokes on his drink. "You what?"

You grin. "That's right. I did my research."

Mingi leans in closer, voice suddenly low and playful. "Why were you stalking me, hmm? Miss this princess that much?"

Your heart slams in your chest.

"Mingi, stop it," you say, rolling your eyes to hide your very real flustered state.

He chuckles, pleased. "I love teasing you."

"And you're way too good at it."

He shrugs. "Only with people I like."

That line hits harder than it should.

By the time you finish eating, the staff clears your plates and refills your glasses with water. You sit back, full, sipping slowly.

You glance at him. "So… where are we going next?"

Mingi raises a brow. "Someone's excited."

You smirk. "I mean… I haven't been on a real date in a long time. This already beat my expectations."

He leans forward slightly, tilting his head. "Wanna do something more relaxed? We can go for a walk near the river. There's a quiet park close by with lights and benches."

You nod. "That sounds really nice."

"Cool," he says, standing and reaching for your coat. "Let's go. I've got a playlist ready and everything."

"You have a date playlist?"

"I might have made one last night."

You stare at him.

He shrugs. "What? You make me nervous."

Mingi walks you to your door, still chatting about some guy from his dance class who tried to moonwalk in socks and almost dislocated his knee.

You laugh softly, fingers brushing your keys, reluctant for the night to end.

"Y/N?"

You glance up. "Yeah?"

He leans in quickly, and before you can process it, he presses a soft kiss to your cheek. Warm. Quick. Sincere.

He pulls back, eyes wide, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry if that was too sudden. You can tell me if you're not okay with it—seriously."

You blink—then laugh, cheeks warm.

"Thanks. I don't mind."

He exhales, a tiny puff of relief, then smiles as he starts walking back toward his car.

"Wait—Mingi!"

He turns around. "Yes?"

You grin, still standing by your door. "Let's go out next week. My treat."

His smile stretches so wide it almost splits his face.

"Okay, princess. See you next week. Update me always, okay?"

He winks, hops into his car, and drives off—while you stand there, clutching your warm cheek and thinking about nothing but him.

A few months later.

You've gone on more dates than you can count now.

Some were cute and simple—arcades, cafés, late-night convenience store runs. Others were more put-together, gallery dates, dance showcases, even grocery shopping for dinner you'd cook together. There's a comfort between you and Mingi now.

Tonight, it's just a Netflix night.

It's Saturday, you're at your place, and Mingi's stretched out on your couch, arm around you while a movie plays. You're curled beside him, blanket over both of your legs, a half-finished bag of popcorn resting on his thigh.

And then—on screen—an erotic scene plays out. Soft moaning, slow kissing, heavy breathing.

Mingi shifts slightly.

"Are you okay watching this?" he asks, voice low, cautious.

You scoff, barely glancing at him. "Uh, yes? I'm not a child, Song Mingi."

He laughs, head tilting. "Well, excuse me. Just making sure."

There's a beat.

Then he glances down at you again. "What are your thoughts on doing this kind of stuff… y’know, as a couple?"

You pause for a second, then answer honestly.

"Um… I don't mind, honestly. Everyone's different, right? But for me—it's about trust. It doesn't matter whether it's before or after marriage. What matters is… being safe, knowing the risks, and being sure you're with someone who respects you."

Mingi nods slowly. "Yeah. I feel the same way."

You turn your head slightly. "Have you done it before?"

That question slips out faster than you meant.

Mingi blinks.

Your eyes go wide. "Oh my god—I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make that weird. You don't have to answer—"

"No, no!" he says quickly. "It's just surprising coming from you. But nah—I haven't. I'm a virgin. And I'm not embarrassed."

You smile. “There's nothing to be ashamed of. Some people just use sex like it's a status thing. Like if you're not doing it, you're behind."

"Exactly!" Mingi grins. "It's such a stupid mindset."

He turns slightly toward you. "What about you?"

"I'm a virgin too," you admit. "But I've always been curious. Just never wanted to give that part of me to someone random. One-night stands never appealed to me."

Mingi nods, biting the inside of his cheek. "It's so weird that we both feel the same."

You squint. "Are you just saying that to get on my good side? Trying to look all respectful and boyfriend-of-the-year?"

Mingi gasps, dramatically offended. "What?! I would never! I swear I mean it!"

You elbow him lightly, both of you laughing.

Then—

"…Do you want to try it together?"

You freeze. Eyes wide. "Wait. What?"

Mingi blinks hard. "In the future!! I meant—in the future! Not now—God, Song Mingi, you're an idiot—"

You laugh. Full-on giggle that makes your shoulders shake.

Then you lean in, gently place your hand on the back of his neck, and pull him into a kiss.

It's deep. Soft. Lingering.

He stiffens slightly at first, surprised, but then relaxes—his hand finding your cheek as his lips move slowly with yours. His eyes shut. The world fades.

When you pull away, your forehead rests lightly against his.

"I trust you."

His eyes flutter open and you can see the blush rising to his ears.

You also can't help noticing the very obvious bulge forming in his pants.

You smirk.

"Are you hard just from kissing?" you tease gently.

"…Yeah," he admits shyly. "And because I love you so much, that's why."

He kisses you again, deeper this time, one hand stroking up your back, careful and slow like he's memorizing the shape of you.

And your fingers start to tighten around his shirt.

You're kissing him.

You don't remember when the shift happened—from sitting side by side, to lying down with your fingers gripping his shirt, his hand on your waist, mouths moving together slowly. But you don't care. Mingi's lips are hot, breath a little shaky, body pressing against yours like he wants to crawl inside your skin.

You moan softly when he licks into your mouth—hesitantly at first, then with more confidence as you whimper and tug at his hair. His hand slides under the back of your shirt, fingers brushing up your spine. It's slow. Careful. Nervous.

He pulls back, panting slightly. "Is… this okay?"

You nod, cheeks flushed. "Yes."

"I mean, we can stop anytime."

"I know."

He hesitates, and you see it in his eyes—nervousness, excitement, a little disbelief. You lean forward, kissing his jaw, then whisper in his ear,

"Let’s keep going."

That makes him groan.

Mingi's hands start to explore more freely—stroking your thighs, up your shirt to caress your sides, then cup your breasts over your bra. He's still tentative, like he's worried he's doing it wrong.

"Touch me," you whisper.

"I am," he says, confused.

"No—touch me for real, Mingi."

You guide his hand under your shirt, placing it over your bare skin. He swallows hard, fingers trembling just a little. When he finally cups your breast fully, brushing your nipple with his thumb over your bra, you arch into his touch with a quiet moan.

He gasps. "Holy shit…"

You laugh breathlessly. "What?"

"You feel… really good."

"You're cute when you're this overwhelmed."

"You're evil," he groans.

You switch positions slightly, tugging your shirt off and tossing it aside. He stares at your chest, clearly enchanted.

"You can touch more, you know," you tease.

"Permission granted?" he raises a brow, smiling.

"Permission granted."

His hands roam—soft kneading, lips kissing between your breasts before he pulls your bra down and takes one nipple into his mouth. You gasp, threading your fingers through his hair, while he moans against your skin.

"You're a quick learner," you mumble, breath hitching.

"Porn and imagination," he replies.

You snort. "Didn't you learn this in school?"

"Yeah," he scoffs. "As if the teacher taught us about sex positions and nipple sucking."

You both burst into laughter—even mid-makeout—and it's oddly comforting how fun this is. Messy, awkward, real.

Your hands slide down his chest, under his shirt, feeling lean muscles flexing under your touch. When you unbutton it, he lets you strip it off—his skin warm, his face flushed, his body trembling just slightly.

You reach between his legs, palm cupping the hard bulge in his pants. He jerks.

"Fuck—Y/N…"

You kiss his throat, voice low. "Wanna keep going?"

He pauses.

Then—his eyes widen. "Shit. I—I don't have a condom."

You blink. "Wait, seriously?"

"I didn't think—fuck—I'll go get one!! There's a 7-Eleven like two streets down—"

"You're gonna run to the convenience store right now??"

He's already scrambling off the couch, grabbing his t-shirt with his chest still bare. "I'll be back in ten minutes! Don't fall asleep!!"

You burst into laughter, watching him panic-shuffle into shoes and sprint out the door like a man on a mission.

12 minutes later.

He returns, slightly out of breath, holding a small plastic bag.

You arch a brow. "How many did you buy?"

"Three boxes."

"…Why?"

"I panicked!"

You're both half-laughing when you strip again, kissing between giggles, settling back into each other's arms. But this time, it's different. Calmer. More focused.

Mingi slowly pulls your shorts down, kissing your thighs, his breath hitching when he sees your panties already damp.

"Y/N…"

"Don’t be shy," you whisper.

He slides them down and tosses them aside. His fingers brush between your legs, and when he finally touches you—fingers stroking through your folds—you whimper and press into his hand.

"You're so wet," he says, awed.

"For you."

He swears softly under his breath.

You moan louder when he finds your clit, gently rubbing, unsure at first—then more confidently as your hips twitch under his touch. You reach down, palm cupping his erection through his boxers.

"You're hard again."

"Yeah. You're kinda ridiculously sexy."

You roll him onto his back and tug his pants off.

And when his boxers come down—you both freeze.

"…Oh," you blink.

"Too big?" he teases nervously.

"Guess we'll find out."

Condom's on.

You lie back, legs spread, heart pounding.

Mingi positions himself between your thighs, hands on either side of your face, eyes locked with yours.

"You sure?" he whispers.

You nod. "I trust you."

He lines himself up and pushes in slowly.

It hurts.

Not unbearable, but a deep stretch, an ache that makes your body tense.

Mingi stops instantly.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Just go slow."

He pushes in again, carefully, slowly—

And then you both freeze.

"…Is that… blood?" Mingi asks, voice rising slightly.

You look down. Just a bit. But enough.

Mingi freaks. "Oh my god. Are you okay?? Did I hurt you?!"

You put a hand on his cheek, trying not to laugh at his horrified expression. "Mingi—it's normal."

"But—are you sure? Should we stop?"

You smile. "Let’s just take a break. Five minutes. You're overreacting."

"I'm not overreacting! You're bleeding. I've seen horror movies that start like this!"

You burst into laughter, gently shoving his shoulder.

After a short pause (and a lot of overthinking from Mingi), you kiss him again—slow, soft, grounding.

"I still want to keep going," you whisper. "If you're okay."

He nods, exhaling. "Yeah. Just don't die on me."

This time when he slides in—it's easier.

Your body's more relaxed, your hands are tangled in his hair, and Mingi is whispering "so beautiful" and "you feel amazing" into your skin like it's the only language he knows.

The pace is slow, careful. You moan under him, hips rolling together, your bodies finally syncing.

He kisses your neck, your lips, your forehead. You're both sweaty and shaky and a little uncoordinated—but it's perfect.

You're his first. He's yours.

You cling to each other like the world is too small to contain what you're feeling.

And when you come—whimpering his name, shaking underneath him—Mingi follows right after, burying his face in your neck with a moan so sweet it makes your heart throb.

Afterward, you lie tangled on your couch, barely covered by the throw blanket.

Mingi's still red in the face. "I think I panicked like ten times."

You giggle. "It was cute."

"Was it… good?"

You nod, nose brushing his cheek. "It was more than good."

Mingi's breath is still a little shaky as he pulls out of you carefully, rolling the condom off and tying it, tossing it into the little trash bag beside the couch. You hiss faintly at the sudden emptiness and sensitivity.

He notices immediately.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Just sore. And… wow."

He lets out a soft laugh, brushing your hair out of your face.

"We should clean you up," he murmurs. "Don't want you to get an infection."

You nod, and he helps you sit up slowly. Your thighs are sticky, a little shaky, and you wince slightly as you stand.

"Shit," Mingi mumbles, catching you. "Are you hurting?"

"Not really. Just sore and, you know… my pussy probably looks like a war zone."

Mingi laughs, even as he scoops you up bridal-style without warning.

"MINGI—!"

"We're washing you properly, princess," he says, grinning as he carries you into your bathroom like some romcom idiot boyfriend. "Gotta take care of my girl."

He helps you sit on the toilet, then kneels in front of you, helping you clean. Every touch is gentle now—damp tissue wiping your thighs, warm water trickling slowly, his hands making sure not to rub too hard.

"Sorry if this feels weird," he mumbles.

"It doesn't," you whisper. "I like this."

He smiles at you, so soft, so genuine it makes your chest ache.

Once you're clean and dry, he carries you again—back to your bed this time, gently laying you down before slipping beside you under the blanket.

Your head rests on his bare chest, legs tangled, fingers tracing random patterns on his stomach.

Mingi shifts a little, looking down at you.

"You're so beautiful, Y/N."

You glance up, smirking. "Took you long enough to say that."

"I was busy panicking."

You both laugh.

But then he kisses your forehead.

"I'm serious," he says quietly. "You're so fucking beautiful. Your body… your heart… your whole existence. I've never felt this way before. Not even close."

You blink slowly, heart beating in your throat.

Then he murmurs—

"We're a thing now."

You grin. "We better be a thing. If not, I'll chop your dick off."

Mingi wheezes out a laugh, pulling you into a kiss. "God, I love you."

"Thank you for coming into my life." His arms tighten around you.

"No, you saved me," you say, brushing your nose against his. "Thank you for coming into mine."

You breathe in deeply, warm and full in his arms.

A few minutes later, while cuddling in silence, you shift a little.

"Mingi?"

"Mm?"

You glance up at him, playful sparkle in your eyes.

"…Should I satisfy you more?"

He blinks. "Huh??"

You smirk. "You’re still a little hard. I can feel it against my leg."

He flushes red instantly.

[i-like-loserz]

breedable

pairing: husband!san x reader

cw: explicit (18+), raging breeding-kink, unprotected sex (no condom, yes other contraceptives), cuteness/sexiness aggression (^^look AT THOSE ADORABLE PICS), not dub-con because you're not actually forcing san to have a child - its just a fantasy and san respects the responsible day dreaming -- oh, and this is NOT beta-read.

wc: 1.6k

note: reverse breeding kink turns my mind into a slushie

masterlist

---

you have a special type of aggression when it comes to your husband.

while there's the usual cuteness aggression that makes you want to pinch his cheeks and tickle him until he's a giggling mess -- or the alternative "awe-infused-aggression," that makes you want to crawl all over him and worship his body (because he's built like a god) -- but this special aggression is a mix of the two.

you call it the "i-need-to-pass-on-his-genes-with-mine" or the breeding-aggression. you see his perfect, docile face -- the cute way his brows scrunch together whenever he's feeling too much, the way his chiseled abs clench as he holds himself back -- and it sets a fire in your horny soul.

typically, when one describes a breeding kink, it involves someone wanting to impregnate the other person in an act of love and possession. of course, the other person is wholeheartedly egging them on because they, too, want to carry their baby.

in this case, however, you work hard to fuck him to get you pregnant.

you may wonder, "is that not exactly the same thing as a normal breeding kink?," which will be responded with a, "no, because san is a smart boy and he doesn't want a child at the moment -- that is, not until you're both done achieving your dreams and settled into a family-friendly environment."

san is the sensible one in the relationship, while you play the role of a feral cat in heat. he always insists on a condom or some birth control while you immediately embrace your inner horny demon and cannot go a week without begging him to fill you up like a boston cream donut.

you often think he's just playing the role of the timid damsel, begging for mercy before getting thoroughly ravished because he always ends up giving in.

at first, this obsession started with an accidental and harmless mistake.

you forgot to get condoms.

neither of you realized it until you stuck your hand into the bedside drawer, only to come up empty handed.

san, the sweetheart he is, offered to run to the store to get some. but before he could leave, you pulled him back and convinced him that one time without it wouldn't hurt. you can always take the morning after pill. right?

and you thought that was that.

but once you saw the way his cute lashes fluttered as he entered you, eyes shiny from how lost he was in the pleasure -- maybe something clicked for you. maybe.

and maybe, when you felt how his body shivered, finally feeling your warmth without any barriers, and how his cock throbbed within you, you knew this would turn into an addiction.

a dangerous one.

then when he came inside, painting your walls in his warmth before pulling out to reveal his sloppy mess, your brain chemistry became altered in a way that would change the course of desires for the rest of your life.

and then, pushing his love back in so affectionately with his fingers, eyes glazed over in awe and hunger, you knew something changed within him as well -- as much as he'd deny it. he already started to get hard again from seeing how he dripped from your perfect cunt.

and so, after that fateful night, you tried to hold back, knowing that taking the morning-after pill often wasn't healthy (and, of course, you and san weren't ready for kids yet).

this didn't stop you from imagining how his cum would feel if there wasn't a barrier between you every time you fucked. or how pretty he'd be as your baby daddy, claiming you as his own as he gives you the perfect little family.

ok, and fine, maybe you 'forgot' to buy condoms a few more times after that. and maybe you made it a habit to make him cum a few times before fucking him so he'd be a little less attentive to the missing condoms just so you can feel him gushing out of you once more.

but that's neither here nor there.

...

ok, so, maybe it was here.

and there.

here, in the house -- on the couch during movie night, on the bed in the morning, on the kitchen counter when you saw him in that cute little frilly apron he borrowed from you, in the shower when he got back from the gym.

and there, outside the house -- messily in the car(s), in a tight dressing room, spontaneously in a lake, in a utility closet at his work (don't ask) -- so you had to find a sustainable solution quickly.

it finally got to the point where you made a doctor's appointment to get on birth control because you knew you wouldn't be able to hold yourself back anymore. the pull-out method wasn't going to work for long, and you knew san was struggling to deny your whiny begs to be filled.

now, you can say whatever you want and he'll be the obedient husband that he is.

---

"cum in me, sannie..." you whisper in his ear, rolling your hips and perfectly arching your back so you can press your hot body against his. "don't you want to make me a mommy?"

you admire how his cute face scrunches up as you speed up on top of him. he's flushed a pretty scarlet, from his chiseled chest to his cheeks -- a product of your merciless teasing and edging from earlier in the evening.

"b-baby," he meets your motions smoothly, eyes squeezed shut as his body struggles to bear with the sensations of your soft heat wrapped around him. "fuck, i-i'm..."

"...you're...?" you ask, mockingly. you lightly rake your nails against the back of his neck. the action never fails to make him shiver and buck against you. you let out a short gasp as the feeling of him suddenly fully thrusting into you nearly knocks the air out of you. he's hitting that sweet sweet spot inside of you now -- and it's making you almost as delirious as the man under you.

"p-please..."

"c'mon, hubby, i wanna feel it dripping out of me," you sigh dreamily. your lips barely brush over his neck as you speak, "then you can shove it back in and make sure it keeps, right~"

"yes, yes, anything--" he mumbles, head tilted back in ecstasy. his large hands grip around your waist, guiding your body like a glorified cock sleeve, up and down his cock just right. you swear you're starting to see white spots in your vision as he continues to use your body.

you love it when he's like this. tunnel visioned and desperate to reach that explosive feeling of stuffing you full of his cum. your eyes roll back as he continues to nudge against that soft spot inside of you.

"u-uh, san..." a familiar and addictive exhilarating heat blooms from your core and proliferates through every nerve in your body before you even realize it. you bite your lip to keep you from drooling as your body starts to shake in his hold.

the shockwave of pleasure makes you clench around him, making you impossibly tight around him as he continues to thrust into you.

"fuck," he groans at the feeling of you fluttering around him. he struggles to keep up his pace as he gives into his pleasure. you can feel his abs clench against you as his hips begin to stutter to meet yours. "take it, baby. i need you to t-take it all for me."

"give it to me. i need it."

he pulls your body down and gives one last punishing snap of his hips to press himself deep inside of you as he finishes with a broken moan.

as he cums inside of you, his body trembles, overwhelmed by his orgasm, the press of your perfect body against his, the heated air surrounding the two of you, and the panted breath leaving your precious lips.

his arms wrap around you, holding you close, as he nuzzles his face against your neck, pressing soft and sweet kisses to your sticky skin.

as you both start to calm down, san lifts his face from the crook of your neck to look up at you.

"baby?" he gently brushes some hair from your face so he can get a good look at your flushed expression, "i think i'm ready." he has such a cute little smile on his face as he stares up at you with adoring eyes.

"ready?" you ask, still trying to come down from the pleasure infused fog that has settled over your mind.

"i think we should start baby-making, for real."

a silence sits in between you as you stare at him in disbelief. you weren't expecting your sensible and responsible husband to suddenly propose such a life altering idea to you.

you're suddenly pulled out from your warm post-orgasm deliriousness.

"...san. are you sure?"

he looks down at your connected bodies, at your baby-less stomach and the sticky mess that's now dripping onto his thighs. and then you feel him twitch inside of you.

oh.

"i-- yeah."

not convincing.

(at least not in the state you're in)

"yeah, no." you shake your head, fully aware of his wandering thoughts. "let's talk about this when we're fully clothed, okay."

who knew you'd be promoted to be the sensible one?

[geeky-politics-46]

NSFW Alphabet

John F. Walker (US Agent)

Smut - Explicit content - NSFW - 18+ only!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He is pretty great at aftercare, actually. He will check in with you to make sure you are okay and help clean you up. I think he's the kind of guy who would immediately shift to put himself in the wet spot so you can have the dry comfy spot without even saying a word about it. I also think he is a massive fan of cuddling after sex, even if he doesn't necessarily say it. If you try to get up to get dressed or do anything more than pee, he's immediately trying to pull you back into bed and wrapping himself around you. He likes cuddling with you completely bare against him. Especially once he's really let himself fall for you. He has missed being held and holding someone in return. He didn't even realize how much he missed it, but he did.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

I think John has a lot of things he likes about himself. I think he's very proud of his muscles. Even before the serum, he worked really hard for them. I think he likes his eyes. They are what people tend to compliment the most. I think his favorite thing, though, is his smile. He was always smiling in photos before. He sees the posters and pictures of him smiling proudly, and now, whenever he smiles, he tries to channel that confidence again. That's part of why he grew the beard. To disguise from the fact that his smile was so different now. He can never quite get the smile to go all the way up to his eyes. Until you. You brought back his genuine smile again.

In his partner, I feel like John likes the curvier bits. Hips and thighs. He likes having something to grip onto. Something that jiggles when he fucks you. Something he can cuddle into and snuggle up with. A part of him also likes the idea that you have birthing hips. He wants more kids. The caveman part of his brain immediately hones in on the fact that you are built perfectly for that. He'd be lying if he said he didn't also love leaving little bruises and marks over the soft skin of your hips and thighs. If he's eating you out he's gonna be biting your inner thighs at least a couple times. If you're on top he's holding onto your hips so tight you're gonna have fingerprints.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

At first he's very particular about only cumming in your mouth or in your pussy. After you catch him watching porn one day you find out he really has a fantasy about cumming all over your face and tits. It hadn't really been a huge turn on before, but he cums a lot now because of the serum and that makes the idea all the more appealing to him. He loves the idea of essentially marking your body. Of you letting him cover you in himself. It’s possessive and intimate all at the same time. Since he can cum multiple times in a short period thanks to the serum he will be especially over the moon if you let him cum inside you and then all over you, back to back. He'll think he's died and gone to heaven if you let him take a video of it or pictures of you afterward for when he's away on a mission. The first time cums all over your pussy he swears it could be considered art. If he's feeling romantic or his breeding kink is going full strength he just wants to cum in your pussy. Filling you up and then daydreaming about getting the second chance at the happy life with a white picket and you bouncing his babies on your hip. Except this time he won't fuck it up.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He is absolutely dying to fuck you while he's still wearing his suit. It's his biggest fantasy. He's praying you will ask him when he gets back from a mission and tends to linger before he takes it off or tries it on at random times in hopes you'll figure out what he wants. He doesn't want to ask for it, but absolutely wants it to happen. He loves that it makes him feel manly and in command. He also knows he looks pretty damn hot in it. In particular, pressed up against the wall with you hanging onto the harness for his shield or with you bent over in front of a mirror. Also he would really like it if you happened to call him Captain while he's fucking you in the suit. Actually he's gonna need to fuck you in the suit at least twice. Once with the helmet on and once without

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

I tend to believe he and Olivia were each other's first. So he has maybe only had a couple of partners. Obviously, he was with Olivia for a long time, and they have a kid, so he knows what he's doing. He's also very much an overachiever. That being said, I think the variety of his experience is pretty limited. Probably hasn't done much beyond what would be considered vanilla. That doesn't mean he's not open to it. You just may have to teach him, and he will 1000% pretend he knows all of this already, even if it is completely new. I also don't know that I see him going above and beyond to learn if you aren't doing it with him. He's got tried and true ways of getting himself off. He feels there's no need to fix it if it ain't broken.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Mating press or horizontal cowgirl with him fucking up into you instead of you doing the work. He likes positions that feel a little intense where he can press his body tight to yours and give him a lot of control over speed and depth. He's a control freak with abandonment issues. He wants to be in charge and he wants to know you aren't going anywhere until he's done with you. Mating press is his go-to on any given day. Something feels very primal about it and the way it opens you up for him, but he still gets all the benefits of missionary like being able to kiss and talk to you. Horizontal cowgirl is his pick if he's feeling a little subby. He'll let you have control at the start, let you set the pace and ride him, but by the end he's usually holding you against his chest so tight you can't move and he's busy pounding into you from the bottom. If he's had a really bad day or is really frustrated he wants it in doggy or prone. A position where he can just go to town and fuck the shit out of you.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He is a definite dork, but that definitely doesn't translate to the bedroom. He can be a smartass in both normal situations and sexy ones, but he generally considers sex to be a more serious intimate moment. It's somewhere he can let his guard down and doesn't have to hide behind his shield or his sarcasm. You get to see a side of him no one else does. A side that isn't protecting itself with sarcastic humor or hidden by ego. He almost feels like these moments between you are sacred. You get glimpses of the sweet man he was before the military really got a hold of him, and before the government decided he was a weapon to be discarded once he made them look bad. You can see why Olivia had fallen for him, and yet at the same time, you can see why him changing broke her. He has a lot of heart, he has just built up so many walls around it it's not always obvious to everyone else.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He's meticulous about it. He doesn't necessarily mean to be, but it's something harmless he can obsess over when he gets in his head. He's been told by strangers that he looks better with the beard. You kind of agree, but you tell him you'd love him either way. He keeps everything trimmed. He's not insanely hairy, just enough to feel manly to you. You love to run your fingers through the hair on his chest and tease him about how you never thought you'd be with a blonde guy and how you always liked guys with dark hair before him. The hair on his chest and his pubic hair is just a touch darker than the hair on his head. It's more the same color as his beard. He's still blonde all over, though. When you want to get frisky in the mornings, you love waking him up by letting your fingers start on his chest and slowly tease over his abdomen following his happy trail until you are stroking him. He practically starts purring when you do this.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He gets very in the moment. Totally focused on the task at hand, getting both of you off. Sometimes, he does lean more romantic. I firmly believe there is still a soft sweet hopeless romantic guy in there somewhere. He's just buried deep, and he has to trust you before revealing that side of himself. Even when it isn't overly romantic or soft, it's still very intimate and intense. As we've discussed before, he just wants so much to be good enough and not let people down. He doesn't want to let you down, and he wants to be enough for you. Even if he doubts himself, he's gonna give it everything he has every time. Even when he lets you take charge, he still will make sure that you are satisfied. I think once he falls for you, he falls hard and will do everything in his power to try and communicate how much he cares for you in bed. Sometimes he fucks you, but sometimes he full on makes love to you.

J = Jerk off (masturbation headcanon)

He jerks off a lot. Partly because of the serum, and his stamina will always outpace yours. He can jerk off in the morning and still have plenty to give you that night. Partly for stress relief. It's a good way to get his mind off something that is bothering him. You have caught him a few times. Walking in on him with some sort of porn on, his eyes closed and his hips thrusting up into his fist. It's gotten common enough at this point that you think he might like it when you catch him. Especially if you start teasing him about how needy he is. He always cums really quickly when you playfully scold him about jerking off when all he had to do was ask for your pussy and he could have had the real thing. He jerks off the most when one of you is away on a mission. In these instances he's almost always thinking of you and how he'd much rather be in bed with you moaning underneath him than stuck God knows where dealing with idiots.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Praise kink. He wants to hear how good he feels. How good he's making you feel. How big his cock is. How well he fucks you. He wants you to tell him he's pretty and that you want him more than you've ever wanted anymore. If you tell him he's a good boy he will practically spontaneously combust. He can almost cum just from your praise alone. He just wants to be loved and told he's enough, both in and out of the bedroom.

Breeding kink. He also didn't really consider this to be a kink necessarily until you mentioned it. Humans are supposed to procreate, right? Isn't everyone turned on by the idea of breeding their partner? He didn't really dirty talk that much until you started encouraging him to say those thoughts out loud. Now, there are days where all he can think about is knocking you up. How sexy you would look with a pregnant belly and swollen breasts. Talking about cumming in you over and over until you are leaking him for days and your body has no choice but to give him a kid.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Not a fan of PDAs, so he definitely prefers the bedroom. He's not opposed to other places for quickies, though. He likes being in a safe place with you where he can really let his guard down. Let his mind and body relax and indulge. The place he's most comfortable doing that is in one of your bedrooms. He also really likes to cuddle after sex, but he will never admit it out loud. That's much easier to play off as “making you comfortable” in bed. That being said if one of you, or both of you, have been on a long mission he's not opposed to fucking you the first place he can get you alone. Especially if he's still wearing his suit, as we discussed earlier. At least one team member has almost walked in on you in a closet or bathroom or something. There was also an incident on the jet that made Yelena consider pouring bleach in her eyes.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Praise and genuine affection. At this point, he's so used to everybody either taking the piss out of him or treating him like dirt. If you actually treat him kindly he'll follow you like a puppy. He's not used to soft things anymore, and it makes his mind spin a little when you don't immediately start making jokes at his expense. We've all agreed this man desperately craves praise both in and out of the bedroom. If you want to get him going, all you have to do is hold him close and whisper in his ear how sexy he looks or how good he did on a mission or in an interview. If you think to call him Captain or Agent, his knees will go a little wobbly. I also think he's a very visual guy. So you in his shirt or any sort of lingerie, doesn't matter if it's something fancy or just a silky nightie, will get his blood flowing south pretty quickly

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Swinging or watching you with someone else is a non-starter. This man can get very possessive. He doesn't even like it when someone else flirts with you, even if its a mutual friend. He sure as shit isn't gonna let someone else fuck you. I also see him as being a pretty faithful guy. I dont even think hes the kind of guy who would be into strip clubs if he has a hot woman he loves waiting at home. He doesn't want anyone else so the idea of swinging is a hard pass. He would feel like he was cheating even if it was something you both agreed to. He's not very kinky. So I see a lot of freakier stuff being a turn off for him. Handcuffs and spanking? He'll figure it out. Whips and chains or full on BDSM? Nope. Not for him. Also not a fan of weapons play in the bedroom. That's a part of his life he'd rather keep separate from sexy time. I don't think he'd be into exhibitionism or voyeurism either. Unless it's just you and him watching each other. That he can get into.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

If you ask him, he'll definitely tell you he prefers to be the one receiving. He loves how you work him so well. How manly he feels when you are on your knees focusing on his pleasure. He loves when you moan around his cock like he's the most delicious treat you've ever had. He's particularly sensitive when you start licking and sucking on his balls. He can't keep himself from fucking your throat when you look up at him while you take his whole cock in your mouth and suck.

However, the way he eats your pussy, you have a sneaking suspicion he actually prefers to be the one giving. His eyes never leaving your cunt and his mouth working overtime to bring you to climax. He wants you pulling his hair and grinding against his face. It's not uncommon for him to leave hickeys on your inner thighs almost every time you have sex. He gets so into it he ends up humping the bed more often than not. For a guy who says he's not that crazy about eating pussy, he eats it like his life depends on it.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Let's just say if you share a wall with anyone, you will be hearing a lot of complaints from them. On occasion, he can be slow and romantic. Long and deep thrusts. Talking to you the whole time. Fingers interlocked with yours. Lots of kissing. More often, though the super soldier serum and the way he tends to hold onto his emotions leads to rougher sex or at the very least faster thrusting on his part. He gets too into it to be slow. Even if he tries to start slow, by the end the bedframe is creaking, and the drywall behind the headboard is starting to crumble. He's broken at least one bedframe so far, and he's stupidly proud of it. You were slightly mortified when you had to explain to Val how your bed had been completely demolished and that you needed a new one. Perhaps a reinforced one. John just sat there with a big stupid grin on his face the whole time. Also, as mentioned in my headcanons, this has led to a bruised cervix at least once or twice. Or, at the very least, you are walking and sitting very awkwardly for a couple of days.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He's absolutely down for a quickie. Especially since with the serum, he's good to go for multiple rounds. At the start of your relationship, he's pretty insatiable. So quickies are a must. If you are alone on a mission together, as soon as the work is done he's pulling you away for a quickie. He does generally prefer not to have to rush his time with you, but he will absolutely never turn down a quickie. Especially if he's a bit upset or frustrated, a quickie is a great way to get him in a better mood. The team immediately calls on you when he's being extra bitchy. He does tend to get a really dopey smile on his face afterward that always gives it away to anyone who knows him though.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He's not opposed to trying some new things, but he does like being in his comfort zone and knowing exactly what is going to happen. This is part of why he leans towards constantly being the dominant one. He will try new positions without any hesitation. New surfaces? It depends on where they are and the variables around privacy. Toys or role-playing or anything he'll have a little bit more hesitation with, and you will probably need to bring them up multiple times before he agrees to try them. Eventually, he will probably give in. Especially if the role play you want to do is him as a star quarterback and you as a cheerleader. He also won't take the risk of sex interfering with a mission. Even if it's just the two of you alone in a secluded safe house, he won't give into his urges or yours until the work is done. Once the mission is completed, he'll take you the first chance he gets, but he takes too much pride in his job to let anything else come first.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He's a super soldier. His stamina is off the charts. He doesn't necessarily worry about making each round last a long time because he knows he will be able to go multiple. It's also probably the first time he's really getting to test what the serum has done to him in the bedroom. Somedays, he's probably gonna wanna test how many rounds he can go. Somedays, he's gonna wanna see how long he can last before cumming. He isn't gonna push you past your limits though. Once you tap out he's probably done. He'd rather save the energy for you than exert it by himself when he could be taking care of you… unless you really want him to. We know he is probably very eager to please. You want to watch him or talk him through what you want him to do, he'll put on the best show for you he can. That happens fairly often, actually.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He knows you have them, and he's not gonna stop you from using them, but he's not crazy about them. If he's on a mission, then sure, go ahead and use them on yourself. Especially if you are thinking about him while using them. He knows that he shouldn't be threatened by them, and he's slowly coming around to your bullet vibrator. Especially after you showed him you could use it on him during a blowjob. He still generally lets you be the one to bring it up, and you be the one holding it. Anything bigger or more phallic he's still not sure about. We know he has insecurities around being enough. That would apply to comparing himself to your toys too. If you have a realistic looking dildo he doesn't really want to know about it, even if it's to send him a naughty video while he's away. Maybe someday, a part of his brain is very curious, but he's more worried about how he will start to compare himself to the toy after he sees you cumming from it.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He does like to tease. He gets off on you begging for him. He needs you to nerd him. So he will tease you until you are pleading for him. Biting and licking at your thighs and the creases of your hips until you are gripping his hair and trying to push his face into your cunt. Letting his fingers dance around your clit without making direct contact or circling your entrance painfully slowly. Using just the tip of his cock until you are writhing and crying for more. His patience for being teased is not great though. Sometimes he loves it, but if he's having a bad day he will pout and whine if you try to tease him. Ultimately reminding you that he is a super soldier and can stop your little game whenever he wants. You know when he says this he's giving you a warning that he's at the end of his rope.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Just like when he fights, there's lots of grunting, growling, and snarling during sex. Baring his teeth when he gets close to climax. He doesn't even realize all the noises he's making when he gets really into it. He will also encourage you to praise him at every turn. Asking if something he's doing feels good or if you like how he feels inside you. He's not a screamer, but he's certainly not quiet in the bedroom. He loves hearing you talk to him during sex. So he may not talk at length, but he will encourage you to be as elaborate and filthy as you can. Give him directions and feedback. Overwhelm all of his senses. Make him forget everything but how he's making you feel with every deep thrust of his cock or lick of his tongue.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Would absolutely love his partner to do a striptease for him or give him a lap dance. This man craves attention. Having all your attention on him as you put on a naughty little show for him is a dream come true. The thought of you slowly taking off your clothes and wiggling around naked in his lap just for his enjoyment makes him downright giddy. It's an extra boost to his ego if you get aroused and wet doing this for him. He won't really ask you to do this for him, but he will be happy as a clam if you come up with the idea. If you take a pole dance class with the girls for shits and giggles, he will ask to see what you learned with a cheeky grin on his face. He knows you can't say no when he smiles at you like that. Although be warned, there is no way he's keeping his hands to himself during the lap dance portion. At the very least, he's gripping onto your hips or fondling your breasts. By the end of the song, he'll probably have his fingers inside you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

The serum didn't really change much here. He didn't completely change size like Steve or get a ton more muscle mass like Bucky. When he's soft, he's the same size he always was. Average. It's not huge, but not small. Like most men, he probably wishes he was a little bigger, but he's not unhappy with it. He was pleasantly surprised the first time he got hard after taking the serum that he was about an inch longer and a bit thicker than he was before. I definitely think he has measured to confirm this. He knows that you don't know that the serum did this, but it's probably come up during foreplay that you are getting the bigger post-serum version of him. You tell him you would have been happy with either version, but he's really proud of it now. He also leaks a lot more pre-cum now than he used to. It has made his alone time better, no need for extra lube, and if you like it, he's even happier about it. Bringing your hand to stroke him through his underwear. Ready to have you feel how wet you get him. How much you turn him on.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

I feel like he's got massive pent-up energy and has probably been denying himself a lot of things since the events of Falcon and The Winter Soldier. Sex and human touch in general included. I think it's gonna be like shaking a soda can then popping the top. He's literally going to explode once you ceack the seal. He will not be able to get enough. Between his super soldier stamina and all the repressed emotions and energy, you'll be spending a lot of time with him inside you. You are an outlet for his emotions. After one or both of you has been on a mission plan on keeping your schedule completely open for the next day. He feels like he's borderline addicted to fucking you.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It takes him a while to fall asleep. He also sometimes has nightmares about his experiences as a soldier. So even when he's asleep, it's not necessarily restful. He will always wait until you fall asleep before he lets himself fall asleep. He just feels like he can protect you better that way. Holding you however you need him to and just lay there thinking about things. Sometimes, he gets too into his own head to sleep. He likes having some sort of background noise on. Usually some movie or sitcom. Sometimes, he will just lay there and watch you sleep, the tempo of your breathing like a metronome lulling him to sleep himself. He does generally sleep more soundly if you are there next to him. I can also see him being a giant teddy bear who likes to cuddle you close as he falls asleep and when he wakes up. There have been times you've woken up unable to move because a certain super soldier has you pinned to the mattress in his sleep.

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

John Walker taglist: @sareim123122 @witchygagirl

Back to main masterlist

[revelboo]

I had terrible PPD when my son was born. It was so bad that I was almost hospitalized. I lied through my teeth to get out of it, because I didn't want to leave my son. But man, that crying did something to me.

May I request a scenario where reader and Megatron both get PPD? As always, you don't have to if you don't wanna. Thank you!

P.S. We all survived. The baby will be 18 soon. :)

Sure- I can only imagine that would be particularly stressful if they won’t stop crying

Stress

TFP Megatron x Reader

• “Please, please stop,” you whisper, sitting crosslegged on the berth with your son in your arms, rocking him and yourself as you curl forward around him. And his venting is hitching noisily as he wails and he’s been at it so long, he’s rasping now, optics squeezed shut and tiny servos curled in fists. It’s you. It must be you, you’re failing him. Not cut out for this as the anxiety cranks higher until you’re crying, too. Bent forward over him sobbing. “I’m trying.”

• Freezing when he lets himself into the habsuite and he’s greeted with his sparkling screaming, his jaw clenches. Half tempted to just go right back out, because he can’t take that spark wrenching noise. And you look up, eyes red and tears running down your face. Sees the fear and panic in your eyes, the way your shoulders hunch and it’s like a physical blow that you act like you think he’s about to yell at you. Head lowering as your shoulders tremble, tears dripping on his son’s head as you cup the sparkling to you and Megatron crosses the floor, mass shifting to join you. Doesn’t know what to do with this, how to fix it, both of you sobbing brokenly. Hurting. Reaches for you and you flinch, still not looking at him. Do you really think he’s that much of a monster? Except, that is how he’s acted, isn’t it?

• Wails faltering into hiccuping chirps and ragged hisses as soon as your son spots Megatron, you go limp and docile as he sits and drags you into his, his thighs on either side of you. Because the only time he’s not screaming is when he’s hissing at his big, asshole sire. Everything about this wrong. You’d loved your son the second you’d held him in your arms, but you feel like you’re failing him. That’s why he’s screaming, it’s you. It has to be you. “He won’t stop,” you whisper, sobbing as Megatron’s chin brushes your head and you hang onto his arm.

• Almost resents his own sparkling, almost despises him for hurting you like this, because you faced him head on. Never backed down even when you were scared, but this is breaking you and he doesn’t know how to fix it. Hears his son hissing and clearing his vents in little coughs, upset and stressed. And you’re crying, holding the sparkling and shaking against him. “I can’t do this,” you sob and he presses his mouth against the top of your head.

• Need him, need the warmth of that little frame against you. Those little servos clinging to your fingers or Megatron’s harness. But you feel like you’re unraveling every time he cries and you don’t know how to make it better. Shouldn’t you just know? Instead you’re struggling, depressed and anxious and failing him. And Megatron’s arms come around you even as your son warbles his distress and your big mate is rocking you, cheek sliding against your own. “We’ll figure this out,” he growls, voice gruff as your son’s face crumples and he wails even louder.

[whore-ibly-hot]

'Spoil your appetite.'

Yan!Deliquent x Fem!Reader x Yan!Stoner

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Innocence user, dub-con thieving, threesome, description of bodily fluids, oral, Afab body parts, panty stealing.

AN: Okay, maybe it took more than a few hours, but I DID IT! Been burnt out but pushed through.

"Alright, uh... cinnamon next?" The dark haired boy calls; focusing on the heavily crumpled piece of paper before him. "Pez?"

"Hm?" Pez, ever the distracted delinquent, look towards his friend from his spot by the kitchenette window, where he's currently venting his cigarette smoke out into the open air. "Shit, yeah. Here ya go'." He slaps the small plastic bottle into the hand of his long time friend. "What are we making again?"

"Just cinnamon rolls. Didn't feel like the canned ones, but I'm like..." Tyler zones out for a second before shaking his head, high from earlier clinging to him. "Hella craving some pastry, you know? Feel like a pregnant chick. Maybe I am pregnant..."

"We've got bigger problems than you having cravings if you're fucking pregnant." Pez snickers, getting a laugh from his friend, whose now slathering a buttery paste onto the laid out pastry. "I'm not paying child support if that's what you're after. Just cause you're a fatass doesn't mean you can say you're pregnant."

"What are you looking at, man? You're locked in over there." Tyler calls over his shoulder.

"Who do you think?" Pez looks over at his friend with a grin, causing Tyler to pause, brushing the flour from his hands onto a beat up apron as he quickly makes his way to the rickety windowsill.

"Sweet. The babe." Tyler says, head bobbing along like there's some music only he can hear. Pez nods as well, taking a hot drag from his cancer-stick and exhaling into the crisp fall air just beyond. Running a hand over his freshly shaved buzzcut, scratching slightly, he lets out a groan. "She uh... likes sweets, yeah? Sweet treat for a sweet thing."

"Work your magic, dude. Lemme get these in the oven." He fist bumps his friend before sliding into a dorky handshake and shoulder slap, as Tyler snuffs out his cigarette. 'Don't want wonder boy up my ass about smoking...' he thinks, entering the hallway with an empty hand.

Stepping out onto the campus, crisp leaves crunch under black combat boots as the punk glances around, moving like a slick predator towards its prey. "Hey, hot stuff. Saw you looking a little lonely over here, bet you're getting cold-"

Before the voice even registers, the hand on your ass does, making you sigh, but smile as you look over your shoulder at the punk standing behind the tree you're leaned up against. "Nope, I've got plenty of layers on, I'm a-okay." You retort, motioning to your outfit.

"Whoo-" He let's out a whistle, nodding his head in approval and playfully slow clapping. "Very nice. Not that I wouldn't mind taking some of those layers off, getting up under them." He snickers at the way your face flushed.

"Perv!" You retort, playfully smacking his shoulder. "Come on, first you're afraid I'm too cold and now you're trying to get me naked!"

"I'm a selfish man, what can I say." He shrugs before coming around the tree fully to face you. "I'm serious though, cute outfit. Suits you..." He looks over it once more. "Cmon, do a spin f' me." He encourages.

From the way he looks, you realize he won't let up. "Fine, but only one." It does make you feel good, doing this little twirl for him. This is one of your favorite outfits, and guys like Carter and Evan don't exactly appreciate you for your style as much as your... assets. "Picked it out from the thrift."

"And thrifty, financially responsible is so hot on you." He pokes your shoulder, hand coming to fiddle with the necklace on your collar.

"Didn't take you for the frugal type?"

"I'm fucking poor; just cause I'm at a rich school doesn't mean I have funds." He reminds. "I grew up knowing how to save money, and I can appreciate when someone tries, even if they don't have too." Staightening up, he shoves his hands in the pockets of his black jeans. "My offer to warm you up still stands. Got Pez back at the dorm making cinnamon rolls. Unless you'd prefer another way for me to get you all hot."

You just roll your eyes, but nod. "Sure. I'd be an idiot to say not to Pez's food."

"Exactly. I didn't wanna say it, but you know..." He wraps a lanky arm arm around your shoulders as he guides you back into the brick building; playfully kissing your head as he holds open the dorm door. "Ladies first."

Once upstairs, you're greeted with the sight and smell of freshly baked cinnamon rolls, a pleasant change from the usual lingering of various kinds of smoke and vapor that usually cling to the rooms walls and carpets. "Hey, what's up, man? Just got the rolls in the oven." Tyler calls, happy as ever. He's always a breath of fresh air around the campus, just the sight of him in his element makes both you and Pez smile.

"Good to see you too, Ty." You coo, going to wrap him in a one arm hug before letting out an 'oof-' as he bear hugs you against him, practically curtaining your torso in his long hair. "Smells amazing."

"Thanks, new shampoo-"

"The cinnamon rolls."

His tan cheeks flush a deep red as his roommate, now spread out across the couch and watching the pair with a vouyeristic interest, snickers. "Smooth moves, X-lax. Tell her you bought new boxers cause you heard she-" You find yourself immediately pushed closer to the oven, Tyler trying to drown out his friends words.

"Uh, yeah, so it's a recipe I got forever ago off some box, thought I could make it special, spice it up." He keeps on rambling, and you cast a confused glance to a rather pleased looking Pez, whose lighting up another cig. "I honestly forgot about the recipe, actually it went through the wash in my pants pocket, but when I found it and it made it through I though, 'Shit, must be fate!' So I decided to make em'."

"Well; everything you make is good; so I'm excited." You assure, making him smile.

"Thanks, I like sharing everything with you."

"Hey, babe." Pez calls. "Still got a bit of time on those cinnamon rolls, come here and let me keep my promise." He runs a hand up and down the lap fabric of his pants. You opt to sit on the couch beside him, and Pez follows suit.

"Three's company, huh? A threesome off the table?"

"Gross!" You chirp, laughing and shaking your head.

"Don't be a prude. You know I think you're hot, so does everyone else at this fuckin' school. I know you're getting some on the side, its cool." He puts a hand to his chest. "I'm sex positive, man." Pez assures.

"A lot more than just positive." Tyler says, fistbumping his pal.

You on the other hand, have gone quiet, sighing a bit. "I mean, not really."

This gives both boys pause. "Not really? You mean you aren't getting any or-" Tyler starts, before Pez shakes his head.

"Nah, that ain't it. Not at all." He's a shark whose smelled blood in the water, and slinks closer to you, leaning in. "You've never gotten any, huh? You're a virgin."

Awkwardly, you nod. "It's not something I really advertise, its kinda humiliating. And with all the sex jokes you make I just didn't know how to respond. Didn't even know if it would be weird to tell you guys?"

"Eh. Maybe for a normal friend group, but that's not us." He shrugs. "I'm... I'm sorry if I freaked you out or anything." For a moment, you see a side of Pez you hadn't seen before. An unsure, regretful side. Tyler pats his shoulder. "I mean, I assumed you had done all that stuff before. If I had ever though you were uncomfortable I never would have-"

"I know. It's okay, its not like you ever forced me into something, and you knocked it off when I asked." You assure. "I know you aren't the type of guy to do pressure me or anything. I trust you guys." You nod fervently, and Tyler relaxes.

"Good, cool. So... you ever tried? I mean, getting down and dirty?"

"No, I've just never felt comfortable." You explain awkwardly. "I mean, some of the guys around here-" You cut yourself off, looking at your folded hands.

"Yeah. I get it, we get it." Tyler assures. "I mean, you're a total babe, you deserve a good first time. With good guys." He pauses. "Or chicks, if that's what you're into."

"Love to see that." Pez let's put an oof as Tyler smacks his shoulder. "Come on. I'm just messing around. We could give you a good time. Great time even, we're your friends. I mean, it's probably better to do it with people you trust."

He has a point. "I've... I wouldn't even know where to start." You admit, only to feel a calloused, cold touch on your cheek.

"We'll make it simple, first kiss?" He asks.

You shake your head. He let's out a small 'tch', and Tyler dramatically pretends to slump over in defeat. "You're both dorks." You giggle, already a bit eased by the tension.

"Maybe I'm just greedy. Wanted every first of yours." Pez jokes, eyes still fixated on your lips. He doesn't ask, but he is gentle when he presses his chapped lips to yours, sighing softly. You're taken a bit by suprise, but its not bad. He's actually quite soft about the whole thing. More than you would have thought.

"Can I take off your shirt?" You feel warm breath on your ear, as Tylers hand clumsily feel around the front of your torso while Pez continues his affectionate gesture. You can only nod, and he grins, managing to get your school shirt off.

"Pretty rack." Pez comments as he pulls off your lips, immediately more interested in what's now presented.

"What happened to you being all soft? It was kinda sweet..." you joke, though inside you do have a craving for that slow, gentle affection.

"That's what I'm here for. It's all about balance, dude." Tyler says, resting his head on your shoulder from behind, placing a few soft kisses to your skin. "We both got you."

You let out a sharp gasp as the sudden feeling of a digit on your sensitive nipples, looking down to see Pez has expertly lifted one of your breasts over your bra, teasing the pert pink bud. "Feel weird? I heard some girls don't even like having their nipples played with." He muses. "Seems like you're just fine with it, though."

You continue to let out little mewls and moans as the scratchy fabric of your lace bra is slipped off, Tyler undoes it to give his friend better access. You can feel a hardness press against your back, only adding to the heat of the new sensations.

"That... uh, that you, Tyler?" You ask, glancing over your shoulder.

He nods sheepishly, his hand intertwined with yours, a comforting gesture. "Yeah, is... that okay? I know me rubbing my stiffy on you is already a lot, we'd said we would ease you into this, but seeing you all tits out and flushed, you don't get how hard it is." He groans.

Smiling at the idea that you're having just as much of an effect on them as they are you, you lean back against Tyler's chest. "Is... what do I do to help you with it?"

Before Tyler can even suggest something, Pez has yanked his head up from your tits. "Suck him."

"Jesus, man- you're way to eager for that-" Tyler snickers, prompting his friend to shamelessly shrug. "It's a good way to ease her in. She makes you feel good, as a reward for making her a sweet treat. And-" He leans in, nose almost brushing yours. "I'm not a huge pastry guy, so since you're making my boy here feel so good, maybe you let me fill up on something else, too."

You barely have time to register what he's asking before he's tugging down your shorts, placing a hot kiss over the fabric of your panties. "Pretty pair. You know, I've always thought a chick in my boxers would be kinda hot. You like blue?"

You're distracted by the sight of Tyler sliding himself over the waistband of his shorts. He's thin, lanky like the rest of him, with a pretty reddish tip. He strokes his hand over the base, grunting once or twice as he gets himself fully hard. "It's kinda cool, huh? I mean, the way it kinda moves and stuff-"

"Weird ass thing to say while I'm trying to get ready to eat her out. Stop talking about your dick." Pez snaps, looking up. Tyler raises his hands in defeat, looking back down to you.

"Alright, man, you still wanna try this?" Pez asks. You nod, sitting up a little, while Pez maneuvers himself to kneel on the floor, still practically making out with your thighs, but not quite the area you need it. "I want to. To... make you feel good, because of all you've done for me." You mumble.

"Hey, we'd take care of you even if we didn't have sex. You're our dude, dude." He adjusts himself, his tip nearing your cheek. "So, just kinda start with a kiss, maybe. One on the very edge, ah-" He lurches as you follow his instructions. "Yeah, just like that. Now, maybe try and put just a little in your mouth. And be sure to go slow, don't hurt your mouth or anything." Your mouth feels heavy as you take a bit of him between your lips. He has no distinct taste, but all you feel is the overwhelming heat and weight of him. You flatten your tongue to the underside of his cock, trying your best to avoid using teeth.

"Fuck, yeah. Just like that. Okay, uh, maybe just try sucking a bit, if you're, ugh- if you're ready." He grunts. You try taking him in a little deeper, before moaning suddenly and gagging. Pez had pulled your panties to the side, resulting in a soft kiss directly on your sex, a red hot feeling that completely shocks you.

"Ach-" you cough a big from having gagged, immediately pulling your mouth from Tyler's cock. "Agh, sorry, I-"

"Shit, you okay man? Did I push you too much?" Tyler asks, immediately putting his hands on your shoulders. "Just try swallowing a few times, focus on breathing."

"I think she's was just caught off guard by how good it felt to get her pussy kissed-" Pez laughs, making Tyler glare.

"Aw man, you meant to make her gag! That's not cool, she's learning."

Pez rolls his eyes. "Maybe we should just focus on letting her get through what I'm about to do then. If you're gonna be Mr. safety patrol, then just watch and jerk off."

"I can keep going-" You swallow, throat a bit harsh. "I promise i can give it another go. I want to make you feel good, Pez. Please." You feel like you're begging, but you're caught up in feeling 'even'.

"Not if you don't want to, man. I'm gonna play with my dick, let Pez kiss you. We can cuddle, that's good enough for me. Promise." Tyler moves so you're a bit more pressed to his chest, snuggling down.

Nodding, you lean back against him, and Tyler wraps one hand around his cock, and the other goes to Pez, threading his fingers in his hair.

"Fuck you touching me for, I don't need a guide." Pez says, glancing up.

"I don't trust you to not get to intense, especially after that, dude. You're a horndog." Tyler warns, and Pez rolls his eyes, but doesn't object any further. You shiver, as Tyler slowly guides Pez's lip to just over your clit. "Kiss it, dude."

The electric feeling of stimulation on your clit makes you jolt. "A-ah, Pez, that feels so weird."

"Good weird?" Tyler asks, as Pez continues. You nod fervently, and he smiles. "Yeah. Relax though, you're all tensed up. I've gotcha, I'm holding you." His own hand is lazily stroking his cock, wet slaps sounding from by his thighs. "I know I'm just beating it over you, but it still kinda romantic. I think." He rambles.

You're eyes are stuck on Pez, he's lapping like a man starved at your pussy, ocasionally pulling back to nip at the soft flesh of your thighs, when Tyler's hand allows. He swirls over your bud once, causing your leg to flinch, a fluttering bursting in your stomach.

"Ah- fuck- Pez, Ty, somethings happening, ah-" Tyler just kisses the back of your neck again. "I think I'm cumming."

Pez makes one last lewd slurp, tasting some of your wetness, before Tyler releases his grip and let's him back up. "Course you did, I'm a master with my mouth." He doesn't even give you time to recover before he's trying to get your mouth on his. "Cmon, baby, taste yourself on me, taste how sweet you were for me."

You kiss him, face hot and semi-grossed out but so tired and needy you just go with the flow. Pez's hand comes to grip your ass, then jolts as it brushes something hard. "Gross, keep your dick away from my hand, Ty." Pez snickers. "Maybe some other time I'll want something savory and we'll see."

Tyler barely glances at him, continuing to whimper as he gets closer to his peak. "My dick isn't near your hand, man, your hand is near my dick." He grunts. "I'm getting close, mmh, can I cum on you, man?"

"Fuck no-"

"Not you, MAN!" Tyler squawks, and you playfully push Pez off. He just holds his hands up in surrender and lays back to enjoy the show. "Obviously I meant you." Tyler says. He rubs his erection on your thigh, now half stroking and half humping to get him over the edge. "Please," He whispers. "Please, please, please, let me finish on you. It's gonna feel a bit weird but I'll clean you up after, get you all fresh-"

"It's okay." You mumble, squirming a bit, the wetness between your thighs still sticky. "I trust you, I-I do." He just smiles, bucking a few more times, just until his cock twitches. "Fuck!" A few thick ropes of cum land on your leg, and he pants as he leans back against the worn out couch, pressing your back to his chest.

"So fucking good. Was that good for you?" Tyler asks, and you nod.

"Nuh-uh. Words, baby." Pez chimes in, tilting his head as he leans in. "Come on. I wanna know we didn't overwhelm you during your first time?" The silence is heavy. His tone is light, but its obvious both boys are deeply concerned with your wellbeing after all that.

"It was good. Really good, I'm just worn out." You mumble, before boldly kissing Tyler's cheek. He smiles, using his clean hand to push your forehead to his lips. "Anytime, dude. You looked so fuckin' hot." The seriousness with which he says this makes you blush, only to hear a 'pbllllt' from next to you. Turning, you see Pez with his arms crossed.

"I'm the one who actually got down there and ate you like a three course meal, you gonna give me a kiss?" He only asks, half joking. Both of you snicker, and Tyler pushes you over, chest to chest with Pez. "Clean her up?" He asks.

"You got it." Pez slings his arm around your waist. "Cmon, baby. Let's get you all stripped and in the bath and then maybe I'll finally get to jerk it." He snickers, making you playfully smacking him as you wander into the bathroom, away from where Tyler is washing his hands and checking on the pastry. He goes to resch for his apron, and feels something in the pocket, a rough feeling.

When his hand emerges with a lilac pair of lace, he pales. "Shit," He quickly hides it inside a nearby pillowcase, sighing. "Gotta tell him to wash that stuff separately, shit..."

[slushycoookie]

Lack of Patience (18+) ~ Ryomen Sukuna x Fem! Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Content: True Form! Sukuna. Modern era. Reader has a nipple piercing and Sukuna is very impatient. The man has tiger tendencies. Vaginal fingering. Oral sex (Male receiving). P in V. Minors DNI!

A/N: This was supposed to be a flash fic and then...that didn't happen so enjoy!

“Ah, fuck!”

Your face scrunches up when your nipple grazes the refrigerator handle. A rush of pleasurable pain flows through your body as you freeze to get yourself together. And to see if there's footsteps.

You were influenced by your friends to follow through on a nipple piercing you talked about for years. You wanted to get it done, but there were a lot of factors. The needle, the healing process, the jewlery. There’s a lot that came with an intimate piercing. Your friends weren’t buying it, hence why you randomly got it done one day.

You also didn't tell Sukuna.

Not because you were afraid of what he was going to say about it. It's because you know what he's going to do once he sees it. Grab all on you with his gigantic hands. Fiddle with it like it's a toy. All while having this sadistic smirk that you love so much.

You've been doing your best to hide it from him, even if that means missing out on his famous baths, but it's worth it for your husband not to find out yet.

“Wife.” He calls from the other room, “You exclaimed.”

“I'm fine!” You quickly say, maneuvering so you don't hit your nipple a second time. “I just knocked my finger against the door.”

That wasn't a good enough answer when heavy footsteps occur. You scramble to act natural by drinking the lemonade you grabbed when your gigantic man comes in the kitchen.

“Let me see your finger.”

“No.” You hold your hand close to your chest, “I'm fine. Go back to the living room.”

“You are a clumsy oaf. I will not allow you to injure yourself.”

“What did you just call me? I just said I’m-”

Sukuna doesn’t take no for an answer when he grabs your hand to examine it. He squints at the sight of your uninjured finger. “You did not damage it.”

“You don’t listen.” You snatch your hand away, “I told you I’m fine.”

He grunts, but doesn’t move away. The hard stare from him makes you break eye contact, going back to sipping on your drink.

“What?”

“You are hiding something from me.”

“What makes you think that?”

“You hardly fake an injury. If it’s to capture my attention, you already have it. There’s no need to go to such extremes.” Sukuna folds his arms, muscles practically bulging against the black t-shirt. “Tell me what’s going on.”

You start chewing on your straw, “Nothing.”

“You know better than to lie to me.”

It’s that harmless threat that makes your knees buckle. You weren’t sure how you were going to keep hiding your piercing for much longer. You were running out of ideas.

“If I show you, you can’t touch.”

Sukuna’s brows furrow in confusion, “I do not understand.”

“Just promise me.”

“Fine. I will not touch.”

You ignore his exaggerating huff when you pull away from the counter. Sukuna’s eyes flicker with intrigue when you pull up your baggy shirt right above your breasts. To see the new addition on your body.

“You have decorated your nipple with jewelry.”

“It’s just a simple barbell for now, but yes.”

“And you thought to hide this from me?”

Your lips pursed, “Yes.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

“Elaborate.” You motion to the fact that he hasn’t taken his eyes off of the piercing. Plus, his hands are flexing during each minute he remains on you. “You say this as if I cannot control myself.”

“Then why are you coming closer?”

You step back when Sukuna takes two steps forward. He huffs, having the audacity to be annoyed at your caution. “I wish to examine up close.”

“You can when I’m properly healed.”

“And how long will that take?”

“A while. Some people say six weeks. Others say a few months.”

Sukuna throws his arms up, “Let me use my technique to heal you.”

“No! I don’t want to use jujutsu for something as simple as this.” You put your shirt back down and with it your husband became more whiny. “Let this heal naturally, please.”

“You’re being impossible.”

“You’re being impatient.”

“I can’t revel in my wife’s new decoration?”

“Not if you’re acting like this.”

You grab your glass, going back to the living room to finish watching TV. Sukuna moves to appear in front of you, stopping you in your tracks.

“Let me see it again.”

“You know what it looks like. And you’re gonna touch it as soon as I pull up my shirt.”

“I will not. Don’t be difficult.”

“Sukuna-”

“I wish to see it again.”

“What did I just say?”

“I heard what you said, now let me see-”

“Okay!” You settle your drink down on the counter, some of it splashing on your hand. “No sex. Not until my piercing heals enough for you to touch.”

You might as well told him to jump off a cliff. The incredulous look on his face changes into disdain. Yeah, you just forbade the King of Curses from getting any. There is some power to being his wife.

Although, you’re sure you’ve made things worse. Because Sukuna wouldn’t stop bugging you about it.

Whenever you’re around in your home, he’s not too far away. Eying you, pacing the room like a tiger waiting to strike. His imposing frame, dark, red eyes never leaving you. If you weren’t married to him, this might have scared you a little.

Your piercing is all that he wants to talk about. If it hurt, why you didn’t let him come with you when you got it done, how often you have to clean it, etc. You know he was born in the Heian era, but he’s acting like he’s never seen a piercing before.

You lost count at how many times Sukuna has demanded you to show him again. With the straightest face in the world. Sometimes you ignore him and go back to doing what you were doing. Other times, you indulge him.

Your eyes never leave his face when you pull up your shirt. All four red eyes on your jewelry like cat staring at something it wants. With his arms close to his sides.

“The taste must be metallic.” He guesses.

“Did you forget about my metal allergy?” You suck your teeth when he doesn't respond, “Why are you imagining how it would taste?”

“You have denied intercourse from me until you heal. I want to have this.”

You shook your head, “Fine. It might taste like metal. They gave me surgical steel.”

You angle your breast for him to get all sides, as if he wanted to see the inner workings of it.

“Why did you not get the other done? It's asymmetrical.”

“I wasn't sure how I'd react with this one…”

Sukuna still doesn't leave your breast, not until you were tired of holding up your shirt.

“How long until I can touch?”

“Two more weeks.”

And what a long two weeks it was. For Sukuna. His constant moaning and grunting annoyed you to no end.

You didn’t realize you hit the two week mark when you woke up one morning, slowly climbing out of your bed and to your bathroom. Where you were met with the torso of your man. Your face directly against his pectorals.

“It’s time.”

“Good morning to you too.”

“It has been six weeks.”

You yawn, “Oh yeah. I guess you can touch now.” Sukuna pulls up your shirt which makes you squeal in surprise. “Baby, wait! You want to do this right now?”

“Yes.” He reaches for you again, but you put your hands up in protest.

“Hold on, can I go pee first?”

Sukuna narrows his eyes, “No.”

“I gotta pee!”

“Make it quick!”

You run to the bathroom, quickly doing what you had to do while Sukuna just stares at you. He already informed you he washed his hands so all you needed to do is show him your piercing. Right after you brush your teeth.

“What are you doing?”

“Brushing my teeth-hey!”

He wraps his strong arms around you, “You are testing my patience. Do that later.”

“Morning breath!”

“Who cares?”

You do, but you couldn’t escape the hold your husband had on you sitting on the bed with him, your back against his chest. Sukuna took off your shirt immediately and graced himself with the sight of your breasts. The heart beat in your chest was hard to ignore, even as you rested your hand on his knee.

“Be gentle, please.”

“I will.”

To test the waters, he thumbs your nipple. You try not to immediately melt in his warm touch. He slides along your nipple to the bar bell, causing you to take a deep breath. You ignore the goosebumps on your skin as he continues, moving your jewelry a bit.

His touch combined with your increased sensitivity felt addicting. You were so close to becoming putty in his hands, all because of a few rubs to your nipple. Knowing Sukuna, he was probably looking serious. As if he was planning the next attack in the middle of a battle.

“Ah!”

You push against him at the pinch to your nipple. A hand squeezes your other breast, beckoning your thighs to spread for him. Enough to where his hand snaked down your stomach and under the waistband of your panties.

That slick motherfucker.

“Kuna…” You start to protest, ready to remove yourself from his hold. The no sex rule was also impacting you, but you thought your mind was strong enough to resist. Sukuna’s calloused finger to your clit made any reason fly out the window.

The grip on his knee got tighter and you're panting along his neck. You notice a smirk on his face at how you’re affected by his touch.

“Feels good?”

That low tone in his face makes you croon, combined with his slow circles on your clit. Sukuna is also still figuring out the best way to give you maximum pleasure with your piercing. When he slides the barbell back and forth, a tingling sensation surrounds you. Your toes curl and your eyes shut.

“Don’t…” You don’t want him to stop. Not when your breaths get heavy and your face starts feeling hot. Plus, something hard was pressed against your back. You knew what that was.

A groan escapes Sukuna when he put two fingers inside you, witnessing how soaked you were. He nudges into your head, his own breaths synching up with yours. He’s got your entire, pierced breast pooled in his palm. The action of him gently thumbing it, pinching it was just sending you to the edge.

Sukuna has you locked in, so you couldn’t escape even if you tried. But you wait for the inevitable. For you to experience ecstasy unlike these few past weeks. That doesn’t come.

Right when you’re about to reach your peak, Sukuna pulls away. He’s licking his fingers while your eyes shoot open.

“What the hell? Why did you stop?”

“You said no intercourse.”

You scoff, going to stand, your legs shaking a little. “Since when do you listen to me?”

“Since now.”

His legs are spread, enough for you to see the giant tents in his pants. You roll your eyes and decide not to argue with him even further.

“You’re an ass.”

You can hear Sukuna’s laughter on the other side of the bathroom as you finish up your morning routine.

Now, he’s pissed you off.

There’s a few more months until his tongue can make contact with your nipple, but you want to make this situation unbearable. Sukuna has helped you clean your piercing, lifted up your shirt when he wants to see it, but you got rid of that.

He glares at you already cleaning your piercing when it’s time. All of your shirts have been tucked in to prevent him from lifting them. No more shared showers or baths. Anything to drive your husband wild.

At first, you can see the vein on his forehead, the annoyed look in those eyes when he sees what you’re doing. But after a few weeks, he becomes stagnant. No attempts to raise your shirt or see your breast in the shower. No demands for him to see it randomly in the estate. The silence was unnerving. Sukuna was lowering your guard before striking, ready to ruin you the way he wants.

Yet, it doesn’t come.

You stopped worrying about him pouncing on you three weeks later. The married life you two contained went back to normal. He still annoyed you, but about other things. It was almost as if he dropped the thought of you having that piercing at all.

It’s exactly why when you’re set up to watch a movie one day, a thought occurred to check the calendar. Sukuna was preparing his nightly routine in the shower so you wanted to kill some time. Your stomach dropped when you realized it’s been three months. Sure, not enough adequate time for your piercing to fully heal, but enough to try and do things.

Was he expecting this? He was the one that suggested a movie night, while you wear the pink, silk pjs he picked out for you. And he had this look in his eye that you couldn’t decode.

You should run, but that would entice your husband even further. He likes the chase. You can be brave and prepare for his approach. Or you can turn the tables.

That flowy pink top is gone and tossed away. You recline on the couch when heavy footsteps resonate in your ears. Sukuna locks eyes with you, hair damp, only wearing pj shorts that does little to hide his aroused state.

“Took you long enough.”

You’re sitting up on your knees as he comes closer. “You’re talking about me but…someone was in a hurry.” Even his skin was damp as you trace a finger down his abs. Sukuna’s breath hitched when you tug on his waistband, not pulling down his shorts just yet.

“The thought of me messing with you to get what I want made me make haste.”

He grips the back of your head to tilt your head up. Your lips part at the kiss you two share. His tongue damn near in the back of your throat, showing how much he needed you after these excruciating months. You can’t help but moan under him as a sign that you felt the same.

When you part, you immediately pull down his shorts. Those cocks springing free, already a little red and leaking. You don’t miss a beat when you lick any cum remaining from his tips. Sukuna doesn’t remove that hand from your head when you lick up one of his shafts. Your hands stroke the other, directly along your nipple piercing. The cool jewelry graze his cock while droplets of his seed stain your chest.

“Wife…” He swallows, taking shallow breaths to keep steady. “You are toying with me.”

Sukuna lets out a choked groan when you take him in your mouth. Your lips pursed around his thick shaft as you slowly sucked. The scent of his sea salt body wash makes your thighs clench together. Your hands deliberately matching the pace of your mouth. Your moans vibrating against his cock.

You don’t miss the death grip Sukuna has on you. If you wanted to part from him, you can’t, but you have no reason to. His pleasure filled face gives you everything you need to keep going. The slight jolt he gives when your barbell touches any part of his cock, especially the tip. You couldn’t help but smirk at the sight.

Sukuna doesn’t try to hide how much he’s pleased. He’s moaning to the stars with every stroke and suck you conduct. You deny him sex for a quarter of a year, of course he’s glad to have you once again.

Your hands get sticky from all of the pre cum. It helps you stroke a little faster, ignoring the slow pace from your mouth. Sukuna pushes against you, wanting your mouth to match your hands again. You don’t bother teasing and accept his demand. Soon, your husband is no stranger to showing you that he likes what you’re doing.

You take him fully in your mouth, his pubic hairs brushing along your nose. Sukuna shudders, knees buckling when you continue. The slight gag combined with the sticky, wet sound of your strokes became too much for him to bear. He’s now chasing his own high, making your mouth match the pace he wants. It’s not until your jewelry connects with the underside of his shaft that he comes.

A roar fills the living room. You swallow his seed, your chest getting stained with it. Your upper body is coated when he parts from you, eyes on his cum decorating your breasts, practically dripping off it. He gazes at it with hunger, which makes your core flutter.

“I will go with you next time when you get the other one done.”

He plants himself back down on the couch. Before you agree to his statement, Sukuna puts you on his lap and latches on to your breast. You put your head back when his tongue swirls around the barbell, removing any remnants of cum and replacing it with his saliva. You grip his hair, lifting up your hips so he can remove your shorts too.

You’re grinding your hips against him. His large hands plant on your ass cheeks, but still doesn’t leave your breast. Sukuna sighs along your mound, licking and sucking to his heart’s desire. You don’t even want to think about how thoroughly you should clean your piercing once you’re done.

“Sukie…” You coo, “Does it taste like metal?”

He grunts, releasing your breast with a small pop, “And my semen.”

You let out a short laugh before he picks you up and lowers you on one of his shafts. Where he then proceeds to do all the work. Bouncing you up and down on him while he never leaves your tits. Especially the pierced one. He even leans forward to taste it again as you cry above him with his rough thrusts.

Sukuna doesn’t let go when you climax, your walls squeezing around his shaft. Not even when he released a strangled moan at his second orgasm. He doesn’t let go while he fills you up and stains your back. It’s not until you’re covering his face with kisses that he lets go. Only to give you another kiss. A slower, yet passionate one that makes you melt in his arms.

“I want to clean it for you.” He states, gazing at you with an emotion you know too well.

“Okay.” You rub your nose along his own, “It’s the least you can do.”

Tags: @ammrry

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

Marry Me

➾In Which: Meeting your boyfriend for one last date to break the news — well, let's just say you should have sent a text instead and ran for the hills.

RATED X. MATURE AUDIENCES ONLY.

❥Jeong Yunho x fem reader

"Your efforts have been cute but I'm tired of it. Time to face reality."

♡'･ᴗ･'♡genre: yandere, dead dove 🪦

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: DARK FICTION. DARK DARK. DEAD DOVE FFR. 403 possessive yandere, 414 punishment, home invasion, kissing and non-con kissing, toxic relationship, extreme controlling behavior, reader described as shorter than yunho, alcohol but not enough to even be tipsy, if i can't have you no one can ahhh yunho, forced legal marriage, insults towards reader: unsubstantiated slut shaming + cheating accusations, violence towards reader: manhandling + slapping + yelling + threatening with a knife + implied baby trapping and nc (i am so very sorry but yunho is the worst yandere in ateez, i fully believe it). pet names: love, doll, sweetheart. semi-abrupt ending cause i couldn't make myself go that far

"You think I'm finished? Oh, that's cute... Your punishment hasn't even started yet."

➯a/n: anon who requested this woke something dormant up in my brain about yandere yunho 😵‍💫 i think he's the yandere i MIGHT start writing noncon with IF i ever decide to because i legit can't see it going any other way until reader has INSANE stockholm worse than hwa's baby... mans is fucking CRAZY and SCARY and i luv him

♡masterlist + navigation !♡

₊‧⁺stardust˖⋆ @sousydive @sunnysidesins @onyxmango @devilzliaison @ateezswonderland @queenofdumbfuckery @emilysecresy

18+. MINORS HIT THE ROAD.

─..★.─────

"Hey, doll," Yunho smiles as he walks up to the table.

Out on the restaurant patio, it's nice and breezy and it cools your nerves as you return his smile.

"Hey, Yunie," you crane your neck to look up at him as he bends down; cupping the side of your neck while giving you a gentle kiss.

"For me?" He points to the beer on the table as he pulls back.

"Mhm, it just got here, still cold," you nod, leaning back in your seat and taking a deep breath.

"You're so sweet, thank you," he takes the seat across from you, looking you up and down. "Is something wrong?"

"Hm? No," you shake your head quickly and wave him off, "I, uhm, I actually got some good news..."

"Really? What is it?" He asks before taking a sip; and you wait until he sets the glass down to speak. You think he might have choked if you didn't.

"You remember the position my boss recommended me for?"

His face drops slowly. Pressing his lips together, he nods slowly.

"They want me to take it-"

"No."

"Yunho, it's not up to you." You try to stand your ground, but your voice waivers.

"You'd have to move to the other side of the world!" His outburst gets the attention of a few fellow customers, and he slumps back in his chair; pulling his hat further down his face. "Have you even thought about this- the logistics? We'd be in two opposite time zones, when would we even be able to talk?"

You're quiet. Too quiet. Looking down at the table with something stuck on the tip of your tongue but you're afraid to say it.

"Sweetheart." He whispers as he leans forward, resting his arms on the table as he looks at you intently. "Don't fucking say what I think you're about to."

"I think we should break up."

You jump as he slams his hand on the table before quickly putting his face in his hands with a groan. "Fuck..."

"Yunho, I'm sorry..." You look down at your lap, "but it's- really, it's for the best. We can both spend more time furthering our careers and maybe in the future-"

"Are you kidding me?" He mumbles, hand over his mouth and looking at you with a barely contained storm of emotions in his eyes.

You avoid his gaze like it's the plague, bouncing your leg and holding your hands together tightly. "No. I'm serious. This is the last time we're going to see each other. I went to your apartment while you were at practice and got my things, and I left yours o-"

"Nope." He laughs, unhumorous. Like he's in shock. "No, sorry. Not happening."

"You can't just say 'no', this is the decision I'm making." You look at him for a moment with a glare before quickly look back down when you see his eyes locked on you like some sort of predator.

"Like fuck I can't, you said you were going to marry me one day. You said you wanted to have kids together." His voice is even, but it's laced with anger. He leans over the table and pinches your chin, making you look at him. "What happened to that, love?"

"I'm sorry, Y-"

He grabs your hands as you stand up, looking up at you intensely. "You can't just leave."

"Miss?" Both of your eyes snap to the elderly couple who's approached your table after hearing the ruckus. "Do you need some help?" The woman reaches towards you when Yunho stands quickly and pulls you to the other side of the table.

"She's fine. We're just having an argument, every couple does. Right, doll?"

You gulp as he rests his hands on your shoulders. Normally, in any other argument you had, you'd say yes. But this isn't something small like whose apartment to go back to or whether or not you should take birth control when he uses condoms anyway.

Thinking about that second one gives you pause.

It's like every little strange or controlling thing Yunho has ever said slams on top of you all at once; making your knees weak.

"...Yes." You squeak out, feeling his grip on your shoulders tighten.

"Let go of her, son," the older man steps forward, and Yunho only backs up.

"Sweetheart, seriously think about what you're doing. I love you like nobody else ever could, I want to share my life with you, please-"

You writhe out of his grasp, all but running to the woman; grabbing your purse from the table on the way. "Come on, dear, I'll take you to your car," she takes your hand quickly, rubbing your arm in a comforting manner as she guides you back into the restaurant to head for the front door.

Yunho can only watch, practically steaming with anger, as the man sizes him up. He's shorter, smaller. He could easily over power the old-timer. But people are starting to stare.

"Fuck," he groans, kicking a chair before taking off his hat and running a hand through his hair roughly. Already thinking of ways to make you stay when you've clearly made up your mind — for real this time.

You've never said those words. Break up. Not even when he made you just as angry as he is now when he snuck into your apartment and —

He takes a deep breath when the idea comes to him.

He knows how to make sure you realize that you don't get to leave him.

─..★.─────

Your tired and puffy eyes crack open as the bed shifts.

Then, they widen quickly as you catch the outline of Yunho's figure climbing on top of you. When you try to scream, he slams a hand over your mouth. "Shut up." He says shortly, silencing you as you feel something cold and sharp against your neck.

"This is all your fault. You're the one who broke our promises. I should kill you."

You feel the blade tilt against your delicate flesh, your eyes wide and begging; filling with tears quickly.

He's straddled over your hips, caging you against the mattress. He stripped the blanket away while you were asleep, leaving you in your large sleep shirt and panties. Suddenly feeling way too exposed even though he's not looking at you with anything besides anger.

He leans forward, nose to nose, "I'm going to move my hand. If you scream, I'm going to. Nod if you understand."

You nod. Quick and careful.

Taking a deep breath when he removes his hand, you tilt your head to the side to face away from him. "Y-"

"Me first." When you bite your trembling lip, he continues, "is there someone else?"

"What? No, no," you shake your head quickly, arms wrapping around your chest in an attempt to comfort yourself as his gaze burns through you.

"Are you lying?" He sneers as he grips the base of your scalp, making you yelp before you remember his threat and slam your lips together.

"Have you been slutting around behind my back? Is that why you were so damn insistent about your birth control? Hm? Answer me!" He drives the blade into the bed next to your head, making you jump to the side and grab at his other arm clumsily.

"No! No, Yunho! Wh- There's never been anyone else, I swear, I swear," you sniffle, looking up at him as your tears start sliding down your temples. "I swear, Yunie."

"You swear? Oh, you swear, do you? That's what you said about marrying me, too."

"I m-meant it," you sob as he yanks the blade from your bed; thinking you're its next target.

"Did you?" He yanks you up by the grip he has on the base of your skull, ignoring your cries as he drags you to your desk — where the only light in the room radiates from. "Sign it." He says simply as he shoves you into your chair.

You look away from him slowly, rubbing your sore scalp as you look at the paper.

CERTIFICATE OF MARRIAGE.

"Yunho..."

He raises his eyebrows, looking you up and down as he leans against the wall. "Sign it, doll."

"I br- but- I broke up wi-"

He pushes off the wall quickly and slaps you.

He slaps you so hard your ears ring. Your head snaps to the side. Your jaw drops. His hand is the size of your entire face.

"You say those words one more damn time..." He pants, throwing the knife onto the desk before slapping your other cheek; throwing your head in the opposite direction with a cry of pain. "I seriously fucking dare you. See what happens. I'm already mad, love. Your efforts have been cute, but I'm tired of it. Time to face reality. You belong to me. Sign the paper."

With a shaking hand, you pick up the pen quickly —

And you sign your name right next to his.

You drop the pen like it's burned you, staring at the paper for a moment before you look at him. He looks down at the paper and smiles, barely noticeable. "Good." He says before leaning and pressing his lips to yours roughly.

You stay there, stunned, until he pulls back — and slaps you. "Ow!" You scream. It hurts so much more the second time when your cheek is already sore and undoubtedly bruising.

"Say you're my wife."

"Wha-"

Slap! "Say it."

"I'm your wife..." You stare up at him, shivering, "Yunho, please, calm d-"

Slap! "Say you love me."

"I love you!" You yell as you push yourself back on the chair, getting caught almost effective immediately. "Please, stop-"

He wraps his hands up in your shirt and pulls you up, dragging you the few steps back to the bed and throwing you on it.

You fall onto your back and sniffle quietly, "t-thank you."

He laughs as he crawls back over you. "You think I'm finished? Oh, that's cute... Your punishment hasn't even started yet. You really think I'm going to go easy on you when you just broke my heart like that?"

Your heart falls into the depths of your uneasy stomach as he trails his hands up your waist. "You're my wife?" He arches an eyebrow, urging you.

"Yes," you nod, breath caught in your throat.

"And..." He leans over, mumbling against your lips, "you love me?"

"Yes."

"That's beautiful, sweetheart," he smiles a bit more before he bites at your lips. "I think I know what will make happy... What will make you stay."

Before you can tell him you've changed your mind, you'll stay as long as he never slaps you again because your entire face is sore now —

"A baby."

He slips his hands under your shirt, running them along your stomach. "Being a Mommy finally going to make you settle down? The Mommy to my babies?"

"Wai-"

"Yeah, it will~" He grins widely as he turns you to lay on your belly, shoving your face into the sheets as he speaks right into your ear, "and every time you look at them, you'll remember how much this fucking hurt."

─MARRY ME★.─────

[crowfish-brainrot]

Mistakes Were Made Part 1

I was going to do this as a filthy one-shot but then I started writing and realized this is probably gonna be like 30k+ words by the time I finish with all of them, so we're breaking it down in parts. Adrenaline can make people lusty, and that's what inspired this fic. Also, if I was MC, my sexy self would be fuckin' all five of these men until I got into a relationship bc I am weak and they are too hot to not. Soooo, this might get kinda messy, but it'll end in a good (poly?) place.

CONTENT NOTES FOR ALL PARTS: 18+ MDNI. LaDs men x MC (you), Casual Sex, Pre-relationship, Complicated Feelings All Around. Smut & Angst. Smut with Feelings. No use of Y/N. Possibly ooc bc I'm still getting back into fanfic. Oral f&m receiving, p in v, unprotected sex bc its fiction, creampies, softdom!Xavier, brattamer!Zayne, brattyswitch!Rafayel, switch!Sylus, dom!Caleb brattyswitch!MC, but it's all fluid imo. light bond*ge, sp*nking, size difference, overstimulation, improper use of evol, semi-public sex. Nicknames used in all parts: canon nicknames as well as bunny, princess, love, & darling. F reader. MC is described as being curvy and strong with some fuller titties bc I love titties. Possibly MMF if I get to a part 6 Unedited. You get this raw (just like our Lads!)

Xavier (this part) | Zayne | Rafayel | Sylus | Caleb

The first time it happened, it wasn't on purpose. Not really. Xavier was so fucking cute, it wasn't fair. The way his pretty blue eyes got wide, the soft pout that settled on his lips when you did something that made him jealous. How he'd place his hand on your lower back like it belonged there when he led you out of rooms or away from people who stole your attention from him, it was hot.

In addition to that, the man was seriously skilled. His evol was powerful, and he cut through wanderers like it was nothing. After one particularly tough day of battle, you both were a little roughed up. Not too bad, a scrape here and there, but a streak of blood ended up on his face. Gods help you, Xavier was a handsome man normally, but roughed up and messy from a battle? It was downright sinful how good he looked.

After battle, your blood always ran hot. Since you started this job your vibrator got a workout, most days leaving you so on edge you had no choice but to find some sort of quick release. You expected the same would happen after that battle. Yet, instead of telling him goodnight in the elevator, you asked him to come inside you apartment and have dinner with you. He agreed.

So you ordered dinner in, washed up enough to eat, and he did the same. Dinner arrived and you ate next to him on the couch, half-watching some boring movie you didn't care about. Especially not with him so close to you.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice soft and warm in your ears. Unwanted goosebumps danced up your arms, and you did your best to repress the shiver.

"Fine. Just on edge, you know?" You sighed and laid back into the couch. "I'm always a little tense after battles. It'll pass."

He looked at you in that way of his. Bright blue eyes that seemed to already know every secret you had, like he saw down to the very essence of who you were. You, on the other hand, never knew what he was thinking. He was so calm. So stable that your bullshit never fazed him. Like Zayne, in a way. Maybe that's why you liked Xavier so much. That stability and seemingly never-ending patience soothed your nerves and made your mind turn into jelly when it was directed at you. Like it was at that moment.

"What do you usually do to calm down?" he asked.

Gods, his eyes were so wide, he looked too innocent. You wondered if he heard you come before. He was right upstairs, and while you tried to be quiet, the walls were thin. Your heart thrummed under your breast and you tried to come up with some sort of lie that sounded convincing.

"I...uh..."

"Your face is red," he said in that same monotone voice. A little glint of something sparkled in his eyes, but you turned away to hide your burning face.

"I'll calm down in a little bit. I think I just need to lay down." It was a lame cover up. You knew it, Xavier knew it, and so did the thirty-seven plushies in the corner of your couch.

"Lay on me then. We have to finish the movie, I won't be able to sleep if I don't know how it ends."

A lie almost as lame as yours. Xavier could sleep standing up waiting for backup if he had to. Still, when he leaned back on the couch and opened his arms in invitation, you couldn't resist. He was your work partner. You trusted him with your life every day, certainly you could take a nap on him.

His coat was off, and all he wore was a thin t-shirt that fit close to his body. Battle-toned muscle laid under a soft layer of bulk, he turned out to be the perfect pillow. Warm and soft, he registered in your mind as safe on a bone-deep level. You took off your hunter uniform when you went to wash up, and you regretted the short sleep shorts and thin shirt you picked out, because the heat of him seeped through the fabric and burned against your skin.

The rush of adrenaline-induced desire you dealt with after battle didn't ease. If anything, his proximity and the fact he was still partially mused from battle did the exact opposite of help the predicament you found yourself in. You laid on his chest. He used one arm as a pillow, and the other draped over your waist like it belonged there. Distracted, his thumb stroked your side and you thought you'd melt out of your skin you were so hot. Your panties were soaked through, and you tried to adjust every few minutes to escape the feeling.

The third time you squeezed your thighs together and rolled your hips to a more comfortable position, Xavier stilled you with his firm grip. You mewled, like the pathetic little kitten Sylus insisted you were. It was an embarrassing sound, and you hid your face in Xavier's chest, pretending he didn't hear you.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you. Are you sore?" Xavier asked.

"Yeah," you said, your voice tight. "I'm very, very sore."

You refused to look at him. You reminded yourself all the reasons you needed to behave yourself. Xavier was your neighbor. You worked together. He was jealous of anyone else who took your attention now. You saw him every single day. You were friends. You should not ruin all of that by letting your horny brain make the decisions. Yes, he was handsome, gentle, and lethal at once. Sure, he was tall with big shoulders and strong hands. Yeah, he was probably strong enough to throw you around and his cock was--

His cock was hard. It throbbed against your lower stomach between the clothing separating you. You moved just enough that you felt it, likely why Xavier tried to get you to stop. You kept your head buried in his chest. He said nothing. Silence dragged between you as you fought yourself for mental clarity.

But then he said your name. Breathless, almost a whine. Needy. Your self control left the fucking building. You braved meeting his face, and his eyes were dark with desire. You sat up with your palms flat on his chest. Your hair curtained over your shoulder as his large hands came to rest on your waist. Your left hand slid up his chest, to his jaw, and you held him there, neither of you speaking.

He broke first.

Faster than you could track, he flipped you so you were on your back with your arms above your head. Your wrists were held in one of his hands, and he crashed his lips into yours. You moaned as he ground his hips into you, showing you just how hard he was. Your mind spun. He was so thick, you could already imagine the stretch he'd give you.

He tore his lips away, and you were both breathless. Pinned under him, you had no desire to move. His broad form blocked out the dim light of the movie, and all you knew was him. He looked at you as if you hung the stars in the sky, and he kissed you again. More tender than the last time.

"Do you want to continue this?" he asked. His grip loosened around your wrists, giving you an easy way to escape. Not that you couldn't before. You were strong enough to knock anyone who you didn't want touching you on their ass, but the gesture made your heart and stomach flip.

"I do," you said, your voice soft. "Do you?"

"More. than. anything."

He punctuated the words with kisses down your neck. That little voice in the back of your head that screamed "don't fuck your co-workers" went silent as all the remaining rational thought in your mind melted out of your ears. Who were you to deny yourself something you both wanted?

You arched into his kisses and his free hand slid under the hem of your shirt. Big, calloused, and oh so warm, he reached up your side and pushed your shirt up. He let go of your wrists only long enough to pull your shirt off, and then he unhooked your bra. Your full tits jiggled as he removed the garment, and he cursed.

"Fuck, bunny. You're so beautiful." His praise came out with the sanctity of a prayer. The nickname he gave you, something he hadn't done until now, made your cheeks burn. His shirt came next, and by all the fucking gods, you couldn't breathe. He was so good looking it was unfair. How were you ever meant to resist this?

Before you could reply with a sultry remark, his lips were back on yours with your wrists pinned under his palm. He kissed you softly at first, but it quickly grew more heated. It was like he was pent up, so full of need that the slightest touch would break him, and that drove you wild. His lips left your mouth and trailed down your neck, to your tits, and down your stomach.

"Xavier, please I--"

"Quiet," he commanded. "I'll give you what you need, but I need something first."

His voice took on a harder edge. Soft-spoken, meek Xavier was gone, and in his place stood the dominant, deadly, serious version of him you only caught glimpses of. Gods, you didn't think you could get any wetter, but here you were, so wet that even your shorts were soaked through. He cursed again when he came face-to-face with the truth of your desire. He released your wrists and again, faster than you could blink, he slipped your shorts and panties off.

He threw your legs over his shoulders and kissed from your knee down to your thigh, moving slowly as he eased himself in line with your soaking pussy. Nestled between your thighs, he licked from your opening to your clit. You both moaned. His strong hands gripped your thighs, and he lost himself in your pussy. Long, firm licks lapped up all your juices and his nose bumped against your clit in a perfect rhythm.

Pent up and drenched, you were already close. Not that Xavier seemed to notice. He was too busy devouring you to respond to your warnings that you were close, or maybe he wanted you to shatter all over his face. Either way, the wave built until you couldn't hold it back. He moaned as you came on his face, and he looked up at you from between your thighs. His pretty blue eyes bright and sparkling in the low light.

Xavier kissed your still-pulsing clit then sat up on his knees. His belt came off in one hand, and his pants and boxers slipped down his strong thighs. His cock was just as thick as you imagined it would be, and a good length. Big enough to hit all the right places and wide enough to give you the stretch you needed. You bit your lip and shivered as you imagined how it'd stretch you wide open, and your legs spread of their own accord.

Xavier slapped the head of his cock on your clit and you whined, a high-pitched, pitiful sound. He chuckled, the sound just as warm as the rest of him. "I think you're wet enough to take my cock. Do you want it, bunny?"

"Please, Xavier," you whined. "I need you."

"Bend over for me. Hands behind your back," he said.

You flipped around and pressed your chest into the couch, arched your back, and spread your legs. Your hands went to the small of your back. The smooth leather of his belt wrapped around your wrists and he planted a kiss between your shoulder blades.

"Is this okay?" he asked.

"Yes!"

"Tell me if you need me to untie you." Another kiss between your shoulder blades made your heart do the stupid flipping thing it liked to do around him, and you made a simple noise of agreement, not trusting your voice.

He gripped the tail of the belt and held it tight in his hands, pulling your arms back. Restrained, your already lust-fogged mind emptied further, sinking deeper down into the sensations Xavier gave you. His large hand clapped down on your ass, not hard, but just enough to make noise. Your hips rolled back against his, and he cursed.

"What a good girl you are," he cooed. "Fucking perfect. Better than I imagined."

The confession that he imagined you like this was too much for your lust-drunk mind to process. Thankfully, Xavier didn't seem to expect a response from you. He lined his fat cock up with your entrance, then slipped in.

Your moan was muffled by the couch. His cock was so thick it burned slightly as he settled inside you. You hadn't taken anything bigger than your fingers since you started work, and Gods, having Xavier inside you was the best kind of stretch. He started off slow, going in deep and hitting every spot that made your breath hitch, then he slowly eased back until only the tip remained. He continued that slow pace, stretching you out around his fat cock.

Your fingers wrapped around his belt for some sort of purchase, needing something to tether you to the moment. Each slow, luxurious roll of his hips pushed another desperate, needy whine out of you and into the couch.

"Xavier!" you moaned.

"Yes, bunny?" he asked, his voice as calm as ever.

"More, please."

"You need more?" Xavier hummed. "I'm not sure you can take it."

"I need more, please!"

He clapped down on your other ass cheek. Noisy, but not hard enough to hurt and your mind melted. His pace increased from torturously slow to a medium pace, the added fiction against your slick inner walls pulling more needy sounds out of you. Your walls fluttered around him as you neared your second release.

"You already want to come again, don't you?" Xavier said, his voice low. "I feel you getting close. Fuck, you feel so good."

You cried out his name again, with some sort of half-babbled praise about how big he was, how much he stretched you. You were fucked out. Gone. Lost in sensation.

"I can't hear you. Say that again." Xavier slammed his hips hard into yours and you moaned his name again. Louder this time, followed by more babbled praise. "Good girl, that's more like it."

His hand settled around the belt holding your wrists together and his thrusts became deep, punishing things. You babbled out praises and moans of his name as your release grew closer and closer. His other hand reached under your bodies and rubbed your clit in slow, firm circles and you shuddered.

His cock throbbed inside you. Pulsing alongside your slick walls as he thrust into you. The wet sounds of your fucking echoed in your living room, over the sound of your forgotten movie. Panted breaths and muffled moans added to the sounds, which only made you burn hotter. Your pussy clenched around his cock when he hit just the right angle, and you choked out a needy moan.

"Come for me, bunny. Let me feel you."

The command was spoken softly in your ear, but there was a sharp edge to it you had no choice but to obey. You came with a loud cry of Xavier's name, gushing over his thick cock. You clenched and squeezed, and Xavier barely pulled out before he came. Thick, hot spurts painted your ass, and he moaned your name as he coated you in his come.

You both were breathless in the aftermath. Xavier leaned down and kissed the space between your shoulder blades as he freed your wrists from his belt. Strong hands massaged your wrists until they stopped tingling, then he placed a soft kiss on each one. He disappeared for a moment, and when he came back he had a warm cloth. He cleaned you up, then pulled you against his chest.

You nuzzled into his neck, sighing softly. He turned your chin and convinced you to drink some water. You slowly came back to the moment, your body blissfully calm and mind blessedly empty. He laid back on the couch and pulled you with him. You flopped on top of him, and he pulled your couch blanket over you both.

You didn't mean to fall asleep.

That was your first thought as your work alarm blared from your bedroom. Sunlight danced in through the windows of your apartment, and a quick look at your phone said it was just past seven. Work started at nine. Xavier was fast asleep under you, snoring softly without a care in the world. His arms held you tight against his chest, and after a little bit of wiggling around, you realized there was no escaping his death grip.

You were both still naked, wrapped up together and warm from shared body heat. Your living room smelled like sex, and your face flushed as you realized you'd need to spot clean your couch. Looking down at the sleeping man below you, your neighbor, your co-worker, you realized mistakes were made last night, and now you had to suffer the consequences.

You shook Xavier's shoulder. "Xavier. It's time to wake up."

He mumbled something that sounded like a "no". You tried again, shaking him harder this time. "Xavier!"

His arms wrapped tighter around you, as if he refused to let you go even while sleeping. You rolled your eyes. Running out of options and feeling increasingly trapped, you opted for something odd. You bit him. Right over his nipple.

It worked.

Xavier startled awake, and upon seeing your face, he eased, a soft laugh bubbling in his chest. "I didn't realize bunnies bit so hard."

You hummed, almost saying something stupid like, "that's why another sexy man I know calls me kitten", but you caught yourself. You cleared your throat. "You weren't waking up, so I had to resort to extreme measures. We have to get up for work."

Xavier checked the time on his phone and made a disgruntled noise. "I suppose so."

You swallowed hard as you prepared yourself for what could quite possibly be one of the most awkward morning-after conversations ever. You liked Xavier. A lot. However, this wasn't and could not become a relationship. You didn't know the extent of Xavier's feelings, but you knew he felt something, and you wanted to nip that in the bud before anything got too serious.

"We're good, right? Nothing is different with us?" you asked.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Well, we work together, live next to each other. I don't want last night to make things weird between us. I don't regret it, but I also don't want you to think it means something more than it does, you know?"

Xavier's smiling face went blank, and you knew you fucked up.

"What did it mean, then?" he asked, his tone flat.

"Well...we're friends. And maybe fuck buddies, if you want to be. If either of us needs a hand like I did last night, I'd be open to that. But, I honestly don't have time for a relationship, and I don't think you do either. I think it's best if we keep this casual."

"Casual." Xavier said the word like it offended him and you winced.

"Yeah. Is that alright with you?"

Xavier looked at you, the distance back in his blue eyes. The silence stretched on between you for several uncomfortable minutes, but you kept your mouth shut. If you fucked everything up permanently, it was best to figure that out now, before you got to work so you could request a new partner. Eventually, Xavier sighed and a little bit of the warmth he showed only to you came back into his expression.

"The next time a battle leaves you needing a way to burn off some steam, come to me. I'll take care of you," he said. He planted a chaste kiss on your shoulder, and you smiled at him.

"Alright. Otherwise, we're back to normal?"

"Yeah," he said. "Otherwise, we're back to normal."

You both knew it was a lie, but it comforted you all the same.

Yeah, things were perfectly, totally normal.

So. Normal.

A/N: Xavier isn't one of my mains, but I love him sm & I can easily imagine something like this happening, so he's the one we started this lil series off with. I want to do one of these with each LI before we start getting into overlap territory, and if we get there or not really depends on how much y'all want that. So, lmk! Either way, the next part of this series is going to be all about our favorite Doctor. I'm excited to write that one!

Masterlist | Next Part

[jetii]

Man or Commander

Pairing: Wolffe x fem!Reader / Wolffe x Doctor!Reader

Words: 17,082

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! established relationship, fluff, it's like 50/50 pwp, protective!Wolffe, smut, oral (f recieving), fingering, unprotected sex, pinv, dirty talk, so much of that, praise kink in a big way, size kink, veryyy soft dom!Wolffe, Wolffe is a cuddly drunk

Summary: After your first date in months with Wolffe is ruined, you want to make the most of your night together. All Wolffe wants is you.

A/N: This was born from @cyaretra and I discussing Wolffe's guilty pleasures of red wine, trash reality tv, and fast food. RIP Wolffe you would love space in-n-out.

Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist

“How much further?”

You and Wolffe share a look over your shoulder as he hoists Boost further in his arms, Sinker dangling from yours like a wet bag of laundry. Comet trudges behind, looking for all the galaxy like he just got kicked in the face.

He had, by Wolffe's own account.

“If you don’t stop whining, I’ll leave you all here in the street,” Wolffe grumbles back, and you can tell he’s only half-joking.

Boost and Sinker, to their credit, shut up.

Comet, who has always been the most perceptive of the bunch, says nothing and tries his hardest to keep pace, limping on what you guess is a sprained ankle. The rest of him looks like a bruise, with various shades of reds, purples, and blues covering most of his exposed skin. He had been the first of them to get tossed around in the scuffle, the others jumping into the fray a little too late for him to not take the worst beating.

You try not to think about what might have happened if they hadn't intervened.

The streets of Coruscant are never truly empty, not even during the day, but they are at least quieter in the early morning hours. Which means that when a small squadron of clones, one of whom is being carried, appears from around the corner, people notice.

People stare.

You feel a wave of secondhand embarrassment for the four of them. You can practically hear Wolffe's internal cursing, and he makes sure you know he isn’t happy by the way he grabs your arm and pulls you close to him.

The four of you are going to look quite the sight once you reach the barracks.

Not a bad sight, mind, just a bit... rough.

Wolffe and you share the burden of Boost and Sinker, but it’s mostly him carrying both. You simply hang on, your free hand grasping one of theirs so they don't fall from their commander's arms.

Comet is still trailing behind, and Wolffe shoots him glances, trying to gauge whether or not he is going to pass out before you make it back. He doesn't say anything, though, and neither do you. Comet must take as some sort of dismissal, because he starts trying to make conversation.

"You know, sir, you should really get us some medals for this," he starts, and Wolffe looks up to the sky, asking some unseen deity why it hates him so.

You have to bite your lip to keep from laughing, but a giggle still escapes, and it makes Wolffe glance at you. You offer him a small smile, and his lips twitch slightly in return.

Comet keeps talking. "It was a hard-won battle, sir. We had them outnumbered. I bet there were twenty of 'em, at least."

"There were six," you say, turning back to him, and he shrugs, which you guess is as good a response as any.

"They were pretty big, though. They were probably part-Wookiee. Did you see the size of them? Huge."

You look at Wolffe again, who looks ready to drop Boost and Sinker in order to throttle his soldier. You can't help the laughter that bubbles out of your mouth.

Comet looks pleased with himself, and you think the pain of the fight is starting to make him delirious.

Wolffe glares at the two of you. "I hate both of you."

”Me?” you ask. "I didn't do anything!"

He doesn't answer, which is his usual response when you’re right.

You turn and continue making your way down the street. The neon signs and blinking lights of the seedy district fade into the darkness of the night as you walk, the sound of music and raucous laughter fading with them. The city is still busy, but it’s a different crowd, and they seem to be a bit more interested in getting home than making their way to the next club.

Not that there are many places open at this hour. It is, after all, one in the morning.

You and Wolffe share a sigh as another person pushes past, nearly knocking you over.

You've had about enough of this city. You were ready to go home the moment the sun went down, and now, it‘s all you can think about. You barely had time to look at your bed when you dropped off your bag this afternoon, and you want nothing more than to curl up in it, Wolffe at your side, and sleep for about a week.

That was the original plan, after all.

It's been months since you've had a day together, and you have been looking forward to it. A few drinks. A nice dinner. A walk through the city. An evening spent catching up on all the episodes of that awful holo-series the two of you have gotten hooked on. And then, you and Wolffe could crawl into bed and stay there for as long as possible.

It's what the two of you have been planning for weeks, and now, thanks to your over-zealous, over-protective, and frankly, ridiculous boyfriend and his brothers, you'll be lucky if you make it home before sunrise.

You can't bring yourself to be mad at them though. If they hadn't stepped in when they did, you and Wolffe would be the ones needing to be carried.

They saved the day, and you can't be mad at them for it.

But you are going to complain.

A lot.

"Why is there a fight every time we come here?" you ask. "Every time. We can't even get through one night without someone saying or doing something that causes a riot."

"Because Boost can't keep his mouth shut," Wolffe grunts, and the clone in his arms groans, which you think is an attempt to defend himself.

"You've got to stop picking fights with the locals," you add, turning to Comet, who’s looking worse and worse the closer you get to the barracks. "And I swear, if one more person calls me a 'trooper's whore'..."

"I will rip their spine out," Wolffe growls, and you and the others stare at him. He's a little bloodthirsty tonight, and you have a feeling it has to do with the way he'd been pulled from your embrace in order to break up the fight.

"That's a little graphic, don't you think?" you say, and he glares.

"They deserved it."

"Of course they did, honey," you placate, knowing it's easier to agree than to argue. He knows you're humoring him, but he lets it go.

A few more blocks, and the lights of the barracks come into view. There’s a single floodlight above the entrance, a few windows on the first floor still lit, but the compound itself is quiet. You’re the only ones walking the streets, and as you make your way through the gate, the silence settles around you. It’s a welcome change.

You step into the building and walk to the lifts. Wolffe presses the call button, and the doors to one open with a soft ding. You all shuffle in, and as soon as the doors are closed, you let out a collective groan.

Sinker snorts and lifts his head, his face contorted in pain. There’s a cut on his forehead, and a black eye mars the left side of his face. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

Wolffe shifts, trying to keep his hold on Boost while also giving Sinker a little shake.

That seems to do the trick. Sinker clears his throat and speaks, his voice hoarse. "I'm sorry, Commander. I really didn't mean to cause any trouble."

Wolffe shakes his head.

"You didn't. Those shabuir did,” he says. Boost grumbles, and Wolffe jostles him a little harder than Sinker. "Shut it. You're lucky I didn’t let Fox throw your shebs in the drunk tank. And I'm only not doing it because she," he nods to you, "won't let me."

Boost grumbles again.

"What was that?"

"Thank you, Commander," Boost mumbles, and Wolffe sighs, letting his head fall back against the wall.

"I'm not mad," he continues, and you and Comet share a look, knowing what’s coming next, "but I am disappointed."

There's a chorus of groans and winces, and you have to cover your mouth with your hand to keep from laughing.

The lift slows to a stop, and the doors open. You and Wolffe shuffle out, the boys in tow, and turn towards the infirmary. The halls are still and empty save for a few droids who patrol the floors, and your footsteps echo in the silence.

You pass the first ward, then the second, until finally, you arrive at the third. You enter, and the lights flicker on as you move into the main room, heading for your equipment.

"Let's get the droid. I'll take Comet," you say, nodding at Wolffe, and the two of you deposit your passengers on the nearest cots. The medic droid, sitting idle since you left, stands up and powers on, the little light on its head flashing red.

"How may I help?"

"Run a diagnostic on Boost, would you?” you ask as you thumb through bacta patches. “I'm pretty sure he has a concussion."

"Yes, Doctor."

You come to stand beside Wolffe as the droid scans Sinker, and he wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you against him. You lean in and rest your head on his chest, and he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

"I'm sorry our evening was ruined," he says softly.

You hum and smile. "It wasn't a complete disaster."

"We didn't get to eat. Or talk. Or..."

You lift your head, and place a finger against his lips, shushing him. "No, we didn't. But we got a few things instead. For one, you got to prove to everyone that you can still take on three men twice your size."

"They were drunk," he points out, and you roll your eyes.

"And we got to spend some time together."

"Barely. Then they got jumped,” he says, motioning to the men, who are now all staring at the two of you. You give them a pointed look, and they avert their gazes, but not before muttering a few apologies.

"We also have the rest of the day, and tomorrow,” you add, raising your eyebrows suggestively, “to do whatever we want. With no interruptions."

"Is that a promise?" he asks, his lips pulling up into a smirk. He leans over you, his mouth inches from yours, and your breath catches.

"Absolutely."

"Oh, gross," Boost groans, and Wolffe pulls away from you, his glare returning.

"If the next words out of your mouth aren't a 'thank you' or an 'I'm sorry,' I'm going to make you wish you'd never been decanted."

"Thank you," Boost mumbles, and the other two chime in. Then, the droid speaks.

"Doctor, I have completed my diagnosis," it says, and you and Wolffe move towards Boost. "Trooper Boost has sustained several contusions and minor abrasions, including a sprained wrist, and a laceration requiring five stitches. He will also need an anti-inflammatory and analgesic."

"Shab," Boost lets his head fall back and groans, and Sinker rolls his eyes.

"I told you. Didn't I tell you? Didn't I say that would happen?"

"Yes, Sinker, we get it," Comet interjects.

"Did I not?"

"Yes, Sinker. You did."

You tune out the bickering as you move to help the droid with Boost and Sinker, then move on to Comet. By the time you’re finished, his ankle is wrapped and the bruises and scrapes have been covered. He still looks like he got hit by a speeder, but at least he isn’t bleeding.

The droid makes a note of the injuries and gives you the report, which you quickly read over before setting it aside.

"Alright. All three of you," you start, pointing a finger at each of them, "will stay here for the night. No strenuous activity, no training, no lifting or pushing for a minimum of one week."

There’s a round of protests, but you hold up your hand, cutting them off. "No. You all will do as I say, or you will spend the rest of the war in the infirmary scrubbing bedpans. Are we clear?"

"Yes, doc," they all grumble, and you smile, satisfied.

"Good. Now, try and get some sleep. If you need anything, just ask the droid. Don’t call me.”

Wolffe, who’s been standing silently behind you, steps up and crosses his arms. "Do what she says. I'll be back in the afternoon, and if I find out any of you left this room..."

He lets his words hang, and the three clones nod vigorously, promising to stay put.

"Good."

"Thank you for defending my honor. But next time, please try not to get yourself beaten up in the process,” you say, squeezing Comet’s arm.

He nods and smiles, his grin crooked thanks to the split lip. "You got it, doc."

You pull away and reach for the datapad, signing off on the treatment plan before handing the pad back to the droid.

"Notify me if any of their conditions worsen," you say, and the droid's head flaps in understanding.

"Of course, Doctor."

Wolffe steps up and places a hand at the small of your back, giving his men a parting nod.

"Behave yourselves," he warns.

You step away, and the three clones give their goodbyes, calling their apologies and promises of good behavior as you and Wolffe leave the infirmary. The door hisses shut behind you, and you turn, walking shoulder-to-shoulder with Wolffe back to the lifts.

The corridors are still and quiet, the silence broken only by the occasional beep from a passing droid. The lights are dim, the shadows stretching long across the durasteel floor, and you can feel the fatigue of the night begin to creep in. Your body is tired and aching from the adrenaline crash, but the thought of getting to curl up in your bed with Wolffe is enough to keep you moving.

You stop at the lift, and the doors slide open, the both of you stepping inside. As the doors close and the lift begins its descent, Wolffe turns and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you into his embrace. You sigh and tuck yourself against his side, his warmth seeping through the fabric of his off-duty uniform.

"They shouldn’t have done that," he says, his voice low.

"They did it because they care," you answer, running your hand over his back.

"They're idiots."

"They're sweet," you correct. "I know they got a little carried away, but I think they're going to have plenty of time to reflect on that."

"You're too nice,” Wolffe replies as he leans down and nuzzles your temple.

"And you're too protective," you point out, smiling.

"You're worth protecting."

He presses his lips to your hair, and you close your eyes, savoring the rare display of affection. He’s not as sober as he appears, you realize, the faintest trace of alcohol still on his breath. He’s always more hands-on when he drinks.

Not that you mind.

You turn and kiss his cheek.

"And you're just mad because your brothers stole your thunder," you tease, giving him a grin.

"Damn straight," he says, leaning down to nip at your earlobe, and he smirks as you let out a squeak.

You slap his chest and turn to face him, his smirk widening at the flush on your cheeks. The lift slows to a stop, and the doors open, but neither of you make any move to exit. The idea of making the long journey back to your apartment is as unappealing as sneaking out of Wolffe’s quarters at the crack of dawn, and you can’t bring yourself to tear away from his embrace.

He tilts his head and nips at your jaw, his lips dragging along your skin. You sigh and run your fingers through his hair, gently scratching his scalp, and he lets out a pleased groan, his mouth traveling up to press a soft kiss against your cheek.

"You're staying," he says, the warmth of his breath ghosting across your ear, and you shiver.

It's not a question, but you pretend to think it over anyway, humming softly as you continue to play with his hair. Wolffe’s eyes narrow at your act, and his foot moves to stop the door from closing on his floor, his gaze never leaving yours.

"You're staying," he repeats, his voice taking on a commanding edge.

You give him a sly smile and shake your head.

“I need to eat and shower, and I’m not using GAR-issued soap,” you say, wrinkling your nose. “My body is not a weapon, and I refuse to treat it like one."

Wolffe huffs and removes his foot from the door, letting it slide shut. He punches the button for the ground floor with more force than necessary, and the lift jolts, slowly continuing its descent.

“I suppose that means we’re going back to your place then," he says, his tone dripping with resignation.

"Unless you have a private collection of luxury soaps I don’t know about, then yes. I'm sorry to say we are," you answer, grinning, and you slip out of his embrace as the lift comes to a stop.

You step into the hall and turn, watching as Wolffe slowly follows, a pout firmly on his face.

"You know, a good boyfriend would keep an extra bottle of shampoo for his girlfriend in his shower,” you tease as he comes to stand beside you.

"If she's such a high maintenance woman, maybe she shouldn't be dating a soldier," he retorts, giving you a pointed look.

“Oh, well if that's how you feel..."

You trail off and start walking towards the exit, but Wolffe catches your hand and pulls you back, tugging you into his arms. You collide with his chest, letting out a soft 'oof' before looking up and meeting his gaze.

His eyes are soft, and the hint of a smile plays at the corner of his lips.

"Come on, cyare, we both know I'm the only man for the job," he murmurs, leaning down to brush his lips against your temple.

You laugh softly and wrap your arms around his waist, holding him tight.

"Yeah, you're definitely the only one who can handle me," you say, and Wolffe’s eyes turn dark.

"Mmm, that I am," he rumbles, and he nuzzles your neck, his stubble scratching your skin.

You shiver, and Wolffe pulls back, looking down at you. He brushes a few stray hairs from your face and tilts your chin up, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. It's brief, barely a whisper, but it still makes you smile.

"Let's go home. We can finish our conversation there."

He drops his hand from your face, and you turn, looping your arm through his as the two of you begin to walk. It doesn't take long to reach the lot where your speeder is parked. The streets are empty, and the air is cool and fresh, the sky dark and dotted with stars. It's a pleasant night, and if it weren't for the events that transpired over the last few hours, you'd say it was perfect.

You shoot Wolffe a grin and hop into the driver’s seat, revving the engine. Wolffe rolls his eyes, but a small smile plays on his lips as he gets in and straps himself in, his hand coming to rest on your knee. He squeezes once, nodding, and you take off, heading home.

It's quiet as you fly over the city, the buildings nothing but blurs of color below you. You're not in any rush, and you fly leisurely, taking your time as you navigate the city streets. Wolffe's thumb moves in a gentle circle over your knee, his eyes fixed on the view outside the window.

You can't help but glance over at him every so often. It’s rare to see him like this, relaxed and unguarded. His head rests against the back of the seat, and he watches the city move by, the neon lights dancing across his features.

You know how much this break has meant to him. How hard it’s been, waiting for a day, an hour, even a minute where the two of you could be alone together. He's done well to hide it, but now, without the threat of prying eyes, his mask falls. He looks tired, and sad, and there's an edge of relief to his features, his eyes softening the closer you get to your apartment. You wonder how much sleep he's actually gotten over the last few months.

Not much, by the look of him.

The man doesn't know when to stop. Or when to say no.

It's part of the reason you fell for him. He's always trying to protect his men, his friends, his family. He puts others before himself, and you love him for it. You'd never ask him to change, but you do wish he'd take a little more time for himself.

Wolffe's eyes drift over, and they catch yours.

"What are you looking at?" he asks, his brows drawn together.

You shake your head and look away, back out the windshield.

"Nothing,” you reply. “Just wondering when the last time was that you slept."

He snorts and looks back out the window.

"That's an easy one. I can't remember,” he answers, and you frown.

"That's exactly what I was afraid of."

He chuckles as he turns his attention back outside, and you let out a sigh, shaking your head. He's impossible.

"Well, then I'm making sure you sleep tonight," you state with finality, a plan beginning to form in your mind.

Wolffe raises his brow and glances over.

"Oh, are you now?"

You nod, your gaze fixed on the street in front of you. The turn to your apartment complex is coming up, but instead of turning left, you fly straight past it. Wolffe’s thumb stops moving on your knee, and you bite back a smile as you continue on, heading towards the city center. He doesn’t say anything, but he sits up straighter, his gaze narrowing as he watches the cityscape pass.

"Yes. It's the doctor's orders," you say, giving him a sidelong glance.

Wolffe lets out a hum and sits back, his thumb starting its gentle movements again.

"Alright, then," he concedes. "Where are we going?"

"To get some food. I'm starving, and I can't sleep on an empty stomach," you reply, and Wolffe grunts.

"So we're stopping for a snack? We have food at home," he points out, and you shake your head.

"No, we're going to the best restaurant in the city."

"What restaurant is open at two in the morning?"

You look over, grinning, and Wolffe gives you a flat stare.

"Wolffe, my love, it's Coruscant. There's always something open."

Wolffe doesn't respond, but he does squeeze your knee, his thumb resuming its movement, and a shiver runs through you. He knows just how to work you, and even though the two of you are dead tired and the adrenaline has faded, it doesn't mean he isn't going to try and get his way.

But you have your ways, too.

You reach over and place a hand on top of his. He laces his fingers with yours and brings your hand to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles.

"Wolffe," you warn, but it's a weak attempt.

"Cyare," he answers, a knowing smirk on his lips. It’s barely there, a twitch of his mouth and a crinkle in the corner of his eyes, but it's there, and you know it's not going anywhere anytime soon. Not when the two of you finally have the chance to spend the night alone together and not under the watchful eye of his men. Or worse, Master Plo.

"Sorry, Commander,” you tease, your eyes flicking over to meet his. He raises a brow, and you grin. "Food first. Then we can talk."

"You drive a hard bargain, Doctor," he replies, but he doesn't sound bothered in the least.

"That's why you love me."

"Hmm, that's not the only reason," he murmurs. You give his hand a squeeze, and he brings it to his mouth again, placing a kiss against the inside of your wrist.

"I'm sure there are many. You'll have to tell me later," you say, feeling a blush spread across your cheeks.

"Count on it."

You turn another corner and drift down into a district lit with neon signs and glowing advertisements. It's busier here than the other places you've passed through tonight, and the sidewalks are filled with people. You’re forced to stop the speeder as a large group crosses the street, their laughter and loud conversations reaching you in the safety of the vehicle, and the two of you watch, waiting for them to pass.

“What are you planning?” Wolffe asks as he makes eye contact with two men who step too close to the speeder. They catch sight of him and immediately stop, backing away. He smirks.

"To surprise you," you answer, and he huffs.

"I don't like surprises," he replies, his eyes drifting over the crowd.

"Yes, you do," you say with a disbelieving laugh. You can name a few surprises he’s enjoyed in the time you’ve known him, and not all of them were of the sexual variety. Just most. "You just hate the idea that there might be a variable outside your control."

"I've got enough of those to deal with already," he grumbles, and you squeeze his hand.

"You're off duty. Just enjoy the evening."

He huffs, but you can see the corner of his mouth pull up, the dimple on his cheek becoming more pronounced.

"I'll admit, I've enjoyed some of the surprises you've come up with,” he says, giving you a sidelong glance.

A blush spreads over your cheeks, and Wolffe lets out a low chuckle. You shake your head and try to hide your smile.

"You're terrible," you murmur as you shift the speeder into gear.

"Maybe, but at least I'm honest," he replies, giving your thigh a squeeze.

"That's something I can't argue with."

The crowd clears, and you take off, zipping between the other speeders on the road. You turn and head towards the parking area, and the moment the speeder is secured, Wolffe is out of the vehicle and around to your side, opening the door and helping you out.

“What a gentleman," you tease, and Wolffe huffs, shutting the door and pulling you close.

"Don't go telling anyone. I have a reputation to uphold," he murmurs, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss against the corner of your mouth.

"I wouldn't dream of it," you whisper, tilting your head and catching his lips in a gentle kiss. He lets out a soft groan and his arms tighten, pulling you closer, his mouth opening slightly, his tongue darting out to swipe against your lower lip. You pull away, and Wolffe chases your lips, capturing them in a soft, brief kiss.

You chuckle and rest your hands against his chest, pushing him away. He goes with a slight stumble, his hands sliding down to grip your hips, his thumbs rubbing in gentle circles.

"Come on. I'm hungry, and you're drunk."

"Am not," he mutters, but the way his eyes flick back down to your lips says otherwise.

"Oh, you're not, huh? That's not why you're so affectionate right now?"

"No,” he grumbles, his lips pulled down into a pout. You snort a laugh, and he rolls his eyes, his expression relaxing. He leans forward and presses his forehead against yours. "All right, fine, maybe I'm a little drunk. But not so drunk that I can't keep up with you."

"We'll see about that," you say, pulling back. You let your hands linger for a moment before taking a step back and turning, making your way towards the restaurant.

The door chimes as the two of you step inside, and you’re immediately faced with a line of patrons snaking up to the counter and staff bustling back and forth. Wolffe makes a face as he scans the room.

"What is this place?” he asks, and you can hear the slight judgment in his tone.

“This is a restaurant, Wolffe," you reply, trying to hold back a grin. "I figured the best way to cure a hangover is with some greasy food. And you’ve never had a burger, so I figured we could fix that tonight."

"A what?"

You roll your eyes and take his hand, tugging him into the line. He lets you drag him along, and as soon as you find a spot, you turn and explain. Your hands run over his chest, and his come up, his fingers curling around your wrists, his thumbs stroking the sensitive skin on the inside.

“It’s like a nerf steak, but better. It's a mix of ground meats, and there's this bread called a bun, and you put all these other toppings and stuff on it,” you say as you bounce up on your toes, bringing your face close to his. “It's good, trust me. You'll love it."

"So you're telling me this thing," he starts, gesturing with his head towards the board where all the food options are listed, "has all the same nutrients as a nerf steak, but the texture is completely different, and the flavor is...better?"

“Pretty much," you answer, giving him a wide grin.

Wolffe doesn't look convinced, eyeing the board with barely veiled skepticism. A laugh escapes you, and his gaze snaps down to you, his eyes narrowing.

"What?"

"Nothing, you just look so confused right now. I've never seen that look on your face before," you reply, grinning.

"I don't think I've ever been this confused in my life," he states, turning his attention back to the menu. His brow furrows. "What the kriff is a 'tater tot'?"

A loud laugh escapes you, and the sound draws a few eyes. You cover your mouth, trying to quiet yourself, and Wolffe shoots you a glare, his cheeks turning pink.

"Sorry, I'm sorry, but it's just so funny seeing you like this," you explain, and his face softens. He reaches out and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his side.

"Well, I'm glad one of us is enjoying themselves."

"Oh, come on, you're having fun,” you murmur, poking him in the ribs. He jerks, and his glare returns, but his arm doesn't move. You laugh and wrap an arm around his middle, patting his stomach. "Don't worry. I'm going to order for us, and you're going to eat what I get. And then we're going to go back to my place, and I'm going to tuck you in."

Wolffe snorts, but the smile on his lips and the way he relaxes in your arms says it all.

"Oh, is that all?" he hums, and you can feel his hand sliding up and down your back.

"Mhm," you tease, running your hand up his chest, your fingers playing with the buttons on his fatigues. "That's it."

"Just tucking me in, huh?"

"Yup. Nothing else," you say, giving him a smile that is anything but innocent.

Wolffe's eyes narrow, and his fingers tighten against your hip, the pressure firm and steady. He's considering his next move, and judging by the look on his face, he's already made up his mind.

You take a step back and reach up, adjusting his collar, smoothing it out. You take your time, letting your hands run over his shoulders and chest, feeling the planes of his muscles. He holds still, watching you with dark eyes. You lean in, and he holds his breath, waiting for your next move.

You pat his shoulder, giving him a small smile.

"Well, maybe if you’re really good, I'll read to you," you tease, giving him a wink before turning to look at the menu, standing on your toes to see over the crowd.

Wolffe huffs behind you, and his hand comes up, wrapping around your waist.

"You're mean," he whispers in your ear, his breath tickling your skin.

"Mean? How so?"

"You're being mean to the man who just got out of a drunken brawl in your honor," he murmurs, and his hand tightens around your waist, his fingers pressing into your flesh.

"Well, when you put it like that," you begin, turning and looking up at him. You tilt your head and give him a sweet smile. "Would the man who got into a drunken brawl in my honor care for a milkshake?"

Wolffe looks down at you and sighs, shaking his head. His lips turn up in the corner.

"I suppose he wouldn't be opposed to the idea."

"Good, because I'm getting you a jorganfruit one," you answer as you fall back on the soles of your feet.

"Is it good?"

"So good," you say, nodding enthusiastically. His mouth twitches into a smile, and his arm slides up, wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you close.

"Then I guess I can't say no," he replies, and he presses a soft kiss to the side of your head.

You sigh and lean into him, his warmth surrounding you. Your head falls against his shoulder, and his arm tightens around your waist, holding you close.

It's the first time in weeks the two of you have been able to just exist, and you take a moment to relish the feeling of his body pressed against yours, the warmth of his breath on your hair. You can feel the eyes of the patrons on you, a few even openly staring, watching as if they're trying to solve some great mystery. It's not often they see a clone officer around here, especially one as decorated as Wolffe.

You're sure it's not every day they see one with his arms wrapped around a woman, holding her close, his eyes filled with nothing but warmth, either.

You can't blame them. The two of you are quite a sight, and while you know Wolffe's presence tends to make people nervous, you hope they can see him the way you do.

Strong, but soft.

Fierce, but tender.

Warm, and protective.

You tilt your head and look up, finding his eyes fixed on the crowd. He's scanning the room, his gaze roaming over the patrons, assessing the threats. It's a force of habit, and one that you're sure he'll never shake, no matter how many times you remind him that he's allowed to relax. Not that you can blame him. Tonight was a perfect example of the dangers of the world, and while you are grateful for the protectiveness he and his brothers show, you hope he knows that he can be vulnerable, too.

You reach up and place your hand against his cheek, gently guiding his gaze back down to you. You offer a soft smile, and you watch as the furrow in his brow fades, his features relaxing as his attention settles on you.

The line moves, and before long, you’re placing your order. Wolffe stands behind your shoulder, watching the man behind the counter as he takes your order with an unflinching intensity that you've grown accustomed to over the last year. He doesn't move, and he doesn't blink, not until the man hands you a cup and the receipt.

"Enjoy your food," the man says, shooting Wolffe a wary look.

Wolffe nods, but his eyes stay fixed on the man, watching as he turns and moves into the kitchen.

"Wolffe," you whisper, elbowing him.

He huffs, and a hand moves to rub at his side.

"What?"

"You were being rude."

"Was not," he mutters, his brows drawing together.

You raise an eyebrow, and his frown deepens.

"Fine, maybe I was," he says, turning his attention to the packed seating area. He scans the room again, his eyes moving from table to table, studying the occupants. They're mostly couples, a few groups of friends, but the place is busy, and Wolffe's unease seems to grow.

"See anything interesting?" you ask, bumping him with your hip.

"No," he replies as his eyes come back to rest on you. He leans down, brushing his lips against your cheek. "Just making sure no one gets any ideas."

You laugh and shake your head.

"No one is going to bother me, Wolffe."

"After the day we’ve had, I'm not taking any chances,” he grumbles, and you turn, stepping closer and looping your arms around his waist. He doesn't hesitate to pull you into his embrace, and the two of you stand there, watching as the food is prepared and the people come and go.

When your number is finally called, Wolffe's arm stays locked around your waist, his grip tight and sure as he guides the two of you towards the exit.

The walk back to the speeder is uneventful, but the air is cool, and the sky is clear, the stars shining bright overhead. You lean into his side, and he turns, pressing his lips to your hair, holding you close as the two of you walk back.

The streets are still busy, and the sidewalks are lined with people, the sounds of conversation and laughter floating around you. You can see the neon signs of the restaurants and bars that line the streets, the bright colors and flashing lights a sharp contrast to the calm night.

The two of you come to a stop outside the speeder, and Wolffe moves to open the door for you, but you skirt around him, snatching the bag of food from his hand. You hop onto the hood of the speeder and turn, grinning as he glares at you.

"Really?"

"I'm hungry," you say, shrugging and opening the bag.

He huffs, his lips pulling into a frown.

"And you expect me to sit here and eat on top of the speeder?"

"I don’t expect you to do anything. I'm going to sit here and eat my food," you state, and you take a bite of a fry, making a show of letting out a pleased moan.

Wolffe watches, and the longer he does, the more you can see the cracks forming. He glances around the parking lot, his gaze shifting from one car to another, his eyes flicking over every darkened corner and shadow. When he's satisfied no one is watching, he walks over, his steps heavy. He steps between your legs until his thighs are pressed against the hood, and he leans forward, his hands coming to rest on either side of your hips.

You swallow and look up at him, and he raises a brow. His face is impassive, but his eyes are alight with humor. You take another bite and grin, and his expression softens, the corner of his mouth turning up in the barest hint of a smile.

"Well, are you going to share, or not?" he asks, tilting his head.

"Hmm, I suppose I could," you begin, and you reach into the bag and pull out a fry, bringing it up to his lips. "Open."

Wolffe hesitates for a moment before leaning in, his mouth parting. You push the fry in, and his lips close, his teeth sinking into the potato. You try not to stare as he chews, his mouth moving slowly. He's not trying to be sexy, but the way his jaw moves, the way his lips press together, has you entranced, and a shiver runs through you, heat pooling low in your stomach.

He swallows, and his tongue darts out, licking his lips.

"Good?" you ask, your voice barely a whisper.

"Decent," he answers, his gaze fixed on your lips.

"Just decent?"

"Mhm. I could do without the grease."

"That's half the point,” you say, laughing softly.

“You’re a doctor, shouldn’t you be telling me not to eat garbage food like this?"

"No. I'm the Chief Medical Officer, not your mother. You can eat what you want," you retort, and you pull out a burger. You carefully unwrap it and offer it to Wolffe. "Eat this."

Wolffe stares at the burger in your hand, his expression flat.

"Why are you looking at it like it's poisoned?"

"Because it might be."

"Oh Force," you mutter, and you pick up a fry and shove it into his mouth. "Eat. Both. Or so help me, I will drag your sorry ass back to the infirmary and have the droids hook you up to a nutrient drip."

He gives you a look, but he takes the burger from your hand and bites down, chewing slowly. His expression softens, his eyes widening, and his eyebrows lift as he takes another bite.

"You're right," he says, swallowing. "It's good."

"I told you. I always know best."

"You're impossible," he mutters around his food.

"And yet you're still here."

"Where else would I be?" he asks, giving you a sidelong glance.

You can see the affection in his eye, the way his cheeks turn pink, and the smile that threatens to break out. He tries to hide it, but his walls have always been easy for you to see through, and you know him better than anyone.

"Oh, I don't know, off chasing after a new woman," you tease, and his expression turns sour.

"Don't be stupid," he grumbles, taking another bite.

"Well, why wouldn't you?"

"Because I have a beautiful, intelligent, infuriating woman who loves me right in front of me. And I love her," he states, the last words coming out a little softer than the others.

You blink, and he blushes, turning away.

"So that's why I'm here," he finishes. He reaches for another fry, popping it into his mouth.

A grin spreads across your face despite your best efforts to stop it, your cheeks warming. Wolffe never talks about his feelings. Not in the way most people do. He's a man of few words, and when he does open up, it's never as flowery or sweet as his brothers. But the things he says, the small moments when he lets his guard down and tells you the things he wants, or how he feels, are so much more meaningful.

He's told you he loves you before, but it's not something the two of you say often. You know it, and you think it, every moment you're together. The fact that the two of you even have the chance to have moments like these, where you can just be yourselves and not the faces people expect, is enough.

"I love you too," you say, your smile widening. Wolffe meets your gaze, his eyes soft.

"I know," he murmurs.

"Good. Because I'm going to tell everyone you said that."

"Don't you dare.”

You give him a shrug, and he scowls, taking another bite of his burger. You chuckle and reach for another fry, popping it in your mouth and chewing, looking out over the lot. It's a nice night, and you take a moment to enjoy the feeling of the breeze on your skin, the coolness a stark contrast to the warmth of the man between your legs.

You can't help the smile that spreads across your lips as you watch Wolffe, his cheeks stuffed with food. He's enjoying himself, and while he'd never admit it, the food is helping him sober up. His cheeks are less flushed, and his eyes are brighter, less hazy.

He'll sleep well tonight.

Wolffe catches your eye and smirks, and you smile back. The two of you finish your meal in comfortable silence, the occasional laugh or comment passing between the two of you. By the time the food is gone, the lot is all but empty, the streets quiet and still.

"That was good," he admits, crumpling the wrappers and tossing them into the bag.

"You know, that's what I said about the nerf steak, and the dumplings, and the soup, and the fish, and—"

Wolffe huffs and places his hands on either side of your hips, leaning down and nuzzling your neck. You squirm, trying to push him away, but he's stronger than you, and all it does is bring him closer.

"Alright, alright, I get it, you've got good taste,” he murmurs, and you giggle as he nips at your jaw. "Now, are we going home or not?"

You shiver, and a smirk pulls at his mouth, pressed against your skin. He knows exactly what he's doing, and you don't know whether you want to slap him or kiss him.

You opt for the latter.

You slide your fingers through his hair, the dark strands silky under your touch. He lets out a quiet groan and tilts his head, his hands moving to grip your hips. His lips are warm and insistent, and the faint taste of jorganfruit lingers on his tongue as it runs over your bottom lip. You let him, and he kisses you slowly, his hands running over your back, pulling you closer until there's not a sliver of space left between the two of you.

The two of you make out in the parking lot for longer than you should, your mouths moving lazily, your bodies flush against each other. Neither of you can bring yourselves to care that anyone could walk up and see the Commander of the 104th kissing his medical officer like a lovesick teenager, and neither can you bring yourselves to stop.

If anything, you think Wolffe is enjoying the display a bit too much. His kisses become bolder, more consuming, and his hands wander, running up and down your sides and over your ass. He presses until your back is flat against the hood of the speeder, and his thigh bullies its way between your legs, nudging the apex of your thighs. He doesn't do anything more, doesn't grind or move against you, but his intention is clear.

You pull back, and Wolffe makes a sound of protest, leaning forward and chasing your lips. You laugh and place a hand against his chest, gently pushing him back.

"Wolffe," you say, trying to put as much authority into your voice as possible. It's not easy when you can feel the warmth of his thigh between your legs, his breath hot against your mouth.

He doesn't move.

"Wolffe," you repeat, your voice dropping into a whine.

He doesn't answer. Instead, he tilts his head, pressing a series of slow, lingering kisses against your neck. They start behind your ear, his lips dragging over your throat, stubble scratching your sensitive skin. He's gentle, his touch almost reverent, and you let out a soft moan, arching into him.

He takes advantage of your distraction to move his thigh, pressing it snugly against your center. Your head falls back, and your hands curl around his arms, squeezing. You can feel the muscle flex beneath your fingertips, his strength evident even under the layers of clothing.

Wolffe presses another kiss to your skin, his teeth grazing your throat, and you know that if he doesn't stop, the two of you are going to end up doing something in the middle of a parking lot that will  have you seeing Fox for the second time tonight.

"Wolffe," you breathe, and this time, it's more of a gasp than a command.

"Cyare," he rumbles as he pulls back, his eyes dark and filled with something you know very well.

"Take me home."

His eyes narrow, and his hands tighten around your waist. He's not going to take no for an answer.

"Or we can stay here, and I can bend you over the hood," he murmurs, and your face grows hot.

"Wolffe!"

He chuckles, the sound low and gravelly, and his hands run over your back, smoothing out the wrinkles in your clothes.

"Just saying," he says, giving you a teasing smile. You push him away with a hand on his chest, and he goes willingly, backing away from the hood and offering you his hand.

"You're terrible," you chide as you take it, sliding off the hood and straight into his embrace.

"Maybe," he murmurs, and his hands settle low on your waist, holding tight. "But you like it."

You roll your eyes, but you can't deny the fact that you very much do like it, and the fact that the man holding you is the only person you've ever felt like this with. He's the one who can bring you to the edge of your control with just a few touches, a few words, a kiss.

He's the one who makes you feel wanted, and desired, and loved.

He's the one who holds your heart, and the knowledge of that makes your head spin, a dizzying mix of arousal and affection washing over you.

"Let's go home," he whispers, and the look in his eyes says everything.

He's thinking the same thing, and his control is waning, the tension between the two of you thick and heavy.

You nod, and Wolffe wastes no time. He guides you around the front of the speeder, opening the door and helping you inside. He takes the bag from you and tosses it into a nearby can before sliding into the passenger seat. You turn to ask if he's ready, but the question dies on your lips, replaced by a squeak as he pulls you into a kiss, his hands cupping your face, his fingers tangled in your hair.

It's brief, his lips brushing yours once, twice, before he's pulling away, leaving you breathless and wanting.

"Thank you for dinner," he whispers against your lips.

"You're welcome," you reply, breathless and smiling.

"But if we don't leave now, I'm going to fuck you in the backseat, and then we're really going to be in trouble," he growls, and you shiver, heat pooling between your thighs. He pulls back and gives you a look that says he means business, and you bite back a whine as he settles back into his seat, fastening the harness.

"Let's go," he orders.

You're quick to obey, starting the engine and taking off. The ride back is silent, but the tension between the two of you is tangible. It's heavy and demanding, and all you can think about is the man sitting beside you, the way his mouth feels, and his hands, and how good it's going to feel when he finally has you alone.

Wolffe’s hand, heavy and warm, comes to rest on your thigh.

You swallow and press your foot down a little harder.

The city drifts by, and it isn't long before you're flying down a street lined with artificial trees, their branches reaching towards the sky. A few blocks down, and you're turning, entering the parking area below your building.

You park and kill the engine, and the two of you sit in silence for a moment. The lights from the streetlamps filter through the windshield, casting the interior in a soft glow. You take a deep breath, and Wolffe turns, his eyes catching yours.

“Are you ready to go inside, cyare, or do you want to do this here instead?" he asks, his voice low and gravelly.

A blush spreads across your cheeks, but you can't find the words to respond. Instead, you unbuckle your seatbelt, and his mouth twists up in the corner, a smirk spreading across his lips.

"Alright then, let's go," he murmurs, and his hand slips from your thigh.

He's out of the speeder and around the front, opening the door before you can even reach for the handle. He helps you out, his hand steady and warm as he pulls you into his arms. He closes the door behind you, and then he's walking, leading you towards the lobby.

You follow him inside, and the man at the front desk does a double take, his eyes wide as they land on the pair of you. You offer him a small wave, and he waves back, his face slack with surprise.

"Evening,” Wolffe greets, low and gruff. His hand finds the small of your back, gently guiding you to the lift.

“Have a good night,” you call over your shoulder as the two of you pass.

"You too, Doctor," the man answers, his gaze still fixed on Wolffe.

You press the button for the lift, and it comes to a stop, the doors sliding open. Wolffe wastes no time in ushering you inside and hitting the button for your floor. He stands close, his hand still pressed firmly against the small of your back.

The doors slide shut, and Wolffe steps in front of you, his eyes intense as they meet yours. His hand moves, sliding over the curve of your ass, cupping and squeezing. You let out a surprised squeak, and he huffs, a smirk twisting his lips.

"What? You thought I'd be able to wait until we got upstairs?" he murmurs as his head dips, his lips hovering a hair's breadth away from yours.

"I thought you were going to try," you whisper, trying to hold back a shiver.

"Mm, no. Not tonight.”

You can feel the warmth of his breath on your lips, the closeness making your head spin. His hands move over your body, and his eyes roam over your features, his gaze heated. He looks hungry, his desire clear in the way his eyes linger on your lips as you reach out, your hands moving to the buttons of his uniform.

"I think I can agree with that," you murmur, undoing the first button. Your thumb runs over the small patch of skin bared at the hollow of his throat.

Wolffe grunts, his eyes fluttering shut. You can feel the shudder that runs through him, and his hands come up, his fingers wrapping around your wrists. He doesn't push them away, though, instead, holding them loosely as you undo another button, then another.

You take your time, savoring the feeling of his skin beneath your fingertips. You know he's struggling, the need for control warring with the urge to give in. He doesn't often let himself lose control, always focused on the task at hand, but tonight, he's off duty, and the man between the lines of command and the soldier has shown his face.

And he's desperate.

The lift dings, and the doors slide open, the sudden noise startling the two of you. Wolffe's grip tightens as he lets out a frustrated sigh.

"Fucking hell," he mutters, turning and guiding you into the hall.

You chuckle, and his hand squeezes your hip, his expression darkening.

"You think this is funny, huh?" he growls, his voice dropping an octave.

You bite your lip, but the grin spreads across your face, the smile bright and full. Wolffe's eyes narrow, and a hand moves, sliding over the curve of your ass. A yelp escapes you as his fingers dig into your flesh, the sensation shooting straight between your legs.

"Oh, it's funny," he mutters, shaking his head.

He pushes you forward, his hand guiding the two of you towards your door. It's only a few steps, but it feels like a mile, his touch firm, the promise of what's to come clear in the way his grip tightens the closer the two of you get. You can feel his presence looking behind you as you unlock the door, your hands shaky and fumbling.

He doesn't say anything, but the heat in his eyes is unmistakable, his desire evident. He's going to make you pay for that smile, and while a small part of you is nervous, the rest is excited, eager to see how he's going to get his revenge.

You open the door, and before you can even step inside, his arm is looping around your waist, lifting you off the floor and into his arms. He steps into the entryway and kicks the door closed, the slam echoing in the otherwise empty apartment.

"You're a fucking tease," he grumbles, kicking off his boots.

"Me? A tease?" you ask, incredulous. You squirm in his arms, and his grip tightens. "Who was the one who couldn't keep his hands to himself the entire night? Or the one who tried to seduce me in the parking lot?"

"You're one to talk. If you weren't such a damn menace, we would have been in here hours ago,” Wolffe counters, his grip tightening around your waist. He steps around his discarded boots and carries you into the kitchen, flicking one of the cabinet lights on with his shoulder. You kick off your heels as you go.

"You know, I think I remember you being the one to pin me to the hood of the speeder,” you point out, and you raise a brow, giving him a look.

Wolffe sets you down on the edge of the counter and places his hands on either side of your hips, leaning close. You lean back, and his hands slide over your thighs, gripping and pulling until his hips are pressed between your knees.

"Well, I'm not sorry,” he says as he dips his head, nuzzling your neck. “It was the best part of my night."

"It was?"

"Mhm."

"Better than the fight?"

"Much better," he answers, his breath hot against your skin. His teeth graze the spot just behind your ear, and you shiver. Your legs wrap around his hips, and your hands find his shoulders, curling around the fabric of his uniform.

"That's high praise, coming from the Commander," you tease, tilting your head and allowing him more access.

Wolffe chuckles and presses a kiss to the hollow beneath your ear.

"Mm, well, the Commander likes a good fight, but the man prefers spending his time like this," he murmurs, his hands moving up, sliding under the hem of your shirt.

His fingers trail along your sides, running over your skin in lazy circles, the touch firm. You can feel him everywhere, the warmth of his hands, his lips, the way his hips press against yours. The outline of his cock, hard and insistent, brushes the inside of your thigh, and you shudder, pulling him closer.

"Like this, huh?"

"Mhm."

"And just what does the man have in mind?" you ask, biting back a moan as his hands dip lower, running over the curve of your ass. He squeezes before continuing on, fingertips dancing over the tops of your thighs until they settle between them, his thumbs rubbing firm circles into your skin.

He lets out a thoughtful hum, the sound rumbling in his chest, his breath hot against your skin. It takes all your self-control to keep still, but the anticipation is delicious, the knowledge that he's going to do whatever he wants, and you're going to let him, a heady rush.

Wolffe pulls back, his gaze roaming over your face. Even his clouded cybernetic eye can't hide the lust, the way his eyes have darkened, the black almost completely consuming the brown of his iris. His cheeks are flushed as he studies you, and his lips are red and slightly swollen from where he's been biting them, trying to hold back the noises he wants to make.

"What does the man have in mind? Let me see," he murmurs, his fingers curling around the fabric. He pops the button of your pants and pats your thigh, and you obey, lifting yourself so he can tug the clothing down your legs. He drops them to the floor, his gaze returning to yours.

"Well?" you ask, a smile playing on your lips.

Wolffe doesn't answer. Instead, he reaches out and cups your sex, the fabric of your underwear a thin barrier between the heat of his palm and your aching core. His touch is gentle, barely there, and yet the pressure is enough to send a spark through you, your skin prickling. You swallow, and his lips turn up, the hint of a smile spreading across his features.

"Let's see," he begins, his finger tracing a line over the damp fabric, drawing a gasp from your throat. "First, I'm going to undress you."

His hands move, his thumbs hooking into the waistband of your underwear, fingertips sliding over the smooth expanse of your skin. He pulls the fabric down slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. He watches as you shift and shiver, his expression calm, the only sign that he's not unaffected the slight tremble in his hands.

"Then, I'm going to taste you, get you ready for my cock," he continues, his voice rough.

His touch is slow, methodical, the drag of his knuckles and fingertips torturous. Your underwear slides down, and you let out a small whine, the fabric bunching around your thighs.

"And when you're all nice and wet, and you're begging for me, I'm going to fill you up, and fuck you, nice and slow," he growls, his hands running over your legs, sliding your underwear down and tossing them to the floor.

Your face grows hot, the blush spreading across your cheeks and down your neck, the heat creeping down until it settles low in your stomach. Wolffe's eyes track the movement, and he finds the hem of your shirt, pulling the fabric up and over your head, his hands immediately cupping your breasts over your bra.

"What do you think about that, cyare?" he asks, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, the fabric rough against your sensitive flesh.

You bite back a moan, and his brows raise, expectant. You know what he wants, and you can't bring yourself to deny him, not when his hands are already on your body, his fingers working the clasp of your bra.

"Yes, please," you whimper, reaching up and sliding your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

"See? That wasn't so hard," he says, his lips twitching. He unclasps the garment, and it falls open, the fabric sliding down and joining the rest of your clothes on the floor.

You're left bare before him, exposed, and Wolffe takes a moment to drink in the sight. His hands come up, his fingers tracing the curve of your neck, the slope of your shoulder. They run over the swell of your breast, his touch feather-light, the contrast between the cool air and the warmth of his skin raising goosebumps. He continues down, over the plane of your stomach, the ridges of your ribs, until he comes to rest against the flare of your hip.

"Perfect," he breathes, his gaze returning to yours.

His mouth is mere inches from yours, his breath ghosting over your lips. He doesn't move, and neither do you, the two of you locked in an intense stare. You're waiting, wanting, and it's a battle of wills to see who will give in first.

You lose.

Your head tilts forward, and Wolffe is there, meeting you halfway. His mouth closes over yours, the kiss gentle, tender, nothing like the rough, demanding way his hands grip your hips, his fingers pressing into the soft flesh.

It's the opposite of the words that tumble from his lips, the things he says, the filthy promises whispered between heated kisses. But it’s so him, the juxtaposition of the gentle and the rough, the soft and the demanding.

It's everything, and it's all you want, all you need.

Wolffe groans as your lips part, his tongue darting out, tasting the sweetness of your mouth. It's slow, his pace measured as he licks his way inside, his movements controlled and steady.

"You have too many clothes on," you murmur against his lips, and Wolffe huffs, pulling back.

"I guess I do," he says, his eyes roaming over your body, lingering on the curves and dips.

His gaze is so heated that it's nearly palpable, the intensity bringing a blush to your skin. He steps back and takes a deep breath, and you squirm as he stares, taking in the sight of you perched on the counter, spread out like an offering.

He reaches for his uniform, popping the buttons, his movements slow. The fabric parts, revealing the tight white undershirt, the thin material straining over the broad planes of his chest, dark hair peeking out from the collar.

You bite your lip, watching as he shrugs off the outer layer, his eyes fixed on you. The fabric slides down his arms, his muscles flexing as he works. His movements are fluid, easy, but each one is deliberate, his gaze never leaving yours.

"Wolffe," you groan, biting back a frustrated noise.

"What?" he asks, his tone innocent.

He drops his shirt to the floor, his fingers hooking into the fabric of his undershirt. He peels it up, slowly, his eyes shining with amusement as he exposes his toned stomach, the planes of his chest, and finally, the broad expanse of his shoulders.

"Are you in a hurry, cyare?"

"A little," you admit, the words coming out breathy.

Wolffe grins and steps closer, his hands finding your knees. He pushes them apart with ease, his palms sliding over your skin, his touch firm.

"I guess I can't blame you," he begins, his gaze drifting down to where your thighs have parted. "I mean, look at you."

"Wolffe, come on," you mutter, trying to close your legs.

His hands move, holding you in place. You don't stand a chance against his strength, the muscle of his arms rippling as he pushes you back, his palms running over your inner thighs.

"Shhh, let me enjoy the view," he chides, his eyes moving over your exposed skin.

You can feel his gaze like a physical touch, his eyes drinking in the sight of you, naked and bare before him. His hands run over your thighs, and then his thumbs are dipping into the apex, spreading you open.

"Look at how pretty you are," he rumbles as he brings his thumb up, running the pad gently over your clit, his touch barely there.

A whimper escapes, the contact not nearly enough to satisfy. You want more, but he doesn't give it, his thumb moving lower, dipping into the heat of your entrance. You shiver, and Wolffe makes a pleased noise, his eyes flicking up to meet yours.

"And I haven't even done anything yet," he teases, his thumb pressing into the sensitive flesh, circling your opening.

"Please, Wolffe," you whine, and his brows raise, the corner of his mouth turning up.

"Oh, I like the sound of that," he murmurs, his eyes darkening. "Please, what?"

You glare, and Wolffe smirks, his gaze dropping back to the apex of your thighs. He presses his thumb in further, his knuckle catching against the edge, and the contact sends a shiver down your spine. You bite your lip and squirm, heat coiling low in your stomach.

"Please, what? Use your words," he murmurs, his tone dripping with saccharine sweetness.

"Stop teasing," you hiss, trying to press down against his hand.

Wolffe's lips pull into a frown, and his grip tightens around your hips. He yanks you towards the edge, his hands keeping you from sliding off, and you cry out, a spike of arousal shooting through you at the rough treatment.

”Try again," he says, his tone dropping an octave.

You take a shaky breath and glare, and Wolffe's expression grows darker, his fingers pressing into the soft flesh of your hips. He's waiting, his eyes fixed on yours, the weight of his gaze heavy and expectant.

"Please, just...I want—"

"You want, what?"

"I want your mouth," you breathe, heat rushing to your face.

Wolffe hums, his thumbs rubbing circles against the inside of your thighs. The gesture is meant to be soothing, but it does nothing to quell the ache that has settled between your legs. He watches, waiting, and when he's satisfied with the desperation that's seeped into your expression, his lips curl up into a smirk.

"Good girl."

The praise sends a wave of warmth through you, and the blush spreads, creeping down your neck, the heat settling against your chest. Wolffe lets out a pleased rumble and leans forward, nuzzling your neck.

"That's what I wanted to hear," he murmurs, and then his mouth is on you, trailing slow, lingering kisses down the column of your throat. He pauses and sucks the sensitive skin between his teeth, biting and nibbling until a mark blooms beneath his lips.

He continues down, his mouth moving over the swell of your breast, his tongue flicking out, licking a path between the mounds. He pays the same attention to each one, his lips closing over your nipple, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh.

A moan escapes, the sound loud in the silence of the apartment. Wolffe huffs a laugh and presses a kiss against your sternum, his hand sliding over your waist, his fingers dancing across your stomach.

"Let me hear you," he says as his lips drift lower, his tongue trailing over the line of your ribcage, his stubble scraping your skin.

He kneels, and the sight alone is almost enough to send you spiraling. Wolffe is the very picture of devotion, his hands warm and reverent as they run over your skin, his mouth gentle and sure as it moves over the soft expanse of your stomach. He presses a kiss just above the line of your hip, and you can feel the way his lips curl up, his eyes fixed on you.

"So beautiful," he breathes, his voice muffled against your skin.

His words are sweet, but the hand that grips your thigh, pushing it back, is anything but. It's demanding and firm, a wordless order to spread your legs. You obey, and the grin on his face is wicked, his eyes flashing.

"There we go, just like that," he murmurs as he leans in, his nose brushing against the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh. 

His lips trail higher, his mouth warm and wet as he sucks the tender skin between his teeth. You can't help but squirm, the sharp sting of his teeth followed by the soothing sweep of his tongue sending a rush through you. When he sucks another mark onto the opposite side, you let out a whine, your hips bucking against his grasp.

"Don't move," he growls, his voice low and dangerous.

You still, the commanding tone enough to make you freeze. You've seen the way Wolffe can get when he's in the mood, and while it's fun to tease him, to rile him up, there’s something about the way he’s looking at you that says tonight isn't the time.

Tonight, he's not going to let you get away with a single thing.

"Yes, Commander," you whisper, and the sound that escapes him is sinful.

"That's my girl," he rumbles. His tongue darts out, sliding over the skin. "I knew you'd listen."

He gives you a few more languid kisses, his mouth moving slowly, deliberately, working his way up until his lips are brushing the apex of your thigh. Finally, the first kiss lands, a soft brush against your clit, the touch feather-light and barely there. You bite back a groan, your head falling back, but you keep still.

"Good girl," he praises, and you can feel the smirk against your skin as he presses another kiss, his lips dragging over the sensitive bud.

The feeling sends a spark of heat through you, the praise mixing with the gentle drag of his lips. He knows exactly what you like, but he seems in no hurry to give it to you. Instead, he's content to tease, his tongue darting out, giving a few long, lazy licks before retreating.

He repeats the process, his tongue moving over you in slow, methodical strokes. He laps at your entrance, lapping up the wetness that's gathered, the taste of you filling his senses.

It's not enough.

Not nearly enough.

Wolffe pulls back and blows a stream of air against your heated skin, the coolness making you squirm.

"Wolffe," you whine. “Please."

"Shhh," he says, and his thumb comes up, rubbing small, gentle circles over your clit. "Let me taste you. I told you to stay still, didn't I?"

You don't answer, and he leans in, nipping at the soft flesh. You let out a squeak, the sound turning into a moan as he sucks on the spot, soothing the sting with his tongue.

"Cyare," he begins, and his voice is stern, his grip tight.

"I know," you mutter, forcing yourself to relax.

"That's better," Wolffe says as his hands move, trailing over the inside of your thighs. His touch is firm, his fingers tracing the path his lips just took, his palms spreading your thighs wider.

He doesn't keep you waiting long.

Wolffe's tongue drags a path from your entrance to the tip of your clit, the feeling so intense that you nearly miss the way his thumb hooks against the hood, exposing the sensitive bundle of nerves. The next lick is followed by the gentle pressure of his lips closing over the bud, his tongue swirling. It flicks over your clit, once, twice, before dipping lower, the tip sliding inside your entrance.

"Oh," you gasp, your hand flying to his head, tangling in the soft strands.

"Mm, so wet," Wolffe groans, and his tongue slips deeper, the muscle pressing against the silken walls.

He works you open, his tongue curling and twisting, fucking in and out, the wet sounds echoing in the room. You can't help the noises that spill from your lips, the moans and whines mingling with the sound of Wolffe's mouth as he devours you, his hands keeping your hips firmly pinned against the counter.

You're lost in the sensations, the feeling of his tongue, the pressure, the heat of his mouth, the way he groans as his head moves, his eyes fixed on you. Your fingers curl, tugging at his hair, and the vibration of his answering groan has your head falling back, the breath stuttering in your chest. Arousal pools heavily between your thighs, oozing over his tongue. He laps it up, his pace quickening, his nose brushing against your clit.

He fucks you on his tongue until you're dripping, and then he pulls back, his breathing harsh. The sound is obscene, the wet, sucking noise enough to make your face flush hot. You watch as his lips part, his tongue snaking out, licking up the mess you've made. He doesn't miss a single drop, his movements measured and thorough, his eyes fixed on yours.

"You're perfect," he murmurs, fingers tightening their hold.

You open your mouth to speak, but no words come out, the compliment taking you by surprise. You're still getting used to his more open displays of affection, the things he says when the two of you are alone. The Wolffe that the world sees is nothing like the man who kneels before you, the soft, gentle side that he saves just for you.

You reach out, and Wolffe's lips curl into a smile, his cheeks pink and warm under your palm. He leans into your touch, his eyes closing as your thumb brushes over the scarred ridge under his eye. The moment is tender, a stark contrast to the things he's said, the way his hands have moved, his grip firm.

He looks at peace, and the sight has your heart melting, a warmth spreading through you, pooling low in your stomach. Wolffe's eyes blink open, and the warmth turns into heat, the flames stoked by the hunger that's crept into his gaze.

He wants, and you want him to have.

"Wolffe," you begin, but the rest of the words are lost as his mouth closes over your clit.

He sucks the swollen bud between his lips, the pressure firm and steady. He's relentless, the flat of his tongue stroking the length, the tip flicking and swirling. You’re overwhelmed by the intensity, and there’s no time to brace yourself before two fingers slide home to the hilt and curl.

"Oh, fuck," you gasp, arching into him.

A satisfied grunt rumbles through his chest, the vibrations going straight to the apex of your thighs. The suddenness of the intrusion, coupled with the heat of his mouth, the drag of his tongue, is enough to send a hot wave of pleasure through you, and your toes curl, the first tingles of an orgasm building in the base of your spine.

"More," you beg, tugging at his hair.

Wolffe lets out a soft noise, something between a groan and a growl, and his hand moves, slipping from your hip and sliding under your ass. His fingers dig into the plump flesh, the touch firm. Your back arches, and he pushes you forward, tilting your hips.

You have no choice but to lean back on your elbows, his strength too much for you to fight. Your head falls back, your neck strained to look at him, but the new angle leaves you spread wide open, his lips sucking eagerly.

"Oh, fuck, yes, just like that," you whimper as the pressure builds, the sensation coiling low in your core and spreading along your thighs.

He's merciless, his tongue and fingers moving with purpose, and his hands guide your movements, pushing and pulling you, your body pliant beneath his touch. He's completely in control, the position allowing him to do whatever he wants, and the realization sends a fresh wave of arousal through you, a gush of wetness dripping down his fingers.

Wolffe doesn't seem to mind, his nose buried against your skin, his tongue working. The sounds that fill the air are obscene, the slick, wet noises mixing with the filthy moans and groans that fall from his lips.

"You're so good, Wolffe, so good," you praise, a strangled moan escaping as he presses his fingers in deep. He curls, rubbing them over the spongy tissue, his mouth closing over your clit.

Your words seem to spur him on, his movements growing bolder. His grip on your ass tightens, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. He's relentless, his tongue and fingers working in tandem, his rhythm unwavering.

The coil in the pit of your stomach grows tighter, the familiar pressure building until it threatens to break. Your legs come up, wrapping around his shoulders, pulling him close, and Wolffe obliges, his hand leaving your ass to press his arm over your hips, pinning you in place.

You let out a choked noise at the show of strength, the muscles of his arm flexing as he holds you down. Your mouth opens, but the only sound that escapes is a series of short, breathless gasps. The fire spreads, burning through you until you're a quivering mess. It's too much, the combination of his mouth and his fingers and the way he looks between your thighs, his eyes dark and filled with something akin to adoration.

It's the thought that breaks the dam.

His lips wrap around the bud of your clit, and the first flick of his tongue has you toppling over the edge, the pleasure bursting through you. Your head falls back, your eyes screwing shut, and a long, drawn-out moan leaves your lips. You can feel yourself gush around his fingers, and Wolffe groans, his fingers picking up speed. Your thighs clamp around his head, and your nails dig into his scalp, and you hold on, a choked sob escaping as your body writhes beneath him.

Wolffe doesn't slow. He fucks you through the waves, his mouth working, his fingers rubbing against your walls, drawing the pleasure out and coaxing another, smaller orgasm from you. It crashes over you in a burst of sparks behind your eyelids, shooting down to your fingers and making your toes curl.

It's only when your hips jerk away from his mouth, oversensitive, that he finally relents, pulling back with a wet pop.

"Fuck, cyare," he breathes, and his voice is hoarse, his breathing ragged. "So beautiful."

"Wolffe," you croak, unable to formulate a proper sentence. Your head spins, and you have to force yourself to breathe, to relax, your heart racing. The release has left you feeling drained, and all you can do is lay there, gasping and whimpering as Wolffe's tongue gently cleans the mess you've made.

He pulls away, a wicked smirk playing on his lips, his chin glistening with your release. He looks proud and a little smug, but the effect is ruined by the dazed look in his eyes, the way he leans into the hand that cups his cheek. You watch, transfixed, as he stands, gently maneuvering you until you’re sitting up, your back resting against the cupboards.

“Good girl, take a breath," he whispers, running his hands over your legs, gently massaging the tense muscles.

You obey, taking a deep, shuddering breath. The oxygen clears the fog, and when you finally open your eyes, it's to the sight of Wolffe, his hands undoing the belt at his waist. 

"I need to be inside you," he says, the words a low, raspy growl, barely audible underneath the sound of the metal buckle clinking against the counter.

The noise has you swallowing, your mouth dry. You watch as he slides the leather out and sets it down, the thud of the metal buckle against the countertop making you jump. His eyes dart to the offending item, and a smirk pulls at his lips.

"Nervous?"

You shake your head, and his expression softens.

"Good. No need to be, not with me," he says, and the belt is forgotten, his hands returning to his pants.

"I'm not," you whisper, and your eyes move over his chest, taking in the dark hair and the smattering of scars, the dips and ridges of his muscles, the broad expanse of his shoulders, and the way his arms flex as he pushes the fabric down his hips.

"I know, cyare," he says, his expression gentle. He's watching you closely, his hands coming up, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No," you reply, the word coming out breathless. Your eyes are locked on the damp spot that's darkened the grey fabric, the bulge of his cock straining against the material.

"Then what do you want?"

"I want to see you."

Wolffe's breath catches, his eyes widening slightly.

"Okay then," he murmurs, his voice low.

His thumbs hook into the elastic band, and he pushes the fabric down, the hard line of his cock finally free. It's heavy, hanging between his legs, the tip flushed a deep red. The sight has your mouth watering, and your eyes follow the thick, pulsing vein that runs the length, the bead of pre-cum that has gathered at the tip, slowly dripping down.

"Like what you see?" he teases, reaching down and wrapping his fingers around his length.

"Always," you breathe.

You watch as he gives himself a few long, slow strokes, his fist closing around the head. The motion brings a bead of precome to the tip, and he spreads it down the shaft, the movement slow and deliberate.

"Are you sure you're not nervous?" he asks, his voice soft.

"A little," you admit, the words coming out shaky.

You know exactly how thick his cock is, but the sight of him standing between your thighs, the head level with your stomach, always takes your breath away.

"Shhh, I've got you," he says, stepping closer. "I'm gonna make you feel so good."

You nod, and Wolffe's hand leaves his cock, his fingers curling around your ankle. He lifts your leg, guiding it up and over his shoulder, his lips pressing a soft kiss against the inside of your knee. He reaches out and runs a knuckle down the length of your sex, the contact gentle and teasing.

"So beautiful," he murmurs.

His other hand moves to his cock, lining himself up. The head bumps against the inside of your thigh, and you gasp, the wet heat searing against your skin. It leaves a trail of precome, and the sight has your heart rate picking up, the anticipation coursing through you.

"That's my girl," he whispers, his hand sliding up, fingers brushing the swollen bud.

Your hips jerk, and the tip of his cock catches against your entrance, the slick head nudging at the opening. It's enough to make him grunt, the muscles in his neck straining, his hand squeezing the base of his cock.

"I'm gonna put it in, cyare, and I want you to stay nice and still, okay?"

"Okay," you agree, your hands gripping the edge of the counter.

He gives a few experimental thrusts, the head sliding against the wet heat, spreading your slick along his shaft. He pushes in, the first inch, and the stretch is immediate.

"Fuck," he hisses, and his hand drops, his thumb moving to press against the hood of your clit, rubbing gentle circles. "Just relax, sweetheart, take a deep breath."

You do as he says, sucking in a deep breath and forcing yourself to relax. The pain fades, replaced by the intense stretch, the pressure of his cock. He's not even halfway inside, and already you feel so full, the feeling almost overwhelming. It feels like it's been years since the last time he had you like this, his body pressed against yours, and it takes all your willpower to remain still, to keep from fucking yourself onto his cock.

"There you go," he says, and his tone is gentle, his expression soft. "Just like that."

He rocks his hips, the head sliding in and out. Each thrust is easier than the last, the silken walls loosening and allowing him deeper. Wolffe’s eyes flutter, his mouth falling open, his fingers moving against your clit. He's lost in the sensation, the tight, wet heat of your pussy clenching around his cock, and you can't help but stare, watching the way his brows draw together, a sheen of sweat already forming on his forehead.

"Fuck," he mutters, his voice strained. He grinds deeper as if trying to get as close as possible, the action drawing a whimper from your lips, and he stops. "You okay?"

You can only nod, tears prickling in the corners of your eyes as his tip kisses the end of you. It's too much, the stretch, the heavy weight of his cock, and yet it's not enough. You need him deeper, his skin against yours, his weight bearing down on you, pinning you beneath him.

"Words, cyare. I need words."

"Please," you gasp, trying to rock your hips.

He shakes his head and squeezes your hips, keeping you still. His jaw is clenched, and his eyes are shut tight, his brows drawn together in concentration. You can feel him pulse inside you, the throbbing a steady beat, his cock twitching with each squeeze of your walls.

"Wolffe, please, fuck me," you beg, a desperate whine escaping.

Wolffe's eyes open, and his gaze finds yours, his expression softening.

"There she is," he murmurs, the corner of his mouth turning up. "That's what I like to hear."

He presses a kiss to your ankle, and he doesn't take his eyes off yours as he pulls out, his length dragging against your walls. It's torturously slow, his movements measured and precise, and he keeps his pace, his hands gripping the soft flesh of your thighs, his palms hot.

"Such a pretty girl," he says, the words strained. He thrusts into you, a slow, steady roll of his hips. "So good for me, letting me take my time, letting me enjoy the way you feel."

"You feel so good, Wolffe," you moan, arching into him.

"Oh, I know," he grunts. "I can feel it."

His thrusts are steady, each one hitting the same spot, his pace never wavering. He keeps his movements slow, his eyes never leaving yours. He's watching you, gauging your reactions, taking note of every sound, every facial expression.

You've been intimate before, but tonight feels different, and you realize that Wolffe isn't in a hurry, not anymore. He's taking his time, enjoying the feeling of being buried inside you, of watching your reactions. The lines around his eyes and the creases in his forehead have smoothed out, his jaw no longer clenched tight. The tension has melted from his shoulders, replaced by something that looks suspiciously like contentment.

"Is this okay?" he asks, his voice low.

You can only nod, unable to speak, your mind a foggy haze.

"That's good, that's so good," he murmurs, and his lips turn up, his expression soft. "I like having you like this, all to myself."

You whine, and his smile grows, the tips of his canines flashing in the dim light. He's beautiful like this, his head bowed, his dark hair hanging in his face, a reverent, awestruck look in his eyes.

"Do you like this, too?" he asks, the words punctuated by a firm thrust, his hands gripping your thighs.

"Yes," you gasp, a moan slipping out as he hits a spot deep inside you, sending sparks down your spine.

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

"Good, because I think we should do it more often," he murmurs, leaning in.

"Yeah?"

"Mmhm," he breathes, and his nose brushes yours, his lips a breath away.

He's so close, the heat radiating off his skin. You can taste the sweetness of your release on his lips, and you want to lean forward and claim them, but he's just out of reach, and all you can do is stare.

"You're a tease," you whisper.

"I think I can live with that."

His eyes move, roaming over the exposed expanse of your body, and they linger on the place where his cock is buried, the skin stretched and glistening. He bites his lip, his hands gripping the soft flesh of your thighs, and his pace quickens, his hips snapping against yours.

The feeling has your toes curling, and you try to reach down, to stroke the bud of nerves that is aching for contact.

"No, no. Not yet," he chides, his hand grabbing yours and pulling it away. He brings your wrist up, pressing a kiss to the tender skin. "I'll get you there. Be patient."

You pout, and Wolffe smiles, a crooked, mischievous grin. He lets go of your hand, his palm coming to rest on your stomach. His thumb finds the spot, rubbing circles over the sensitive flesh, his gaze never leaving yours.

"It's not fair," you mumble, trying not to squirm.

"Mhm, tell me about it."

He presses down, his finger rubbing the spot in lazy circles, the pressure intense.

"How does it feel, cyare? To have my cock buried inside you, nice and deep?"

"Feels good," you breathe, arching into his touch.

"Does it?" he asks, and his eyes flicker down, watching as he pulls out. He pauses, the head caught against your entrance, the tip shiny with your arousal.

He stays there, the two of you joined by the very tip, his length coated in a mixture of fluids. The sight is obscene, the slick mess dripping from his cock and down his balls, the fluid coating the tops of his thighs.

"Look how messy you are," he breathes, his eyes wide.

"All for you," you murmur, and his eyes snap to yours, his lips parting.

"Fuck," Wolffe mutters.

He guides your leg off his shoulder, hooking his arms underneath both of your knees. He spreads you open, and the sight of his cock sliding in, the thick length disappearing into the mess, makes you groan, a fresh gush of wetness slipping from your entrance.

"Wolffe, please, I want more," you beg, trying to press closer.

“More, she says," he huffs a laugh, and his fingers dig into your legs, the pressure almost bruising.

"Yes," you moan, nodding.

"Then you're going to get more."

The words barely have time to register before his cock is slamming home, his hips pressing flush against yours.

You cry out, your back arching, and he wastes no time in setting a rough, unforgiving pace. His grip tightens around your legs, and he bends, leaning over your body, his hands planted on either side of your hips.

The angle allows him to drive deeper, and you can feel his pelvis grinding against your clit, the roughness of his pubic hair scratching against the sensitive skin. You try to move, to meet him halfway, but the position, coupled with his strength, leaves you immobile. All you can do is lie there and take it, his cock splitting you open.

"Oh, fuck," he grunts, his pace never slowing. His eyes are fixed on yours, the dark brown and grey shining with pleasure. "I could stay like this forever, just buried in that sweet cunt."

"Yes, yes," you cry, the words tumbling from your lips.

"Do you want that? Do you want me to fuck you all night, keep you full?"

"Please," you beg, arching into him.

"Fuck," Wolffe groans, his eyes falling closed. His pace picks up, his movements growing frantic, and he leans forward, his hands wrapping around the tops of your thighs. He uses his hold as leverage, tugging you towards him, the motion causing your head to knock against the cupboard.

"Sorry," he pants, and he reaches out, his hand cupping the back of your head, the gesture almost tender. "Fuck, I'm sorry."

"Don't be, please, just—"

"I've got you," he whispers, and his lips press against the side of your neck. "I've got you, sweetheart."

"Please, Wolffe, I'm so close," you plead, your nails digging into the skin of his forearms.

"I know," he growls, and his hips snap, the feeling making you gasp. "I'm right behind you."

His lips find the juncture of your neck and shoulder, his teeth scraping against the skin. He bites down, the pain sharp, and a cry escapes as he sucks, hard. The delicate capillaries underneath your skin break, a purple-red splotch blooming in the wake of his mouth.

"Oh, fuck," you gasp, his mark sending a fresh wave of arousal through you.

"Mm, there's my girl," he grunts. "I'm not going to last, sweetheart. You're going to have to come for me, okay?"

You nod, unable to form the words, and you reach down, your fingers finding the apex of your thighs He's pressed so close that your hand brushes the coarse hair covering his pelvis, the tips grazing the base of his cock.

"Come on. Let go," he urges, his breath hot against your neck.

Your fingers brush over the sensitive nub, and you're sent over the edge, your climax hitting so hard that the room begins to spin. You're barely aware of his voice, urging you on, praising you as your walls flutter and pulse around his cock.

"That's it, let me feel it," Wolffe groans, his pace growing sloppy, his hips jerking erratically. "Fuck, I'm gonna come."

You can feel the way his length pulses, his cock throbbing as his release builds, and then he's following after you, a long, low moan rumbling in his chest. He pushes in deep and grinds his pelvis against your clit, his movements frantic as his orgasm washes over him.

You're vaguely aware of his body jerking, his hips moving erratically, and then his release is flooding you, the warm liquid painting your walls. He fills you up, his seed leaking out and dripping onto the counter, the mess smearing over the smooth surface.

"Oh, shit," he hisses, his arms trembling. He sags, his forehead dropping against your shoulder, his breathing heavy.

You can feel the sweat-slick skin, his chest rising and falling, the movement uneven. He's shaking, his body trembling as his arms finally give out, and the weight of his upper body presses down on top of you.

"Hey, are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," Wolffe replies, his voice muffled. "Just...just give me a minute."

"Wolffe?"

He doesn't answer, and you reach up, your hand threading through his hair. It's damp, the locks plastered to his scalp, and you run your fingers over the soft strands, trying to soothe him.

"I'm fine," he says, his voice quiet.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," he replies, and his body shudders, his limbs growing heavy. You hear him inhale sharply through his nose, and then his arms are sliding under your back, wrapping around you. He's clinging to you, his embrace almost too tight, and you can feel the way his heart is racing, the rapid-fire beat thudding in his chest.

"Wolffe," you whisper, and his head shifts, his chin resting on your shoulder.

"It's okay, cyare. I'm alright, I promise."

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," he says, his voice soft. "I'm just..."

He trails off, his face turning, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to the spot where his teeth had been moments before. You shiver, the feeling making your walls clench, and Wolffe lets out a shaky breath, his hands gripping tighter.

"It's just...tonight was a lot," he murmurs, his mouth moving against your skin.

"Yeah," you agree as you run your fingers through his hair.

"It was intense, and I needed...well, I don't know what I needed, but this helped. Being with you, having you here, it helps," he says, his tone quiet. He pulls back, eyes glassy, his gaze searching.

"I'm glad," you say, swallowing.

"I love you," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the curve of your neck.

"I love you, too," you reply, a smile pulling at your lips.

Wolffe falls silent, his eyes closing, and you can feel his muscles relax, his body sagging. The exhaustion is finally catching up with him, the adrenaline of the fight, followed by the intense release, leaving him drained. He's spent, and the realization has a fondness blooming in the pit of your stomach.

He's always so tough, and it's rare that he lets his guard down, even when the two of you are together. It's not the first time he's shown you his softer side, but tonight seems different. Tonight, it's the most vulnerable you've ever seen him, and you can't help but admire him, the way his face has gone slack, his brows no longer drawn, his eyes no longer filled with pain.

"You're tired," you say, running a hand through his hair and pushing the damp locks from his face. "Let's get cleaned up, and then we can go to bed."

"I don't want to move," he mutters, burying his face against your neck.

"Wolffe, come on. Up," you coax, your hands running over his shoulders. You drag your nails down the back of his neck, and he shivers, his arms tightening around you.

"No. 'M comfortable," he mumbles, his mouth pressing against the soft skin below your ear. His lips drag over the shell, and he sighs, his breath hot against your skin.

“There’s no way that’s true,” you tease, and you pinch his side, making him jump.

"Hey!"

"Up, please. My ass is falling asleep."

"Fine," he huffs. He cracks his eye open and gives you a pointed look, and then he's shifting, pulling out, the mess of fluids following.

"Fuck, that's a lot," he murmurs, his hand reaching between your legs.

You shiver, the feeling of his fingers slipping against your slickened skin almost too much.

"Stop it, Wolffe," you chide, and you're rewarded with a grin, the look in his eye mischievous.

"Alright, alright," he relents, pulling his hand away. "Can't blame a man for wanting to play a little."

"You can play all you want in the morning," yo say, giving his arm a gentle squeeze.

"I'll remember that."

"You better," you retort, and he chuckles, the sound making you smile.

Wolffe finally straightens, his back cracking as he stretches. He rolls his neck, and a pained groan escapes, his face twisting into a grimace. You wince, and he lets out a tired laugh, his lips curling into a half-smile.

"I'm getting old."

"No, you're not," you argue, sitting up.

"I am. I can feel it. Next thing I know, I'll be one of those old men, complaining about my back," he says, rubbing a hand over his jaw.

"Well, if you'd stop being such an idiot and letting people throw you through tables, maybe it wouldn't be an issue," you mutter as he approaches with a damp washcloth, the fabric warm and smelling faintly of soap.

"Ah, you can't blame me. I had a good reason."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah," he says, and the look in his eyes is soft. He reaches out, running his thumb over the apple of your cheek. "I had a feeling I was going to get a nice reward for my efforts."

"Oh, did you now?"

"I did," he replies as he works, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "And I think I'll get a few more in the morning."

"I bet you do," you say, unable to hide the smile that's threatening to spill over.

"Now, hold still. Let me get this cleaned up."

You nod, and Wolffe's eyes move, his gaze drifting over your body. He takes his time, wiping away the mess that's coated the tops of your thighs, and his touch is gentle as he cleans between your legs, his motions measured and precise. When he's finished, he throws the cloth in the hamper down the hall and returns, scooping you into his arms.

"I'm not completely useless, you know," you say, wrapping an arm around his neck.

"Oh, I'm very aware of that," he replies, his lips twitching. "But I want to carry you."

"Alright, then," you murmur, unable to deny the warmth that spreads through you at the gesture.

Wolffe carries you through the apartment and down the hall, his steps slow and steady. The lights are dim, and the darkness is peaceful, the sounds of the city outside muted. It's late, and you know the two of you should get some sleep, but the thought is drowned out by the comfort that comes with being pressed against him, his arms strong and secure around you.

"Think we still have time for an episode of Love Island?" you ask as he nudges the bedroom door open.

Wolffe chuckles, the sound low and soft, and you smile, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

"Yeah, cyare. I think we do."

taglist: @covert1ntrovert @stellarbit @spicy-clones @kindalonleystars @totallyunidentified @lovelytech9902 @frozenreptile @etod @puppetscenario @umekohiganbana @resistantecho @dindjarins1ut @tech-aficionado @aynavaano @burningnerdchild @ihatesaaand @lolwey @chocolatewastelandtriumph @hobbititties @mere-bear @thegreatpipster @lordofthenerds97 @notslaybabes @ayyyy-le-simp @mali-777 @megmegalodondon @dangraccoon @heavenseed76 @bimboshaggy @bunny7567 @lostqueenofegypt @anything-forourmoony @9902sgirl @jedi-dreea @salaminus @ghostymarni @gottalovehistory @mrcaptainrex @maniacalbooper @burningnerdchild @callsign-denmark @julli-bee @moonychicky @sonicrainbooms @captn-trex @feral-ferrule @webslinger-holland @marchingviolist @deerspringdreams

[fuyungus]

Jason Todd wants to give you a sip of your own medicine ?!?!

disclaimer: reader and Jason are both 18 in their last year of highschool

Jason Todd was usually your friends and your own target, you would push him, you would throw papers at him, he was smaller than you so you make fun of him for being a boy and so small, so skinny, so ugly, he needed to wear glasses and braces. You would make him fall or take his glasses without his permission.

Jason Todd hated you all of his years on elementary school. Until 6th grade, when he left the school. You grew and sometimes felt bad about all the people you bullied as a child.

You apologized to many of them for your behavior, almost all of them except Jason Todd.

On the first day of your last year in highschool, the teacher made you all sit down quick, there was one boy, a new boy. He sat on the back of the classroom, playing with a pencil in his hand.

"Class, we have a new classmate, get up and introduce yourself Mr...?" the teacher waited for him to reply.

"Todd, Jason Todd" your eyes opened as wide as they could, he was not Jason Todd, he was not the little skinny boy you bullied all of your elementary school years. No, he was different, he was so tall, and buff, you couldn't believe what you were seeing.

A couple of days passed, you tried as hard as you could to sit closer to him so you could apologize. But he was so distracted, so in his own world as always, only that kept reminding you he was the same boy.

When you were walking towards the bathroom you saw him and this was the perfect moment to apologize. "Jason!" you shouted, he turned around with a pissed face. "Oh I could recognize that voice anywhere" he had a shit eater grin you wish you could smooth out of his beautiful face.

"Hey Jason, I just wanted to say...I'm-" he cuts you off "Ah, you want to apologize?" he chuckles softly. "I'm really sorry, Jason..." he holds your face with his huge hand. "Are you really? or is this just a excuse to kiss me?" your heart skipped a beat and your face went completely red. You didn't think about it so much, you kissed him, his hands were all over your body. "Let's go to the bathroom so we can catch up, yeah?".

The man's bathroom was filled with nasty noises, skin slapping with skin, moans, whines, grunts, praises, degrades, a little bit of anything.

You both were inside of one of the cubicles, with your hand on the wall, your skirt lifted and Jason four-eyes Todd was pounding at your cunt from the back, holding your hips by each side with his big hands, his nails digging on your flesh.

His hand rushed to your clit and started doing circular movements. "Fuckkk, Jason I'm gonna-" he cuts you off again by pulling his dick out of you. He pulls his pants back up. "Why did you stop!?" he still had that fucking grin on his face.

"You seriously thought I was gonna let you cum?" and he left you, all horny in the man's bathroom.

[anaburbononburbon]

18+, MDNI

-

Gimme gimme gimme desperate Soap and a pretty thing that can't stop fucking each other. All over one another when he's back from deployment. Real nasty stuff. Talking: wall to wall, kitchen countertops, bed, floor, couches, outside on walks.

Vibrating cockrings in public spaces. Remote controlled vibrators on drives.

Two, desperate, horny little devils.

Soap is in heaven.

For about....six months.

Eventually, it'll wear on him. Tired from work. Too tired to always give it to you like he needs to, but he isn't a quitter! He does it, no complaining on his end.

But the team notices. Ghost first, of course. Johnny is comin back worse for wear off of leave, and it doesn't sit right with Ghost. No, no it doesn't. That's his sergeant, his best man. So, he watches and waits.

Gaz notices second. Soap and Gaz are two peas in a pod and he can't help but stare as Johnny walks in the rec room with dark circles around his eyes, winces as he sits down and immediately passes out when he relaxes in the couch, snuggled to his best mate.

Breaks Gaz's heart.

Cap notices last, but immediately pulls him and the rest of the team in his office to ask him straight:

"What's goin on, sunshine? You feelin okay? Everything olright at home?"

And god, Soap appreciates the thought, but is mortified that his lack of jokes, tired eyes and sore muscles have been noticed by everyone.

He tries to play it cool. Laughs it off. Tells everyone to stop worrying. Attempts to pick himself from his seat, but Ghost immediately shoves him back down.

"Someone hurtin you, Johnny? Someone we need to take care of?" Soap almost wants to cry. His team is so fuckin sweet, but there's no way he can admit what's actually happening.

"Say the word, Soap, and it'll be taken care of. No questions asked." Kyle rubs his shoulder, offering him support and comfort in this difficult situation.

Soap breaks.

"Not what you think it is..." He whispers, thinking about you. Your lips around his cock. Your tight holes around his dick. His own tongue deep inside you.

Over and over and over-

"What is it, son? What's goin on?" John cares about his team. He cares about his boys. He wants them happy. Wants them thriving. They were in a fucked up line of work, and every day wasn't promised.

Least he could do was make sure his men were taken care of. That they were being taken care of.

"It's too much." It was soft. A confession. Something he didn't mean to say out loud, but was ripped from his throat all the same.

"What's too much, Johnny?" Ghost whispered back, his hand finding his knee and squeezing it gently. Both his and Kyle's hands pulling and pushing Soap into an ease that he hadn't had in quite awhile.

Johnny broke.

"My...my lass and I we're...she's draining me fuckin dry!"

Silence.

Not what they thought he would say...

"Your lass is-" Kyle couldn't even ask before Johnny threw his head back and sobbed.

"My fuckin dream is my nightmare, Kyle! Can you fuckin believe it? Fuckin right embarrassin, I'll tell you. She's the best. Sweet. Cooks. Cleans. Has hobbies. Never cries when I'm gone. Never upset when I leave at a moments notice. Just smiles, kisses me and wishes me well. God, Gaz, I'm in fuckin love with her. She's perfect. But...but..." Johnny shakes his head. Swallows thickly and breaths deeply.

"But?" Cap presses, his arms crossed against his chest, plans forming in his head.

"Fuckin insatiable, that one is. It was fine at first. Fun! Sex everyday. Multiple times a day. Wake up with my cock down her throat and go to sleep deep in her cunt. Keeps me warm all the time, Cap. Begs me to fuck her right in the arse at midnight. Eats my arse like she's mad at it. Fuckin heaven I tell you lot! But...but I'm so goddamn tired. I'm so sore from it all. And I don't ever want to tell her no, you know? She...she's my sweetheart. And she's been through some things and, not my place to tell, but I want to make her feel wanted. That's what she does to me. And I need to do the same. Just some days...it's hard." Johnny laughs, shaking his head at his outburst. "Fuck, here I am, whining and bitchin because I can't tell her no...fuck me. I gotta just, say it. Be honest. Be open. Let her know that I'm not just some machine. That I need some rest."

It's quiet. Conversations are happening without Johnny being involved.

Kyle readjusts in his chair.

"Insatiable thing, you say?" Johnny smiles brightly, nodding his head.

"Fuck yeah. Sweet thing, fuckin fooled me the first time. Went for hours before I finally passed out inside her, pinnin her down to the floor. How I found out she likes to go to sleep with a cock in her."

"Nasty little thing, huh, Johnny?" Ghosts asks, remembering what Soap said about her devilish tongue.

"Oh, LT. You wouldn't fuckin believe. Made me piss on her the second week I moved in. Had to convince her to let me do it in the shower. Kept trying to do on the bed. Fuckin feisty when she wants." Johnny couldn't help but squeeze his hardening cock, remembering vividly that night. Your smiles. Your mouth opening. Your giggles. You were a fuckin angel.

"Needs some good lovin, that right, Soap?" Price asked, leaning back in his chair, lighting up a cigar as Johnny smiles wide, hearts for eyes.

"Needs all the lovin, Cap. Can't take a compliment. Dishes em out like currency but refuses to acknowledge any back. Love holding her down and tellin her how perfect she is, how gorgeous she is. How she was made for me. She tries to hide her face. Wants to pull away, but I don't let her. Gotta make her see it, you know?" Price hums, filing it away for later.

Simon sits back in his chair, stretching his neck side to side. Thinking of things that he can't say quite yet.

"Can't tell her, Johnny." Johnny freezes at his words, his heart catching in his throat and his eyes widening.

"What you mean, LT? I thought...I mean-I-" Johnny stutters, thinking he made a big mistake. He shouldn't have said anything. Everything is ruined.

"He's right." Kyle says, now massaging both of his shoulders, trying to get Johnny to relax and accept what they were offering. "You need a break, mate. Need to relax. But your lass? Poor thing is neglected every time you're out and about. She waits every day for you to come home and make her feel good. Make her feel like she belongs. Bet she looks forward to you home more than she does waking up." Kyle waits, still working the knots out of Johnny's shoulders and letting it settle into his core. Kyle brushes his lips against Johnny's ear, letting him shiver at the closeness of his fellow sergeant. "You just need someone to help you out with her." Johnny's eyes bulge out, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

"Might need more than just one person, from the sound of it." Cap has a grin on his face, predatory and exhilarating. Johnny's cocks his head, his thoughts running away from him as he takes in what his team is saying.

"Think you might need the whole team, Johnny." Simon's whispers, and it's settled.

Now...how to tell you.

[reverieblondie]

Tiefling man (or men—if you feel like writing multiple) of your choice pinning you to a wall and biting/nipping your throat.

Sorry this took so long! I was kinda taking an unofficial break from request, But now I am back to doing them! So excited! I am very proud of this one I rewrote it from what I originally had so I hope you like it! Also I couldn't think of anything for Dammon so I used @sinkuna / @dark-and-kawaii OC Kieran. I love him so so much!

(Rolan, Cal, Zevlor, and Kieran)

18+ MDNI! Fem Reader, SMUT!

Rolan

Is he… trying to intimate you or eye fucking you? 

As you look over to Rolan, you see him staring at where you are leaning over the front counter, waiting for Cal to get you the scroll you ordered. You are not unaware of Rolans staring problem, but you're never one to back down from a staring contest. So, game on Archmage. 

When you start staring, you notice how Rolan at first seems a bit surprised with how his eyes widen the size of saucers and his skin flushes a bit darker; you think for a second he's going to look away, but then when you smile he seemed to look less tense… 

The longer the silent game went on, the more smug he became; you watched him get comfortable as he leaned against the wall of books with his arms folded and an arrogant smirk on his lips. Then he walked over, never once leaving your gaze. Closer now you watched as his eyes wander over you, his body coming so close to yours, and right as his lips part. He breaks the gaze by looking down at his feet. And you erupt in glee. 

"Ha! Too bad, Rolan, you lose." 

You should have guessed it from the look on his face; he looked so confused and kinda hurt…

Before you could say anything else or even ask, Cal interrupted with a chipper smile and your scroll. Rolan took that moment to move away without a word. You watched as he made his way to the stairs, but before he left, he turned to look over at you one last time, his brow furrowed, his broad shoulders now slumped, and his lips in a prevalent frown. Rolan let out a quick scoff before quickly disappearing up the stairs, leaving you with more questions than answers. 

You wanted to follow after him, but if he was angry, you didn't want to push it. 

"What's the matter with Rolan? Did I interrupt something?" Cal asks, concerned. 

You continue to stare off, baffled, before turning to Cal, "I have… no idea. We were staring-" 

"Oh! You finally noticed?" -huh?  

You turn to him and lift your brow at him to elaborate, "You finally noticed how he looks at you, right?" 

"Um, I thought it was a staring contest… What do you mean how he looks at me?" 

Cal shakes his head with a sympathetic smile, "You have to figure it out; I'm not explaining it. He wouldn't want me to." 

So, you left… but, of course, as you got home, you began to think, and your mind immediately went to Rolan. He was the one staring at you with those keen, bright eyes first. Why did he have to get so angry with you? It had been going so well…

Ugh! This is so frustrating. If he has a problem, why doesn't he just talk to you? He has never had an issue with it before, nagging at you with that… soothing, sexy voice. 

You roll your eyes; this is ridiculous… Maybe you should go talk to him? No! If he has a problem, he has to come to you! And that's exactly why you're going back to sundries to make him have to come to you! 

Sure, it's hours later, and they will be closing the store soon… but Cal still told you where Rolan was hiding for the rest of the night while he dragged Lia out to the tavern for the rest of the night. You're not exactly sure what he had in mind, but you're not complaining about it. 

You walked through the quiet halls of the tower, looking through the endless bookshelves, hoping to run into him. Finally, turning a corner, you see him reading at his desk, his profile so sharp and striking, and his nose. You don't know whether to bop it or ride it. 

Rolan finally peers up from his book, meeting your eyes, and you watch as he jumps, muttering something in a deep infernal. He fixes his posture before walking over to you with a sneer. 

"What are you doing here?" 

You scrunch your face into a matching scowl of your own, "I came to see what your problem is?" 

Rolan looks at you confused, as if you have sprouted a second head before moving back to one of irritation. "My problem? You're the one coming in here unannounced!"

"You're acting weird, I thought we were playing a game." 

Irritatingly, he tilts his head adorably." Game? What are you talking about?" 

You feel a sharp sting in your chest, "Yes… you know, the one you started with your staring." 

Rolans face turns a bright red, "I… I do not stare." 

Rolling your eyes, you're becoming increasingly annoyed with this denial thing. "You stare like you've got a problem." 

You watch as he grits his teeth; you're about to continue making your point in the argument, but you're quickly cut off as he marches over to stare you down. You look up, and it's that same look in his eyes from earlier… but now that he's closer… It looks different. 

"My problem is that you think everything is a game…" He places his hand on your cheek as the other rests against the large shelf behind you, "And when I look at you, I have this… feral urge to make you mine every day." He leans in closer to whisper, "And that's not a game." 

To say you're shocked is an understatement… You feel your pulse race, and your stomach flutter. He places his forehead against yours, "Please say something…"  

Your blood rushes through your body to your lower stomach, and as he moves to lean into your neck, tracing your pulse with his hose and his breath fanning over your sensitive skin.

"Do it…" You say as you touch his chest, feeling his heart racing, and move your hands up to cup his jaw, looking into his golden eyes and his firm lips. "I want to be yours, feel this 'feral urge'" 

You almost want to laugh at that last part; imagining Rolan, someone so composed, going feral, seems like an impossibility. Then you feel his lips against your neck, followed by the feeling of the points on his teeth. The feeling has your body's temperature rise as you cling to his shirt, your thighs tightening the deeper he bites. 

He pulls away before he can break the skin, kissing the dull, deliose pain away as his hands slide down your body to hold onto your hips. You Can't resist yourself as you wrap your legs around his hips and feel his straining length pressing against your sex. The feel of him makes you gasp, and Rolan is quick to catch your lips in a searing kiss swallowing down your moans as he teases your clit through the thin fabric restraining you two. 

The more he ruts against you, the wetter you get, and you can tell from how he begins to whine in his throat he can feel you seeping through the fabric. It doesn't deter him, and he wraps his tail around you and buries himself into your neck. You're begging for him to stop teasing and to split you open on his cock as you reach up to grab one of his horns. 

That's all he needed to hear before he ripped off your soaked panties and bit down on the curve of your neck, letting the trickle of iron fall on his fevered tongue, and his cock teased your quivering entrance, taunting you to beg for more.

Cal

It's another night spending the hours playing drinking games and sharing stories of your recent adventures with your fellow patrons, just waiting for him to walk through the door… You two had been writing letters back and forth since the day you had left, and now, as you make your way back to the city, you're hoping to see him again. 

Your fingers anxiously tap as the noise around you becomes a dull drone of sound, and your eyes stay fixed on the door. Then he walks through; Cal walks in with that friendly smile as he surveys the room. Then his eyes meet yours, and you see how his grin gets a bit brighter, and your heart races a bit quicker. It's hard not to be smitten with him; you have been pining for a while now… but no matter what you do, that dork just can't seem to take the hint. 

Cal weaves through the crowd, and you're quick to stand on your feet to meet him in the middle; as soon as you're in reach, he's lifting you up in a sweeping hug. Yeah, when others do this same embrace, you are quick to dodge, not wanting to be touched, but something about feeling Cal's muscles coil in his arms and feeling the strength of his hands as he slightly squeezes your back, tickling you with the points of his claws. Well, it's just so much better… 

After your little twirl leaves you feeling weightless, Cal is quick to take you to the bar, "I want to hear everything you have gotten into!" 

"You know if you want adventure, you should join me on my next trip. Think Rolan can spare you for one?" 

Cal smiles, tilting his mug around to play with the golden fizz inside, "Well, I would love that, but I'm not much of an adventurer… Maybe I could be the camp guard and help make your meals!" 

Oh, someone needs to wife him up…  -That person could be you if you stop dragging your feet!

You quickly grab his hand and squeeze it, "I think that sounds like a grand idea." 

Time and everything else just seems to disappear when Cals is around; you two get lost in sharing stories and lame jokes. He truly is the best part of this city…  And it turns out you're not the only one who knows this…

Though everything around you sounds just like endless yammering, you hear a sentence that makes your ears twitch. 

"Isn't that the archmages, brother?" 

"Yes, isn't he cute? He's apparently really nice and can practically lift a crate of books with one hand." 

"Think he could throw me around then?"  

No! That's your plan! You throw a glare at the two sudden rivals in the room while also trying not to be noticed by Cal. Lucky for you, he doesn't, but the two staring solely at him don't really notice you either. You need to show that you're his, and there will be no cutting in. While you're racking your brain for an idea, you feel a hand nug your chin up, making you meet Cal's bright eyes. 

"Hey, you look like you're zoning out. Are you ready to leave?" 

You're quick to mutter out a string of nos as you grab onto his arm. Cal tilts his head, confused, but you just go with the first thing you can think of, "I'm sorry… I'm just… cold?" 

"Cold? But the fire is right there?" Cal points to the roaring fireplace stationed nearby, and you're kicking yourself for your lack of awareness, but you will not be deterred! 

"Well… I'm still cold… Could I hold your hands?" You mutter as sweetly as possible. Cal, being the gentleman, doesn't even question it before he grabs your hands with a big smile. Please, gods, don't let your hands get sweaty. 

You feel his thumbs rub slowly over your hands, and you just have to take the plunge, "I wish I had this all the time." 

His thumbs stop before you hear him chuckle loudly. -Okay, not what you were expecting. 

"Yeah, it is pretty nice; I don't have to worry about getting cold as easily." 

That's not what you meant… 

You hang your head down to stare at your boots; why did you have to fall for such a loveable airhead. You thought that was the perfect approach, direct and sweet. But… maybe that's not clear enough. Maybe it's going to have to be you showing him and everyone in here. You're already doing your fair share of public affection by holding his hand, what's a little more. 

So you just go for it and lean into him, pressing a kiss on his cheek. You know your face is beat red by the sheer amount of heat you feel radiating off of you. Building up your nerve, you peer up and see Cal looking surprised, but at least know he finally understands…

Cal just smiles at you with earnest eyes, "You're so sweet, you know that?"

You let go of his hands and slumped against the table, "I'm not trying to be sweet... I'm trying to be alluring... Show you how I feel... to see how you feel..." 

"Re-really?" He sounds surprised, and it only makes your heart squeeze more the damn ditz. "Well, if you want to know how I feel… we should probably go somewhere private." 

Your head pops up, and you see his cheeks a shade of dark red, and he bashfully rubs his neck. 

"Wait, are you saying you like me too?" 

He holds his hand out to you, "Do you want me to tell you? Or do you want me to show you?" 

The choice was clear… 

You retake hold of his hand and let him lead you through the crowd, wearing the proudest smirk on your face. Once alone, Cal gently pins your body to the nearest wall while his tail coils around your thigh as his lips slip against yours. He angles your mouth to open where he lips in his tongue past your lips to tease yours. 

A soft whine slips from your throat as his grip only tightens on you; he parts from your lips and traces your neck with his tongue. "You know how long I have been dreaming of tasting you?" 

"H-how do I taste?" 

Cal pulls back to meet your eyes; he gives you a quick kiss before he drives his fingers underneath the hem of your trousers, "So far? Like the heavens, but I need more to really know." 

With a nod of your head, Cal is sinking to his knees, pulling your pants down over your hips and past your thighs. They are not even to your ankles yet before he is driving his forked tongue over your slick folds and growling into you. You throw your hands up to brace yourself as he sinks his claws into the flesh of your thighs and parts you open on his hot tongue. 

"Just what I thought, definitely sweet…" 

Zevlor

You know what you're doing; you've been doing it for hours just to get him bothered... and much to Zevlors chagrin, it's working. 

It started this morning when he woke up to you wearing his favorite shirt… One of the few that are tattered with rips and holes. Zevlor watched as you pranced around him all morning in that shirt, giving him coffee and making him eggs, but when he would reach for you, you would step away with a smirk. You watched as his face twisted in worry, but you made sure to just shrug it off with a sweet smile. 

"Sorry, Commander, I have errands to run."

Zevlors' brow lifted at the name; he was used to 'darling' or 'my sun,' but 'Commander' was a new one that was definitely making him feel a bit flushed. He could tell you were up to something, and he couldn't help but take the bait. 

"Would you like company, my dear?" 

You let out a long hum like you were actually considering it before you agreed to let him "tag along." By the time you two had made it to the city, he had figured out you were playing a game and acting like a true brat. Walking in front of him and demanding your way? Pouting and huffing at anything that might suggest you wouldn't get your way. He racked his mind, wondering if he might have upset you, but nothing came to mind. What was your deal? 

Well, your deal was simple… Get Zevlor riled up so that he will take care of this newfound brat attitude of yours. It was an idea Shadowheart had given you, and you were excited to see if the famed zero-tolerance hellrider would come out… but he needed a bit of a push. 

You stopped abruptly in his way, making him run into you as your ass pressed against his groin, "I have something for me in there." 

Zevlor watched your pointed finger as you pointed to a fairly unassuming shop, but walking in was a different story… He had never seen such tiny and sheer clothes in one place. Feeling like he would be out of place in a shop clearly not meant for him, he offered to wait outside. But that wasn't going to fly with your plan. 

"Aw? Shy? Come on, I thought you Hellriders were an unbothered brave bunch?" You stepped closer, tracing your finger over his chest. "I got something custom made, you know… I wanted to show you…" 

So there he sat, waiting for you on the other side of the curtain; you, of course, made him wait till you heard his throat clearing, a tic of his to show he was uncomfortable. Once that was heard, you were throwing the curtain back and giving him a preview. A tight corset number that pushed your breast up to be practically spilling out the top and the rest of the outfit? Practically non-existent. A small triangle of cloth covered your mound, and when you turned, your ass was completely exposed. 

"A thong." you simply said with a smile.

It took everything in himself to not dig his nails into you and bend you over. But you two were in public, so he told himself not to wait until he got home, but you were making it hard…

"It's lovely. Are we taking it home today?" you could hear the hope in his voice. 

"No, it's still being worked on," you said matter-of-factly, and it took you everything not to squeal when his face furrowed. 

"Did… you just do this to tease me?" 

You played with your hair as you watched him from the mirror, "I don't know? Is it working?" 

Your fate was sealed. As you two left the shop, you both knew the game that was being played. It was just a manner of seeing when the other would crack. Zevlor was determined to make it home while you were just waiting for the snap.  

As Zevlor watched you stroll through the city, he noted how everything you did seemed to be laced with temptation. Your hips swaying, your eyes lingering, and your lips always in a glossed smirk, practically toying with him. But Zevlor is a gentleman, and though his eyes are currently leering on your ass, he won't just bend you over the nearest cart. You deserve better than that. 

You didn't want better than that. 

As you walk, you realize that your plan isn't working, and it's causing your teeth to grind. There has to be something to get him to scold you or show you any kind of unfiltered desire… Then, a thought flicks into your mind. With a whisper and a flick of your hand, you summon a simple spell, just a random wind gust. Just enough to get some action going…

The sudden gust of wind forces your skirt to fly up as you turn... and there he sees you, completely bare for him... Zevlor can no longer hold himself together.

You watch his face twist from shock to a stern stare before he marches over, grabbing your hand and dragging you out of sight. 

"Do you have any idea what you're doing?" he growls from under his breath, making your skin tingle. 

You would be lying if you said you weren't excited about your scolding from the ex-hellrider, but what happened was something you didn't see coming. He led you through the alley to the shadows. Zevlor is quick to press you to the nearest wall with his body pinning you in place. His full lips so close and his glowing eyes furrowed, you parted your lips to continue to taunt, but the words were cut from your throat as you were spun to face the wall and not your Commander. 

"I've had enough of your teasing..." his rich voice husked into your ear as his hands frantically lifted the back of your dress. 

You whimper as the cool air breezes across your exposed ass, "Teasing? I don't know what you could possibly-" 

A hot slap strikes across your ass, making you gasp into the stone wall. 

Zevlors hand caresses your flushed flesh, "Please continue to lie if you want to bend over my knee. You have been teasing me, haven't you?" 

You nod, and it's another slap to your ass that makes your eyes roll to the back of your skull, "Your words, please." he demands. 

"Yes, I- I wanted my commander's attention…" 

The weight on your back eases, and you turn to look at him over your shoulder; you see him with a smile that makes your knees weak. Then a flicking over your clit as you're keening and curling forward at the intensity.  

Zevlors hands spread across your ass, digging his hands into your flesh … "If you want my attention, you shall have it." 

His hand joins his tail, parting your slick folds and teasing your entrance, while the other works at the laces on his trousers, "Now, what should I do with such a brat?" 

"The spanking was doing something…" 

His trousers drop, and you feel his lips on your skin as he brushes aside your hair and his index and middle fingers push into your quivering hole with a painful, slow cadence. He is going to make you beg by the end of this, isn't he? 

"You're lucky I don't have my belt today." He curls his fingers in you, finding the spot that has your toes curling and your breaths picking up. "But I can figure out other ways to make you listen." 

Needless to say, your plan worked perfectly.

Kieran

Your nails dig into your palms as you press yourself further against the tavern's dark wall. You're a room away from everyone else, just like he planned…

Kieran's sharp teeth shine even in the darkness, and he watches your nerves take over your body. He traces his finger over your racing pulse, "How come every time I see you, you get all shy? You think I'm going to hurt you?" 

It's true since you met him, you have always claimed up in his presence. Maybe it's because of his striking beauty… or his reputation… The other servers warned you of his cruel tendencies. So you tried to keep a distance, but that must have made him want to seek you out more. Taunting and toying at you, and now he's got you alone and pinned.

 “Well… I…” 

He steps closer, bringing his arms to cage you against the wall. You look up to see him smiling, and his eyes glow. Gods, why is he so handsome? He could be the man of your dreams if he didn't have such a reputation. 

"Well, now you're trapped, so answer my question? Do you think I'm going to hurt you?" 

Your body shakes, and your thighs tighten, "Yes…" 

He brings his lips to your ear, "Yeah? You might be right…" 

Then you feel his teeth sink into your neck. You squirm in his hold at first, terrified, but as he bites down, he leans further into you, soothing you with his body heat and the feeling of his hands sliding from your chest down to your ass, pulling up your dress. The pain dulls into a bliss that has your body feeling like you're floating. You don't even notice how your panties are moved to the side by your own hand, touching yourself. Kieran parts from your neck to watch you with a grin. His tail coils around your ankle as you move your hand faster and faster against your sex. 

You don't know if it's a spell or if it's your desire… but you can't stop yourself from wanting him. Before you can reach your bliss, he moves your hand away, looking at the slick coating of your fingers. He laughs at you at first, making your chest cramp up in shame, and then you watch as he licks your fingers clean. 

"Spread your cunt for me, shy girl…" He lifts your body off the ground with your legs spread open wide. You hold tightly onto his neck, digging your nails into his skin, fearful he will drop you. 

Your skirt is trapped up your hips, and your stockings are ripped from his hands, scratching your sensitive skin. Then you feel something thick and hot slap against your quivering cunt. It has you getting slicked and holding on tighter. 

"W- Wait, what if someone hears?" 

He chuckles as he slaps his cock against you again, "Don't be loud, and we won't have a problem…" He licks the shell of your ear as he slowly splits you on his length, "But I bet I can make you scream." 

[basically-neroland]

nero's depression headcanons‼️

i've got two requests sitting in my inbox but i'm too lazy to work on em rn (sorry 🥀), i wanna get something out for today (it's like 10:30pm) and this one's been sitting in my notes app so here you go lolz

g/n!reader, tw for dark thoughts (obviously). feel free to skip this one, take care of yourself 💙 this is a long one bc i think about it a LOT so buckle up!

most of it comes from bullied, neglected and rumoured about as a kid and as a teenager, but it also stems from survivor's guilt.

in deadly fortune, he talks about how kyrie and credo's parents died in a demon attack and says that it would've made more sense if it had been him and not saints like them. he was only 17 or 18 in deadly fortune.

nero really, REALLY hates talking about his feelings. he'll say he's fine when you ask him if he's okay. PLEASE call his bluff.

he struggles to be vulnerable, even with his partner because he's used to being the supportive one. it's honestly what he prefers.

he prefers to deal with his emotions on his own, mostly inwardly (despite his violent outbursts with demons and tiny crashouts that would suggest otherwise)

he might handle his anger outwardly, but not his sadness. never his sadness.

to be honest, all you can really do is give him extra physical affection and listen if he starts talking because sometimes he will. it's just rare and takes a while for him to start opening up

most of his tells are extremely quiet. not getting out of bed as early as he usually does, being extra quiet, spacing out more, stuff like that.

he still does stuff to make you happy, he's still cuddly (sometimes he even gets clingier), that doesn't change, but when he smiles back it won't quite reach his eyes. his laughs are more subdued and quiet

he doesn't like talking about his feelings, but the best way to support him is to just hold him and make sure he knows he can talk to you. he just needs you to make him feel safe, comforted and cared for

he also likes when you tell him that you appreciate him, love him, want him around and would be upset if he disappeared, even if he doesn't plan on actually disappearing. he just needs to hear that he's wanted.

when he does open up, he pauses a lot, just trying to gather his words

he gets teary, but tries not to cry. sometimes he fails, and he just leans into your hands when you wipe his tears

he'll talk about how he feels like it should've been him, or about something he experienced or had to do that haunted him, but he'll never ever tell you about how he sometimes just wants to disappear

he's happy you love him, but sometimes he wishes you didn't. he feels like he'll inevitably disappoint you or hurt you somehow, and it scares him.

to be honest, he is probably passively suicidal at times. he'd never want to leave you, but if he died fighting a demon, oh well y'know? that's his mindset some days. this translates into recklessness during fights

it's usually nico that berates him for it, she does worry a lot, but if you're also a devil hunter and you're along to see it, she'll stay quiet and let you do the fearful berating no matter how stressed she is about it

if nero gets reckless, nico always tells you just in case you didn't notice other quiet signs (if they were even there to notice)

if you notice signs, sometimes you tell nico so she'll go a little easier on him. as much as bantering and arguing is their love language, it isn't always good for him. if she makes any jokes about him "letting demons knock him around so much", he sometimes genuinely wonders if he's weak or just not good enough.

sometimes he gets genuinely angry during what's supposed to be playful banter and shuts down and it's just best to avoid that.

his coping mechanisms tend to consist of video games, sleeping more whenever he can, cuddling you and distracting himself with red queen and blue rose, even if he'd already done the routine maintenance. whatever got his mind off his sadness was good enough for him, he didn't really care what exactly it was.

you're honestly the only thing keeping him sane

he'd rather die than live without you. if you die, he'll be dead inside until he actually dies because of recklessness

[odearly]

ABSENCE MAKES THE HEART GROW ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

fucking friends and strangers, well, you love me

song by daffo

summary : you left the outerbanks as soon as you turned 18, leaving behind your family and friends to find yourself and escape your abusive father. You come back 4 years later, surprising everyone... including rafe cameron.

══════════════════════

══════════════════════

You pulled up to 'poguelandia' after driving your shitty chevy all the way from charleston, south carolina to the outerbanks. One ferry ride later and you're standing in the world you used to fit into, watching your past all run back to you.

All the hurt, all the suffering you faced on this island is running at you at the speed of your brother. You don't know how to react because you can't breathe, can't think, can't cry because there nothing to cry about.

You stood there frozen for a second before you feel your brother tackle you to the ground in a hug, knocking you out of your thoughts. "Fuck J! What the hell!" You pushed him off of you, standing up and brushing the dirt off your clothes.

He got up pretty quickly though, the rest of the pogues finding their way to the entrance of the Chateau now. Kie ran to you at light speed the moment she saw you-- you were always her favorite babysitter. She pulled you into a kinder but still squeezed hug. "Oh my god!! You're actually here! I thought JJ was just bluffing."

"Dude I wouldn't lie about that." He groaned, and walked back over to Pope, John B and Sarah. "Who's this?" Sarah asked and you saw her. Sarah Cameron.. why was she hanging out with pogues?

JJ spoke up, "Just my runaway sister, wont even give me a hug." You scoffed and walked over to him, giving him a proper hug. "Yeah well, maybe don't attack me next time."

It was nice to see your brother again, it really was. All of these memories, though, were making you anxious, angry even. You were right back where you started on the shit list of the outerbanks.

John B spoke up finally, his hand around Sarah's shoulder. "Wrap up the family reunion." You turned around to face John B and Sarah.

"John B pulled himself a kook. Sarah Cameron at that." You looked her over, wondering why the hell a rich girl like her would slum it with the pogues.

Sarah scrunches her face at that. "I don't care about that kook stuff." You roll your eyes and glare at John B, "I don't know if I can trust you, Sarah." You said very bluntly, dragging out her name like you were challenging her.

You hate the Cameron family. Rafe especially, he was in your graduating class. He was constantly teasing you for smelling bad because you didn't have hot water some weeks, making fun of you for being poor and living in a trailer, you never wanted to see him again.

"C'mon yn, me and her, were serious." John B said, looking slightly irritated. You look at Sarah again, inquisitively, looking for any chance she may be using John B. For what? You don't know but you couldn't trust a kook.

"You talk to Rafe?" You asked, trying to understand exactly whose side she's on. She scoffed, crossing her arms as John B pulled her a little closer. "As little as humanly possible."

You nodded, a simple agreement of peace. If you don't tell her anything then she can't break your trust. JJ smiled at that and looked at all of the pogues, "Alright then lets go fucking party!"

══════════════════════

sarah's story & messages w rafe

══════════════════════

a/n: hi.. so i hope you guys like this i've always wanted to do a smau but ive never actually achieved it. this story will be smau and irl.

[dead-dovediner]

Meet and Eat (Mikey Way x !fem reader)

triggers/warnings: Oral sex (female receiving), Fingering, Use of Y/N, that's pretty much it, it'll get more kinky in part 2 cause guess what, it'll have a part 2

word count: 4289

Not Too Much But, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat!

(Thank you to pookie @m1lkywaymikey for helping me with this gorgeous fic, I don't think I could've done this fic this fast without you) You guys go check out her writing acc @m1lkywaywritey

It was the late night of yet another melancholy Friday. Rotting away in your apartment block, lonely and bored. No life whatsoever; all of your friends were out doing only God knows what at this age; having fun while all you were doing was sitting on your couch and binging series that don't even make any sense.

You were fed up with the life you had. A boring job, a too normal life where nothing happened and friends who weren't anything special. It was depressing, and you knew it too. So after some internal debate on whether you should do something tonight or not; you went with the let's do something fun for once option out of the two.

You turned off the television and that stupid show that was playing. You put some music on instead on your phone, the trustworthy playlist of yours always had your back, given any mood.

With the music flowing from your phone's speaker you gathered the energy to finally stand up and actually plan a night out of this self made prison cell. But what does one do these days? Clubbing for sure; but when you're alone with no friends it's not fun nor safe, so that was a no. Maybe a bar that opened up not too long ago? Is it even open at this time? As you stood there you quickly checked it on your phone through a fast google search and found yourself staring at the words "Closed! Opens up at 10AM, call our cell to reserve a table!". Great- there was literally nothing else in your mind, was there even anything to do?

You sat back down only to scroll your phone a bit, when a post caught your eyes. It's a meet and greet of some rock band. 18+ only and not too far away from your place.

It was worth a click, a new string of hope rising in you. The post loaded to it's full size and your attention was captured by the lovely presentation of the meet and greet. The theme was something of a "Black Parade"? Let that be anything. The poster on the page looked trustworthy and when you looked at what time it'd be you saw it on the bottom right corner of the page.

It said "From 11PM - 5AM" which was in perfect timing for you. You quickly looked around the page to see if you didn't miss anything important on the page. You ordered a cab and texted the address in as you started getting ready.

You were finally going out in who knows how long. And to be fair it was nice, even if the planning was spontaneous and even though it's not a fully deciphered plan, it will work. Somehow.

Your closet protested as you stepped in. Clothes everywhere, thrown around the small room, both dirty and clean. Somehow you did eventually put a whole outfit together piece by piece. Nothing too showy but it was still not the usual of what you wore.

You didn't had the mood for makeup so you skipped it completely. Instead you went for a search around the small place to find your black purse. You did find it after a few minutes of searching while cursing under your breath. You were a hot mess to be fair.

Nothing was organized about you and that made you special, sure. Either way you got ready in the matter of 20 minutes and without giving yourself a second thought, you walked out on your front door, turned the key twice to double lock it and took the walk of shame on the stairs from the 2nd floor until you were met with the familiar white door that opened with a rusty creak.

The late night breeze hit your face and it was a refreshing little moment before the cab you ordered honked at you, making you jump a bit and walk straight for it.

~~^^~~

The driver dropped you off at the address you gave him, which was a four story building with soft warm lights still on. So this really was it, huh? A meet and greet.

You thanked the driver his kindness of dropping you off and then walked to the building's entrance. Walking in you saw posters lining the walls most of them directions like "Meet and greet on the next corridor" and so on.

After getting lost like 3 times you finally found the right door to a bigger room filled with people your age. They all dressed either vividly or full funeral black, there wasn't really a way to fit in, it was chaos. A sorted through chaos.

You didn't even know the band who were doing the meet and greet. So with a still somewhat lost head space you stood in line. Before you was a woman with teased hair and very revealing clothes. However she had a kindness to her which was weird because her looks intimidated you.

"Oh, hi- This is the meet and greet, right?" You dared tap her shoulder, just to make sure she knew you were asking her. She turned with a big smile on her face and that's when you noticed her full coverage black and white makeup. Holy shit, is this a cult? You thought to yourself.

"Yes, dear. This is the right place if you came here for the My Chem meet and greet! I also heard another band was in town so just make sure to double check the doors and corridors. If you're searching for the Fall Out Boy meet and great they are on the next floor; or so I heard." The woman's voice was lovely as she explained the situation.

"Oh uhh- I think I came here to meet My Chemical Romans? Was that the name? Sorry- I don't know them really well. To be fair I don't even know them, I only came here because I was bored and nothing else was open in town." With an awkward giggle you admitted the even more embarrassing fact. She didn't judge you though (or if she did, you didn't notice a change in her demeanor).

"Ha- yeah, don't worry sweetie, that's okay. Yeah, they are My Chemical Romance. This is a meet and greet to celebrate their 3rd album 'The Black Parade'. They are all standing right there." She pointed to one of the corners of the room where people were taking pictures with other people; most likely the band.

"Right there, in the leather jacket with white hair; that's Gerard. The singer. Then, standing next to him in a black shirt with middle length black hair; that's Frank. The rhythm guitarist. Next to those two, we have Ray, with his curly hair and colorful shirt and jeans. The actual guitarist. And at last right there in the far corner it's Mikey, the bassist. In his tight jeans and band shirt." As she described them, you could make out who each one was. But the bassist, Mikey. Yeah, he caught your gaze.

He was the most beautiful man you'd ever seen before. And as you were zoning out, staring at his features an unhinged thought crossed your mind. 'Damn, his hips look so clutch-able. His neck is so perfectly carved, mhm I'd love to leave hickeys on it.' Which was surprising because usually you weren't the person who sexualized someone without manners.

But this gorgeous man in the back of the room made your thoughts go a different way they usually would. Ones more erotic and darker, and the longer you stared the more you fell in love with the man mere meters away from you.

"I never got your name, I'm Kaitzy. You can call me Kait for short! It's nice to meet you!" Kaitzy snapped you out of your dirty daydreams as she held out a hand to you, introducing herself sweetly.

"Oh- yeah. I'm Y/N, but you can just call me N/N (nick name). The pleasure's mine!" You weren't sure if she said anything before, while you were zoned out so with a quick prayer and fast handshake you went back to admiring.

The line moved at a medium speed and it didn't take long for Kait to eventually be next. Her whole self was extracting excitement as the guy before left the room and she was up next. With a huge grin on her pretty face she went up to the four awaiting men, shook their hands and started talking.

You couldn't exactly hear what she was talking about but it was with such passion you knew it had to be about the band. The men listened to her and payed attention to whatever she was explaining to them.

A few minutes passed but you didn't even notice the time passing because you weren't truly there. Your mind took another slide down a thread of horniness. Kait at last left and went to the next room where if you remembered correctly the band will perform after the meet and greet. Next thing you know the white haired Jerard? waves to you because you're next.

~~^^~~

It's been a long night with the guys, a lot of fans came to the meet and greet even though this is a smaller town and it's late at night. But when she stepped into the already full room, an expression on her gorgeous face that said she has no idea where she is. My night got better, and suddenly an animalistic need raised in me.

Ray even had to softly shake me out of the trance I ended up in, all because of a woman who just got here. I was pathetic, really. The line was still pretty long and I had to act nicely, pretend that I listened to anything these people said. Smile and pose. Snap a pic and then the next one, and so on.

It was boring, yet she made it worth it; gosh I sound so cheesy but I really do think this is love at first sight. Is she a fan? Or did she actually get lost and she was supposed to go to the Fall Out Boy meet and greet to see another batch of handsome men…

I don't think I want to know the answer, but hopefully I will be able to ask her. If she'll stay in line and not like 30% of the people who come in on those doors. I don't even know why they come here, sometimes it seems like we're all just animals in a zoo.

You take a look, point at it, make a picture and then call it a day. It was the weird side of being famous. The people.

~~^^~~

I tried to listen to everyone's monologue, I really did try. But my head was somewhere completely else. I could feel her gaze on me, it burned a hole right through me, and it took me a lot of pain to not reciprocate the way she was staring. Felt like she was undressing me with her eyes, my soul and body naked before her piercing look, and I hoped she liked what she saw.

I was counting the people in line until we only had two women before the angel whom I could only hope was single. The two girls talked forever, about the same thing everyone does. It's great, we all appreciate it, but God, it's like someone took a test and everyone copied of off the same kid.

Then after excruciating minutes of utter fangirling it was my eye candy's turn to walk up to us, my famous last words to any God that'll listen are 'please just don't let her be head over heels for my brother'.

She seemed out of place, her appeal too much for a man like me to handle. Between the seas of unoriginal people who think they are so different she's like a diamond glowing bright.

Gerard waved her over and only then did she dare come closer to us. Holy fucking hell she was even more prettier up close. Frank greeted her and asked her how she was, just the usual when we're interacting with fans, but this was different.

I felt like I was the fan and she was the celebrity not the other way around.

She was either really shy or super intimidated, I couldn't really tell, other than the fact she'd fit perfectly against me. The guys said hi to her, including me. She hummed her response. And fuck- her voice; it was straight out of a porn catalogue, I could picture her moans perfectly.

But what was I thinking? I don't even know her name, or if she's single for the matter. What if she's a lesbian? I'd be double doomed. Are aroace people still a thing? I hope she's not one.

Then she turned to me, her eyes meeting mine and I was already melting away but at the same time getting harder by the minute. A curse slipped under my breath which I hoped she didn't hear, because of course I had to wear the tightest jeans tonight; trusting the thin fabric with my life I acted like nothing was going on.

Her lashes slowly moved up and down as she sized me up, and I mumbled a prayer my jeans won't betray me for once. When she was over with the… teasing? Was that teasing? Or am I overthinking again? She came to stand directly in front of me, which took me by surprise but I was also very much excited.

"Y/N; it's great to finally meet you. It's Mikey, right?" She gave me a boner worthy smile, one I definitely swooned over a bit way too much and the way her tongue rolled the syllables as she said my name only strengthened the picture in my mind as she moaned it.

"Yes, that's me. But I'm sure you already know, since y'know- this is like… a meet and greet." Oh my god. Mikey, shut up. What am I even trying to say? I can not think with my head right now, my growing erection's head would say otherwise.

Either way I held out a hand, hopefully one she'll take and won't notice the soft sweat over it. If she does than I'll be deep fried until my cheeks burn. I even hold my breath as she takes my hand, her skin meeting mine and it's like I haven't been touched in ages 'cause it shouldn't feel this good.

Now, if my hardening wasn't noticeable, it will be very much on show because all the control that I had, left me and my mind. If she didn't notice before I'm sure she did notice now, but if so she didn't say anything about it, and it made me think if the jeans are actually not that thin or if she's just respectful.

~~^^~~

It felt like a fever dream, standing right in front of him and looking at his handsome face, gosh he looked so kissable. You weren't sure if he was trying to act cool, something was off or anything, but all you knew was that you were soaked.

You almost completely ignored the other three guys, if they hadn't greeted you. It was bad, you knew it, yet that didn't stop you from looking him up and down again. Just then, as you took a quick glance all over him again, you noticed his growing bulge over the tight jeans.

So that is what's wrong… he's hard. It gave you an ego-boost, it's been a long time since anyone was this excited to see you. It was a one time thing. You rarely go out and this was the perfect chance to make a move. 'Just act like a fan, Y/N.'

"It's been a really busy night I assume?" You declared more than asked but it was still a question; you can never go wrong with some small talk. "I got here pretty late, because I only saw the posts about the meet and greet a few hours ago, but when I got here I saw how filled the place was. I was just looking for a way to pass time and I thought why not."

"Yeah, people have been lining up to meet us since the doors opened, it's a bit tiring if you ask me, a lot of people are just- weird, y'know? But I'm glad you came and took time to meet us, it means a lot to us." He seemed genuine even though this was a speech he had memorized.

"Ahh well this might seem even weirder but I don't really know the band," You huffed a laugh at the embarrassing confession. "But I stayed because I think… You're really handsome, and I'm sure a thousand others said so too, but I wanted to let you know, that I also think that you're pretty." The new found confidence was surprising you however you welcomed it with open arms.

His eyes lit up at your words, it was like giving a puppy it's treat after making it sit and wait for it. He looked at you with such an expression one can't describe other than need, lustful want and desire.

"Heh- thank you, I can only say it back and more. You're gorgeous, I've been eyeing you from the queue, you really got my attention with your beauty, y'know. And gosh I know this sounds cheesy, y'know like those romantic comedies you see in television." He responded as he looked you up and down as well, taking his time on the slightly revealing top you had on.

"Yeah, this fits into one too! The girl who doesn't know the celebrity, and the celebrity who falls for the normal girl. I've seen this one before in a few movies."

"I wouldn't mind making another one with us as the main characters. I just hope it'll have a happy ending" There it was. Indeed a flirt, a small comment and it definitely worked in his favor.

It took you a moment to gather yourself and respond to the playful flirt. With a smile you pulled out your phone of your purse, a pen and took his arm. Without further consent, you pushed the shirt's arm up and wrote your number on his arm.

"If you ever want to work on that movie." You winked at him and waved bye at the other three guys who just observed the situation whole. Then moved along to the next room because you probably held up the line for a bit.

You didn't dare look back, the small shot of adrenaline of being reckless was wearing off on you.

Time passed and the night grew darker, the people in the after party room were chatting and it seemed like everyone had someone to talk to. So you searched for a free place somewhere to sit down and just catch up on your thoughts. A table far to the left was free and you took a seat right there, whipped out your phone and checked it before closing it and putting it away a bit disappointed, but there was still hope, what were you thinking? That he'll text you immediately?

~~^^~~

Did she just give me her number and without anything else, leave? That's what I call a tease for sure. I need to calm myself down, I'm sure the guys'll understand. Hopefully.

"I need to go for a break guys, but I'll be back soon."

"No worries Romeo, go and get easy, I'm sure there's some steam you could get rid of." Ray chimed in, the others laughed along with me. Fuck them, they knew me too well.

I quickly made my way to the male bathrooms on the 3rd floor and locked myself up in a stall. Hopefully no one's in here, but I was way too busy fishing out my phone from my pocket to care to check.

I typed in the numbers she wrote on my arm, and I hesitated before I sent her a message.

"3rd floor, male bathroom. Meet me here, princess" The little dots appeared not much after the text sent. Oh, so she was checking her phone, a bit eager I see.

"Coming right up pretty boy"

I couldn't do anything else then wait there like the scum I really am. But even if this is only some easy fuck after a long day it's worth it. She's too irresistible not to give in for.

Not even two minutes passed when the door opened and heels clacked on the floor as someone-her-walked in. I opened the door to my stall and by the top she had on I pulled her inside, without wasting my time I kissed her, finally giving in to the fantasies that have been circling my head all night about her.

She tastes just like a dream. Sweet and soft, perfectly made for me. She kisses me back with such hunger, lust that makes me grunt out of the sensations.

"Not so fast now. You've been taunting me all night, let me take my time with you sweetie." I whispered into her ear between kisses, when she tried to unbuckle my belt I stopped her. I meant what I said, I'm going to make this time worth it, and not gonna waste it on a fast fuck.

"Says you? I came here without knowing someone like you'd be on sale." Her voice was breathy and she couldn't keep her hands off of me for God's sake, so instead of stopping her I took both of her hands into one of mine and pinned them up against the stall.

I gave her a long sloppy french kiss and continued to wander down her neck with open mouthed ones on her skin. She arched into my touch and her soft whines were something to die for. Even better than I imagined they would sound.

"Don't hold them back, let me hear you, Y/N." I looked up at her from between her breasts, her eyes locked on mine with such a plead in there I couldn't withhold anymore.

With my other hand I pushed her skirt up to reveal a black thong, which looked just too good. I let go of her hands but only so I could tear the small fabric that hold me back from worshiping.

"That's not fair- I liked that one… And what am I gonna go home in now? Or would you let me go home without underwear on?" Her small grunt made me chuckle but she doesn't know yet that she's not going home tonight.

"Don't worry too much, if you liked it that much I'll buy you ten more. Now put one of your legs up here. Let me have a meal before I claim this pussy." I help her put a leg on the toilet so I have more access to her entrance.

It's the best view and I don't think I ever want to leave. As I kneel before her she runs a hand through my hair and tugs a bit on my roots to fasten up. I didn't need any more confirmation than that as I went in to lick up to stripes of her juices. Fuck, she tastes like heaven on Earth.

"Ah~ fuck, you know- you look really good from here." She managed to put coherent words together while I made sure to tease her in all the right places, making her sing so beautifully around my face. I could do this all night long but I have to go back to the guys soon, so for now my only goal is to make her cum and then we'll see where the night will end.

I line up two fingers against her sweet cunt and I slowly push them inside her as my tongue swipes against her clit in slow circles. She clenches around my fingers and I can only imagine how great it would feel like to be buried deep inside her.

Her moans turned louder as my fingers went faster and faster, curling softly to make sure I hit all the sweet spots. And as she's tugging on my hair I feel her insides spasm as she comes undone over my tongue and fingers, shaking softly I hold her upright with my other arm.

I guide her through the orgasm, making it last longer but not too overstimulating. Once she stopped shaking and I'm done with my meal only do I pull out my fingers just to lick them clean of her cum.

"Fuuuuck, you taste like an absolute dessert. If I could have one last meal, I'd ask for you to be it. I am so going to need more, but we don't have more time right now, I need to go back to the fans, but I swear I'll text you once we're done. Just go to the other meet and greet and wait me there, my friend Pete will accompany you while I'm still gonna be with the others. Okay, darling?"

"Aren't their meet and greet still going too?"

"No, while I tongue fucked you, they said good-byes to their fans and it's just the band upstairs; we still have an hour or so left. But please, don't go, I don't want you to leave, Y/N." I don't care that I sound pathetic, she was really something else.

The small nod she gave me was enough for me to stand up, but not before I pocketed the remaining of the thong. It's going to be a small souvenir for me, a reminder of what's waiting for me once I'm done.